Author's Note: Still here, still alive! But with everything going on in the world (I'm in the US, which means things are... terrible), I've not been in the right space to think about fic-writing much. Thank you to all who continue to join me here regardless of how long each chapter takes!

XXII. "I Know"

"Shit."

This couldn't have happened more than a few minutes ago, Loki thought quickly, nervously, scanning the scene and forcing down the feeling of panic that swelled in his throat. For now, all was quiet. He imagined that he had about three more minutes before one of the guards down the hall began to wonder why Eirik had gone in but had not come out.

Three minutes to decide what he was going to do about this—to ensure that he would not end up behind a forcefield again. Hel. It wasn't much time.

His first thought, though it did not exactly speak well of him, was to merely hide everything. It would not be the first time he had illusioned a body, and though someone was very clearly trying to set him up for a murder, there was no one to see it—there was no proof. Spin an illusion, wait for the cover and darkness, and deal with it then. Simple.

Or… no, all he really had to do, actually, was remove the throwing knife, switch it for another unidentifiable one, and feign ignorance. Then it was Thor's problem, not his.

He had not been meant to discover it first, that much was clear. And, really, it was not the most thought-out plan someone could have come up with. He would have scoffed had it not put him in such an uncomfortable position. If things really went ill—if Thor did not believe him (they were treading fragile ground as it was), or if the new king gave into pressure from his advisors when they found out—this was absolutely enough to lock Loki away again.

So much for a couple of days on Vanaheim.

Loki spent another few seconds staring at the body, his shoulders tight, his hand clenching and unclenching with every passing moment. Could he trust Thor to side with him? That was what it came down to. Either he fended for himself, did whatever it took to protect himself—or he took a chance on believing that his brother might actually listen.

Thor thought he knew Loki better now; that was what he had said.

Well, Loki thought, they were about to find out.

He checked the door, ensuring he could not yet hear any footsteps, and then twisted back, sidestepping the fallen tray and sinking swiftly onto one of the nearby chairs; projecting was always easier when he was sitting. He forced in several long, steadying breaths in an attempt to quiet his mind, curled his palms over his knees, and closed his eyes. For just a moment, a faltering heartbeat. he realised how strange it felt not to have the sceptre gripped in his hand.

Then he straightened his back, lifted his head, and as his eyes flashed open again, he flung his thought outward beyond himself. He could search the palace in seconds this way, following the trail of a familiar aura. He found Thor almost instantly, and a shivering projection appeared in his brother's sitting room.

"Thor—"

As it turned out, his aim had been slightly off; Thor was not in the room, but out on the adjoining balcony. He must have heard Loki's voice all the same, for he strode back inside a second later. There was a look both startled and wary on his face when he caught sight of the projection.

"Loki? What are you—?"

"There's a bit of a—situation here," Loki said delicately, managing to smooth most of the unease out of his voice. "Do you have a moment? Preferably, ah, very soon."

Thor's frown deepened. "Where are you?"

"My chambers. Can you come?"

Not surprisingly, Thor still hesitated. "If this is some sort of game…" he started in a low, warning voice.

"It's not, Thor, it's not, I promise you." Loki drew in a frustrated hiss of breath. "Please trust me."

Another pause. Then—

"I'll be right there."

A breath of relief fell from Loki's lips. So far so good. He nodded, pulled back the projection, and found himself staring again at the unpleasant scene on the floor. Thor might believe him. Thor should believe him. He didn't know about the rest of Asgard.

Thor showed up very quickly; Loki heard him knock, but it was barely a courtesy, for he came in anyway without giving Loki a chance to even stand. Then he stopped very short, as Loki had expected he would, a few feet inside the room.

Loki gave him a nervous glance as he got to his feet. "Before you say anything—"

"Explain. Now." Thor's voice was tight, not exactly threatening, but far from friendly. He was already kneeling down beside the body.

"I can't," Loki broke in, exasperated. "I wish I could, but I swear to you, I didn't do this—"

"I know you didn't. What happened?"

"Whatever it looks like, Thor, you have to believe m—" Loki broke off, startled, as he registered what his brother had said. "What?"

"I know you are not this careless—Norns, he's still alive." Thor looked up again, stunned and rather accusing. "Loki, why did you leave him here? He needs a healer, now—"

"I—" Loki, still trying to process the fact that he did not have to build up a defence, blinked and struggled to refocus. Quite frankly, he had been far too busy trying to come up with a plan to worry about whether the boy might not be dead. "I… didn't think to check, to be honest."

Thor muttered something dark under his breath that Loki could not hear. "I'm taking him to the healers. Stay put until I return." And he started lifting Eirik from the floor.

"Don't move him, idiot—you'll actually kill him." Loki tensed for a second, then darted forward, resisting the urge to roll his eyes and wondering in the back of his mind how this had gotten so strange so quickly. He flapped Thor away from the boy as he crouched down. "No—no, I've seen your healing skills, brother. You're more likely to finish him off. Go to my desk—I used to keep a couple of stones in the top drawer, that's if no one has gone through my things since I've been… away."

The wound was deep, and there was certainly some blood loss, but it was not, as Loki had first presumed, fatal. After removing the dagger, he spread his hands flat over Eirik's back. A faint glow of energy seeped from his palms and fingertips, working its way into the wound and knitting it back together. Loki could feel Thor watching him, but neither of them said anything until Loki asked curtly for the healing stone to close the skin again.

Thor passed it over. "I never did get the hang of that when Mother tried to teach us," he said quietly.

"That's because your power has all the subtlety of a severed limb." Loki sat back on his heels and pushed his hair out of his face. His hands were spotted with blood. "He should be alright—being unconscious is probably the best thing for him now."

Thor nodded. "Can we move him?"

"I suppose we'd better," Loki muttered. "Not my bed. Put him on the couch. You can take him with you when you leave." He shot a glance toward the door, frowning. "Although why the guards haven't tried to break in here yet—"

"I sent them off before I came in," Thor interrupted. He deposited Erik on the low couch. "I did not think they would be… useful."

It was innocuous enough, but the way he said it made Loki look over. That had been a gamble, he thought, dismissing the guards before knowing what had happened. It meant that Thor had, for whatever reason, decided to keep Loki's trust.

"Why were you so quick to believe me?" he asked, his voice quiet but very pointed.

"Because I know you are not that stupid, Loki." Thor shrugged. "You would not jeopardise your freedom so carelessly, not after you nearly begged me to take you off Asgard for a day."

Loki bristled. "I refute beg—"

"Requested, then," Thor corrected with a distinct roll of his eyes. "Either way, I am quite sure that if you wanted to kill someone, you would also find a way to hide it."

"Your faith in me is touching," Loki said drily. "But you're not wrong." Confident now that Thor was not going to have him dragged back to the dungeons, he sank into a chair and tried to relax the tension in the back of his neck. "I'm rather insulted, actually," he went on, twisting his head from side to side. "This wasn't an accident; someone's gone out of their way to make me look like a second-rate criminal."

"That is what you are worried about?" Thor asked, a note of disbelief in his voice. "Your reputation? What about that boy who nearly died here today?"

"I refuse to make a show of false concern for your benefit," Loki told him evenly. His poise had returned; he settled more comfortably in his seat and gave Thor a very calm look.

Thor shot him a look. "Is nothing sacred to you?"

"Very little." Loki shrugged. "My concern for that boy runs only as far as his being a complication in my life that I do not need, and the fact that he occasionally brings me dinner." He shot a glance towards the couch. "Which he won't be doing for a while."

Thor's expression was still tight. "Is that the only reason he was here?"

"Of course," Loki said, frowning. "Why else would he be here?"

"Why would someone try to set you up so poorly?"

"That is the answer I wish I had," Loki muttered. He rose sharply again, pushing a hand through his hair and pacing to the other side of the room. He had enemies, of course, but none of them were on Asgard as far as he knew, and most of them were far too clever to try something this ill-reasoned.

Then again… he had been doing some meddling a while back. There was a slim chance he had not been as careful as he'd thought. And the more he thought about it, the more he was suddenly convinced that Eirik's death—well, attempted death—could not be a coincidence.

"I… may have an idea about that, actually," he said slowly, glancing at his brother out of the corner of his eye.

Thor's glance sharpened. "Go on."

"Promise you're not about to arrest me?"

"Loki, I said I believe you."

"Just checking." Loki gave a thin smile and turned away. The wine on the floor was not to be salvaged, but luckily he had his own, and he could really use a drink after this nasty little surprise. He went to get one. "The question becomes—who was the real target here? It's a setup, certainly, but it may not be in the direction we think."

"You're dragging this out for effect, aren't you?" Thor was scowling. "Pour some for me."

Loki reached for a second goblet. "I'm not," he said mildly, taking his time in pouring the wine, "I'm just trying to think my way through it. I wonder if the boy might not be the real victim, and my presence merely a convenient cover for it."

He returned to Thor, passing him a goblet with a mock inclination of his head, then sat down again. Thor did not look terribly convinced, either by the wine or Loki's suggestion.

"I find it hard to believe that a serving boy would have more enemies than you, brother."

"So do I," Loki agreed blandly, "but we live in strange times. And…" He paused, seeking for the most delicate way to phrase this. "... he may have been privy to certain information that he was not meant to have."

"What do you mean? What information?" Thor leaned forward, watching him closely. "And how did he get it?"

Loki made a slightly apologetic face. "Well… I may have given it to him."

Thor stared at him. "Deliberately?"

"In a manner of speaking." Loki exhaled softly and tilted his head back, staring at the ceiling for a few seconds. He was still trying to piece it together, but he supposed, with how things had escalated now, that he ought to tell Thor what he knew. "Do you remember when you found me coming back from—somewhere—the night of the Véurr?"

"Yes."

"Well, I stumbled across something rather interesting that I did not intend to." His voice thin, Loki told Thor quietly about the whispered conversation he had overheard, about the guard captain, about what Eirik had unwittingly told him. "I suspect," he finished drily, "that the boy either tried to inform someone about Hreidarr and was caught before he could, or he merely misspoke to the wrong people. Either way, he knew more than he should have."

"Because you told him," Thor pointed out. "But Hreidarr? Really? I know of him—he served my father well. Why would he do this?"

"Loyalty can always be bought for the right price," Loki said, shrugging.

Thor's face darkened. "Not always. Mine cannot be."

Loki gave a low laugh. Thor would think that. "Of course it can, brother. It's just that no one has met your price, which I imagine would be very high indeed—the fate of the Realms, perhaps, or the life of someone you hold dear. Your seemingly impenetrable armour is full of cracks formed by your greatest affections. It merely takes a skilled blade in the right place to make use of that."

"Your blade?" Thor asked, very quietly.

Loki almost smiled again, but shook his head. "Not this time. I've been enjoying the novelty of being trusted—however long that lasts."

"Then stop encouraging me to think the worst of you," Thor broke in, sounding frustrated again. "Why in all the Nine do you do that?"

It was not a question Loki had expected. They were getting off track, but he was already thinking about it now, and he raised his wine to his lips to give himself a few moments' space.

"I suppose," he said slowly, "because it's so much simpler. It's what you expect, it's what I expect—" He gestured carelessly with one hand. "In the end, it is what we both believe."

"Part of me believes it." Thor's voice had gone soft again, considering. "But there is another part that would gladly think differently. When we talk like this—"

"An illusion," Loki interrupted softly.

He met Thor's eyes, his own slightly more set. There were still walls he could not break down, even if he wanted to. They had been standing too long.

Thor sighed. "Does it have to be?"

"That remains to be seen. Are you going to let me finish? We have more pressing concerns—well, you do."

"Hreidarr." Thor gave a low, humourless laugh as he got to his feet. "I will deal with him. I pray this is not the betrayal it seems, but—it's not looking good."

"Thor, wait." Loki put out a hand, his voice sharp. Thor needed to know what he was dealing with. "There's more."

Thor frowned. "What more?"

"Those voices I heard that night—one of them was Asgardian, but one was not."

"And?" Thor asked impatiently. "What was it? Vanir?"

"No." Loki shook his head slowly. "Thor—it was Drey."

"Dr—what?" Thor was now giving him an entirely disbelieving look. "What game are you playing here, Loki? They are old lore, little more than a myth—"

"Every story is a myth until you see it with your own eyes," Loki said quietly, holding his brother's gaze in the hope that he was sounding genuine. "They are real, Thor, and they have lived on Asgard longer than you or Odin."

"They are on Asgard?"

"Well—yes and no." Loki shrugged. "Not Asgard proper. And they are well hidden."

Thor sat down again, staring at him hard as though trying to find the catch in all of this. "You asked me about them—in the library a while back. Is this why? I thought you were just chasing old stories—"

"I am chasing something a little more concrete than that." Loki leaned back in his chair. "The Drey have always existed, brother. Just because you and Odin never realised it doesn't change the truth."

"Oh, and you did?" Thor asked sceptically.

"I found them—some time ago now. It was—an accident, actually."

"You found a lost people by accident?"

"Not lost—only hidden," Loki corrected him, trying and failing to keep a note of smugness from his voice. "I was fooling with some pathways in the mountains—wormholes, if you will—and one of them reacted badly. It took me to the underside of the Realm."

Thor stared at him. "This is absurd."

"I know. But you still believe me."

"Against my better judgement, brother—" Thor sighed. "Yes, I do. Tell me more."

Loki shook his head. "Another time. Right now, I have an idea, but we need to move fast or it will look suspicious." He got to his feet, and Thor followed suit, looking wary but resigned.

"What did you have in mind?"

Loki grinned. His eyes were alight in a way they hadn't been for some time.

"We're going to make a scene."