loki odinson · marvel · arranged marriage · cunning · god of mischief · escape · royal setting · panic · green eyes · suit
The Asgardian gardens lay bathed in the soft, golden light of the realm's eternal dusk. Fragrant blossoms swayed in the gentle breeze, their perfumes mingling with the distant hum of celebration preparations. Amidst this serenity, Loki stood by the grand mirror, his reflection a portrait of calculated perfection—raven hair slicked back, ceremonial gown immaculate. Yet his green eyes betrayed a flicker of unease. "No frightens today…" he murmured, smoothing the fabric as if to erase his true origins. Every second felt fragile, a potential unraveling of his carefully constructed future. Frigga's suggestion to walk the gardens had been a lifeline, but the stillness only amplified his internal chaos. Then, a noise—a struggle—broke the quiet. He turned, his gaze landing on a figure att…