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Chapter Text

Harken now, faithful listeners. Take a flagon and take heed for here is a tale of foolish pride and the rifts it can cut in the solid stone of brotherly love.

Here is Thor, shining sun, greatest of warriors, beloved first-born of Odin, and future ruler of the Realm Eternal.

Here is Loki, silver moon, slyest of sorcerers, beloved younger son of Odin, walker in his brother's shadow.

Here is Sif, beauty of the battlefield, great of strength and skill.

Here as well are the Warriors Three: Fandral the Dashing, master of the blade; Hogun the Grim, master of the mace; and Volstagg the Valiant, master of the table.

See them now about the table, seated in an alehouse much like this one. Thor, and Sif, and Warriors Three… Friends through the ages partaking of food and drink. Loki is not with them for he has been delayed, but he will be there soon enough, walking silent as a cat, passing through shadow without a sound, approaching the alehouse as he peruses a book of notes, hearing by chance as he nears a window…

 

 

 

"How is Loki like a woman?" Fandral said.

"Caution, Fandral, or you will be far less pretty come the morrow," Sif warned, toying with a dagger.

"Handsome, you mean," Fandral corrected her. "Pretty is more becoming of someone with slighter features. Loki, perhaps, although that is not the answer to my question."

"The way he minces about would be my guess," Volstagg said around a mouthful of stag, which he washed down with a mouthful of ale.

"Now, now," Thor said, nudging Volstagg's arm. "You speak of my brother, Volstagg. If he is light enough to take quick, precise steps instead of tossing his weight forward and hurrying after it, it hardly makes him womanly."

"Close enough," Volstagg replied. "Only women are so slight. Few are they with enough meat on them to take proper hold. My wife is one of the exceptions."

"You jest, but still I will hear no more of it," Thor said, smiling. "Although, I must ask, Fandral: Is it the robes he often wears?"

"Thor!" Sif said, feigning shock while all but Hogun laughed.

"I love my brother, Sif," Thor said, "but you must admit that, when he walks, they add a certain sway…"

"Enough, enough," Fandral said, waving him off. "Hogun, give us your best guess."

"I pass," Hogun said. "It is a senseless question to ask of one who has been known to change his shape."

"And with that, you are the closest," Fandral grinned. "For Loki's glamour brings men to their knees. Oh, come now, Hogun. You almost smiled at that."

Indeed, the rest of the table laughed, even Sif, who hid her mirth behind her fist.

"I think you overstretched yourself, Fandral," she said, "but given everyone else's contributions, it does paint quite a picture."

"You are twice the warrior, Sif," Fandral said. "You must at least admit to that."

"I'm twice the warrior of any of you," Sif replied, "so I won't deny it. You speak as though he doesn't contribute to our adventures."

"Ah, never that," Fandral said, only somewhat abashed, "but tell me how many sorcerers you have seen in battle."

"How many women have you seen in battle?" Sif countered.

"Sorcerers or sorceresses, then," Fandral amended. "You are a warrior, no matter your shape. That is different."

"Indeed," Volstagg added, "I don't believe there are so few women on the battlefield because they cannot fight, rather, most of those blessed with seidr are women and they stay behind to scry, heal, perform blessings, and do all the things that require such talents and are not done well in a noisy environment."

"An interesting observation," Sif said, stifling further comments with a swallow of ale.

"In truth, Loki's magic differs," Volstagg allowed, "and is better suited to battle. His knives are keen and his wits no less so. But these are shadow arts and he is always at a distance. Never does he hold the line with us."

"And you have never chanced to fight at a distance?" Hogun said shrewdly. "Even a great distance while facing away from the enemy?"

"I admit that I have occasionally made use of the strategic retreat to further my plans," Volstagg admitted, "but it was never done in shadow."

Thor laughed. "You see trouble where none lies, Volstagg. Of course Loki fights differently. I fight on the front lines. I am proud of my abilities, proud as well to fight alongside such glorious heroes as yourselves, but where would we be if all fought as we do? When the front line is broken, what comes next? If we all face forward, who will watch our backs?

"No, my friends, Loki's tricks are a skill as valuable as any other warrior's. If he is not a rock in the wall that defies our foes, what of it? He is much quicker and able to move from stone to stone lending support and filling in those gaps through which the enemy might pass. If he cannot fight toe to toe with a sword, does it matter? He will sink his dagger in the back of any enemy that would do the same to us."

"Such acts are dishonourable," Volstagg grumbled.

"And yet we never run out of enemies who are willing to attempt it," Thor said. "Why should they have the advantage? He has sharp eyes and a sharper mind; he can see the tides of battle and put pressure on its weakest points. He is my brother and I love him, Volstagg. I am proud to fight with you at my side, but there is no other I would trust with my back."

"I never said I did not love him, Thor," Volstagg said, but he was much subdued. "He's a good boy and makes me laugh. It is his methods with which I take issue."

"I have no love of them either," Fandral agreed, "although I do not doubt his loyalty and freely admit that he has been more a boon than a hindrance."

Sif snorted. "More a boon? When has Loki never pulled his weight? In melee combat, he seems weaker, but tell me, Fandral, how does your sword fare against an arrow?"

"I am with Sif," Hogun said.

"I would go further and say that Loki's skills are the most useful," Thor added. "In the heat of battle, weaknesses are revealed – it is the same for anyone – but given time to prepare, Loki's tricks would best you all in any chosen skill."

"That sounds suspiciously like cheating, Thor," Fandral said.

"Of course," Thor told him, "but if you know of it and expect it, it is just another aspect of the sport. If you know of it, expect it, and do not plan for it, well… It is on your head."

"The Dwarves make sport of such things," Hogun said. "They have competitions with the expectation that everyone will cheat. The winner is he who succeeds in out-cheating his opponents. To win without cheating is dishonourable."

"Hogun speaks the truth," Thor said. "Though I do not propose so much. I wager only that, with foreknowledge of the contest, Loki could devise a way to best you all. No matter your strength, there is a way to counterfeit it."

"A wager, you say? I might drink to that," Volstagg said.

"You would drink to anything," Fandral said. "Although I am intrigued. What do you propose?"

"A friendly wager. A contest for each of you, terms outlined. I can guarantee within three days time Loki will have found a way to beat you."

"This is vulgar," Sif said. "Loki is not even here to speak for himself, yet you would place a wager on him?"

"He will be game," Thor said. "I know my brother and he likes to strut. Even if he did not, he would not fail to do as I ask."

"What would I not fail to do, brother?" Loki said, approaching the table.

He was well groomed as always, his book stowed safely away in his satchel, and he straightened his coat before sitting down, smoothing it over the leg of his trousers. He signaled to the serving woman to bring him ale like the others.

"A wager," Thor said, clamping a hand down on Loki's shoulder. "These fools do not believe your skills adequate. I have proposed a series of contests against Sif and the Warriors Three. Each will name a contest relevant to their skills and I have wagered that, with foreknowledge, your wit will allow you to find a way to beat them. What say you, brother?"

"I say you think too highly of me," Loki replied. "Our strengths marry well to hide our weaknesses. Why should I wish to usurp them?"

"You would not," Thor said. "Were the contest sudden, each strength would prevail on its own merit. My point is that, with time and foreknowledge, your wit and trickery can match and surpass the greatest strengths of any opponent."

"No matter who wins, one or the other will be humiliated, Thor," Loki said. "Either I am proven inadequate and faith is lost in me or the worth of my opponent's skill is diminished. Why should I strain our friendship so?"

"Because you will not lose and a victory won by trickery is no slight against true skill," Thor told him. "If it is a concern, we will avoid military contests, placing no doubt upon one's worth on the battlefield."

"And if I do not wish to?" Loki said quietly.

"Then you wound my pride and my faith in you, brother. My claims have already been made."

Sif rolled her eyes.

"You will lose nothing if Loki does not wish to participate," she said. "Did I not say it was vulgar to make wagers on behalf of those who are not present?"

"Indeed, Sif, indeed," Volstagg said. "Thor loses nothing but our respect and we will always wonder if his brother isn't a bit of a coward."

"Come now, don't be so dire," Fandral said. "Or, at the least, don't be so blunt."

"Oh, stop posturing," Sif said, thumping her flagon on the table. "You are not children!"

"Indeed," Hogun added. "Neither Thor nor Loki stands to lose if Loki refuses. But I must admit the wager intrigues me."

"And I," Volstagg said.

"And I," Fandral agreed. "Come, Sif. Are you not the least bit curious about what Loki might do?"

"Loki is as Loki does and this will be true with or without a wager," Sif said. "Although I will certainly take part if he is willing."

"You see? It is a friendly contest," Thor said, clapping his hand on Loki's shoulder. "What say you now, brother?"

Loki clasped his flagon and stared into his drink. Regardless of Thor's conviction, he was certain the contest would not remain friendly for long. But what could he do? If he refused now, he would forever be the coward – even Sif would think it although she claimed otherwise – and Thor's disappointment would haunt him long after the matter seemed to be forgotten. If he accepted and lost, he would be ridiculed. If he accepted and won, he would be resented. It was not that they did not like him, Loki knew, but warriors of Asgard had little love for tricks and to be bested by them would be a blow they could not forgive.

Of course, if he accepted and won, Thor would be vindicated. Thor would stand by him. It was the only scenario that Loki could see that did not result in a complete loss for him.

"What are the terms of this wager?" he asked, sipping his ale.

"I knew you would agree!" Thor said, visibly excited.

"I have not yet agreed," Loki told him peevishly. "I wish to know the terms."

"Each will declare a contest and you will have three days to prepare," Thor said. "The contests must not be military in nature. You may use any form of trickery you like…"

"But no glamour," Fandral said promptly, "and no battlefield magic. If we cannot use our weapons, nor should you."

"No spells cast during the contest and no spells cast upon yourself," Thor amended. "Enchanted items will be permitted if you create them beforehand."

Fandral considered this and then nodded his agreement.

"And what do I stand to gain?" Loki prompted.

Thor shrugged. "The winner will gain honour and prestige. We had not thought further…"

"I propose that the losing party pay a night's carousing for us all in this inn," Volstagg said. "We can only lose once, but you stand to lose four times and I will be present at every occasion. You must truly have faith in your boasts."

"And do not think to pass that punishment off on Loki, should he fail," Sif said.

Thor laughed.

"I would do no such thing, nor will I have to," he said. "I am confident in my brother's abilities. I accept your terms."

"But does Loki accept them?"

Loki looked around the table. Sif seemed concerned and Hogun uncommitted, but Volstagg, Fandral, and Thor all looked eagre.

"Of course," Loki said, smiling brightly. "With whom shall we start?"

Chapter Text

Now as well you know, dear listeners, Hogun the Grim is renowned for his stoicism and endurance in battle. His skill with blunt weapons is legendary and it is said that his scowling face is the last thing seen by many a foe sent to Hel.

Those who know him best have seen him smile, often at the thought of a worthy enemy's demise, but on the field of battle his expression is inflexible and he will march equally through burning heat and freezing cold to bring victory to his king.

It is thus that Hogun requested a test of endurance: one for cold, one for heat, and one for stoicism of spirit requiring not a smile or shred of anger, no matter what the others did to entice them. The first to plead for release from the cold or relief from the heat was forfeit, as was the first to react. Only two of the three were necessary for a win although the trial of stoicism endured throughout the trials of cold and heat.

Loki had an affinity for cold, but did not enjoy the heat, and it was thought that, expressive as he was, he would not be able to resist appeals to his emotions. In this way, Hogun hoped to triumph.

Loki was given three days to prepare…

 

 

 

"Are you sure you do not want another cloak?" Thor said. He sat comfortably beside the fire as he watched his friend and his brother standing in the snow on a strip of ledge designated a no-man's land in the outer reaches Jötunheim. It was safe from treaty violations, but still cold enough for their purposes and he quite enjoyed the spectacle of Hogun shivering while Loki stood unaffected by the blowing wind.

The rule, it was decided, allowed for as much clothing as the contestants wished; only the request to leave would be damning. It seemed easy enough to wait out the cold with heavy fur and multiple cloaks, but standing perfectly still on an exposed ledge made the cold seem sharper and the wind more violent.

As it stood, Hogun was bundled well against the elements, with multiple furs and heavy boots, while Loki stood in nothing but a loose tunic, breeches, coat, and cloak. Only his thick-soled boots were heavier than normal, a concession to the cold ground on which he stood.

And yet, it was to Hogun that Thor laughingly made his offer.

"Your jest does not amuse," Hogun told him. "Do you not even shiver, Loki?"

Loki shrugged and shook his head, his expression neutral. "It seems not. I'm sorry, Hogun, but I feel you will lose this portion of the wager."

"I willingly concede," Hogun said. "You have always adapted easily to the cold and in my mind the outcome was never in doubt. It was merely necessary to visit both extremes for the sake of fairness."

"Your consideration is appreciated," Loki said and though he schooled his voice and showed no emotion, there was no doubt that he was sincere. "Shall we move to the steam bath?"

They had rigged a hut not far away with a brazier of stones and buckets of water. As with the trial of cold, clothing was in the control of the contestants and only a request to end the trial could result in a loss. Hogun stripped away his clothing, but Loki remained in his tunic and trousers. This came as some surprise as he was not shy and did not like the heat, but he assured them that he was fine.

"After all," he said evenly, "if it is impressive to bear the cold with little clothing, is it not equally impressive to bear the heat fully dressed?"

Inside the hut they sat, Hogun and Loki, piling stones upon the fire and dipping them into the water. The heat rose steadily. The steam filled their lungs. They bore it stoically, although Loki began to pant as the trial went on, his breath coming in short gasps, the humidity choking him. Thor, Volstagg, and Fandral took turns stepping inside to watch and judge, switching places when the heat became too intense. They joked and jeered and otherwise tried to elicit a response from the two contestants, but Hogun remained grim and Loki did not smile or curse, seemed, in fact, a bit disconnected from the whole affair.

"Do you know," Loki said as Fandral took his place inside and another stone was added to the water. "I think this might kill me."

"The price of modesty," Hogun said unmoved. "Strip off your tunic or beg to leave."

"I might at that," Loki said, "but not quite yet. We would then be even?"

"Indeed."

"What are the rules again for stoicism?"

"No humour, no anger, or other strong emotion," Hogun said.

"No matter what I do to invoke it," Fandral added. "Short of touching you, of course. Otherwise I might poke you with a stick until you snarled."

"I see," Loki said, his face blank. "May I touch you?"

"Whatever for?" Fandral said, affronted. He was thoroughly startled when Loki leapt forward, hooked an arm around his head, and kissed him full on the lips.

Fandral choked and kicked, but Loki held fast until Hogun roared laughter at the sight of them. The moment he did so, the door burst open and Loki pushed his way through it, quick as a cat, leaving Thor to blink after him.

"I lose this trial as well," Hogun declared, "and I am not sorry in the least. I would pay for each of your rounds to see that look on your face again, Fandral."

Outside, Loki fell to his knees in the snow, ripping and pulling at his tunic, much to Sif's bewilderment. When he finally managed to get it off, she gasped and bent to help him. He wore a thick cord wrapped multiple times around his torso and crossed over his chest. This turned out to be cow gut, washed and partially filled with water. It puzzled Sif, but did not disturb her quite as much as the scratches over his shoulders and down his upper arms.

Loki paid none of this any mind, but pressed handfuls of snow to his chest and neck, trying to cool off as best he could. Sif took a scoop in each hand and, mindful of the scratches, ran the snow over his back and down to his waist.

"In Odin's name, what have you done?" she said once he was breathing normally again.

"Oh. Well…" Loki began and flopped down on the cold ground, rolling onto his back to look up at Sif and the bright blue sky. "The cow gut filled with water was to keep me cool," he said. "It might have worked better if I had been out in the cold longer. I meant for it to freeze solid. Even so, it served well enough for a while. It was starting to heat up in the steam bath though. I couldn't bear it."

"You could have just removed it and stripped off your tunic," Sif said.

"I needed the tunic. It…"

Loki murmured an oath, winced, and grabbed a handful of snow, rubbing it into the scratches.

"Stop that, I have a salve," Sif said, fishing a small pot out of her bag. "It is for wounds and burns. Now, sit up, foolish boy."

Reluctantly, Loki sat up and let Sif smear a paste of herbs and rendered fat over the scratches on his arms. Near the shack, Hogun had managed to tug on his clothing and was regaling Thor and Volstagg with the description of Fandral's face as Loki kissed him. Soon they, too, were enjoying a laugh at their friend's expense.

"Did you really?" Sif asked Loki, obviously amused.

"Yes. I… I needed something to end the contest quickly and it came to me," Loki said. His voice was halting and somewhat disconnected.

"You sound odd," Sif told him. "Are you all right?"

"Ah… Too much poison, I expect," Loki said. "No, no…it's all right," he insisted when Sif looked alarmed. "It's very mild. It…makes it hard for me to concentrate so that I'm less likely to react with emotion. I soaked some…ah…thorns in it and put them in my sleeves. It will go away now that they have been removed."

"Thor, come here," Sif called. "Do not touch your brother's tunic," she said when he bent to pick it up. "It is sewn with poisoned thorns."

She recounted what Loki had told her.

"Rather clever, that," Volstagg admitted.

"Clever? He bleeds for your silly wager, Thor," Sif said irritably.

"We have bled worse for less," Thor said. "Admit my brother's methods are genius. If you had been a bit more steady in the cold, Hogun, you might have lost the trial of heat as well."

"And would have deserved the loss. I am mightily impressed," Hogun said.

He held a hand out to Loki, who grasped it firmly, hauled him to his feet, and pulled him into a back-slapping embrace. When they parted, Thor draped Loki's coat over his shoulders.

"You are well enough to ride, brother?" Thor asked him.

Loki forced a smile.

"I am, and better every moment," he said, telling only half a lie. "The poison was very irritating, but the salve helped much. Thank you, Sif."

"Thank me by not getting yourself killed over this fool venture," Sif replied. "Ride back with me. You look half-dead."

"But still half-alive. I am fine," Loki insisted.

"Then do it to humour me. I will only nag you if you don't," Sif said.

"Then do it for all of us," Fandral begged. "Do not let her start her complaints. We will none of us hear the end of them. Years from now she will remind us of how we let you ride half-dead from Jötunheim to Asgard. She will tell the tale to your children."

"All right, all right… I will ride with you, Sif," Loki said and if any saw his relief, they were kind enough not to mention it. "Do you wish me in front of you like a child?"

"I wish to be able to see," Sif said, "so you must sit behind. But keep your arms locked around me. I would not have you fall."

"So little faith," Loki replied, but he smiled when he said it and, this time, his expression was genuine.

They struck apart the hut and collected the buckets and braziers before calling Heimdall to summon the Bifrost. Upon their return to Asgard, they went their separate ways: Thor, Sif, and the Warriors Three descended upon the inn to secure their table and Loki entered the halls of healing to be properly wrapped and dosed with an antidote to keep his mind from wandering.

He arrived late at the inn, but stayed late as well, conversing with Hogun and Volstagg. Fandral had wandered off with a pretty lady on each arm and Thor and Sif had wandered off together. Possibly to duel, Volstagg suggested, although he suggested it in such a way as to imply that swords and hammers were not the weapons of choice.

Loki did not say much to this, finding silence to be a better tutor. Instead he turned the conversation to the day's contest and other feats long past, allowing Volstagg's love of story to give him hints as to his next trial.

Chapter Text

Are there any among you, dear listeners, who do not know of the Lion of Asgard? Volstagg, as great of heart as he is of girth, and member of the Warriors Three. He is less skilled with a sword on the battlefield than he is with a knife at the dinner table, but there is no truer friend in all of the Nine Realms.

Those who have heard his gossip know he does not shy away from crude words and insults, but seldom are they meant to harm. And while his opinion of Loki's shadow games is not high, he cares for Thor and Loki both and thinks of them as family.

Thus it was that when he declared his trial of the banquet, he also declared an unwillingness to slay his beloved youngest brother with surfeit and gallantly imposed a limit. For though it is impossible for any Aesir to match Volstagg when eating to repletion, it is only improbable that any should match him to his satisfaction.

He set a menu that would keep him for a few hours and declared that if Loki could finish it within a reasonable window of time and top it with one more flagon of ale, he should be declared the winner.

Loki was again given three days to prepare…

 

 

 

"You are looking very lovely today," Volstagg said when Loki presented himself at the inn.

Indeed, Loki wore a black scholar's robe, fitted across the chest and flowing to the floor. The sleeves were voluminous and partly hid his hands. These he clasped in front of him and smiled knowingly at Volstagg.

"I wish to be comfortable," he said, lifting the robe slightly to take a seat, and then spreading it over his lap. "You are great in stature, Volstagg, but my slighter form is perhaps less…accommodating. Why add the complication of restrictive clothing?"

"A very good point," Volstagg said, "but do avoid Fandral if at all possible. It is better to be safe than sorry."

"Come now," Fandral said. "My hands are not as wandering as all that…"

"Enough with your jests," Thor said. "Do we begin or not? I will buy the first round for those of us who are not participating. Someone begin a tale. No one wishes to listen to Volstagg's table manners."

"What you call crude, I call proof of enjoyment," Volstagg said, signaling to the serving women who brought forth the first of several platters. "Delicacy is lost the moment a perfect piece of roasted boar passes one's lips."

"My brother will manage," Thor said.

"In that case, I wish him well in keeping up with me."

"Thor is too kind," Loki said. "I fear my manners will disappoint as well if it's speed that you are after."

"No matter, begin," Fandral said. "We haven't got all night. Well, we have," he relented, "but I don't intend to stay long enough to see you disqualify yourself for taking too long. There are lonely ladies in Asgard and I do them no service sitting here."

Loki grinned and the contestants took their first bites as Fandral began a rambling tale about a woman unusually resistant to his charms and the wily ways he went about changing her mind.

"At least she was Aesir and we understood one another," Fandral said. "The real challenge is to woo a goddess from elsewhere. Mortals can be charmed easily enough, no matter where they are from, but goddesses have their own rules and moods. Tricky. That huntress from the Middling Sea? I am thankful I escaped with my manhood intact."

"Aye, she was a good shot," Volstagg said, sucking grease from his fingers. "You should thank the Norns your feet are not as skilled as your tongue. If you hadn't stumbled off that path, your voice would be much higher pitched."

"It would not have stopped her long. If Thor and Loki had not caught and calmed her, she would be after me still. Loki seems to have a way with foreign ladies. Perhaps that should be my challenge, hey?"

"Perhaps," Loki allowed, swallowing quickly, "although gallivanting about Midgard is frowned upon these days. Too many alliances are in delicate balance."

A serving girl took away Volstagg's platter and presented him with another. Shortly thereafter, another did the same for Loki.

"Well, now. You seem to be doing well," Fandral remarked. "I would not have thought you able to keep pace with Volstagg. You or anyone else for that matter."

"It is a challenge, I must make the effort," Loki said around a mouthful. "Although I fear my pace will begin to slow. I have not nearly the stamina of valiant Volstagg."

He absentmindedly wiped his hand on his robe, provoking Thor.

"Has my fastidious brother grown so slack already?" Thor teased. "You will ruin your robes if you continue."

"Why do you think I wore black in the first place?" Loki replied. "It hides all manner of sins and it will wash."

"Speaking of washing and your way with goddesses, did you ever get the perfume out of that cloak?" Fandral said. "I know it was some time ago, but I don't think I've seen that cloak since."

"No," Loki admitted, tucking a piece of venison in his mouth. "The oil held fast. The scent was pleasant, but perhaps not best worn by a man."

"Ah, I had nearly forgotten her," Volstagg said. Unlike Loki, he made no attempt to conceal the fact that his mouth was full. "River girl, wasn't she?"

"From beyond the Middling Sea," Thor agreed. "She had traveled to the market for time alone."

"I liked her," Volstagg said. "Seemed elegant, but was not put off by warriors such as us. Her brother was a right bastard though."

Thor grinned "Probably why she was not put off by warriors such as us. I don't believe I met him."

"Came to find her once when she was visiting Asgard. I think you were out hunting," Volstagg said.

"I remember that," Sif said to Loki. "I thought she was very nice. I never did learn how you met her."

"I will tell you, if you can bear my doing so with my mouth full," Loki said.

"I listen to Volstagg's stories every night," Sif assured him. "You could do no worse."

Loki smiled at her and ate a piece of bread.

"We arrived at the markets ahead of bad weather," he said. "It was not that she was completely unfamiliar with rain, but her land was very dry and she was woefully unprepared for the storm that broke over us. Feeling gallant, I dismounted, wrapped my cloak around her shoulders and led her to shelter…"

Loki was an animated storyteller, gesturing constantly with his hands when they were not occupied in tearing pieces of food from his plate or raising a mug to his lips. When family obligations forced Loki and his lady to part, albeit on good terms, Sif applauded the performance.

"You should tell us tales more often," she said. "You are usually so quiet."

"I learn better by listening," Loki said. He sounded short of breath. "I enjoy everyone's tales. Even if Volstagg mainly contributes menus from every inn in the Nine Realms."

"You are not far wrong," Volstagg said, "but note that I am finished and you are far behind, princeling."

"Not so far," Loki replied.

"I shall be starving again by the time you are through."

"Then someone else tell a tale," Loki said. "I can chew more quickly when I'm not talking."

"Hogun, you haven't said a thing all evening," Fandral said. "I believe it's your turn."

"I have no tales," Hogun said. "Like Loki, I prefer to listen."

"A sign of your grand intellectual pursuits, I'm sure," Volstagg said.

Hogun grinned.

"More a pursuit for material with which to blackmail you," he said. "It is fascinating how much you share when you are in your cups."

"Come now, Hogun," Fandral said. "You have never wooed a woman from outside of Asgard? I find that rather hard to believe."

"Wooed? Never," Hogun said. "Unlike you, there has never been a need for me to put forth the effort."

Thor and Volstagg roared laughter and Sif could not help smiling and shaking her head. Even Fandral grinned as he offered Hogun a gesture of warning although there was no threat in it. Loki only exhaled gustily and thumped the table.

"Done!" he declared, pushing aside his empty plate.

"Not yet," Volstagg reminded him. "One more flagon or the deal is off."

Loki groaned, clutched his forehead with both palms, and tilted it back before sighing and running his hands through his hair.

"I had hoped you would forget," he wheedled.

"Forget a flagon of ale? I would as soon forget my own children," Volstagg said and signaled to the serving woman who brought one last stein to the table.

"I swear, you have chosen the largest you could find," Loki said, grasping it.

"You only say that because, compared to me, you are so small," Volstagg said. "Drink it all at once, now. Don't sip it all night or I will declare you forfeit."

"All right, all right," Loki said and raised the cup to his lips. He downed it in long swallows while Thor, Fandral, and Hogun jeered good-naturedly and Sif looked exasperated. When he finished, he slammed the mug down on the table.

"Done and twice done," he declared.

"Then I will proclaim you the winner although you are no match for my true appetite," Volstagg said. "Now show us how it was done. You haven't the body, let alone the stomach, to match me."

Looking faintly embarrassed, Loki stood up, allowing his robes to fall around him. He took a cutting knife from the table and reached into the folds of his robe. Now that he had put both hands through it, the others could see the slit in the fabric. Loki made a small tugging motion and then cut with the knife. A leather sack dropped to the floor, saved from spillage by the thong that served as a drawstring. He repeated the process on the other side and further removed a bladder of liquid stopped with a sponge. All in all, the secret compartments accounted for at least half of what Loki appeared to have consumed, if not a little more.

Volstagg sighed.

"Clever enough, I suppose, but it seems a waste," he said. "However did you manage that under our noses?"

"When one hand is talking, no one pays attention to the other," Loki explained, gesturing as he did during his story. He also demonstrated that every time he wiped his fingers on the cloth, he was secreting away bits of food.

"Genius," Fandral declared.

"There is nothing genius about wasting good food," Volstagg insisted.

"If that's to be your concern, do not suggest an eating contest in a game of wits," Fandral told him. "At least the rest of us can order now and it will be on your head."

Volstagg laughed. "I still get off lightly. The lot of you could never match what I pay in a single sitting."

"I'm afraid I must politely decline," Loki said. He smiled apologetically when the comment earned him raised eyebrows and little else. "Clever I may be, but one still must consume enough to keep up appearances and, against Volstagg, enough to keep up appearances is still too much for me."

"And so, in loss I am vindicated," Volstagg said.

"Was there doubt?" Thor said. "My wager was for illusion. Your natural skill could best us all." To Loki he added, "Goodnight then, brother. Congratulations on another successful trick. Worry not about the mess; we shall have it cleaned up."

"My thanks," Loki said, bowing slightly, "and goodnight."

A little while after he had left, Sif bent close to Thor.

"You should go after him," she whispered.

"If he wishes to rest, I will not disturb him," Thor returned in kind.

"He looked rather ill."

"All the more reason to let him rest. He will feel better in the morning."

Sif sat in silence for several minutes, and then sighed and whispered again.

"He does this for you, you know. It would not hurt to show appreciation by making sure he is well."

"It does not hurt to show trust either," Thor pointed out. "My brother knows what he wants and what he is doing."

"If you won't go, then I will," Sif said, rising.

Thor was kind and noble and good, she thought as she left the inn, but when it came to showing he cared, he was ham-fisted at best and seemed disinclined to admit that sometimes things that should be shared were left unspoken, although he was a consummate player of the game himself.

At the door to Loki's chamber, she hesitated briefly before knocking. She stepped inside when she was bidden enter.

Loki stood regally, still in his robes, hands folded in front of him. She noted that he held his hands clasped more tightly than he had previously, pressing them to his chest. Beside him on the small table near his bed stood a silver goblet and a water jug.

"Good evening, Sif," he said, smiling politely. "To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?"

"Odin's sake, Loki," Sif said. "I have known you and your brother since we were small. Do not pretend with me."

A look of supreme relief crossed Loki's face and he sank down on the edge of the bed. His expression became pained as he hunched forward, his arms wrapped around his belly.

"Now that is a genuine reaction," Sif said mildly, moving to sit beside him. "Will you be all right?'

"I am fine," Loki insisted. "I have medicine." He nodded toward the silver cup. "I simply cannot bring myself to drink it."

"It is probably best to steel yourself and have done with it," Sif said. "An upset stomach is to be expected."

"Against Volstagg? It was, but I did not expect my back to hurt so much."

"It's not so surprising. Strain in the belly is often felt in the back. Ask any woman."

Sif put a hand to the small of his back and rubbed in circles.

"Here?" she asked and then raised her hand slightly. "Or here?"

When Loki groaned softly in response, she smiled.

"Wait a moment," she said and walked around to the other side of the bed where she knelt and kneaded his back with both hands. "Better?"

"If you've any other tricks, I might ask you to marry me," Loki said.

"You are too much a brother to me, I fear," Sif said. "But that is why I am concerned. You do not need to do this, you know."

"When you were training, why did you always accept fights against opponents you knew you could not beat?" Loki returned.

"Because if I did not, I was a coward," Sif replied. "If I did and I lost, then I was a weak woman, but perhaps worthy of another chance. When I won, I was Sif."

Hearing her own tale, Sif sighed.

"You need not worry about such things," she said softly. "Hogun, Fandral, and Volstagg like to tease, but that is all. They won't mind if you quit the contest. You are their beloved little brother."

"I don't want to be a little brother. I want to be Loki."

"To many people, you will be more than just one thing or another," Sif said. "This includes Thor. If he is proud of you, you should not need to prove yourself."

"He is not proud of me," Loki said. "He is proud to have me and my abilities at hand."

"And you think that vindicating this pride will change things?"

Loki shrugged beneath her touch. "I know not. I hope it will afford the opportunity."

Sif ran her hands up Loki's back and rubbed his shoulders a moment before leaning forward and wrapping her arms around him.

"I think you ask for heartbreak," she told him. "That is far too subtle a difference for your brother. Still, I wish you luck. You should drink your medicine and rest. You will feel better."

"Thank you, Sif," Loki said. "You will still challenge me?"

Sif could not tell if this was an insistence or a request to withdraw.

"I will," she admitted, standing and walking back around to the front of the room. "I am not concerned with winning or losing though. I'm only curious as to what you will do. You are ever surprising. However, I think Fandral will come first."

"As is his way," Loki said, feigning innocence when Sif laughed.

He drained the silver cup and thanked her again, and then Sif left him to sleep, making her way back to the inn where the other warriors raised their mugs to her and ushered her back into their midst.

Chapter Text

Faithful listeners, do not deny it: more than one of you has surely felt the allure of Fandral's charms. While some have the strength to resist him, many more fall for his sweet words and flattery. Some do so gladly, knowing that what he offers is without expectation or attachment, but those who hope for more are often disappointed.

It comes as no surprise to you, dear listeners, that Fandral's contest involved the charming of women, but as it was unreasonable to expect any man to hunger for the variety that Fandral sought, he kindly whittled down the contest to the whims of a single woman.

Eilif Andsvarsdóttir. Cool, remote, and nearly unapproachable. It is said by many that ice will not melt between her legs. Fandral has tried his wiles upon her many times without success. She seemed the perfect target for their trial.

It was thought that Loki would not need three days to prepare for either one had charm or one did not, but a banquet was scheduled in three days time and it was decided that this would be the perfect venue for Fandral and Loki to begin their quest…

 

 

 

"Remember, it is the first to bring her naked to their bed who wins," Fandral said, adjusting his armour one last time.

"I am aware," Loki replied.

"And you are not allowed to order her as prince of the realm."

"I know, Fandral," Loki said, exasperated. "I have even dressed plainly so as not to impress my rank upon her." He paused and smiled impishly. "Are you worried?"

"Of course not," Fandral said, "but you must admit that rank can take the place of charm, at least in the beginning, and that is not what this contest is about."

"My brother does not need such trappings," Thor said. "Your silver tongue is no match for his."

"Know that I am against this," Sif said. "That poor woman has done nothing to deserve being badgered this way. Why do we not go in?"

"We wait for Hogun and Volstagg," Thor replied just as the pair of them entered the corridor, "but speak of a demon and he will appear."

"Kind of you to wait for us," Volstagg said as they approached. "We would not miss the initial encounter."

"I would not," Hogun agreed, "but Volstagg was in less of a hurry."

"Family matters," Volstagg insisted. "You would know if you found a girl with whom you could settle down. It appears I am the only one so blessed. But now we are here. Let the game begin!"

Sif rolled her eyes and the group entered the hall.

Eilif was easily spotted. Her beauty was nearly legendary: hair of gold so pale it glowed a warm white, eyes so blue they rivaled the sky. She was the daughter of a minor nobleman, but one in good standing with a vast family fortune and her gown floated about her in cream and gold.

"I shall go first if you have no objections," Fandral said.

"I am happy to observe for a time," Loki replied.

"Do not wait too long or you will find yourself on the losing end," Fandral told him, and melted into the crowd heading in Eilif's general direction.

"They are toying with her affections for your wager. Does this not shame you, Thor?" Sif said.

"I have met Eilif and she is very self-possessed," Thor replied. "Sorry, Loki, but I don't think either of you can convince her."

"That is not the point," Sif said, but in a low voice. It was obvious that no one cared to listen to her opinion.

They sat and watched surreptitiously as Fandral approached Eilif and tried to woo her with sweet words. She listened for a time, although she seemed distracted, and eventually excused herself, moving to greet another of the guests and walking with them to the other side of the hall.

"Better luck next time," Volstagg said as Fandral rejoined them at the table.

"Too soon, I think," Fandral said. "She was waiting for something, I know not what. Now she is speaking with friends. There is time enough to try again."

And try he did, endeavouring to be nearby at least three times when something was needed so that he could provide the service to her, but each time, though she thanked him, she seemed disinclined to speak with him further. Eventually, Loki took two cups of wine and went to see her.

"My lady," he said, sitting down next to her and passing her a cup. "You seem rather sad. Try some of this wine. It is a fine vintage."

"I am quite certain it is," Eilif replied politely, but with little warmth. "I am offered many fine wines. Does this one bring fire to the belly and blood to the loins?"

"Oh, I hope not," Loki said, looking into the cup. "It's for drinking. I shouldn't trust a wine that set fire to anything, let alone made it bleed."

Eilif stared at him curiously for a moment and then laughed into her hand. Loki noted that, although she sounded delighted, the laughter did not reach her eyes.

"I'm so sorry," she said. "I am often plagued by men whose intentions are less than honourable. I blame my family's fortune."

"I offer only wine," Loki told her, holding out the cup. "It really is good, especially if sipped slowly and savoured. As I said, you seemed sad. I thought good wine and good company would cheer you."

"And here I have spit venom upon you," Eilif said kindly, taking the cup. "I am truly sorry."

"I understand completely," Loki assured her. "It is impossible to tell at a glance who is insufferable and who is merely tolerable."

Eilif smiled and this time her eyes lit with a fraction of good humour.

"And who are you, kind sir?"

"I am Loki. No one of note."

"Ah. Asgard's prince."

Loki sighed. "You weren't actually supposed to know that. I wish to converse without imposing my rank upon anyone." He gestured to his clothing, well cut, but plain. "I am in disguise."

"Then you should have thought to change your name," Eilif said. "There is only one Loki. You are known by story, if not on sight. Such is the price of royalty." She paused, looking into her cup. "And renown."

"I admit, you are frequently talked about," Loki said. "It is why I could not help but notice you and your sadness. You know, I am very discrete. If you tell me your troubles, I won't share them with hardly anyone."

"Oh, it is nothing you care to know about," Eilif said, amused. "I would not bore you with the details. It is simply that a woman from a rich family must marry well and I am dissatisfied with my lot in life."

"I insist," Loki replied. "Sometimes merely talking about one's troubles eases them."

Eilif considered this, and then nodded. She went on to tell him of the parade of terrors her father presented to her in the guise of grooms and the various ways she went about spoiling the deal. There was only one man both she and her father would accept, but he had proven unwilling to put himself forward.

"We knew each other as children before we were forced down our separate paths," she said. "He would not be the perfect man, but I know he is kind and his father has many holdings that would complement my family's merchant past very well. He agrees that the arrangement is sound, but is shy and won't put the idea to his father, who thinks he should marry above his station. I do not see the need for rank in our situation; wealth will open as many doors."

"You seem a shrewd negotiator. I am impressed," Loki said. "You have not brought this to the attention of your father or his?"

"Alas, I am as lacking in courage as he," Eilif sighed, "and my father is the sort who believes that daughters should not take interest in the affairs of men. I cannot bring myself to countermand him."

"It might take as little as voicing the idea in mixed company where it is too late to take anything back and the words might fall on the right ears," Loki said. "Of course, this, too, requires courage, but in that I might be able to help you."

Eilif regarded him curiously, lifting a single, delicately arched eyebrow.

"I am a sorcerer of some note," Loki said. "I could perhaps cast a spell to enhance your courage. It would not solve anything," he added quickly. "That is something only you can do yourself. But it would boost your personal power and perhaps help you to…move things along in a direction you find fitting."

Eilif was intrigued.

"Was do you demand in recompense for this spell?" she asked.

"Nothing, fair lady. It would be my pleasure to assist you. However…" Here Loki toyed with his cup as though steeling himself for a dire revelation. "The spell is rather delicate and long and cannot be done in a crowd. I would need to ask you to come with me to my chamber.

"Of course you may have a chaperone," he said when Eilif's eyes darkened in suspicion and anger. "I happen to know the Lady Sif quite well. She is a great warrior, equal to any man, and more than strong enough to put me in my place if I try anything untoward."

"I suppose that would be all right," Eilif said although the look of suspicion did not leave her.

Loki gestured for Sif to join them and introduced the women to one another.

"Lady Eilif asks a favour of me," Loki said, "but I must bring her to my chamber to fulfill it. I would not have her honour tainted. Will you consent to be her guardian and ensure that I act only in the most gallant fashion?"

"Of course," Sif said, eying him curiously. "It would be my pleasure to act as the Lady Eilif's defender."

"You needn't sound so dire, Sif," Loki said, grinning. "We only mean to weave some enchantment…"

On their way to his chamber, Loki commanded a servant to bring him fresh sheets, a small flannel, a wooden bowl, pure water, a little oil, and a small list of ingredients that Sif did not recognize by name, but was certain were used in either cookery or healing. These items arrived at the door shortly after they and Loki went about his preparations, laying one of the sheets out atop his bed and putting the bowl, oil, water, and herbs upon the table beside it.

"This is where it gets tricky," he said, smiling apologetically. "You see, I must write the spell upon your bare flesh. It need only be the back," he added hurriedly, "but you must be entirely bare for I cannot allow the inscriptions to dry while I wait for you to shift your clothing. I will turn away and allow Lady Sif to assist you. If you lie face down on the fresh sheet, she will cover you with the other and this way I can quickly cover and uncover those parts of your body upon which I must write."

Eilif was hesitant, but nodded. Sif stared at Loki for several seconds before smiling.

You mad little fox, she thought.

Loki turned away and lowered his gaze demurely as Sif helped Eilif remove her gown and set it aside where it would not be crumpled or covered in oil.

"Sif, please use the flannel and water to wash Lady Eilif's back, arms, and legs," Loki instructed without looking up. These sites must be purified."

Sif did as she was instructed, and then covered Eilif with the second sheet. She tapped Loki on the shoulder to tell him she was done.

Loki busied himself with mixing oil and herbs, prattling on to Eilif of the magical properties of each and how the blend would distill the courage of the person to whom it was applied. He then asked if she was ready and, receiving her consent, peeled back the sheet to reveal her back, keeping her lower body covered.

"In this way we draw the courage from your spine, to strengthen your back and allow you to carry the weight of your beliefs," he said, drawing sigils and runes on her skin with quick efficiency.

Once he was done, he folded the sheet back up and asked that she lift first one arm, and then the other.

"In this way we draw the courage from your arms to allow you to lift the burdens put before you," he said, sketching runes in mirror images upon them. He covered her arms and drew the sheet back to her thighs to repeat the process on the back of her legs.

"In this way we draw the courage from your legs that you might stand firmly," he said and drew the sheet back down. He then bid her turn her face to him and drew runes upon her forehead and lips.

"In this way we draw the courage from your mind that you might always speak your convictions," he said and put the bowl aside. "I suggest you lie still a while and let the oil and the power of the herbs be completely absorbed. When you feel you are ready, signal to Sif and she will help you dress. I will…go and fetch something that will be of use to you."

He left the room and took the long route down to the wine cellars where he drew out a particular bottle and then returned. He knocked on the door and waited for Sif to admit him. When he stepped inside, Eilif was fully dressed and more radiant than before.

"A final gift," he said, presenting the bottle to her.

"Is it a love potion?" she asked, only half-teasingly.

Loki considered telling her it was, and then thought better of it.

"No, no," he said. "Would you truly want an alliance based on such a sham? The moment it is discovered all you worked for will lie in pieces. It is merely wine of an unusual vintage, flavoured with exotic spices that can only be found on Midgard. Few outside the royal family have tasted it and if you serve it to the young man of your choice and his father, they will be suitably impressed. That and a little wine never hurts to ease the conversation."

"Thank you," Eilif said, kissing him lightly on the cheek as she took the bottle. "Yours was the last kindness I expected this night. Normally, I am besieged by suitors hoping for an edge or simply a roll in the furs. One in particular, a blond man…Fandir?"

"Fandral?" Loki suggested and Eilif smiled.

"Yes, Fandral. He was nice enough, but very persistent. I was simply not in the mood for it, but you have lightened my spirits."

"It was my pleasure," Loki told her, "but don't be too hard on Fandral. He is cursed, after all."

Eilif looked surprised and Sif, standing behind her, even more so.

"Oh, yes, terribly cursed," Loki said, adopting a grave tone of voice. "He stole from a witch in the wilds of the outer realm and she cursed him with a terrible need to absorb the life essence of beautiful women. They do not die, but it drains them terribly. His persistence is really a sort of desperation, but you needn't feel badly about it. There are many others willing to fill this need. Some even enjoy it."

"Is that so?" Eilif said. She did not seem to know whether she should believe him or be suspicious. Behind her, Sif clamped a hand to her mouth to keep from laughing out loud.

"It is. Not many know, but the curse is made manifest in a tail," Loki said, gesturing expansively as he did during his contest with Volstagg. Entranced by the telling, Eilif did not even think to consider his actual words. "It is a thing of malice, made back to front, and practically having a mind of its own. In truth, he does the deeds by its direction and it is the focus for the curse's malicious power. When he is alone with his quarry, it takes over and drains them until they can do nothing but sleep."

Sif was biting her thumb now, her shoulders shaking. Eilif's expression crept toward the incredulous. Loki decided it was time to end his tale.

"I am trying to break it, but it is difficult and speaking of the spell only strengthens it. I would not say anything, but if he has been bothering you, you deserve to know. Please keep it to yourself and simply avoid him. It is all to the best" he finished solemnly.

"I…thank you for your warning as well as your gift," Eilif said, smiling oddly. "This has been a most unusual evening."

"And enjoyable, I hope," Loki replied, holding the door open for her. "I wish you luck with your suitor."

When she was gone, Sif burst into laugher so intense that tears rolled down her face.

"That was terrible. You are terrible," she choked.

Loki was about to reply when there came a perfunctory knock at the door. The Warriors Three burst in, followed by Thor. Sif took one look at Fandral and burst into fresh gales of laugher.

"We just saw Eilif leaving your chamber," Fandral said, casting a curious look at Sif. "Explain yourself!"

Loki did so, recounting his every moment with Eilif, but leaving out his tale at the end. Sif corroborated his story while trying very hard not to look at any of them.

"That…isn't what is usually meant by bringing a woman naked to one's bed," Fandral said skeptically.

"Ah, well… In that case, you should have specified," Loki replied. "Reinterpretation is as much a trick as hidden sacks and poisoned thorns."

"Well, I declare him the winner," Sif said.

"Taken at face value, he is," Vosltagg said and Hogun and Thor agreed. "Although I must wonder how she will feel when she discovers the lie."

"What lie?" Loki said. "I drew pretty pictures on her back and told her they might give her courage. She left feeling confident in herself and so will be courageous. And now I wish for my victory rounds. I was sadly left without the last time."

Fandral sighed. "I guess I will allow it. It was a clever interpretation and likely the only way to convince Eilif. I still take pride in numbers over trickery."

"Yes, well… We all have our curses to bear," Loki said and ignored Sif as she burst into laugher once again.

Chapter Text

What more can be said of the Lady Sif? Dear listeners, if you do not know about the Lady Sif and her rise through the ranks of warriors to become one of the fiercest fighters in Asgard, then there is no help for you.

It is not unusual for Aesir women to learn to fight, but most put away their shields and swords when they reach adulthood and prepare for a life in the home or the halls of healing. Not so for Sif. She still carries her weapon into battle, fighting alongside Thor, Asgard's ardent defender.

But Sif is a figure of two realms for though she is a great warrior, she is also a noble lady, and able to walk the fine line between them with ease. Although she often attends banquets in armour as is permitted of a warrior, family obligations and sentiments will often place her in a dress and impose upon her the niceties of a lady's upbringing.

Thus it was that Sif suggested Loki best her as a woman. Not with glamour and shifting form, but as a man dressed like a woman with a woman's demeanour and grace. Should he succeed in catching the eye of a man – the admission of attraction was enough, it need not go any further – the contest was his. It was not a matter of competition, she insisted, but seeing what he would dream up by way of trickery without the use of seidr.

Catching Loki alone, she pointed out that it would also allow him to perhaps drive home the serious implications of Thor's wager, if he were willing to take that chance. It was risky, she said, for although he had much to gain, there was also much to lose.

A diplomatic banquet was a fortnight in coming, welcoming visitors from every corner of the Nine Realms: a perfect opportunity to dissemble. Thus, with Sif's permission, Loki was allowed two weeks to prepare and decide…

 

 

 

"What do you suppose he will wear?" Fandral said.

Fandral, Hogun, and Volstagg were seated in a corner of the banquet hall, positioned to view the entire room so as not to miss the arrival of Loki and Sif. Thor joined them now and again, but was forced to circulate himself. Loki's absence might go unremarked, but, as the first-born son of Odin, Thor's diplomatic duties were greater. At this moment he stood by the table drinking ale, but ready to leave at a moment's notice.

"The robes were quite fitting," Volstagg said, "although I suppose for something such as this, more is needed. At least it is easy to spot Sif."

"Indeed," Fandral agreed. "She is stunning in her armour or out of it. By which I meant out of her armour and into a gown," he corrected when Thor offered him a questioning glance.

Sif crossed the hall with elegance and poise. Her gown was red with earthen accents that called to mind leather belts and trappings without the crudeness of the battlefield. Her hair crowned her head with a few trailing tendrils tickling the back of her neck. Spotting them, she smiled and joined them.

"Well met, my lady," Fandral said, rising to greet her. "You look lovely this evening."

"I hate wearing a gown," Sif said, "but it would hardly be fair if I didn't. Give me a sip of your ale," she added, sitting elegantly across from them. "It would be unseemly for me to carry a flagon, but I have no taste for wine just yet."

"So where is Loki?" Thor asked her, passing over his mug.

"I know no more than you do," Sif said, taking a drink. "If we knew, it would kill the suspense. Wouldn't you rather guess?"

"I suppose," Fandral said. "Although I don't typically spend my time looking at women to find the one that isn't."

"You should start," Sif suggested. "It might save you from a nasty surprise one day."

"You mock my favourite pastime," Fandral said sadly. "Let us see what we can spot then, agreed?"

The crowd was great and varied. Every guest was an envoy or leader of some faction or another from all across the Nine Realms. The banquet was held as a diversion for them, their families, and their entourages and so the hall was not only filled with participants of differing race and form, but also of differing rank and position. A group of women, identical in flowing robes and heavy veils, drifted past in perfect unison and Fandral grinned.

"Now, that would be a worthy disguise," he said. "A few illusions and you are not one woman, but many."

"Magic is not allowed during the contest," Hogun reminded him.

"Ah, but Thor proposed that previously made constructs be admitted," Fandral said. "Is it possible to make an illusion and put it by for a rainy day?"

"The idea has merit," Sif said, "but I can personally attest that it is not so. Those women are warriors of an obscure cult that do not allow any man to see their form unless it is on the field of battle. I was introduced to them earlier due to my skill with a sword. As a woman, I was privileged to see their faces. None of them are Loki."

"Well, I made the attempt at least," Fandral said. "I dare another of you to do the same."

A serving woman came to clear the table and another to bring them fresh drinks. They were draped in deep green with bodices and accents of faux gold. One was blonde, tall and sturdy, her hair piled top her head, her skin as pale as milk. The other was darker than expected, petite and graceful, her brown hair braided and coiled about her crown. Fandral found the contrast lovely.

"Even the help is well dressed tonight," he remarked. "It is though they were created simply to charm us."

"It is possible," Thor admitted. "Father sometimes goes to great lengths to impress Asgard's wealth and splendour upon foreign delegates. Speaking of which, I must return to greeting the guests."

"A wearisome job," Volstagg said. "I do not envy you."

"Yes," Fandral agreed. "A wearisome task to speak to all these lovely foreign ladies…"

"You would be a poor diplomat," Hogun said, "and apt to send us to war with their fathers and husbands."

"That is why I'm here with you," Fandral said. "But I do like to try and get a rise out of Sif."

"You are wasting your breath," Sif said. "I am not at all bothered by Thor's flirtations."

"Not at all?"

"Would it matter if I were? Thor is prince of the realm. He must appear unattached…must be unattached for political purposes." Sif picked up Thor's abandoned mug and examined its contents before drinking the dregs. "Such is the burden of nobility and rank."

"Never have I been more glad to avoid that responsibility," Frandral said. "So who next then? No one with obvious cleavage, I'd wager."

"Well, you needn't be so crude," Sif said, but she was smiling. She signaled to the blonde serving woman who brought her a cup of wine.

"Something with antlers, perhaps?" Hogun volunteered, watching a doe goddess as she passed. "A sly allusion to his ceremonial helm would not be outside of Loki's nature."

"No, it would not," Sif agreed, "but I somehow doubt he could create animal traits on such short notice if glamour is not permitted."

"What of his hair?" Volstagg mused. "It is too dark to dye, although he could cover it."

"Wigs are allowed," Sif confirmed. "As are paints for the face and body," she added as Fandral tracked the movements of a heavily tattooed woman.

He looked away from her quickly and Sif smiled.

"There is no harm in looking," she said. "If he cannot draw attention, then he has failed the test."

"But to have my hopes so suddenly crushed would be more than I could bear," Fandral sighed. "You are turning my hobbies into dangerous games indeed."

"Cheer up, Fandral. An element of risk ads flavour to the game," Volstagg said.

"So says the man whose greatest risk is an undercooked piece of meat."

As if on cue, the serving women appeared with all manner of foods to set before them on the tables. The dusky one put forth bowls of roasted root vegetables and platters of cheeses and breads while the blonde put down trays of meat and fish, setting the largest haunch nearest to Volstagg, suitably impressing him.

"This one knows what I like," Volstagg said as she stepped away.

"One needs only to look at you to know what you like," Fandral said. "It isn't even much of a guess. What say you, Hogun?"

When he received no reply, Fandral turned to find Hogun whispering in the ear of the dark-haired serving girl as she refilled his cup. She smiled and whispered something in return before resuming her duties.

"I'm all for playing games with the help, Hogun," Frandral said, "but please refrain until after the meal or Volstagg will be cranky."

"We still have another girl," Volstagg assured him, "and she looks as though she can carry more. As long as Hogun keeps to this one, I think I can manage."

"Well, I hope Loki shows his hand soon. Otherwise we could be here all night," Fandral sighed.

Indeed, the game lasted well into the night with time enough for Sif to slip away and play the lady on her family's behalf, for Thor to come and go twice more before settling in for the evening, for Hogun to tease the serving girl a little more, and for Fandral to slip away for a discrete session with an elven girl, who, he could attest, was certainly not Loki. Volstagg remained with the food, as was his wont, and watched them all with increasing amusement.

Most of the guests had left by the time the group grew bored enough to ponder quitting for the evening. They pored over the dregs of their drinks and picked absently at the remains of the meal and debated hotly whether Loki had shown up at all and, if so, where he could have possibly gone.

"He'd have to prove to us that he had done it," Fandral reasoned. "Surely he would come by the table."

"You don't suppose he actually fetched up with another man, do you?" Volstagg said.

"So what if he did? He would still need to come by and prove it," Fandral insisted.

"I admit I am disappointed," Thor said. "This seemed like an easy enough challenge for someone like him. Sif did not have many requirements."

"I hope nothing has happened," Sif said. She could not bring herself to tell Thor about Loki's feelings except in the most indirect of ways. She worried that his bid for attention would drive him to do something foolhardy.

"What could happen?" Thor said, ignorant of the dangers that could befall a woman, although Loki was certainly capable of taking care of himself. "Declare the contest done, Sif. I would rather warm a bed than this bench."

"Then warm it," she told him. "It is my contest and I will remain until the last guest has left or Loki presents himself."

"You would leave me lonely?" Thor said. "A bed warms much better with two…"

"Well, you have your pick," Sif said, gesturing to the serving women around them. They could not leave until their tasks were complete, but that did not stop noblemen from waiting on them. "You are the son of Odin. Any woman here would be happy to bed you in the hopes of favours returned."

"You make it sound so tawdry," Thor said. He hooked an arm around the waist of the blonde servant and drew her down upon his lap. She looked away demurely.

"It is. They are not permitted to look you in the eye or speak unless spoken to and they must do everything they're told simply because your rank is greater," Sif said.

She knew that Thor did not typically engage in that sort of activity, was mostly doing it only to spite her, but it did not change how she felt. Even now the blonde woman refused to raise her eyes to meet his, but she did lift them to Sif and wink.

She had the most startling green eyes.

"At least Hogun seems genuinely interested," Sif continued before Thor had a chance to speak, gesturing to where Hogun alternated between waiting patiently for the woman to finish her work and catching her gaze to draw her in and whisper in her ear. "You are merely toying because I am unwilling to leave."

"Do you really think so?" Thor said.

"I am certain. She is not your type at all."

"You do not think I would like hair of burnished gold?"

"Hair isn't everything."

"She is as tall and steady as you are, Sif. Taller, perhaps."

"So you think she is beautiful?" Sif said, feigning anger.

"Yes," Thor said, somewhat disgruntled.

"You would even say she is desirable?"

"Of course."

Sif snorted and gestured airily. "Well, it is all the same to me if you like her, but do be less of a beast and give her your direct attention instead of playing games with me. It's rude."

Thor cupped the woman's breast and Sif knew he intended to turn her and kiss her, but he got no further. Instead he paused, confused, as the breast did not feel like any with which he was familiar, and only then did he look directly into the woman's face.

"Hello, Thor," Loki said.

Thor grunted in surprise and jumped back in his seat, letting his brother fall to the floor.

"Ow," Loki exclaimed, laughing as he sat up. He began to peel off the wig he had secured with flour paste. "And here I thought you liked me."

The other warriors, speechless with surprise, now began to laugh as well. Hogun did so quietly, shoulders shaking with mirth while the woman beside him cupped her hands to her mouth so that she would not appear disrespectful. Fandral and Volstagg did not bother with restrictions, but roared long and loud. Even Sif grinned broadly.

Thor was not amused.

"How did you manage the curves?" Fandral demanded, miming a woman's form with his hands as Loki disrobed.

His chest, it turned out, was disguised by two small bags of grain, strapped down and given shape by the bodice. The hips were merely layers of padding over a pair of light leather trousers. The folds of draped fabric hid any inaccuracy. His hands had always been slim and carrying large platters helped to hide the callouses and rough edges that might have otherwise given him away. The rest was paint and make-up, which Loki rubbed off with the edge of his serving robe soaked in water.

"I watched the help at the inn for days to learn how to serve," Loki said. "Mother taught me how to walk, although I still don't think I've got it right. Fortunately, the wrap disguised it."

"I have now seen everything," Fandral said. "I cannot doubt the usefulness of trickery after this."

"Although I still question the honour of it," Volstagg said.

"You question the honour of anything that isn't served at the table," Loki returned mildly. "You will forgive me if I do not take your displeasure to heart."

"And thus I declare Loki the winner," Sif said to the raucous agreement of the Warriors Three.

"Perhaps," Thor said, "but I find it disgusting behaviour."

"Oh, I am disgusting now," Loki said pleasantly, although his good humour was quickly fading. "Why is that? Is it because I allowed you to look foolish instead of embarrassing a different guest?"

Thor scowled, but Sif put a hand on his arm.

"Don't be angry with Loki," she said. "It was mostly my idea."

"Yours?" Thor said, incredulous.

"I told him that I would rebuff you and that he should dress in something that might appeal to you and make himself available to you," Sif explained. "I thought this contest vulgar from the start and wanted you to have a taste of what you were offering. You were proud enough to boast of his skills when it pitched him against your friends or put people such as Eilif in an awkward position. Can you honestly say you would not have laughed if one of the delegates had found themselves with Loki on their lap?"

When Thor did not answer, Sif did so for him.

"I know you would have laughed. And yet that is the one thing that should not be done. These are honoured guests of your father and Loki was well aware of that. Besides, isn't it better to test a disguise against those mostly likely to see through it?"

"If it makes you feel any better, my first inclination was to go after Fandral," Loki admitted. "It would have been much easier."

"I do resent that, you know," Fandral said, but his disapproval was mild at best.

"Loki has bent over backwards to fulfill your terms without sacrificing the dignity of anyone outside of our group," Sif said. "Credit this much if nothing else."

"And what of his own? There is nothing dignified about cheap tricks," Thor said.

Thor was merely annoyed and needed time to cool off. This much they all knew, including Loki, but Loki had felt put-upon for some time and was not in the most accommodating of moods.

"Cheap tricks?" he snarled. "My tricks were good enough for you when it came to besting Hogun, Volstagg, and Fandral. You were so pleased to brag about my tricks when it was all about you. When it was your little brother putting on a performance. When you could wear my success like an achievement. Now that they have caused you a little bit of embarrassment, they're 'cheap'. You, who only fell for them because you sought to manipulate Sif when things didn't go your way…"

"Brother, you go too far," Thor warned.

"Why? Because you don't like what I say? Then I will go further," Loki snapped. "You are arrogant and self-absorbed and haven't a kind word for anything that does not benefit you or reinforce your view of the world."

"Loki…" Thor began, rising to confront his brother, but Loki merely scowled at him and stalked off toward the door.

"I am tired of all this," he announced. "If any of you want me, I will be in my chamber."

"Let it go, Thor," Fandral said, standing and placing a hand on Thor's shoulder. "You are both tired. It will be better to talk about this when we have all had some rest."

"No," Thor said, pushing him away. "We will end it now."

"Thor, please…" Sif began and then abandoned her efforts when she realized he was not listening. Begging the forgiveness of anyone who might hear her thoughts, she ran after him.

Chapter Text

Well now, faithful listeners, what do you suppose happens from here? Is Thor truly arrogant in his boasts? Is Loki too insecure of his place in his brother's esteem? Will they be able to mend their affections for one another?

These questions cannot be answered with a single tale. Never think it! But for our purposes one must consider the following: Loki is a creature of words and of mind while Thor is a creature of force and action. Their strengths are complementary, but their weaknesses incompatible for strength cannot mend a broken promise any more than platitudes can mend a broken bone.

Here is Loki, silver moon, blinded by his brother's shadow.

Here is Thor, golden sun, blinded by his own reflected light.

Neither is prepared…

 

 

 

"Loki!" Thor shouted, following his brother from the hall. "Loki, stop!"

"I am through with you tonight, Thor," Loki called back.

"I am not through with you!"

Loki waved his brother off, a thorough dismissal, but Thor grabbed his arm and turned him back around.

"Take it back," Thor said.

"What part?" Loki challenged.

"All of it."

"No."

"Then think me arrogant if it pleases you, but take back the part about my never having a kind word for those who disagree with me," Thor said. "I put up with you far more than I ought."

Loki paused and cocked an eyebrow at his brother.

"Did you just vaguely threaten me to take back what I said about how you treat people who disagree with you because you disagreed with it?"

"Will you?"

"I am through with you tonight, Thor," Loki said. He tried to wrench back his arm, but Thor held fast.

Sif and the Warriors Three stepped into the hallway just in time to witness Loki punch his brother in the face.

Loki was not as strong as Thor, but he was quick and precise and the punch hit hard enough to throw Thor off and surprise him into releasing Loki's arm.

Loki should have taken the opportunity to leave, leapt out of Thor's reach and simply run, but he froze for a moment, perhaps startled by his own audacity. It gave Thor the opportunity to grab his arm again. Loki was better prepared this time and twisted out of the way, responding with two punches in quick succession: one to the stomach and one to the chest. Thor blocked the first, but not the second, opting to grapple with his brother instead. However, Loki was quick and agile and slipped out of Thor's hold before he could be immobilized.

The fight was on.

Sif watched in horror as the brothers attacked one another. Loki did not hit as hard, but he hit more often, creating a cumulative effect that would leave Thor bruised come morning. Thor did not land as many punches, but those he did landed with devastating force. Although he tried to immobilize Loki in a hold as often as possible, Loki was too slippery to be pinned down and fists became the weapon of choice.

"Should we try to stop them?" Fandral whispered to Sif. He sounded as though he hoped the answer would be no.

In truth, Sif did not know. Thor fought because he was Thor and he was very physical. He felt he had been slighted and a fight broke out, so he would fight it and perhaps try not to hurt his brother. Loki, on the other hand, fought out of anger, frustration, and desperation that went beyond his brother's foolish wager. It was in his expression, screwed up in pain and fury. It was in his complete disregard for strategy, throwing punches where and when he could without plan or purpose. If he could not exorcise that bile, he would simply be putting off another outburst, one that might occur in a much more crowded venue. But Thor was becoming frustrated himself, unable to understand his brother's resentment. If his anger were allowed to boil over, the fight would escalate into something even more dangerous than the knock down and drag out brawl it had become.

"Stop! Both of you, stop!" Sif shouted a moment before she felt Thor's patience would snap. Thor paused, distracted by the sound of her voice, but Loki did not. He kicked Thor in the back of the knee and wrenched his arm backwards as he fell to the ground, putting him in a partial lock.

"Now you are hurting me, Loki," Thor said, his very voice a warning. "I do not want to hurt you in return."

"You are far too late for that," Loki replied, but he was tired and his grip loosened and Thor wasted no time in twisting out of the hold and throwing him aside.

Loki landed hard and then rolled up onto one knee, prepared for an attack, but he was weary now, bleeding from the nose as well as several cuts, and he slumped back instead, sitting on the stone floor. He was breathing heavily, taking some satisfaction in the fact that Thor, too, was short of breath, but it was not enough. He pinched his nose to stem the blood flow, winced at a sprain he did not remember getting, and simply sat, occasionally rubbing at his upper lip, leaving smears of blood across his cheek. He ignored Thor when Thor sat down to face him.

"What do you mean?" Thor demanded. "What have I done to hurt you?"

Loki looked to Volstagg, Hogun, and Fandral, who hovered in the doorway unsure of how to proceed, but radiating concern. He looked to Sif, who looked to Thor, and then to him, and then knelt cautiously beside them both. He had known the wager would not remain friendly for long, but it shocked him how badly he had misjudged its course.

"I am not a trophy, Thor," Loki said, "or a bauble to be shown off."

Thor looked at him quizzically and Loki took a great, shuddering breath. He had hoped the embarrassment of the last contest would help Thor understand his position, but it did not and now he would be forced to explain.

He was not sure that he could.

"Thor, who is the greatest swordsman in Asgard?" Loki said.

"Fandral," Thor replied without hesitation. "He is a great warrior, his skills with a blade renowned."

"And who is best with a mace?"

"Hogun. There is none better."

"And who is most immovable upon the battlefield?"

"Volstagg, of course," Thor said, grinning briefly in spite of his anger.

"And who has bested all three of them with suitable weapons? A sword against Fandral, a mace against Hogun, and a simple staff to force back Volstagg?"

The question startled Thor, who had to stop and think. He could not remember them falling before a single foe and it took a moment for him to realize that they could have been beaten by a friend.

"Sif has bested them all," he said.

"So why isn't Sif the greatest swordsman, the most skilled with a mace, or the most stalwart defender?"

"Sif is the greatest female warrior on the battlefield!" Thor declared.

"Unless you plan to call down the Valkyrie, Sif is likely the only female warrior in any given battle," Loki said bitterly. "The best of one? What distinction is that? Although, I suppose, uniqueness is its own reward. 'How is Loki like a woman?'" he jeered and Sif's breath caught in her throat. "He must best every one of his peers in battle to be considered 'adequate'."

"You were not meant to hear that," Thor said. "It was but a jest."

"I know it was a jest," Loki said, "that's why I was not angry before tonight. At least when Sif is adequate, she is Sif. I am only ever Thor's brother, to be boasted about when it suits Thor's pride and to be demeaned when he might prove an embarrassment. A piece of armour to be worn into battle: 'See Thor with his shield before him, his mighty hammer in hand, and his little brother to watch his back.'

"I do not want to be Thor's brother, who is sometimes useful and full of ideas, who can be put away if unneeded, and who, it so happens, is named Loki. I wish to be Loki, who is quick and clever, with glamour or without, and who, incidentally, is Thor's brother. If you are proud of my abilities, I want you to be proud of them all the time because they are mine, and not because they are convenient for you. To be proud of the method, even if you are unhappy with the results, because it is me and you love me for me, not because I…because I am an extension of yourself…"

Loki trailed off, looking stunned by his own words, and then he began to cry. Not with dramatic wails and hitched breath, but with simple tears that spilled from his eyes and ran down his cheeks unceasing. A great weight lodged itself in Sif's chest when she realized her suggestion had failed in the worst possible way. She had nudged Loki into fooling Thor in the hope that the embarrassment would make him understand what it was like to be put on the spot as he had done to his brother, but the lesson has passed him by so thoroughly that Loki was forced to explain the unexplainable and doom himself to want.

It was a gamble from the start, and Loki had lost everything.

She wanted to hold him, console him, tell him this was never her intention, and beg his forgiveness, but the next move belonged to Thor.

And as for Thor, all he knew was that the fight was over and his brother was hurt in some way he could not fully understand or appreciate. It went beyond need and desire, beyond anything his simple worldview could take into account, so he dealt with the immediate: his brother was crying and in pain.

He eased himself over to where Loki sat and knelt before him, cupped Loki's face in his hands and bid him look up.

"Of course I love you, brother," he said. "Of course I am proud of you. I…spoke in anger and lashed out using any excuse I could find. If it worried you so, why did you say nothing before now?"

Loki batted Thor's hands away and ground the heel of his palms into his eyes to stop the flow of tears.

"Why? Because some things lose their value when spoken," he said. "I wanted this one thing, but now I can never have it. No matter what you tell me, I will never be sure if you mean it or are saying it only to placate me. And worst of all is this: neither will you."

Loki clambered to his feet, pushing away all attempts to assist him.

"Go away, Thor," he said bitterly. "I don't want to speak to you now. I want to be alone. I want to go to sleep. I am very tired."

Fandral moved forward to intercept him and offer consolation with Hogun a step behind, but Loki pushed them aside as he passed them and trudged down the corridor, head bent, lost to his own thoughts.

Eventually, Sif nudged Thor.

"You should go after him," she said.

"Sif is right," Fandral agreed. "I don't think anyone else will do."

"He has made it clear what he thinks of my company," Thor said, his regret almost palpable. "He's right, you know. Knowing what he wants to hear, I will never be sure if what I say is wholly the truth or a white lie to keep the peace."

"Nothing is ever clear with Loki," Sif told him. "You of all people should know that. The only glaring truth he has given you is that there are some things he feels he cannot ask of you, lest they lose their value. So go to him. Don't speak. Convey with actions what you cannot convey with words. If he cannot believe the things you say, perhaps he can believe in the things that you do."

Thor thought on this a moment and then nodded.

"Thank you, Sif," he said, kissing her quickly and running after his brother.

They watched until he caught up, hooking one arm around Loki, who resisted and pulled away. However, Thor persisted and, by the time they reached the end of the corridor and turned the corner, Loki had given up the struggle and slumped against his brother, allowing Thor to carry a share of his weight.

"Well, that was frightening," Fandral said when they were safely out of hearing range. "I don't think I've ever seen Loki make that face and would rather never see it again."

"A pair like that will either drive the Nine Realms or destroy one another," Volstagg said.

"I don't know which worries me more," Fandral replied.

"I should take the former," Hogun volunteered, "but for now I have matters to attend to."

He nodded back toward the dining hall where the dusky serving girl was no doubt finished her duties.

"And I must get back to my wife," Volstagg said, "else she will wonder what's become of me."

"How terrible," Fandral said after they had departed. "Everyone has a woman but me. Even Hogun, and that's unusual. What do you think, Sif? Time enough for a drink with me? Nothing untoward unless you request it."

Sif smiled.

"I suppose I can manage that much," she said. "Do you think they'll be all right?"

"Hogun and Volstagg? Right as rain."

"Fandral…"

Fandral sighed.

"No, not for a while, but they will sort it out," he said. "They always sort it out. They're brothers, after all. You can't have one without the other."

"I suppose you're right," Sif said, and allowed Fandral to take her arm.