After a few days seeing the sights, and not picking up any more rocks of any kind, they made their way to the government office that they had been told handled all the divorces for the entire planet.

The office was a small building at the base of a mountain. The steep roof was covered in wild grasses and a small white goat sure-footedly grazed upon its peak. It bleated at them as they approached and passed through the front doors. Despite its outside appearance, the inside was similar to the service office on Xandar and they were again scanned by a floating robot at the door.

Approaching the counter, Loki tried to ask the man behind it if they were in the right place, "Hello, I've been told this is…"

The man smiled and pointed at a ticker dispenser off to the side, "Just take a ticket, I'll be with you in a moment."

The suggestion triggered Loki immediately and he took a few deep breaths to steady himself. He glowered threateningly at the man who was standing there, not seeming to have anything else to do.

" Just so we're clear — if I don't 'take a ticket', I'm not going to be disintegrated, enslaved, or sent to a hellish void at the end of time, correct?"

"Ah, no, of course not, it just makes things more efficient," the man explained.

"We're the only ones here," Loki complained.

The man frowned, "If you feel that strongly about it, I suppose we can forgo the ticket taking," he looked sadly over to the basket of used tickets, "it's just that my count will be off for the day." He sighed, "My supervisor always gets into a snit when the count is off. "

Sylvie marched over to the ticket dispenser, plucked out a ticket with two fingers, strolled back over to the counter and tossed it into the basket, "Seems we're next."

She smiled pleasantly but there was a slight edge in her voice that told him she meant business. The large sword hanging from her belt told him that too.

"So you are, and thank you," he placed a hand to his chest and bowed. "Now, what can your humble servant b'st-Irigul'Falicg'kl help you with?"

Loki paused for a minute, trying to figure out how to work his tongue to pronounce the poor fellow's name, before settling on his best pronunciation and giving it a go, "Well…ah… Mister…"

"You can just call me Bif, everyone else does," the man said bitterly. "Even my own grandmother."

"Ok, Bif, I need to apply for a divorce," Loki said, ignoring the man's sulking.

Bif's mood perked up a bit, "You've come to the right place, I'm here to walk you through the whole process. I'll just look up the specific nuptial association you joined," he scrolled through the information on his display until he found it, "Ah, small world, there was a Kree fellow in here a couple days ago from the same group, anyway let's get you started."

Loki was pleased to hear this. Gom had apparently wasted no time in getting here, and it meant one less spouse to deal with, "Great, so what do I have to do?"

"Those seeking to exit a marriage just have to complete one of four available options. I'll go over each one in detail as needed." He typed quickly on the keyboard in front of him, "By far, the easiest and most popular is simply to return the joining stone. Now retrieving it from those large towers may seem daunting, but the attendants will be able to find it for you without any difficulty."

"Well that's a relief , easy come easy go," Loki smiled and gave Sylvie a nudge

"Now, if your marriage has occurred more than two solar years ago, the stone would have been placed on a rocket and blasted into the centre of the sun — not to worry — it will easily withstand the pressure and heat so if you have some means of retrieving it, it's still probably a good option."

Loki shook his head, "Frost giants and solar diving don't really mix, I think I'll pass."

Sylvie gave Bif a threatening look, but internally was very amused by the whole thing, "We'll just see what's next, shall we? And please say it's trial by combat." She curled her fingers around the hilt of her sword.

Bif swallowed nervously, "As you wish. Moving on, you may dispense with a marriage by giving each of your spouses their final conjugal rights."

Loki looked sheepishly over at Sylvie who was already rolling her eyes at him, but she wasn't backing down, "If that's what you have to do to get this divorce, then that's what you're going to do."

Loki took a deep breath, and turned back to Bif, "Alight, I'll do that one."

Bif continued, "Now, you do need to ensure that each of your spouse achieves 'Satisfaction'."

Loki smugly leaned one elbow against the counter, "That won't be a problem," he smirked.

"You'll have three hours to complete the process."

Loki's face fell, this was perhaps a task that exceeded even someone with his legendary prowess. Meanwhile, Sylvie had collapsed into hysterical laughter.

He formulated a plan, casting a duplicate beside him, carefully solidifying it until it could sufficiently take his place. All he would need to do is repeat the process…

Bif raised a finger, "I must warn you that magical duplicates are not to be used as a substitute."

Loki glared back at him skeptically, "It does not say that."

"I'm afraid it does, an amendment was added to the rules…"

Loki rolled his eyes, "About five hundred years ago, ok, what's next."

Bif waved his hand dismissively, "I always skip option three since it's impossible anyway, so that just leaves…"

" More impossible than those first two?"

" That is what my supervisor tells me. I wouldn't know, I've only been here a week."

Loki leaned over the counter and looked him straight in the eye, "Well, it may be impossible for a lot of people, but a lot of people aren't the God of Mischief are they?"

Bif shook his head, "If being the God of Mischief didn't help you with the first two I highly doubt it'll help with the impossible. Anyway, the details aren't even listed, you'd have to talk to-"

"Your supervisor – ok, what's the last option?"

"The last option is to scale Yonder Mountain and petition the Wise Sage of Calamitous Matrimony for an annulment."

Loki crossed his arms, "I see, and just where can we find this mountain?"

Bif cast his eyes towards the ceiling before throwing his arm out to indicate the direction with a decided lack of enthusiasm, "Over yonder, it's over… yonder."

Sylvie snorted out a laugh, while Loki just sighed, "Ok, that sounds doable, we just teleport up the mountain and-"

Bif cut in, "You must arrive at the summit after having traversed the Path of Many Itches on the back of a talking donkey named Harold."

Loki took a breath, "The path of many itches?"

Bif nodded, "You must also take with you a sack of five hundred lemons as a gift of goodwill."

"Where are we supposed to get five hundred lemons?" Loki said with growing exasperation.

"Lemons are helpfully available for purchase in our attached gift shop." Bif gestured to a door off to the side.

Loki growled, "Why do I suddenly feel like this whole thing is an elaborate scheme to sell lemons?"

Bif shrugged, "I'm afraid any lemon related inquiries will need to be directed to my supervisor, Byron," he pointed towards the ceiling.

Loki clawed his hand through his hair in irritation, "The goat is the supervisor?"

"And the donkey's brother-in-law," Bif shook his head, "I do my best to stay out of the family drama, you know how it is."

Loki certainly did, he calmed himself, "O-Ok, fine. We can do that, buy the lemons, ride the donkey. Where do we find him?"

"Her - and I should warn you she's a bit sensitive about her name, her parents wanted a boy. You'll find her right outside."

"Ok, thank you." Loki sighed in relief at coming to the end of the requirements at last.

His relief proved premature as Bif raised a finger, "I should also warn you that the donkey has a bad back and won't be able to carry the lemons — or either of you."

Loki sighed, "We can walk, not a problem."

"Also, the donkey's arthritis has been flaring up lately so probably faster to carry her up the mountain."

Sylvie smiled brightly, "I call dibs on the lemons."

Loki shook his head, "We're in no rush, anything else?"

Bif looked down at his screen for a minute, flicking his eyes up to the ceiling several times before responding, "I think that about covers it, best of luck."

After purchasing the requisite number of lemons, plus one extra large lemon sack — which cost extra — they found 'Harold' waiting at the back door of the gift shop wearing a large brimmed hat.

Loki cautiously approached the creature, "So you must be Harold?"

The donkey just looked at him.

Remembering what Bif had told him about the donkey being sensitive about her name he decided to use a bit of his legendary skills in flattery. "That is a lovely name you have by the way. Funny story, I was once wildly infatuated with a beautiful princess who also happened to be named Harold. Alas, she wouldn't even give me the time of day."

The donkey brayed loudly.

Sylvie gave Loki a pat on the back, "Doesn't seem very talkative today? Does she?"

Loki smiled wryly at her then continued his efforts to ingratiate himself with Harold. "We were told you're supposed to carry us to the top of this mountain, but we've also been advised you have a bad back so we'll just walk beside you."

The donkey shook its head back and forth, not really seeming to understand.

Loki gestured at Sylvie who had the lemon sack slung over her shoulder, "We will also be carrying the lemons."

The donkey snorted, but lifted its foot and set it down, turning its head towards the mountain path.

About thirty seconds later it lifted another foot.

By the end of five minutes it had proceeded along the path a total of twelve inches.

Loki sighed in resignation before awkwardly lifting the heavy creature onto his back.

If Sylvie wanted him to get a divorce, he was going to get a divorce — even if he had to carry a geriatric donkey up twelve mountains.