A / N
Remember that this is rated M for a reason in the next chapter, and if you do not like it, then do not read it. I have also been asked if I would get a beta, I have tried, but no one has replied or had time for it. So if someone of you wants to be my beta, then let me know! We are looking at 11 chapters right now.
So let the story begin! \ - ^^ - /
Harry's slowly opened his eyes and let it drift towards the ceiling above his bed. He blinked a few times, was he still sleeping? No, this was probably his ceiling, not that of his dream, right?. Lately, it had become harder for him to distinguish between the two, and the thought of even trying made his head throb painfully.
So Harry simply let himself drift into the hazy space between dreams and reality for a moment, allowing the sensations to wash over him like waves against the shore. For once, he didn't resist or fight against it; he just let himself be carried along by the currents of his mind.
The feeling of detachment between his dreams and reality had intensified in the past few days as it felt like his reams became more real. More important.
A soft hissing noise escaped his lips as he slowly started to move his stiff body. Bloddy hell, he had been laying in the same posisition for far to long and the ache made him for once feel old. It almost felt like growing pains. Probably was, if theas last days was anything to go by. Harry started to slowly sit up, the bed sheets gathering around his bare upper body as he did.
He stared down at the white fabric, blinking, before he slowly moved his hand and stroked it over the soft cover. Feeling the strings underneath his fingertips before slowly pulling it away from his stiff body. His head pulsed with every movement as he went on to putt his feet down on the ground.
To be honest, the last dream wasn't all that bad. In fact, he might even describe it as enjoyable; there was dancing, vibrant colors, and laughter filling every moment. It was as if the sound of Loki's contagious laughter was still echoing in his pricked at the corners of Harry's eyes and he couldn't understand why. The memories that flooded his mind were not sad, but rather filled with joy, and love. So much love!
It was like watching a romantic novel unfold before him, one that Hermione used to leave scattered around their home. He remembered stealing glances at the pages, secretly enthralled by the story within. Of course, he would never admit this out loud, especially not to Hermione.
Harry groaned as he stretched his arms above his head as every movement hurt, his stiff body protesting loudly. It was pretty strange to wake up as calmly as he had now done.
Harry's magic had always been a source of pride, but ever since the strange dreams began, it had become a burden. His body constantly ached, as if his magic was trying to break free from within. Spells that used to come easily now sparked and sputtered with unpredictable energy. And worst of all, he began to feel a strange sensation deep within him; an indescribable feeling that seemed to pulse with great importance, and significance.
Harry couldn't quite understand it, but he knew it was tied to his magic and the strange visions that plagued his sleep. Something about his dream prince, Loki. Harry groaned again, as he tried to drive that thought out of his mind.
The last thing he needed right now was to fall in love with the imaginary dreamy man, or whatever he should call him. Either way, he would choose the thrilling dream of Loki over the other visions of the war, Voldemort, or see all of his loved ones' dead bodies staring up at him with empty eyes.
The torture he had endured during the early days of the war had left lasting damage on his nerves, especially in his arms and hands. Some nights, he would wake up to excruciating phantom pains shooting through his limbs. But today really was different; for what felt like the first time in ages, he woke up slowly and peacefully at his own pace. It was almost as if his body and brain had finally reached an agreement to give him a day off from their constant battles.
Harry went to the bathroom and continued with his morning routine. But after he'd showered, the towel hanging over his hips and water droplets still rolling over his skin, he got stuck in front of the mirror staring.
Harry's eyes roamed over his physique, noting the subtle changes that had occurred. His hair was now reaching his mid-back, and it was no longer a wild tangle but instead was straight and manageable. As he glanced at his arm, he saw that the flower mark had transformed once again. He ran his fingers along the delicate petals,and over to the peony buds that was nesting in a sea of blue.
He let his eyes travel over the rest of his body, taking in the rest of his scars that were still there. They reminded him of his youth and had began fading to more bright silver colours, which could easily be glamour over. The only thing really standing out on his skin was the text, still red as the day he had received it. The words "I must not tell lies" were still carved on the back of his hand.
Harry snorted as the irony of these words was laughable, considering who now haunted their night every other day. Yes, he was the boy who lived, and he had scars to prove it, and he was proud of who he had become because it could quickly have gone the other way.
Harry shook his head and went out and got dressed for the day. Today was a good day, Harry decided. He wouldn't worry about things he couldn't control, a hard life lesson he'd learned early on. The dreams would come when they would, and the changes too, and Harry had both Ron and Hermione in on this. Between the three of them, they should find something.
He followed an instinctual pull towards the familiar energy that surrounded him. It was yet another strange occurrence in a string of inexplicable events; while he had always possessed the ability to sense other people's presence, now he could feel their energy as well. It pulsed and ebbed within him, revealing not only their physical proximity but also their identity and intentions, like a faint but steady beacon guiding him towards them.
Harry stopped in the doorway of the extensive library. The walls were filled with books and bookshelves towering over him up to the ceiling. A large round window adorned the longest wall, with its glass divided into many different colours and moving images of fairies and flowers shimmering in the sunlight.
Two large magic plants hung with their frame, and small bright spots appeared among the aerial roots. If Harry concentrated a little, it was almost as if he could hear the soft sounds of giggling spirits. Below the window was a large solid table that was as wide as he was long and guaranteed twice as wide, and it looked, and probably was, really heavy.
Harry entered the cozy ambiance of the library, grinning as he approached the solitary woman engrossed in her reading. She was completely absorbed by the book in front of her, so much so that she didn't realize she had company.
"Anything new?" Harry inquired, causing Hermione to leap in surprise. She spun around, heart racing, and instinctively raised her wand, holding it steady in front of her as if ready to cast a spell at any moment.
"Harry!" she exclaimed, startled. "Stop doing that. How many times have I told you not to sneak up on me?" she said, frustration clear in her voice as she shot him an irritated glance and put her wand back in its place.
Harry grinned, not even a little sad that he almost gave her a heart attack. " I lost count?" he teased her.
"Exactly! Then why do you keep doing it? I promise I will spell a bell on you that will never come off. "
"No, you won't," Harry laughed as he approached her, his gait unchanged. The war had left its mark, and his bond with the Hallows only reinforced those ingrained habits. Harry seemed to exude a more subdued presence now, making it easy for people—like Ron and Hermione—to overlook his presence at times.
Hermione stuck her nose up in the air. "Try me…. I dare you."
Harry raised his hand in the universal gesture of surrender, knowing better than to laugh or argue with a woman when she was in that mood. As he glanced at the table before them, he started sifting through her notes and the images she had discovered. After his most recent dream, he had shared the details with her, and Hermione had instantly switched into research mode.
"I've looked up your mark and the flowers you mentioned from your last dream," she began as she pressed a book into his hand.
"Huh, what?" Harry squinted at the tiny text, unsure of where to begin reading or even looking. He looked up at her and asked, "Can't you just give me the gist of it?"
Hermione let out an exasperated sigh and grabbed the book back. "Europe and Asia together are commonly referred to as Eurasia.." She pined Harry with a look as he opened his mouth "- Please, allow me to finish explaining before you interrupt with questions. The term forget-me-not originally derives from the German word 'Vergissmeinnicht,' which raughly translates to 'forget-me-not...'" she read aloud from the book she had reclaimed.
"I already know that, Herms," Harry sighted but made a zipping motion as Hermione glared at him to shut up. Again.
"As I was saying, there's a legend from the Middle Ages about that specific flower. The story goes that a knight and his fiancée were strolling by a river when he picked a bunch of tiny blue flowers for her. Due to the weight of his armor, he suddenly fell into the water. Just before he drowned, he tossed the bouquet to his beloved, yelling, 'Do not forget me.' The flower is linked to romance and tragic fates. Women frequently wore it as a symbol of loyalty and everlasting love." Hermione set the book aside and pulled out another piece of paper.
The whole thing was interesting, for lack of other words, but Harry still had no idea why this was important to them, so he asked. "What does this have to do with the mark?"
"Everything!" Hermione exclaimed as she looked up with sparkling eyes. This was an excellent opportunity for Hermione. She had never thought that she would get the chance to study an authentic soul band. It was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.
"Let me break it down for you. The two different flowers likely symbolize you, and your soulmate. Only soulmates can share a soul mark. The strength and development of the tattoo represent the intensity of the soul connection. Some texts mention this. The more intricate and detailed the image, the stronger the bond between the two people must be. The two sides will be drawn closer until they unite completely. Once the mark is fully merged, you'll be linked for eternity. Isn't that romantic?!" Hermione beamed, barely suppressing a squeal.
"This ancient soul magic is thought to be exclusive to the old families, which is why there isn't much information available unless we consult Malfoy, or check the restricted section of the library. Have you had any more dreams?" she inquired.
Harry stared down at the flowers on his arm. She had lost him almost at the end of her explanation. Did he really have a soulmate somewhere? Were the dreams a clue or just something his tired brain concocted?
"Harry?"
" Hm? " Harry looked up from his mark as Hermione's voice startled him, "Ah, yes, sorry, yeah, I had another one. But I don't think it makes any sense. I want to know how the dreams change me or why my hair grows uncontrollably, not that this-." He shook his arm. "It is only another thing that will make me stand out more."
"Well," Hermione says, "Magic doesn't usually do anything without a good reason," Hermione pounded a finger to her chin.
"But why do I have these dreams, Mione? Every time I wake up, I feel something new. I remember something that I physically shouldn't remember." Harry ran his fingers through his hair frustratedly.
"And it's not just that. I can feel my body changing more and more. When all this is over, will I still be me? Or is it the one in my dreams that will take over?" Would he stop being him? Stop being Harry? And lose themselves in the memories that forced their way more often.
Hermione paused, her hands frozen in mid-action, and turned her gaze towards him. A pang of guilt washed over her as she realized she hadn't considered his concerns as much as she ought to have. Yet, his words resonated with a certain logic; why were the dreams happening? She began to mumble under her breath, a habit that only heightened his anxiety, as he struggled to keep up with the rapid-fire thoughts racing through his brilliant friend's mind.
"Speak English, please," Harry sighed. He had a mental breakdown, and she was of no help.
"What if we've been viewing it incorrectly?" she pondered aloud, not pausing for a response. "Could it be a past life experience? I believe I came across something about it in the soulbond magic section here. But surely, your transformations must come with some….guidelines, right?"
"What?" That was all Harry could manage to say. His sister had clearly gone off the deep end. He gaped at her as if she had lost her mind. It couldn't be true, especially since they had already determined that it was Loki—the mischievous and magical god—appearing in his dreams. Harry never thought pursuing a god was sensible, especially since gods were supposed to be immortal, right?
"It's not possible."
"No, no, no, Harry, hear me out. It all adds up. You have a soul mark on your arm, which is incredibly rare, and your dream started right when you got that mark and your other changes. It's believed that soulmates track each other's souls even in the afterlife; they're essentially made for each other. It's like two halves of one soul split into two bodies, needing each other to stay balanced. They're constantly drawn to one another, and only together can they be complete. Maybe you're starting to remember, and your body and soul are attempting to reunite. It all makes so much sense now."
"No, it doesn't," Harry said, rubbing his forehead.
"Yes, Harry it dose, listen," Hermione walked around the table, picking up a parchment she had put away earlier. "Remember that part of the prophecy. And the Lord of darkness shall mark him as his own, but he shall possess a power that the Dark Lord does not know. What if it didn't just mean the sacrifice of your mother's love? You've always had a greater affinity for magic than anyone I've ever heard of. You managed to kill a man that not even an adult, training Auror, could do. And the Hollows choose you to become their master, and you are called the master of death".
"Not by choice," Harry muttered, sensing a throbbing in his forehead, likely signaling the onset of another dream attack.
"I know," she said hurriedly. "But you must realize that magic has always favored you, Harry. Maybe this is how magic, and destiny are rewarding you for your actions?."
He snorted and shook his head. "When has fate ever been kind to me?" he said, reluctantly acknowledging that there was some truth in what she said, even if just a little. "And how could someone like me possibly have Loki as a soulmate? thats crazy!."
"No, it isn't," she replied, turning towards him. "Death is about maintaining balance." Harry nodded in agreement. "And Loki isn't only the god of evil, deception, and magic; he is also known as the god of chaos."
Harry settled onto the couch and rubbed his aching temples. "I'm almost afraid to ask, but how does chaos fit into all of this?"
"Few realize that chaos can lead to the creation of new things and situations. If Loki is the god of chaos, then he's also a god of creation. Chaos doesn't necessarily result in destruction; it can balance things out."
"English, Hermione, please—my head is pounding, and I can't deal with complex words right now," Harry pleaded, squinting as the light intensified.
"To create chaos, balance is essential. Achieving balance in life requires death. You are the embodiment of Death, Harry, which means he represents life."
Harry leaned back on the couch, releasing a frustrated groan. "Why can't anything in my life be straightforward? I wanted a break to renovate the mansion, not to transform myself, and invite more chaos into my life."
Hermione approached him, conjuring a cool, damp cloth and placing it on Harry's feverish forehead. "I think you have to accept that, and it seems Magic has more in store for you than just the changes you're currently experiencing. Maybe there's a deeper significance? You need to think wisely for a change. I know that its hard for you"
"Love you too," Harry murmured ironically.
"Oh, I know," Hermione said without looking at him as she returned to her books. "Aren't you going to try to eat something? Maybe try the soup? "
"Tried, no luck there," he said, holding a pillow over his head that now felt like it was about to catch fire.
He still couldn't hold down more than a little dry bread and water. It was as if his whole body had decided to act against him no matter what he did so he would take the easy way out. And a day without vomiting was a good day for him. He could feel Hermione's burning and worried gaze, but he ignored it and massaged his temples again. He more or less had memories of a completely different life, and it made his head explode. It was almost as if he had the lives of two people imprinted on the same small space.
On the one hand, he was Harry Potter, the legendary boy-who-lived, the fearless hero who had vanquished the dark lord Voldemort and delivered the entire English magical community from the clutches of his malevolent tyranny. But in what seemed to be, if Hermione was right and she often was, his first life, he was Harald. And Harald was a noble young prince of the ethereal realm of Álfheimr.
Harry discovered that Harald belonged to an ancient and majestic race known as the Ljósálfar, the Light Elves, renowned for their extraordinary magical prowess and luminous grace. Whose life was the exact opposite of Harry's. He had a happy, and lovable childhood. Parents who loved him, a snotty sister who seemed to talk down to him a lot, but the freedom to choose what he wanted. And if he was, to be honest with himself, he was a little jealous of Harald's life.
"Harry, maybe we should contact St. Mungo's?" Hermione asked nervously as she sat down next to him. "I'll do my best, but if you can't eat or the headache worsens..."
"No, I've been through worse, and I can still drink without a problem. I think I can wait a little longer." There was no way he would go to the hospital, only for them to label him insane and unstable.
She was silent momentarily before nodding slowly, not that he could see it. "Okay, we'll wait. If you don't get better soon, you will see one of the helers. Right? "
Harry made an affirmative sound; he could live with that. He felt the headache pulse against his temples in time with his heartbeat, and he didn't open his eyes again. Hermione fixed the pillows behind her back so she could sit and keep him company while she continued reading.
The soothing sound of turning pages made Harry relax more and more; he couldn't help but, despite everything that was happening to him right now, be curious about what he would se next. It was almost like he had the first seat for some sappy romantic movie. He just hoped the dreams didn't end in tragedy and that the legend of forget-me-not was only a story.
Before he knew it, he began to sink into nothingness as the pain grew too much for him to bear, and if he cried, Hermione would not hold it against him. Why couldn't he have a single typical dull and ordinary day?
.⬝:*¨¨*:⬝.💓.⬝:*¨¨*:⬝. .⬝:*¨¨*:⬝.💓.⬝:*¨¨*:⬝.
Harald wandered through the corridor reserved for the royal family. He wasn't quite sure how he had ended up there. Once Loki had informed his parents about whom he had discovered, he had been sent to a different part of the castle to spend some time and 'get to know' his new mate and their family.
Harald was overwhelmed with emotions, and his ears were still ringing from his mother's nagging voice. Why hadn't he said anything? How could he act this way! She wasn't about to let him quietly leave without him knowing of her feeling. So muck regretful feeling all becouse she would not have any more time to organize the grand event of marrying off a royal family member. Now, she would have to seek assistance from her sister, which his mother found nearly disgraceful.
Oh, Norn's help him, he was utterly doomed. Why was this even crossing his mind at such a moment? He had just met Loki, and while there was undeniably something special between them, he couldn't shake the feeling that he might be taking the other man for granted. Yet, despite his reservations, he couldn't help but feel a thrill at the thought of their impending courtship.
But right now he needed to have a change of envoriment. There of his excursion through the many corridors of the palace. He had actually heard that there was a special courtyard around here somewhere
In nature was where he truly belonged. It was where he found his peace and balance. However, nature, like his magic, could be unpredictable and untamable. After being cooped up inside for so long, he relished the serenity of the outdoors. And the palace gardens offer a sensory delight.
Ancient trees whisper with leaves that shimmer between shades of gold and emerald, their branches forming cozy alcoves ideal for private moments. The air is filled with the sweet scent of otherworldly flowers that bloom in unimaginable colors, some softly glowing in the perpetual twilight.
On the far side, a magical fountain produces crystalline music as its waters flow, and the pathways seem to shift and change like living entities. The gardens are alive with visible magic—threads of light occasionally dance between plants and structures, causing spontaneous blooms of flowers in response to powerful emotions.
He strolled leisurely along the excavated path, absorbing the essence of his surroundings as he wandered through his thoughts. Bumblebees and bees buzzed among the blossoms, accompanied by a few fairies who watched him, giggling and twirling around him.
A pleasant tingling had travelled over his where the mark had begun to develop again. Like the feelings of his counterpart, the flowers had reacted to the new development.
He looked down at his right arm, now visible to the outside world. After he had accepted the bouquet of forget-me-not by Loki, he had also accepted his courtship, so there was no way he would hide it.
So far, he had not regretted his decision.
Loki had been searching for him all along, but the magic had shielded Harald fom Hemdals gazing eyes, because at that moment he hadn't wished to be found. It was a small oversight by the young elf, but in his defense, he was merely a child at the time.
Following that night on the balcony, they spent every day together, simply conversing and learning about one another. Harald gently stroked his fingers over the mark. It now went up to his elbow and little blue forget-me-not-adorned entire forearm. Between them grew golden peony buds closest to his elbow, which had begun to beat as feelings for Loki began to germinate. He caressed his fingers over the last flower and could almost sense its texture, like the one he held in his hand.
Suddenly, a warmth blossomed in his chest, causing him to shiver. He wasn't sure why, but he couldn't help but smile as the magic continued to dance along his arm. The mark kept tingling, and he watched in awe as a forget-me-not changed to a vivid blue before his very eyes. His heart pounded intensely with the possibilities this could signify, and he struggled to hold back the tears that threatened to spill.
Why was he so annoyingly emotional?! This wasn't like him, but the feeling growing within him couldn't just be his. No creature alone could create so much love, and he felt emotionally unbalanced.
He could still hear the loud songs and laughter of fellow creatures and Aesir along the city's streets, hiding behind the walls.
They were now on Day 70 of the festivities, and he was starting to get tired and feel more and more trapped. Hence his escape to the garden. In those few days, Loki had managed to nestle closer and closer to him. Furthermore, Harald found himself yearning for the next encounter with the astute and resourceful prince. He was eager to hear about how the prince's day had unfolded, a tapestry woven with the threads of political intrigue, vibrant festivities, and peculiar conversations.
Harald wanted to delve into the prince's experiences, to be entwined in the fabric of his life in a way he had never been before. Was he mad to desire such closeness? There was another thing that Harald could not understand. What was the matter with the Asgardians and their need to party and drink themselves helplessly? Harald stopped under the low branches of the hanging birch, leaned his head against the trunk and closed his eyes.
Sensing he was being watched, he swiftly opened his eyes and gazed contentedly at the red fox in front of him. "What am I seeing? A fox, yet not just a fox? Should I be concerned about being taken by some entity?" he asked with amusement, recognizing the familiar energy of his future mate in any form it might take.
The fox let out a soft, high-pitched yap and fixed him with piercing jade-green eyes that seemed to see right through him. "What have you done this time?" Harald asked, with a hint of mischief in his voice.
In the blink of an eye, the fox transformed into the black-haired prince who had haunted his thoughts since the moment he awoke. The change was seamless, like the flicker of a shadow in the midday sun.
Loki's lips curled into an innocent smile that belied the mischief dancing in his eyes. "What makes you think I even did something?" he replied, his voice as smooth and silky as velvet. It was clear he had been up to something, his demeanor too practiced, too charming.
"Is it because you're being obvious?" Harald questioned, raising an eyebrow.
"Me, obvious? My dear, you must be confusing me with my brother."
"Forgive me, Lord Thor. I wasn't aware that you were plotting mischief when you aren't busy chasing after a lovely lady."
"Me? Running after some random damsel in distress when the real treasure is right here in front of me? Hardly believable," Loki remarked, gazing down at his companion with a playful glint in his eyes, struggling to maintain a serious expression.
Harald chuckled as a comforting warmth spread through his chest, making his heartbeat quicken. "So, who was the unfortunate representative enduring it today?"
"No, it was a joint effort there. Though, it might depend on perspective and how hard they try to stifle their laughter."
"Loki..."
Loki grinned at his little mate, pulling his slender body closer to his. "Only one of those old hens who can't stop her cackling when the others tried to talk. Can now say that she will start cackling everytime she will interrupt someone. "
Harald stared up at him with surprise written on his face as he tried to imagine one of the elders cackling like a hen. He started laughing, hid his face in the soft tunic of Loki, and shook his head as he continued to chuckle at the mental image.
"You're impossible, you know that, don't you?"
"Thank you. I'm doing my best."
Harald grinned and gazed at him once more, sensing Loki draw him nearer as warm fingers traced gentle circles on his hips. He attempted to suppress the delightful sensation that their touch ignited, swallowing thickly as his eyes wandered over Loki, who was now so near.
The thick black hair hung over his shoulders and curls at the end, and the deep jade green eyes were pulled down to his lips and then went back up to his gaze.
Harald felt a warm flush spread over his throat, ears, and cheeks, and internally scolded himself for the obvious blush. Loki had already noticed and was gazing at him with an amused grin.
"You seem a bit flushed, little one," Loki remarked, his smile making Harald's legs feel weak.
"It's... warm in the sun," he said quietly, averting his eyes.
Harald flinched slightly in surprise as Loki lifted his hand, brushing his fingers against his temples and tracing down to his cheek. The cool touch of Loki's fingers felt like a refreshing breeze against his warm skin. Harald had to muster all his self-control to resist leaning into the touch and savoring it further. The fingers glided beneath his cheek, gently guiding his head upward until their viridian green eyes locked with jade.
"We're in the shadows, no sun here love. Do you want to try some new lie?"
Harald found himself unable to respond. Loki was incredibly close, just about a decimeter away, and Harald scarcely dared to breathe. He sensed their magic brushing against each other, cautious and exploratory. Suddenly, Harald felt the urge to cling to something, so he leaned forward, grasping Loki's hand and pressing it to his cheek. A warm sensation spread beneath his skin as his magic embraced Loki's, as though it were his own, a golden aura wrapping around them like a comforting blanket. He lifted his gaze to meet the intense eyes gazing down at him. The air around them hummed with energy.
He wanted to see more, to have more, to feel more. The longing had been dormant for too long, a quiet whisper now growing into an insistent roar. Before Harald could even comprehend the impulse, he found himself leaning closer, their lips meeting with an unexpected urgency.
The kiss was unlike anything he had ever experienced. Harald pressed his lips harder against Loki's, as if trying to convey all the unspoken yearnings and pent-up emotions with that single act. Everything around them blurred out of his mind; it was as if Loki was a gravitational force, pulling all his attention inward until there was nothing else but the two of them in that moment. This explosive connection caught him off guard but felt undeniably right—as though this newfound attraction made perfect sense amidst the chaos of feelings swirling within him.
For years, Harald's imagination had run wild, and it required all his self-control to contain the intense emotions bubbling inside him. He had been yearning for this moment for a long time. He could make this meaningful, proceed slowly, and do it right. Harald opened his lips, and Loki saw it as an invitation to explore his mouth with his warm tongue.
Harald sensed Loki's warmth despite their contact being only a kiss. It felt like the air around them was alive with energy, and he longed to wrap his arm around Loki. He was caught off guard when Loki abruptly broke away, and the mere idea of the kiss ending there made him emit a dissatisfied noise.
Loki chuckled softly, his gaze filled with amusement, making a betraying warmth spread across Harald's face. The jade-green eyes seemed to search his own, as if they were probing for something deeper, perhaps his very soul. It was as though Loki could peer right into it effortlessly. This made Harald feel exposed under the intense scrutiny, especially when Loki lifted his hand once more, brushing his cold fingers against Harald's lower lip.
"So eager, but don't worry. It's just a taste of what I have to offer," Loki hummed, creating a new wave of pleasure through Harald's body.
Harald made a soft noise, but before he could speak, Loki's lips pressed against his once more in a fervent kiss. His lips parted instantly, and he felt Loki's presence in his mouth in a way he had never imagined, unable to suppress the sound that escaped him.
The kiss deepened, and Harald found himself surrendering to the moment, his arms wrapping around Loki's neck while their bodies pressed together. He could feel every inch of Loki's body against his own, the hardness of his muscles and the coolness of his skin sending shivers down his spine.
Their tongues danced and caressed each other in a rhythm that felt like a natural extension of their connection. The electricity between them was palpable, growing stronger with each passing second. Harald couldn't believe how good it felt to have Loki's lips on his own, moving in perfect harmony.
As they broke away for air, Harald looked into Loki's eyes once more, searching for any hesitation or doubt. But all he found was a fierce determination that matched his own.
"I've been waiting for this for too long," Loki whispered against Harald's lips before kissing him again, harder this time.
Harald could feel the intensity behind those words as Loki's hands traveled down his back, pressing him closer. It was as if they were trying to merge into one being in that moment. And as much as Harald tried to resist it, he couldn't help but give in completely.
His mind was filled with nothing but Loki—his scent, his taste, the way he made him feel alive and electrified with every touch. Every sense seemed heightened in that moment; he could even hear the sound of their breathing mingling together in perfect harmony.
Loki finally pulled away and rested his forehead against Harald's. They both panted heavily as they tried to regain some semblance of control over themselves.
Harald abandoned any attempt to maintain anything resembling control, and his hands looked up into his silky smooth hair to push him closer.
Cold, strong hands found their way under his shirt, causing it to go up enough for Loki's hands to move over bare skin. He could feel Loki's smile on his lips and felt the arousing sensation as his fingers stroked along his side.
"What are you doing to me, my love? I lose all sense of control the moment you're near," Loki murmured as he kissed Harald's forehead.
Harald couldn't help but chuckle, "Maybe that's exactly what I'm after?"
Loki sighed, "Don't provoke me, you mischievous fae."
The words sent a shiver down Harald's spine. He had never been one to shy away from a challenge, and he could tell that Loki was, at heart, a man who loved to be challenged.
He gazed at the older man, his eyes sparkling with mischief, while Loki's eyes narrowed in response. "Or what?" Harald asked in a sweet tone, his finger tracing a path along Loki's bare arm.
Loki couldn't help but feel a surge of desire at Harald's touch. He leaned in closer, his lips millimeters away from Harald's ear. "Or I might just have to show you who the real mischief-maker is," he whispered, his voice low and seductive.
Harald's breath hitched, and he couldn't help but let out a quiet moan at Loki's words. He loved this side of Loki—the confident, dominant one who knew exactly what he wanted.
But Harald also didn't want to give up control so easily. He pulled away slightly and looked into Loki's eyes with a challenge in his own. "And how do you plan on doing that?"
Loki smirked and leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest. "You'll have to wait and see," he replied cryptically.
Harald couldn't resist the opportunity to provoke him further. "Oh, I see. So it'll be a surprise then?" he teased, leaning closer once again.
Loki chuckled and shook his head. "All in good time, my love." And with that, he captured Harald's lips in another passionate kiss.
Their bodies pressed together as their tongues danced and hands roamed freely over each other's skin. Harald could feel himself becoming more and more lost in the moment, forgetting all sense of time or place.
Unable to keep the low moan of the kiss, he made a surprised sound when Loki suddenly put his hands to his thighs, just above the crease of his knees, and lifted him to the hard surface of the tree.
With the smooth movement, Harald wrapped his legs around Loki's waist to stay up, feeling the kiss become more profound and the spirit leave him for a second. He had ended up higher up in this position, giving Loki direct access to his neck as their lips had been separated.
A gasp left him, and he bent his head to the side to give him better access to the light skin under the collar. Loki pressed harder against him, an unmistakable bulge in both pants that clearly showed they were enjoying themselves. Harald locked his arms around Loki's neck and pressed himself against him so their hardness rubbed against each other.
He let out an unexpected yet delighted noise when Loki's teeth grazed the tender area beneath his chin. He sensed Loki's chest rising and falling rapidly as he nestled his head into Harald's neck. The warmth of his breath sent tingling sensations through his sensitive nerves. As he ran his fingers through Loki's shoulder-length hair, a contented hum followed, and he felt Loki's embrace tighten around him.
They stood there for a while, the magic vibrating around them like a warm blanket, and Harald could even see the flowers at their feet that hadn't been there before, and he let out a low laugh.
If this happened with just one kiss, what would their magic come with as they became more intimate? The mere thought made his heart jump, and a new warmth spread through his veins.
In an instant, the air was shattered by the sound of Loki's name to be called out by the one god whose voice alone could command an entire army to snap to attention. It was the piercing, authoritative voice of his mother that reverberated through the garden, shaking them to their core.
"Someone's in trouble." Harald murmured, tilting his head slightly to glance up at him.
"Quiet, we're invisible," Loki murmured back, embracing him more firmly. Harald struggled to suppress the laughter bubbling up as he wrapped his arms more snugly around his partner's neck.
"Oh, Norns, she's going to kill us. "
"Oh no, my dear, she won't. She adores you, so you escape with just a light smack. But as for me?" Loki remarked, planting a kiss on the pulsing vein of Harald's neck, causing him to shiver with delight and smile with a playful glint. "She'll likely hang me out to dry and use my balls as Yule decorations in the throne room, so keep quiet," he whispered, pulling the smaller man closer. Harald stifled a laugh, covering his mouth to prevent any noise that might attract the already irate queen.
As they waited for the queen to pass, Harald couldn't help but feel a mixture of dread and exhilaration. Dread at the thought of facing her wrath, but exhilaration from the stolen moment he had just shared with Loki.
He buried his face into Loki's shoulder, taking in his comforting scent and feeling his warmth against him. He could hear Loki's steady heartbeat, a calming rhythm that helped ease his nerves.
After what seemed like an eternity, the footsteps faded away and they were left alone again. Harald lifted his head from Loki's shoulder and pulled back slightly to look into his eyes. There was a mischievous glint in them that made Harald smile.
"Yule decorations in the throne room, huh?" he teased, unable to resist poking fun at the still serious-looking god.
Loki chuckled, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "Oh yes, she has quite the sense of humor when it comes to punishing me."
Harald couldn't believe it. It was difficult to picture someone as formidable as Frigga showing mercy, especially towards her playful son. Yet, she undeniably adored him.
"Well then," Harald said with determination in his voice, "let's make this moment count."
With that, he pulled Loki down for another kiss. This one was slower and deeper than before as if they were trying to take in every sensation and emotion that came with it.
A / N:
Gash, Yeah, I'm sappy, and a hopeless romantic, and I love it! And I love to edit this stuff, and for you to enjoy it as much as I do. I wrote this story for my pleasure and to practice my writing. Just a heads up next chapter will be a little more heated
Funny fact:
A yellow flower means roughly "you are the sun in my life," and a pinkone means "I'm in love with you and promise to be faithful." So imagine that the two colors in one likely means "you are the sun in my life, and I'm in love with you and promise to be faithful to you."
Peony: I lie at your feet and swear to you, my eternal love
Forget-me-not: This flower has long been considered a memory flower of love or friendship. It can also mean, "Open your heart to love." The small history, in the beginning, is all real history about the forget-me-not flower ;)