The Arrangement | Loki | Arranged Marriage

The Bet

"If you truly think yourself incapable of beating me, dear brother, then let us put this... bet to rest now and not after I embarrass you," Loki smiled at Thor, waving his goblet around as he spoke, the liquid sloshing out of the cup and onto the floor. Loki gave it a sideways glance and shrugged.

"It is not that I think I will lose, Loki, it is that I think if I 'barras, embarrass you, you'll be smarting for weeks. Then I'll have to deal with you sulking about the palace for a fortnight," Thor drunkenly smiled back, the cat's satisfied smirk set on his easy features.

They were in Loki's chambers, sitting in armchairs before the fire. They had been drinking heavily for hours, jesting and taunting one another as they came up with the most ridiculous bets to best one another.

I know, we both try to ride a Draguar. Whoever falls first, loses the bet and must go to Midgard.

The Draguar are giant undead who drink blood, whoever falls first will die, and I will have to explain to Mother why her favorite snake-child was swallowed whole by a monster. Then we'll both be dead, what's the point?

True, true brother. Mother would kill you to avenge me. I adore her.

The light from the fire shone across the curtains and tapestries surrounding the walls, soft oranges and reds swimming in emerald green velvet as they prattled on. It was well past midnight, the sun long set, and the servants had long since been sent to their quarters.

This was how many of their nights were spent. After drinking and eating with the rest of the palace, then another bout of drinking with the Warriors, Loki and Thor would retire to one of each other's chambers and talk the night away about one subject or another.

They were now at the point that their bets hedged on the juvenile, rather than the impossible. Loki, in his inebriated state, had suggested a rather childish option: an arm wrestle.

Sure, Loki cut a lithe figure, and most underestimated his strength because of his comparison to Thor. However, Loki was a warrior, and always had been, trained side by side with his brother to conquer and fight for Asgard with every ounce of life in his body.

"Come now, brother! What's sssooo bad about me sulking if you'll have bragging rights for said fortnight?" Loki leaned over his armrest, grinning mischievously at his brother in the dimming firelight.

"Oh, I don't want bragging rights," Thor said, clutching his goblet against his chest and staring into the flames. He pursed his lips in his drunken state, eyes pointed downward as he tried to see them to check if they were still there. Asgardian wine had the tendency to make your face numb, sometimes you had to make sure pieces were still attached.

"Oh?" Loki asked, sitting up straight in his chair. "You've a better prize in mind, Elder Prince?"

Thor shot him a withering look. Loki knew he cared not about succession, but they both did enjoy proving themselves the better prince, the smarter, more handsome, more cunning prince. Hence, the various bets and bits of chaos they often found themselves in.

"Whoever loses... must go to Midgard."

"Midgard?" Loki snorted, shrugging once more and sending more of his wine out of his cup. "And do what? Be their god? We already did that one h-ha- half a millenia ago."

"Midgard has charnged, changed . They no longer care about gods. No, whoever loses must go and... cause some mischief."

"Easy. Worth losing over."

" When you lose, you will... go to Midgard and steal a large sssum of money... aaaand jump from an aircraft! Heimdall will catch you with the Bifrost," Thor decided, his voice slurring every other word. Norns, they were drunk.