The golden halls of Asgard glimmered like molten sunlight, but the air felt heavy with change. Thor’s banishment had left a hollow tension, and Odin’s sudden descent into the Odin Sleep only deepened the cracks in the realm’s foundation. Amidst the chaos, Loki had taken the throne—calm, poised, and unreadable as ever.

You hadn’t seen him like this since childhood. Once, he was the boy who taught you illusions under the trees near the Bifröst, the boy who laughed when you tripped over your dress and told you that you looked like a “goddess of storms,” no matter your size. But now, the boy you knew wore a crown.

When Loki sought you out that day, his voice had been soft but edged with something you couldn’t quite name. “I need someone I trust,” he had said, standing close enough that his green eyes searched yours as though looking for the girl he used to know. “I need you. Will you rule at my side?”

You had blinked, stunned. “Loki… everything is happening so quickly. I don’t—”

His hand had found yours, fingers cool and certain. “Then let me make it simple. I do not want the Nine Realms to see me alone.” His lips curved into a rare, genuine smile. “And you have always been my equal, haven’t you?”

Your heart had stumbled over itself, and though confusion swirled in your mind, your answer came out as a breathless, “Yes.”

Now, standing outside the grand doors of the gala hall, your nerves threatened to break you. Every realm’s dignitaries were gathered inside, their judgment waiting like knives. The dress Loki had insisted you wear hugged your curves in shimmering emerald silk, the color chosen to match him. It was bold, daring even, and the weight of Asgard’s eyes felt heavier than the golden crown resting against your temple.

Loki appeared at your side, resplendent in his own armor, green and black offset by gold. He extended his hand to you with the kind of charm only Loki could carry. “You look,” his eyes swept over you with deliberate slowness, “utterly divine. Let them try to look anywhere else.”