So they were brought here and then cast away again with no explanations, were they? Loki bristled internally at this information, keeping his expression from growing too irritable for her sake. The idea that he was a plaything for some entity or organization with enough power to throw him through time and space without so much as a hint of where that power originated - that was not comforting. The fact that he could only be returned home when someone else saw fit - someone he could not see and could not reason with or manipulate or influence in any way whatsoever - only made things worse. He was essentially powerless at this stage in whatever game was being played, and there was little Loki enjoyed less than feeling powerless.
Loki offered a small smile once again, and a nod. "I assure you, my lady, I will find a way home, and I will be sure to inform you when I do. I am Loki," he offered a hand to take hers in a more proper greeting, "King of Asgard." The word king still tastes like dust in his mouth, doesn't fit right and fits all too well at the same time, but he has to get used to it, has to get used to embodying it. It is who he is, now.