Loki awoke the next morning to the sensation of a soft kiss against his bare shoulder. As he gradually opened his eyes, he remembered. His first conscious thought was that he loved and was loved in return. He was lying on his side, and his arms were wrapped around Anthony, who was gently scattering kisses over his throat now, soft as the petals of a flower. The inexpressible joy of awaking to the feel of his Anthony touching him, caressing him, the undeniable certainty that he was not alone but surrounded by their love for one another, the almost unbearable sweetness of leaving behind sleep to find his life was more wonderful than any dream, all of it swept over him in a wave of warmth like summer sunlight. Memories of the night before slowly played in his mind's eye, a collage of images of the two of them together in the weaponsmith's bed. Loki hummed quietly in satisfaction, drawing his arms more tightly around his lover, holding him as though he were the most precious thing in the world, for to him, he was.
"Good morning, my love," he whispered before lazily kissing the shell of Anthony's ear. "So very, very good."
They kissed, languid and unabashedly sensual. Loki rolled them slowly over until Anthony was atop him, and he used the new position to run his hands down the length of his back, resting his fingers against his warm flesh, gently kneading it as his lover turned his face to one side to nuzzle against his chest and press open-mouthed kisses over his heart.
"You are truly expert at that," Loki groaned, arching his back at the attention.
"Are you insinuating I am promiscuous, my prince?" Anthony said, raising an eyebrow but with an impish glint in his eye that meant no offense was taken.
"I am saying directly you are the most flexible," Loki kissed him, nipping playfully at his lip, "passionate," and again, slowly drawing his lower lip into his mouth and sucking on it like a ripe peach before releasing it, "beautiful," he murmured, letting his nose gently tease against Anthony's in lazy circles, "talented lover it has ever been my absolute pleasure to lay with," he said, ending with a kiss so intense that it seemed to be on the verge of liquifying Anthony's brain.
"I may as well have said the same words to you," Anthony said, letting his hands wander through Loki's hair and grinning at him.
"Did you know," Loki said as conversationally as possible while slowly massaging the other man's lower back, gradually letting his hands stroke lower until Anthony was sighing with happiness, "that today is the day of my birth?"
"Is it indeed?" Anthony said, looking up at him coyly through his lashes.
"It is," Loki said, inhaling the scent of his skin, a mix of the metal of the forge and the warmth of woodsmoke. "It's a national holiday, right there on the calendar in bright green."
Anthony tutted quietly in response, shifting his hips slightly in a way that made Loki draw in a sharp breath.
"I believe you are owed a present, then," he said, trying to look innocent and failing completely. "What would you like?"
"You, obviously," Loki answered, quickly flipping them over and kissing him again.
"Ah, but you already unwrapped me last night," Anthony said. "Where's the sport in that? No, you must have something else, too."
"Fine, then," Loki said, drawing back a little and looking into his lover's eyes, his mood suddenly more serious. "I will take a promise."
"What would you have me promise?" Anthony asked.
"The gift of a kiss," Loki said, caressing Anthony's lips with his thumb. "Each year, for the rest of our lives, on my birthday, promise me that you will give me a kiss, that you will be beside me, and on this one day we will never be separated so that we can remember this joy."
"You meant what you said last night," Anthony said, kissing the tip of his thumb and smiling. "It was not the meaningless babblings of lovemaking."
"I meant every word," he said.
"Then I owe you a mug of mead," Anthony said.
"And I owe you a ring," Loki said before claiming his mouth in a searing kiss, stopping only when his lungs burned. "I would have you as my own, now and forever. I would make that vow before my father and all Asgard."
"And I vow that on your birthday, for all the rest of our lives, you shall have your kiss," Anthony said, smiling at him as they joined together again.
All too soon, the bells of the clock tower rang, startling both of them back to awareness of the world outside of their bed.
"Was that eight bells?" Anthony asked.
"Indeed," Loki said.
"Damn!" Anthony said, leaping out of the bed so quickly Loki nearly landed on the floor.
"What?"
"The gauntlets! Only an hour remains for the solution to be removed or they will be ruined," Anthony said, hunting for his tunic.
"All that needs to be done is for them to be soaked in a vat of water. There should be plenty of time for that," Loki said, relaxing back against the pillows and doing his best to look enticing. "Come back to bed."
"Peter will be here within five minutes, and when he finds the forge locked, I guarantee he'll all but break down my door looking for us," Anthony said. "Do you really want him to wander in here while we're doing what you're thinking of?"
"Norns, where are my pants?" Loki said, his eyes growing enormous as he all but shot off the bed himself.
"It will be fine. I can put the gauntlets in to soak, send Peter home, and we will spend the rest of your birthday here, in bed, fulfilling your wish over and over again," Anthony said. "Just stay as you are. I want you there, in my bed, looking just like that, when I come back."
"I think I like this plan," Loki said, grinning. "Be quick, yes?"
"Only a few minutes," Anthony said. "I promise. After that…"
Anthony smirked, putting both of his hands to the seat of pants and slapping them rapidly in a wild mimicry of a drum roll.
"You are ridiculous," Loki said, laughing.
"And you love it."
"You know that I do."
He was out the door seconds later, and Loki collapsed back on the bed, not moving for a whole minute before his curiosity got the better of him. He got up and began looking around the room, observing the paintings on the walls, the furniture, the titles on the shelves full of books, none of which he had taken the time to notice the night before. In spite of Anthony's words, he did dress, deciding that a quick stop at the bakery for fresh bread for their breakfast was in order. As it was only next door and the morning was a pleasant one, he decided to walk rather than teleport, opening the door of Anthony's home and strolling through the small garden along a well-worn path that led between the two shops.
All seemed perfect until he heard a scream. His head whipped towards the sound.
"Peter," Loki breathed, recognizing the voice at once and teleporting immediately into the workshop.
What he saw made no sense at first. Peter was standing in the middle of the workshop, sobbing uncontrollably, then he collapsed to the floor.
"Peter, what's happened?" Loki said, crouching beside him.
"I had to!" Peter said. "He had a knife!"
Loki sprang to his feet again and noticed the worktable had been overturned. Obadiah's body was propped against it, lifeless, one of Anthony's spears piercing through his heart and into the wood.
"Anthony!" Loki yelled. "Where are you?"
"He's behind the table!" Peter said, still sobbing. "Obadiah stabbed him!"
Loki threw the obviously dead body and the table to the other side of the room with a flick of his fingers and revealed Anthony lying on the floor, the handle of a knife buried deep in his chest, but somehow, he was still blinking, not yet dead.
"No," Loki murmured, his eyes widening until he looked almost mad, "no, this is not happening. I will not permit it!"
He dropped to the floor next to Anthony, pulling him into his lap and stroking his hair back from his forehead as he spasmed wildly. It took all of one second for Loki to make a decision.
"Peter, look away," he ordered as he opened one of his pocket dimensions and drew forth a dagger, one of the ones Anthony and he had made together for the Einherjar shortly after they first met.
"Close your eyes, Anthony," Loki whispered, his voice ragged. "Do not watch this. Everything is going to be fine."
The handle glowed red from the lie.
Anthony stubbornly kept his eyes open, but there was no time for persuasion. Loki turned the dagger towards himself and without a pause stabbed it deep into his own chest, screaming in pain, but he forced himself to remain conscious. He muttered words of power so strong that he had been loathe ever to utter them before, but now they came easily. After he had exposed his own heart, he gritted his teeth, reached in, and wrenched out the still beating organ, his fingers dripping in blood. With a twist of his hand, he sliced the heart cleanly in two. The pull of oblivion was sapping what little strength he had left, but Loki forced himself to cling to life and cast a spell that made each half into a separate, whole heart. Knowing he had only seconds before they would both be dead, he quickly yanked the knife from Anthony's chest. The other man, whose eyes were wide with horror, groaned weakly as Loki increased the size of the gash and pulled out Anthony's fatally wounded heart, replacing it with the one he had made from half of his own. As unconsciousness threatened to overtake him and the edges of his vision dimmed, Loki shoved his own heart back into his chest and murmured a spell to close both wounds. The skin began to knit back together, but he slipped into darkness, the loss of blood and the drain on his magic too great to bear any longer.