Loki had spent considerably more time choosing his ceremonial robes than he would ever admit. He had initially intended to select something quickly, simply to satisfy Eirlys's repeated demands that he take the wedding preparations seriously. Yet once he had been presented with several designs, he had found himself unexpectedly particular about every detail. The fabric had to be right. The embroidery could not be excessive. The colours had to suit the occasion without making him look as though he were attempting too hard to impress anyone.
Eventually, he had chosen a deep, elegant ceremonial robe with subtle gold detailing woven into the dark fabric, the embroidery catching the light whenever he moved. It was unmistakably Asgardian, formal enough for a royal wedding, but still unmistakably Loki. And, much to his own annoyance, he wanted Eirlys to like it.
He found her on the balcony. She sat alone beneath the evening sky, one hand wrapped around a delicate cup of tea while the other rested loosely against the arm of her chair. The breeze moved gently through her hair, and the fading light painted the palace gardens below in muted gold. Loki stopped at the doorway, he did not announce himself immediately with some clever remark, he just simply stood there.
Eirlys eventually noticed him and looked over her shoulder. "You're unusually quiet."
"I have something to show you."
Her eyebrows rose as she looked up from her tea cup. Loki stepped onto the balcony. There was something different about him tonight. The usual calculating confidence and the expression of a man who had already planned three responses before anyone else had spoken was all gone, he looked almost… pleased with himself.
Eirlys set down her cup. "What is it?"
Loki straightened slightly before revealing the robes. "I chose these."
She looked at him, then at the ceremonial clothing. For a moment, Loki said nothing and simply waited. Eirlys realized, with some amusement, that he was actually waiting for her approval. It was almost childish. This was Loki, the God of Mischief, who could manipulate an entire room with a smile and make people question their own thoughts without raising his voice. Yet here he stood before her like a boy proudly displaying something he had chosen and hoping someone would tell him he had done well.
Eirlys rose from her chair and walked closer. She carefully examined the embroidery, the cut of the robe, and the subtle gold accents. "You chose this yourself?"
"Yes."
"You didn't ask anyone?"
"No."
She looked at him. Loki's expression remained composed, but there was something almost expectant in his eyes. "Well?"
A smile slowly appeared on Eirlys's face. "It is beautiful."
The relief that crossed his face was so brief that another person might have missed it but Eirlys didn't. "You actually listened to me."
"I occasionally do."
"Occasionally?"
"I have been known to surprise people."
She smiled. "You'll look very handsome."
Loki's expression shifted because that particular compliment seemed to affect him far more than he expected. "Handsome?"
"Yes."
He looked down at the robes before glancing back at her. "I was hoping you'd say that."
Eirlys tilted her head with that knowing smirk. "You came all the way here for my approval?"
Loki hesitated, then, rather than hiding behind another clever lie, he simply said, "Perhaps."
There was no manipulation, trick, or any carefully constructed motive in the answer but just raw honesty.
Eirlys looked at him for a moment, strangely touched by it. "Well," she said softly, returning to her chair, "you have it."
Loki smiled and for a moment, Loki seemed perfectly content with the approval he had received. There was an almost boyish satisfaction in the way he looked down at the ceremonial robes he had chosen, as though Eirlys's opinion mattered far more than he had intended it to. He had come to show her because he wanted her to like them, and now that she had called them beautiful, some quiet part of him seemed pleased with itself. Yet his attention soon returned to the woman sitting before him, and his eyes drifted toward the chamber behind her.
"Then show me yours."
Eirlys immediately understood what he meant. She regarded him with an expression that was almost amused because she had expected the question, but she had also decided long ago that she would not reveal her wedding attire before the ceremony. There was something about keeping that one detail secret that appealed to her, especially now that she knew how curious Loki could become.
"You'll see it soon," she said simply. "When I stand by you on the aisle."
The effect was immediate. Whatever calm satisfaction had been resting on Loki's face disappeared, replaced by an expression of genuine disbelief. He looked at her as though she had just committed some personal betrayal. He had shown her exactly what he had chosen, had even put the robes on so she could properly see how they looked, and now she was refusing to offer him the same courtesy. It was absurd. And, somehow, incredibly entertaining.
Loki's usual composure began slipping into something far more childish. He tried to maintain his dignity, but the more he thought about it, the more unreasonable the situation seemed to him. He had made the effort to choose his robes carefully, had walked all the way to the balcony specifically because he wanted her opinion, and she had given him hers without hesitation. Yet when he asked for the same in return, she had simply smiled and denied him. He folded his arms and stared at her with the unmistakable expression of someone who had just been told he would have to wait for a present.
Eirlys hid her smile behind her cup. "You're sulking."
"I am not."
"You are."
His denial only made it more obvious. She watched him for another moment, increasingly amused by how little the great God of Mischief resembled the calculating prince everyone else knew. There was no elaborate scheme behind his insistence. He genuinely wanted to know what she had chosen. He wanted to picture her standing beside him on their wedding day, and apparently the uncertainty was driving him mad.
Loki eventually admitted what he felt. "It is not fair. I showed you my robes, you know how I am going to look on our big day. You have given me nothing in return."
Eirlys deliberately reminded him, taking her sweet time. "Loki, you chose to show me your robes, it was your choice. And you know what my choice is? It is to keep my attire a secret. Besides, you will only have to wait till the wedding. It's just a few days."
That answer did absolutely nothing to satisfy him, so he complained instead. "The wedding is days away."
He sighed loudly as if she had sentenced him to an unbearable period of uncertainty rather than merely refusing to reveal a dress. Eirlys only laughed softly and brushed him off. "You'll survive."
Loki settled into the chair opposite her with exaggerated resignation, apparently deciding that remaining there and attempting to persuade her was preferable to leaving empty-handed. He watched her with narrowed eyes, trying to determine whether she had given him even the smallest clue. Perhaps it was blue, or green, or perhaps something entirely unexpected. He considered asking again, but the knowing smile on her face warned him that another attempt would only amuse her further.
"You're enjoying this," he finally muttered.
Eirlys did not deny it and that was the most frustrating part. She knew exactly what she was doing. Loki had spent years manipulating people, keeping secrets, and making others wonder what he intended. Now, for once, he was the one being denied an answer, and he discovered that he disliked the experience immensely. Yet beneath his irritation was something warmer. He wanted to see her, not merely the gown. Her.
He wanted to know what she would look like when she finally walked toward him, when the teasing and preparations were over and the marriage they had spoken about so casually became real. That thought quieted him. Eirlys noticed the sudden change in his expression but did not ask about it. She simply returned to her tea while Loki remained beside her in thoughtful silence. He still had no idea what she had chosen. And, to his own annoyance, he was beginning to think that waiting might make the moment he finally saw her all the more unforgettable.