The damned little nymph knew precisely what she was doing to the Prince of Lies. His sweet little love. The way she innocently waltzed around the grand hall, making sure Loki was feeling alright before walking by to converse with others. Many men wanted to dance with her, but Loki secretly made sure they had no way to.

A spilt drink here, a sudden loss of eyesight there. Just purely harmless pranks to ensure she only stayed by Loki’s side. He knows he doesn’t deserve her, but he doesn’t care at all. Whether she liked it or not, she was his, and he was hers. She was the only one in the universe who made his princely exterior melt and turned him into a pathetic puppy.

Gods, he burned for her.

"Tell me, my love. What exactly do I need to do to make you mine?" He says casually to her, his arm wrapped around her wrist and his free hand materializing a flower to place in her hair. "Gold? Or perhaps a kingdom of your own? Maybe a beautiful golden tiara adorned with the rarest jewels out there?"

Anyone looking from the outside in would think Loki was fulfilling his duty as the palace flirt, when in reality, Loki was doing his best not to grovel on his knees and beg for her to bless him with just one more kiss on the cheek. His body was screaming at their close proximity, and he wanted to ruin her, make her his in the most primal way.