But deep down within the cavities of his pained mind, past the chaotic night, was a mirage of constellations.
And then within his brilliant universe I was ensnared,
Helplessly smitten by the man behind the seas of dark matter.
(*Mature chapters are...
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Tonight, the palace smells of peaches and butter, the scent wafting through the walls. It's one of the last peach harvests of the season, the pink, plump fruits overflowing in baskets everywhere you step. The kitchen staff was on their feet the entire day, baking peach slices into everything they could. Pies and muffins and cakes and tarts to dip into hot cups of tea that billow atmospheres of steam.
They don't have peaches like this in Vanaheim.
We're the sister kingdom of Asgard, which means we always travel to Odin's palace during special occasions and harvests for trade. Mother and father converse with Frigga and Odin — Queen and king to queen and king. We travel about twenty times a season, which means we travel a lot. A lot of trading. A lot of parties. A lot of time for princes.
One prince, in particular.
Loki and I haven't always been fond of each other. In fact, we loathed each other in the beginning because we were forced to spend to much time together, stiff in formal dress and made to listen to the numbing drone of adults. We didn't come to like each other until we learned to sneak away. To read in the garden instead, or find a trick to play on Thor, or kiss each other on the cheek and then the lips, when we were absolutely sure that there was no one else watching. But that didn't start until our near-adulthood. Which was only fairly recently.
The smell of peaches makes me sigh. In this part of the corridor it's paired with cinnamon and warm. In the part by the guest chambers I was assigned, it's peaches and cream, the scent cold and scattered with hits of vanilla. I close my eyes and take it all in, the very last of it.
I hear a low chuckle from behind me.
I whip around. "What's so funny?"
Loki grins at me, a black lock fallen in just the right place to frame his brilliant green eyes. He adjusts his tunic. "You being mesmerized by the smell of peaches."
I frown. "I'll have to wait forever to smell them again."
He comes closer, the sounds of his footsteps light against the stone floor. He places a kiss to my forehead, then to my nose. "Your fascination is charming."
My frown melts into a smile. "You seem to have missed my lips." He gives another chuckle before obliging, tilting down now to let our mouths meet, his skin cool and bright. I sigh again in pleasure.
