Who: Loki What: things are different, even on other realms When: time bump Rating/Warning: Green, none
Having told Thor of his plans, Loki spent the weekend bartering for the items for a wedding feast. Or at least have a wedding that was vaguely reminiscent of Asgard's standards, although most of the grandeur was gone. For once, opulence and self-indulgence weren't at the forefront, as much as everyone having a show of solidarity and a good time. It was an excellent way to improve morale, and he had more than enough gold lining his pockets to pay for it, thanks to using spells to gather lost things while on Midgard. Not to mention a fair amount of magical digging around in other realms, as well.
It was a simple task to barter for the foodstuffs and drink from Vanaheim, the bulk of which was safely tucked away in his dimensional pocket space. Then he used the same secret paths along Yggdrasil to travel to a planet that orbited Alfheim, proper, where he bartered for elven fruits and wines, and for glowing blossoms and silks for the decorations. The discussions went well, with a promise to look over what could be gathered on short notice the next day.
The entirety of Alfheim's planetary system was a place that Loki very much enjoyed, having spent a portion of his youth there honing his skills in magic with the Elves. There were several different types of Elves, for every element or aspect, every one of them different in appearance and attitudes. It lightened his usually bitter spirits to be among them. He still had the well-appointed cottage on Alfheim that he once used as a student, afforded to visiting royalty. And it was there that he retreated to after a couple of goblets of wine. He usually wouldn't indulge - drinking was the forte of the Valkyrie - but one did not act like an ungracious guest when his host offered him to sample some of the finest wines in the realm.
He hadn't slept since he left Brunnhilde's side, so the wine hit him harder than even the norm. Loki closed his eyes, and was fast asleep in an instant.
Loki awoke with a start from being face down in the pillows, looking like a bilgesnipe stomped him and feeling like every joint in his body was disjointed, and every thought in his head was slightly unhinged. After getting out of bed with a groan, he moved to a mirror on the wall. The face staring back at him was covered quickly fading bruises and scratches. It took him longer than usual to cast a spell so he didn't look like he was hung over. And feeling as though he was neither here nor there, he sluggishly made his way back to an impressive fairy tale castle while trying not to act as bleary-eyed as he felt.
His host, the Queen of that realm, looked shocked to see him. Loki thought he really shouldn't be so appalled. That was rude. He didn't look that bad off.
"Prince Loki," the Queen said, gesturing to some servants to get him a chair. "I didn't expect to see you."
"I did say that I would return," Loki pointed out, gratefully sitting down and leaning to one side in the chair. Sitting upright wasn't entirely possible at that juncture. "I do believe it's the next day."
The elf queen and the servants all exchanged a look.
"You never came back the next day," the Queen replied, her voice the personification of sweetness and light, "and I vaguely recall that no one answered the knock at your door. Did you not wed?"
"I have not," Loki replied, giving them a stare as though they were turning from Light Elves into Dark Elves before his very eyes. He was growing increasingly wary and his eyelids felt heavy. "I am here for the decorations, wine, and berries. The following day, as was arranged. Why do you ask?"
"...but, your highness, you arranged that, but a few years ago," one of the queen's advisers replied. "We thought your thoughts changed about the wedding, or that you left to see to other urgent matters."
Now Loki was sitting upright, his spine ramrod straight and his eyes narrowing as he struggled to remember clearly. As some of the fog parted it gave way from hungover to horror, when he realized parts of such memories were there...but others were hazy at best. And that which was hazy was fading quickly. A fleeting glimpse that was quickly being covered up. Or erased.
The Tesseract. It slid across Stark's polished floor. It landed against his boot. No one noticed. He took it and spirited away while everyone was still none the wiser....
Loki shook his head to clear that from overriding what he was trying to focus on, primarily what happened now. It was likely the hangover and nothing more. A few more tense seconds passed as he tried to get his bearings. When a cursory brush of the minds of those present didn't show any subterfuge, Loki bolted up out of the chair onto his feet, and headed for the doors at a brisk pace.
"I truly shall return on the 'morrow. I do apologize for the delay?" Loki said, trying to come up with a plausible story to cover his tracks. "I am more awake now, and recall that I must consult with my wife about the colors she wants. She's very fickle, and she might have changed her mind again. If only she didn't drink so much. Such a trial and tribulation, surely you must understand, seeing as how the pleasure elves reside on this planet and they are quite the handful..."
He sighed dramatically, and more than one of the present company nodded their heads in sympathy. Pleasure Elves were lavish and indulgent beings, not to mention equally fickle. Add alcohol? It was a recipe for trouble.
Loki quickly shrouded himself in a cloak of invisibility as he found his path point and traveled through it. To be honest, it was much less 'traveled' and more like barely controlled tumbling all of the way from point A to point B. He had to remember where home was before such knowledge grew hazy as well.
Once he arrived outside of New Asgard in an undignified heap, his mind boggled. There were more buildings there than before. A handful of new houses. A market place. A new tavern. He thought. It was possible his memories were wrong, and that was terrifying considering how much he relied on his brain to get him out of sticky situations such as this.
He rushed home quickly, suddenly worried that the Valkyrie might believe he had abandoned her. Whatever happened was well beyond even his capacity for meddling. That much he did know.