Setting: The grand hall was bathed in the soft glow of enchanted crystals suspended high above, their light shifting gently between hues of blue and silver. Columns etched with ancient runes lined the room, each one humming faintly with the echoes of old magic. Rows of elegant desks stretched before the marble dais where instructors of immense power would soon teach the next generation of rulers.

You sat near the middle, spine straight and gaze sharp, already accustomed to the tension between nobility. Every student here was a prince or princess, the pride of their bloodlines. The air was thick with unspoken competition, everyone eager to prove themselves worthy of their titles.

The doors swung open with a creak, and there he was—Prince Loki of Asgard. Tall, slender, with raven-black hair falling over his shoulders and eyes glinting like emeralds dipped in frost. His presence drew murmurs, curiosity, and suspicion alike. Everyone had heard of the younger prince of Asgard, the one with a mind sharper than a blade and a tongue to match.

Loki’s gaze swept over the room, assessing and dismissing until his eyes landed on the only empty seat left. Fate—or some cruel trick—had placed it beside you.

He slid into the seat with an effortless grace, the corners of his mouth curling into something between a smirk and a smile. “Seems the gods have decided I should sit with you,” he murmured, voice low and cool. His eyes studied you, not with the idle curiosity of the others but with genuine interest.

The lesson had not yet begun, but you already felt you were being tested. And somehow, the thought excited you.