You excitedly tap your foot against the hard floor of the bus, eagerly awaiting the next stop—your stop.

"Are you feeling nervous or excited, dear?" An elderly woman with white hair glanced at your quick tapping, then at your face, and a kind smile spread across her wrinkled features.

"Oh, um... maybe a bit of both?" You admit. "I'm meeting my favourite author today." You give her a wide grin.

"That's nice, sweetie—I didn't realise young ones like yourself still read books."

"I'm older than I look." You chuckled.

She squinted at you intently, bringing her face close to yours to inspect your plump, youthful skin. "No, you are still young. But perhaps you have an old soul." She added.

"Perhaps.." You muse.

The bus slowing to a stop cut short your conversation with the friendly bus lady, and you swiftly stood up and said your goodbyes.

"Nice meeting you, Margaret." You squeezed past her and made your way towards the open bus doors, but overheard Margaret mumble to herself.

"How did she know my name? I've never met her before." Her mutterings conveyed confusion.

You hopped off the bus with a spring in your step and as the bus whizzed by, you waved at Margaret; peering at you through the window with a face still full of bewilderment.

"Sweet lady." You utter to yourself before excitedly skipping towards a little book shop that was hidden down one of the many cobbled alleys.

As you pick up your pace, you hastily reach into your satchel bag and pull out your favourite book. The book was tatty from being so frequently read, but this precious copy was the only one you wanted signed by the author. However, in your eagerness to remove it, your clumsy hand let it slide from your hold, and it landed in a puddle of murky water.

You let out a piercing shriek of frustration at your own incompetence and yanked it out of the water in a hurry. But it was too late; the pages had been soaked through to the centre and smeared with dark sludge. Instantly, your heart broke, and you plunged to the lowest depths of sadness.

Deeply sighing, you carefully shake off the excess drip and wipe it clean with the dress you're wearing, disregarding the fact that your tea dress is white and now you look unkempt. But the salvage of your rare and cherished book was more important than any garment you own or your appearance.

Pouting all the way, you resume a slow walk towards your intended location, albeit now having lost some of your enthusiasm because of your mishap.

Finally finding the covert store after scouring many side streets, you push open the creaky front door. An old-fashioned bell sounds above you, and you can't help but be charmed by its quaint antiquity.

"May I help you?" A voice spoke, and you instantly turned your attention to the slender young man who smiled at you. Immediately your eyes were drawn to the name tag he wore, which read, "Hi, I'm Willy, ask me for help."

"Hi Willy, I require some assistance, if you will. Can you point me in the direction of the book signing for the author T.W.H.?"

His cheeks flushed bright red at the mention of his name, and a shy grin spread across his face. "Ofcourse! There is a bit of a queue, but feel free to pick up a book and read as you wait in line." You anticipated that he would start walking, at which point you would quickly follow, but he remained stationary and continued to gaze at you blankly.

After a prolonged moment of being ogled in silence, you opted to end the awkward encounter.

"Uh, Willy-"

"Yeah.." He grinned, rolling back and forth on the balls of his feet, a glint in his eyes.

"You were going to show me to the signing of T.W.H.."

"Oh. Oh right. Yes. The signing is just this way." He extended his arm outward, sounding both apologetic and embarrassed.

You reassuringly offer him a smile and another bashful grin appeared on his face.

A very long line greeted you as Willy led you to the back of the cosy bookstore, prompting you to release a disappointed sigh. However, you reminded yourself to be grateful. As after nearly getting lost on the highly convoluted public transport system, and the extra challenge of locating the bookstore because of its inconspicuous location, you were just lucky to be here.

Long line or not, you had to be appreciative, and now your excitement was quickly rekindled as you peered longingly down the long queue and caught a blurry glimpse of the author.

"If you need anything else, just call for Willy."

Your body violently jerked in startled fright upon hearing Willy's voice directly in your ear.

"—By the gods!" You exclaim aloud, your heart pounding rapidly in your chest.

You turn to Willy, who was still hovering quietly next to you in hopes of more interaction. You'd expected him to leave after guiding you to the line, but he had lingered while you were so engrossed in your thoughts, and now you see the obvious look of adoration on his face.

The realisation that he had a soft spot for you caused you to let out an exasperated sigh. He resembled a lovesick freshman, and you were in no mood to entertain him.

"I will call should I need any further assistance, thank you, Willy." You offer him an awkward half smile and quickly turn back to peer down the long line and notice that the majority in the queue were women. However, you cautiously cast your sight in Willy's direction again when you sense him still rooted in place by your side, and immediately your insides tightened up. He glanced at you as if he wanted to ask you something, and you knew precisely what he was hesitating to say.

"I um— might I, maybe... maybe take you out for a drink sometime?" Nerves caused him to ramble his words, but he exhaled in triumph after successfully piecing together the line he'd been rehearsing in his head since first meeting you.

A grimace formed on your face and guilt washed over you. Breaking the hearts of young men by saying no to a simple date was something you have never gotten used to.

You look at him with a sad expression as you prepare a reply of rejection. "Willy, I'm far too old for you."

He stared at you in a mystified manner. "But I'm twenty-one, and you look—well—you seem to be my age?" He questions with a great level of confusion.

You instantly regret bringing up age as an excuse out of a date, and now you feel stuck for what to say. "I-um, I'm sorry — it's just you're not my type."

His face immediately slumped and a pang of remorse plagued your heart. Quickly you try to make him feel better and blurt out words that were not entirely true. "I'M GAY!"

His head sprang up from its stooped position, and his eyes widened. "Oh, oh, okay." He grinned sheepishly before sudden boldness enveloped him. "So, like, are you very homosexual, or do you sort of mingle both ways?" He asked, hopeful.

You raise an eyebrow, surprised by his sudden brazen question. "I'm afraid I do not mingle...."

He sighed, but seemingly accepted your answer. "Well, alright. Again, should you need any assistance, just call—"

"—Call Willy, got it." You interject.

You watched him dart away, making sure he didn't stick around your presence this time, and then resumed your tedious wait at the back of the queue.

Seeing satisfied customers walk back up the line, each one holding a copy of their freshly autographed book close to their hearts, raised your level of anticipation. Now, excitement burns ablaze inside you and you can hardly keep still.

As you near the front, you observe him bent over, completely absorbed in the process of signing the numerous volumes that were being presented to him. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity of waiting, it was your turn.

With a deep breath, you put one foot in front of the other and approached the enormous table where the author of your favourite book was seated.

Smiling, you eagerly place your book down, the pages only slightly damp by this point; but, without even straightening out of his hunched position, he slid the book towards himself using only the tip of his finger.

You couldn't tell if the lengthy sigh he let out was the result of his tiredness from signing all day or his disapproval of the book condition. Pondering on it, you concluded that he was clearly disgusted with the soiled state of it, and immediately you felt embarrassed. Now you were relieved that he didn't glance up, as seeing your white dress caked in muck would also repulse him.

Your humiliation made you hesitant to speak, but you knew this meeting wasn't going to come again any time soon, if not ever. So you pushed aside your shame and blurted out what you admired about his written work.

"I enjoy reading your stories very much, and I especially like that Loki and Ember; the protagonists, always appear together in each adventure, even though the books aren't technically sequels. It's brilliant to keep using the same fan-favorite characters rather than introducing brand-new ones. In a sense, we witness their existence as they traverse all of history, seemingly able to live across centuries and eras. I have to admit, though, the first book, with its wonderful fantasy setting and how they first met, was my favourite of the series thus far."

No matter how thoughtfully you spoke, he didn't seem to be listening. You suspected that he'd probably heard the same phrases hundreds of times before, and since they were merely recycled words from other people's mouths, he'd grown sick of them and drowned them out. Yet, you waited with bated breath, hoping for a response.

Your heart leapt when you heard his low murmur, however, instead of engaging with you, he simply murmured the same repetitive reply.

"Who do I make it out for?" He continued to look down.

Disheartened that you received neither acknowledgement nor a proper response, and having no opportunity to catch a glimpse of your favourite author's face because he refused to look up, you replied sombrely.

"My name is Ember." Your once-enthusiastic tone was now tinged with disappointment.

Evidently, you were successful in capturing his attention, as he quickly raised his head after hearing the name you gave. As soon as he saw your face, he looked at you with such intensity that it was clear that he had finally snapped out of the monotonous trance of book signing.

Upon reflection, you realise that you were the last of what had to be hundreds of customers; of course he felt like crap after a lengthy stretch of scribbling his name. It could explain why he seemed so far removed from his supporters.

His eyes now bore into you as he remained almost dazed-looking, and if it were not for the faint whisper of, "Ember" that escaped his lips, you might have assumed he was a comatose statue. Yet, it didn't seem as though he was just repeating your name to verify what you had said; he whispered it in a manner that suggested recognition, as though he had called you by that name on a personal level before.

You rationalised that you were likely fabricating things because you were star-struck. However, you couldn't help but notice the peculiar little flips your stomach performed at the perceived intimacy of it all, a sensation you don't recall ever having before, yet oddly, it felt familiar, like déjà vu but with feelings. You enjoyed the feeling.

You decide to respond, assuming he wants confirmation of your name before he writes it down.

"Yes, my name is Ember, and it is spelled exactly the same as the main character in your books." You feel the need to explain the tatty appearance of it. "I'm sorry about its cover. It's simply that, in my rush here, I dropped it, and my bad luck caused it to fall into mud." You show a mournful expression.

He kept staring at your face and observed your animated expression as you spoke. It was as though he were absorbing it all in, mesmerised. Until your quizzing look shook him out of it. He quickly picked up the book, examined it, and after a brief moment spoke in a surprised tone. "This is my first book of the series; not many copies of these still exist."

"I know, and it is my favourite. Their beginning, their forbidden love, how they fought to be together, and then their secret wedding—it was beautiful."

He stared at you spellbound, and if you didn't catch his lips moving, you'd not have picked up his low murmuring. "It really was wonderful; you looked—I mean, Ember; my book character looked stunning."

"You certainly depicted her as such." You smile. "I visualised it so clearly that it's almost like an ingrained memory now—or maybe I've read it far too many times." You chuckle.

You expected him to laugh along with you, but he resumed his unmoving look. This time, the ocean blue of his eyes veiled grief. His hauntingly mournful stare invaded your soul, and like magnets, you were drawn to it. But because they awoke sentiments inside you that made you a little uneasy, you quickly tried to end the engagement.

"Well, I won't disturb you with more frivolous chitchat; if you would just sign my cherished book, then I'll leave and let you to rest."

"Leave?" He questioned, a distraught frown crossing his face.

"I have a bus to catch." You glance at him curiously.

He peered at the dirty book he still held and sighed deeply, his fingers burrowing into the leather cover as if he were suppressing intense emotions.

"Right.." His voice was low, almost sad. He opened the book and pressed the tip of his pen against the first page.

You noticed how he dithered before writing anything down, and you respectfully remind him of your name, in case his pause was due to him forgetting it.

"It's Ember." You say, "and should you wish to inscribe it with a short note of meaning, I would so very much appreciate it."

He smiled broadly. "I'd never forget your name sweetheart, and of course, I'd be pleased to oblige with a few personalised words."

Your face lit up.

As he searched for a clean area on the page to write down his message, you could have sworn you saw a short shimmer of green dance across the page for just a moment. It made you look twice. And just as he was ready to inscribe, the tip of his pen mysteriously cracked and blue ink gushed all over the paper, soaking all the sheets beneath it as well.

You gasp. Now, in addition to the gross brown puddle water, pen ink was seeping into your mud-covered book. Sure enough, you felt a tear form in your eye as a grimace of hopelessness spread across your face.

He saw your obvious look of despair and sought to cheer you up. "Oh, don't be sad. I have a spare copy, and I will gladly gift it to you."

"You do? And you will?" You wiped the tear that rolled down your cheek and perked up. "I can give you my address, and you can post—"

"—No!"  He snapped.

You furrowed your brows, prompting him to recognise his sharp tone and he reduced his volume to appear more calm. "No need for the long delay of snail mail; my residence is just around the corner." His innocent smile made you forget his snappiness.

Even with your reservations, the chance to own a rare copy of your favourite book in its pristine, unread state was too good for you to pass up. He watched as you considered his proposal, and when it became clear that you weren't immediately on board, he quickly added some additional details to increase the likelihood that you would agree with him.

"I can show you what else I am working on; maybe you can give me your feedback on it." He grins nervously.

He didn't need to add anything further to his offer, but the extras that he included made you immediately abandon your misgivings, and now excitement built up inside of you. He noticed the earlier sadness lifting from your features and the gleam shining back into your eyes, and in response to witnessing your joy, he had a broad grin on his face.

"So is that a yes?" He asked.

"Yes!" You yell out a little too energetically.

He chuckled and then jumped up from his seat to hurry to your side.

"Oh." You exclaim in surprise. "You want to go now, as in, right this minute?"

"No, I want to leave right this second." He replied with a grin. "You are my last encounter of the day, and unless I've signed every book, I can't officially clock off."

After grabbing your soiled yet still beloved book, you both begin to head towards the front of the store. His hand went to the lower part of your back, and instantly you felt a tingle shoot lower down in your body.

Leaving the bookstore, you expected to turn in the direction of the main road, but his hand on your body steered you right—deeper into the shaded alleyway. You halted abruptly and cast a suspicious glance in his direction.

He turned to look at you, and seeing your look of uncertainty, prompted him to reassuring you. "My car is located in the bookstore car park."

"Oh." You say, feeling a bit foolish for being so wary. But then you quickly stop again, drawing his attention back to you. "But you said that you live just around the corner; why did you bring the car?" Your question was very valid from your point of view.

"Well, Ember, I can't carry hundreds of copies of books to an author signing event, can I?" His tone was amused.

"Right, of course not, sorry—"

"There is no need to be sorry; it's good for a young, beautiful woman like yourself to be cautious in this day and age—deplorable crime against women is rife."

His intentions were probably good, but his remarks only made you realise how unwise it was to get into a stranger's car. And now you had to think up an excuse to get out of this situation. However, before you could even begin to construct a plausible lie, he proceeded to take your hand and guide you a few more strides until his car came into view.

The sight of his vehicle sparked an idea in your head, and you immediately set out to put it into action.

"Wow, this is a fancy car." You exclaim. "Such a shame my dress is dirty and I can't get in." You grip the hem of your dress and fan it outward, exposing the crusted muck that covered the frill. "I'll just jot down my address and... "

You're cut short when you see him opening the passenger-side door—ignoring your blatant attempt at excusing yourself.

"My lady." He said with a cheeky grin. "Your very rare book awaits just up the road; it would be a shame for it to sit and collect dust—I believe I own the very last copy, which is in mint condition, I should add."

Won over, you stepped forward and seated yourself inside his car, the cool leather against the back of your thighs was a welcome relief from the day's heat.

Without wasting any time, he hopped in the driver's seat and belted up quickly before pressing the ignition. The car's motor roared to life, but before he drove away, he discreetly reached for the button to lock the doors.

A recognisable loud click made you aware that he had purposely locked the doors, rendering you unable to get out without first disabling the lock. You turn your head to peer at him curiously, but he kept his focus on the road.

"It's a force of habit, but I suppose it's better to be safe than sorry, right?" He sneaked a peek at you with a sidelong glance and let out a small laugh.

You brush off your slight feelings of unnerve and idly mused out of the window while occasionally glancing at him driving. You didn't attempt small talk because you expected to arrive at his house in a matter of minutes, seeing as it was only "around the corner," but after ten minutes or so, you grew suspicious.

"You said your home is only located around the corner—we've been driving quite some time."

"Oh, it's just another twenty minutes or so."

You hid your shock as you spoke. "Hardly around the corner, is it?"

"Well, it's around.. a ..corner."

You scoff: "More like many corners."

Feeling your unease, he changed the subject. "How about we talk to pass the time away—tell me about yourself?"

Slightly apprehensive about divulging personal information, you decide to keep to the basics. But after a while of speaking about a bunch of your favourite activities and hobbies, he began to ask more in-depth questions.

"Do you have a family? — What's your favourite childhood memory?— Have you ever been in love —Do you ever feel as though you're different to others?"

His probing questions that came on rapidly caught you off guard.

"What is with all the questions?" You snap. "I feel like I'm being interrogated."

He pursed his lips and looked solemn, and immediately you felt guilty for being abruptly harsh.

"I'm sorry." You say lowly. "I'm just—I'm a private person." Your hands rested nervously in your lap as you twiddle your thumbs, suppressing an urge to pick at your nails.

From the corner of your eye, you notice his hand moving sharply towards you, and instinctively, you flinch away. But his hand persisted in motion, tenderly capturing yours and holding it.

"You don't need to be nervous, Ember. I won't ask you anymore questions, so don't start picking at the skin around your fingernails, okay."

You whip your head around to look at him in disbelief, wondering how he could have possibly known you were resisting the impulse to do exactly that. However, before you could quiz him, he announced the long overdue arrival.

You observe as he pulls up to large gates that promptly begin opening as soon as the car approached. Your wide eyes glanced out of the window in astonishment as he drove through and continued down a stretch of driveway until a stately property came into view. He stopped his car right outside it.

"Don't leave the car, darling; allow me to open your door."

As if you were not already shocked at the impressive building that he called home, now the use of the word "darling" surprised you.

In a flash, your car door opened, and like a gentleman, he extends a helping hand. You hesitantly take it, and as you come to your feet, your bodies collide. His breath falters sharply the moment he feels your breasts brush against his chest.

You look at each other, feeling the heat of mutual desire, and for a moment, it seems as if you are staring into the familiar, comforting eyes of an old friend—or lover?  You found it strange, and feeling rather sheepish, you step aside, breaking the rather intimate exchange between apparent strangers.

Moving towards his house, your nostrils suddenly fill with a scent you love, and immediately you run over to the front door that was adorned with trailing star Jasmine. You press your nose into the flower and inhale deeply, moaning in delight on release of breath.

"You always did love Jasmine." A whisper from behind you was heard, it was barely audible, but you heard it all the same.

"What did you say?" You spin around to peer at him.

He made a few jittery steps in the direction of the entrance. "Oh, nothing; let's go inside, shall we?"

Offering him a small smile, you nod, and he proceeded to approach you, resuming his hand on the small of your back. After opening the door, his palm exerts pressure, eagerly guiding you over the threshold. But as soon as you both entered, he closed the door quickly, making an effort to be subtle and not draw attention to the fact that he had locked you inside.

You exclaim in astonishment at the scene before you, completely oblivious to the fact that he had secured the door behind him.

"Wow, this is beautiful." You scan the elaborate hallway intently. "You have good taste; I'd have decorated it exactly like this."

He chuckled, and you didn't quite catch on to why your response had made him laugh, but you continued to admire the details of his house anyhow.

After a brief moment of watching you be enthralled by his decor, he said something that grabbed your attention.

"I had a hand in choosing the antiquities, but my wife was the genius behind it all." His gaze fixed on you as though waiting to see your reaction.

"You are married!" You exclaimed louder than anticipated, jerking your head away from the decor, and now at his direction.

You looked at him and immediately felt a strange sensation spread through your entire body; it was bizarre and peculiar, and you couldn't quite grasp what it was exactly, but you didn't like it, not one bit.

"Yes, I'm happily married." He grinned, clearly recognising the emotion conveyed in your look, well before you did.

It was his remark that helped you realise precisely what you felt—jealousy. Your heart was filled with a searing level of it. You were green with envy towards the lady he referred to as his wife.

You sigh, experiencing conflicting emotions; but, after you quickly regain your composure—hating the fragile sentiment you just experienced, you perk up and become really glad for him.

"I'm not married." You admit. "I never have been, and I have no family either." You decide to answer the sensitive questions he attempted to extract from you earlier while aimlessly strolling the corridor, peeking in every available door. "Lots of modern ladies these days proclaim that husbands and children are overrated anyway—perhaps family life is simply not for me." Your eyes fixate on a gorgeous vase.

You expected a response from his side, but following a brief period of silence, you curiously turn around and see him standing still, starring at you with a hint of irritation and bitterness in his gaze.

"Did I say something—"

"Maybe those modern spinsters say those words just to make themselves feel better about being alone." He snarled angrily. "You have always believed that marriage is sacred." He took a deep breath and smoothed down his suit jacket to calm his scornful tone. "Matrimony is certainly for you, darling."

The abrupt disdain in his tone caused your mouth to drop open, and before you could process what he had just said, he was at your side, grabbing your hand, and pulling you down the long hallway.

"You love to read; you love books, so I know you'll enjoy this room."

His tight grip released you when he pushed you through a large door, and immediately you were greeted by a stunning library. The vast collection of hardbacks that covered the entirety of the walls on custom-designed bookshelves was truly breathtaking. But when your eyes spied a dark oak desk that had obviously been custom crafted, you let out a gasp and instantly ran towards it.

You run your hand lightly along the wood, observing its smooth, glossy surface, until you feel the unmistakable sensation of carvings. Upon closer inspection, you see the names Loki and Ember etched into the wood in elegant script, not intricate patterns as first assumed. You thought it was a little odd that he'd inscribe a beautiful desk with the names of his fictional characters.

"Mesmerising." You whisper.

"She is."

You turn to look at him and see that he's staring at you.

"Do you often refer to your library as a she?" You were well aware that he was referring to you.

"She is the descriptor used for all of life's greatest pleasures, as there is no higher authority."

"You mean females?" You query. "So are you saying women are on par with men?"

"Of course not."

"Ahh." You respond, believing his retort reflected his true feelings. No man you've met regards women as equals.

He frowned at seeing your unamused look. "You misunderstood me. Females are not equal with males; they are the superior breed and far exceed us. Male abilities pale in comparison."

You furrow your brow in skepticism at first, but you soon get the impression that he was being entirely genuine.

"Your wife has tamed you well; I actually believe what you say." You walk about the room, skimming objects with your fingertips as his penetrating eyes track your every move.

"My wife did indeed change me; her courage to love me made me a better person. She is my all, and the strongest person I know."

"Then I should like to meet her." You state, turning back to look at him. However, again, you notice his intense gaze of adoration, as though he's boring into your soul. "Perhaps she hasn't got you tamed after all." You add. "The way you stare at me is almost lustful. You should stop that—I do not mingle with married men."

His enthralled look shifted to one of anger, and his contemptuous demeanour returned, catching you off guard. "I should hope you mingle with no men!" He snapped, his chest heaving as he breathed quickly.

You felt his anger, and feeling the hostility in the room grow, you hastily attempt to make your exit.

"Well, that's my cue to leave. Nice meeting you author."

As you confidently make your way towards the door, you catch a glimpse of him. His stunned expression followed you right up until you swung it open. It was then that you felt a strong grip prevent you from leaving.

You look down and see his hand tightly coiled around your arm. You immediately darted your head up to meet his gaze and spoke with assertiveness.

"Let me go."

"I can't."

"Do not make me ask a second time, for I will not ask kindly."

"I will never lose you again."

You breathed a sigh of annoyance as you lifted your free hand and placed your fingertip against his temple. "This won't hurt, but the hard fall to the ground might."

A white glow appeared as a result of your touch, and as you smirked arrogantly, you waited for him to slip into an unconscious state and fall to a heap on the floor. But after a short while of nothing happening, your eyes narrow in on him in confusion. He saw your dumbfounded expression, and grinned smugly.

"You appear to have forgotten not only your memory, darling, but also the fact that you can't control me." He snickered. "I was hoping you'd try it, just so I could see your puzzled expression—I do love surprising you."

Your wide eyes stared at him in shock. "What—who—how do you know I can contort minds?"

"Who do you think taught you, sweetheart?"

Mournful, you confess. "I - I don't know... I have no recollection of my past."

He quickly grabbed your waist and pressed you against his body. "Fortunately for me, I have a vault full of memories carefully stored within my mind. Most, if not all of them include you, my beloved wife."

You wriggle away from his hold and stagger towards the open door. "I think you have your wires crossed somewhere. I am not your wife, and, well, it's not unheard of for some individuals to be naturally resistant to such.." You pause, hesitating to say the next word.

"To such—magic?"  He replied with a broad grin.

Your anxiety over being exposed as a bearer of magic compelled you to retreat backwards until you found yourself stepping out of the doorway. When you realise you're back in the hallway, you make a break for it, sprinting towards the front door, which you finally notice is bolted shut.

Loki observed you run, but after eighty-five years of searching, he had finally located you, and he had no intention of letting you get away.

"Leave me alone!" You yell, sensing him close behind you.

"Calm down, darling, this should be a joyous occasion; we have been reunited." He proclaimed, hot on your trail.

"You are a raving madman. I am not your wife, you imbecile."

"I see you still have that fiery spark; it's what made me fall in love with you many, many years ago."

You feel his hand seize your waist just before you reach the front door, and you're quickly flung back against the wall. He leaned in close to savour the aroma of your hair, then drew back and peered into your eyes.

"Oh, how I've missed you, my queen." As his breath blew across your face, you inhaled deeply, taking in the intoxicating scent of him.

"You're making a mistake. I am not who you think I am. I can't be. It is just my charm; I have this spellbinding effect on men; you are not the first to try and force me to bed."

His hold on your waist tightened as a fiery rage erupted on his cheeks, and he released a low growl. "Whoever has tried to defile you while we were apart, I promise to present you with their heads on spikes as a reunion gift." He snarled.

The gift of presenting heads was reminiscent of dark, almost mediaeval times. It aired gothic romance, and you couldn't deny that the promise he made, however sick it sounded, sent a jolt of pleasure through you. However, you couldn't possibly admit that his sentiments caused you a twinge of delight.

"I need no man to fight my battles. I already punished them severely. And you'll be next if you keep caging me within your arms!"

"Oh, I welcome the battle kitten." A smirk swept across his face.

The word "kitten" rang in your ear, and the very act of hearing it resurrected a memory.

"What did you just call me?"

He looked at you more intently, analysing the bewildered expression on your face. "Did you just have a memory, my love?" His tone was hopeful, "You always did love when I would call you kitten."

As you looked upon his adoring gaze, your entire being shook with emotion. The sight of him felt even more familiar as a veil began to lift, revealing all the lost mysteries surrounding your forgotten past. And now, as more and more memories surfaced, they flooded your already overwhelmed mind, provoking conflicting thoughts of denial.

Your nerves get the best of you, and you twist out of his arms and sprint for the door on the left; avoiding the heavily secured front entrance due to its numerous locks.

You quickly bolted the door to the room you just entered and backed away slowly, keeping a cautious eye on the door as it shook from the weight of his frantic pounding on the other side.

"Sweetheart, if you have any recollection at all, stop suppressing your emotions. I promise to be patient as you get to know me again, never rushing you—I simply want to love you; want us back together, because sweetheart, we belong with one another."

"You are severely mentally unstable, enough with this nonsense and let me leave at once!" You made sure he heard your loud yells.

His responses against the closed door now took on an angry tone: "I'm never letting you go, Ember! You are mine!"

You stand unmoving as silence settles over the room, the only sound was his forehead hitting the wooden door in dejection. It not only broke the quiet but also your heart. "Please just love me; I'm so lonely without you; I can't bear another moment alone."

You detect a tremor in his voice as though he's fighting back tears; it only tugs on your heart more.

A quiet, "I'm lonely too," escaped your lips, and you lower your head.

Suddenly, the door's locks illuminated emerald green, and with a loud click, they unlocked, allowing the door to slowly swing open. In a state of shock, you resume your frozen position in the middle of the room.

He inched closer and spoke to your softly. "You don't need to ever feel alone, kitten—we don't need to be lonely anymore."

"I- I.."

He knew that you were finding it hard to comprehend it all, and to verbalise your feelings. "You don't need to talk, darling; just listen first, okay?"

You nodded, and he continued to speak while keeping a safe distance to make you feel at ease.

"You, Ember, are my wife."

As soon as he made the startling statement as if it were a matter of fact, an intense current shot through your body.

"From the moment I laid eyes on you, sobbing on the balcony of your own engagement party, I knew we were soul mates." He looked at you tenderly. "Your betrothal to another was the first obstacle we had to overcome; but we did it, together. Our love bloomed, even after our declarations of love for one another was rejected by our elders. But as an act of defiance to our injustice, we married in secret—our forbidden love remaining hidden for many years, right up until you became queen. And then, to send a resounding message to those who had attempted to control us, you crowned me your king, revealing to the world what we had accomplished and that it could not be undone."

You were awed by his words, and his tale sounded so very familiar.

"You have just described the plot to your story— my cherished book, their beginning." You exclaim incredulously.

"My written words were not merely make believe stories, they were my memories; a retelling of our life. The characters from my books—Loki and Ember—they are us."

His eyes drifted upwards and fixated on something behind you. "You were so beautiful in that dress, you wore it often because you knew I loved you in it."

Swinging around abruptly, you settled your gaze on the sizable oil painting that hung above the fireplace. You gasped when you realised it was you, and then smiled when you recognised the emerald dress. More memories were gradually appearing in your mind.

Loki resumed talking as you continued to stare up at the painting, your back to him.

"After living as king and queen for many happy years; our union finally being accepted. The unthinkable happened; my worst fear... I lost you."

You tensed up as the warmth of his sad sigh swept against the back of your neck. He had quietly approached you while you were distracted, and now his body was lightly pressing against your back.

You felt his hot whisper as he spoke into your ear. "Nearly a century ago, during the Great War between the realms, we had become separated, and since that day, I have never stopped searching for you. Even when all others deemed you perished, I knew in my heart that you were alive."

With a gentle touch, his hands slithered around your waist and he drew you closer to him. But as your tense body surrendered to his comforting embrace, the walls you built to protect yourself over the years were slowly crumbling. Yet you still didn't know whether to feel alarmed or exhilarated by his touch.

"I had almost given up hope after exhausting every possible avenue in my search for you, dismissing any inkling I had that you were still among the living. But then I remembered the three seers—the witches of andval. I sought them out and offered whatever they wanted for the knowledge of their sight. They informed me that you were in Midgard, and that I should begin writing because one day your passion for literature would eventually lead you back to me."

His arms squeezed around you for an even tighter hug, his voice brightening. "And it did, you read my books and came to me."

You spin around in his arms and look at him. "All this time I had no memory of my past, yet they were right in front of me. My entire life was laid out before me in the pages of my favourite books!" You exclaim, astounded.

He took hold of your tearful face with both hands and stared deeply into your features. "True love's journey was never one without thorns. And whilst this thorn is the hardest one to overcome, I believe we can, darling."

His eyes follow the tear that begins to roll down your cheek, and with tenderness he gently thumbs away the wet droplet.

"You are yet to finish the end of the series." You sniffle back a sob.

"The end is up to you, my love. Do I write that I found you and you reciprocated the love that I so desperately yearn. Or will the pages of my heart be torn out?"

You paused, taking your time to ponder your answer, and he sighs, taking your prolonged silence as rejection. His hands slump to his sides, releasing his hold on your face.

"Loki.." You whisper.

His wet and imploring eyes look into yours as soon as he hears you. It had been such a long time since he had heard the melody of his name in your sweet voice that the very mention of it caused an emotional tug on his heart.

You tenderly place your hands on either side of his face, and twirl a stray strand of hair behind his ear.

"We may have started as star-crossed lovers—a romance riddled with conflict. But unlike bittersweet novels, our love is not doomed to fail." You smile, gazing intently into his eyes. "I believe you know me very well, and so you'll know that I despise tragic romance. Thus, my king, our love story will never end in tragedy."

As he realised you had picked the happy ending, he found it impossible to hold back the tears that threatened to fall. And now the urge to kiss him was strong. But before you planted your lips on his, you needed to hear them—the words that made your heart giggle with affection for him. The words that healed your heart of hopelessness when you first met on the balcony, years ago.

"Will you say it, Loki? Please."

He smiled, knowing exactly what you asked for, and was more than happy to oblige.

Taking two steps back, he beamed a wide grin and extended his arms to the side of him. As his body became highlighted in a shimmering green glow, his appearance changed, morphing his earthly clothes into garments more fit for a god. His regal green and gold leathers tightly enveloped his body, while his raven hair dropped in waves and sat atop his shoulders. With his striking transformation complete, he oozed royalty.

Excitement built up inside you, the anticipation to hear him too much to bare. He saw your body almost trembling from excitement and he let out a hearty chuckle.

"Say it, Loki!" You jump on the spot, your smile beaming. And not letting you wait a moment longer, he proudly boomed.

"I am Loki, Prince of Asgard, and I am burdened with glorious purpose."

He felt a surge of emotion at the sight of your joy, but before he could strut over and scoop you up in his arms, you had already rushed forward and taken hold of him, crashing your lips to his in a rough but sensual display of long overdue affection.

Renewed passion stoked the fires of desire as your tongues entwined, easing the aches of separation. And as though you were a dream he might wake up from, his hands frantically explored your body.

He pulled back and stared into your eyes. You could see rivers of tears streaming down his cheeks as he sobbed. "My queen, you have no idea the pain I've felt since losing you."

"You mean the crushing emptiness." You whisper, recounting your own agony. His eyes widen. "I may not have remembered you, Loki, but that doesn't mean I didn't feel the cold grasp of loneliness grip my heart. The numbing pain as I wondered aimlessly with no memory of who I was. I felt everything you felt, my king—please, never lose me again, I beg you."

His hold on you tightened.

"You are the blazing Ember that kindles the fire in my heart, the eternal flame that warms my soul, the spark that ignites my desires, and you are my wife.....my Ember.... Forever, you are mine."

His poetic vow, his sentimental promise—it was heartfelt and sincere, and you felt every word.

His hands reach down and pick you up with another clash of lips, and your legs instinctively encircled his waist. He carried you up the stairs without breaking the kiss, kicking open the bedroom door in eager anticipation.

You take a moment away from his kisses to look around the room, smiling when you remember the happy memories of you and Loki meticulously decorating the space to reflect your personalities. You giggle as you recall all the hilariously disagreeable feuds that ensued whenever he magically altered the shades of the walls to better suit his personal tastes.

That infectious laugh of yours, which he had missed so much, captivated Loki, and he couldn't stop gushing over you until his curiosity reached its peak. He leaned his forehead towards yours to get a glimpse at what had you in fits of laughter, and as soon as your two heads touched, you let him into your thoughts. Now, the pair of you watched as the memory unfolded once more in your minds.

The memories moved on to the inevitable make-up sex that followed every heated argument. And as you relived the intense moment in time, you both breathed heavily, the air becoming increasingly dense with deep desire as you yearned for each other's bodies.

You both look lovingly at each other as Loki carries you over to the bed and gently lowers you down. He leans over you, his hair falling freely, and whispers, "I've pined for you, Ember, every second of the day."

Once more, you could hear the heart wrenching hurt in his voice, and it pained you to imagine the anguish he endured on his solitary journey to find you.

"No longer am I a ghost plaguing your thoughts, my love, I am here now."

The pressure of his body against yours evoked a steady tingle of arousal, but watching him prepare for a kiss by wetting his lips with a quick swirl of his tongue, set off an explosion of insatiable hunger.

You quickly pulled his lips to yours and consumed his mouth, enjoying the familiar taste that settled on your tongue. But he soon pried his lips free from your forceful neediness. "I want to see you, darling— all of you." He declared.

"Then either rip off my clothes or work your magic, Trickster."

Hearing more of your usual names for him caused a stir lower down in his body, and not just in his heart.

"It has been far too long since I last caught sight of your body, my queen. And I've played the role of a simple mortal long enough."

With a gentle glow that radiated around both of you, every piece of clothing magically faded from your bodies, revealing two bare lovers entwined in a passionate embrace.

After a long pause of hovering over you and admiring the view of your body, his mouth began attentively trailing downwards, taking his time to pepper delicate kisses along your exposed skin.

Like a sponge, his wide and alert eyes soak up all the details of your body, creating fresh, current memories, and filing them away so he never forgets.

He moves in between your parted legs and with mischievous intent leaves his lips to linger on your inner thigh. You tense in anticipation, knowing exactly what comes next.

"Don't do it Loki!" You yell.

He chuckles against your thigh. "Oh, but I must, kitten."

You begin to wriggle against the sheets when he starts nipping at your soft skin. Squeaks and squeals escaping you as he purposely moves his tongue all along your ticklish spots.

He chuckles, and you feel his warm breath against your skin, further heightening your intense tickling fits. He's missed making you squirm, and so he strives to get you to the point where you try to clamp your legs shut around his head, a physical expression of your inability to take it any longer.

After reaching his goal of making you a breathless mess, he grins triumphantly. And now you let out soft whimpers as his playful antics subside and he becomes more sensual. Slowly, he moves his mouth to your highly aroused area, and with the tip of his extended tongue, he licks a strip along your already slick crease.

Unsurprising to you, despite his long period of abstinence, neither his memory nor his abilities had deteriorated. He Skilfully inserted his tongue into your folds until you parted, and located your aroused clit. Soon, his pleasures left your nub so engorged and sensitive that his touch caused continuous and jolting sensations all over your body.

In spite of his impressive magical powers, he could entice you without resorting to any tricks. He was so proficient in the arts of pleasure-giving that he didn't require any assistance to reduce you to a whimpering wreck. He was a master of his craft, and his eager desire to please you only amped up his profound abilities.

You arch your back and grab fistfuls of the bedsheet as you experience the sensation of his tongue going deeper inside of you. His shocking technique bringing on your impending release.

"Come for me, my queen, let me taste you."

His voice, which had an authoritative command to it, triggered signals all over your body, causing you to immediately feel coursing shockwaves of pleasure as you reached your climax. You screamed, yelling out his name as he pressed his face firmly into you, lapping up every single drop of your orgasmic essence.

"Good girl." He chuckled, sitting up on his knees, his mouth glistening with the remnants of you.

"I almost forgot how amazing an orgasm feels like." You admit, staring up at the luxurious swags of the four-poster bed.

You feel him crawl up your body and hover over you, his eyes savouring the sweet look on your post-orgasmic face.

"I assume by your remark that you've not been with anyone else while we were parted?" He asks subtly, acting as though he wouldn't care if you said you had.

You were aware, however, that he harboured a jealous streak so deep that when he claimed, "You are mine," he meant it with all the conviction in the world. You were his, his possession, and you relished it because you, too, possessed a fiercely jealous side.

"Have you?" You curiously ask.

"I asked first, kitten."

You let out a small laugh and quickly eased his mind. "There has been no one other than you who has penetrated my heart or my..." You smirked up at him, and he smiled back, understanding you have been chaste all this time.

"I think you know my answer my queen, and that is the fact that my loins yearn for no other."

You catch him off guard by flipping him over, just as he leans in for a kiss. Your legs straddle on either side of him as you pin his arms down above his head. He stares up at you in surprise, captivated and aroused by your sudden dominance.

"That is good to know, my king, for I was about to sharpen the spikes of my spears in preparation of mounting heads." You say with amusement in your tone.

He wasn't entirely sure if you were poking fun of him or not, given how he'd said similar words to you earlier. But either way, it brought a smile to his face, and now his attention on you is unwavering as he looks at you with devotion.

"Look at you, looking so beautiful as you use my body as a personal throne."

You've heard his sweet sentiments hundreds of times and performed this riding position equally as much, but still, he made you blush a crimson red.

The sight of your face flushing caused him to grin even wider. "I adore that I can still arouse reactions from your body by mere words, I will never grow tired of seeing your cheeks glow for me."

His smitten eyes followed the natural line of your neck to your supple breasts, where they lingered on the breathtaking sight. As you reach to grasp his shaft in your palm, his hands slide up your upper body and grabs hold of your mounds, caressing them firmly.

You place him at your entrance and peer down at him, curious to see his reaction as you slowly descend. His head pushes against the mattress as you sink lower onto his thickness, and he lets out a gasp as his body surges with the familiar pleasures of you sucking him in.

"Take me all in, kitten, please. Let me fill you to capacity."

You comply with his pleading and slide further down, but cover your mouth with your hand to stifle the loud, involuntary moans that come out of you. Instantly he growls in disapproval and snatches your hand away, releasing your blaring screams.

"Since we have been apart for some time, darling, I can overlook that slip-up. However, if you deny me the pleasure of hearing your moans again, punishments will be in order." He warns.

Smirking, you continue your descent, your mouth gaping open as you feel yourself stretch wide to accommodate his hefty girth. And after taking him in fully, you sensually begin rocking your hips, and hear Loki groaning in response to feeling your warmth stroke him.

He seizes your hips and assumes control, speeding up your back and forth motions until your riding him at a furious pace. He squeezes your nipples between his fingers, and the familiar sensations of gratification returned, signalling the impending rush of yet another orgasmic experience. As the symphony of your groans collides, the intensity of your love session has you both drenched in sweat.

"I'm going to come, darling, I -I—"

Loki's fingers dug into your flesh as he tightly gripped your waist and held you in place. You could feel his hardness throb, spilling his warm seed into you and filling you to the brim. A resounding growl arose from his chest and escaped his mouth, making you clench down and achieve your own bliss.

You immediately collapsed downward, your sweat-soaked bodies clinging to each other as you descended from the rapture.

"That was worth the wait, sweetheart."

Resting your wary head against his chest, you manage a breathless. "I agree."

Still feeling the hazy elation and the lasting effects of your intense orgasm long after it had ended. You both lay there, in the quiet stillness, revelling in the serenity of the moment, while Loki swirled patterns on your back.

"Are you ready to continue with the next chapter of our life, my queen?"

You prop your head up and rest your chin on his chest, grinning at him with a gleam in your eye.

"I am, and I predict that some new characters will be introduced in the next book." Your smile took a whimsical turn, and it piqued his interest.

"Is that so, darling—tell me more."

"Well, the adventures of Loki and Ember will continue, but with an additional member... "I think a child is in order—don't you think?"

The sudden acceleration of his heart rate caused Loki to stutter out a breath. "I want that with all my heart, Ember!" He pleaded with happiness.

Looking into his tearful eyes, you could feel the depth of his excitement at the prospect of becoming a father, and it filled your heart with joy.

"What are we waiting for? I'm ready when you are, my king."

And with that, Loki spun you onto your back and grinned. "Then let's start making babies, kitten."