Trials of the Trickster King


Disclaimer/AN: Don't own it. Wish like nothing else I could say I had something to do with the absolutely beautiful costumes in the movie though, oh my godddddddddddd sobeautifulimightdie but so yeah anyway people keep writing about Loki and Sigyn or Thor and Jane or Loki and some chick he meets when he does his own impression of Thor all over Midgard and I happen to find it very funny. And I've been reading comics like nobody's business recently and I've always loved the story of how Sif got black hair. And hey, Sif has black hair in the movie, so that means that this happened~ this is just my own personal (and hopefully humorous) version of it.

Story is best read on 3/4 or 1/2 width and possibly even a larger typeface.

Chapter 1


By the pale green light emitting from the small ball of magic in his hand, Loki could deftly maneuver his way through the house he found himself in. It was a careful spell, casting light only for the caster, and the young magical prodigy was a master of the craft. He froze when a floorboard creaked beneath his foot, but when he heard no stirrings inside the room he crept towards he continued on his way.

Loki Odinson, you see, had been wronged.

The Lady Sif, in her crass and ever-so-tactful ways, had managed to not only knock him out in a fight that he most certainly had not started but to also knock him into a fountain. A fountain which then deigned it time to break into several pieces and spray him with even more water. He'd only been saved from drowning because Volstagg had pulled him out by the foot and shaken him until he'd regained consciousness.

So yes, Loki had been wronged. And he was going to do something about it.

And yes, doing something about it involved creeping towards the bedchambers of the Lady Sif with a pair of scissors carefully hidden away on his person.

In twenty years of life nobody had ever accused Loki of not being petty.

Honestly though, the Lady Sif's golden hair was a thing to be marveled at. It was as soft as flax, as gold as the throne of Odin and the armor of her brother Heimdall and a beautiful length that reached well past her waist. Loki would be lying if he ever said that he wouldn't miss her hair- if only to tug on her braids when she least expected it. He lived for the exasperated looks and angry curses that his jibes and torments garnered.

But now, he thought as he opened the door to her bedchambers, at least she'll know the price for shaming me!

The room was dark to his eyes, even with the aid of the small ball of magic in his aloft hand. The curtains of the large windows were drawn tightly shut, most likely to keep out the brilliant starlight that lit all of Asgard with a muted blue brilliance that made everything shine in a way that the sun never could. A warm summer breeze fluttered those curtains for a moment, and the youngest son of Odin froze stiller than a statue as he waited for any sign of movement from the figure on the bed.

When none came, he tiptoed quickly and quietly across the room to the edge of the bed. It was a massive one, situated between the two windows on the wall, and covered in the pelts of many a hunted beast of Nornheim and Alfheim. But the massive pelts of demon bears and other such creatures weren't what Loki was after- no, he was after the two long golden braids that twisted across the tanned hides like twin blond snakes.

With a grin that some might call cruel, others feral, and yet others smug, Loki produced the scissors from somewhere upon his person and picked up the end of one of those long silken braids. The Lady Sif slumbered peacefully still on her stomach, her face buried into the pillows as her best friend's younger brother followed the braid to its source at a leather hair band at the base of her neck.

One decisive snip later, her golden hair fell limp around her ears on one side. In one hand, Loki held one of her long braids. He quickly bundled up the braid and hid it away on his person, perhaps to frame Fandral or Thor with at a later date, and reached for her other braid.

That was about when a fist shot out from beneath the pelts that adorned the bed and caught the God of Mischief somewhere between his solar plexus and his liver. He went flying several feet, landing hard on his backside and sliding a ways on the polished wooden floor. In the confusion his light was extinguished, throwing the room into utter unintelligible blackness. Dazed, Loki heard the pelts on the bed get thrown onto the floor as the Lady Sif got up to face her assailant once again. There was a noise, and for a moment Loki couldn't place it, but when a small sliver of light caught the edge of a rather horrifyingly large battleaxe he realized that it was the sound of an Asynja warrior maiden arming herself.

He opened his mouth to identify himself, to even attempt to placate the angry woman that happened to have a very large axe and was walking towards him, but then a bright light obscured his vision as the curtains were thrown open and the starlight exploded into the room.

Belatedly, Loki realized that the Lady Sif didn't keep a battleaxe next to her bed- not even his father or Thor did that.

Oh merciful Allfather, the God thought, I'm in theā€¦ the wrong-

"Buh?" he finished his thought rather intelligently. To be frank, though, his intelligence had completely deserted him in the face of his most certain death. His inhumanly beautiful, absolutely terrifying death.

In the starlight her skin shone blue and flawless, highlighting tight curves and trim lines of muscle like a celestial caress. Her face was that of an angel, so painfully beautiful that should she appear on Midgard there would be songs and artwork inspired into being for thousands of years. Even framed by mismatched and choppy hair on one side, her golden hair still complimented her beauty like it was supposed to be that way.

She also had a battleaxe.

And she was naked.

Loki honestly could not think except to stare. If he was going to die by the hand of an enraged naked Valkyrie, he was going to appreciate the view in the process.

Fortunately enough the woman let out a feral screech of a war cry as she leapt at him with her axe, and it snapped him out of his daze quickly enough that he could flicker from his place on the woman's floor and onto his own cold stone floor. The ambient light shocked his eyes for a moment, and he blinked several times to rid himself of the specks in his vision. A beat of silence passed, two, and the young God let out a wheezing breath that he didn't realize he had been holding. Boneless, he fell backwards onto the flagstones and blinked several times.

And then he began to laugh.


So please don't expect another chapter until after this weekend at least. I'm going to Fanime and it's a bit of a road trip, so I won't have much time to do writing things and such. Fortunately the term lets out almost directly afterward, so all I'm really gonna do before I start on a new costume is write and lounge about. This ought to get fast updates after that.

I'm honestly just writing this little ditty of a story for fun, I love the Thor comics/movie so much that I can't help it.

Reviews are love!