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TVA Court Circuit, Time Theater 25

The screen on the wall glowed faintly as the system idled. Loki peeked at the label on the envelope.

"Now this one," Mobius began, "was when I thought you and your brother really worked well together." He carefully loaded the mini-reel into the player as he spoke. "And one of my favorites from the myths. But as good as the story is, I really need to see what actually happened."

"Bit more action than a frog flinging a hammer this time," Loki planted his chin in his palm.

"Eh, sounds like he had it coming --- and this guy actually thought that he was going to take the most powerful weapon around, ransom it, and get a wife out of the deal? He really thought that would work?" Mobius laughed and opened another soda.

"It might have," Loki said. "Had they stolen from a lesser kingdom."

"Awww." Mobius shook his head. "Where's the romance in that?"

"There is no romance in marriage arrangements," Loki deadpanned. "It's nothing more than a practical, formalized transaction between families, or governments, or both. To think otherwise is willfully childish."

Mobius blinked at him.

Loki stared back.

"Who hurt you?" Mobius asked.

Loki looked at him flatly and impassively threw a hand in the direction of the cart, raising an eyebrow.

"Point taken," Mobius noted under his breath. He set his soda down and hovered his hand over the player.

"Shall we, then?"

Residential Rooms, Palace Upper Floors
Asgard, 1086 CE

Thor sat miserably in a chair in their mother's boudoir, stuffed into a large, extremely showy gown which was driving him mad with itchy frills.

Behind him, Loki had pulled his tunic off and stood topless, fussing with another garment as they spoke.

"Still don't understand why it must be me to go," Thor griped.

"Well," Loki debated, "Wasn't it you who allowed it to be stolen in the first place?"

Thor turned in his chair, hindered severely by the cumbersome dress. "I did no such thing! We don't even know how it happened!"

"Alright, alright," Loki soothed. Thor turned back around and seethed at the wall. Loki paused to study the vision of his mountain of a brother planted uncomfortably in such a ridiculously plush chair, his arms crossed, massive legs peeking out from beneath layers of delicate finery. This would be quite the spectacle indeed.

Loki thought about how he'd had quite enough of the brow-beating between men for days over this particular state of affairs. Thrymr had not been entirely happy to see him, his return to Freya with the bad news was even less well received, and his ears were still ringing from her wrath. After ushering them both out of Freya's chambers, Frigga advised them to wait it out while she talked her into a more amenable state.

He ducked into the dress in his hands and wiggled it down, past lithe shoulders and hips.

When her face emerged from the neckline, it was with a sigh of relief. This was much better. She liberated her raven black hair from beneath her collar; it lengthened magically at her touch, cascading down her shoulders as it dropped from her fingers. She worked it quickly into a tidy braid and wrapped her bodice around her waist.

Thor turned again, and did a double-take.

"What?" She paused, fingers pulling the laces taut like the strings of a harp.

"You … you've gotten rather quick at it, is all." Thor clarified.

Loki smiled, bemused. "Should I announce it first, next time?"

He chuckled and shifted back around in his seat. She smirked as she finished her lacing.

"Now," she leaned onto his shoulders and rested her chin upon his head.

"Your transformation will take a bit more work, I'm afraid." She couldn't help a small giggle.

"I'm glad that you are so amused by my situation," Thor steamed.

"Actually, most things about you amuse me." Loki bantered. "But this? This is especially funny." She combed either side of her brother's hair and smoothed it into several interlocking braids.

"Are we sure that we cannot simply appeal to Freya to reconsider?" he asked.

"Oh, I don't think so at all," Loki remarked. "This would be the second time that some outlander brute has tried to force her hand in marriage. And I shall remind you, it was me who took the thunderbolt for the house that time."

Thor snorted at this. "Right, I had forgotten. We were all very impressed."

"Why, thank you. That means the worlds to me," Loki sassed.

Thor sulked some more.

"You will certainly feel much better once you've choked the life out of that hideous, oversized blue ogre," Loki consoled.

"Stealing this kingdom's greatest weapon was an act of war," Thor fumed. "Why take it? Thrymr has no need for warfare with Asgard. Our lands are unsuitable for their needs regardless."

"Mjölnir is more than a mere weapon, Brother," Loki explained. "It is, most importantly, a deterrent. Thrymr is ruthless enough to leave us open to attack from all sides just to make his point. He knew that Freya would never go to him, and that we would never send her, unless we truly had no choice. He means to corner us into bartering our sovereignty in exchange for hers."

"I shall leave none of them alive, I swear on my grandfather's ---"

"That's the spirit!" chimed Loki.

"Such beautiful daughters I have." Frigga beamed at them from the doorway.

Thor gave a pained look. Loki laughed silently behind him.

In Frigga's hands was Brísingamen, an elegant, radiant neck piece made from the purest gold, charmed to make beautiful anyone who wore it. It was Freya's most prized possession, and she was letting it out of her sight only under intense (and loud) protest for the sake of avoiding a marriage to Thrymr. What Loki could do naturally, Brísingamen would do for Thor.

Loki sincerely hoped so, for Thor's sake.

The last of the flowers were set into place and they looked quite charming in a crown woven through Thor's golden locks. She wove ribbons through as well, to hold the customary wedding veil. It laid perfectly upon his face, flowing from the floral crown like a silken valance; an open, lace panel across the eyes let him see out. Frigga clasped Brísingamen around Thor's neck as Loki worked her hands through her own hair, brightening it to a dramatic red, her eyes lightening to a bright blue.

Loki and Frigga stood back and admired Thor's appearance together. He was an enchantment of golden hair, flowers, and ribbons; the veil was just long enough to obscure his braided beard while still letting the glimmering treasure upon his neck draw attention away from his angry eyes.

Loki reached forward and lifted one side of the veil open, peeking in at him. He was side-eyeing her sharply. She smirked and pulled the veil closer around their faces like a curtain.

"You shall be the most alluring bride in all the worlds," she whispered breezily.

"You're mocking me," Thor said through gritted teeth.

"Oh, I am not. I'm simply admiring my handiwork," she swore.

"You're laughing."

"Yes, but I am doing so while helping."

"No one will believe that I am Freya," Thor complained as they arrived in Jötunheim.

"The truth is not relevant," Loki advised. "Only that which is perceived."

"I am not you, Sister. I look ridiculous."

"If you are wearing Brísingamen, you cannot look ridiculous. Does Freya look ridiculous? Does Mother? Sif? You may feel ridiculous, but those are only your insecurities." She said archly. "Besides … I know many warriors who would find you alluring in that dress, even without Brísingamen."

The reception hall was a gaping eyesore within yet another gaping eyesore. They walked a short corridor and were delivered by their escort into the gaudiest room in all of the universe.

Thor twitched with irritation at the itchy fabric of the wedding gown.

He glanced over at Loki and watched as she absently ran her fingers through her hair. She was disguised in the standard gown of a noblewoman's formal attendant. Even when cloaked in the expected fashions of the lesser-ranked, Loki always held a regal demeanor. Thor never could get used to seeing her shift her form or use illusion magic on herself.

"Why red, this time?" he asked. Her hair shone like a garnet gemstone in the sunlight.

"Thrymr has already met me countless times, and has never particularly liked me. I don't exactly blend into a crowd, you know." Loki pointed out. "So today, I am your overhoffmesterinne, and I will be handling the details as such. Besides," she added with a crooked smile, "How often do I get to traipse about as someone else entirely? It'll be fun."

Fun. She had an odd idea of it.

They waited patiently just within the archway as their arrival was being announced. 

Thor turned to her, curious. "Why is it that you never change your hair or eyes when we are at home, among our own people?" 

After a thoughtful pause, she replied, "Because I should not need to."

Thor noted the subtle flicker of something in her countenance as she spoke. It vanished as quickly as it had come.

He decided to leave it be.

A moment later began fidgeting involuntarily.

"Would you stop that?" Loki admonished quietly. "You're going to rip something, and then everyone will see what a furry back you have."

Thor turned to her indignantly. "I do not have a furry back!"

Loki shrugged gracefully and patted him on the arm.

The Master of the house entered the hall.

"Ah! My Lady Freya!" Thrymr called from across the vast room. Loki could feel Thor's arms stiffening.

"Now, now," she whispered, "Let us not spoil the party before the gifts have been bestowed," she soothed. He grumbled in reply.

"That's a good little bride, Brother." She took his hand and waved it to the family as they began to assemble.

Thrymr began bellowing to his collective audience about the importance of the day, here in the seat of his wealth --- upon which he continued in the most uninteresting rodomontade. His lands, his horses, the many high-towered houses of prestige, the gold, and the wine, the greatest of beasts --- which Loki assumed included some of his wretched siblings who had been leering at them both since they'd arrived.

She had not once in her life witnessed Odin performing such tedious bragging. He simply put the wealth of the Asgardian throne plainly on display, everywhere, without so much as a word about it.

"And now," Thrymr paused dramatically, "I gain the most treasured jewel of all, without which my riches mean nothing! The beautiful Freya, to rule over it all by my side!"

He threw a hand in their direction, and the entire hall turned to gaze upon Thor.

He shifted uncomfortably in his ill-fitting getup and attempted an awkward curtsy.

Loki touched a hand to Thor's elbow and announced in formal address,

"My Lady Freya has been so eager for this day! Let us not delay in our celebration! Raise a horn, all of us, to her unmatched wisdom and charm! Skål!"

The hall erupted with salutations and merrymaking, and Loki handed off an enormous horn of ale to Thor (who certainly needed a drink). He begrudgingly toasted with her, and then downed the entire thing in a flash as Loki casually downed an entire goblet of wine beside him.

"There, now. In a few moments this will all feel that much more tolerable," she reassured her brother. Thor belched loudly beneath the dainty face covering and pressed it against his hidden beard to wipe it clean. Loki winced into her empty goblet, looking away as though she had not just seen him do so.

Cheerful music was rising from the periphery as Thrymr's bards kicked off the festivities. The jötnar servants were busy laying interwoven lengths of straw upon the benches, a sign of particular reverence for Lady Freya. Loki smiled wickedly at this and gleefully elbowed Thor.

"That would be your wedding throne, My Lady," she teased. Thor growled in annoyance. Several of the nearby Jötnar paused and turned to look at them. Loki glanced between them and her brother, then squared her shoulders and smiled sweetly.

"Continue clearing your lovely throat, Lady Freya." Loki said, loud enough for them to overhear. "You will need it later." She began fussing with the golden torc around his neck as he growled once more for good measure.

"Good old Brísingamen, amplifier of grace and beauty. How perfectly it suits you."

Loki could feel the rage boiling beneath Thor's ladylike façade.

"What?" she whispered. "You don't expect that we'll be leaving before indulging in such lavish amenities, do you?" Loki winked at him, nodding in the direction of the overflowing table.

Thor huffed furiously, wafting the delicate fabric away from his beard momentarily.

"I ought to have given you a thicker veil, to contain your breakfast breath." Loki cocked her head and beamed over at him.

Thrymr finally approached them, flanked by his equally contemptible siblings, and extended a hand to take Thor's for a proper introduction. In a split-second of forgetting himself, Thor extended his hand past Thrymr's to grasp wrists in a formal masculine greeting, then quickly dropped his fingers and laid his hand open to be taken gently instead. Loki found this amusing. Thor had no idea of what easy liberties he'd had as the warrior-son of a warrior-king; now he was seeing things from the other side of the table.

"My, what a grip!" exclaimed Thrymr. Thor grunted in acknowledgement.

"As fearsome as she is lovely, as I am sure you have heard," Loki interjected.

Loki leaned in and lowered her voice, eyeing Thrymr seriously, as though she would imminently deliver a secret of utmost importance. "May I have a brief word, my Lord?" Thrymr nodded and stepped aside with her.

"My Lady was a trifle bewildered by the … suddenness of all of this," Loki explained in a hushed tone. "She has such eagerness for your embrace that she's worked herself up into an inconsolable state. Please do not mention it, as she may indeed die of embarrassment. She may play at modesty, for the sake of protocol. However, if you are patient, you may indeed have the night of your life."

She winked at him and sashayed back to Thor's side, taking his arm protectively and nodding at Thrymr in confidence. He winked and nodded back to her.

"Well, now! Shall we feast? Come, my lovely bride." Thrymr took Thor's hand and patted it tenderly as he led the way. Thor bowed his veiled head at him and turned back to glare invisibly at Loki, who was trailing along right behind them, carrying the train of Thor's splendid gown as she swayed playfully to the music. As she moved, the length of her crimson locks billowed along her back like a waterfall of blood.

"Not long now," Loki sang to him as they filed into the crowd. They took to their seats of honor. Almost immediately, one of the brothers of Thrymr drew uncomfortably close to Loki and set an arm around her waist, inviting himself into the space directly beside her on the bench. He stank of ale and unwashed body.

"Have you come unattended to our lands, young miss?" he chortled into her ear. She turned to him with a lethal scowl, her crystalline blue eyes narrowing into daggers. He smiled dumbly at her, arrogantly confident in his nonexistent charm. This poor imbecile was unable to see murder when it was a mere hair's breadth from his unlovely face.

"Oh my, aren't you just the bravest thing in the room," she droned in reply, inching herself away as she drew a dagger from her underskirt beneath the cloth of the table. Immune to the hint, he tightened his arm around her bodice and pulled her in closer for a kiss.

She discreetly flicked the dagger against his throat, hissing "søvn" into his ear.

A subtle crackle of green static escaped her fingers, travelling up the blade and into his skull. She quickly withdrew the dagger and his arm fell away from her as he dropped forward, his face landing neatly in a dish of meat.

The parties across the table abruptly stopped talking and looked over at Loki and her erstwhile suitor. Loki placed a hand across her opulent bosom and feigned surprise.

"Evidently, the ale has already gotten the better of him. How embarrassing," she exclaimed.

There was some jeering laughter, and then the table resumed its rollicking cacophony. She glanced back over at him, snoring grotesquely, and grabbed a spare lap cloth from the centerpiece to drape over his homely face.

Her waist and hand felt ice cold where he had touched her. She shuddered and set the feeling aside.

Thor had eaten at least two beasts' worth of meat and downed two full casks of ale before Loki had even noticed the passage of any time. Loki wasn't the only one who'd taken notice, either. Thrymr was observing with astonishment, as was his family. Loki smiled reverently at them all and pointedly remarked that Lady Freya had suffered such nerves leading up to this day that she'd barely touched any sustenance at home. She punctuated this with a very concerned look in Thrymr's direction as she played lovingly with Thor's golden tresses.

"Don't fret it, my dear. Get your strength back. You're going to need it," Loki coaxed, mischievously. Thor glared at her through the cumbersome shroud as the men to his side quietly tittered amongst themselves at the suggestion.

"My strength? Back? Mind your words," Thor growled under his breath.

"Not long now, My Lady. Be patient, and enjoy the meal," Loki whispered.

"I am," Thor carped. "And what of you? You've barely eaten anything. No wonder you're so small --"

Loki glowered at him. She spun her empty fork around in her fingers, dangling it at him. "Where would you like this? I'll even let you choose this time."

An increasingly drunken Thrymr leaned in close to Thor, smiling fervidly into the netting of the veil. "Just a look, My Lady? Your eyes are said to be a legendary blue --"

Thor glared at him furiously, his eyes like the fires of Muspelheim. Thrymr leaned back, unsettled. Loki was quick to intervene.

"Surely you would understand how eight days of nervous anticipation can wreak such havoc upon a Lady's sleep," she said, "So much so, that I'm afraid she's understandably cross about her modesty this day." Loki laid a hand upon Thor's at the edge of the table.

"Oh! I know what will cheer you both. Let us commence with the presentation of gifts. The sanctification, if you will." She winked knowingly at Thrymr. His alarm rapidly faded to an impish delight.

"And what of the dowry?" asked a boorish Jötunn woman from across the table. Loki ticked her head and looked at her curiously. The woman stared shrewdly back at her. "Surely you didn't think we would forget."

Loki eyed her keenly, artlessly resting one of the sharp teeth of her fork upon her lower lip. Her sanguine hair framed her devious expression with intensity; the calculating coldness of her ice-blue eyes unsettled the woman across the table.

"Oh, sister!" Thrymr chided, boisterously slapping the table beside her. "Must you dampen the joy of everything? Tis my wedding day! Be friendly to our new family." He chuckled.

"Sister?" Loki smiled, locking eyes with her. "Have you a name, sister?"

"Not to you," she retorted.

Loki smirked devilishly.

At the edge of the room, Thrymr's man had returned carrying a large chest and set it upon a table along the wall. Thrymr rose and turned away to attend to it. Out of the corner of her eye Loki recognized the magical aura of Mjölnir. It was no decoy. They had brought the real thing right up to them.

Loki rose gracefully from her seat, lifting her goblet overhead with perfect ceremonial poise. The woman eyed her suspiciously.

"I propose a toast," Loki began loudly, pausing to gain the attention of the entire hall. Within her goblet, a charm was at work transforming the wine.

Loki continued: "To the union of hearts, of empires, and of blood." Others rose from their seats, drinks raised, and Thrymr turned to observe the table. Mjölnir was in hand, at his side.

"Blood?" the woman raised a brow.

Loki suppressed a snicker.

"Are you unfamiliar with the … eventualities of a marital union?"

Her goblet was still raised, its spell nearly ready. Thor and Loki recognized her posturing as one who was holding a blade beneath a table. Thor shifted in his seat. Loki laid a hand upon his shoulder to settle him.

It was at this moment that Thrymr returned cheerily to his seat, oblivious to the warfare brewing just paces away, clunking Mjölnir down with zeal. Thor's full attention was now on the weapon. Thrymr sat down and pushed the hammer slowly along the table, nodding crassly at his bride to make her lap available to him. Such sanctification required that the offering be given from the bride's lap, as their children would be.

He inched a hand below the table to run his fingers lightly across the skirt around Thor's leg, gazing libidinously at the full bust of the lovely dress.

The woman's eyes narrowed at them both.

"I am familiar with all eventualities. And who in Hel are you?" she demanded, glaring up at Loki like a coiled snake.

Loki grinned and cocked her head as she shifted fluidly from a red-haired maiden to her true, glorious self. Her pale blue eyes darkened to an emerald green and her bright crimson hair smoldered back into its natural murky black. The illusionary spell of her modest courtier's frock melted into a slim, green gown bearing a golden scallop across the bust, befitting of a princess or a sorceress or … one who was both.

Thrymr looked up from his flirting, utterly flustered, the shock overtaking his mead-soaked brain. The droves of intoxicated revelers also froze in sudden confusion.

Loki glared coolly down at her counterpart across the table.

"I am Loki of Asgard," she said smoothly, the goblet in her hand beginning to subtly steam. "And I believe you know of my brother, Thor."

Thrymr's eyes darted from Loki back to the figure beside him. Thor reached up and tore away his veil, revealing a face of murderous rage. Thrymr's scream never even escaped his throat as it was crushed by the pummeling force of Mjölnir.

Thrymr's sister roared as she sprung from her seat, drawing her sword. Loki hissed and whipped the goblet's contents in a heady spray, catching her directly across the eyes. Her sword clattered to the floor as she clutched her face, her screaming matched only by the clamor spreading down the dining hall.

Thor's maniacal grin was splattered with blood as he dropped the last of Thrymr's guards and turned his violence on the rest of the wedding party. He leapt onto the table and bounded down its length like it was a bridge to Hel, plowing down anyone near enough to him to catch a fist or a hammer.

Loki tossed the goblet aside, clapped her hands together and laughed morbidly, "Finally! Some worthy entertainment!"

The chaos itself was thrilling enough, but the added absurdity of watching Thor go berzerkir on a horde of Jötnar while wearing a such beautiful gown, with flowers still somewhat in his hair, and a priceless golden necklace around his throat? This was a once-in-a-millennium moment.

They never stood a chance, really.

As her brother terrorized the guests, Loki dipped in and out to catch the stragglers, throwing illusions of herself, of Thor, of their own dead king walking and any other horror she fancied, all around the halls until each guest was sent screaming right to her to receive their complimentary dagger to the throat. Loki returned to her nameless accoster as she screamed, clawing at her own eyes as the venom's hallucinogenic properties took their toll. What a foul wretch without so much as a name.

The halls were quite literally dead silent. The only sound was the two of them nonchalantly picking through the undisturbed portions of the banquet and whatever alcohol still looked appealing. They had taken up seating upon an intact section of table, a large platter of food between them.

Political massacre did have a way of drawing out one's appetite.

"Well, you are certainly the life and the death of the party, dear Brother," Loki snarked as she downed another bit of roast.

Thor chuckled at this as he raised his horn of mead in a toast. She raised her goblet but then withdrew it, glancing inside.

"Wait, wait, I'm out." She looked around a bit. "Ah, here we are." She tugged an ornate bottle of ceremonial wine from the hand of a corpse to her left and helped herself, then raised her glass again to toast her brother.

"What to?" she asked.

"To family," he smirked. They clanged their drinks together and drank heartily in the midst of the dead family of Thrymr.

A painful moaning rose from the other end of the room. They leaned forward together and got a glimpse of one of Thrymr's brothers sitting up wearily, pulling a napkin from his face amidst the carnage.

"Who is that?" puzzled Thor.

Loki cackled darkly. "That's the pig I taught a lesson to hours ago."

Thor stared at him. "Has he been like that the entire time? Did he sleep through it?" he asked in amazement.

They looked at one another for a moment, then burst out laughing.

Thor absently clawed at his chest, nearly tearing the bodice of the dress trying to scratch at himself beneath it.

"What is the matter?" Loki inquired.

"It itches like a swarm of insects!" Thor complained.

"Really?" Loki asked with exaggerated shock. "Please do tell me all about that!" She shifted her own bodice around her cleavage and stared at him for emphasis.

"Not the same," he muttered.

"But indeed it is," she countered, "You'll get used to it."

"Don't want to," he pouted into his mead horn.

"Well then take it off, if you must." She rolled her eyes over at him with a mild sympathy. "On one condition," she raised a hand at him gravely. "You will not make me walk back into Asgard with you trailing alongside me stark naked, like you did after that scene we caused on Vanaheim."

Thor snorted. "Oh, I think that would not be the strangest homecoming Heimdall has seen."

Loki raised an eyebrow in mock indignity. She smirked and wiggled a finger at his neck.

"Do you even know the story --- the real story --- behind how that piece was acquired?" she asked with a hint of gossip in her tone.

Thor looked at her with a pause. "What … do you … mean?" he asked.

She grinned into her goblet. 

Thor wondered if he should take the damned thing off.

As they stepped out of the Bifrost blast and into the observatory, Heimdall smiled and welcomed them home. Fandral and the others stood beside him at the ready. Thor roared triumphantly, proudly brandishing Mjölnir over his head as the remnants of his bridal garb clung desperately to his hips in a bloodied, silken loincloth. Loki silently prayed it would hold out at least until he was no longer swaggering directly ahead of her.

"You are both covered in blood," Heimdall pointed out.

"Yes, but thankfully none of it is theirs," Fandral cracked. Heimdall grunted in amusement.

"Hello, Heimy!" Loki sang from behind Thor, tossing him a fresh apple she'd pilfered from the dining hall. He caught it with a nod.

"Careful, good Heimdall," Fandral teased. "The Midgardians have quite a few cautionary tales about the hazards of accepting apples from strange women." Loki snorted at the reference as she cast Fandral a dallying glance.

"Oh, I nearly forgot." Loki parted her hands in a swiping motion, producing a rather large ceremonial bottle fashioned of beautiful colored glass, filigreed with gold, and inset with jewels. She handed it to Fandral, who whistled as he turned it over in his hand.

"It was the only one that survived all of the partying," she added fondly. "Seemed too pretty to leave behind. Reminded me of you."

Fandral smiled deviously and offered her his arm; they left Thor to celebrate his victory loudly with his other warriors as the two of them disappeared into a waiting skiff alongside the bridge.

"Can I just --" Mobius paused as he considered his words. "Compliment your finesse with that whole fiasco," he finished, carefully.

Loki grinned silently in his seat.

"Here's what I don't get," Mobius added, changing the subject. "Wasn't Thor the only one who could lift that thing? Like, by design?"

"Only after this particular skirmish." Loki smiled at the screen. "Father made quite a point of it, as well."

He could have sworn that Mobius might have been blushing.