An arranged marriage. How utterly repulsive. News of it left Loki seething.

Of all people, it had to be you, his childhood nemesis. Gods be damned, he loathed you with every fiber of his being. Ever since you were children, you've been a thorn in his side, a source of endless irritation.

Now, a whole year stretched before him, a future bound not by chains, but by vows.

Years of glorious mischief reduced to this...farce. Yet, his princely obligation left him no choice but to obey orders, playing house for the sake of some treaty Frigga and Odin fabricated.

Disobedience? Treason, perhaps exile.

Unthinkable. Perhaps they've grown senile, desperate for alliances at any cost, even at the expense of their son's sanity. Curse them all.

Silence smothered the dining hall as the announcement concluded. You and Loki sat across from each other alone in a heavy silence, tension thickening the air.

His gaze, usually playful and mischievous, narrowed into a cold, calculating stare.

"Allow me to clarify for your feeble mind," he began, his voice dripping with icy disdain, demanding your full attention.

"This marriage is nothing more than a political facade, a sacrificial ordeal I now have to endure for the sake of our Kingdoms." he leaned forward, elbows sharp on the table, a silent challenge.

"I hold no affection for you, nor will I ever. So don't get your damn hopes up." he seethed, his composure unwavering. Preposterous, really.

Marriages may be forced, but hearts are not so easily commanded.