One thing was for sure.
Something was very strange about the new dream-like-what-ever-it-was he had started to have every bloody day for the last week. And then, when he was free of fog, that was becoming a new thing for him; something else was prone to happen. Of course, it had to happen because Harry Potter's life was never easy.
Honestly, Harry had already started on a very long 'what the hell is happening with him list' so far, it's quite a long one. He took a deep breath and then turned his attention back to the current source of his irritation. Which was sitting on his couch, being a lovely fountain of good comments, and Harry was really close to sending a Hex or to his way.
"Long hair suits you."
"Sod off," Harry dragging his hand through his hair to get it out of his face.
Number five on Harry's fantastic new list was that his hair had decided to start growing like weeds. Gone was his unruly short hair; instead, it now retched his shoulders in raven black trestles The whole situation was beginning to get ridiculous, and it frankly scared him. But at the same time, it was like something was blocking his panic, trying to bubble up to the surface like it was something resembling a lid on his emotions.
It was frustrating.
"It illuminates your beautiful eyes." Ron's voice was rough with laughter even if he refused to look at him and started wandering back and forth again.
Harry felt a shiver go through his body and the way the papers next to him flew away at an incredible speed as he had what must be an accidental burst of magic. Harry stared at the documents on the other side of the room and then back to Ron, who was now openly laughing at him.
"Glad it seems to amuse you, Ron. Can we take this a little more seriously now?" growled Harry irritably, resisting his urge to retch for his wand. He was so incredibly close to hex Ron to the next millennium if he didn't start taking this seriously.
Harry pulled back his annoying hair again and tried to get the tassel to sit in place with a hard jerk, but he failed as it just slid down. And there was another problem Harry had noticed. Han's hair hadn't just suddenly decided to grow, even though he's already taken to both magic and the scissors to try to cut it back to normal along. The next day, it would have grown out again, an inch longer. But whatever he did, it was as if his hair had taken on a life of its own; it refused to remain in the place that would serve as a prison for the thick hair.
His hair was long enough that he could stick it together in a short ponytail at the nape of his neck, but his newly formed bangs didn't seem to understand what he wanted it to do. He had even tried to use spells and charms, but no matter what he did, that horrible hair seemed to have a life of its own. He'd always had messy and wild hair before, but this took the price.
After the war, Harry claimed his titles, both as the lord of the Potters and the Black, as Sirius had put down his name into the next inline when he was a baby. By blood rituals. Something that Harry had never known before he had visited Gringotts after the whole war was over.
Hermione had decided to return to Hogwarts and finish his stud farms. He and Ron had been accepted into the Auror program without any hassle. The Aurors had been happy to have them in their force after everything that had happened, And with their familiarity with the fieldwork, none had any problems passing the exams.
After much consideration, they decided that all three would move into the Potter mansion, which Harry was happy about because it was too big just for him. Sure, he still had Grimmauld place, but there were too many memories of Sirius. And Harry didn't want to admit it. He didn't want to be alone because he would be alone with his mind and thoughts, which wasn't a pretty picture.
Harry suspected that both Ron and Hermione had the same problem, and with the three under the same roof, they felt safer. He could start and relax and not look over his shoulder all the time when Hermione was back at Hogwarts, and Ron made it up the Ministerial with great force.
On the other hand, Harry had no idea what he wanted anymore; after an extra difficult task of gathering Death Eaters, he was stunned and frightened that he felt so empty and indifferent when the man died in front of him. He had stared down at those vacant eyes and felt nothing.
It no longer felt right, and it scared him as he saw it as a part of life, we live, and we die. It was as if something inside him wouldn't listen; he wanted to see them burn and die at his feet. He was pleased that he had shown them he was not powerless. It was as if his heart and brain were no longer in harmony.
After that incident, he decided he needed an extended vacation, which began immediately. Harry had enough wealth now to never work again in his life, so he decided to restore the Potter mansion on his own. It was more like a therapeutic retreat than anything else, making him feel close to his parents.
"Okay, okay, sorry," Ron's voice brought him back to the present, and Harry looked over at him as he raised his hands in a peaceful gesture. Han didn't sound sorry at all that bloody prick.
Bloody annoying Weasleys.
Ron stood up and reached out to him. Which made Harry pause in his path, staring down at his hand, and then look up at him questioningly, with no idea what he wanted him to do.
Ron rolled his eyes, "Hand it over; I'll help you."
"What?"
"Which of us has a sister?" asked Ron, grinning. "I always helped Ginny when she was younger with her hair. It didn't have its own life that yours probably has, but what's new about you being different?" He commented, and Harry sighed dejectedly, ripping off the offended band, and the half-length black hair fell into a mess around his face.
"Just do it," he murmured; this couldn't get any worse than it was. Ron grinned as he walked behind Harry, gathered his hair by hand, then soaked the tassels with water before fastening them tightly,
"There you go, mate. "
Harry fingered the bun in the back of his neck and grinned. It felt weird, but his hair suddenly decided to stay in place
"– This is bloody brilliant!" Harry turned around and walked to the full body mirror, looking at the head and tuft that was now holding it together properly. "How did you do that?"
"Magic," Ron said teasingly, waving his fingers but dodging a pillow that suddenly came flying at him.
"Oh, bugger, come on! You're doing it again," Ron yelped as he ducked from the pillows that were thrown his way. Harry, still standing by the mirror, waved his hand to get the pillow to attack his red-haired friend with a grin.
A yelp was heard as an oversized decorative pillow walloped Ron in the back. Sending him face-first down into the cushions.
"Not fair!"
"I'm not playing fair with those who don't deserve it," Harry said, but he felt sorry for the red-haired man who was now almost buried in the pillows. He looked down at his hand and noticed his shirt was a little longer than it had been. Had he shrunk? Harry fingered the seam for a moment before magically reducing it without any problems.
"Huh," Since when could he perform spell-less magic this well?
Ron crawled, muttered the pillows, and shook his head. "You know, I asked Ginny that once why she didn't fix her hair with magic." Without noticing Harry's thoughtful expression, the redhead said: "She had the same problem as you. It comes from the fact that some individuals leak their magic unconsciously all the time. Have you ever wondered why Hermione has issues with her hair the way she has? "
Harry couldn't exactly say he was even thinking about it, "Good to know. How do we get it to stop growing? "
"Absolutely no idea," Ron said, stuffing a caramel into his mouth as he sank back onto the couch. " Maybe someone pranked you?"
Harry rubbed his face, giving off a frustrating sight.
"No, I don't think that is the case." Why did this happen to him? Why couldn't he just live peacefully and without anything else happening to him? Now he had strange dreams and wild hair that decided to have a life of his own.
In addition, the headache that pounded on his sore skull would soon become his death. He had tried everything; the pain relief potions no longer worked as they used to, and sleep only brought him more pain and strange dreams. He had even started taking the double even to get the slightest effect without any success, it was like his body started to become immune to it or had a will of its own.
"Harry, are you okay?" the redhead suddenly asked, as he had been silent for a while. The previously amused voice was now full of worry for his friend. "You look like you are in pain again; do you need me to pick up Hermione? Maybe it's a new attack?"
Attack, yes, that's what they called the massive headache that popped up and almost swept him in each time. It wasn't that there was always a new dream coming to him when it happened. Sometimes his body burned and hurt as if someone broke his bones and tore his muscles apart, only to pull him together differently.
"No, no, it's fine," Harry said, massaging his temple. He was tired, grumpy, and everything felt wrong right now, and he needed something to make it all go away. He had no idea when the feeling gripped his heart. Everything from his body to his magic felt weird. In addition, he could not eat anything properly and could only live on dry bread and water.
Ron suddenly stood beside him again with his arm supporting him, now looking worried, "Harry, you can barely stand straight," he said, "Maybe you should try to rest a little?"
Harry held back a sigh and gritted his teeth as the explosive pain swept over his eyes. He should probably lie down right now; sleep didn't sound too bad, even with the strange dreams. At least the dreams were nice and interesting, filled with books and learning stuff Harry still could remember as he woke up. Like everything he was in his dream stuck with him as he woke up.
"Rest," the redhead said as he placed a blanket over Harry's body. "I'll wake you up if Herms finds anything."
Harry could only nod as he lay down on the couch, his head hadn't even been laid on the pillow before he drifted away, and a new dream invaded his mind.
. ⬝ : * ̈ ̈ *: ⬝ . 💓 . ⬝ : * ̈ ̈ *: ⬝ .
The room they walked into was huge.
The entire ceiling was decorated with massive gold ornaments; not a single spot on the roof was empty of art or decorations. The far end of the wall was covered with huge windows towering up on the ceiling and down the sides hung heavy red curtains held together with thick golden ropes. At the far end of the room were majestic tables lined up in dark wood and an old gaze filled to the brim with food, pastries, and fruit.
Harald could see that many guests were already in a festive mood, both men and women were all exclusively dressed, and laughter filled the air. There were even some fairies and elves there too. He could recognize their appearance because they had a different attraction to the surroundings than others; it was as if they were absorbing all the light as they moved fleetingly among the guests.
Harald swallowed hard and focused on his parents' backs while they were introduced to court. He could feel burning glances at him, and he could read that most people were curious about them, curious, a little scared, and from some, he even felt a cold corps of threats. He understood why these eyes were on them. His family mainly followed their own and did not often mix with others. However, as part of the legendary creature that they were, there were many preconceived notions and opinions about his people.
Many often saw them as wild animals and monsters, which was valid to some extent. He and his family looked more human due to their high level of magic and rank in their society. They were more potent than other beings and were more sensitive to external forces or energy.
And honestly, Harald hated events like this; he thrived better out in nature and not trapped in a cage of gold. Even if it was only for a short while, a hundred days of festivity? It felt like a universal joke. He wanted nothing more than to blend into the shadows and escape from any gaze he felt directed at him.
In honor of this evening, he wore a long cobalt blue tunic that stretched down over his knees and fastened to his waist with a brown, beautifully decorated belt. He wore a white undershirt under his tunic that floated comfortably over his arms, concealing his soulmate mark.
His jet-black hair sat in an exquisite knot with ornaments around the knot and intertwined in his hair with a red silk ribbon. But even less than an hour since they had fixed his hair, it had fallen off the knot and framed his face, giving him a more feminine look. He could hear whispers all around them as his family went against the royal family to show them respect.
Harald lifted his head and raised his chin to feel more confident than he had to remind himself that he needed to look taller than he was. It was something he hated, how short he was compared to his family or friends. He only went to his father's chin for the sake of goodness, and even his mother was half his head taller than him, but his father had only laughed at his complex and shook his head amusedly. It was a sign that his magical ability had real potential to become one of the most powerful in the nine worlds. Not that he cared about it. He was only annoyed that everyone would depend on a mark to show them what he would become, and honestly, he was tired of it.
It was puzzling and didn't matter much what it was because he was still short and skinny! As well as creating his height complex. He was even shorter than his sister, who was now hovering next to him in a cherry pink slim dress that perfectly fit her feminine curves.
Her silver-gray hair was beautifully braided and fastened with the same pearl ornament he had in his hair. Her eyes were profoundly amber, her lips were red as sun-ripened strawberries, and around her neck was the soft golden band of her soul mark that had yet begun to bloom. All in all, she was a beautiful young woman, and she knew it.
Harald looked at his sister as they walked half-hidden behind their parents, and she gave him an annoyed look back. Seriously, he could even hear her plaintive voice with that look, and her voice rang in his mind that he had to sharpen himself and endure this godforsaken torture. He held back a grimace.
Once they stopped in front of the royal family, they bowed in respect, and when Harald straightened up, he suddenly felt an intense shiver go through him. His brain shut down at the incredible sensation, and Harald slowly raised his gaze to the royal family.
For the first time in six years, his gaze was met by a pair of deep jade green eyes staring straight at him in what Harald could only describe as a shock. His mouth suddenly felt dry, as if all the saliva had been sucked out of his throat, leaving a spoonful of ash instead.
He tried to calm his runaway heart, and those nerves that made the air around him begin to vibrate, and his mark burned intensely. Suddenly, it felt almost impossible to breathe, the jade-green eyes dug deeper and deeper into his soul, and he couldn't tear his gaze away from the black-haired prince.
Harald's suddenly felt his sister's hand pull lightly on his arm, and the spell was broken.
"You're staring," she murmured. "Behave"
He quickly looked at her before looking down and grimacing at her tone. He wanted to snap at her that he had every right in the world to stare at his mate. But he didn't because he didn't have that right.
"You don't need to remind me, dear sister," he muttered back, and she raised her chin up, showing off her elegant neck in response.
As soon as their parents set off to mingle with the rest of the guests and they had to follow suit, and when Harald walked away, he could feel the fiery look on his back. Every step he took away from his mate felt strangely heavy and almost dragging, and Harald clenched his fists behind his back.
He did it again. Harald turned his back on his soulmate and left him voluntarily. But he needed to be social for a while before he could escape, and he also needed to get his emotions under control before exploding slightly and causing the decore to dance to music.
He wasn't made for significant events like this, and his magic flared out to him in steady corpses. But after some time, Harald apologized and pulled away from the floor without seeming rude. Darkness had now settled outside the massive windows, and the doors were wide open to let in the fresh air.
Around the walls were vast tapestries of freshly lit candles as thick as his forearms and probably the same length. It gave the room a vague and mysterious impression and from the large ceiling hung a dozen large crystal chandeliers lit up the dance floor.
He had never understood why a palace needed so much decoration or gold hanging everywhere. But Asgard was well known for being one of the fiercest warrior peoples; living and fighting were in their blood. They were dangerous to their enemies and very protective of their loved ones; it was, of course, a large part of these warriors who made peace possible along with the Valkyria.
Unfortunately, strength had never been Harald's central area, he had trained in the art of war, but his body was not made for bulky weapons or melee. He was the smoother type in his battles; he could defeat his opponents with cunning, tricks, and magic if he had to.
It always fell back to his magic, wild and untamed but ever-present. Harald was a powerful magical being, and no one in his realm denied that he was of royal blood. Funnily enough that his supposed soulmate had the title of god of magic already in his arsenal. Magic was fickle, especially in this kind of event; his magic was more tangible and reactive to even the slightest appearance.
Every century, Asgard's royal family held a grand banquet to celebrate the peace over their world and make new political contacts. The first night was mainly for the younger generation to find their second half or make new friends. The festivities lasted for a hundred days and one night; this was the fourth day of celebrations, meetings, and political events that would occur later in several months. He was sure there would even be competitions to brag about his abilities or have a legal excuse to knock someone to the ground.
Harald nervously pulled on the arm of his tunic. He had seen several guests proudly display their soulmate marks. They were clear for everything and everyone to see in the hope that their chosen one would notice it or show that they had already been taken. But Harald didn't have to show his wrist to the world. He already knew his soulmate, and after today, so did his match. The only question was, how would he dare to meet the Asgardian prince now? After everything and how he had left him?
He hadn't seen Loki once since he'd taken care of him from the brink of death. At first, it was about him being ashamed; he had escaped from his soulmate, the one that was said to be the other half of his soul, his perfect match. And he had been frightened, leaving him to his face or in his brother's care, as it turned out.
But it had then become clear that he would not be able to get away from his kingdom for a while. An awakening of his soul mark had come with a new boost of his magic. Considering that he already had a lot of wild magic before, it didn't help that it almost doubled in a short time, and he had a hard time controlling it.
Even his plan to become heir to death had been put on hold because Death had chosen three Midgardians to take it instead. If this was the desire of faith, then it countered.
Harald let out a heavy sigh and felt his whole body tense. As if he was just waiting to be jumped. He leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes, listening to the strain of happy guests and the music playing.
He had no idea how to deal with Loki. Should he just go ahead and introduce himself? It felt like the most logical thing to do, but the question was just how. The tickling sensation that swept across his arm and back suddenly felt burning, an annoying reminder to see what he avoided, and he bit down.
Harald remembered the tormented and almost betrayed look in his eyes that he had fled all those years before. Would Loki hate him now? Was it already too late? Perhaps he already had a partner he loved and had already forgotten about him?
He took a choppy breath as the reality of his thought struck him. Shit, shit, shit, what was he going to do? What was he going to say? Should he say something? Should he apologize for how cowardly he was? But he had only been a child, and standing up to adult warriors wasn't something he could do in that situation.
He had followed them in the distance to see that Loki was well taken care of and that he had not abandoned his soulmate to his enemy. But the care the blonde mountain of Aesir had given Loki reassured him when they entered the rainbow-colored portal.
Harald sighed heavily and lowered his gaze to the floor again. Maybe he should let it be? His eye was fascinated by the fact that the floor was as beautifully decorated as the rest of the room. The polished stone had small veins of glittering golden veins that glittered under the light of the lamp. He could hear the laughter and music around him but was content to stand in the shadow of the pillar that served as his screen for the outside world as he tried to calm his mind down.
Suddenly, he could see a pair of polished black boots standing right in front of him, and he stared down at them. His shoulders tightened, and he held his breath as he slowly raised his gaze to the longest sleek, and beautifully sewn black pants. He could see the decorative seams crawling exclusively into the structure. He brought in the equally elegant green tunic framed by a black sleeveless coat that was as exclusive as the pants. All in all, it was a complete and beautiful Asgardian ceremonial dress.
His heart pounded in his chest, and his hands felt damp with sweat as he realized that the person in front of him was who he was afraid to face. Harald lifted his gaze quickly, despite the apparent nervousness, all the way up to the handsome face and intense eyes that nailed him to his place when he faced them again, and he was frozen stiff.
His breathing stuck in his throat as Loki stared down at him with a blank expression on his face.
Harald swallowed hard, "My.... prince...". Why was he here? Did he know? No, he could not know; Harald had hidden his mark so that no one could see it. So why did Loki stare at him with that burning gaze? Eyes like a dark forest in its grand prime. Was he angry? he must be, Harald thought as those eyes darkened.
Harald's thoughts were thrown around in his mind, circling his concerns and fears over and over again. But he suddenly became aware that Loki's lips had moved, and he hadn't heard a single word he had spoken.
Harald swallowed hard and opened his mouth to apologize, to ask what he had missed; this wasn't good. He couldn't humiliate another prince, let alone his soulmate! Sure, he was one himself, so death was not an option, but Asgard was the head of the Nine Kingdoms, the supreme ruler of all worlds….
Damn it
"You haven't heard anything I said just now, have you, Prince Harald?" The Prince of Asgard indulged in a low sound of laughter as he looked down at the now-stunned teenager in front of him.
"Should I feel violated?" Loki asked; his voice was dark but, at the same time, one of the softest and nicest voices Harald had ever heard. Before his brain spiraled out of his mind again, Harald swallowed hard and shook his head.
"I apologize," he forced himself out, grimacing at his voice cracking. "That wasn't my intention. I was lost in my thoughts, my liege..."
Loki hummed lowly, " I accept your apology, but on one condition, little one."
Harald bit the inside of his chin. He barely stopped his mouth to say he would do anything to deserve his forgiveness.
"Dance with me. "
Harald stared at him with a half-dead mouth, having no idea how he could say anything about it. He must have heard wrong; Harald felt that his brain had finally stopped working. He must have heard wrong. But when Loki extended his elegant hand to him, he could do nothing but stare at it.
"May I have this dance?" Loki's voice was soft, and he had a captivating smile, and the mere sight of it made butterflies flutter in his stomach.
Harald slowly raised his hand and put it in his partner's waiting hand, a shock went through both of them, and something in Loki's gaze shifted. He received a more contented and victorious look as if this was the last confirmation he needed and his smile reflected his triumph. Loki slowly began to back onto the dance floor, where several people were already dancing in a sea of colors.
Women in beautiful and exclusive dresses and the men with ornate outfits of all their colors moved in time with the music starting to ebb and give a little pause to let people get off the dance floor or stay if they wanted the next song.
Harald was standing opposite Loki, who bent slightly, and when he straightened up, his hand was placed against Harald's waist. The music began to play again slowly, and Harald tried to calm down his beating heart. But it felt almost impossible because his gaze was fixed on the older man's face, who stared down at him as he held him close. Those intense green eyes brought him into an iron grip, almost as if he was afraid he would disappear if he looked away.
Slowly, they began to move softly to the music in a soft circle. Loki's arm resting behind his back led them both in a gentle and elegant motion around the other dancers. The hand on Harald's waist almost burned holes in his clothes. His steps were still hesitant, but Loki skillfully led him around in light circles.
Neither of them said anything while the music began appropriately, and Loki took him lightly aside n, changing the elegant arm that brought him when he came back in his arms and this time much closer than before.
"Relax," Loki muttered, squeezing his hand, "I'm not going to make you fall and make a fool of yourself. "
Harald gave him an annoyed look, easy for him to say! Everyone around them had paused in their dance and was now staring at them openly. Harald began to feel increasingly uncomfortable with the attention on them, and his whole being told her to flee. But simultaneously, the Asgardian prince kept him in a stable and secure grip.
"Just look at me like there's no one else here," he said, taking a step back, pulling with him. "Never mind the others.
Harald made a low snorting sound. "Just look at you? Isn't that a little arrogant to say?" he asked. "Maybe we're going to dance into someone and crash down and make a huge mess. And what makes you think your something to look at?" he couldn't help the nervous rambling, nor did it help that he still didn't understand how he could have ended up in this situation that suddenly felt way over his head. He was no dancer; why had he received his hand?
The young prince's humming made the newly formed lump in his chest vibrate, sending an electric sensation right through Harald, and he held back the blush that threatened to occur.
"It's not me they're looking at, beloved," Loki continued, pulling him away and then taking him back. No, they look at the beautiful spiritually dancing partner I managed to catch in my golden net. "
Harald stumbled over his feet at his words, but Loki was quickly there, catching him and, with an elegant motion, performing a new movement to hide Harald's mistake, looking amused at his smaller dance partner. Harald couldn't stop the hot blush that made his entire face and neck painfully hot this time.
"So, the rumors are true; that silver tongue you have is deadly dangerous," Harald said in a low voice to hide his nervousness. He had to gain some control over himself and his magic before it started to trickle out.
Loki spun around so that his back was pressed against Loki's chest, and Harald could literary feel how the contact sent electrical signals through his entire body when his face was close to his head. Suddenly, he could feel the softness of another magic covering his whole body in a soft blanket, raised in his own. His arms were outstretched while dancing a little slower to the music before they almost reluctantly parted as the magic still lingered between them.
"You shouldn't listen to all the rumors you hear," Loki spoke in a hoarse voice as he held him close, his eyes burning into Harald's own.
"Do you deny that?" Harald asked, shivering as Loki's every breath fell over his neck as he bent his head closer to his, and he must have imagined the feeling spreading within him.
"No"
It felt like his heart was trying to tear itself away behind his sternum. Han's mouth felt as dry as if he had eaten sand, and it was just as hard to swallow. Loki's arm was suddenly behind his back again, holding him close to him. His warmth slid into his back, and he felt his breath contract as his magic received Lokes without questions.
The soul mark sent hot pulses up his arm and chest. The feeling lit a fire within him that he had never felt before. Harald could not find the energy or the will to create larger spaces between them.
He looked up at Loki as he was led around the dance floor, everything around Harald suddenly beginning to fade. He could still hear the music playing in the background but only focused on his dance partner, who smiled down at him.
The tickling sensation spread all over his body, and he was almost drowning in the confident feeling of the magic being created. Loki's face was so close to his now, their breath mixed, and it felt like he was about to drown, and they just kept afloat in each other's arms. The warm air hit his already tender lips, he knew that he wanted them to be pressed against those of his dance partners, and when Loki's eyes flicked down at his lips, he would say he felt the same need.
But the sudden applause brought him back to reality, and in surprise, Harald jerked away from the warm body. He let go of Loki as if he had been electrocuted, with shocked eyes at what he had wanted to do. He gave him a stiff bow before quickly turning around and fleeing the rooms. New dancer sets took their place.
No. No. No, this can't be happening.
What is he doing? how could he let this happen, not now. Harald fled out the massive glass door and onto the porch and into the darkness on the outside. Without further warning, he began walking back and forth on the porch, running his hand through his hair as he had a habit, only to ruin the last of his delicate hair bun.
But it had already done its thing, and it was a miracle that the hair stayed where it had been for so long. He pulled out his tassels and leaned against the stone railing, staring at the beautifully lit maze below the balcony.
He ran his hand through his hair again and shook it out better, his long black hair reaching down to his waist and draping over his shoulders as he tilted his head forward. His heartbeat was painfully stiff, and he grabbed his shirt and bit into it as the blush threatened to spread across his neck and cheeks again.
He'd been so close to kissing him; why had he done that? Suddenly, he felt someone else's presence behind him. The magical scent surrounding him had become as familiar to his senses as his own, even after only bathing in it once, which was almost 5 minutes ago.
Harald closed his eyes tightly but refused to look up or turn around, he both heard and felt Loki getting closer, but he was too scared to look at him. A soft scent of flowers suddenly hit his senses, and Harald opened his eyes in surprise, staring down at a bouquet of forget-me-nots held directly in front of him.
Harald stared down at the blue baby flowers before slowly looking up at the smiling prince next to him. Loki's gaze was dark and intense, but there was something else there, too, something he couldn't put into words.
"A word of warning, little one. I won't let you run away from me again the second time."
Harald's breath stuck in his throat, and he tried to swallow around the lump created there while receiving the bouquet with shaking fingers. He didn't know how to interpret the words, nor did he know what to answer. He could only stare up at the handsome prince's amused face.
Why did he suddenly feel that he was facing a predator that had found its new prey?
"And who says I'm going to run away?" he asked with a challenging look. "But who knows, we might wake up tomorrow, and it's all just been a dream."
"Dream or not," Loki said, letting a hand reach out to Harald's arm, the arm his soul mark was on and took his hand lightly into his.
Without letting go of Harald's gaze, he began to braid up the land that held his tunic together over his arm, and as it slackened, he began almost seductively to pull up the white fabric. All without letting go of Harald's gaze with his. Only when he had exposed his forearm did Loki look down and see the now blooming. Do not forget me decorating a giant golden yellow blub.
Loki gently caressed his skin, and Harald felt a shiver go through him and closed his eyes. But he opened them just as quickly as he felt something wet on his wrist, and a violent blush flared up on his cheeks and neck when he saw Loki first have his lips to the inside of his ankle and kiss the inside wrist.
"At last, I have found you," Loki whispered. "My beloved soulmate"