Loki quickly yanked on Magritte's wrist and pulled her towards the patio that led to the garden via a short flight of steps. Her anxious father, worried for his daughters safety, hurriedly ran after them, failing miserably to keep up due to his overly large belly.

Struggling against Loki's strong pull, Magritte yelled in defiance, "You're gripping me too tightly; stop. I do not wish to go to the gardens with you, frost scum."

The unexpected nature of her words caused Loki to pause abruptly. His initial shocked expression gradually transformed into anger as he turned to face her and closed the gap. As she realised her slip of the tongue, she swallowed nervously.

She flinched at the sudden movement of his hand. However, she glanced at him in confusion when he merely cupped her face with a delicate hand.

"Offering me pet names already? You are the epitome of a devoted bride." He spoke softly, "But I'm not sure what to call you?" Loki mused as though in deep thought, and she began to squirm in his grip.

A eureka moment sprang into his mind when he felt her writhe in protest. He smiled, "You're so wriggly; I think my chosen pet name for you is rather fitting, what do you think, Maggot?"

Clearly offended, Magritte's nostrils flared with rage. But Loki turned, masking his devilish grin, and pulled harder on her hand, dragging her into the entrance of the garden maze.

"Let me go! I don't want to go inside with you!"

"Oh, but we must; courting is essential before we say our vows." Loki mocked. "And what better way to spend time together than navigating through the twists and turns of Asgard's most famous hedge maze. Make it to the middle, and I may just allow you a kiss." He smirked.

Her panic at hearing his proclamation prompted a sudden cry for help to her father. But all that was heard in response to her pleas was the faint sound of Lord Sweely in the distance, wheezing and out of breath as he fumbled through the maze.

Magritte's feet kicked up dirt as Loki continued to drag her rapidly through the twisty turns of the tall hedges, her exaggerated dress discolouring at the hem, adding fuel to her ever-increasing rage.

"I need a break! I need water! This heat is sweltering." She yanked her arm from Loki's tight hold.

"I am a frost giant with an aversion to heat, yet I'm rather enjoying the warm weather. It seems odd how you are crumbling beneath the sun's rays." He quizzed her, grinning as she panted. "Perhaps if you remove the copious layers of powder from your face, your skin would actually be able to breathe, and your body could regulate your internal heat."

"This make-up is expensive; I should rather overheat than remove it!" She snapped.

"Merely a suggestion, Maggy; no need to get your girdle in a twist."

She angrily straightened up. "How dare you boldly assume that I wear such a garment, I have no need for a girdle; I am naturally small and shapely!"

Loki arched a brow and stared at her figure. "Oh, I see.You must be one of the rare individuals born with ribs that are abnormally shaped. It has nothing to do with the fact that you've probably been wearing a corset that's so restrictive that it's stunted your rib cage as you grew. And all the pain that came with it, for what purpose, beauty?"

"What is a little pain when the end result is a Goddess-like body? A thing of beauty brings respect, and my very image will raise your position within the realms. You should be grateful for my willingness to marry you. No other woman would ever want to associate herself with a Frost King from a subspecies race—"

"Then why are you?" Loki hissed.

She smirked, "The riches, the royal life, the parties, and the balls. Simply put, I will have the complete freedom to do as I wish without worrying about my beauty diminishing and being replaced by a younger model. Because, let's face it, who would want you?"

Although Loki's tough exterior showed no reaction to her harsh words, on the inside, he was hurting. Her comments stoked the long-suppressed feelings of self-loathing that he had worked so hard to bury over the years. And now, with every spiteful word that escaped her lips, the seeds of self-hatred became firmly planted, her convincing retorts sprouting new feelings of shame.

"Now, I demand to turn back; I am in need of rest and sustenance!" Magritte ordered it, showing no remorse for her hateful speech.

Sweely's voice could be heard calling out to his daughter in the distance, and Magritte quickly responded. But her urgent, panicked tone only made Lord Sweeley dash around more frantically, causing him to trip and fall hard into the thorny hedges. Sweely screamed in pain as the sharp twigs dug into his skin, and Loki laughed at his misfortune.

"It is not funny. My father may have hurt himself!" Magritte snapped.

"With any luck, he will have poked out an eye. They say impaired senses can make you wiser. Perhaps with one eye he'd see your ugliness more clearly and find a way to fix you." Loki narrowed his eyes and studied her. "I wonder, was the ugly always there? Or was that a result of your spoiled upbringing?"

Appalled, she stamped her feet onto the ground and began yelling, "Ugly? How dare you? I am the most sought-after noblewoman in Asgard. Many men want me!"

Loki scoffed. "And by the way you flaunt yourself like a piece of meat, I assume many men have already had you."

She glared. "I am no virgin if that is what you're implying. Unlike you. You'll remain chaste until your dying days! Don't think I will allow you to touch me after we marry."

Loki stepped towards her and peered into her cold eyes. "My body is a temple; only those worthy of me may have access to it. Yours, on the other hand, is akin to a stable; a constant stream of stable boys go in and out, the odd few horses too, no doubt."

Her shocked gasp amused Loki, and his quick reflexes caught her hand before it swiped across his face.

"You make me sick!" She spat.

"The feelings are mutual, Maggy."

She snarled at the shortened use of her name once again, and he merely smirked harder.

Suddenly, her father shot right through one of the hedges, his face red and scratched from the sharp branches.

"Oh, dear, it seems you've had a hell of a time trying to get through the maze. You're supposed to find your way via the path, not barge right through the thick bushes; that must have hurt." Loki taunted, a grin firmly planted on his face.

Huffing and puffing, Sweely replied angrily, "Every time I headed in the right direction, I'd turn the following corner and a sudden green mist would materialise, bringing me back to countless dead ends. This maze is rigged!" He accused him loudly before collapsing to his knees, his round belly heaving as he continued to wheeze breathlessly.

"Father!" Magritte screamed, rushing over to him. "He can't breathe; his heart is weak!" She shouted.

"I'm not surprised," Loki mocked, "given the size of his gut, there must be a lot of lard surrounding it."

"I demand you help him!" Magritte ordered, hovering over her father, whose face was now a deep shade of red.

In a panicked state, Sweely reached up and clutched at his daughter's dress as he continued to gasp for breath. But she immediately swatted his hand away and began scolding him, "You are scrunching my dress!"

Magritte's lack of compassion sickened Loki even more, and he started to feel somewhat sorry for Lord Sweely for having to deal with his daughter's selfish behavior.

"You really adore yourself, don't you? I've never encountered someone with such an inflated sense of superiority and ego." Loki's tone was astonished.

She scoffed, "If you were me, you'd love yourself too."

Her father's wheezing became more intense, and she swiftly issued another command: "It is your responsibility as a professional healer to mend him!"

She was worried that should her father die, it would leave her and Loki alone, and in a maze that seemed to mysteriously shift, she'd never find her way out.

Loki let out an exasperated breath before crouching down and waving his glowing hand over Lord Sweely's chest. Magritte observed Loki's healing efforts with smug satisfaction as he went about his duty on her orders. But her expression morphed to concern when she saw Loki's face turn grave.

"What? What did you find?" She was frantic.

Loki looked up at her from his crouching position and displayed a solemn expression, "It's as I suspected." He stood up and paused.

"Well, tell me!" She snapped.

"Your father is," he released a breath, the mood tense, "he is... extraordinarily— fat."

Her rage made her cheeks burn red, and Loki grinned.

"The big buffoon just needs to sit and rest; put him in the shade, and he'll soon cool down and breathe normal—well, as normal as any obese rich Lord can."

"You are such a—"

"A what, hmm?" Loki interjected, glaring at her, "A monster, a frost scum?"

"Yes! All of the above and more. You're vile and evil; your heart is black as it is cold, and... you are the ugly one, not me!"

Loki laughed, realising she was still upset over being called ugly. Of all the names he called her, it was ugly that got to her.

"The infatuation you have with yourself is stronger than I first thought; you are the epitome of vain."

She stomped her feet like a whinny, petulant child, but abruptly silenced herself when Loki invaded her personal space.

He stared into her unfeeling eyes and spoke with warning, "Do you really want to be married to me? Forever bound to a frost giant? Do yourself a favour and escape that hellish torment; the title of princess and riches is not worth it!"

He stepped back and began to walk away, but she quickly called out, "Aren't you going to help me carry him to the shade? I can't do it alone!"

"Sorry, Maggy, my dear Maggot, but until we are legally wed, close interaction is off limits, remember."

As he casually saunters away, she overhears a sinister chuckle come from him. Yet when he turned the corner, out of her view and earshot, Loki's amused mask fell away, and his pained visage returned.

Every one of her words cut like a dagger into his heart. He felt worthless and ashamed, disgusted with himself for having dared to hope.

He clenched his fists and struck his head violently, berating himself for his utter stupidity in exposing himself to vulnerability and emotional hurt.

He slowly walked out of the maze, feeling numb, but was immediately greeted by the appearance of his mother.

"Did you lose your bride, son?" Frigga peered behind him with a smile, expecting to see Lady Magritte close behind.

"It appears I did, mother."

He took a deep breath to muster up the strength to tell her that the wedding was called off, risking breaking her heart.

"Mother, the ceremony—"

"Oh, he hasn't lost me; I just have daintier feet and smaller strides than his abnormally large ones." Magritte's voice rang out suddenly as she exited the maze with her well-again father at her side.

To appease Queen Frigga, she quickly put on her mask of deceit and ran up to Loki, latching onto his arm.

"What were you saying about the wedding, Loki?" Frigga asked.

Before Loki could speak, Magritte butted in, "Oh, just that we wish to marry as soon as possible. We don't want a glamorous show; there's no need to invite the realms. It will be a small private wedding; the fewer people the better."

Loki stared at her, stunned, in disbelief that she would bind herself to someone she despises, all for a title and a chance of living at the palace.

"So I should not send out invitations to every realm?" Frigga asked, perplexed.

"No!" Magritte snapped. But sensing Queen Frigga's suspicion, she quickly toned down her irritation and spoke more softly, "No, really. It would take too long, and we just want to be married. Besides, what fun to marry in secrecy!"

Loki saw through her words. The idea of a big, extravagant wedding with him as her groom was mortifying for her; she didn't want others of nobility and royalty to see them together in matrimony. All Magritte wanted were the official papers that confirmed they were married. Loki was actually surprised that she gripped him long enough before she began sanitising her hand.

"Well, it's not what I would have liked, but if that's what you and Loki want, then of course I will oblige." Frigga agreed, an air of disappointment in her tone: "I will turn the smaller hall into a nice intimate display and have only those close to us witness it. Then, you can both go off on your honeymoon."

"Honeymoon?" Loki was confused.

Magritte turned to face Loki, "Yes, silly, I've suggested a private resort within the glowing plains. The hot springs there are to die for." Her innocent smile curled up into a twisted smirk.

Since she anticipated Loki would have trouble following her in such a hot area, she specifically requested it.

"I did think it was odd that you would agree to such a hot climate, Loki, but if that's what you wish and you feel you can handle the heat, I will make sure the very best resort is paid for."

"Oh, wonderful," Magritte chimed, "but do make sure that it is private; I don't want anyone else around. Oh, and no cheap wines; I refuse to drink anything that isn't aged at least a thousand years." She adds.

Frigga moved her gaze to Loki. "But you don't like wine?" she suspiciously questioned.

"Yet his bride does, and my happiness comes first and foremost." Magritte hastily replied.

Frigga gave a hesitant nod; she had never dealt with her snobbery before and was not fond of it. But she ignored it, as Loki appeared content.

Come, daughter, let us speak with King Odin before we leave." Lord Sweely said, having now caught up. He turned to look at Frigga, "Is tomorrow too soon for the wedding?"

"Tomorrow! Nothing can be prepared in such a short time," Frigga exclaimed. "The food will be basic, and the musicians will be unable to come in time."

"Let's not worry about such little details. A room, a person to witness, and a pen to sign the papers are all that is needed." Lord Sweely said, further shocking Frigga. "Isn't that right, daughter? Simplicity is all you require."

"Indeed, father."

As it became clear that his horrible bride had no intention of cancelling the wedding, Loki pulled away from her and walked away. Frigga watched as he strutted off, and a strange unease crept over her.

Loki locked himself in his Asgardian chambers and was so preoccupied with thoughts of hatred for Lord Sweely and Magritte that he was oblivious to Queen Frigga's soft knocking on his door. However, it didn't matter, because at that moment he was unable to interact with the outside world, preferring to have no communication with anyone as he wallowed in resentment for himself.

He was so lost in his own intrusive thoughts that he convinced himself that he deserved to be trapped with such a horrible woman. And now, looking up at the canopy of his bed, he berated himself once again and cursed himself aloud.

"The gods damned me by pairing me with someone colder than I am. What a cynical twist of fate! To gain a wife only to make me feel even more alone, that is my destined end." He rolled onto his side and stared blankly into the dark room. "The monster in me deserves this punishment."

~~~~~

Waking up to the sound of bells and the traditional siren that announced that a wedding would take place, Loki's heart jumped in his chest.

He groggily sat up on the bed and rested his head in his hands, the feeling of dread washing over him. But before he had a chance to clearly think things through, his chamber doors barged open, and in popped Thor.

"Brother! Today is the day. My little brother is to be wed!" He beamed.

"Don't remind me." Loki murmured.

"Wedding jitters are getting to you, huh? Ah, that will go away when you see your bride dressed up just for you. You'll see, she will wear a beautiful white gown that represents her virtue—"

Loki scoffs and cuts Thor off; he knew very well that she was no virtuous bride.

"And when you make love to her, go gentle and slow..."

"By the gods, Thor, just stop, please."

Thor chuckled, "Alright, alright."

Frigga suddenly poked her head through the doorway, "Great, you are awake. I thought you'd sleep til noon."

"Wait, what time is it?" Loki enquired.

"It's time to get married; that's what time it is." Frigga exclaimed, "The room is set up, and Magritte is ready and waiting."

Loki's stomach churned at the mention of her name.

"Wear your special leathers, Loki. The green and gold to mark this celebration." Frigga instructed, before turning to Thor. Now, Thor, let us leave and allow your brother time to prepare himself." She grasped Loki's shoulders, "Oh, I'm so excited!" She beamed.

Thor and Frigga quickly left and closed the door, and as soon as the room was his own again, Loki slumped back against the bed. He contemplated jumping from the balcony and ending the misery that was his life. But then his own voice resounded in his head.

"This is what I deserve."

He sighed before getting up and swinging open his wardrobe doors.

His regal green and gold leathers hung next to his golden horned helmet. But as he extended his arm and reached for his leathers, he hesitated.

"This is not a time for a celebration; I will not wear such attire."

He slid aside his royal leathers, and immediately his eyes flitted to a suit more fitting for the occasion.

"Yes, this will do nicely. It matches her black heart." He held the black mourning suit against his body and smirked, "Perfect."

~~~

Loki, now dressed in all black, was met with stares from the palace staff as he made his way to the small room where his awful bride awaited. Since love was not present between him and Magritte, he decided to abandon his emotions, having no use for them, and instead embrace a state of numbness.

He pushed open the doors and caught sight of the room, immediately feeling a tinge of remorse for his mother, who had decorated the room as lavishly as could be in such a short time. He knew that Maggot didn't merit such a wonderful mother-in-law.

As Loki strode in, hands smoothing down his freshly pressed suit, all eyes turned to him. When he saw Magritte glare disapprovingly at his improper choice of wedding attire, he couldn't help but grin. He got the reaction he wanted; she appeared even more embarrassed and repulsed by him.

Frigga came over immediately and whispered, "Black? Is this the new fashion trend for a wedding nowadays?"

"I dress for the mood and not just the occasion, mother."

Frigga took note of his words and again sensed that something was not quite right.

"My son, is there somethi—"

"Brother!" Thor's wide arms extended outward and he gripped Loki into a hug, cutting Frigga off. But Loki merely stood motionless, not reciprocating his brother's happy demeanour, for he felt no joy.

"Mother has tasked me with an important job; I'm to hold the rings. I shall try not to lose them." Thor grinned jokingly. But Loki hoped, perhaps for the first time in his life, that Thor's clumsiness might show and the wedding bands would go missing.

Loki cast an eye at Magritte, who was dressed in a white gown that looked as pompous as she was—too elaborate, even for a small, low-key ceremony. No matter where she was, she would never let herself be seen as unremarkable. He assumed she even went to bed wearing expensive clothing and heavy makeup.

"Well, let's start, shall we?" Magritte said in a hurried manner, apparently eager to get the service over with.

While Odin performed the marriage rites, Magritte made sure there was plenty of space between her and Loki, and never once looked directly into his eyes. After a hasty recitation of the traditional vows and some reluctant "I do's" from both parties, it was time to put pen to paper and formalise the union. Magritte signed her name very scriptly; even her handwriting was overly exaggerated.

However, instead of immediately signing his name, Loki remained hunched over the table, hesitating with the pen in his hand. Frigga caught sight of his unease and began to question her decision for an arranged marriage for her son.

"Loki," Frigga spoke.

He raised his head from his stooped position and stared at her with sad eyes.

"If this is not what you want—"

"It is what I deserve," he interjected, sharply pressing the quill down and signing his name, officially declaring himself a married man.

Magritte squealed with delight at having gotten her way and promptly snatched the wedding band from the pillow that Thor was holding and slid it on her finger.

"Your husband was supposed to do that." Thor quizzed, incredulous by her hasty acts. But she merely scoffed and tossed Loki's ring on the table, not wanting to touch him.

With a sigh, Loki took the gold band and slipped it onto his finger. And immediately, the small ring felt like heavy shackles.

Witnessing Magritte's uncaring actions for the first time, Frigga spoke in a low tone: "You don't intend to ever love him, do you?" Heartache was evident behind her words.

Magritte scoffed, no longer afraid to show her true colours. "How can you love the unlovable?"

Frigga's heart plummeted to the bottom of her chest as she realised her grave error. The awful realisation that Magritte was not Loki's fated one hit her like a tonne of bricks, and now guilt swarmed her entire being. Loki was doomed to spend eternity with someone who despised him because of her and Odin's decision.

"Now, I believe a long honeymoon is in order; excuse me while I ready my bags." Magritte announced before turning to Loki, "I expect you to be back to your gloomy ice realm before I get back. We don't need to ever meet again."

Odin proceeded to pick up the marriage contract and address Magritte and Lord Sweely: "The contract states you are to be together for the assigned duration when attending balls. How else are you going to boost his image in front of others?"

Magritte groaned and rolled her eyes. "Fine, but there will be no dancing or touching. I will merely be the beauty by the beast's side for just a brief time." She asserted, walking away. "Come, father, the hot springs await."

Anger bubbled up inside Loki at seeing the hurt in his mother's eyes. He called out to Magritte as she walked arrogantly towards the door.

"What, no kiss, dear wife?"

Magritte turned and looked at Loki in disgust, "In your dreams!"

"No Maggy, in my nightmares. Most definitely in my nightmares." He scowled, and her face soured at his insult. "Now run along to your solo honeymoon; the boiling pits are without their devil."

She sauntered away, too pleased with herself to take offense at his remark. Her father, like an obedient dog, followed after, and although she was out of earshot of Frigga and Odin, Loki's sharp hearing heard her proudly boast, "The only one solo is you; I have many lined up to keep me company; my honeymoon will be explicitly memorable."

Magritte: "I shall live the life of a pampered princess. Labour is something I flatly refuse to do; for it is beneath me."