Thor found Heimdall at the Observatory's edge, exactly where he always was — standing at the post as though the universe owed him its attention, which it generally did.
"You weren't at the war council," Thor said.
Heimdall lifted his helmet from the railing and turned it over in his hands without putting it on. "Your father's orders were clear. The Rainbow Bridge is sealed. Nothing enters or leaves Asgard." His golden eyes stayed fixed on the horizon. "If I cannot see the enemy with these eyes, then my post has already failed. Being present at a council table changes nothing about that."
Thor stepped up beside him. "Malekith is coming back. You know that."
"I do."
"I need your help."
Heimdall looked at him then — a long, steady look that carried the weight of someone who had watched everything and been asked to pretend he hadn't. "I cannot break the king's orders, Thor. Not even for you."
"That's not what I'm asking." Thor chose his next words carefully. "Asgard needs a king people believe in. My father's position has to remain intact. I understand that." A beat. "But my father also agreed that Smith would be part of this. I'm not going alone."
He laid out the logic plainly: chasing Malekith off Asgard's ground entirely, drawing the fight somewhere the Dark Elves had chosen rather than somewhere his people lived. Protecting more lives by eliminating the threat rather than enduring another breach.
Heimdall was quiet for a long moment. Then: "I wish you success."
"I'll make sure they pay for every person they hurt here," Thor said.
Heimdall nodded, and his eyes shifted almost imperceptibly — the small movement of a man who had already decided, and was simply waiting for the right question.
"What do you need from me?"
Smith was back in his quarters when Thor knocked, and he was already reading the room before the door had fully opened.
"I want to bring Loki," Thor said.
Smith set down what he was doing.
"He knows the Dark World. He knows how they think." Thor crossed his arms. "And that cursed warrior — Algrim — he saw Loki in the dungeon. If Loki shows up beside us pretending to defect, it sells the story. They'll trust a traitor faster than they'd trust a rescue mission."
"You don't need him for the exit," Smith said. He turned his right hand over, and the Infinity Gauntlet materialized around it — gold, heavy, the Space Stone gleaming blue in its setting. "Heimdall can get us out. And if he can't, I'll reach Netherheim directly. No coordinates required."
Thor stared at the gauntlet for a full second. His eyes tracked from the Stone to Smith's face and back again. "You actually crushed it," he said quietly. The Tesseract — the greatest treasure in Asgard's vault, something his father had kept behind locked barriers for centuries. And Smith had simply held it and decided the casing was unnecessary. "Your power is..."
He stopped, apparently deciding there wasn't a sentence that finished that thought adequately. He gave Smith a thumbs-up instead.
Smith didn't comment on it. He let the gauntlet recede.
"Loki's useful," he said. "If he's willing. I'll wait for your signal."
Thor stepped forward and pulled Smith into a brief, solid embrace — the kind that didn't ask permission and didn't apologize for itself.
"Thank you, brother."
Smith watched him go. His expression didn't shift much, but the math was already running in the back of his mind. The Reality Stone was two steps away. Three Infinity Stones in the gauntlet.
He was almost looking forward to it.
The dungeon was quiet.
Loki's voice, when he spoke again, was quieter. "How is she recovering?"
"Fully." Thor met his brother's eyes. "She's fine. She's going to be fine."
The smallest thing moved in Loki's face and then went very still again.
"I'm not here about Mother," Thor said. "I'm here because I need you, and because I know you want what I want right now." He waited. "Malekith hurt her. He came into this palace and he put his hands on our family. I'm going to make him regret that. You can be part of that, or you can sit here."
Loki looked at him for a long moment. "You must be desperate," he said, "to come to me."
"I'm not desperate. I'm strategic." Thor stood. "I don't trust you. I want to be clear about that. But I believe there's still something in you that means it when it counts. You proved it when you thought she was gone."
Loki's eyes sharpened.
"Come with us," Thor said. "Take your revenge. Then come back here."
The silence stretched out for several seconds.
"When do we leave?" Loki said.
Thor opened the cell.
The corridor outside the dungeon was long, stone-floored, and currently occupied by two Asgardian guard rotations doing their rounds at intervals. Thor walked ahead, moving with purpose. Loki fell in behind him, adjusting his collar.
"You don't look like someone out for revenge," Thor said, without slowing down. "Pull yourself together."
Loki straightened his spine, and in the space of three steps went from hollow-eyed prisoner to composed, sharp-edged courtier. He shook out his hands once, the last of the cell-floor stillness dropping off him like a coat.
"I have to say, brother, this is refreshingly unlike you." There was a lightness in his voice that hadn't been there sixty seconds ago — not quite genuine, but not entirely performed either. "Sneaking through our own palace. No hammer. No rallying speech. I almost don't recognize you."
"If you don't keep quiet," Thor said flatly, "I will hit you."
"Fair enough." A beat. "What if I wasn't here at all?"
Loki's outline blurred, and where he'd been walking a fully armored Asgardian soldier now kept pace — same height, same stride, same indifference to the corridor around him. Thor glanced at it and kept moving.
"Much better."
"We could be even more discreet, though." Loki's voice came from the soldier's face without any mismatch. "I've been thinking about presentation."
Thor's appearance rippled. His armor narrowed, his silhouette changed, and where he'd been striding there was now Sif — warrior's posture, dark hair, cheekbones that had launched at least three diplomatic incidents.
Loki's voice dipped into something cheerfully appreciative. "Brother, you look beautiful."
Thor looked down at himself. His voice, now coming from Sif's mouth, dropped to its lowest register. "I will make sure you die horribly."
"Right, right. Your friend, then — you seem to enjoy his company quite a bit."
Thor's shape shifted again. This time it was Steve Rogers staring back from the corridor wall's reflection — the red-white-and-blue standing out against every inch of Asgardian stone. Loki had even included the shield.
"I could do this all day!" The voice was pitch-perfect.
Thor grabbed Loki by the collar and covered his mouth with one hand.
"Mmph—"
Thor pointed with two fingers at the far end of the corridor. Two guards, moving slowly, their boots scuffing the floor at a leisurely pace. Standard rotation.
Loki tracked them, then looked back at Thor, eyebrows raised above Thor's restraining hand. When the guards turned the corner and disappeared, he extracted his own face from Thor's grip with considerable dignity.
"At least give me a weapon," he said. "One of your daggers. Something. I'm not walking into this empty-handed."
Thor considered him. Then he pulled two short daggers from his belt and held them out.
Loki's eyes lit up — the specific brightness of someone who had expected a longer negotiation.
He reached for them.
The daggers hit his wrists and kept going, the metal shifting shape and color as they made contact — and suddenly Loki was standing in the corridor with both hands raised, Asgardian manacles locked tight around each wrist.
He stared at them.
Then he looked up at Thor.
Thor grinned. "You do love your little tricks."
He turned and walked. "Stay close."