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Harry landed with a loud thud on the floor, glancing around him as he took in the surrounding great room. He rolled with his landing on the smooth floor beneath him, skidding a little bit. It was a beautifully built room, more of a circular dome than anything. The golden room glittered in the light that filtered in from the opening. With an opening that spilled out into a bridge and a rainbow bridge at that. And… “Where am I?”
“Oh, you would be in Asgard.”
Harry startled and turned around, a hex on the tip of his tongue, his heart skipping a couple of beats. The man that stood behind him was armored, with no helmet on, and a big sword in hand. The guy had a head of short black hair, with dark eyes, and the look he gave Harry was confused to say the least.
“Who the fuck are you?”
“Who the bloody hell are you?” Harry asked, tilting his head in bemusement as he spotted the pair of automatic rifles tucked up against the wall. “And where am I?”
“Asgard, dumbass. And I’m Skurge. Don’t you know? How’d you get here?”
Harry paused for a breath before taking a step over to the one exit and entrance, peeking out at the bridge and beyond. His eyes widened as he looked out at the golden city in front of him, maybe a mile or two away via bridge. “Asgard. Huh.”
“What’s your name so I can announce you?”
“My name’s Harry. Announce me? Who would you announce me to? I’m not gonna--”
“You’ll probably want to see Odin. The king wants to see any unknown guests or visitors to our esteemed capital. Let me go with you.”
Harry blinked and watched as Skurge charged off at a run across the bridge. His heart had skipped several beats at Skurge’s words but. “Odin?”
He padded off to follow the guy hesitantly but feeling willing to roll with it. When he’d left his Earth, he had been bored but perhaps that was about to change. And Odin… He glanced down to where that name had appeared on his skin two years ago, following the other nicknames his soulmate had been called throughout the years. Odin was a fairly lowkey one but it was still… His soulmate was… uh… getting around, some would say. Harry snorted at the thought and wondered what nicknames were on his soulmate’s skin. “Hey, wait! Is Odin a name or a nickname?!”
The guy paused a few feet away, panting for breath, and looked at him like he had grown a second head. “Of course it’s a name! Odin’s our king! Where did you grow up? Under a rock?”
“No.” Harry sighed and followed Skurge as they ran across the rainbow bridge. He glanced up every so often to see small ships flying above them, in several different sizes. “Isn’t there a faster way to get across the bridge? Like flying? Or driving a car?”
Skurge stopped and caught his breath, sucking in shallow breaths like he was running a marathon. “Not for us plebs. Thor can though. With that hammer of his.”
Pleb. Huh. Harry had never been called that before. He snorted in amusement and his gaze flicked over to the pair of rifles tucked against the wall.
Harry blinked in confusion even as Skurge started off again, his heart skipping a beat. “Thor?”
“He’s… been gone for the past few years! Odin told him that he could leave Asgard!”
Harry shivered as he followed Skurge, keeping at a slow jog over the beautiful bridge. It faintly chimed with each footstep he took, lighting up under his feet. So he was in Asgard with Odin, Thor and…
“How the fuck did I get here then?” Harry questioned, taking in the sight of the city that they were fast approaching. He paused and walked over to the edge of the bridge to look over the side of it, his eyes widening at the sight below. There was a shit ton of water under the bridge, which came to a stop right under the room he had landed in. An edge. Harry laughed a little hysterically at the sight, seeing the edge and remembering the few times he had run into people who thought the earth was flat.
Skurge skidded to a stop and stood there panting, his breathing shallow and fast. “The fuck do you mean?”
Harry shrugged and gestured for him to go on. “Eh. It’s not like I really care. Lead the way.”
Skurge stared at him like he was pondering whether or not Harry was crazy before he ran on. Harry followed him at an easy pace, watching as the Asgardian ships flew past them occasionally. He’d read the occasional bits and pieces of Norse myth here and there over the years but seeing as how he could hear the quiet chiming of the Rainbow bridge as they ran over it and the way Skurge acted like Thor and Odin were real…
They ran for a good fifteen minutes, ending up at the start of the bridge. The Golden Palace stood about a mile away, maybe more, and it towered over everything. Harry took a minute or two to stare up at it, seeing Skurge run towards a hover ship out of the corner of his eyes.
“Oi! Get on!” Skurge yelled, directing the hover boat towards the palace, standing at the helm.
Harry ran over and jumped aboard to lean against the railing, taking in the view of Asgard from above. Skurge’s breath was loud and shallow, still recovering from the run, perhaps not as fit as Harry was.
There were clouds in the sky and a soft breeze curled around the hover boat as they drove, making it a very nice day. He idly wondered if Asgard got bad weather or if they got seasons at all. A small part of him wanted to run back to the edge and look over it, wondering what it looked like. Wondered where the water flowed to.
When they got to the palace, Skurge landed the hover boat right in front of the big building and parked it. Harry took a breath, unsure if he should be nervous or not and deciding on not, followed Skurge’s lead, taking in the sight of the guards stationed at the giant entrance doors.
Their helms were horned and golden, matching just about every other piece of architecture around. The buildings and homes they had passed looked as wealthy as homes on earth but they had more of a medieval edge.
Skurge gestured on ahead and ran, passing several sets of guards on the way. The guards glanced at Harry before nodding to him, their expressions mostly blank as he jogged past them.
There were crowds of people ahead of them in the hall, in what looked like a meeting room. It was big and golden and swooping, with the ceiling very high up, almost like it reached the sky.
He could hear people talking amongst each other, ladies and lords of Asgard gossiping about shit that Harry didn’t particularly care about or for. This wasn’t his home. It’d probably just be a waypoint on his travels to nowhere, a peculiar one, but a waypoint nonetheless.
“Go ahead, Skurge,” one of the guards called, pointing forward. “The king’s free.”
Skurge nodded and nudged Harry forward too, edging past the men and women who were dressed in robes and other loose garments.
Harry skidded to a stop as soon as they were past everyone else, staring up at the throne. Another golden piece of architecture that roughly matched the man who sat on it. Old and grey, with long grey hair and an eyepatch. Old and powerful. His one visible eye stared intently at Harry, zeroing in on him even though Harry wasn’t even a citizen of Asgard. The king’s golden robes covered his entire body, spread out on the throne with ease.
It made him feel distinctly underdressed in his shirt and pants, a soft red cloak over his shoulders. As soon as the king took interest in him, silence reigned over the hall like dominos falling.
“Skurge, who have you brought here?”
“Your Highness, this is Harry Potter. He just landed in the Observatory,” Skurge said, gesturing to Harry from where he was next to him. “You asked me to bring anyone unknown to you.”
“Indeed.”
Harry stared right into the king’s visible eye, idly wondering if he could see through things. Or see into Harry’s soul or some shit like that. Faint chatter filtered through his ears from behind him and he just ignored it.
“How did you come to be here?” Odin questioned, tilting his head slowly.
“My magic brought me here,” Harry offered, blinking at the thought and then nodding. “Yeah. Because I don’t know what else did. Could have been my feet I suppose. That’s usually how travel works these days, right?”
The king appeared to do a double take at Harry’s words, his eye widening.
“Your magic?” Odin echoed.
Now the faint chatter grew louder and he could hear people take a few steps back.
Odin stood up and gathered up his robes, stepping down to be at eye level with Harry. Odin was as tall as him but he seemed a little hunched, a little quiet. There was no one else with him, standing next to him. No apparent advisers.
“You’re Odin. Don’t you have magic too?” Harry asked, shrugging and turning around to survey the now silent crowd behind him. “What, is magic a bad word now?”
The citizens all stared at him, with expressions that ranged from suspicion to hate. Harry winked at a few of them, seeing the men turn red and the women scoff at him.
“Magic is thought of as woman’s work,” Odin offered, as Harry turned back around to look at him. “It is not talked of in high courts here.”
“Yeah but--”
“If you have come to talk of magic, then you are too late in that regard. The people I would suggest that you talk to are dead. I can offer you a place to stay if you wish,” Odin spoke, his blue eye flickering with something that looked an awful lot like… Harry tilted his head in confusion and he reached up to run a hand through his hair. He couldn’t quite decipher the look in Odin’s eyes but he could have sworn it was guilt. “If you wished to speak of magic, my son would have been the best person to discuss it with. But alas, he died two years ago.”
“Thor? But I thought--”
Something flickered in Odin’s eye, maybe irritation, maybe something else.
“Loki. My other son. He died saving Thor and his friends from the dark elves,” Odin remarked, shrugging slightly under those robes. “The play of Loki of Asgard is due to premiere tonight, if you would like to watch it with me.”
Harry blinked in confusion. “A play.”
Odin nodded. “A play. I’ve heard good things about the actors.”
Harry stared at the king before turning around to look at all the people behind him. If this was Asgard, then he supposed that all these people were gods and goddesses.
“Alright. I’ll stay,” Harry finally said, glancing back at Odin. “Do I have your permission to explore Asgard?”
“Aye, you do. You are immortal, are you not? You would not have landed here in Asgard if you were mortal.”
Harry let his mouth curl up in an amused grin. “Of a sort. I am not a god though.”
Odin twitched and brushed some of his flaxen colored hair behind an ear. For half a second, Odin’s hair was black and Harry twitched, tilting his head in bewilderment. “Frigga, my wife, was also better at speaking of magic. She… died two years ago, so you are free to go to our library.”
“Sounds like a busy time,” Harry commented, right before he turned to go.
“Hmm?”
“Two years ago.”
Odin turned away at Harry’s words, glancing over at the throne. Harry watched his gaze darken and flicker again with that emotion, dark and lost. Something in his chest clenched at the thought before he stepped away. He would have expected grief and he did see that in the man’s eye but it wasn’t just grief. It was definitely guilt laden.
“I’ll be at the play,” Harry said, sparing a look over to Skurge, catching the man’s eyes.
Harry caught Odin’s eyes, glancing at the king before stepping back into the crowd behind him.
“Where are you from?”
Harry turned to look at the guy next to him, seeing blond hair and a swishy cloak. He looked very swashbuckley, cocky, a hint of a swagger to his walk, a sword at his side, and two other men followed him. He shielded his eyes from the bright sun to look the men over, his gaze passing over most of them. The blue skies around Asgard hadn’t changed in the slightest over the course of the afternoon, as he had explored the streets. But the sun had started to go down in the past hour, dusk creating a soft glow.
“I’m from an Earth.”
“And you have magic?” One of the other men asked, a suspicious look in his eyes. This one was bigger than the other two, rounder and fatter.
“Yeah. Who are you guys?” Harry asked, lifting an eyebrow as they walked towards the theater house with everyone else.
“I’m Fandral.” The guy that looked like a swashbuckler said, gesturing to himself.
“Hogun.”
“And I am Volstagg.”
Harry stopped right as Hogun was about to open his mouth, his eyes widening at the sight before them. A golden statue stood between them and the theater house, depicting a man with a horned helmet. He stared up at the statue for several minutes, hearing people pass him by and chat amongst themselves.
“Who… Who is that supposed to be?” Harry questioned, finally, his eyes caught on the statue’s golden eyes. Feeling like that piercing gaze was following him as he rocked back on his heels.
“That is Loki, my son.”
The three men all instantly bowed their heads as Odin approached. The king came up to stop by Harry’s side and turned to look at him with an appraising look.
“That is certainly some helmet,” Harry offered, seeing the three men in front of them wrinkle their noses in disgust.
Odin peered up at the statue of his son and sighed quietly. “It was. My son was often one for the dramatic, like his brother. Shall we?”
“Why not. It’s not like I have anything better to do,” Harry remarked, shrugging, as he met the king’s eye. There was something about the king that was throwing him off and he wasn’t sure if it was due to the moment he thought he had seen black hair instead of white.
He finally just shrugged and walked alongside the king of Asgard, wading into the crowd of people heading into the outdoor theater.
Harry shook his head at the attendant who came up to him, a plate in her hands with some kind of good looking food on it. “No thanks.”
She nodded and swerved around the other attendees of the play, starting over with her offerings. It was a warm afternoon for an outdoor play and Harry’s feet were propped up on a chair, relaxed and nice. He could feel the king look at him occasionally, from where he sat next to him.
An honored guest of the king. Harry wasn’t too sure if he felt honored or not but it was nice to just sit and relax.
The Tragedy of Loki of Asgard.
He watched as the play started, as the actor who played the king came out on stage. Listened to him speak about finding a little blue baby icicle named Loki on the battlefield of Jotunheim all those years ago. The kid actor who was playing Loki was painted all in blue, with bright green eyes that seemed to spark in the sunlight.
The play carried on and showed baby Loki and baby Thor as friends, painting Thor in a not very mature light. As the two grew up, teenage Loki and Thor remained friends, as Loki learned magic and Thor ran off to join his own friends. Harry’s nose wrinkled as the play showed Loki being made fun of for ‘women’s work’, for using magic to fight.
The theater goers all chuckled, amused, apparently not seeing anything wrong with that.
“Women’s work,” Harry repeated, scowling, feeling the king’s gaze on him. “If they knew a thing about my childhood and what I did. They wouldn’t think that. Plus, I think all of my friends would argue against that.”
Harry scowled even deeper at the thought, glaring at a few people who shuffled away from him. “But oh. That’d make the pureblood wizards back home so uptight. I’d pay good money to see that.”
“Purebloods?” Odin echoed, staring at him curiously.
“Where I come from, there were pureblooded wizards and witches. People who never married non-magical people,” Harry explained, lifting his shoulders in a small shrug as the play entered an intermission for fifteen minutes. “Purebloods were uptight, arrogant and believed in keeping the bloodlines…pure. Really made keeping who’s who in the war easy.”
“Are you from Midgard? Our Midgard? I do not know of any earthborn wizards like that in our Midgard,” Odin commented, taking a bite of a grape that was offered to him.
“Your-- No. Probably not. People really think magic is a woman’s thing here? That it’s… unchivalrous?”
Odin turned to look at the people seated in the outdoor theater, the people who lived on Asgard. There was a hint of something in the king’s eye, a hint of…disgust that Harry wasn’t entirely sure was directed outward. It looked like it was both directed outward and at the king himself. Like it was self-loathing almost and then it was gone.
“People believe what they want,” Odin finally answered roughly. “My son had a hard time of it. You mentioned a war amongst your people. What part did you have in that?”
Harry let out a noise of consideration. “Given that I was Undesirable Number One, what do you think?”
Odin blinked and swallowed visibly. His eye was fixed on Harry but he remained silent until the play started up again. This time with adult actors as Loki and Thor, showing the coronation preparations for Thor.
“How long ago was this?” Harry questioned, tilting his head in thought. “And where is Thor right now? Wouldn’t he be…”
“He is on Midgard,” Odin answered, more quiet than before, more tentative. “He has become a good man while I am on the throne, growing older by the day.”
Thor got himself in trouble on Jotunheim trying to avenge the mishap during the attempted coronation. Loki saving the day by telling a guard about where they had gone. Actor Loki found out he was a frost giant, a Jotun, and broke down in actor Odin’s arms.
Harry’s heart fell into his stomach at the scene, his breath caught in his throat.
When the play showed Loki falling off the Bifrost, off the bridge that Harry had first appeared on, Harry sucked in a tight breath. It’d been an hour since the play had started, the sun slowly dipping on the horizon. “Where…did he fall to?”
Odin shrugged, laying his arms on his lap. Practiced nonchalance. “No one knows. He came back different however.”
The play switched locations to what was clearly New York City, to an invasion of the city by aliens. Humanity ran about screaming and heroes took to the skies to protect it. Actor Loki ran about with horns, a wild look on his face, manic and feral. His dark hair was longer than it had been and Harry scrubbed a hand over his face. That dark hair had been the same color as the hair he had briefly, so very briefly, seen on Odin.
“Wait. They’re saying.” Harry paused, his heart skipping a beat. “Loki is supposed to be the god of mischief, not. Not this. Your son. Assuming this play has at least some truth to it, your son wouldn’t be capable of this.”
Odin inhaled sharply at his words, his eye fixed on him now and not on the play itself.
Actor Loki spoke about how he meant to take over the world. How order was better than chaos and Harry shook his head. “That’s not Loki.”
“It is,” Odin replied. “He did this.”
“No, but. Everything the play’s showed about him has been jokes and pranks. No true harm meant. Your son was being pressured…” Harry stopped, met Odin’s eyes. “Where did Loki fall? Did he ever say?”
“No. When Thor brought him back to Asgard after the battle,” Odin started, as they watched the actors on stage act out the very history they were talking of. “I put Loki in prison and he never talked.”
The group of heroes, or at least the actors, all spoke to Loki throughout the fight, at varying times. And actor Loki either stayed quiet or talked back, taunting them. One of the heroes, in a red and gold costume, called Loki ‘reindeer games’ and took Harry’s breath away. His eyes flicked down to where those words were written on his skin, on the back of his left knee.
He ran his fingers over his pants, over that spot, and his heart stopped. Didn’t start back up until five minutes later, until Odin politely cleared his throat. He smoothed his thumb over the back of his knee. Reindeer games, rock of ages, puny god. Odin. Liesmith. Nicknames etched into his skin. Nicknames of his soulmate.
Harry hummed thoughtfully, trying to remain unaffected and mostly failing, and then sighed. “And he’s dead now too. That means I can’t talk to him about it.”
“I am having a feast after the play,” Odin offered, gesturing back to the palace, either not noticing how Harry’s voice had trembled or choosing not to comment on it. “You are more than welcome to join me.”
Actor Loki was put in a muzzle as soon as he was caught and Harry twitched, reeling back at the sight.
“I…I have to go,” Harry replied, leaning forward in his seat as they watched actor Loki be put in prison. “But I suppose I could stay. I wish…”
Odin smiled faintly. “It would be nice to have company from another realm tonight. I have always wanted to learn more.”
“Alright. I’ll have dinner with you.”
Another fifteen minute intermission was called and Harry stood up, stretching his legs in the warm air. More to decompress and process the fact that his soulmate. His soulmate had been Loki, prince of Asgard. He flinched at the thought, at the past tense, and then thought about how the king had acted.
Thought about the brief flicker of dark hair he had seen. About how the king had reacted to Harry naming himself undesirable number one. He snorted in faint amusement, had never really considered that a nickname but he supposed. It could have been. That could have been etched on his soulmate’s skin. On Loki’s skin.
He wondered how Loki had died. Maybe the play would feature it. He wondered about how much of this play was the actual truth. Besides...if Loki was really dead and his soulmate. His words would have gone dark, would have been blackened scars.
The actor Loki and Thor both grieved when Frigga died. Actor Loki looked stricken, in shock, in that instant before that grief turned inward. Harry turned to look at the king at that instant, watching him while the king watched the play intently. Odin kept himself mostly quiet, mostly expressionless as the character of Frigga died, aside from a sharp exhale.
Mouthing lines to himself before they actually happened on stage. Harry turned away before Odin noticed him but his lips quirked up, putting one and two together as the play went on.
Actor Loki sacrificed himself to save Thor and Jane from the dark elves, taking a blade to the chest. The attendees all around them all sucked in shocked gasps, stricken noises echoing all around the theater. Belated love for their prince who saved Thor’s life.
Loki died in Thor’s arms.
“I didn’t do it for him.” For the king, Loki meant. Loki had done it for Thor, for his brother.
Harry shivered at the sight, unsure if his guesses, if his hunch was correct now. Had Loki truly died on a dead world two years ago? But then again. The play had featured Loki using illusions, pretending to be different people all in the name of pranks. That kind of magic was easy enough, if Harry understood it correctly, and if his hunch was right. If Loki was actually…sitting next to him as the king.
Harry was totally getting Loki to teach him that. What were soulmates for if not to learn from each other?
The theater goers all cheered and clapped as the play ended.
The palace was just as golden on the inside as the outside was. The feast was a big one, people all over the place at tables spread out in the great hall. Harry sat next to the king as an honored guest, enjoying the food itself as it reminded him of Hogwarts. Everyone was talking eagerly about the play, about how they would bring their friends next time.
Their friends who were all immortal and long lived and Norse. Harry wondered if there were winged horses somewhere on Asgard or if there was a giant dog laying around here. The myths were already not true or, he supposed, were true in another realm.
“Did you enjoy the play?” Odin asked, as Harry took a bite of meat.
“I did.” Harry snorted amusedly. “You could say Loki…was a survivor.”
“Yes. He was,” Odin commented, nodding in agreement. “They were both good friends, my sons.”
Harry ran a hand through his own dark hair, nodding thoughtfully. “The boy who lived, you could say.”
Odin froze, his eye flicking down past the table to where his hip lay. “Ah yes. Loki knew how to live. He always enjoyed making mischief.”
Harry shuffled his chair closer, grinning faintly, testing the waters more. “A man after my own heart. The Chosen One.”
Odin huffed but didn’t say anything. His gaze flicked down to his right wrist though, telling enough that Harry’s grin widened.
“Do the Midgardians of this realm have soulmates?” Harry questioned, more curious than anything. “Do the Asgardians?”
“The Midgardians, yes,” Odin answered, dipping his head in a nod. “The Asgardians however do not. So if you have words on your skin, look elsewhere.”
“So…in other words,” Harry paused, taking a sip of water and putting his glass down. “Someone who does probably would be considered abnormal.”
“ A freak.” The word was hissed under Odin’s breath and Harry’s heart stopped, didn’t restart for a long time, as the king jerkily stood up. Pushing his chair back a few feet. Harry’s knees almost buckled, his legs shaking. His entire body shaking in dismay, the blood in his face draining in shock.
“Loki. ”
Harry’s voice mirrored the man now in front of him, the man who flickered with green light. His own mischief and amusement fled as the illusion of Odin vanished, replaced by.
Loki, prince of Asgard. Alive. In that green and black armor that actor Loki had worn. His black hair long and smooth, shiny almost.
Every single person in the hall stopped what they were doing, their hands paused halfway to their mouths with food. Chatter stopped. Eyes going wide.
Harry flinched, taking in the sight of his soulmate. Loki stood tall and almost proud, his skin paling. Harry took a step towards him, a quiet sound leaving his throat at the way Loki looked at him.
There was desperation in those green eyes, desperation and hope and longing and fear. Harry’s breath caught somewhere in his lungs and he started to reach out, to touch, when Loki vanished. There one minute and gone the next.
Magic bubbled in the space that Loki had been seconds ago and Harry stood there, lost and alone and. Everyone in the hall all turned to look at him with scandalized eyes, their mouths open.
“Now who’s gonna be in charge?” Someone in the hall asked, not that quietly, wondering.
“Uh.” Harry looked over at the Einherjar, the guards who lined the hall, and swallowed.
“He will be.”
The solemn, low voice at his elbow made him startle. He swiveled around on his heels and turned to look at the man behind him. Dark skinned, head to toe armor, and a giant sword strapped to his back.
“I am Heimdall. And you are the one I saw traveling.”
“Yeah.” Harry swallowed on a dry throat and licked his lips, sidling over to the table to grab his glass of water. “ Loki!”
There was no response and his heart plummeted into the pit of his stomach.
“I…” He trailed off, his heart now restarting, sucking in breath after breath. “Wait. What did you just say?”
Heimdall cleared his throat and gazed over the people assembled in the hall. Most of them smiled faintly, nodded to Heimdall as he looked at them, met their gazes.
“You will be steward of Asgard until either Loki or Thor come back,” Heimdall remarked.
“What.”
“You have the qualifications,” Heimdall offered, shrugging idly. “Skurge can even keep his job. I will advise you.”
Harry blinked and blinked again, crossing his arms. “Hey. Wait a damn minute. I did not. No one even voted for me. I wasn’t even going to stay!”
Heimdall smiled, his eyes searching Harry’s face, distant. “You are immortal, are you not? You have power.”
“Yes, but.”
“Loki will be back. I have no doubt.”
“I’m not even Norse!”
A few people in the hall laughed at his words and he sighed.
“Fine. Fine. I’ll wait and watch over Asgard,” Harry spoke, scrubbing his face. “For Loki though. Not for anything or anyone else.”
“Very well.”
Loki closed his eyes and glanced at the portal that would take him home. His head still buzzed with some kind of alcohol that he had found in an alley on a distant planet that had a name he couldn’t pronounce. His footsteps were still a little uneven, still shaky, and yet he could see the golden palace of Asgard.
The beautiful mountains that were home. The rainbow bridge. It had been a month since. Since he had found his soulmate. Or his soulmate had found him. A month that he had spent drinking to forget, that he had spent getting lost on various planets and dealing with the fact that his soulmate was real. Those words were real. He had. He had a soulmate. And had run away from him immediately.
Loki wondered if Harry had run off too, wondered if the man had forgotten about him promptly. Wondered if Asgard was still. He’d left no one in charge and had just. A sound left his throat and he stepped through a portal of his own making, arriving just as the sounds of a ball filtered through to him.
The evening light of the moon flickered above him, lighting up Asgard. He’d arrived in the back of the palace and blinked at the difference. Everything wasn’t quite as golden as it had been. There were decorations strewn about on the walls, ribbons of all colors hanging in the air.
Silver, green, red, gold, blue ribbons. All hovering in the air as if by magic.
Loki followed the noises of the party to another wing of the palace, to the ballroom. It was crowded with families, with children running all over the place and their parents talking amongst each other.
The dance floor was sparsely populated, just a few couples slow dancing to music that a band in the corner was playing. Someone was singing in their own tongue, old norse, lilting and quiet, slow enough to dance to.
Food was spread out on the tables, half eaten, and clearly enjoyed.
The table at the front of the great ballroom had two people sitting at it. One he was familiar with from birth, Heimdall, and the other. The other was his soulmate. Harry Potter, the man that had disrupted his plans, and his whole world, was sitting quietly, enjoying a plate of food and drink.
The man was dressed like an Asgardian but still more than a little casual. A silver cloak over his shoulders.
One of the older Asgardian men stood up from his table and walked up, bending his head to talk with Potter. Loki felt a sliver of jealousy as his soulmate talked with the older man, heat sparking inside him. The hair on the back of his neck prickled and he turned to meet Heimdall’s knowing eyes.
Loki slowly walked up to the table, his arms by his sides, quiet, hesitant, and waited until Potter was done talking.
“...come by in the morning. Of course.”
The older man dipped his head in half bow and stepped back, turning to see Loki. His eyes widened but he didn’t say anything, just walked back to his own table.
Loki kept his gaze down, his heart thundering in his own chest, waiting for whatever Potter had to say. Waiting for him to ask him his name, to speak angrily at him.
A chair scraped back on the floor and footsteps echoed over the sounds of the party. The power that he remembered feeling radiated from the Midgardian man, waves of it curling around Potter.
Warm fingers cupped his chin and tipped his face up, making him meet those bright green eyes. Potter was smiling and there was hope and excitement in his eyes. Loki’s own heart skipped a beat at the look.
“ You’re back. ”
Loki shivered as Potter’s thumb smoothed circles into his chin, tracing what felt like a rune mark into him.
“I am,” Loki remarked quietly, leaning into those fingers and into the contagious hope. “Would you like to dance?”
Potter’s grin widened even more as he nodded, winking at him. “You’re going to have to teach me. I’m a little rusty.”