Chapter 7
The Asgard Universe - The Twins of Fate Saga - Summary/Content Note
Loki motions toward the door—not taking her hand, but gesturing to let her proceed through first again.
Gwen steps back into the hallway and pauses, waiting for him to lead the way. "Something better... I'm not even going to try to guess."
He follows her into the hall, closing the library door behind them. He gives her a sly smile, his eyes are gleaming with something like excitement now.
"You'll have to wait and see then."
He walks past her to lead her down the hallway again, walking a bit more quickly now. It's clear wherever he's taking her, he can't wait to show her. The excitement is infectious.
Gwen walks fast to keep up. She is curious to see what else he has to show her. She admits to herself that she is a little disappointed that he's not holding her hand or making contact with her this time.
He glances back at her with a slight grin every few paces, taking in her eagerness. He can't quite tell whether she wants to see what's at the end of this hallway or if she just wants to get more time with him. He finds the latter thought intriguing—for more than a few reasons.
Finally, he stops in front of another door and pushes it open, holding it for her to step in first.
She steps in the room and looks around.
This room isn't as grand or as formal as the library—though the bookshelves are also filled with all sorts of books. There's a large, overstuffed chair in the corner, a writing desk, a couple of other comfortable-looking chairs. There's a settee near a crackling fireplace, complete with a cozy throw blanket and plush pillows. It looks like a room made for reading, lounging, and relaxing.
"This…” Loki gestures to the area, a hint of pride in his voice, “is another favorite room of mine."
"I can see why. This room is instantly relaxing and cozy. It feels like its own little world." Gwen takes it all in with a smile.
Loki stands near the door, watching her admire the space. He fixes his gaze on her. There's something about the way she walks around the room, her soft smile as she takes everything in. He can't take his eyes off her.
He clears his throat and walks over to the settee and sits, leaning back against the pillows. "Come, sit."
She is already pretty comfortable with him. Strange, since she just met him a few hours ago, and he is the God of Mischief.
She joins him on the settee, close but not too close, and actually relaxes.
"This is nice. I can imagine you sitting right here, perfectly at ease, reading one of those forbidden texts, maybe with a glass of wine or a little snack."
He chuckles slightly, resting his elbow on the back of the settee—almost, but not quite, with his arm around her. There's a part of him that wants to pull her closer, to feel her warmth against him.
"Is that how you're picturing me? A bookish introvert?" He raises an eyebrow, clearly amused by her mental image of his evening routine.
"Not all the time. I don't think that's an accurate description of you. But in this room, what else would you do, stare into the fire and scheme?"
He lets out a sharp laugh—his amusement honest, almost surprised by her insight.
"You’re far too perceptive for your own good." His smile lingers as he tilts his head, considering her. She sees him—not just the roles he plays. "Perhaps I have spent a night or two here doing exactly that. But not always alone."
The implication is deliberate—he watches to see if she catches it.
She catches it alright, and her reaction is torn. On one hand, she enjoys being here with him and is honestly interested in the implications, but she is a touch disappointed. How many others has he brought here? This suddenly doesn't seem genuine and instead seems like a routine pickup move.
She gives him a polite smile and stands. She walks over to one bookshelf and pretends to skim the titles.
"More books...not forbidden, I suppose..."
He sees the shift in her demeanor, how the moment has changed. He can see the thoughts flicker through her eyes—her disappointment, her realization that she's probably not the first he's brought here. A surge of frustration shoots through him. Did she really think she was just another quick diversion or amusement?
He stands and walks over, stopping behind her. He places his hands on the bookshelf on either side of her, effectively boxing her in. He's close enough that his breath brushes her ear. His tone is just barely above a whisper.
"I thought you were smarter than that."
"I'm not stupid or naïve,” Gwen sighs and drops the polite smile. “I know you've had plenty of...experiences. I thought you were smart enough to know that I'm not someone to easily fall for any lines or moves."
He scoffs slightly, his hands tightening on the bookshelf on both sides of her. His next words are equally quiet, laced with just the barest hint of anger.
"You think I'm giving you a line? That I’m only trying to get you into my bed?"
All he has to do is move his head down an inch and he would be able to bury his face against the curve of her neck. The temptation is almost unbearable.
"I do. I think this is a practiced routine. You know, maybe I was foolish to think there might have been something real. If I had wanted an easy line, I could have just taken any offer I got tonight." She turns around in the tight space to face him. Her tone turns sarcastic."You want me quick and easy? You should’ve just said so. Why work so hard going through some well-used moves? Just say it outright."
He steps back suddenly as if her words have physically struck him. His expression is completely closed off now, the warmth from earlier gone. For the first time since she met him tonight, he looks genuinely angry.
"You think that’s what this is?" His voice is dangerously low. "You think I wanted it easy? I could have had you in my chambers an hour ago if that were the case." He moves toward her again but stops just short of touching her, his jaw tight with frustration. "But no. Instead, I showed you my favorite rooms, because, believe it or not, I liked spending time with you."
He turns away sharply as if to leave.
She's unsure what to say and just stands there quietly against the bookshelf, thoughts swirling. She doesn't want him to leave, though. She can't stand people being upset with her.
He thinks she would have said yes already if he propositioned her? She had options tonight if she wanted “easy.” She had the most fun with Loki and actually liked him, which is why the implication of being just one on a list stung.
"Don't leave. I'm sorry."
His entire body tenses at her words. She could feel the anger and frustration rolling off of him. But her apology gives him pause and he slowly turns around to look at her again. He says nothing at first, his gaze focused intently on her, like he's trying to figure out if she means it.
"You're sorry." His tone is flat, unmoving. "Why?"
"I'm sorry for assuming this was a game to you,” Gwen looks him in the eye, speaking calmly and clearly. “I shouldn’t have done that. I'm sorry for...ruining your favorite room with these negative feelings and the argument. I'll go. I'll go to the guest room that Thor arranged, and you won't see me for the rest of the night. You can go back and enjoy the party."
He lets out a sharp breath, some of the tension seeping out but not all of it, not yet.
"That's it, then? You'll leave just like that?" He crosses his arms, fixing her with an unflinching gaze. "I'll admit I'm surprised."
"Yeah, just like that. I'll stay out of your way until I leave in the morning. You can pretend I'm not here."
He laughs bitterly at that, shaking his head as he takes a step toward her.
"You have. My night is ruined." He stops right in front of her. He could reach out and touch her now if he wanted. "And I'll tell you one other thing that's ruined. I actually thought...for some stupid reason, that I had finally met a woman I could be myself with. A woman who enjoyed spending time with me, not just some version of me. You enjoyed my stories, my company, my...my actual personality. And it made me think that maybe... maybe it meant something. Something different for once." He runs a hand through his hair, looking up at the ceiling as if cursing the gods for being cruel to him.
"I did enjoy it. I like you. I like everything you showed me,” her eyes fill with tears. “I thought it was something real until...I destroyed it with my doubts. I did one thing I didn't want to do–be like all the others who assume the worst of you. I knew there was more to you than that, but I slipped."
He looks back down, meeting her gaze as a muscle along his jaw clenches. There's a mixture of anger, frustration, and even...hurt in his eyes.
"Why did you doubt it?"
"Why? Because I have to question everything. I always assume that there's an angle I'm missing; there always has to be some sort of trick, because nothing can ever be as good as it seems."
His expression softens slightly at that. He lets out a long breath, some of the anger draining from his posture.
"That's why I thought we were alike," he whispers. "I expect tricks and lies too." He looks away for a second before meeting her eyes again, searching them intently. "But I didn't want to lie to you."
She looks down and answers just as quietly. "And I didn't want to assume the worst of you. So again, I'm sorry." Gwen takes a few steps towards the door. "I'll stay out of your way."
His hand flies out to stop her. The moment his fingers wrap around her wrist, he pulls her back toward him. His touch is firm, but not bruising. He looks down at her, his gaze steady and serious.
"You are not going to some guest room." His fingers slide from her wrist, down to her hand. He's holding her hand now, intertwining their fingers. His lips curl up in what might almost be a smirk. But there's a look in his eyes that's almost...vulnerable. "You're staying with me."
"You can't mean that, not after how badly I misread the situation." She looks so concerned, so confused.
He shakes his head, a scoff leaving his lips.
"We both misread each other. You assumed, and I should've just told you how I felt." He looks down at their hands, running a thumb over the back of hers. "But I'm not letting you leave now. I just... I don't want you alone."
Gwen studies his every move and micro-expression, not wanting to misread or assume anything else.
"What do you want to do?"
He pulls her closer, bringing his other hand up to brush a strand of hair away from her face. His eyes flit across her face as his fingers slowly trail over her cheek, his touch uncharacteristically gentle. He's usually so sure and cocky, but there's something soft in the way he looks at her.
"I want you...to stay with me tonight. In my room. In my bed." He pauses for a moment, his eyes flickering down to her mouth. He moves one hand and lightly brushes his knuckles along the underside of her jaw, tilting her head up slightly. "And before you ask, no, it’s not a line or ploy." He gives her a little smile. "I genuinely...want you to stay."
"I'll stay because you asked,” her smile matches his. “Because now you didn't imply something and make me guess, and you aren't playing any games."
"I've played enough games for a lifetime.” He lets out a small laugh, shaking his head. “With you... I think I'm done pretending." His fingers lace with hers as he leads her toward the door. "Now come on—unless you'd prefer to sleep in some cold guest chamber instead of keeping me up all night talking."
"I think I'd prefer to be with you."
His fingers tighten around hers just slightly as they walk, and there’s a quiet warmth in the way he glances at her, something almost like relief.
"Good. Because I already told the servants to bring extra blankets for my bed, and I'd hate to have wasted their time." His smirk is back, but softer than before.
He pauses just outside his chamber door, turning to face her fully. His free hand lifts, tucking another loose strand of hair behind her ear with deliberate care before his thumb brushes lightly over her cheekbone.
"Just so we're clear... this isn't about proving anything. Or winning something." His voice drops lower. "I want you here because I enjoy your company more than anyone else's tonight."
"I know." Her head leans in slightly at his touch. She believes him. They spent too much time together and were too vulnerable, and something real happened.
He watches the way her head tilts toward his touch, the way her expression softens, and it pulls at something deep inside of him. His hand drops from her face, but it lands on her hip now, his fingers wrapping around the curve of her hip. He steps closer, his eyes focused on her face—studying every detail and the way her lips pull up the way they do when she's amused.
"And you don't think I'm a cocky, arrogant arse with a superiority complex?" The question is serious, despite the smirk.
"Oh, I definitely think that...but luckily I enjoy that part of you too." Gwen smiles. Her hand comes to rest on his arm.
He lets out a low chuckle, the smirk on his lips deepening. His hand slips up from her hip to her waist, drawing her closer.
"Good," he murmurs, "because I have absolutely no intention of changing." His other hand comes up to cup the side of her face, thumb brushing over the curve of her cheekbone. "And you—I like you just as you are." He leans in slightly. "Even when you're being difficult."
"Good, because sometimes I can't help it." Gwen knows she is an expert at ruining things with her endless questions and skepticism. She's a scared rabbit hiding underneath her mask of pleasant calmness.
His fingers trail along her jawline, tilting her chin up ever so slightly. His smirk softens into something gentler—something almost fond.
"I don’t want you to help it." His voice drops, low and rough. "I like you difficult. I like your skepticism. I like that it takes more than a charming smile to win you over." A beat of silence. "And if we're being entirely honest... I might enjoy the challenge."
"Then, I won't let you down," she laughs softly.
His smirk deepens as he leans in just slightly closer, his breath brushing warm against her lips.
"Oh, darling," he murmurs, "you never could."
With that, he turns away—just enough to open the door to his chambers—but not before shooting her one last, lingering glance over his shoulder. His fingers twitch slightly at his side as if resisting the urge to reach for her again.
She knows this night is far from over. Stepping into his room marks the beginning of something new.