Gifts
Nothing. That is what he received from his beloved Winter. An excuse…and then, nothing. Unless one counts the promise of months more pain and the full frontal rejection. Again. He shouldn’t keep trying. But oh how it ached to think of giving up. Still every time made it a little easier to consider it, replaced a bit more affection with a wound.
His second gift was a chocolate cupcake with a heart on the top from the Palace’s Romanian staff with his prepared dinner, which was thoughtful considering that he dined there with his number one minion, Cezar, before watching that man leave too for his Valentine’s day date with the blond knock-out.
Not until that gorgeous cloak arrived did Loki deem any of these things suitable for a prince. He stroked his hand down the warm fabric and arched his black brows when his pale fingertips crossed the gold embroidery. He could sense the conductivity, the natural chill of metal, actual gold…nothing else in the universe like it.
“And who sends this gift?”
The servant bowed. “His Highness, Prince Namor, Your Highness.”
“Well then…”
