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Throne Room, 2011 (Pronouns used for Loki: they/them)
"Loki. Since Thor went to Midgard to help his companions in their fight, you have become the crown prince. And soon, you will have to take up the mantle of leadership and rule the Nine Realms. So, we must find a suitable partner for you, one who can stand by your side as you face the challenges ahead," Odin's voice echoed throughout the grand hall, commanding attention and respect. "I have already informed the Kings of the realms of this necessity, and they have all agreed to send their children as suitors. There will be nine suitors in total, one from each of the realms. Three contests will take place, and in each, you will have to decide who stays and who leaves. The competition will be fierce, and in the end, only one will remain, the one whom you will marry and who will share the throne with you. Do you understand, Loki?" Odin's gaze was steady, unyielding as it fixed upon his child.
Loki stood still, their posture regal but their mind racing. The weight of their father's words settled heavily on their shoulders. They could feel the cold marble beneath their feet, the same coldness that seemed to fill their chest. This was not a decision they would have made on their own, but they knew they had no choice. The pressures of ruling, of living up to the expectations placed upon them, were overwhelming. Despite their deep reluctance, they nodded in response. "Yes, Father. I understand."
A silence stretched between them, but Loki's heart was not at ease. They did not feel the thrill of becoming the ruler of the Nine Realms. Instead, they felt dread—the kind of dread that came with being trapped in a role they never asked for. The thought of an arranged marriage, a union of politics rather than love, only added to that feeling. Loki didn’t even know who these suitors were, these strangers who would be judged in a series of trials as if their worth could be determined by mere competitions. It all seemed so… cold, so impersonal.
Odin, sensing no further resistance, continued, "The suitors will arrive tomorrow. Be ready by dawn to welcome them properly. I want you dressed in your finest clothes, prepared to make a decision that will affect the future of Asgard and all the realms." His tone left no room for negotiation, and Loki knew better than to argue.
"Yes, Father," Loki replied, their voice betraying little of their inner turmoil. They stood there a moment longer, their eyes fixed on the floor in front of them as they tried to contain the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside them. They could feel their father's gaze upon them, but Loki had long since learned to mask their feelings, to hide the depths of their frustration, their sadness, and their uncertainty behind a cold, emotionless mask.
With a sharp bow, Loki turned away from Odin and began descending the long, spiraling stairs that led from the throne room. Each step felt heavy, as if the weight of what was to come pressed down on their very soul. Loki didn’t know how they were supposed to carry the burden of leadership, not when they felt so small in comparison to the great expectations placed upon them. The weight of it all threatened to crush them, but they swallowed their fear and continued walking.
As they reached the bottom of the stairs, Loki made their way toward the massive golden doors that would lead them into one of the palace corridors. The cold air of the palace swept over them as the doors creaked open, but it was a welcome sensation, one that helped to cool the burning thoughts swirling in their mind. They needed to think, to get away from the looming pressure of tomorrow's arrival of the suitors. Perhaps some fresh air would help clear their head, give them a moment of peace.
Without thinking, Loki found themselves walking toward the gardens that had once belonged to their mother, Frigga. Her gardens had always been a place of refuge, a place where the world’s noise faded away, and one could simply exist in quiet solitude. It was there, among the flowers and trees, that Loki hoped to find some semblance of clarity, even if just for a moment. The path through the palace was long and winding, but the familiar sight of the garden gates was a comfort.
As they stepped into the garden, the scent of blooming flowers filled the air, mixing with the earthy freshness of the soil. The vibrant colors of the petals contrasted sharply with Loki's troubled thoughts. They walked aimlessly, their steps slow, allowing the peace of the place to settle into their mind, even if just briefly. The soft rustling of the leaves, the chirping of distant birds, the coolness of the evening air—it was a stark contrast to the heaviness of their responsibilities.
Loki closed their eyes for a moment, breathing in deeply, trying to calm the storm of thoughts racing through their mind. How could they choose a partner when the very idea of ruling felt like a prison? How could they possibly choose someone to share such a life, when they had so many doubts themselves? What if the suitors were not right for them? What if the person they were meant to be with didn’t even exist in the Nine Realms? The questions lingered, unanswered and growing heavier with each passing moment.
They had little choice but to move forward. But for now, at least, the gardens offered them a brief respite from the inevitable. They walked further into the peaceful solitude, hoping that tomorrow, when the suitors arrived, they would at least have some clarity, some sense of peace that had eluded them all their life.
