#phaesal&loki

@beautiful-mischief sent ❝  you know, it’s funny; i keep thinking I've seen you before.  ❞ from these Song of Achilles prompts

"Seen me before?" Phaesal's smile is warm but reserved, cordial, polite. He's heard every line there is to hear, he's sure, and this is no doubt another of those times. "I must have a familiar face."

He's sat beside this man at the bar, boughten him a drink as he settles himself for a moment with a club soda. Something about the man, in truth, had called for Phaesal to sit beside him a spell and ask how he was, if he was visiting. Part of him even expected some sort of accent, because if this were a familiar face Phaesal was sure he would have been able to conjure it from his memory, but the man in a nice suit is someone he can't place. The shape of his jaw, the set of his brow, it's all something that Phaesal is drawn to and wishes he could figure out why, other than this mysterious club-goer is clearly a very handsome person.

@beautiful-mischief sent ❝  chivalry is overrated, get in my bed.  ❞ from these Staying The Night prompts

"I can't take the bed from you-" Phaesal had tried to discourage Loki from giving up his bed, so flustered that he was spending the night at all with him, then to be kicking the other out from his own place of rest? It hardly seemed right to sweet Phaesal, and he pushed back as much as he could before his handsome cohort had put his foot down and insisted the dancer take it.

With a flustered, appreciative smile the blonde man accepted, finally, but held out his hand to the stolid, carbon-haired man he had come to so adore, fingers opening and closing to show he wished the other come near. Then, when their fingers enfolded, Phaesal drew Loki to the bedside, looking up at him with a glimmer of hope and nervous anticipation.

"A frog!"

It's Phaesal's justification of his thought, envious of the creatures sunning themselves on the side of the water or darting about within, seeming to have their own games for when one would call, another would respond. He wanted that carefreeness, to have no expectations on you except to see the next morning or respond to a simple call.

He collapsed beside Loki, feeling his husband's eyes on him, following him down into the heap on the dark-haired prince's lap where his curls spilled and Phaesal continued to stare fixedly at the creatures enjoying their time. Of course he would miss his handsome beloved, assuming he would opt instead to keep his human form.

@beautiful-mischief​ sent “🤼‍♂️” for my muse to pull theirs away from a physical fight

The general public were respectful of the affairs of the royals, at least to their faces--when Phaesal and Loki would go around town together, there were nods and curtsies, small smiles and averted eyes, or quiet well-wishing's for their health and coming marriage. It was quaint and kind, and always met with thanks and well-wishing the other way as well.  No matter how kind the pair were, however, that didn’t mean that everyone received them so kindly or respectfully.  There was a usually quiet portion that had strong feelings about the royal family and their behaviors, and a romance between two princes was nothing short of a scandal for that group, who would look down their noses at such a thing and had been known to make less than kind remarks towards the coming nuptials. 

Phaesal grew used to these people, their behavior a familiar titter behind gloved hands or referral as the ‘faggot prince’--a moniker as untrue as it was unwelcome, but was let to pass when Phaesal was alone, seeing no use in making tensions worse among a group that cared little for his bloodline. But it was a challenging thing to prepare a partner for, when their forays would usually come accompanied and the tender minority wouldn’t risk their smug projections.  In fact, Phaesal had nearly forgotten this group entirely in the bliss of Loki’s welcoming, so much time spent darting around on foot or horseback and stealing themselves away for laughter and the telling of tall tales. Rarely was it that they found themselves unaccompanied in town but, as it happened to be, one of these days the inevitable occurred. 

“Loki!  No-” 

The offender was a hulking teenager, who stood to the side of the square in the shadow between buildings with, what Phaesal would assume, were his friends.  It was hard to tell though, the way they scattered when Loki had used some form of magics... or had tried to, at least.  All Phaesal saw was the moving of lips in an angered flurry and the teen stalking over and shoving Loki back, interrupting whatever Loki had been saying by drawing back a great fist. 

He’d tried to shove his way over to them, but in the tight-knit square made only closer still by the attention drawn by the two men fighting.  Not to mention, one was a prince, and about to marry into the line for the throne.  Phaesal had tried shouting over the crowds as he elbowed his way through, hollering for someone to grab both men, but no one seemed interested, or could hear.  It was he who finally laid hands on Loki and tore him back, nearly getting caught straight in the nose by a rogue fist. 

It was awfully hard to look noble when you were breaking up a fight between a ruffian and your husband-to-be. 

Phaesal could never pull one over on Loki, even when he was trying, so it surprised him little when his entrance was noted with the grogginess of a morning voice from the near-dark. It even brought a smile to the young man's lips, feeling his shoulders loosen and droop slightly at the sound--this would be what he woke up to for the rest of his life, with no more cumbersome room changes between servants bidding them goodnight and morning calls to draw back curtains. The next sun would rise on the two of them huddled beneath the same coverings and tangled in one another's embrace.

This morning, though, he could savor one last bit of running around behind proper backs.

Coming to his betrothed's bedside he found himself drawn beneath the warm pile of the comforter, stifling a laugh as his cold limbs felt they were burning with the sudden change and being wrapped up too in his beloved's body; the willowy, strong body that he had tried in earnest to learn over the months now enveloping and joining his own in a comfortable embrace.

Phaesal, leaning in, nudged their noses to each other affectionately before settling back a hairs breadth away once more with a grin, eyes meeting hallowed green with glee. "Very forbidden indeed," he said quietly in mock seriousness. "And carries bad luck, which is why no one should know I've broken the rules this morning. I'll sneak back before anyone knows where I've gone, or where I've been." Leaning his forehead to Loki's, he breathed deeply through his nose and quieted for a moment, testing what sleep would be like beside the man he loved. Peaceful. Happy. His smile returned as their fingers intertwined.

@beautiful-mischief sent “traditional kiss” for a mistletoe smooch

"Why hello handsome. I didn't think I'd see you tonight." Christmas Eve spent where else? but at work, and Phaesal was far from enthused. He wanted to be home, or on a cute date with his boyfriend... if he could be so bold to call his frequent flier that now that they were seeing each other outside of Phaesal's workplace and had now and again woken up in one another's beds. At some point it became more than a passing fling, didn't it? Especially with a connection like theirs. So it was a relief to see the familiar dark curls and handsome face when Phaesal approached with the ordered drink that had been pushed into his hand by the girl whose table it had technically been. He'd remember to thank her later. "I expected you'd have some plans with some devilishly handsome person, maybe go for a sleigh ride... caroling..." Of course, he was kidding.

He slid into the booth beside Loki, underdressed for the white christmas they were having outside wearing mostly red leather harnessing bespeckled in little golden bells that rang as he got his money, and placed a hand easily on the other man's thigh with a kiss to his cheek. "I've just wanted to be somewhere warm with you," he admitted. "Cocoa and Hallmark movies even sound perfect." Start a tradition, he wanted to say, but kept that to himself with a flush. "Oh oh! Look at these though!" Tucked under one of the bands of the harnessing around his thighs were a pair of ridiculous red felted antlers that Phaesal, beaming now, situated on his head. They'd been stuck away for one reason, and one reason alone--the mistletoe strung between the antlers was more of an invitation to strangers than he was willing to make with someone he wanted to be spending his holidays with, sitting home without him.

"Well worth the lumps."

How could Phaesal feel any differently? Loki was a beautiful person, someone who he looked forward to spending any time at all with. But to spar against him, see that look of concentration in his eyes as he wielded a blade against his betrothed? It was breathtaking, and more than once Phaesal had nearly lost all concentration watching the other's brow furrow and sweat bead and roll down those handsome cheeks.

Now, though, victory was all the sweeter.

It didn't matter anymore whether someone was watching them, as it did before. Their engagement was prolonged, and who could blame them for being so wrapped up in one another? Perhaps if their match had been any less of a miracle then they might not be so enthralled, but alas, it was always with eyes full of wonder and adoration that he looked at Loki. Then again if someone so happened to oversee their displays of affection while sparring... well, then that would be their issue to sit with. Rules be damned, Phaesal couldn't keep himself from leaning down and stealing another kiss, and a third for good measure, left hand finding Loki's in the dirt.

@beautiful-mischief sent " “ it’s dark outside, and it’s raining. my arms are much safer. “ " from here

Phaesal, easy to persuade when it came to both Loki and being close, returned from the barn doors and settled back into his husband's arms. They were on the run, more or less, evading search parties while exploring the vast world they'd never been a part of. Sometimes that included sleeping in unconventional places, and when a storm had hit from out of a blue sky, they'd been driven into an abandoned lean-to of a barn, the house long fallen beside it, though thankfully it had doors to close against the worst of the weather. There they'd holed up for hours, huddled together as the wind shook the very bones of the little barn, but left it upright. It had been hours since they'd stepped inside, and somehow Phaesal had hoped that the storm might have passed, at least the worst of it, and that they might continue along the road with the dying light of day as their guide to the next civilization.

Alas, Loki was right. It had gotten dark, and the rain still came in heavy sheets, beating against his golden face even just peering out from a crack in the door. His husband's arms were safer than the alternative, and far warmer.

"We'll have to stay here for the night," he concluded pointlessly, laying his head to his husband's shoulder and nuzzling into the familiar column of his neck. "Because you're right- it's much safer here." With a smile, the nuzzling became a soft barrage of kisses. He lay quietly for a bit, eyes closed, listening to the sounds of rain and Loki's existence, firm and soothing in the unknown. Finally he opened his eyes again.