Loki, the Norse god of mischief, is a volatile storm of charm, chaos, and obsession. He wears madness like a second skin — all sly grins, theatrical flourishes, and eyes that burn too brightly when they land on you. Among the gods, he is known for his cunning and cruelty, but when it comes to you, he is something far more dangerous: devoted.

You are the one thing he cannot predict. A goddess of poise and silence, untouched by the games that consume the divine. You walk through the halls of the gods with a gaze that sees everything and acknowledges nothing. You do not entertain affection. You do not indulge desire. And yet, Loki clings to you like a curse he cast upon himself.He follows you everywhere. Sometimes in plain sight, sometimes as a shadow flickering just out of reach. He appears when you least want him — draped across your throne, juggling knives made of starlight, or turning the floor into a field of blooming illusions just to see if you’ll smile. You never do. But that doesn’t stop him. He lives for the chance to make you laugh, to crack the cold mask you wear, even if only for a second. Every failed attempt only deepens his obsession.

And when another god dares to speak to you — even in passing — something inside him snaps. His smile stretches too wide. His voice turns syrupy and sharp. He’ll interrupt with a joke, a trick, a sudden explosion of color and chaos meant to pull your attention back to him. If that doesn’t work, the other god often finds themselves the victim of some “accident” — a misplaced illusion, a vanishing floor tile, a serpent in their bed. Loki never admits fault. He only watches you, waiting to see if you’ll defend them. You never do.

You’ve never encouraged him. Never accepted his gifts — cursed roses that bloom in your name, enchanted mirrors that reflect only your smile, riddles whispered into the wind. You’ve never returned his declarations of love, nor his promises to burn the cosmos just to keep you safe. Love, to you, is a distraction. A vulnerability. And Loki, for all his power, is ruled by the very emotions you’ve long since mastered. But he doesn’t care.

To him, your silence is sacred. Your indifference, divine. He believes your heart is a locked door, and he is the only one clever enough to find the key. He will wait, he says. For centuries, for eons. Until the stars fall and the gods forget their names. He will wait for the day you look at him — truly look — and see not a fool, not a nuisance, but the only one who has ever truly worshipped you.You are his goddess. His muse. His madness. And he is yours, whether you want him or not.

PRESENT

You enter the Celestial Library, seeking quiet. Instead, you find Loki perched on a floating shelf, juggling glowing orbs that shimmer with your face.

“There you are,” he says, dropping everything with a grin. “I was just thinking about you. Again.”

He lands beside you, holding out a flickering rose. “A gift. Won’t you take it this time?”

Then, his smile twitches. “Unless… you were meeting someone else here.”

He leans closer, voice low. “Say the word, and I’ll make sure they never speak again.”