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Evening Dining Room, 2011 (Pronouns used for Loki: he/him)
The evening was quiet, the soft hum of conversation filling the air as everyone sat around the grand dining table in the palace's expansive dining room. The food was abundant and carefully prepared, but Loki could barely focus on it, his mind racing as the next day's contest loomed closer.
At the head of the table, Odin rose, his commanding presence quieting the room. All eyes turned to him as he prepared to speak.
"I have an announcement to make," Odin's voice rang clear across the room. His words carried weight, and the suitors and Loki knew something important was coming.
"Tomorrow, there will be the first contest. You will have to prove yourselves artistic. First, every one of you will stitch a pattern on fabric. Then, you will design a piece of clothing for a ball that will be held in the evening. Loki will rate each of these assignments from 0 to 10. The one of you who earns the most points will remain. The three of you with the least points will be sent back to your home realms. Did you all understand that?"
The suitors nodded in agreement, though some looked less enthusiastic than others. Loki could sense their unease, though the weight of his father's words didn't escape him. The next few weeks would change everything, whether they were ready for it or not.
As Odin sat back down, the tension seemed to lift, and the conversation continued. Loki watched each suitor carefully, his eyes moving from one to the next as he evaluated them silently. Their manners, their behavior, their gestures-all were scrutinized as he searched for something, some sign of who might prove worthy of the title of prince consort.
His gaze eventually fell on the Jotun princess, Sylvie. She sat quietly, her eyes focused more on the others than on the meal before her. She didn't participate much in the conversation, preferring to listen. Her appetite was barely touched, only a few bites of fruit before she began absentmindedly pushing her food around with her fork.
Loki, intrigued, couldn't help but wonder what thoughts filled her mind. Something about her seemed different from the others. She wasn't here for the glory, for the contest. She seemed almost reluctant to be part of it all, as if her heart wasn't fully invested in the process.
After dinner ended, the suitors were escorted to their chambers by the guards. Loki, however, saw an opportunity. He caught up with Sylvie before she could disappear into the halls. With a gentle smile, he turned to the guard. "Excuse me, may I lead this lady to her chambers?"
The guard nodded in acknowledgment and stepped back, allowing Loki to take Sylvie's arm.
"Of course, my Prince."
Turning to Sylvie, Loki offered her a warm, yet respectful smile. "Hello, Lady Sylvie. How are you this evening?" He lifted her hand to his lips, placing a tender kiss on her cold, blue knuckles. The gesture seemed to catch her off guard, but the smallest of smiles curled at the corner of her lips.
"Good evening, Prince Loki. I am well, thank you." Her voice was soft, measured. She seemed calm, but there was something behind her eyes-something hidden, perhaps a reflection of the turmoil Loki had sensed earlier.
Loki kept walking alongside her as they made their way through the long, ornate corridors of the palace. "I couldn't help but notice you seemed distant during dinner. Were you preoccupied with something? I don't mean to intrude on your privacy, but I'm genuinely curious if there's something troubling you."
Sylvie glanced up at him, her eyes a little distant, and for a moment, Loki thought she might withdraw, but instead, she responded honestly. "Honestly? I'm not very fond of the idea of being here. Don't get me wrong, Asgard is a beautiful place, but I don't like being a suitor. And knowing myself, I'll just fail the assignments and be sent back to Jotunheim. Back at dinner, I was overthinking it all-how it would be if I ended up marrying the prince of Asgard, or what my father would do if I failed. He has high expectations."
Loki listened closely, feeling a sense of empathy. He had his own burdens of expectation. "I understand that," he said softly. "My own father always preferred my brother over me. It was very tiring. But my mother... she's perfect. She has the kindest heart, and she always treated Thor and me equally."
Sylvie smiled at the mention of Loki's mother, but Loki could see the sadness in her eyes. He wondered about her family, the weight of her own background.
"My mother was murdered by the Dark Elves when I was very young," Sylvie continued quietly, her voice softening as she spoke. "She accidentally caught the Aether in her body, and she didn't realize it. One night, the Dark Elves broke into the palace and left her with a dagger in her heart. But I'm okay. I still miss her sometimes, but I realized that mourning wouldn't bring her back. I had to accept the truth."
Loki gave her a sympathetic look. Her words mirrored his own experiences with loss, and he could feel the weight of her story.
They stopped in front of one of the gilded doors leading to her chambers. Loki gave her a polite, respectful smile. "Thank you for letting me escort you, Lady Sylvie. I wish you a good night."
"My pleasure. I wish you a good night too, Prince Loki," she replied, her voice soft yet genuine.
Loki turned to leave, his mind still spinning with the conversations, the competition, and the fleeting connection he had felt with Sylvie. As he walked away, he couldn't help but wonder if there was more to their meeting than mere formality.
