Epilogue - Time to be Found

MABalas

Posted: 11/02/2017

Chapter: 8/8

I was totally planning on waiting to post this, but I couldn't stop writing and it's now midnight and I have work in the morning. Ugh. BUT, this is officially complete. I hope you enjoy and thank you again for all of the faves, follows, and reviews!

Harry watched Loki from where he sat on the cold stone floor. Why did he go along with these experiments?

Loki muttered to himself as he prepared various runes on the walls and triple checked notes. The god had been working on this for years, Harry was pretty sure. At least he thought it had been some years since Loki started obsessing over whatever this ritual was supposed to do. It was hard to keep track of time.

Harry took a deep drink from the cup in his hand and relished the burn of the alcohol. Right, that's why he went along with this. Loki made alcohol strong enough to actually get him tipsy and used it shamelessly for favors.

"This is one of the worst ideas I think you've ever had, and you tried to take over Earth with an alien army," Harry stated plainly.

The disdainful snort wasn't much of a response as Loki kept flitting around the room.

"You're flitting," Harry added. "Flittering?" Harry glanced down at the simple wooden cup. "Merlin's ball sack, what did you put in this?"

Loki laughed at that. The sound, pure and honest, still brought a smile to Harry's face after all this time. Loki had come so far from the mad, broken creature.

"Come, now. Surely you're not frightened of a child's spell?" Loki teased.

Harry frowned at the white lie. Loki had been partaking of the drink as well; it was the only time the god slipped enough for Harry to catch his half-truths. "What are you up to? A child's spell is one thing-but makes me wonder why you spent years on something like that. It's the norse god with a twisted sense of humor casting it where my concern lies. And casting it tipsy, I might add."

Loki scoffed. He began lighting the tapering candles placed carefully around the drawn circle Harry currently sat in-and stayed sitting in, because apparently Harry was an idiot.

"I'm hardly inebriated to the point I can't cast such a simple incantation. And I consider you a friend; I haven't done you permanent harm yet." Loki smirked back while lighting the last candle. He took a step back to observe the circle with a critical eye.

Harry couldn't stop a burst of laughter. "You haven't done me permanent harm because you can't, you arse. You've poisoned me, blown me up, cut off limbs, and decapitated me. All more than once."

"Yet here you are, good as new."

Harry grinned. "Cheeky for a walking icebox."

"Annoying for a reanimated corpse," Loki tossed back.

Harry kept smiling as he took another sip of his drink.

Loki began chanting outside the circle. Harry could feel the magic gathering in the room.

It was refreshing to be able to joke so easily about the things they had once both hated about themselves. Harry felt more at ease with their usual banter.

Harry relaxed and enjoyed the feel of the magic Loki pulled up. The age of the magic here was like a fine wine compared to his Earth's cheap vodka. Both provided the same end results, but there was a flavor to each, different yet not.

Harry's head was fuzzy with the alcohol and some part of him knew this wasn't a simple spell. But a larger part trusted Loki, and trusted his own instincts. Whatever Loki was up to, it wouldn't truly harm Harry.

The magic kept growing around them. It was thick on Harry's tongue, coalescing into a fog in the room. Harry frowned at the gathering power. He twisted to look at Loki over his shoulder.

"Loki? You're going to kill yourself drawing this much power and I'm going to be pissed if I have to fight Death over your soul." It was true. Without life to feed into the balance here the natural magics were destabilizing. "And what will I tell Hela? She finally gets to visit you and I have to explain why you're a shade!" Harry had his own magical core to sustain himself but Loki didn't; the god relied on the weakening magic to keep himself alive. Drawing so much was going to shortcircuit his body. "Stop, Loki. Whatever this is, it isn't worth killing yourself over."

Loki's smile was tired, and it showed his thousands of years of life. The good and the bad. The serious gaze sobered Harry. He carefully set his cup down to face Loki.

"I've lived isolated, alone, and misunderstood, Harry. I pulled you unjustly out of your life, from your friends and home. In my madness I did you a great disservice. I wish to atone for my transgressions. You deserve what I never had the chance to have."

Harry stared at the god. Was he really saying… "Loki?"

"This is the only ritual of its kind. An alteration on my original circle that called and captured you. I want you to be happy, Harry. I find it fitting I can use what once chained you to set you free, friend."

The words echoed like a gong in Harry's mind. Free? What was freedom? Wasn't this-living, learning, exploring their skills-enough freedom?

Loki seemed to read his thoughts. "No, isolated on a dying world in a dying galaxy isn't freedom, Harry. I had freedom, once, as a child, with a brother and mother who loved me dearly. Because of Odin's betrayal I pushed them away and let bitterness control me. Isolation isn't freedom. It was a chance to heal, and now it's time for you to be found, Harry Potter."

The ritual was almost complete. Harry watched the far-too-strong magic gathering. He took in the over-the-top preparations, he thought back on the years of obsessive research, and he wondered what the hell Loki thought he was doing.

This was something new, some of Loki's best work. Harry kept noticing more and more runes carefully placed around the room, lighting as they were activated, holding traces of navigation, location, time, space, and desire carved painstakingly into the walls. They were art in and of themselves.

How had no one ever noticed Loki's brilliance? It was a waste; a mistake on Asgard's head.

But that was all a distraction right now.

"Explain, Loki." Harry stood up and tried to walk to Loki. He bounced off the edge of the circle.

Harry blinked and tried again. It was like walking into an invisible wall.

Loki had the stones to laugh at Harry's confusion. "I did say it was based on my original circle. Hard to give a Gifted their match if they run off."

Bloody. Hell.

Loki had crafted a spell to transport Harry. Space, time, a whole different universe...anywhere.

For his bloody Sentinel.

"You crazy bastard," Harry whispered in shock. He couldn't stop the glance down at his chest where the gray string, an unfound soul match, laid. He had learned to ignore it, but If Loki got this right Harry was going to meet whoever that Sentinel was at the end-and a hell of a lot sooner than planned.

Harry stared hard at Loki, at the god's own gray string leading into the aether, and silently vowed his revenge.

If Harry had to get a kick in the ass to find his Sentinel then Loki sure as a Troll's stink was going to find his as well.

"This is a child's spell, Harry. Nothing but a child's wish for love, acceptance, and understanding. Someone to see them as they are. Not as the world wishes they were, and not as society thinks they should be." Loki's words were soft, as sentimental as they were damning. He paused a moment. "I did include a bit of an adult's draw to the physical comforts," he tacked on with a wicked smirk.

Harry sat abruptly and slumped over his crossed knees, an elbow on one as he pressed his face into his palm. He started laughing.

What else could he do? He could use Death's power to break the circle, but the backlash would rebound on the veritable wall of magic Loki was drawing and would most definitely kill the god. Loki knew that Harry knew that, and knew that Harry wouldn't risk it. Harry could silently hope Loki had miscalculated the ritual and it'd either fail altogether or it'd drop him in some other universe nearby where he could simply step back to Loki.

Or it could work, a traitorous part of Harry's mind whispered. Harry could have his Sentinel. A soul match. He didn't know how he felt about that, to be honest.

Harry was stuck waiting for the ritual to finish. He thought Loki had been amassing enough magic to trigger the spell, but his head snapped up when the magic coalesced into something more.

It hadn't been biding its time to strengthen; it had been searching. And now it had found its target.

The runes flared blindingly bright for a moment, and then the power started focusing ittself as a portal crackled open above him. A wind started in the room, growing stronger as the portal grew.

Harry stared up a it for a moment.

"Is that a wormhole…?" he whispered in slight horror and fascination.

"So it seems," Loki answered. He seemed inordinately proud of himself. "This spell will bring you to the one who will make you happy, Harry. I do hope your Sentinel is up to the challenge."

This was happening. This was actually happening. Harry tore his eyes from the wormhole to stare at Loki. Then he couldn't tear them away from Loki.

Harry could see the strain on the god's face. The lines of pain around his mouth and his trembling legs.

He was killing himself to sustain this ritual.

"Loki, I swear on Merlin's name," Harry snarled at him, "wherever and whenever I end up, if you're still alive after this you idiot popsicle, I'm going to find you and I'm going to send your arse through this ritual myself, and I'm going to enjoy it."

The wormhole kept growing. Harry could feel as it stabilized. He was running out of time.

Harry grabbed a handful of hair in exasperation since he couldn't grab Loki's and shake some sense into him. "I can't believe you plied me with alcohol so I'd go along with this!" Harry thought about that...Loki had been drinking too. "Wait, you're drunk too!"

Harry did a doubletake at the shark-like smile on Loki's face. Sweat was coating his skin now and he was growing paler as Harry watched. A spike of fear sliced through him and he crashed against the circle's edge.

"Loki, you're killing yourself. Stop!"

Tendrils of Harry's hair, grown nearly to his hips, escaped his loose braid in the wind. They kept whipping into his eyes and catching on the piercings he had added to his glamour as he'd gotten bored. He barely caught Loki's cheshire grin through the strands.

"It was necessary to the ritual for you to have your inhibitions lowered." His eyes sparkled with mirth, and Harry knew he was about to say something that would piss Harry off. "And who really plans to die sober?"

"You bloody wanker," Harry snarled, lunging at the god and slamming his fists helplessly on the wall of magic holding him in. "You self-sacrificing idiot! Why?" Harry shouted.

Before he could hit the wall again he was sucked into the wormhole to the sound of Loki's weak laughter.

"Because you deserve it," was the last Harry heard.

Harry woke to the sight of Death perched elegantly above him on a seat of darkness.

Harry frowned. He didn't feel dead.

"I'm not dead," Harry said aloud. Just to make sure.

Death grinned, more felt than seen. "Not this time, Master. You are instead in the between. Neither living nor dead while the Trickster's spell brings you to the end unseen."

It was a weird thought, to know his Sentinel was so far outside of Harry's own universe. Would Harry have met whoever it was naturally, waiting for the centuries to pass, and stumbled onto them? Or would Harry have changed too much in the intervening time and they wouldn't have been a match anymore? Did your soulmate change based on life experiences, or was a soul something too ingrained, too integral to your being to fluctuate so much?

It all made Harry's head ache with the theory of it.

Harry knew it wouldn't do any good to ask Death about his Sentinel. She wouldn't directly influence Harry either for or against them, male or female.

It was simply a waiting game now.

They floated in the between space for some time in companionable silence. Eventually, Harry felt the peculiar tingle that meant he was waking up again. Not the undeniable tug of life, but more like an insistent nudge to wake from a dream.

Death smiled at him as he began to fade. He didn't expect her to speak, so he had to strain to catch the words.

"What mate could match the Master of Death more complete than one most intimate with each breath?"

Harry couldn't even try to follow that logic as he was spat out on the other end of the wormhole.

AN: I will be getting back to Finding Fire before posting anything further in the King series. Both FF and the next in the King series will be my "project" for NaNo this year so expect to see some posting throughout and/or at the end of November!