The God and the Siren (Loki Romance)

Chapter Twenty

I suppose it's fortunate happenstance that New Year's Eve happens to fall on a Friday. Tony and Pepper left early in the morning to wrap up a couple of more meetings, but they'll be joining us again in the afternoon to celebrate. And after looking into a number of tourist attractions all week, today is our official day of freedom for this trip—since our flight is tomorrow night.

The Asgardians and I had a light breakfast at a cafe just across the road from where we're staying, and have since been exploring the streets of Geneva, slowly making our way to a local park on the edge of town. The best part about this whole trip is the crazy amount of snowfall the town's been getting—the sound of my boots crunching against the snow is immensely satisfying.

"Cerys!" Thor's voice echoes from far behind me, and my chin presses against my soft scarf as I tear my eyes away from the snow-laced tree branches, and I look back at him—at all the Asgardians, who've apparently situated themselves on a bench on the other side of the blanketed field.

The snow crunches underneath me as I turn and pull the edges of my black trench coat further together, and stick my hands into my pockets as I trail on back toward them—suddenly noticing that we're missing one Asgardian—Loki.

My curls brush against the rough, warm fabric of my coat as I look around, and see him far off to the left—near the treeline that ascends into some hills. Loki's a small blip against the snow, dressed in all black, as usual, except no suit this time. Instead, he's sporting a pair of black jeans and a a coat. My beeline toward the bench curves as I saunter off in his direction, and I realize along the way that Thor's right—he does dress like the wicked witch of the west most days.

"We don't get snow like this in New York," I say as I come up behind him.

I look over his profile as he turns his head slightly toward me for a moment, and then looks back up at the trees just above us. "No, I suppose not."

"Did you ever have snow in Asgard?"

"No, unfortunately not," Loki pauses for a moment. "Though it might have been nice."

"Yeah," I nod, turning to look back at the horizon of buildings and mountains in the distance. "I've always liked winter more than any other season. It's the most peaceful time of year, I think."

He bobs his head—giving my a sidelong glance, and a moment of silence passes between us. I sway slightly in place—looking around the rest of the field as the cold air nips at my skin, and eye the Asgardians sitting together on the bench, occupied with some conversation that's got them laughing heartily and throwing us the occasional glance. I immediately feel drawn to them, to the outward displays of joy and friendship—really, I can't imagine how anyone wouldn't feel the same way.

I look back at Loki, looking over the sharp features of his profile—wondering what it is that he finds so fascinating in the trees. Why he seems to always feel the need to pull away from the others so much. He's obviously well past the age of being a misunderstood recluse teenager, and considering his continued presence in all our activities, it seems like the others do make an active effort to include him anyway.

I cock my head slightly, and slide my boot over the snow as I turn and face him completely. "Can I ask you something?"

Loki gives me a blank, sidelong glance, and nods.

"Did..." I pause, briefly second guessing my decision to pry—but I guess there's no turning back now. "Did you want to come on this trip?"

A flicker of movement passes over his brow as he eyes me confusedly. "What do you mean?"