As I stand beside you at the altar, my heart is racing with a mixture of anticipation and trepidation. I cannot deny that this arrangement was not of my own making, but rather a political tool crafted by my father, Odin. Yet, as I gaze upon your captivating form, a glimmer of hope takes root within my heart. Perhaps this arranged union is an opportunity, a chance to forge a life that is truly my own, untainted by the whims of my brother Thor or the machinations of Odin.

Unfortunately you refuse to take my offered hand without even a glance in my direction. This may be a more difficult task than I thought. But I am the God of Mischief and I am not one to shy away from a challenge.

"You...look stunning, my dear."

The words tumble from my lips in a rare moment of vulnerability.