A/N: Okay, so the story will pick up soon, I promise. I just need to lay the plot out before diving straight into the action.

He did not sleep again that night. No, instead he watched the dark outlines of fish swimming in the luminous water and debated whether or not to join them. However, the sun then began to rise and the water dimmed down until it looked just like any other lake. Another time then.

He stood and stretched his back, cracking his neck, and looked around the meadow. It was a fairly decent size, out of the way of any settlements, and had a decent supply of edible plants around. Nodding to himself, Loki closed his eyes and focused.

If he was going to stay there, he needed a place to live.

(The scepter, though he hated it, supplied him with almost unlimited power in his magic reserves. That was one side affect Thanos had not anticipated, and Loki was punished severely for it. In the end, it made no difference. Loki was trapped in the dark realm of the Chitauri.)

Clenching his jaw, he pushed the memory goths back of his mind. He needed to concentrate now. He took in a deep breath and raised his hands in front of him, allowing the magic to run through his palms and outwards into the space before him.

(When was the last time you used so much magic without being ridiculed for it?)

This single thought broke his concentration, and he had to release the spell. Opening his eyes, he found that the result was not at all bad.

Now, in front of him stood a house. It was wooden and simple, with steps leading up to the lantern-lit porch. It sat a few yards away from the lake, with a balcony above the porch that would allow him to look out onto the water. Satisfied, Loki made his way inside his new home- (Not home. That is a luxury I will never have.)- and surveyed the interior.

It was small- much smaller than anything he was used to as a prince- but it had a certain quality to it that made up for the lack of space. it was not as if he needed much room, anyway.

There was a small living area with a fireplace and armchairs, as well as a low table and a large book case. At the other end was a small kitchen area, fitted with the contraptions of running water that he had seen on Midgard. Walking upstairs, there was a bathroom, a bedroom and a study.

The bathroom was mostly black marble, with a large bath, a sink with a mirror and a toilet. The study was packed with empty bookcases waiting to be filled, with a large desk and comfortable chair in front of a window that overlooked the lake. The bedroom had a large, four poster bed with deep green sheets and pillows, a wardrobe, another fireplace and a comfortable armchair.

Yes, this would do quite nicely.

It had been three months of living in Alfheim when he heard it; a change in the Elves' song. Loki knew that they rarely changed their song unless something of importance was happening; it was a way of spreading the word to all in the Realm of what was going on. And this, he realised with a sickening feeling in his gut, was something of the upmost importance.

Speaking the language of the Alltongue, Loki could understand every language there was. Despite that, he had learnt as many languages as he could in his youth, including that of the Elves. So he could understand every word they sang.

They sung of Thor Odinson, Lady Sif and the Warriors Three, and how they had been journeying across the Realms recently to ensure that all was well after the Convergence. And they had just arrived in Alfheim.

Loki was in his study, sitting in the comfortable desk chair while reading one of many books that he had gathered in his time there, and he stopped reading at the change in tempo of the song. It had become a relaxing soundtrack to his time in Alfheim, and he would not miss such a significant change even if he had placed a silencing charm on his house.

His breathing quickened and his mind raced- (Thor's here- Thor can't be here- I sent him to Midgard- He's with Jane- He isn't- No- It cannot be real- It's not real- He isn't here- Thor- Thor- Thor-)- to the point where his vision spun. He forced himself to be calm, to shut the book gently and to rise from his seat at an even speed, to walk slowly into his bathroom. Then he allowed himself to let go.

First, he felt anger- (Rage. Pure, murderous rage. Kill- Kill- Kill the Jotuns and the mortals and the Aesir and everyone- Kill everyone- They must pay- Kill them all-)- and he let out a wordless shout, sending his fist flying at the mirror above the sink. It shattered with a satisfying sound, the shards tinkling down into the sink. His knuckles bore minor scratches, but they would heal soon enough. He stared into his on eyes through the cracked remains of the mirror, his emerald eyes burning.

(Why is he here? Why can he not leave me be and let me forget?)

Then, he felt panic rising up in his chest, gripping his heart like a vice. (He knows- Odin must have woken and told him. Thor knows and he is searching for me and he will drag me back to Asgard and into that cell where Mother- Mother and all her memories. I cannot go back. I will not go back.) His chest heaved with uneven breaths as he stumbled backwards, and he came to lean against the cold marble surface of the bathroom wall. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying his best to block out the world and everything in it.

Finally, after what Loki thought to be at least an hour, he opened his eyes and felt acceptance and rationality. Thor was too oblivious to see past Loki's illusions- (That day- That accursed day in the cell when he had all but destroyed its contents and Thor had been able to see through his illusion. But Loki had been hurting and distracted- that was why he could tell, right?)- and his guise of the Allfather had been one of his greatest ever. There was no way Thor was there for him.

And under all those conflicting emotions, Loki tried to suppress the burning desire to see his brother. (Not my brother.) Why he would even want to see Thor after fearing- (Not fear. Loki knew fear more than any other living being. He was not afraid...)- that he would be taken back to Asgard? He honestly did not know, he only knew that he wanted to see him.

Looking at the shards of glass on the floor, Loki frowned. He had thought the rage was gone. He had been doing so well at finding peace- (Lies. He was not happy, nor was he at peace. He yearned for more- He yearned for- for more.)- and then simply the mentioning of Thor in the Elves' song had evoked this in him.

With a heavy sigh, Loki turned and made his way out of the door, waving his hand at the damage. Behind him, the mirror fixed itself together and once more hung whole on the wall.

He went to his bedroom and looked at himself in the full length mirror, pursing his lips. He could not very well get anywhere near Thor while looking like, well, like Loki. With a shimmer of green, his appearance changed almost completely. He stood a couple of inches shorter (Elves were not the tallest of beings) and his main features had altered. His sharp features had softened, his green eyes slanted slightly, his ears pointed and his hair longer and straightened, falling just below his shoulder blades and braided in a distinctly elvish fashion. His clothing had changed slightly; while he had been wearing leather trousers, an emerald green tunic and riding boots, he now wore black breeches, a (still green) tunic with golden stitching, and similar boots.

With a sigh, he cursed himself for doing this. Loki opened a portal and walked through, close to where the Elves were celebrating Thor's visit.

(I'm not your brother- I never was.)

(Do I even believe my own lies anymore?)