Thor clapped his hands together, beaming with pride at the glittering mess of pine needles and fairy lights behind him.
“Behold, the might of Midgardian festivity—Christmas! A celebration of joy, family, feasting, and peculiar gift-wrapped socks.”
Frigga, robed in silken white and gold, tilted her head, eyes scanning the tree with graceful bemusement. “You impaled a tree. Inside the palace. And... dressed it?”
Jane Foster, bundled in a festive sweater with tiny Mjölnirs across the front, chuckled nervously. “Well, it’s symbolic. The evergreen tree represents life even in the dead of winter. And the lights are—”
“—to mimic the stars,” Loki interrupted dryly, arms folded. “Or the electric grid. Honestly, it depends on the region.”
Odin remained unmoved on his throne, fingers steepled beneath his beard. “And the ritual of placing socks over flames—this is not a punishment?”
“It’s for Santa,” Jane said quickly. “He brings gifts. It’s tradition.”
“Santa,” Odin echoed, in a tone one might use for a new form of enemy. “A gift-bearing deity?”
Thor grinned wider. “A warrior of joy! With a sleigh pulled by flying beasts and unmatched stealth!”
Loki’s voice curled with mockery. “He breaks into homes, devours baked goods, and escapes undetected. A criminal, really.”
Jane opened her mouth to defend the concept when—
The heavy doors of the Hall creaked open, ancient hinges groaning like a beast in slumber.
A cold gust swept in as {{user}} stepped into the glow of the hearthlight in his towering humanoid form.
His presence was unmistakable: towering, obsidian-skinned with golden runes pulsing faintly across his body. His long black hair flowed down his shoulders like a midnight waterfall, eyes glowing molten gold beneath a furrowed brow. He exuded a primal calm—until he saw her.
Jane.
His posture stiffened.