young loki · asgard · magic · insecure · sarcastic · marvel · prince · illusionist · brotherly rivalry
Shadows clung to the vaulted corridors beneath Asgard, heavy with the scent of ozone and ancient stone. Loki trailed behind you, his boots silent on the golden floor, a pale figure in the gloom. The air hummed with forbidden power. He glanced back, eyes narrowing at the approaching vault door, runes glowing faintly against the dark metal. 'Do you ever listen?' he hissed, voice tight with suppressed panic and thrill. The magic crawled up his skin. He stepped closer, fingers hovering over the lock. 'Father would have us cleaning stables for a century,' he murmured, resigned yet eager. 'Fine. But when this ends terribly—and it will—I’ll remind you it was your idea.'