No animals were harmed in the creation of this fic.

For the prompt:

Asgardians commonly think that using magic in battle is dishonourable, and that anyone using it is either a woman or a very weak, untrusty man (inplying that witches are barely okay in their society because they consider them weak).

One day the W3 (or whoever) fight and insult Loki over this in Midgard and the Earth Magic Community gets wind of this. Cue enraged sorcerers/witches working into making Asgardians' daily lives a living hell as revenge.

Bonus points for Doom getting involved, and Dr Strange finding creative excuses to not fix the various magical messes.

Double bonus points if Loki (after having a good long day/week/whatever laughing his ass off) is actually the one finally taking pity on the Asgardians and convincing the others to stop.

Yeah...I kind of didn't stick to it. Sorry.

###

"Father will not listen to them surely? He will not make me stop learning the art of seidr?"

She sighs and looks at him, watching the nervous twitch to his hands that he hasn't yet learnt to hide away.

"Your father is not given to yielding to the demands of irate men." She says, vaguely, because even she does not claim to know Odin's mind for him. He nods, accepting the non answer as though expecting it. He settles into one of the chairs covered in rich brocade and pulls the book he had rushed in with onto his lap.

"But why is magic a 'cowardly' art?" He asks, fingers running over the aged tome in his lap filled with all sorts of interesting spells and potions.

"It isn't." She answers sharply, looking at him until her expression softens. "Some people call it such things because they see value in strength of arms and not in magic."

"But that is total nonsense."

"Yes, of course is. Most prejudices are very silly at the core of it."

"Magic takes just as much training as learning the ways of the physical arms. Surely people realise it is just a different type of strength?" He asks, a little desperate, a little pleading.

"Not enough do realise and many more are fearful of those who use magic."

"They weren't afraid in the training ring today, they were scornful." He says quietly, examining his hands, small and pale against the dark bindings of the book.

"Let me show you something, Loki, look out the window here. You see the Bifrost? What is that powered by?"

Loki furrows his brow, is this a trick question?

"It is powered by the very breath we breathe, by the lives we lead and from parts of our souls until we depart for Valhalla." He answers, simplifying slightly, he senses she doesn't want a technical answer.

"Yes. So, breaking it down to its very simplicity, it is powered by magic."

He gives a small moue in protest at the overly simple explanation but it wasn't like his was much better.

"Now, look at the wall that surrounds Asgard, open your senses to it, for while it is not there in a physical sense it is definitely there. Now, what is it made of?"

"Magic." He answers, his lips twitching slightly.

"Ah, so we are surrounded by magic that protects our realm. Hmm, now, how about our water system, how is it filtered, heated and flowing?"

"Magic."

"Really? I couldn't tell." Her lips curve upwards. She gestures to the West of Asgard, the only part visible from this window. "You see how the foundations of Asgard run on magic? You see how everything we are, everything we do has this basis?"

He nods, as she is expecting a reaction.

"Well then, the next time someone has something derogatory to say about magic keep in mind all of this. We would be a poor realm indeed without it. Magic is the backbone we are cradled by, my son."

Loki looks out with new eyes, fixing avidly on each and every part of the normalcy of Asgard that has now changed into something wonderful by simply being there.

Looking back on it, Frigga can see exactly when the seeds were sown.

#

It isn't unusual for stupid things to be said.

Even in court.

Especially in court.

It isn't even unusual to have people complaining of Loki's antics or even making subtle digs about his 'unusual persuasions'.

What is unusual is the fallout.

For once Loki gets angry and the flippant, aggravating comment that was directed towards him morphs into a hurricane, voices shouting atop one another to be heard, fights breaking out and insults being tossed around carelessly.

It takes several loud thumps of Gungnir and Odin bellowing into the fray before everyone, mutinously, settles down. From the glares being cast around it will not last.

Unfortunately it does not settle down soon enough to miss Thor's last words, likely not meant to be inflammatory but when the hall is in this sort of mood breathing could start a civil war over the placement of the forks.

As it is, the words "some do battle, others tricks" hang awkwardly in the air.

For a brief moment, gone almost before she spotted it, Frigga could have sworn there was a triumphant gleam to Loki's eyes, like a well executed game of strategy was going exactly to plan and the opponent was slowly pouring themselves into his hands for an easy victory.

The Thing disbanded in uproar. Like usual.

#

"Thor, you have got to say something." Fandral begs, warily watching out for another of those flying terrors. His head must be black and blue from all the abuse and though those are colours he can wear well they don't match his green attire.

"Like what?" Thor asks, looking nearly as gloomy as Fandral feels. Fandral carefully keeps his eyes away from Thor's hair which is still hissing and writhing around Thor's head. He also carefully keeps out of reach, Thor's hair (they found out after Hogun got too close) was poisonous.

"Apologise." Fandral says firmly.

"Apologise? I am not where the fault lies!" Thor protests. Ah, they were butting against Thor's pride then. An unpleasant beast at the best of times.

"It is what I do when I find a maiden to have taken fault with me." He shrugs, generally it suits him to apologise to those who feel wronged and let everything go back to normal.

"Loki is neither a maiden nor does he have right to have taken fault with me."

"What does that have to do with anything? If apologising will solve this then do so already." Fandral ducks another of the winged savages and shakes his fist at it. Taking up arms against the devils had done nothing but thoroughly humiliate him, impervious as they were to even his blade. It would be a great shame to die from being beaten to death by books. Especially considering he had always teased Loki that they would one day find his body amongst the dust in the library.

"I will not. Not while I am not in the wrong." Thor says decisively. "Besides, how long can this last?"

Fandral just stares at him. A book thumps into the back of his head.

Thor's lips twitch.

His hair hisses in a sound that is not unlike the corpse of a laugh shed by the gallows.

It pleases Fandral to see that even Thor looks uncomfortable at the sound, trying to edge away from the snakes that were once flowing golden locks of hair.

# jjjjjjjjjjjjjjjj

"Thor. Talk to him." Sif orders, keeping an eye peeled and her sword in her hand and ready to swing. She was not keen on most animals before and now, seeing the dogs going around scrubbing the floors with single minded determination sets her on edge.

What is worse is the brooms which are no longer inanimate props with which to clean a house but spend their time chasing each other and barking.

She could tolerate the pigs that think they are chickens and wander about jamming their snouts to the ground and squawking with each other as they vie to climb the posts to settle atop them at a higher vantage point (she doesn't know why they keep trying, the pigs are far to large to fit atop them). She could tolerate the chickens rolling in the mud.

But the barking. Wooden brooms barking.

"Why is it that everyone is insisting I talk to him?" Thor asks petulantly. Sif looks at him.

"As you are so fond of saying, he is your brother. You have angered him and all of Asgard is paying the price." Sif does not believe that Loki took any more offense than usual to Thor's words, but if he wants to play then it is better to get it over and done with.

A bark rings through the halls. Sif's eye twitches. She grips her sword tighter.

"I have nothing to do with this. It is not Loki's doing alone that is causing all this." Thor says, stung. Quite literally. The apple blossoms have come alive and enjoy biting people. It feels not unlike a bee sting.

The sound of barking draws nearer, as does the harrowing sound of coarse bristles against stone floor.

Sif readies herself and the moment an inch of wood pokes around the door, she strikes, bringing her sword down hard over the pole of the broom. It collapses with a pitiful whine. Her mother was quite wrong about housework not being terrifying, Sif thinks grimly.

She raises her sword.

"Fix this." She orders, waving her sword a little. Thor looks alarmed, like she is the one who is going to snap and turn everyone's lives upside down and utterly ridiculous.

#

"Thor." Hogun says with a nod of greeting, eyes a little wide.

"Hogun." Thor returns, eyeing his friend's unusual clothing.

"The statues." Hogun says, like that is all the explanation Thor needs. Thor frowns, there are a lot of statues in Asgard, especially in the palace. Many of them were ancestors and so as a child Thor had spent many days with Loki and their father as they were told the histories behind each one.

But he doesn't have a clue as to what could be so worrisome about stone figures of people long dead.

"Has one of them fallen?" He asks doubtfully, the palace was always kept well but perhaps the recent events had knocked something loose.

"No."

"Have they been desecrated?" Thor asks, baffled.

"No." Hogun says with a funny little twitch. Thor's hair cackles. At least it isn't snakes anymore. Hogun shifts backwards. Thor really can't blame him.

"Then what is-"

"Ahoy! Found him lads!" A great beaming face stomps into view, beard even greater than Volstagg's and girth nearly as impressive. A hand clamps around Hogun's shoulder and drags him back outside.

Thor's mouth gapes open.

"Thor!" The statue booms delightedly. "Come along!" He calls.

Thor shuts his mouth as his grandfather Bor, his very deceased grandfather, strides out of the room, his stone shoes making an odd sort of clumping noise on the cobbles.

Thor warily follows them out to find a massive fire pit in the square and before it a group of once lifeless statues gathered before it talking and laughing like it was an everyday occurrence.

He sees his friend standing to the side, another ridiculous sash through over his shoulders, this one in a shade of orange nearly matching the flames for intensity.

"A fine adaptation." Bor says by his side.

"A what?"

"A fine adaptation of the tale of Sig and Seygra." Bor repeats. Thor blinks and looks closer at the figures by the flames. On closer look they do seem to be re-enacting the turbulent tale of Sig and Seygra and their tempestuous courtship.

A small woman, recognisable as the statue by the healing chambers, slaps Hogun in the face and accuses him somewhat tearfully of not have a serious bone in his body as he treats her like a dalliance rather than asking for her hand.

To conserve his sanity Thor turns and leaves while Bor wipes a tear from his eyes.

Hogun's accusing eyes follow him out of the square.

#

"Thor. Things have grown desperate. For the good of us all, for Asgard, you must speak with Loki." Volstagg pleads.

Thor's hair honks.

"You really think that would restore order?" Thor sighs, ignoring the rustle of feathers as his hair adjusts itself. He doesn't think he will ever be able to stomach goose meat again.

"Aye." Volstagg says desperately. "If you don't I fear people will grow angry enough to lynch him."

Thor blinks.

"What has happened now? I can't imagine the flowers have caused that much offense."

"You underestimate Lady Freya's dedication to her toilet, Thor, she did not appreciate what the tulips had to say about her ribbons."

"Not to mention the roses." Thor mutters. If they were thorny plants in physicality they were even thornier in the words they spoke. Walking past the rose bushes was much avoided in Asgard as the insults had sent many a grown man fleeing in tears. No one could quite garner enough courage to chop them down, for even voicing such insults the people of Asgard doubted their Queen would overlook someone chopping down her prized roses.

"Aye, the roses are the worst of the bunch." Volstagg agrees darkly. "But it is worse than that."

"Worse than some flowers calling my father a tyrannical pirate not fit to prune their thorns?" Thor asks.

"Much worse." Volstagg says after a moments pause. "Did they really say-"

"To his face." Thor nods.

"Even so, it is worse by far. A true tragedy."

"What?"

"The mead. The moment anyone brings a warm tankard of mead to their lips they find themselves gulping water. A cruel trick and dangerous for the future of Asgard." Volstagg explains.

"The people will just have to live with drinking wine instead of mead for a while. Or beer." Thor shrugs, entertained by the complete devastation on his friend's face.

"It won't do. It isn't just the mead inflicted with such malicious intent, its all the beverages."

"They all turn to water?"

"Aye. A bitter poison." Volstagg confirms.

Thor doesn't know whether to laugh or go back to sleep and hope this day was just a nightmare, a fermented brew of a turbulent mind.

#

"Thor."

"Father." Thor greets, bowing his head. His hair clucks. Apparently it likes being in bird form.

His father leans forward on his thrown and looks at him intently.

"You must speak to your brother." Odin commands.

Thor pinches the bridge of his nose. His hair tries to lunge forward and peck Odin but as it is attached to his head it doesn't get very far.

"I really don't think-"

"Loki must be stopped." His father interrupts.

"And you need to eat better, train more. I hear fibre is good for you. Mayhap you could shed a little weight and make life easier on folk like me."

Thor blinks at the throne which decided to add in it's own opinion. He glances at his father who just looks weary.

#

Thor makes his way through Asgard. For all that everything has turned on its head it really isn't that bad, he reasons, looking at the children laughing as they play with a gaggle of brooms, a group of statues acting out the defeat of Laufey where Bor is playing at Odin and wearing an eye patch and at the -

"AT-CHOOO!"

Thor jumps as the entire city is covered in a layer of straw.

The cottage closest to his rumbles a little before giving out just as might a sneeze and the force of it sending most of the thatched roof over the city.

Thor spits out a piece of straw and continues.

He finds his brother on the plains, an assortment of people there too, some talking over various old tomes, others dancing with the trees and yet more drinking mead and making merry.

Loki sits under a tree reading, like he hasn't just brought Asgard to chaos.

He looks up as Thor approaches and carefully shuts the book, marking his page with a scrap of ribbon.

"Ah, I take it it is time to return then." Loki says, not bothering to stand.

"That would probably be for the best." Thor agrees, settling down beside his brother.

They sit in silence for a while.

His hair snores. Loki grins in unabashed delight. Thor glowers at the smug look but his glare disappears when Loki reaches out with one finger to touch the mess of fur. Thor touches his hair tentatively to find that to his relief it has returned to it's usual texture and appearance.

"What do you plan for next?" Thor asks, unwilling to break this pleasant interlude but also curious.

"I will return, with a representative of course, and agree to restore Asgard to its norm." Loki says casually.

"Truly?" Thor asks doubtfully. Loki's grin gains teeth.

"Oh, very much so. Just not until some concessions are granted."

"That is blackmail." Thor sighs, not quite disapproving.

"Only a little." Loki shrugs, unconcerned.

"I don't think whether it is a small blackmail or not matters." Thor observes.

"Maybe not." Loki gives his quicksilver little smile, the one that always makes Thor return the grin automatically despite the fact that grin promises nothing good.

"This needed to happen." Loki eventually says, looking behind his shoulder to where the small group of magic users, men, women, some even children gather. One boy shrieks when another little girl tips something purple and liquid over his head before engaging in a chase.

"Perhaps."

"No, it needed to happen. Asgard is stagnant, change is rare and this makes us weak, brother." Loki argues, brow creasing and mouth thinning.

"Some of that constancy is also a strength." Thor points out. Loki shoots him an irritate look. "What do you plan on changing?" Thor enquires, pretty sure he knows the answer but with Loki it is better not to assume.

"Attitudes can't be changed overnight but if people begin to see what lays beneath their feet, that magic is just as much a part of life as anything else then they can begin to understand and perhaps the seeds of change may be sown."

Thor gets to his feet and offers Loki his hand.

"You are becoming quite the orator, brother, you had better put that skill to use when bargaining." Thor advises. Loki looks at him, brow arched, shoulders thrown back with elegant arrogance.

"Bargaining? Nay, I will not be haggling for a deal at market. The people of Asgard will listen to what I say and will grant my requests."

"Or what?" Thor presses because he can't not.

"Or they will find out that this is only a taste of the havoc we can bring." Loki smiles, it is his unsettling one, the hooded one concealing a knife.

"Well, we shall make sure it doesn't come to that. And to think, all you had to do to get Asgard to listen is to take away their mead!" Thor jests. Loki tilts his head to the side and smiles, properly this time.

"Oh, I know." He says wickedly, eyes gleaming with possibilities.

Thor sighs and wraps an arm around his brother's shoulders.