Your father walked ahead, his back rigid with false confidence. Your mother clutched Revna's arm, whispering encouragements. Revna's eyes were already bright, drinking in the tapestries, the chandeliers, the guards in their gleaming armor.

You kept your gaze fixed on the floor. Each step echoed.

To his left stood a tall, broad-shouldered man with flowing blond hair and a hammer at his belt. Thor. He looked curious, almost eager.

To his right, a darker figure. Leaner. Sharp features, black hair slicked back, green eyes glinting with something unreadable. Loki.