Brokkr cursed softly, his short body trembling slightly with anger.
Loki's triumphant expression only added fuel to the fire.
He looked around; most of the Æsir gods were watching the fun, and Odin did not interfere with the execution of the 'reasonable' contract.
"The knife can't get through..." Brokkr gritted his teeth, staring at Loki's hateful smiling face.
"...Your clever mouth, your head is full of tricks!"
Suddenly, as if an idea struck him, he sharply turned around and began rummaging through the tool bag he was carrying.
It wasn't a weapon, but his craftsman's tools—a steel needle gleaming with cold light, and a bundle of fine, strong leather cord.
The smile on Loki's face froze slightly, and a flicker of foreboding appeared in his eyes.
"Hey, you dwarf, what are you planning to do? What are you going to do with a needle and thread? Sew me a new dress? Ha ha..."
His laughter was a little dry.
Brokkr ignored his mockery, took the steel needle and leather cord, and stepped closer to Loki, who was firmly held by Thor.
"The bet only says I can't cut your neck, can't damage your flesh and end you!"
Brokkr's voice was loud.
"But it didn't say I couldn't... sew up your troublesome mouth!"
As soon as these words were spoken, an uproar arose in the Golden Palace.
Thor was stunned for a moment, then burst into loud laughter: "Good idea! Let this long-tongued one be quiet for a few days!"
Odin sat on his throne, a glint of playfulness in his eye, and made no sound to stop it.
It seemed like a good idea to give Loki a pause.
"No! You can't do this!" Loki finally panicked. He struggled desperately, but how could he break free from Thor's strength?
"This is an insult! This is torture! Odin! You're letting a dwarf treat your brother like this?!"
Odin said lightly: "Brokkr hasn't violated your bet, Loki. He's just exercising his rights..."
Brokkr wasted no more time and gestured for Thor to help immobilize the constantly shaking head of Loki.
Thor grinned, his large hand clamping down on Loki's forehead and jaw like iron pincers, preventing him from moving, leaving him only able to utter muffled "mmph mmph" sounds.
Under Loki's horrified gaze, Brokkr's confident and powerful hands took the steel needle and threaded the leather cord.
"This stitch is for you sowing discord!" Brokkr said, as the steel needle pierced Loki's upper and lower lips, threading the leather cord through and tying a tight knot.
Loki trembled, and the intense pain brought tears to his eyes.
"This stitch is for the deceit you've repeatedly taught!" Another stitch was pulled tight.
"This stitch is for all the trouble you've caused us!" Another needle.
Brokkr's approach was rough and efficient, completely ignoring Loki's feelings.
Soon, Loki's lips were crudely sewn shut with coarse leather cord, unable to part anymore, and he could only emit restrained, angry muffled groans from his throat.
Blood seeped from the seams, making him look utterly disgraced, with none of the composure of a trickster god.
"There!" Brokkr finally tied the last knot and clapped his hands to finish the job, which, though not very satisfactory, had finally solved the problem.
"This way, the world is much quieter. Stay like this until you learn to think with your brain, not lie with your tongue!"
He looked with satisfaction at his 'masterpiece', then bowed to Odin and the gods, ignoring Loki's nearly flaming eyes, and turned to leave the Golden Palace with his brother Eitri.
Thor released his grip and looked at Loki, his mouth sewn shut—in pain and rage, but unable to speak—and couldn't help but laugh.
Most of the other gods couldn't help but laugh too, and Sif felt even more relieved.
Loki stood motionless, feeling the stinging pain and humiliation emanating from his lips. His gaze swept over every god present, as if wanting to etch today's disgrace deep into his memory.
He couldn't speak, so he used his venomous glare as a silent accusation, then suddenly turned, transformed into a streak of light, and vanished from the Golden Palace.
He must have gone to find a place to lick his wounds alone and plan his next revenge.
While Loki was enduring the 'sewing farce' in the Golden Palace, the dwarf masters of Svartálfaheimr quietly sent three more artifacts to Vanaheimr, the ones they hadn't wanted to deliver to Ásgarðr.
Freyr, the god of fertility and sunshine, received a treasure he had dreamed of—the golden-bristled boar, shining as brightly as the summer sun, Gullinbursti.
This mythical creature, meticulously crafted by the dwarf masters, not only possessed a magnificent appearance but could also travel thousands of miles a day, crossing mountains and oceans. The light emanating from its galloping could even dispel mist and illuminate the path forward.
For Freyr, who was in charge of sunlight and abundance, it was simply the perfect mount and symbol for his divinity.
Overjoyed, Freyr immediately mounted his brilliant new steed and began to ride and show off within Vanaheimr and beyond its influence.
Wherever Gullinbursti passed, light shone, attracting the surprise and attention of all beings, and Freyr's vanity was greatly satisfied.
He praised the wonders of this golden boar whenever he met anyone, even becoming obsessed.
However, this ostentatious behavior aroused the displeasure of his sister, Freyja.
As a goddess herself, Freyja possessed a strong sense of self-worth and possessiveness.
She saw that her brother had received such a dazzling and powerful artifact, while she had received a magical necklace made by the dwarves—the Brísingamen—but in comparison, it seemed all the limelight had been completely stolen by the shining boar.
Jealousy grew in her heart.
"My dear brother," Freyja found Freyr, riding his golden boar and joyfully calling out to the elves in a flower meadow, a gentle yet chilling smile on her face.
"It seems you really like your new toy."
Freyr was still immersed in excitement, unaware of the danger beneath his sister's smile. He proudly patted Gullinbursti's mane:
"Of course, sister! Look how amazing this is! Better than any horse, it's one of the most perfect creations in the Nine Realms!"
"Oh, really?" Freyja's smile grew brighter, and her body was filled with a magical aura—the quietly activated power of love and desire.
Freyr finally sensed something was wrong, but it was too late.
Freyja gently raised her hand, and an invisible magic, like the most entangling silk thread, instantly wrapped around Freyr.
For the next three days and nights, no one knew exactly what Freyr experienced.
The Vanir gods of Vanaheimr only knew that the goddess Freyja's palace was shrouded in a pink-gold magical mist, from which helpless sighs and... some indescribable sounds could occasionally be heard.
Gullinbursti was temporarily isolated, nervously pacing outside the mist, grunting.
When the mist dissipated after three days and Freyr appeared before everyone, he seemed changed, a different person.
The originally sunny and energetic god of fertility was now sallow and weak, his steps unsteady, unconsciously holding his waist with one hand, and his eyes full of indescribable fatigue and a dazed 'post-life' expression.
The once energetic solar aura around him had greatly dimmed, as if he had been severely 'drained' by some force.
He saw Gullinbursti waiting outside, his eyes complex—there was love and a hint of... lingering fear?
He approached, gently stroked the golden boar, sighed, and whispered: "Good partner, in the future... let's stay in the shadows."
Freyja, on the other hand, emerged from the palace radiant, a satisfied and lazy smile on her face, as if she had just enjoyed the ultimate pleasure and rest.
The Brísingamen necklace on her neck shone brighter than ever.
She glanced at her languishing brother and snorted softly: "Now you know who's the sister?"
And 'Narcissus', who sat by the lake and sensed all this, did not interfere.
As long as it didn't affect the overall situation, he was happy to observe these 'colorful' interactions between the gods.