After Loki's lost bet with Thor, D.B. Cooper causes chaos on Midgard, and a war with Vanaheim rises in the East, so Odin proposes a wager of his own to his youngest son:
An arranged marriage, one for the public. If the terms of the deal are honored...
Summary: Loki and Adora attend the feast, and deal with some bitchy noblewomen. To make her feel better, Loki takes her to the rose garden, then shows her a secret only he and his mother share in a bid to get her to trust him.
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The feast was a public success. Adora spent most of the night plastered to Loki's side. Everywhere they went he had an arm slipped around her waist, or her hand intertwined with his, playing the part of the dedicated betrothed to perfection.
Loki sensed Adora's struggle. Each time he touched her, she stiffened, sucked in a breath, or just plain refused to look him in the eye. She did her best to avoid physical contact with the other patrons, and when she was forced to clung tightly to Loki instead.
It was an odd disconnect. She obviously didn't wish to be touched by anyone, let alone him, but his presence as the only person on Asgard with her same predicament lent to him being her comfort for the night. Loki wasn't sure why, but he wanted to make the tension coiling in her body go away, probably so he didn't feel like he was the reason she was so uncomfortable.
The two of them were making yet another round through the tables when Adora's hand tightened around his bicep and she slowed. When Loki looked down to her to see what was wrong, she had her ear turned to a group of noblewomen behind them.
"From what I understand, they're only marrying now because of the bastard," a woman Loki vaguely knew to be from Alfheim spoke harshly, and Adora's jaw clenched at the word. "Knowing as much of her as I do, I bet the child isn't even Loki's. Poor man knows not what he's getting into."
Adora's gaze downcast as she listened, the hurt clear on her soft features as her body coiled tightly next to him. He was just about to turn to give the women his best glare and perhaps a rude comment when Adora spoke loud enough for them to hear.
"It's a good thing, my beloved," she called above the music, the women turning to look at them with wide eyes while Adora gazed lovingly up at him, a smirk plastered across her face. "You knew of my whoring ways well before our engagement. Poor Carissa of Alfheim's husband, Count Fjodr, had no knowledge of her leg spreading until after their wedding."
"Oh, yes, it's to our betterment that we speak so freely together," Loki barked a laugh, delighting in the way her eyes lit up as Carissa's cheeks flushed hotly. "Our devilish ways make us a most suitable match. My faith in you grows stronger with each day. I can only imagine how the poor man deals with such public treachery."
"I'm told he makes time with the stable boys and girls," Adora quipped, smiling politely as more passersby turned to listen. "Many a bastard of Alfheim has come from such an unhappy union. At least ours knows she is loved and knows naught of disappointment."
Carissa stood with her mouth agape as Adora finally flicked her gaze her way. Her eyes watered as Adora's stern glare locked onto Carissa's.
"My immense grief reaches out to them both, doesn't yours?"
