Author's note: Well then, perhaps some of your questions about Frey will be answered in this chapter… maybe. ;)
Perhaps Frey thinks that is going to reassure him, but it only serves to make him feel even worse. As poorly as he would be able to defend himself against an assault of a physical nature from alien super-beings, his chances against magic are for all intents and purposes non-existent.
"So you mean next time I turn a corner some Asgardian Merlin or Gandalf might be lurking in the shadows waiting to turn me into a frog or something?" Great – Tony Stark, genius billionaire playboy philanthropist frog.
Again, Frey laughs as if Tony is some sort of comedian sent here for his amusement. "Such crudeness would not be necessary, even if magic were truly capable of performing human transformations like that," he replies with a wave of his hand, no doubt meant to dismiss Tony's silly Midgardian notions.
However, he quickly gets serious again and takes another step closer to Tony, who resists the urge to move an equal distance in the opposite direction.
"When you stand before Odin and his court, there will be a truth geas in effect, courtesy of the Allfather's magic. You will be unable to speak anything but the truth, and all you say will be taken as truth, or at least the truth as far as you know it." Frey says and then makes a little pause, studying Tony as if to see what effect his words are having on him.
And Tony feels a coil of unease at that. There are a million different questions he wouldn't be comfortable being asked when magically compelled to tell the truth. Sure, most of them might not have anything to do with Loki, but he could certainly think of a few of those as well.
"I'm listening," Tony says in response, not sure where this is going. Though, now that Frey mentions it, he does remember Thor saying something about a truth-magic-something the evening before they headed off to Asgard, but he'd been too distracted by his own wildly swirling thoughts to reflect as much on it as he probably should have.
"The geas has been crafted by the Allfather's magic. That is, Aesir magic," Frey intones, as if that is supposed to mean anything particular to Tony. "As such, it is very powerful and nigh unbreakable by Aesir sorcerers, which makes everyone trust its validity. However, there are also… other kinds of magic. Most importantly, that of the Vanir."
"The Vanir?" Tony repeats dully.
Frey nods. "Yes. The Vanir, from Vanaheim, another one of the Nine Realms. The Vanir have their own form of magic, which is in some ways different from that of the Aesir. While a skilful sorcerer would normally be able to sense and even neutralize spells performed by a lesser magic user, that is not always so when the sorcerers in question practice different forms of magic. So in other words, not even Odin himself would notice certain Vanir spells even if they're performed right in front of him, provided that they are weak and unobtrusive enough." Frey taps his fingertips together as he looks at Tony from under his brows. "And as it is, there happens to be a couple of members on the Council with Vanir ancestors, most notably Njord."
"So there's not only Aesir living here in Asgard, huh?" he asks, hating how clueless he is about everything here. Damn, how many of these alien species are there really? Well, he guesses nine, if the number of realms is anything to go by. Okay, eight, not counting blissfully normal and everyday humans.
"Intermarriage between the two races has been known to happen. I have Vanir ancestors myself," Frey says with a shrug.
"You know magic too?" Tony can't help but asking.
He can see Frey's eyebrows draw together at that, eyes narrowing as if Tony has just insulted him. "Of course not," he says curtly. "I'm a warrior, not a sorcerer."
Okay, then.
"In any case," Frey quickly continues, apparently preferring not to dwell on the subject, "for various reasons, Njord has kept it a well-hidden secret that he knows some smatterings of Vanir magic. Not even the Allfather knows, and Njord prefers for things to be kept that way."
"How come you know, then, when not even Odin Almighty does?"
"Njord is my father," Frey smiles. "These things are hard to keep from your nearest family."
Oh. Tony isn't sure if that's supposed to make him feel better or worse.
"Now, you should know that while there are spells forcing people to speak nothing but the truth, there are also spells forcing them to speak things that are not true. It's a specific sort of Vanir magic, unaffected by Aesir truth geases, and Njord knows how to perform such spells."
And Tony can sort of see where this is going. "Isn't that obstruction of justice? How can a guy like that be sitting on a freaking Council?" he blurts out. He's already pissed off enough with Asgard's justice system as it is, and this information does squat to redeem it.
"Oh, it's not nearly as bad as it sounds. Njord magic powers are very weak, which is why he's been able to keep them hidden from all but his nearest family. It's not generally something that's considered appropriate for warriors here, knowing how to perform magic," Frey explains. "However, different races have varying resistance to magic influence, and Njord's spells would be too feeble to actually have an effect on any of the immortal races. Mortals however, are more susceptible, and Njord has learnt that even his weak powers are enough to affect them since from back when he visited Midgard some thousand years ago."
Susceptible. As if he was talking about the catching the freaking flu.
"So, in short, he is not nearly a skilful or powerful enough spell caster to influence any of those coming to speak in court, except if they happen to be… mortals," Frey says, giving Tony a pointed look. "And you should be aware that my father hates Loki with a passion. He would not hesitate to use his magic against you when you stand before the court, and you wouldn't even notice it, believing you had said everything by your own volition."
And Tony feels that familiar free fall of his stomach again as it drops to the ground. "You mean he would make me say things to Loki's detriment, so there won't be any chance of a pardon?" The air around him suddenly feels a little heavier to breath.
"Something like that, yes," Frey nods.
"Then why don't you take all this to Odin instead of me and have him throw your dad off the Council?" Tony asks the obvious.
"I could do that. However, Njord is my father, and that would be disloyal," Frey says with a shrug.
"Why are you even telling me this, then?" Tony asks, crossing his arms. Even he can hear the suspicious note in his own voice, but he can't stop it.
Frey studies his fingernails. "My whole family hates Loki, and my father particularly so. It's an old grudge that goes back to an incident where Loki almost caused my sister Freyja to be married off to a frost giant." He looks up from his fingernails to lock eyes with Tony. "And I suppose I should be angry about that as well. But as it is, Loki saved my life in battle once, and we Asgardians do not forget easily, either about slights or favours owed."
Hmm, that old story. He remembers thinking it was funny when Loki had told it to him, but now it seems everything but.
"Then I assume there's nothing stopping me from running straight to Thor with this information so he can make sure Odin gives your dad an early retirement, if you won't tell Odin yourself?" Tony asks, quickly changing the subject.
Yeah, like hell he's going to get let this Njord guy destroy Loki's chances of becoming a free god again, no matter how infinitesimal those chances might be to start with.
Frey shrugs. "Nothing is stopping you. But you should keep in mind that my father is a very powerful lord with a lot of political clout, and if he gets thrown off the Council, it would be a terrible humiliation and disgrace for him. And chances are he will blame it all on Loki and machinate in some other way to affect the outcome of this appeal, perhaps by trying to influence or sway the other members of the Council. Such attempts would very hard to pinpoint and protect against, if not impossible."
Ugh. Tony knows there was a good reason he always hated politics. "And this magical mind-control thing isn't?" he remarks, annoyed by how complicated this is suddenly turning. The whole magic thing just isn't fair.
"Not if you know how to," Frey says cryptically with that intense gaze of his boring into Tony as he shifts and moves back a little, the dull light causing strange shadows to dance over his face, turning it into an eerie-looking mask. Tony isn't sure he likes that particular visual effect.
Then, Frey quickly glances over his shoulder, as if he's expecting someone to be spying on him, before his hand reaches beneath his shirt, rummaging around in some hidden fold or pocket. Tony resists the urge to take a step back, hoping the guy isn't about to stab him or something.
When Frey withdraws his hand a moment later, there is a small item clasped in it, metal gleaming, but thankfully not in the shape of a sharp blade. He slowly unfolds the fingers wrapped around the thing, showcasing it in his open palm.
It's a string of leather with some sort of medallion attached to it, round and flat, runes running in a spiral all the way to the centre. In the dull light, it seems to glow with a radiance of its own. Other than that, it looks like one of those brooches Tony's grandmother used to wear.
He looks up at Frey with a questioning expression.
"Vanir magic, my friend," comes Frey's smooth voice. "This will deflect any Vanir geas someone tries to place upon the wearer." A short pause. "You keep this on you during the audience, and whatever attempts Njord will make to influence your words will amount to nothing." He lets the medallion travel elegantly across his knuckles as he speaks, like a street performer playing with a coin before his admiring audience. Show-off.
And Tony knows there's a catch somewhere, a stipulation that Mr Fancy-Hair is just waiting to tell him of, some kind of payment or the other he's looking for. And he doesn't even have any guarantee that the thing will work as purported – maybe Frey has simply borrowed his grandmother's old brooch to fool the gullible Midgardian, maybe the magical mind control is just some crap he's made up, maybe it's all a convoluted ploy for the guy to get his hands on Loki one way or the other. More subtle and intricate then Geir to be sure, but the intent could still be the same.
But Frey says nothing more, merely waits with raised eyebrows for Tony to comment.
So he does.
"Alright, you might as well tell me. Where's the catch to all this? What do you want in return?" he asks, deciding that it's better make that clear before anything else.
Frey cocks his head to the side, his fingers ceasing their medallion-twirling. Then he smiles broadly, flashing teeth whiter than a toothpaste commercial. "Are all of you Midgardians this suspicious? There is no catch. The amulet is an offer free of charge," Frey replies as he holds his hand out to Tony, urging him to take the item with a spread of his fingers.
At Tony's obvious hesitation, he chuckles. "It's not going to bite you, Man of Iron, so you might as well accept."
Slowly and reluctantly, Tony's hand goes for the blank metal, taking it from Frey's open palm. At least there's no shock or stab of pain shooting up his arm at the touch. Truth be told, there's nothing at all, as if the thing is indeed just someone's grandmother's old brooch and not an item supposedly imbued with mighty magical powers.
"Why would you give this to me without expecting anything in return?" Tony asks, not sure he's trusting this guy one bit. After what he's seen of Asgard so far, any offer to help Loki seems more likely to be just a disguised attempt to do exactly the opposite.
"I already told you," Frey says, crossing his arms. "Loki saved my life once, so I am merely repaying that debt." His lips tug minutely upward. "Though, if you don't mind, I'd like it back after you're done with it. It's a rather precious item and I doubt you'd have any use of it in Midgard anyway."
The metal feels oddly cool against his fingers, as if it's not affected by petty outward influences like body temperature. And he knows he has no idea whether this medallion will help him as stipulated, have no effect whatsoever, or even work to his detriment, perhaps doing exactly what Frey is claiming the thing will guard against. Maybe this is even a ploy of Odin's, sending one of his lackeys with an alluring offer that will only come back to bite Tony and Loki in the ass.
Well, the best thing he can do right now is to accept the medallion and then have a talk with Loki about it and let him gauge whether Frey is to be trusted or not. Even if Loki doesn't know the guy well, he at least knows of him.
"Alright, thanks for the warning and your help. I appreciate it." Tony says, trying to sound sincere. No point in being impolite or refusing to play along, after all; it's his best bet at the moment.
"You're welcome. And good luck with your audience," Frey says with another smile and a bow before smiling and walking off, his long cape swirling behind him.
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