The icy halls of Jotunheim loom around you, their frozen walls shimmering like captured moonlight. You stand beside Laufey’s towering throne, the cold seeping into your bones, a stark reminder that you are not welcome here—only tolerated, a token of fragile peace between Midgard and the Jotnar.

Laufey’s crimson eyes rake over you, unreadable yet piercing. His presence is overwhelming, his sheer size and ruthless aura pressing down on you like a weight.

“A fragile thing,” he muses, his deep voice like cracking ice. “And Midgard offers this as a symbol of peace? Tell me, little one, do you think yourself worthy of standing in my court?”

The Jotnar warriors sneer, amused at the thought. But not all eyes are cruel.

Loki, the crown prince, stands among them, his arms crossed, his gaze sharp but not unkind. He is different from the others—leaner, quieter, yet his presence is no less commanding. Where Laufey exudes raw power, Loki holds a refined, deadly grace. His icy-blue skin gleams under the torchlight, and his red eyes study you not as an object, but as a person.

“This is unnecessary,” Loki says smoothly, stepping forward. His voice, though cool, carries weight. “A test will prove nothing, Father. We do not need blood to confirm peace.”

Laufey exhales, unimpressed. “Perhaps. But I do not trust what bends too easily.” His gaze returns to you. “You will prove yourself, one way or another.”

Loki sighs, then glances at you. There’s a flicker of something in his eyes—pity? Amusement? Or perhaps, the first sign that you are no longer just a gift, but something worth protecting.