When they arrived in Asgard, the sun was only just beginning to creep toward the horizon.

That was another thing about portal travel, you never knew what time it would be in the realm you came to. It might be high noon in Vanaheim, and only just past daybreak when you stepped through to Asgard.

Luckily for Brokk, they came out yards from an open tunnel just outside of the walls of the palace – the tunnels used by the dwarfs when they came to visit Asgard on missions of state. Also luckily for him, he had Loki with him. Otherwise he might never have gotten through the gate.

Word travelled well-ahead of them – which did not surprise Loki in the slightest. Heimdall was likely to notice, and Loki knew that once he did, Heimdall would tell it to the AllFather. Odin would then call together the Council in Gladsheim.

He was not wrong.

They arrived at the hall of Gladsheim to find it already full. Odin was in his High Seat, and all the others had taken their places around him. The only one missing was Thor. But that was not an unusual thing. He was barely allowed in, much less allowed a seat yet, and matters of state bored him.

"Loki, what have you done?"

All was silent in the vast hall, "Last night," he grinned at the solemn surrounding faces, "in a fit of wickedness, I took a knife and cut off the golden hair of Sif." A gasp rippled around the edges of the hall. Loki waited. "The fit passed and, feeling remorse for my evil deed, I found a way to the Realm of Nidavellir, and I employed the help of the Sons of Ivaldi. With their great skill, they have crafted for me a head of hair of the purest gold. Once set upon her head, it will take root and grow and be just as her hair had been, but more golden and more beautiful than ever it was before."

Murmurs, then silence.

"What of the dwarf?"

Brokk stiffened indignantly and Loki tried not to laugh, "As I was returning from the city of the Sons of Ivaldi," he said, "I became lost in the tunnels. And as I wandered, I came upon Brokk. We got to talking, and I told him of the marvel I had. Brokk was scornful and made with me a wager, his head to mine, that his brother could make a better marvel than that in my possession. Leading me to their hall, I was instructed to wait, and I can only conclude that during the time of my waiting, they forged their answer to my bet."

"Is this true, Heimdall?"

Standing in the doorway behind them, Heimdall gave a deep nod, "It is."

The AllFather turned to the angry little man standing beside Loki, "What of your tale?"

"Just as the whelp tells you," Brokk said, "He made a bet that I would not refuse."

"Has your brother crafted a fitting challenge to my son's boast?"

Brokk looked smug, "He has."

"Show it to us."

Brokk brought out from the sack over his shoulder a small gold packet. In absolute silence, he ran his nail along certain patterns, then folded out little wings. He pressed something, then unfolded something else. This continued until it had grown to a size that was too large for his hands and he laid it on the ground, scurrying around it on the ground in order to unfold it. All was done with barely traceable speed.

When he was done, it was a ship all of gold. Brokk beamed at the AllFather, wiping sweat from his face. "Now that it's been done once, it can be done faster. The AllFather knows the way of it, does he not?"

Odin nodded, "He does."

"Such were the Dvallir ships in the old days. My brother has revived knowledge of them from the ancient texts. They can grow large – even this one might be made larger – but they may still be folded up into a packet the size of a man's hand. And once made small, my brother's enchantments so wrought it that it might be carried easily by even a child. It may sail by water, land, and sky. Such is my challenge."

The AllFather nodded again, then turned to Loki, "And what of your boast?"

"Sif will need to be summoned."

A murmur went around the hall. Gladsheim was not a place for women. Even the Queen was kept out while Things were being discussed. By custom, in matters of grave import, she would be consulted by the AllFather after the initial debate and decision would only be made after her counsel had been taken. In lesser decisions, the AllFather would decide for himself. Either way, women did not enter.

The AllFather found a guard, "Send for the girl."

Sif was brought.

She had cleaned up since last he saw her, but that had been hours ago. She looked more herself now, with her face washed and in her proper clothes. Her hair though…

Loki felt a stab of guilt that he quickly shoved aside. He'd brought something to make it up to her. Everything would be as it had been before.

It was hastily cut, jagged and uneven. Ripples of talk wavered through the hall.

Sif gave them no hold whatsoever.

Angry as he was with the voices, Loki was proud of her. But that was absurd so he pushed it out of his mind too.

Head high, she strode down the main hall and stood squarely before the High Seat, as if she and Odin were the only two living creatures in the room. Hand over breast she saluted the AllFather.

"You summoned me, my king?"

"My son has done you a grave injustice, has he not?"

"It is nothing, AllFather," she said easily, but without emotion, "time will heal it."

"I would not have it so," he beckoned Loki to come across the room, "My son will repay you for his crime,"

"AllFather, it's not –"

Then she caught sight of the hair that Loki held in his hands. He had come forward and let the cover fall away to reveal the perfect golden strands. They glittered most beautifully in the light of the sun that snuck in through the open window.

"I owe this to you, Sif," he said it quietly, so only she would hear him, "in just payment of my debts."

Her grey eyes met and searched his. Shocked and with something else Loki didn't quite recognize in them. He didn't know what to say to her, his heart beating giddily in his throat, so he looked away.

"Put it on your head. It will take root and grow just as your real hair would."

"Loki," she breathed, running her fingers down the gold. She didn't take it.

"Would you have me put it on for you?"

She shook her head, distractedly.

"It is for you, Sif."

Finally, carefully, she took it into her hands and raised it up to her head.

All was silent, as if Gladsheim itself held its breath to wait.

It began to glow, soft and golden at first, then brighter and brighter until one couldn't quite make out the details within the glow at all. Loki had to look away. His eyes were good in the dark. Thor might be able to peer into the sun, but Loki could not.

When the glow died and he could turn back, Sif was looking at the hair, draped over her shoulder. It was long and shimmering, seamlessly tumbling from the top of her head to her lower back, rippling and light like real hair, glittering like gold.

She was magnificent.

But it all lasted no more than a moment. No sooner had the hall let out its breath in a sigh of wonder at the beauty of her and all her shinning hair, then all began to fall to pieces.

The hair began to turn black.

Starting from the bottom, the plague crept up the gold. It seemed to move so slowly that watching it was like torture, but in reality, it was all over so fast that Loki had time only to suck in a breath before the change was complete.

Sif was the first one to find her voice, watching with horror, "Loki, what have you done?"

"I?" his hands were in his hair and he pulled them down where they could be of some use to him, "I don't know, this wasn't supposed –"

The hall erupted in sound, but finally the voice of the AllFather cut through and stilled it.

"What has happened?"

Loki opened his mouth to answer, though he wasn't at all sure what it was that he intended to say.

Brokk beat him, "I'll tell you what has happened. The smith-work failed. It wasn't strong enough to hold when placed alongside a pulse," he laughed, "There is nothing that the Sons of Ivaldi put their hands to that they cannot break,"

"You little scrap of a man –" Loki made a move toward him, but came to an abrupt halt as a woman's voice rang out through Gladsheim.

"Will you all please stop!" It was Sif.

Loki caught his breath.

Sif stood erect, probably the calmest person in the entire room, black hair loose and hanging down behind her. It was striking against the angles of her face, the color of her skin.

She was the most beautiful creature Loki had ever seen.

"AllFather," she turned from the crowd to the king, "I take it there is more you would have this counsel discuss. What is it that you would have me do?"

"Loki," he did not turn from her, "Can you change this?"

Sif did not look at him, but kept her eyes focused on the king. "No, I don't –" he shook his head, sudden shame burning him. He looked away. "I don't know how."

"It can't be done," Brokk put in, "Smith-work is not susceptible to your mage craft. No amount of whitchery will ever turn that girl's hair gold again."

Sif's breath caught and Loki wished a long and painful death on the dwarf.

"Go," said the AllFather, "find the queen and tell her what has happened, see if the strength of her art surpasses that of my son."

Stiffly, she bowed, then turned on her heel and was gone, the great doors swinging closed behind her. As she went, she threw a glance over her shoulder at Loki. Her eyes were cold and hard as steel.

She hated him. She blamed him for what had happened, and she hated him.

And he deserved it.

Brokk began to laugh, "They could never have managed that, not even at their height!"

Loki barely heard him. His hands closed into fists at his sides. He wasn't sure what he was going to do to that awful little tunnel rat. But he was sure he'd find something.

The AllFather cut him off, "The hair was defective. By merit of its defect, you, Brokk, have won the wager."

Of course he had. Brokk laughed again.

Loki knew there was no arguing with his father's decision. He bit off the words, "I will fetch you your gold."

"Oh no," Brokk said, "I won't be taking gold this time, my bonny boy,"

Loki's hot blood ran icy cold.

"What?"

"I said," the dwarf repeated, "I won't be taking gold." He raised his voice, turning to the wide hall, "This whelp has bet his head, and by all that's holy, I'm going to have it."

The hall was a roar.

"AllFather," it was Frey, wild and slight, new to the gathering, only just come from Vanaheim. He didn't yet know how these things generally played out, "AllFather, you are not going to allow the dwarf to take the life of your son,"

"My son has made a wager. By law, his head belongs now to the dwarf."

His head. Loki's eyes flicked to his father. Odin was looking at him, face perfectly expressionless, but Loki knew that he'd given him the way out.

Brokk came up behind him, forced him to his knees. Loki raised a hand, catching hold of his arm, "My head only!"

The dwarf stopped, "What?"

"My head only," Loki repeated, heartbeat loud in his ears, "By law, you have my head. But by that same law, you may have no part of my neck."

Someone in the hall gave a spurt of laughter.

Brokk's face contorted. He released Loki, throwing the axe he carried to the ground where it hit with a tinny clang.

Loki picked himself up from the floor. His legs were not altogether steady.

The dwarf turned sharply back. He addressed the AllFather, rage, alarmingly, gone, "By law his head is mine, yes?"

"It is."

"To do with as I will? So long as I touch no part of his pretty neck?"

There was an agonizingly long pause, then, "It is true."

Brokk gave a sickening smile, then, all of a sudden, came at Loki and threw himself at his chest. Loki felt his back hit the ground. There was a flash of metal and Loki saw the little knife suddenly in Brokk's hand come toward his face. He turned his head and the knife came down on his cheek. It slid off.

Frigga's spell held.

Loki laughed.

The dwarf tried another jab with the same result before a guard had pulled him off and Loki had scrambled back up to his feet. Giddy, Loki wiped a hand across his mouth, inspecting it for blood, but no, the knife had not cut. It would take a weapon imbued with strong magic to pierce his skin.

He didn't hear what his father had said, but began to listen as Brokk made answer, "If I cannot silence him for good, I will silence him for a time. I intend to sew his mouth shut. That will silence him. My brother's awl will do where my knife will not. I know the way of your witch-work. I will have my price! Is it not my right?"

A long pause.

"It is."

"Catch me then!" and Loki was off. He could beat everyone he raced. Even Thor. There was no way Brokk, with all his stumpy legs, would be able to keep up with him.

And once free of the hall, Loki knew the forest better than any. What was to prevent him from hiding there until the time of the wager had run out? At sunset Brokk would be forced to relinquish his claim and Loki would be free to return home.

He had neglected to count on Thor.

The great doors of Galdsheim opened and there he was. He was late, but he had come.

"Grab him! Grab him!" Brokk screeched.

Thor's face was dark. He caught Loki by the shoulder.

"Thor, let me go,"

But there was no placating Thor. Not when his face was like that.

~.~

Thor half pushed, half dragged Loki back to the front of the hall. Whatever it was he had been running from, Loki deserved it. It was high time he paid the just price for one of his pranks.

He nearly dropped Loki onto the ground before the dwarf.

Brokk was delighted.

"Now help me hold him still,"

The dwarf was already sitting on him.

"It won't work," Loki spat at him, "You know that,"

"No I don't," the dwarf plucked an awl from his pocket, "and neither do you."