Xover: Thor/HP - Berkana 02 - Loki/Harry
Because it was too big to post all together...
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“Berkana”
Disclaimer: Harry Potter is property of JK Rowling, Bloomsbury, Warner Bros, et all. Thor, Loki, etc belong to Marvel, Stan Lee, et co. I make no money from this and own nothing, don’t sue.
Summary: [Loki/HP] Having mastered the ability to travel between worlds without the use of the Bifrost, Loki stumbles upon Harry Potter and decides to keep him, for all kings need a consort. Unfortunately, Thor has the same idea, when Loki brings Harry home to meet the family.
Warnings: Slash. Loki/HP. One-sided Thor/HP. Pre-Thor (the film). Ignores Avengers Assemble (the film). Violence. Language. AU. Typos. Mpreg. Character death. Creepiness. Arsehole-ary. Eventual happy ending. Attempted forced abortion?
Rating: NC-17.
A/N: I put runes into their bag, and drew them, and the one that was chosen became the name of this story. Despite Ansuz and Thurisaz being the ones commonly associated with Loki. Berkana is the rune of the Norse god Tiw, whose name survives in the modern word, Tuesday. It signifies victory in battle, or the presence of a guiding star or planet.
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Words: 27,261
Chapter 1 Part 2
December 25th 1999. Jötunheimr.
“Happy Yule, Loki,” Harry whispered.
Loki turned his head, slowly becoming accustomed to wakefulness. He lay sprawled out upon a bed of snow and ice, his magic having come into play at some point to turn it into the warmest, softest bed they had ever lain in, and he was naked for he had never much been affected by the cold. Harry on the other hand was bundled up warmly, despite the heating charms he had cast upon himself. He didn’t want to cast too strong a charm in case the ice melted, because they were supposed to be a hiding, and melting polar ice caps, or the alien equivalent, would be a rather blatant sign pointing right to them.
“Merry met my love.” Loki smiled softly at him, where he was crouched down beside a small fire of conjured twigs and peat, the tip of his nose pink and his ears flushed from the cold. Harry rose to his feet and moved towards the bed, sitting down beside his lover and pressing their lips together.
“Do you not wish to spend this day with your family?” Harry asked softly, both hands cupping Loki’s cheeks to keep him from turning away, from ignoring the question.
Two days ago, Odin had finally worked up the courage to confess to Loki that he would never be king. He blamed the truce with Laufey, which was partly true, but he did not once mention Loki’s part in that truce, nor his true father’s second rejection of him. Harry stood silently by the wall as they spoke, as Odin gave excuses and half-truths that Loki could never see behind for this was the All Father and he was beyond Loki’s powers, and as Loki raged and shouted accusations, destroying everything within reach.
Thor stood beside Harry, not really listening to the conversation, for if he had been he would have questioned when and why his father had dared to promise his throne away, to offer it to his brother upon the condition of marriage without even informing Thor first. Instead, he stared at Harry’s profile, the sharp jaw, the proud nose with the tiniest uplift to the tip, the angle of the one cheekbone he could see, and the green, green eyes that darted curiously in his direction every now and then. The back of Thor’s hand brushed the back of Harry’s every time the god shifted, feigning boredom and agitation, sighing loudly after every movement, so that Harry would look at him and quirk his lips up in silent agreement as Loki and Odin continued to fight. Really though, Thor was moving purposely, leaning closer to Harry, touching their hands harder, breathing deeper, but the boy didn’t seem to notice it as anything other than innocent contact, unmeant, unintentional, unthreatening, and his eyes hardly if ever left Loki, who was magnificent in his anger.
As Odin predicted, Harry was the one who calmed Loki down, hands raised in front of himself as if Loki might strike him, though of course he never did. The moment Harry raised his hands, Loki dropped his sceptre and his anger vanished, eyes wide at the thought that he might hurt Harry if he continued on. They spoke, softly, cheeks pressed together as Loki crushed Harry against his larger form, and there were tears on Loki’s cheeks that Odin graciously ignored when his son turned back to him at last.
“Very well, father. Once more I have been passed over in favour of Thor, the best of us all,” Loki snorted lightly, rolling his eyes in his brother’s direction before a squeeze of Harry’s hand upon his bicep drew his attention back again. “Despite no longer having the need, now, for a worthy consort, I will be marrying Harry at your earliest convenience. He is the only one worthy of me.” Loki hissed the last few words out, his eyes narrowed into slits and his mouth drawn down into a tight line. His hands gripped Harry tightly, and before Odin could respond, the two of them disappeared together, like ghosts or apparitions or illusions fading into nothing.
Odin thought little of it, for Loki had not gone by the bifrost, and Laufey swore no one had trespassed in Jötunheimr lately, and Heimdallr could not see them upon earth. But Thor was convinced that Loki had stolen Harry away to punish him, to defile him in unmentionable ways, but Odin, who understood enough of Loki, at least, to know that when he loved he loved fiercely, pushed Thor’s concerns to the back of his mind. Instead, he added planning a wedding to the list of things to do along with planning Thor’s coronation.
Still, Loki had in fact brought Harry to Jötunheimr. But he travelled by the shadow ways, and it was easy enough to conceal himself from the Jötuns around him. Several had passed by their cave over the last two days, and not one had yet to discover them. Loki would be happy to hide here forever, with his Harry, and lick his wounds, to stew in Harry’s reasons and understanding of his father’s words, to indulge himself in the love of the only one to put him before Thor, of whispered words and gentle kisses and desperate passions that made his heart clench for this, all of this, for eternity.
“You are my family,” Loki told him finally, pulling Harry down so that they lay side by side, in the ice wastes of Jötunheimr, hidden by magic in a cave. Despite the loss of his promised throne, Loki was content. He felt cheated, yes, angry and jealous, yes, but if his father had not promised in the first place then Loki would not have gone for Harry, so it was, he told himself, better to have had and lost than to never have had at all, but perhaps he was misquoting.
“How would you like to extend your family?” Harry asked with a coy smile on his lips. Loki merely looked confused, his eyebrows drew down together and crow’s feet appeared at the corners of his eyes as he squinted in deep thought. Harry took pity on him after five minutes of silence. Laughing, he said, “I was going to wait until we were married because you seemed so set about marrying first, but we’re not married still, and I sort of assumed you’d be the sort to rush through it so there was no chance anyone could change their minds.”
Loki interrupted him with a scowl. “I would have wed you the first day you were brought to Asgard, but for Thor. He insists this is some trick I am playing upon you and demands I let you return to Midgard or at least waste time proving the affections I hold for you to him when proof to you is all that matters. Accepting my proposal is all that is required to know that I have proved myself to you!”
Harry took his hands, thumbs rubbing circles lightly to calm him. “I told myself that if we weren’t married by Yule, I’d tell you then because it would make a nice gift. But, well, when you decide to go back to Asgard-”
“If,” Loki interrupted, his jaw clenched in stubbornness.
“When,” Harry repeated, for he and Loki both knew well that Loki would miss his home eventually, though he mightn’t miss the people he had left behind, “you go back to Asgard, you can tell Thor from me that we’ll be married before June or it’ll be his fault his nephew is a bastard.”
Harry didn’t particularly like that word, but it was the word Purebloods used to describe children born outside of marriage, and if Loki’s reasons for wanting to be married first was for the same traditions the Purebloods had, bastard was probably the same word they used as well. Loki glanced at him, eyes narrowed, searching his face for a lie. Harry stared back at him, both of his hands pressed to his stomach.
“Finite,” he whispered. Ansuz burned upon his neck for a moment, as the glamour across his stomach dissipated. Where it had once been flat and tight, Harry’s stomach was now hard to touch with the smallest of curves to it. Being only eleven-weeks pregnant meant that there wasn’t much to look at yet, but Harry knew that now he had stopped hiding it, Loki would notice the changes immediately.
“You are with child,” he whispered. There was something in his voice that made Harry’s heart ache, a longing so profound that Harry wished the child had been born already so he could hand him over to Loki to hold and worship.
The Asgardian reached forward tentatively to press both hands over Harry’s on the boy’s stomach. He pressed against something, stretching the skin taunt, though it was only a small stretch at the moment. But it would grow, Loki knew. His own stomach had been rather big before he birthed Sleipnir and Angrboða had grown large with their three children as well. Loki had no idea that the child would be half-Jötun from his side of the family, having previously blamed Angrboða for their children’s monstrous sizes and appearances. He had no idea how dangerous the pregnancy would be for Harry, or that the boy would die in labour, only to survive by the mercy of Death and his Hallows, and as he did not know, he was glad for the pregnancy, for the child that Odin could not take away.
He had thought he’d be angry if Harry were to become pregnant, back when he had first met the boy, when he had told him that their children must be legitimate. He would have thought he’d be disappointed in himself for breaking his own vow, for dishonouring the one he loved in such a blatant way, for the shame was growing within his stomach and though magic could hide it nothing would hide the end result. But instead Loki was pleased, with himself for impregnating his lover without even having to try, with Harry for being pleased with the pregnancy enough to consider it a ‘gift’ to him, and with this child solely for existing. As the child of his consort, of his husband, there was no reason for Odin to take him away. There was no prophecy marking this child and it’s mother was human, not Jötun, and Loki had performed no magic for the conception to occur, and the child would be normal, well, half-human and half-god, but normal enough to appease Odin’s fears of Loki reproducing. Or at least, Loki thought so.
“I want many, many more,” Loki whispered, his mouth moving against Harry’s stomach, lips peppering kisses everywhere he could reach, fingers pressing down gently against the firmness, imaging their child beneath them, within Harry, just waiting to meet them. “I love you,” Loki murmured against tanned skin, “I love you both so much.”
“We love you too.”
Loki brought them back to Asgard two hours later, after making love to Harry twice more in the snow and cleaning them up. He was happy and content and excited and in love, but terrified at the same time because he was going to be a father again and this time he would be allowed to keep the child and he hadn’t the first clue what to do with it, but he was happy. Until he made the mistake of telling his father exactly why it was that he wanted to get married then and there.
“There’s no time for you to plan a wedding, father!” Loki had insisted, glancing back at Harry with misty eyes. Harry stood behind him, his hands behind his back, and the glamour on his stomach cancelled. “We must be married before May at the latest, for Harry is due in June and children have the inconvenient habit of arriving early and ruining well laid out plans. This child, Harry’s child, will be legitimate.”
Frigga had hugged them, excited for them, congratulating them as her hands pressed against Harry’s stomach and the treasure that grew within. Thor glanced between harry and his stomach with shock on his face. There was jealousy there, that the child was not his, that Harry was not his, but the obvious pleasure on his brother’s face was enough to dispel that jealousy. He was uneasy still, but he pulled Loki into an exuberant hug, congratulating the father-to-be and reaching out to place his own hands upon his unborn nephew.
Odin stood, all the while, ignored by the celebrating family. His remaining eye slipped closed and he saw behind it images that haunted him still. Of Laufey, who sired Loki. In turn, Loki had sired Fenrir, the wolf who would devour the gods during Ragnarök, and Hel the giantess who ruled over Niflheimr and Jörmungandr the world serpent who would one day swallow Midgard whole. And now this child, Odin thought, feeling suddenly bone weary. What sort of a monster would this child be, he wondered, sired by the god of chaos, the son of a god, who was also a Frost Giant, and a mortal who would likely die before the child reached full term. Would it not be kinder to kill the child now, Odin wondered, sighing deeply.
What kind of a monster would Odin be if he allowed Loki’s love for this child to kill an innocent mortal?
If the mortal wanted children badly enough, the All Father told himself in a poor attempt at making the situation seem better than it was and to lessen the guilt he knew he would feel later on, Thor would be capable of giving him some.
“No!” Odin bellowed, and around him his family fell silent. “No,” he said again. He did not explain what it was he was denying, but no one dared to question him for it was obvious the man was enraged by something. He left the room, still angry, and they watched him leave. Thor smiled softly to himself, knowing that he was about to get what he wanted, even if Harry did now come part and parcel with a nephew he had not been expecting.
Frigga turned to each of them, looking nervous and confused, before she left the room in search of her husband. She knew he did not like the idea of Loki having more children, but surely the child of a mortal could not be dangerous?
Harry glanced at Loki, who was staring angrily in the direction his father had disappeared. Loki, sensing his gaze upon him, turned to face Harry, who offered him a small smile in return for the shrug of confusion Loki gave him.
“Maybe we should elope?” Harry suggested, only half joking.
Loki smiled, but not understanding the meaning of the word, let it pass without response. He choose instead to pull Harry into his arms, Harry’s back to his chest, so that his chin rested on his lover’s head and his hands covered their unborn child completely.
“I will speak to him in the morning,” Loki promised softly, “but it is well passed time for the two of you to be in bed. I will carry you.” Without giving Harry a chance to respond, Loki swept the Wizard into his arms, bridal style. They left the room like that, Loki walking, and Harry curled against him, head on a broad shoulder and arms wrapped around a pale throat as his lips pressed kisses to the hollow of Loki's throat. Thor watched them leave, half tempted to throw Mjölnir at his brother’s head, if not for the fact that Harry would be injured as well, and so he restrained himself. He settled, instead, for glaring holes in Loki’s retreating form, comforting himself with the knowledge that soon enough Harry would be in his arms instead.
XXX
January 8th 2000. Asgard.
When he had explained it to Frigga, she had cried, horrible heaving sobs of despair. When he had told Thor of his decision the boy had offered him a tight smile and a concerned sigh, but no amount of acting could hide the desire that lit up his blue eyes. It had made more sense as Odin practised this speech in front of a mirror, telling his reflection that this was for the best, that this was necessary and that Loki would understand eventually. In time, once the mortal was dead and gone and their never-would-be child long forgotten, Thor and Loki would look back on this period of their ever-long lives and laugh over it, reminding themselves of that one time a human almost came between them, had almost ruined them, but didn’t, because Odin had done what was best for them all.
But now that he was seated before Loki and Harry, Thor and Frigga, all at once, he suddenly wasn’t so sure this was a good idea. No, he still did not want this child to exist, never a child of Loki’s could be born and raised upon Asgard, nor should they be suffered to live yet he had not had the heart to murder the others, merely banished them. And where could he banish this child? The half-human who would not survive on Niflheimr or Alfheimr or Jötunheimr, only on earth or Asgard, both within Loki’s reach, both within reach of the prophecy, and Odin had kept the peace for far too long to allow this child to bring about Ragnarök while he was still seated upon the throne of Asgard.
Frigga was still crying, softly this time at least. Fat tears slid down her cheeks, and she kept her face turned to the floor, too ashamed to look upon either of her son’s, because Odin had her so afraid of this child that she hadn’t even attempted to dissuade him.
Thor watched in silence, half-shocked at Loki’s audacity as he actually attempted to attack the king. Guards pulled him back, one restraining either arm, but the sorcerer spat and hissed at his father, screaming profanities in a language that Harry could not understand, but with such anger that he flinched at every shout anyway.
Odin looked tired, exhausted in fact, but he remained resolute. If Harry married Thor, he could remain in Asgard and Loki would be permitted to see him whenever he wished and vice versa. It wasn’t as if Odin was forcing them to exist at opposite ends of the earth, nor was he refusing to allow them their relations. If Thor was willing to share his new husband with his brother, then that was Thor’s choice, Loki could fuck Harry as many times as he liked, in as many ways and places, in front of an audience for all Odin cared for that. But, by becoming Thor’s spouse, the only children he would be permitted to bare, were his husbands. Never his lover’s. Never Loki’s. There were potions that could be rid of this child, before Harry got too attached to it, and they were painless and easy to prepare, and the servant women kept some on hand so they needn’t wait too long at any rate.
Harry would no longer be pregnant by Loki, but he would be there, with Loki. Married to Thor. If the boy really wanted to carry a child, Thor would oblige him, Odin was sure. Judging from the looks his eldest son was casting the mortal’s way, Thor would enjoy the practise at least.
“No!” Harry whispered suddenly. It was the first word he had said since entering the room, and despite it being whispered so softly, it had the effect of silencing every other person in the room immediately. Thor stopped trying to calm his brother, Loki stopped screaming abuse at his father, Frigga stopped crying though her cheeks remained wet, and the guards stopped demanding Loki apologise to the king.
They all turned to look at the shorter male. He was small, face extremely pale as he swayed on his feet from shock and disgust and terror, but his spine was straight and his stomach was a little bigger than it was two weeks ago, and his hands closed over the bump carefully as he glared Odin down.
“I spent my whole life being told what to do because someone thought they knew better than me what was best for me. And I left.” He glanced around the room, throwing glares at everyone but Loki, whose eyes had closed in grief, fully expecting Harry to be taken from him. “If you think for one second that you can order me to marry someone I don’t want to marry and don’t love, or do anything to hurt my baby, or try to tell me it’s ‘for the greater good’ again and think you’ll get away with it, you have another thing coming!” Odin opened his mouth, but Harry merely raised a hand to silence him. The guards gasped, for never had anyone been so disrespectful to their king. And even Odin looked taken aback, but he remained silent, more out of shock than any respect for Harry’s wishes.
“If you interrupt me again I will curse you, and it will fucking hurt, so don’t test me, old man! I am hormonal and pissed off and you upset Loki and my back hurts and I got sick this morning, so just fuck you in my opinion. You will not come near my baby. You will not interfere with mine and Loki’s relationship, and unless Loki wants me to leave, because he wants me to and not because you told him to make me leave, then I’m staying right here, with him, marrying him, and we are having this baby and you will butt out. Or I’ll go back to earth and keep my baby there and I promise you, you won’t find either of us if I choose to hide from you.”
“And I’ll go with them, if they will have me?” Loki whispered, breaking the desperate silence that had settled over the room once Harry stopped shouting.
Harry walked to Loki, the guards falling away from the sorcerer without prompting. The younger man offered a soft smile, green eyes bright, and tilted his chin up for a kiss, accepting Loki without words with that action, by simply smiling at him. Loki kissed him, dragging Harry forward by the biceps until the boy was pressed tightly against him, his stomach a now familiar pressure against his own as they stood with no room between them, mouths moving together, hands grasping, and tongues tasting. Harry smiled widely, his lips moving against Loki’s, who paused in his kisses to offer a wider smile of his own, one that made his whole face light up.
“Thank you,” he breathed against Harry’s mouth. “No one has ever stood up for me that way before.”
“Get used to it,” Harry told him, offering another smile and a light squeeze of his hand on Loki’s arm in comfort. He knew what it was like to grow up being second best, to feel unwanted and unloved, though he actually was and at the time Loki wasn’t. “Are we done here?” Harry asked Odin, without even turning around to face him.
“There is a prophecy-” The king began.
The moment the word left his mouth Loki went stiff in his arms, body tense and battle ready, even as his heart lodged in his throat. He had always thought the prophecy regarded the mother he had chosen for those children, but now, now it appeared the prophecy was all about his children regardless of who bore them. For they were his, and therein lay the problem.
“Bullshit.” Harry hissed, snapping around on his heels to stalk towards the king again. “My life was ruined by a prophecy once, and you know why? Because some meddling old man, like you, thought he knew what was best. Shall I tell you the best thing about prophecies? If you ignore them, they go away.” Loki reached forward to pull Harry backwards, to draw him back into his arms and away from Odin’s reach. “So don’t give me that rubbish and expect me to believe it just because you think it’s true. You are not always right Odin Kronosson, All Father,” Harry spat the word like an insult, anger boiling in his chest, and his magic surging beneath his skin.
Instinct demanded that he defend his child, and pride insisted he defend his lover and his choice of lover. Loyalty expected the same, but there was the tiniest part of him, deep within, that cocked an ear and listened, considered, because while he might not believe in Ragnarök or a prophecy, it didn’t mean that someone else wouldn’t accidently set it into motion. But no, because this was still his child, his first real flesh and blood family member since he was fifteen-months-old, and Loki had been so breathless when he had been told, so reverent and honoured, and Harry wanted this child for himself who so wanted a family and for Loki who had been so denied one. Prophecy or no prophecy, he would defend this child until his last breath, and Odin seemed to realise that, for he suddenly changed tactics.
Harry was half-way to the door, hand in hand once more with Loki, when Odin spoke again. “The child will kill you.”
It was so… certain, the way he said it, not even a hint of doubt in the words, whereas he had doubted himself as he spoke of replacing this child with one of Thor’s.
“What?” Loki asked, turning to face his father. There was fear in his eyes, and desperation on his face, and it made Harry’s heart ache to see him succumb to his father’s lies so easily simply because they played on all of Loki’s fears.
“No he won’t.” Harry said, just as certain. He grasped Loki’s face between both hands, thumbs circling his cheeks, soft and comforting, the way he did when ever Loki lost his temper and needed a moment to calm himself before speaking. “He won’t kill me, I promise you.”
“The child won’t, no, I suppose. But the pregnancy will.” And because Odin could still not bring himself to admit that Loki was a Frost Giant, a Jötun, and not an Asgardian, because as far as Odin was concerned he was his son and his race did not matter, he thought up the next best excuse. “Why do you think there are no other half-mortal, half-Asgardian children in existence, my son?” He said to Loki, standing from his throne at last to make his way towards them, to pull Loki from Harry’s arms and shake him lightly as if to make him see sense. “His body will not be able to handle the pregnancy; it will kill him, my child.”
Thor’s eyes were wide with horror at the thought. He had been willing to allow Harry to keep Loki’s child, to birth and raise it after their own marriage, and to never begrudge his brother that bond with Thor’s husband, but his father had been adamant that the child must die before its birth. He had never said why, exactly, though his mother had mumbled something about a prophecy before she started to cry again, the week before, and his father had insisted that Thor could replace the child with one of his own.
“Is this true, father?” Thor asked, hand clenching around Mjölnir’s handle. “You said I could sire upon him, would that child not kill him also?”
Odin had hoped Thor would stay silent, had hoped he would let this all pass without comment, but of course he did not. Thor simply had to insist upon making the conversation about him, of turning what would have been a simple lie into an extravagant one, and though they were not biologically related one could assume that Loki had inherit the talent from his father before him. Liesmith, indeed.
“Yes. I had hoped to speak with Harry afterwards, to allow him to be the one to dissuade you from the idea. Loki, when you brought back a man I thought it a blessing, but whatever magic you have cast upon him, you must uncast before he marries your brother. A child, any child, will kill him.” Odin tried to reason with them again. He caught the obstinate look upon Harry’s face, and wondered for a moment if the boy would agree to a termination if Odin told him that the father of that child was capable of becoming a seven foot tall ice giant (still short compared to the rest of his race) but large enough that the child within him would not be a comfortable size and that its size alone would be enough to crush most of his internal organs before the labour could even begin. The labour itself, if magic had indeed caused this pregnancy, would be natural, and birthing a child even the size of a small giant would tear the boy apart. There was no healing from some injuries, and Odin’s involvement now should be taken as a blessing, Harry should be grateful for it and his interference, and perhaps he would be if he could catch Harry alone to explain this to him. Spitting out Loki’s true parentage here and now would only do more harm than good, and so he continued to keep the secret tight to his chest, with both hands, unwilling to let it go.
“The child will not kill me.” Harry repeated again, mostly to himself as no one else really seemed to be paying him much attention.
“Yes it will.” Odin whispered back, turning away from an angry Thor and avoiding the haunted eyes of Loki.
“Like you though Sigyn’s slap had killed me? Don’t deny it, I could tell by the look upon your face that you thought she’d broken my neck.” She had, actually, but Odin didn’t need to know that, and neither did Loki. Loki knew rune magic had healed him and protected him from injury, but he didn’t know that the Deathly Hallows had returned him to life once more, continuing to fulfil its duty to the master over death. “The fact is that it didn’t kill me, and if this is your only argument against this child, because all of those others were crap, then I’m having this baby and you can see your grandson or you cannot. It’s your choice. Just like this pregnancy is my choice, not yours.”
He resolved to make himself a Portkey, if it was possible, to bring him to Hogwarts or Gringotts, in case Odin ever tried to do anything to the baby and Loki wasn’t there to back him up. There had to be some way of emulating the way Loki travelled between worlds and trapping it into magic familiar to Harry so that he could harness it as well. There needed to be.
Harry snapped himself from his thoughts and turned to Loki again then, silently holding out his hand. Loki took it, and though his face was calm, his eyes burned with grief and terror and Harry hated seeing it upon him.
I’m fine, Harry’s smile told him just as his words had done earlier.
I’ll be fine, he said with his kisses, before allowing Loki to lead him from the throne room in silence.
He wouldn’t be fine, Harry realised, not completely. The Hallows wouldn’t allow him to die, and the runes would heal blood, bruises and broken bones, but the pregnancy was going to be a hard one the further along it progressed. Unless Harry was having twins, which he doubted, the child was going to be huge. He had seen pregnant people before, and normally he wouldn’t have been able to tell, even while staring at them that they were with child until they were at least four months pregnant, never mind barely three months! But you could see the swell of Harry’s stomach already, small as it was it was big enough to set off warning bells in Harry’s subconscious. He didn’t regret his child, and he’d never resent it or any pain it caused him. Something was off about it though, and either the rate at which it was growing or the size it was growing to, but even if the child did kill him, it would have been worth every moment he remained dead and every injury the child inflicted upon him, to eventually hold the child in his arms.
Loki didn’t need to be there for the birth.
He’d go to madam Pomfrey, he supposed, lost in thought as he slid into bed beside his fiancé, because she knew what he was capable of and had already experienced some of the weirdness in his life. She could remove the child magically, which hopefully wouldn’t injure him all that much at all. Even if the child did cause him injury, Loki could remain outside of the room, away from the pain and bloodshed and tears, away from the death, and all of Loki’s memories of the birth would be of their child in Harry’s arms waiting to meet him, and not of Harry pale, still and bloody, or pale, screaming and bloody.
“Harry?” Loki whispered, watching his lover lie on his back with both hands pressed to his stomach. Harry stared up at the ceiling, thinking deep thoughts, but he turned his head at the sound of Loki’s voice and gazed into matching green eyes. “Everything will be fine.” He said it more for his sake than for Harry’s, and the young man knew it.
Harry laughed softly, low and throaty and rolled onto his side making the bulge of his stomach that much more pronounced. “I know,” he said. And that was that.
The next morning, Harry explained what elopement was, and Loki took him in secret to Las Vegas, first, and then later to London where Harry showed him into the Ministry of Magic, conscious of the pointed fingers and loud gasps of surprise as their Saviour moved among the Wizards. Loki followed Harry first to a man dressed in a white polyester one piece and a bad wig and then to an elderly Wizard in deep burgundy robes, and they were married twice, once in the eyes of Muggles and once for Wizardkind, and then all that was left was to announce the union to Asgard, to consummate it (though they had done that several times before the marriage already, not that they weren’t willing to do so again), then if the desire arose profess themselves before Frigga and ask for her blessing. Though, judging from her silent support of Odin the evening before, Loki doubted an Asgardian ceremony would be occurring any time soon.
But he had Harry, before the eyes of the human God and the pagan ones, and his family would know of what they had done. The other Norse gods did not matter, for Loki was, to Harry, the only important one there was. And Loki was the one Harry had just married.
XXX
March 21st 2000. Asgard.
At just over six months pregnant Harry was much bigger than the Asgardians had expected him to be, except Odin and Frigga who knew the truth about the child he carried, and Harry himself who had long-ago guessed that the baby was bigger than a normal child. It was hard for Loki to hold Harry close enough to bring him to earth for appointments with the human healer in Hogwarts, so they had resorted to using the bifrost, which Heimdallr had kept closed to them the first time until Harry had lost his temper, accidentally knocked the man unconscious, and Loki never one to miss an opportunity opened the bifrost himself. Earth did not explode, so Heimdallr must have woken up soon enough and closed the bifrost in time. He had ended up with a headache that wouldn’t quit for days and a strong aversion to be anywhere near a pregnant Harry Potter, and so the bifrost was open to them whenever Harry had need of it.
Sex was impossible unless Harry lay on his side and Loki took him from behind, which wasn’t his favourite position, but he was horny all of the time and that was the only position he was getting anything from Loki in, so he would learn to love it for the next month and a half until sex was off the table completely.
Harry’s back hurt all the time, and his ankles as well, and his ribs and hips, and every time the child kicked within him Harry had to bite back a scream because he wouldn’t give Odin the satisfaction of knowing he had been right. The child was killing him from the inside, beating at his kidneys and bladder and pushing up his lungs and stomach, and it was agony. With every movement the child made lately, something within him tore, and though magic healed him immediately, the elder wand working without a command, the pain lingered in every joint and muscle, and then the child would shift again and it would begin anew. Over and over, and Loki would watch him with a tortured expression on his face, wanting to help but unable to because he didn’t know why Harry was in so much pain, or why the child was so big, and Odin still would not tell him.
Loki had considered that Odin was correct, and that this child was a monster, but all of earth’s ultra sounds had shown him a normal human baby: ten fingers, ten toes, one head, two legs with a tiny penis between them, two arms, and a heartbeat. A baby, not a snake, or a wolf, or an eight-legged horse, or a girl who was more corpse than girl. Just a baby. One that was killing Harry a little more each day.
But Harry would smile at him through the pain, would laugh when someone asked if he needed to go to the healing room and wave them off, because by the time they brought him there he wouldn’t need healing anymore thanks to magic, and every one believed that Loki was the one healing him. And how selfish he was, Loki, to allow his husband to suffer such pain, to mask it all beneath his magic and trickery, while forcing the poor mortal to give Loki what he wanted with no compensation. Harry would smile at them all, and tell Loki to ignore the comments, while holding one hand to his back and the other cupped under his distended stomach, because the child was heavy and large and touching him made the baby stay still for minutes at a time at least. He would announce then, loudly, that Loki would need to compensate him, to appease his people, and would demand that the god bring him back to their rooms and make love to him until Harry was satisfied and compensated and all was well.
Loki had looked startled the first time Harry had done it, along with everyone else around them, many of whom also looked scandalised. But now he merely grinned in Harry’s direction, all teeth like a shark and the glint of mischief in his eyes. He would sigh resignedly as he swept Harry off of his feet, exclaiming all the while that there would need to be an army of lovers to satisfy Harry’s appetite of lust. Loki would carry Harry from the room, or the hallway, or the banquet hall, or gardens if that was where they were, and behind them would trail ten illusions, all copies of Loki, each smirking or laughing or chuckling, glancing around wildly in excitement, or staring at Harry with lust, or shooting Thor smug looks that the real Loki kept hidden in Harry’s hair.
Harry laughed softly against Loki’s throat each time, ignoring the pain in his stomach, because he knew that the moment Loki was within him the child would be happy. He wouldn’t move, and he wouldn’t hurt, and he wouldn’t injure. It was as if he knew that his father was there with them, within Harry alongside the child, a part of them both, and it made the baby happy. When they had finished making love, despite the horribly uncomfortable position, Harry would insist on falling asleep with Loki still within him, and the moment Loki pulled out and separated their bodies and attempted to clean them up, Harry would gasp his way to wakefulness, clutching at his stomach as agony rippled through him.
If he knew what was wrong, why this was happening, he could find magic to fix it. But he didn’t know, and Loki didn’t know, and despite attempting to awkwardly seduce the answer out of Thor months ago, the future king of Asgard did not know either. Odin knew, and Harry was convinced the man kept it to himself out of spite, perhaps hoping that the child would die in labour when Harry did. But Harry wouldn’t let that happen. He had reconciled with Hermione the first time he had travelled to Midgard to see Madam Pomfrey, and while they were not as close as they used to be, she was excited for him and his baby and his marriage and sad that she had missed so much of it all. But she had promised to assist, and she scored through book after book on Norse mythology to find anything that might help him. She had found one word that hinted at something greater, some deeper meaning behind what was happening to Harry, but she had yet to tell him yet about it.
‘Adopted’ didn’t mean much unless she could figure out where Loki had been adopted from.
XXX
May 20th 2000. Asgard.
The child was old enough to survive independently of its mother now. Or at least that was what Madam Pomfrey had told him. It would be safe to perform a caesarean and remove the child. The baby would survive, at Hogwarts, surrounded by magic, and Harry wouldn’t have to suffer horrific internal injuries for another month and a half.
He carried the Portkey he had convinced Loki to help him create on his person everywhere he went now. It would be easy enough to send him into an early labour, if Odin was still so desperate to be rid of the baby, and kill the child without anyone being the wiser of his foul play. It would be played off as a natural death, one of a child too small to be born yet, too early, an unfair death. On Asgard, there was a higher infant mortality rate than what Harry would have attributed to a race of gods, but then, Loki was one of a very few who could perform magic successfully, the others were only any good for hunting or killing. It was like living in the middle ages, and Harry was increasingly glad that he had convinced Loki to bring him to Midgard for the birth of their child, assuming that nothing happened between now and the end of June, where there would be magic and sonographs and painkillers, real painkillers, not just stupid leaves that the healer told him to press against his tongue which did jack shit for him.
Harry made his way through the courtyard, with his arm around Sif’s shoulders and hers around his waist. Sif was the only one of Thor’s friends who considered Loki a friend too. The others put up with him because he was Thor’s brother, but Sif genuinely liked him, even if he had cut her hair off that one time as a prank, but he had gotten it back to its former splendour and he had paid the price without complaint for his trickery. He had lost Mjölnir to his brother and he had been held down while his lips were sewn shut, and Loki had never once held her to blame for it, despite it being her idea to trick the dwarves into making him weapons while they retrieved her hair. Where Thor wanted Harry because he thought he loved him, and yes Thor was possessive and protective and he flinched with every cry of pain Harry produced, he could never love the boy as Loki did. It made Sif happy to see Loki so happy, to see him with more than just her and Thor for company, more than a brother and the brother’s friend to call his friend. And she showed her pleasure at the situation by accompanying Harry to the healing room for those useless leaves that were supposed to dull pain but that Harry seemed to be immune to, and allowing him to lean on her as he tried to walk through the castle, though they never strayed too far from a guard or Loki’s rooms, and Harry’s Portkey was always there if he needed it.
“Thanks,” Harry said for the second time since Sif had knocked on Loki’s bed chamber door to collect him.
“You are welcome, Harry Lokislove,” she told him with a smile. That was her nickname for him, and it made Harry smile, because for once it was a nickname that he liked and that he was proud of. He responded by tugging lightly on her ponytail, offering her a half-smile as they continued to walk across the courtyard.
It was slow going, because Harry couldn’t move very fast, or even a little fast for that matter, but Sif never complained. In fact, she was the only one other than Loki and Frigga and Thor to make Harry feel welcomed. Thor sort of creeped him out, considering the man wanted to marry him and make his own babies with Harry, apparently whether he was willing or not, and Harry didn’t trust Frigga since the day Odin had tried to separate him and Loki. He knew she hadn’t wanted to go against her husband, because every fight Harry and Ron had had since he and Hermione got together meant that it was automatically a fight between the three of them with Hermione on Ron’s side, and he supposed the same thing went for him when anyone started on Loki: Harry defended his lover, like Frigga supported her husband, whether she agreed with his decision didn’t matter. He still didn’t want to be alone with her though. But Sif had never done anything but congratulate him and offer him some mead once instead of those leaves to dull the pain.
Harry had declined, but thanked her politely.
He heard them arguing before he saw them, Thor and Loki in the centre of the courtyard, squaring off against one another. Thor had his hammer and Loki his sceptre and each of them were scowling, looking darker than any storm Harry had ever seen. Not that he had seen one in a long while, mind you, because his rune magic hadn’t worked, with the exception of Ansuz to glamour his body and the slow fading bruises on his stomach that healed on the inside but not the outside and Sowelu which kept him from dying, since he hit his second trimester. He hadn’t told Loki though, not wanting the man to worry about the lack of Harry’s magic as well as the physical injuries. He still had the elder wand, though he only used it when necessary, because it made him stick out among the Asgardians whose only magic stemmed from runes or potions or whatever the hell Loki could do, though Harry was starting to think that it wasn’t Asgardian either.
Odin stood to one side, frowning and having given up on trying to get between them. He saw Harry before either of his sons did, and because he honestly didn’t want to hurt the mortal (just the child within him) he held up a hand to warn him to stay away.
The hammer met the sceptre with a loud crash, following by the screech of metal as Loki swept the sceptre upwards and hit Thor in the face. From the looks of them both, they appeared to have been at it for a while already. It was purely coincidence that the moment Harry was within striking distance, Loki knocked Thor off of his feet, and Thor happened to lose his grip on the mighty Mjölnir. It flew through the air, and Sif who had dropped into a deep bow at the sight of Odin tried to push Harry aside. But she was on one knee, and she unbalanced before she managed to unbalance Harry, though fortunately for Loki’s son her attempt to save him had the effect of making him stumble forward just before the hammer hit him. Mjölnir would have hit him straight in the stomach, except as he wobbled from Sif’s shove, he had leant forward, bending slightly over his belly and the hammer hit him in the head instead.
It was instant. It was painless. And it happened in less than the time it took for Loki to scream.
Harry crumbled to the floor like a puppet whose strings had been cut, and Mjölnir hit the ground behind him so hard it drilled through the concrete. There wasn’t much of the left side of Harry’s head remaining. Sowelu was dark above Harry’s right eye, and his left eye was missing, along with most of his jaw, and blood spread out upon the ground around where he lay like a halo as Loki screamed and desperately tried to shake him awake.
When Harry didn’t wake, as he had done when Sigyn had snapped his neck, Loki turned on his brother. His teeth were bared and his fingers curled into claws as nails sharpened and grew and the skin around his narrowed eyes turned a translucent blue. “I’ll kill you!” He snarled as he launched himself at Thor. It took Sif and four other guards to drag Loki off of Thor, who had stayed still and silent as Loki beat him bloody with his bare fists. Thor’s eyes stayed fixed on what remained of Harry, and the guilt in them was unbearable to look at, and Sif couldn’t deny that Thor had loved him, just not as much as Loki had.
Odin closed his eyes tightly, as he clasped both hands together in front of his chest and murmured a soft prayer for the mortal and the child, both of whom had passed on. His intention when he had allowed his son’s to fight in the place that he knew Harry always passed by once at day just before the midday meal had not been to harm him. Odin had merely hoped the shock of watching them fight, as they had never fought around him before with more than sharp words, would frighten him into leaving, or shock him into labour, and if the child was born here he would be vulnerable and if it were born a monster on Midgard the humans would be quick to kill it regardless.
And yet, it had gotten out of hand, had gone in a direction Odin had neither intended it to nor foreseen, and now he had to live with the consequences of his actions and his decisions, and he felt sick as he watched Thor sink to his knees in grief, crawling across the ground to reach Harry, touching what was left of his face with shaking hands. Loki had already been dragged back in the direction of the castle; he would have to be sedated or chained until the anger passed, and then Odin knew he would sink into melancholy and depression, fall back into his old habit of causing others misery in order to hide his own, and the smile that Odin had grown used to seeing again since Harry had come into his life would likely never make another appearance. The thought that he had caused this, the agony of both of his sons, made Odin sink to his knees, one hand clutching his chest.
That night, he fell into the Odinsleep.
When Odin was brought inside, Thor continued to sit by Harry’s corpse, though he had not touched him again, not since his hand had slipped in the blood and he had ended up with his palm dipping into, and through, what should have been Harry’s cheek. Three guards came to the courtyard ten minutes later, having given Thor his time to say goodbye, but they waited until he was out of sight before they reached down to collect the body and the child still within him. The moment the first set of hands touched Harry’s bare skin, his one eye snapped open and while he could not gasp Harry made a horrible rattling noise low in his throat. His right hand flapped frantically, searching for the ring that Loki had given him which he wore on a cord around his neck, and there it was, there, and Harry was squeezing it, and trying to make his voice work, but no sound would escape his ruined mouth.
The guards were shouting between each other, screaming at anyone who could hear them to fetch a healer quickly, and one of them took off running in Thor’s direction, because Harry was alive and Thor would want to know.
The Elder wand burned against his arm, and Sowelu burned upon his head. Nauthiz, a slanted crucifix, drew itself upon his stomach, and its magic glowed faintly for a moment, and then a moment more, and within him the baby began to kick furiously, running out of time. Harry squeezed the Portkey harder, until the gem of the ring was cutting into the mark of Isa, and as his blood touched it, Harry disappeared with a ‘pop’.
Harry arrived in his designated bed at Hogwarts in the infirmary. Poppy joined him less than half a minute later, before promptly screaming at the sight of his face. When she raised her wand to try and fix the damage, Harry waved his hand at his stomach, gurgling something unintelligible, but she understood, because she pointed her wand away from his head and towards his baby. The first incantation numbed the area, and the second cut it open. The third spell lifted his child out from inside of him, whence it began to shriek and wail as the cold air struck his sensitive skin. The baby changed then, in Madam Pomfrey’s arms, until his face and arms and legs and belly were blue, every single inch of his skin, and there were these strange markings across his face, like grooves that you would probably see scratched into a rock face.
“Jötun,” Harry managed to rasp after Madam Pomfrey had cleaned the blood off his face, stomach and chest and closed the incision and somehow managed to regrow his jaw. His eye had grown back under its own powers, much like the vertebrae in his neck had reattached themselves and his spinal cord had unsnapped the last time he had died.
He held his hands out for his child, who cried until Harry had him pressed against his chest. He was big. Premature but almost fourteen pounds and he was strong and resilient, and as Harry fed him for the first time, Hermione finally figured out who Loki had been adopted from and what race that made his child.
When Odin awoke a week later, Loki was still being sedated because he kept attacking anyone who was too close to him as he woke up, instinctively wanting to inflict pain thinking that it must be Thor beside him, because Thor was the last one to touch him, last one for him to hit, before he couldn’t remember anything.
Thor, on the other hand, had rushed straight to Odin’s bedside and exclaimed, “Harry is alive!”
Frigga had explained to Odin, of how Harry had apparently woken up, and then disappeared as the guard who had fetched Thor was returning to the scene. Heimdallr wouldn’t let anyone use the bifrost without Odin’s permission, and Thor had begged for a chance to search Midgard for Harry, to bring him and the child home.
Loki woke again then, and Thor went to share the good news with his brother, for he had been kept away from Loki’s rooms until Odin woke. But no longer would he keep away, now that his father knew they would be let use the bifrost, and they could go together to find Harry, and Loki could no longer be angry for the accident and Thor might be able to sleep at night again. But Loki had been sedated again by the time Thor arrived, and in his absence Odin summoned all of the guards who had been called to tend to Harry’s body to his chambers and all but one returned to their duties minutes later.
The one who had told Thor of Harry’s resurrection wasn’t ever seen again.
The others were sadly, but firmly, instructed to inform Thor that their comrade had gone mad at the sight of Harry’s body and the unnecessary death of a child, of an heir to Asgard, and had tricked his mind into believing the boy still lived. Odin, who had finally climbed out of bed, teamed up with Heimdallr to first find Harry, though it was difficult, and they only succeeded because Harry had yet to place a new Fidelius over his new home because he was hoping that Loki would hear him screaming for him. Odin cloaked his presence, so that not even Loki, who could apparently sneak between Midgard and Asgard, would find him.
Thor, despite the guards words and promises and apologises, refused to believe them until Heimdallr lied straight to his face and simply said, “He no longer exists within the universe. I am sorry, Thor.”
And so, when Loki finally woke and was calm, Thor had nothing to tell him, because his good news was worthless now that Heimdallr had proved it false, and there were no apologises enough that could ever make his actions forgivable, accidental though they were.
Instead, Thor pressed his forehead to the outside of Loki’s door the first night his brother was allowed to fall into sleep without the help of potions and magic, and listened to Loki sob heartbrokenly. Every cry was a penance, every wail like a whip against his back, and every time Loki choked out the words “I love you” through his tears Thor closed his eyes and whispered them back, both to Loki and to Harry, and he remembered everything about that night because this was his burden to bear now. This was his gift to Loki, though the man would never know it. This was the way he would punish himself, for no one else on Asgard would dare to punish him for the heinous crime he had committed.
XXX
TBC (again).
PREVIOUS HERE
“Berkana”
Disclaimer: Harry Potter is property of JK Rowling, Bloomsbury, Warner Bros, et all. Thor, Loki, etc belong to Marvel, Stan Lee, et co. I make no money from this and own nothing, don’t sue.
Summary: [Loki/HP] Having mastered the ability to travel between worlds without the use of the Bifrost, Loki stumbles upon Harry Potter and decides to keep him, for all kings need a consort. Unfortunately, Thor has the same idea, when Loki brings Harry home to meet the family.
Warnings: Slash. Loki/HP. One-sided Thor/HP. Pre-Thor (the film). Ignores Avengers Assemble (the film). Violence. Language. AU. Typos. Mpreg. Character death. Creepiness. Arsehole-ary. Eventual happy ending. Attempted forced abortion?
Rating: NC-17.
A/N: I put runes into their bag, and drew them, and the one that was chosen became the name of this story. Despite Ansuz and Thurisaz being the ones commonly associated with Loki. Berkana is the rune of the Norse god Tiw, whose name survives in the modern word, Tuesday. It signifies victory in battle, or the presence of a guiding star or planet.
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Words: 27,261
Chapter 1 Part 2
December 25th 1999. Jötunheimr.
“Happy Yule, Loki,” Harry whispered.
Loki turned his head, slowly becoming accustomed to wakefulness. He lay sprawled out upon a bed of snow and ice, his magic having come into play at some point to turn it into the warmest, softest bed they had ever lain in, and he was naked for he had never much been affected by the cold. Harry on the other hand was bundled up warmly, despite the heating charms he had cast upon himself. He didn’t want to cast too strong a charm in case the ice melted, because they were supposed to be a hiding, and melting polar ice caps, or the alien equivalent, would be a rather blatant sign pointing right to them.
“Merry met my love.” Loki smiled softly at him, where he was crouched down beside a small fire of conjured twigs and peat, the tip of his nose pink and his ears flushed from the cold. Harry rose to his feet and moved towards the bed, sitting down beside his lover and pressing their lips together.
“Do you not wish to spend this day with your family?” Harry asked softly, both hands cupping Loki’s cheeks to keep him from turning away, from ignoring the question.
Two days ago, Odin had finally worked up the courage to confess to Loki that he would never be king. He blamed the truce with Laufey, which was partly true, but he did not once mention Loki’s part in that truce, nor his true father’s second rejection of him. Harry stood silently by the wall as they spoke, as Odin gave excuses and half-truths that Loki could never see behind for this was the All Father and he was beyond Loki’s powers, and as Loki raged and shouted accusations, destroying everything within reach.
Thor stood beside Harry, not really listening to the conversation, for if he had been he would have questioned when and why his father had dared to promise his throne away, to offer it to his brother upon the condition of marriage without even informing Thor first. Instead, he stared at Harry’s profile, the sharp jaw, the proud nose with the tiniest uplift to the tip, the angle of the one cheekbone he could see, and the green, green eyes that darted curiously in his direction every now and then. The back of Thor’s hand brushed the back of Harry’s every time the god shifted, feigning boredom and agitation, sighing loudly after every movement, so that Harry would look at him and quirk his lips up in silent agreement as Loki and Odin continued to fight. Really though, Thor was moving purposely, leaning closer to Harry, touching their hands harder, breathing deeper, but the boy didn’t seem to notice it as anything other than innocent contact, unmeant, unintentional, unthreatening, and his eyes hardly if ever left Loki, who was magnificent in his anger.
As Odin predicted, Harry was the one who calmed Loki down, hands raised in front of himself as if Loki might strike him, though of course he never did. The moment Harry raised his hands, Loki dropped his sceptre and his anger vanished, eyes wide at the thought that he might hurt Harry if he continued on. They spoke, softly, cheeks pressed together as Loki crushed Harry against his larger form, and there were tears on Loki’s cheeks that Odin graciously ignored when his son turned back to him at last.
“Very well, father. Once more I have been passed over in favour of Thor, the best of us all,” Loki snorted lightly, rolling his eyes in his brother’s direction before a squeeze of Harry’s hand upon his bicep drew his attention back again. “Despite no longer having the need, now, for a worthy consort, I will be marrying Harry at your earliest convenience. He is the only one worthy of me.” Loki hissed the last few words out, his eyes narrowed into slits and his mouth drawn down into a tight line. His hands gripped Harry tightly, and before Odin could respond, the two of them disappeared together, like ghosts or apparitions or illusions fading into nothing.
Odin thought little of it, for Loki had not gone by the bifrost, and Laufey swore no one had trespassed in Jötunheimr lately, and Heimdallr could not see them upon earth. But Thor was convinced that Loki had stolen Harry away to punish him, to defile him in unmentionable ways, but Odin, who understood enough of Loki, at least, to know that when he loved he loved fiercely, pushed Thor’s concerns to the back of his mind. Instead, he added planning a wedding to the list of things to do along with planning Thor’s coronation.
Still, Loki had in fact brought Harry to Jötunheimr. But he travelled by the shadow ways, and it was easy enough to conceal himself from the Jötuns around him. Several had passed by their cave over the last two days, and not one had yet to discover them. Loki would be happy to hide here forever, with his Harry, and lick his wounds, to stew in Harry’s reasons and understanding of his father’s words, to indulge himself in the love of the only one to put him before Thor, of whispered words and gentle kisses and desperate passions that made his heart clench for this, all of this, for eternity.
“You are my family,” Loki told him finally, pulling Harry down so that they lay side by side, in the ice wastes of Jötunheimr, hidden by magic in a cave. Despite the loss of his promised throne, Loki was content. He felt cheated, yes, angry and jealous, yes, but if his father had not promised in the first place then Loki would not have gone for Harry, so it was, he told himself, better to have had and lost than to never have had at all, but perhaps he was misquoting.
“How would you like to extend your family?” Harry asked with a coy smile on his lips. Loki merely looked confused, his eyebrows drew down together and crow’s feet appeared at the corners of his eyes as he squinted in deep thought. Harry took pity on him after five minutes of silence. Laughing, he said, “I was going to wait until we were married because you seemed so set about marrying first, but we’re not married still, and I sort of assumed you’d be the sort to rush through it so there was no chance anyone could change their minds.”
Loki interrupted him with a scowl. “I would have wed you the first day you were brought to Asgard, but for Thor. He insists this is some trick I am playing upon you and demands I let you return to Midgard or at least waste time proving the affections I hold for you to him when proof to you is all that matters. Accepting my proposal is all that is required to know that I have proved myself to you!”
Harry took his hands, thumbs rubbing circles lightly to calm him. “I told myself that if we weren’t married by Yule, I’d tell you then because it would make a nice gift. But, well, when you decide to go back to Asgard-”
“If,” Loki interrupted, his jaw clenched in stubbornness.
“When,” Harry repeated, for he and Loki both knew well that Loki would miss his home eventually, though he mightn’t miss the people he had left behind, “you go back to Asgard, you can tell Thor from me that we’ll be married before June or it’ll be his fault his nephew is a bastard.”
Harry didn’t particularly like that word, but it was the word Purebloods used to describe children born outside of marriage, and if Loki’s reasons for wanting to be married first was for the same traditions the Purebloods had, bastard was probably the same word they used as well. Loki glanced at him, eyes narrowed, searching his face for a lie. Harry stared back at him, both of his hands pressed to his stomach.
“Finite,” he whispered. Ansuz burned upon his neck for a moment, as the glamour across his stomach dissipated. Where it had once been flat and tight, Harry’s stomach was now hard to touch with the smallest of curves to it. Being only eleven-weeks pregnant meant that there wasn’t much to look at yet, but Harry knew that now he had stopped hiding it, Loki would notice the changes immediately.
“You are with child,” he whispered. There was something in his voice that made Harry’s heart ache, a longing so profound that Harry wished the child had been born already so he could hand him over to Loki to hold and worship.
The Asgardian reached forward tentatively to press both hands over Harry’s on the boy’s stomach. He pressed against something, stretching the skin taunt, though it was only a small stretch at the moment. But it would grow, Loki knew. His own stomach had been rather big before he birthed Sleipnir and Angrboða had grown large with their three children as well. Loki had no idea that the child would be half-Jötun from his side of the family, having previously blamed Angrboða for their children’s monstrous sizes and appearances. He had no idea how dangerous the pregnancy would be for Harry, or that the boy would die in labour, only to survive by the mercy of Death and his Hallows, and as he did not know, he was glad for the pregnancy, for the child that Odin could not take away.
He had thought he’d be angry if Harry were to become pregnant, back when he had first met the boy, when he had told him that their children must be legitimate. He would have thought he’d be disappointed in himself for breaking his own vow, for dishonouring the one he loved in such a blatant way, for the shame was growing within his stomach and though magic could hide it nothing would hide the end result. But instead Loki was pleased, with himself for impregnating his lover without even having to try, with Harry for being pleased with the pregnancy enough to consider it a ‘gift’ to him, and with this child solely for existing. As the child of his consort, of his husband, there was no reason for Odin to take him away. There was no prophecy marking this child and it’s mother was human, not Jötun, and Loki had performed no magic for the conception to occur, and the child would be normal, well, half-human and half-god, but normal enough to appease Odin’s fears of Loki reproducing. Or at least, Loki thought so.
“I want many, many more,” Loki whispered, his mouth moving against Harry’s stomach, lips peppering kisses everywhere he could reach, fingers pressing down gently against the firmness, imaging their child beneath them, within Harry, just waiting to meet them. “I love you,” Loki murmured against tanned skin, “I love you both so much.”
“We love you too.”
Loki brought them back to Asgard two hours later, after making love to Harry twice more in the snow and cleaning them up. He was happy and content and excited and in love, but terrified at the same time because he was going to be a father again and this time he would be allowed to keep the child and he hadn’t the first clue what to do with it, but he was happy. Until he made the mistake of telling his father exactly why it was that he wanted to get married then and there.
“There’s no time for you to plan a wedding, father!” Loki had insisted, glancing back at Harry with misty eyes. Harry stood behind him, his hands behind his back, and the glamour on his stomach cancelled. “We must be married before May at the latest, for Harry is due in June and children have the inconvenient habit of arriving early and ruining well laid out plans. This child, Harry’s child, will be legitimate.”
Frigga had hugged them, excited for them, congratulating them as her hands pressed against Harry’s stomach and the treasure that grew within. Thor glanced between harry and his stomach with shock on his face. There was jealousy there, that the child was not his, that Harry was not his, but the obvious pleasure on his brother’s face was enough to dispel that jealousy. He was uneasy still, but he pulled Loki into an exuberant hug, congratulating the father-to-be and reaching out to place his own hands upon his unborn nephew.
Odin stood, all the while, ignored by the celebrating family. His remaining eye slipped closed and he saw behind it images that haunted him still. Of Laufey, who sired Loki. In turn, Loki had sired Fenrir, the wolf who would devour the gods during Ragnarök, and Hel the giantess who ruled over Niflheimr and Jörmungandr the world serpent who would one day swallow Midgard whole. And now this child, Odin thought, feeling suddenly bone weary. What sort of a monster would this child be, he wondered, sired by the god of chaos, the son of a god, who was also a Frost Giant, and a mortal who would likely die before the child reached full term. Would it not be kinder to kill the child now, Odin wondered, sighing deeply.
What kind of a monster would Odin be if he allowed Loki’s love for this child to kill an innocent mortal?
If the mortal wanted children badly enough, the All Father told himself in a poor attempt at making the situation seem better than it was and to lessen the guilt he knew he would feel later on, Thor would be capable of giving him some.
“No!” Odin bellowed, and around him his family fell silent. “No,” he said again. He did not explain what it was he was denying, but no one dared to question him for it was obvious the man was enraged by something. He left the room, still angry, and they watched him leave. Thor smiled softly to himself, knowing that he was about to get what he wanted, even if Harry did now come part and parcel with a nephew he had not been expecting.
Frigga turned to each of them, looking nervous and confused, before she left the room in search of her husband. She knew he did not like the idea of Loki having more children, but surely the child of a mortal could not be dangerous?
Harry glanced at Loki, who was staring angrily in the direction his father had disappeared. Loki, sensing his gaze upon him, turned to face Harry, who offered him a small smile in return for the shrug of confusion Loki gave him.
“Maybe we should elope?” Harry suggested, only half joking.
Loki smiled, but not understanding the meaning of the word, let it pass without response. He choose instead to pull Harry into his arms, Harry’s back to his chest, so that his chin rested on his lover’s head and his hands covered their unborn child completely.
“I will speak to him in the morning,” Loki promised softly, “but it is well passed time for the two of you to be in bed. I will carry you.” Without giving Harry a chance to respond, Loki swept the Wizard into his arms, bridal style. They left the room like that, Loki walking, and Harry curled against him, head on a broad shoulder and arms wrapped around a pale throat as his lips pressed kisses to the hollow of Loki's throat. Thor watched them leave, half tempted to throw Mjölnir at his brother’s head, if not for the fact that Harry would be injured as well, and so he restrained himself. He settled, instead, for glaring holes in Loki’s retreating form, comforting himself with the knowledge that soon enough Harry would be in his arms instead.
XXX
January 8th 2000. Asgard.
When he had explained it to Frigga, she had cried, horrible heaving sobs of despair. When he had told Thor of his decision the boy had offered him a tight smile and a concerned sigh, but no amount of acting could hide the desire that lit up his blue eyes. It had made more sense as Odin practised this speech in front of a mirror, telling his reflection that this was for the best, that this was necessary and that Loki would understand eventually. In time, once the mortal was dead and gone and their never-would-be child long forgotten, Thor and Loki would look back on this period of their ever-long lives and laugh over it, reminding themselves of that one time a human almost came between them, had almost ruined them, but didn’t, because Odin had done what was best for them all.
But now that he was seated before Loki and Harry, Thor and Frigga, all at once, he suddenly wasn’t so sure this was a good idea. No, he still did not want this child to exist, never a child of Loki’s could be born and raised upon Asgard, nor should they be suffered to live yet he had not had the heart to murder the others, merely banished them. And where could he banish this child? The half-human who would not survive on Niflheimr or Alfheimr or Jötunheimr, only on earth or Asgard, both within Loki’s reach, both within reach of the prophecy, and Odin had kept the peace for far too long to allow this child to bring about Ragnarök while he was still seated upon the throne of Asgard.
Frigga was still crying, softly this time at least. Fat tears slid down her cheeks, and she kept her face turned to the floor, too ashamed to look upon either of her son’s, because Odin had her so afraid of this child that she hadn’t even attempted to dissuade him.
Thor watched in silence, half-shocked at Loki’s audacity as he actually attempted to attack the king. Guards pulled him back, one restraining either arm, but the sorcerer spat and hissed at his father, screaming profanities in a language that Harry could not understand, but with such anger that he flinched at every shout anyway.
Odin looked tired, exhausted in fact, but he remained resolute. If Harry married Thor, he could remain in Asgard and Loki would be permitted to see him whenever he wished and vice versa. It wasn’t as if Odin was forcing them to exist at opposite ends of the earth, nor was he refusing to allow them their relations. If Thor was willing to share his new husband with his brother, then that was Thor’s choice, Loki could fuck Harry as many times as he liked, in as many ways and places, in front of an audience for all Odin cared for that. But, by becoming Thor’s spouse, the only children he would be permitted to bare, were his husbands. Never his lover’s. Never Loki’s. There were potions that could be rid of this child, before Harry got too attached to it, and they were painless and easy to prepare, and the servant women kept some on hand so they needn’t wait too long at any rate.
Harry would no longer be pregnant by Loki, but he would be there, with Loki. Married to Thor. If the boy really wanted to carry a child, Thor would oblige him, Odin was sure. Judging from the looks his eldest son was casting the mortal’s way, Thor would enjoy the practise at least.
“No!” Harry whispered suddenly. It was the first word he had said since entering the room, and despite it being whispered so softly, it had the effect of silencing every other person in the room immediately. Thor stopped trying to calm his brother, Loki stopped screaming abuse at his father, Frigga stopped crying though her cheeks remained wet, and the guards stopped demanding Loki apologise to the king.
They all turned to look at the shorter male. He was small, face extremely pale as he swayed on his feet from shock and disgust and terror, but his spine was straight and his stomach was a little bigger than it was two weeks ago, and his hands closed over the bump carefully as he glared Odin down.
“I spent my whole life being told what to do because someone thought they knew better than me what was best for me. And I left.” He glanced around the room, throwing glares at everyone but Loki, whose eyes had closed in grief, fully expecting Harry to be taken from him. “If you think for one second that you can order me to marry someone I don’t want to marry and don’t love, or do anything to hurt my baby, or try to tell me it’s ‘for the greater good’ again and think you’ll get away with it, you have another thing coming!” Odin opened his mouth, but Harry merely raised a hand to silence him. The guards gasped, for never had anyone been so disrespectful to their king. And even Odin looked taken aback, but he remained silent, more out of shock than any respect for Harry’s wishes.
“If you interrupt me again I will curse you, and it will fucking hurt, so don’t test me, old man! I am hormonal and pissed off and you upset Loki and my back hurts and I got sick this morning, so just fuck you in my opinion. You will not come near my baby. You will not interfere with mine and Loki’s relationship, and unless Loki wants me to leave, because he wants me to and not because you told him to make me leave, then I’m staying right here, with him, marrying him, and we are having this baby and you will butt out. Or I’ll go back to earth and keep my baby there and I promise you, you won’t find either of us if I choose to hide from you.”
“And I’ll go with them, if they will have me?” Loki whispered, breaking the desperate silence that had settled over the room once Harry stopped shouting.
Harry walked to Loki, the guards falling away from the sorcerer without prompting. The younger man offered a soft smile, green eyes bright, and tilted his chin up for a kiss, accepting Loki without words with that action, by simply smiling at him. Loki kissed him, dragging Harry forward by the biceps until the boy was pressed tightly against him, his stomach a now familiar pressure against his own as they stood with no room between them, mouths moving together, hands grasping, and tongues tasting. Harry smiled widely, his lips moving against Loki’s, who paused in his kisses to offer a wider smile of his own, one that made his whole face light up.
“Thank you,” he breathed against Harry’s mouth. “No one has ever stood up for me that way before.”
“Get used to it,” Harry told him, offering another smile and a light squeeze of his hand on Loki’s arm in comfort. He knew what it was like to grow up being second best, to feel unwanted and unloved, though he actually was and at the time Loki wasn’t. “Are we done here?” Harry asked Odin, without even turning around to face him.
“There is a prophecy-” The king began.
The moment the word left his mouth Loki went stiff in his arms, body tense and battle ready, even as his heart lodged in his throat. He had always thought the prophecy regarded the mother he had chosen for those children, but now, now it appeared the prophecy was all about his children regardless of who bore them. For they were his, and therein lay the problem.
“Bullshit.” Harry hissed, snapping around on his heels to stalk towards the king again. “My life was ruined by a prophecy once, and you know why? Because some meddling old man, like you, thought he knew what was best. Shall I tell you the best thing about prophecies? If you ignore them, they go away.” Loki reached forward to pull Harry backwards, to draw him back into his arms and away from Odin’s reach. “So don’t give me that rubbish and expect me to believe it just because you think it’s true. You are not always right Odin Kronosson, All Father,” Harry spat the word like an insult, anger boiling in his chest, and his magic surging beneath his skin.
Instinct demanded that he defend his child, and pride insisted he defend his lover and his choice of lover. Loyalty expected the same, but there was the tiniest part of him, deep within, that cocked an ear and listened, considered, because while he might not believe in Ragnarök or a prophecy, it didn’t mean that someone else wouldn’t accidently set it into motion. But no, because this was still his child, his first real flesh and blood family member since he was fifteen-months-old, and Loki had been so breathless when he had been told, so reverent and honoured, and Harry wanted this child for himself who so wanted a family and for Loki who had been so denied one. Prophecy or no prophecy, he would defend this child until his last breath, and Odin seemed to realise that, for he suddenly changed tactics.
Harry was half-way to the door, hand in hand once more with Loki, when Odin spoke again. “The child will kill you.”
It was so… certain, the way he said it, not even a hint of doubt in the words, whereas he had doubted himself as he spoke of replacing this child with one of Thor’s.
“What?” Loki asked, turning to face his father. There was fear in his eyes, and desperation on his face, and it made Harry’s heart ache to see him succumb to his father’s lies so easily simply because they played on all of Loki’s fears.
“No he won’t.” Harry said, just as certain. He grasped Loki’s face between both hands, thumbs circling his cheeks, soft and comforting, the way he did when ever Loki lost his temper and needed a moment to calm himself before speaking. “He won’t kill me, I promise you.”
“The child won’t, no, I suppose. But the pregnancy will.” And because Odin could still not bring himself to admit that Loki was a Frost Giant, a Jötun, and not an Asgardian, because as far as Odin was concerned he was his son and his race did not matter, he thought up the next best excuse. “Why do you think there are no other half-mortal, half-Asgardian children in existence, my son?” He said to Loki, standing from his throne at last to make his way towards them, to pull Loki from Harry’s arms and shake him lightly as if to make him see sense. “His body will not be able to handle the pregnancy; it will kill him, my child.”
Thor’s eyes were wide with horror at the thought. He had been willing to allow Harry to keep Loki’s child, to birth and raise it after their own marriage, and to never begrudge his brother that bond with Thor’s husband, but his father had been adamant that the child must die before its birth. He had never said why, exactly, though his mother had mumbled something about a prophecy before she started to cry again, the week before, and his father had insisted that Thor could replace the child with one of his own.
“Is this true, father?” Thor asked, hand clenching around Mjölnir’s handle. “You said I could sire upon him, would that child not kill him also?”
Odin had hoped Thor would stay silent, had hoped he would let this all pass without comment, but of course he did not. Thor simply had to insist upon making the conversation about him, of turning what would have been a simple lie into an extravagant one, and though they were not biologically related one could assume that Loki had inherit the talent from his father before him. Liesmith, indeed.
“Yes. I had hoped to speak with Harry afterwards, to allow him to be the one to dissuade you from the idea. Loki, when you brought back a man I thought it a blessing, but whatever magic you have cast upon him, you must uncast before he marries your brother. A child, any child, will kill him.” Odin tried to reason with them again. He caught the obstinate look upon Harry’s face, and wondered for a moment if the boy would agree to a termination if Odin told him that the father of that child was capable of becoming a seven foot tall ice giant (still short compared to the rest of his race) but large enough that the child within him would not be a comfortable size and that its size alone would be enough to crush most of his internal organs before the labour could even begin. The labour itself, if magic had indeed caused this pregnancy, would be natural, and birthing a child even the size of a small giant would tear the boy apart. There was no healing from some injuries, and Odin’s involvement now should be taken as a blessing, Harry should be grateful for it and his interference, and perhaps he would be if he could catch Harry alone to explain this to him. Spitting out Loki’s true parentage here and now would only do more harm than good, and so he continued to keep the secret tight to his chest, with both hands, unwilling to let it go.
“The child will not kill me.” Harry repeated again, mostly to himself as no one else really seemed to be paying him much attention.
“Yes it will.” Odin whispered back, turning away from an angry Thor and avoiding the haunted eyes of Loki.
“Like you though Sigyn’s slap had killed me? Don’t deny it, I could tell by the look upon your face that you thought she’d broken my neck.” She had, actually, but Odin didn’t need to know that, and neither did Loki. Loki knew rune magic had healed him and protected him from injury, but he didn’t know that the Deathly Hallows had returned him to life once more, continuing to fulfil its duty to the master over death. “The fact is that it didn’t kill me, and if this is your only argument against this child, because all of those others were crap, then I’m having this baby and you can see your grandson or you cannot. It’s your choice. Just like this pregnancy is my choice, not yours.”
He resolved to make himself a Portkey, if it was possible, to bring him to Hogwarts or Gringotts, in case Odin ever tried to do anything to the baby and Loki wasn’t there to back him up. There had to be some way of emulating the way Loki travelled between worlds and trapping it into magic familiar to Harry so that he could harness it as well. There needed to be.
Harry snapped himself from his thoughts and turned to Loki again then, silently holding out his hand. Loki took it, and though his face was calm, his eyes burned with grief and terror and Harry hated seeing it upon him.
I’m fine, Harry’s smile told him just as his words had done earlier.
I’ll be fine, he said with his kisses, before allowing Loki to lead him from the throne room in silence.
He wouldn’t be fine, Harry realised, not completely. The Hallows wouldn’t allow him to die, and the runes would heal blood, bruises and broken bones, but the pregnancy was going to be a hard one the further along it progressed. Unless Harry was having twins, which he doubted, the child was going to be huge. He had seen pregnant people before, and normally he wouldn’t have been able to tell, even while staring at them that they were with child until they were at least four months pregnant, never mind barely three months! But you could see the swell of Harry’s stomach already, small as it was it was big enough to set off warning bells in Harry’s subconscious. He didn’t regret his child, and he’d never resent it or any pain it caused him. Something was off about it though, and either the rate at which it was growing or the size it was growing to, but even if the child did kill him, it would have been worth every moment he remained dead and every injury the child inflicted upon him, to eventually hold the child in his arms.
Loki didn’t need to be there for the birth.
He’d go to madam Pomfrey, he supposed, lost in thought as he slid into bed beside his fiancé, because she knew what he was capable of and had already experienced some of the weirdness in his life. She could remove the child magically, which hopefully wouldn’t injure him all that much at all. Even if the child did cause him injury, Loki could remain outside of the room, away from the pain and bloodshed and tears, away from the death, and all of Loki’s memories of the birth would be of their child in Harry’s arms waiting to meet him, and not of Harry pale, still and bloody, or pale, screaming and bloody.
“Harry?” Loki whispered, watching his lover lie on his back with both hands pressed to his stomach. Harry stared up at the ceiling, thinking deep thoughts, but he turned his head at the sound of Loki’s voice and gazed into matching green eyes. “Everything will be fine.” He said it more for his sake than for Harry’s, and the young man knew it.
Harry laughed softly, low and throaty and rolled onto his side making the bulge of his stomach that much more pronounced. “I know,” he said. And that was that.
The next morning, Harry explained what elopement was, and Loki took him in secret to Las Vegas, first, and then later to London where Harry showed him into the Ministry of Magic, conscious of the pointed fingers and loud gasps of surprise as their Saviour moved among the Wizards. Loki followed Harry first to a man dressed in a white polyester one piece and a bad wig and then to an elderly Wizard in deep burgundy robes, and they were married twice, once in the eyes of Muggles and once for Wizardkind, and then all that was left was to announce the union to Asgard, to consummate it (though they had done that several times before the marriage already, not that they weren’t willing to do so again), then if the desire arose profess themselves before Frigga and ask for her blessing. Though, judging from her silent support of Odin the evening before, Loki doubted an Asgardian ceremony would be occurring any time soon.
But he had Harry, before the eyes of the human God and the pagan ones, and his family would know of what they had done. The other Norse gods did not matter, for Loki was, to Harry, the only important one there was. And Loki was the one Harry had just married.
XXX
March 21st 2000. Asgard.
At just over six months pregnant Harry was much bigger than the Asgardians had expected him to be, except Odin and Frigga who knew the truth about the child he carried, and Harry himself who had long-ago guessed that the baby was bigger than a normal child. It was hard for Loki to hold Harry close enough to bring him to earth for appointments with the human healer in Hogwarts, so they had resorted to using the bifrost, which Heimdallr had kept closed to them the first time until Harry had lost his temper, accidentally knocked the man unconscious, and Loki never one to miss an opportunity opened the bifrost himself. Earth did not explode, so Heimdallr must have woken up soon enough and closed the bifrost in time. He had ended up with a headache that wouldn’t quit for days and a strong aversion to be anywhere near a pregnant Harry Potter, and so the bifrost was open to them whenever Harry had need of it.
Sex was impossible unless Harry lay on his side and Loki took him from behind, which wasn’t his favourite position, but he was horny all of the time and that was the only position he was getting anything from Loki in, so he would learn to love it for the next month and a half until sex was off the table completely.
Harry’s back hurt all the time, and his ankles as well, and his ribs and hips, and every time the child kicked within him Harry had to bite back a scream because he wouldn’t give Odin the satisfaction of knowing he had been right. The child was killing him from the inside, beating at his kidneys and bladder and pushing up his lungs and stomach, and it was agony. With every movement the child made lately, something within him tore, and though magic healed him immediately, the elder wand working without a command, the pain lingered in every joint and muscle, and then the child would shift again and it would begin anew. Over and over, and Loki would watch him with a tortured expression on his face, wanting to help but unable to because he didn’t know why Harry was in so much pain, or why the child was so big, and Odin still would not tell him.
Loki had considered that Odin was correct, and that this child was a monster, but all of earth’s ultra sounds had shown him a normal human baby: ten fingers, ten toes, one head, two legs with a tiny penis between them, two arms, and a heartbeat. A baby, not a snake, or a wolf, or an eight-legged horse, or a girl who was more corpse than girl. Just a baby. One that was killing Harry a little more each day.
But Harry would smile at him through the pain, would laugh when someone asked if he needed to go to the healing room and wave them off, because by the time they brought him there he wouldn’t need healing anymore thanks to magic, and every one believed that Loki was the one healing him. And how selfish he was, Loki, to allow his husband to suffer such pain, to mask it all beneath his magic and trickery, while forcing the poor mortal to give Loki what he wanted with no compensation. Harry would smile at them all, and tell Loki to ignore the comments, while holding one hand to his back and the other cupped under his distended stomach, because the child was heavy and large and touching him made the baby stay still for minutes at a time at least. He would announce then, loudly, that Loki would need to compensate him, to appease his people, and would demand that the god bring him back to their rooms and make love to him until Harry was satisfied and compensated and all was well.
Loki had looked startled the first time Harry had done it, along with everyone else around them, many of whom also looked scandalised. But now he merely grinned in Harry’s direction, all teeth like a shark and the glint of mischief in his eyes. He would sigh resignedly as he swept Harry off of his feet, exclaiming all the while that there would need to be an army of lovers to satisfy Harry’s appetite of lust. Loki would carry Harry from the room, or the hallway, or the banquet hall, or gardens if that was where they were, and behind them would trail ten illusions, all copies of Loki, each smirking or laughing or chuckling, glancing around wildly in excitement, or staring at Harry with lust, or shooting Thor smug looks that the real Loki kept hidden in Harry’s hair.
Harry laughed softly against Loki’s throat each time, ignoring the pain in his stomach, because he knew that the moment Loki was within him the child would be happy. He wouldn’t move, and he wouldn’t hurt, and he wouldn’t injure. It was as if he knew that his father was there with them, within Harry alongside the child, a part of them both, and it made the baby happy. When they had finished making love, despite the horribly uncomfortable position, Harry would insist on falling asleep with Loki still within him, and the moment Loki pulled out and separated their bodies and attempted to clean them up, Harry would gasp his way to wakefulness, clutching at his stomach as agony rippled through him.
If he knew what was wrong, why this was happening, he could find magic to fix it. But he didn’t know, and Loki didn’t know, and despite attempting to awkwardly seduce the answer out of Thor months ago, the future king of Asgard did not know either. Odin knew, and Harry was convinced the man kept it to himself out of spite, perhaps hoping that the child would die in labour when Harry did. But Harry wouldn’t let that happen. He had reconciled with Hermione the first time he had travelled to Midgard to see Madam Pomfrey, and while they were not as close as they used to be, she was excited for him and his baby and his marriage and sad that she had missed so much of it all. But she had promised to assist, and she scored through book after book on Norse mythology to find anything that might help him. She had found one word that hinted at something greater, some deeper meaning behind what was happening to Harry, but she had yet to tell him yet about it.
‘Adopted’ didn’t mean much unless she could figure out where Loki had been adopted from.
XXX
May 20th 2000. Asgard.
The child was old enough to survive independently of its mother now. Or at least that was what Madam Pomfrey had told him. It would be safe to perform a caesarean and remove the child. The baby would survive, at Hogwarts, surrounded by magic, and Harry wouldn’t have to suffer horrific internal injuries for another month and a half.
He carried the Portkey he had convinced Loki to help him create on his person everywhere he went now. It would be easy enough to send him into an early labour, if Odin was still so desperate to be rid of the baby, and kill the child without anyone being the wiser of his foul play. It would be played off as a natural death, one of a child too small to be born yet, too early, an unfair death. On Asgard, there was a higher infant mortality rate than what Harry would have attributed to a race of gods, but then, Loki was one of a very few who could perform magic successfully, the others were only any good for hunting or killing. It was like living in the middle ages, and Harry was increasingly glad that he had convinced Loki to bring him to Midgard for the birth of their child, assuming that nothing happened between now and the end of June, where there would be magic and sonographs and painkillers, real painkillers, not just stupid leaves that the healer told him to press against his tongue which did jack shit for him.
Harry made his way through the courtyard, with his arm around Sif’s shoulders and hers around his waist. Sif was the only one of Thor’s friends who considered Loki a friend too. The others put up with him because he was Thor’s brother, but Sif genuinely liked him, even if he had cut her hair off that one time as a prank, but he had gotten it back to its former splendour and he had paid the price without complaint for his trickery. He had lost Mjölnir to his brother and he had been held down while his lips were sewn shut, and Loki had never once held her to blame for it, despite it being her idea to trick the dwarves into making him weapons while they retrieved her hair. Where Thor wanted Harry because he thought he loved him, and yes Thor was possessive and protective and he flinched with every cry of pain Harry produced, he could never love the boy as Loki did. It made Sif happy to see Loki so happy, to see him with more than just her and Thor for company, more than a brother and the brother’s friend to call his friend. And she showed her pleasure at the situation by accompanying Harry to the healing room for those useless leaves that were supposed to dull pain but that Harry seemed to be immune to, and allowing him to lean on her as he tried to walk through the castle, though they never strayed too far from a guard or Loki’s rooms, and Harry’s Portkey was always there if he needed it.
“Thanks,” Harry said for the second time since Sif had knocked on Loki’s bed chamber door to collect him.
“You are welcome, Harry Lokislove,” she told him with a smile. That was her nickname for him, and it made Harry smile, because for once it was a nickname that he liked and that he was proud of. He responded by tugging lightly on her ponytail, offering her a half-smile as they continued to walk across the courtyard.
It was slow going, because Harry couldn’t move very fast, or even a little fast for that matter, but Sif never complained. In fact, she was the only one other than Loki and Frigga and Thor to make Harry feel welcomed. Thor sort of creeped him out, considering the man wanted to marry him and make his own babies with Harry, apparently whether he was willing or not, and Harry didn’t trust Frigga since the day Odin had tried to separate him and Loki. He knew she hadn’t wanted to go against her husband, because every fight Harry and Ron had had since he and Hermione got together meant that it was automatically a fight between the three of them with Hermione on Ron’s side, and he supposed the same thing went for him when anyone started on Loki: Harry defended his lover, like Frigga supported her husband, whether she agreed with his decision didn’t matter. He still didn’t want to be alone with her though. But Sif had never done anything but congratulate him and offer him some mead once instead of those leaves to dull the pain.
Harry had declined, but thanked her politely.
He heard them arguing before he saw them, Thor and Loki in the centre of the courtyard, squaring off against one another. Thor had his hammer and Loki his sceptre and each of them were scowling, looking darker than any storm Harry had ever seen. Not that he had seen one in a long while, mind you, because his rune magic hadn’t worked, with the exception of Ansuz to glamour his body and the slow fading bruises on his stomach that healed on the inside but not the outside and Sowelu which kept him from dying, since he hit his second trimester. He hadn’t told Loki though, not wanting the man to worry about the lack of Harry’s magic as well as the physical injuries. He still had the elder wand, though he only used it when necessary, because it made him stick out among the Asgardians whose only magic stemmed from runes or potions or whatever the hell Loki could do, though Harry was starting to think that it wasn’t Asgardian either.
Odin stood to one side, frowning and having given up on trying to get between them. He saw Harry before either of his sons did, and because he honestly didn’t want to hurt the mortal (just the child within him) he held up a hand to warn him to stay away.
The hammer met the sceptre with a loud crash, following by the screech of metal as Loki swept the sceptre upwards and hit Thor in the face. From the looks of them both, they appeared to have been at it for a while already. It was purely coincidence that the moment Harry was within striking distance, Loki knocked Thor off of his feet, and Thor happened to lose his grip on the mighty Mjölnir. It flew through the air, and Sif who had dropped into a deep bow at the sight of Odin tried to push Harry aside. But she was on one knee, and she unbalanced before she managed to unbalance Harry, though fortunately for Loki’s son her attempt to save him had the effect of making him stumble forward just before the hammer hit him. Mjölnir would have hit him straight in the stomach, except as he wobbled from Sif’s shove, he had leant forward, bending slightly over his belly and the hammer hit him in the head instead.
It was instant. It was painless. And it happened in less than the time it took for Loki to scream.
Harry crumbled to the floor like a puppet whose strings had been cut, and Mjölnir hit the ground behind him so hard it drilled through the concrete. There wasn’t much of the left side of Harry’s head remaining. Sowelu was dark above Harry’s right eye, and his left eye was missing, along with most of his jaw, and blood spread out upon the ground around where he lay like a halo as Loki screamed and desperately tried to shake him awake.
When Harry didn’t wake, as he had done when Sigyn had snapped his neck, Loki turned on his brother. His teeth were bared and his fingers curled into claws as nails sharpened and grew and the skin around his narrowed eyes turned a translucent blue. “I’ll kill you!” He snarled as he launched himself at Thor. It took Sif and four other guards to drag Loki off of Thor, who had stayed still and silent as Loki beat him bloody with his bare fists. Thor’s eyes stayed fixed on what remained of Harry, and the guilt in them was unbearable to look at, and Sif couldn’t deny that Thor had loved him, just not as much as Loki had.
Odin closed his eyes tightly, as he clasped both hands together in front of his chest and murmured a soft prayer for the mortal and the child, both of whom had passed on. His intention when he had allowed his son’s to fight in the place that he knew Harry always passed by once at day just before the midday meal had not been to harm him. Odin had merely hoped the shock of watching them fight, as they had never fought around him before with more than sharp words, would frighten him into leaving, or shock him into labour, and if the child was born here he would be vulnerable and if it were born a monster on Midgard the humans would be quick to kill it regardless.
And yet, it had gotten out of hand, had gone in a direction Odin had neither intended it to nor foreseen, and now he had to live with the consequences of his actions and his decisions, and he felt sick as he watched Thor sink to his knees in grief, crawling across the ground to reach Harry, touching what was left of his face with shaking hands. Loki had already been dragged back in the direction of the castle; he would have to be sedated or chained until the anger passed, and then Odin knew he would sink into melancholy and depression, fall back into his old habit of causing others misery in order to hide his own, and the smile that Odin had grown used to seeing again since Harry had come into his life would likely never make another appearance. The thought that he had caused this, the agony of both of his sons, made Odin sink to his knees, one hand clutching his chest.
That night, he fell into the Odinsleep.
When Odin was brought inside, Thor continued to sit by Harry’s corpse, though he had not touched him again, not since his hand had slipped in the blood and he had ended up with his palm dipping into, and through, what should have been Harry’s cheek. Three guards came to the courtyard ten minutes later, having given Thor his time to say goodbye, but they waited until he was out of sight before they reached down to collect the body and the child still within him. The moment the first set of hands touched Harry’s bare skin, his one eye snapped open and while he could not gasp Harry made a horrible rattling noise low in his throat. His right hand flapped frantically, searching for the ring that Loki had given him which he wore on a cord around his neck, and there it was, there, and Harry was squeezing it, and trying to make his voice work, but no sound would escape his ruined mouth.
The guards were shouting between each other, screaming at anyone who could hear them to fetch a healer quickly, and one of them took off running in Thor’s direction, because Harry was alive and Thor would want to know.
The Elder wand burned against his arm, and Sowelu burned upon his head. Nauthiz, a slanted crucifix, drew itself upon his stomach, and its magic glowed faintly for a moment, and then a moment more, and within him the baby began to kick furiously, running out of time. Harry squeezed the Portkey harder, until the gem of the ring was cutting into the mark of Isa, and as his blood touched it, Harry disappeared with a ‘pop’.
Harry arrived in his designated bed at Hogwarts in the infirmary. Poppy joined him less than half a minute later, before promptly screaming at the sight of his face. When she raised her wand to try and fix the damage, Harry waved his hand at his stomach, gurgling something unintelligible, but she understood, because she pointed her wand away from his head and towards his baby. The first incantation numbed the area, and the second cut it open. The third spell lifted his child out from inside of him, whence it began to shriek and wail as the cold air struck his sensitive skin. The baby changed then, in Madam Pomfrey’s arms, until his face and arms and legs and belly were blue, every single inch of his skin, and there were these strange markings across his face, like grooves that you would probably see scratched into a rock face.
“Jötun,” Harry managed to rasp after Madam Pomfrey had cleaned the blood off his face, stomach and chest and closed the incision and somehow managed to regrow his jaw. His eye had grown back under its own powers, much like the vertebrae in his neck had reattached themselves and his spinal cord had unsnapped the last time he had died.
He held his hands out for his child, who cried until Harry had him pressed against his chest. He was big. Premature but almost fourteen pounds and he was strong and resilient, and as Harry fed him for the first time, Hermione finally figured out who Loki had been adopted from and what race that made his child.
When Odin awoke a week later, Loki was still being sedated because he kept attacking anyone who was too close to him as he woke up, instinctively wanting to inflict pain thinking that it must be Thor beside him, because Thor was the last one to touch him, last one for him to hit, before he couldn’t remember anything.
Thor, on the other hand, had rushed straight to Odin’s bedside and exclaimed, “Harry is alive!”
Frigga had explained to Odin, of how Harry had apparently woken up, and then disappeared as the guard who had fetched Thor was returning to the scene. Heimdallr wouldn’t let anyone use the bifrost without Odin’s permission, and Thor had begged for a chance to search Midgard for Harry, to bring him and the child home.
Loki woke again then, and Thor went to share the good news with his brother, for he had been kept away from Loki’s rooms until Odin woke. But no longer would he keep away, now that his father knew they would be let use the bifrost, and they could go together to find Harry, and Loki could no longer be angry for the accident and Thor might be able to sleep at night again. But Loki had been sedated again by the time Thor arrived, and in his absence Odin summoned all of the guards who had been called to tend to Harry’s body to his chambers and all but one returned to their duties minutes later.
The one who had told Thor of Harry’s resurrection wasn’t ever seen again.
The others were sadly, but firmly, instructed to inform Thor that their comrade had gone mad at the sight of Harry’s body and the unnecessary death of a child, of an heir to Asgard, and had tricked his mind into believing the boy still lived. Odin, who had finally climbed out of bed, teamed up with Heimdallr to first find Harry, though it was difficult, and they only succeeded because Harry had yet to place a new Fidelius over his new home because he was hoping that Loki would hear him screaming for him. Odin cloaked his presence, so that not even Loki, who could apparently sneak between Midgard and Asgard, would find him.
Thor, despite the guards words and promises and apologises, refused to believe them until Heimdallr lied straight to his face and simply said, “He no longer exists within the universe. I am sorry, Thor.”
And so, when Loki finally woke and was calm, Thor had nothing to tell him, because his good news was worthless now that Heimdallr had proved it false, and there were no apologises enough that could ever make his actions forgivable, accidental though they were.
Instead, Thor pressed his forehead to the outside of Loki’s door the first night his brother was allowed to fall into sleep without the help of potions and magic, and listened to Loki sob heartbrokenly. Every cry was a penance, every wail like a whip against his back, and every time Loki choked out the words “I love you” through his tears Thor closed his eyes and whispered them back, both to Loki and to Harry, and he remembered everything about that night because this was his burden to bear now. This was his gift to Loki, though the man would never know it. This was the way he would punish himself, for no one else on Asgard would dare to punish him for the heinous crime he had committed.
XXX
TBC (again).