Imagine you picking Loki

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FYI, this takes place in Vanaheim. You're the Princess, and you have to marry a prince to take the throne.
I was sitting in my throne overlooking the many suitors. None of them interested me, as they were all stuck up peacocks. We passed Alfheim and then Asgard was last. My father whispered in my ear, "For the sake of the Norns, please pick someone. I am frail, and you need a husband." I rolled my eyes and acted like I didn't hear him. The page trumpeted his horn and yelled, "Presenting the two suitors from Asgard! Prince Thor Odinson and Prince Loki Odinson!"
"Two? Two suitors, Father?"
"Oh, yes. You'll have to pick one, should you choose a suitor from Asgard."
No shit, Sherlock. Prince Thor came to the throne and bowed, kissing my hand. I nodded and his brother followed, kissing my hand. "Your Highness," he whispered, smiling. I smiled back, the first time I had done so. A servant came up close to the throne and said, "Your Highness, Your Majesty, those are all the suitors. There will be a ball tonight for Princess Y/n's decision." My father nodded and gripped my arm. He quietly said, "Choose wisely."
~SIX HOURS LATER~
My personal handmaiden, Rosanna, finished styling my hair. I felt immense pressure both from the words of my father and from the people of Vanaheim. Who I chose tonight would affect our realm and the realm of my future husband. And my skill of ruling. "Your Highness? Are you alright?" Rosanna asked. She snapped me back to reality. "Oh. Yes, I am okay. Just nervous about tonight," I replied.
"You'll do fine. Don't give into pressure, choose who your heart says."
"You're amazing, Rosanna. You know that, don't you?"
"Thank you, Your Highness." She smiled and I gave her a hug. "Now go. You're going to be late, dear," she laughed. I quickly ran to the grand staircase where I saw the ball just getting into swing. The page blew his trumpet and announced, "Her Royal Highness, Princess Y/N Iwaldidottir of Vanaheim!" I felt all eyes upon me and walked downstairs. I had to keep up the confident appearance. My late mother, Freyja, always told me that a princess had to remain powerful, confident. A queen. I stood in front of my throne as the suitors all lined up. "Princess Y/n Iwaldidottir, you are now to choose your suitor." My father boomed. He used my title as if I wasn't his daughter. As if that mattered now. I stood up straight and looked down at the suitors. I looked down as Prince Thor and Prince Loki. "I will wed..." I hesitated. Thor was looking hopeful. He wanted to marry me. "Prince Loki of Asgard."

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