Chapter 35

The abandoned factory loomed before them, its windows broken and its walls crumbling. Harry moved quickly through the debris-strewn entrance, Sylvia and Thor flanking him on either side. The pulse they’d felt earlier had led them here. It was like a disturbance in reality that they all had felt, like something ancient had awaken from a deep slumber.

“Darcy’s message said it was urgent,” Harry muttered, stepping over a fallen beam. His hand instinctively reached for Sylvia’s, feeling her own concern through their bond.

Darcy had sent him the message mere seconds after they’d felt the pulse, telling them that something bad had happened to Jane.

They found her in what used to be the main warehouse floor, kneeling beside Jane’s unconscious form. The moment she saw them, she heaved a sigh of relief.

“Thank god you’re here.” Darcy pushed her dark hair out of her face, and Harry noticed her hands were shaking. “One second we were investigating these weird readings, the next Jane touches something and just collapses. I tried everything I could think of but nothing worked.”

Harry was beside her in three strides, pulling Darcy into a quick embrace. She clutched him hard, as if trying to fuse their bodies, and Harry rubbed her back reassuringly as he turned to look at Jane’s unconscious form.

“You did the right thing calling me,” he said softly, watching Thor kneel on Jane’s other side, his face etched with worry as he took in her pale features and shallow breathing.

“What happened to her?” He asked, his brows furrowed.

“She found something,” Darcy explained, gesturing to a nearby pillar where some sort of red energy seemed to shimmer and distort. It gave off an otherworldly feeling that set them on edge. “Some kind of portal or anomaly. The equipment went haywire right before she touched it and then this red stuff just poured into her.”

Sylvia moved closer to the distortion, her eyes narrowing. “This is no ordinary force. It feels old. Ancient.”

Harry gently extracted himself from Darcy’s embrace and knelt beside Jane, placing his hand on her collarbone, his eyes closed. He pushed his senses outward, trying to discern the nature of the power roiling beneath her skin. The energy was aggressive, possessive, like it was claiming her as its host. Dark red tendrils flickered beneath her flesh, visible for brief moments before disappearing again. It was a parasite.

“Everyone step back,” Harry said quietly, and the seriousness in his tone made even Thor comply without any question or hesitation.

He gently trailed his hand lower, reaching Jane’s sternum, and reached out further with his power to identify what had infected her. He could not pinpoint it perfectly, but he knew letting it remain inside her was disastrous.

The moment he tried to extract it, the foreign energy reacted violently. Red light burst from Jane’s body, forcing Harry to jerk back as the parasite fought his attempt to remove it.

“What happened?” Thor demanded.

“Well, this thing seems to have grown rather fond of her already,” Harry muttered dryly, eyeing Jane with concern.

“Can you help her?”

Before Harry could answer, a circle of golden sparks materialized beside them. He knew who it was before he even saw her.

The portal expanded, and through it stepped the Ancient One, her expression serene as usual.

“Bloody hell!” Darcy yelped, scrambling backward. “Where did you come from?”

Sylvia’s hand went to where her weapon would normally be, her entire body tensing. Meanwhile, Thor moved to stand protectively near Jane, clearly uncertain about this new arrival.

“It’s alright,” Harry said, standing to greet the Sorcerer Supreme. “This is the Ancient One. She’s an ally.”

The Ancient One greeted him with a slight incline of her head. Her eyes swept over the others, lingering on Sylvia for a moment longer than necessary, before settling back on him. “It seems you have sorted out the earlier issue with another Infinity Stone.”

Harry nodded. “I guess it’s a stone that’s causing this to Jane?”

“You’ve discovered why absolute power requires absolute understanding,” the Ancient One replied.

Harry frowned. “I can sense the source but I can’t control it? That’s what you mean?”

“You possess dominion over the stones,” she replied calmly. “But dominion is not dominance. The Infinity Stones are not tools to be wielded lightly. They are cosmic forces unto themselves, each with their own nature and will. Your connection to them through the Hallows grants you influence, but influence without understanding is merely potential.”

“So I can affect them but not fully command them yet,” Harry said, understanding dawning on him. “Like speaking a language but not yet thinking in it.”

The Ancient One’s lips curved in a small smile. “Precisely. The stone inside this woman is the Aether, also known as the Reality Stone. It is perhaps the most aggressive of the six, actively seeking hosts to bond with. Your power over it exists, but you must learn to speak its language.”

“Can you help her?” Thor asked, his patience clearly wearing thin.

The Ancient One turned her gaze to him, and something in her expression made the God of Thunder take a step back. “I am not here to help. I am here to ensure Harry Potter understands the path before him.” She looked back at Harry. “Be careful. This is no coincidence. You and Earth are attracting cosmic attention. The stones recognize their master, even if that master has not yet fully awakened to their purpose.”

With that cryptic warning, she stepped back through her portal and vanished as quickly as she’d arrived.

“Well, that was creepy,” Darcy muttered.

Harry chuckled, moving back to Jane’s side. The Ancient One’s words had given him what he needed. He couldn’t extract the Aether yet, but he could use his connection to the Death Stone to contain it, to limit its influence. The Death Stone was about mastery over death and life, and right now the Aether was killing Jane from the inside out.

He placed his hand over her chest again, this time reaching for the power of the Hallows. The familiar weight of the Death Stone settled in his mind, even though he didn’t physically hold it. Through his bond with it, he could channel its essence.

The Deathly Hallows tattoo on his forearm began to glow with soft golden light.

“What are you doing?” Sylvia asked quietly, sensing the shift in his magic through their bond.

“Containing it,” Harry replied through gritted teeth. The Aether resisted immediately, red energy crackling against his golden power. It felt like trying to contain a wildfire with his bare hands. “The Aether wants to consume her. I’m using my power to protect her, to stop its advancement. Think of it as a barrier created especially for the Aether. To contain it.”

“You can do that?” Thor asked, gobsmacked, but Harry didn’t respond.

Sweat beaded on his forehead as the battle of wills intensified. The Aether was old, older than most things in the universe, and it didn’t appreciate being restrained. But Harry had something it didn’t expect. He wasn’t just using magic or willpower. He was using fundamental cosmic authority, the same authority that had allowed him to master death itself.

Golden light spread from his hand, seeping into Jane’s body and weaving through her like threads of pure energy. Wherever it touched, the red tendrils of the Aether retreated, forced back by power it couldn’t overcome. Slowly, color returned to her skin, and eventually, Jane’s eyes fluttered open.

“Thor?” she whispered, her voice weak but conscious.

“I’m here,” Thor said immediately, taking her hand. “You’re going to be alright.”

The Aether wasn’t done though. It surged against Harry’s containment, trying to regain control of its host. Harry clamped down harder, pouring more power into the barriers he’d erected around the Aether. It was like holding a door shut against a hurricane, but he refused to let up.

Finally, after what felt like hours but was likely only minutes, the Aether’s struggles weakened. Not defeated, just temporarily exhausted. Harry allowed himself to relax slightly, though he kept the containment in place.

“Okay,” he said, breathing heavily. “That should hold for now.”

“What did you do?” Jane asked, trying to sit up. Thor helped support her. “I feel different. Like something’s inside me but it’s not suffocating anymore.”

“The Aether,” Harry explained, offering her a hand to help her fully upright. “It’s an ancient power that infected you when you touched that anomaly. I have control over its effects, which helped me contain its influence. I haven’t removed it though. It’s still inside you.”

“Can you get it out?” Thor asked.

Harry shook his head. “Not yet. I need to understand it better first. Trying to extract it forcefully could kill Jane. Right now, the containment is keeping it from taking over completely.”

Sylvia was the one who spoke up, her voice reluctant. “Asgard might be able to help. The technology there doesn’t exist on Earth, and the healing ability or magic doesn’t either. If anywhere can safely remove the Aether, it’s there.”

Harry caught the complicated emotions flowing through their bond. The idea of returning to Asgard clearly troubled her, but she was putting Jane’s welfare above her own discomfort.

Thor straightened immediately. “Then we must go at once. The longer the Aether remains in Jane, the greater the danger.”

“I’m coming too,” Darcy announced, stepping forward.

“Darcy,” Harry started.

“No way am I staying behind while Jane goes to an alien realm with this weird parasite inside her,” Darcy interrupted. “She needs someone who isn’t going to be distracted by family drama or political nonsense.”

Harry gave her a long look. Through his connection to her, he could feel her determination mixed with genuine concern for her friend. But he could also sense the danger that lay ahead. The Aether’s presence would attract attention, not all of it friendly.

“I need you here,” Harry said gently, taking both her hands in his. “Someone has to let the others know what’s happening. Maria, Natasha, all of them need to understand what we’re dealing with.”

“That’s a rubbish excuse and you know it,” Darcy shot back.

“Maybe,” Harry admitted. “But it’s also true. Please, Darcy. For me.”

She glared at him for a long moment before her shoulders slumped. “Fine. But if you don’t come back in one piece, I’m finding a way to bring you back just so I can kill you myself.”

Harry pulled her close, kissing her firmly. “I’ll be back before you know it. Promise.”

“You better be,” she muttered against his lips before stepping back.

They gathered together, Thor supporting Jane while Harry and Sylvia stood close. Darcy stepped back, her arms crossed as she watched them prepare to leave.

“So this is my first Bifrost travel,” Harry said conversationally, trying to lighten the mood. “Should I be worried?”

“Only if you enjoy keeping your lunch inside your stomach,” Sylvia replied with a slight smirk.

“Fantastic. Can’t wait.”

“Heimdall!” Thor called out to the sky. “Open the Bifrost!”

The sky split open with brilliant rainbow light, energy cascading down around them in a pillar of raw cosmic power. Harry had a split second to register the sensation of being pulled apart and reassembled before reality shifted and they were standing in a completely different location.

The Bifrost chamber was everything Harry had imagined and more. Gold and crystal and technology that looked like magic, all centered around a massive sword embedded in a control mechanism. A tall man in golden armor stood before them, his eyes seeming to see everything at once.

“Welcome home, Prince Thor,” Heimdall said, his deep voice resonating through the chamber. His gaze shifted to Sylvia, and something flickered across his normally impassive features. “Princess Sylvia. It has been some time.”

“Heimdall,” Sylvia acknowledged with a curt nod.

Heimdall’s attention settled on Harry, and for a moment those all-seeing eyes seemed to pierce through him. “And you are the one who has attracted such cosmic attention. Interesting.”

“That’s me,” Harry said.

“The Allfather has been alerted to your arrival. He awaits you in the throne room.”

As they made their way out of the Bifrost chamber and into Asgard proper, Harry couldn’t help but stare. The realm was breathtaking. Golden spires rose toward a sky that seemed impossibly blue, and architecture that defied every law of physics Harry knew stretched as far as he could see. In the distance, a massive waterfall fell off the edge of the realm into the void of space.

“Stop gawking,” Sylvia murmured affectionately. “You look like a tourist.”

“I am a tourist,” Harry replied. “A very confused tourist who’s currently containing an Infinity Stone inside his friend while walking through what appears to be fantasy heaven.”

“That’s actually not far off,” Sylvia admitted.

Jane, despite her weakened state, seemed equally awed. “This is incredible. The architecture alone defies everything we know about structural engineering.”

“Welcome to Asgard,” Thor said with obvious pride. “The greatest of the Nine Realms.”

They crossed the Rainbow Bridge, which was exactly as named. A massive bridge of colored crystal that connected the Bifrost chamber to the main city. Guards in golden armor watched them pass, their expressions neutral but their attention clearly focused on Sylvia.

“They’re staring,” Harry observed quietly.

“I’m sure they have much to say about the prodigal daughter returning,” Sylvia replied, her tone carefully neutral though Harry could feel the discomfort through their bond. “Let them talk.”

“If any of them say something you don’t like, just let me know,” Harry said. “I’m perfectly happy to demonstrate why pissing off the Master of Death is a bad idea.”

Despite herself, Sylvia smiled. “My hero.”

The palace was even more impressive up close. They were led through halls lined with tapestries depicting great battles and heroic deeds. Harry noticed that none of the tapestries featured Sylvia, despite her clearly being part of the royal family. The omission was obvious, and he knew it was intentional.

The throne room was vast, its ceiling so high it seemed to stretch into infinity. At the far end, seated on a throne that looked like it was carved from a single piece of gold, was Odin Allfather. He wore elaborate armor and an eye patch, his remaining eye fixed on them.

The throne beside him stood empty.

Harry felt Sylvia’s grief spike through their bond at the sight of that empty throne, and he squeezed her hand gently in support.

“My son,” Odin said, his voice carrying across the hall. “You return with unusual company.”

Thor stepped forward, supporting Jane. “Father, this is Jane Foster. She’s been infected with the Aether, an ancient power that threatens her life. We need Asgard’s help to remove it safely.”

Odin’s eye shifted to Jane, and he stared at her as if she was some sort of military threat. “The Aether. I had hoped never to hear that name again.”

“You know what it is?” Jane asked, her voice steadier than it had been earlier.

“I know what it can do,” Odin replied gravely. “And if it has resurfaced, then dark times are upon us.”

His gaze moved to Harry and Sylvia. “And the mortal who dares to walk beside my wayward daughter?”

“Harry Potter,” Harry said, stepping forward. “And before we go any further, let’s address the elephant in the room. Or should I say, the princess?”

Odin’s gaze settled fully on Sylvia, and the temperature in the room seemed to drop several degrees. Something painful flickered across his features before his expression hardened. “Sylvia. You abandoned your duties and responsibilities. You fled like a coward, leaving behind nothing but destruction and sorrow. You have much to answer for.”

Harry felt anger surge through his bond with Sylvia, but she kept her expression neutral. Before she could respond, Harry spoke up.

“And you have much to answer for as well,” Harry said firmly, his voice calm but carrying an edge of steel. “Whatever you think she owes you, whatever authority you believe you have over her, it ended the moment she left this realm. I’m not here to challenge your rule or disrespect your position, but I will not stand by while you berate the woman I love for having the courage to leave a situation that caused her nothing but pain.”

Odin bristled, rising from his throne. “You dare speak to the Allfather in such a manner? You know nothing of what transpired here, mortal.”

“I know enough,” Harry replied evenly, meeting that single eye without flinching. “I know that Sylvia is mine. She’s chosen me, bonded with me, and I with her. And I know that whatever happened in the past, she’s paid for it a thousand times over in guilt and self-blame. If you can’t see that, then perhaps you’re not as wise as everyone claims.”

Silence filled the throne room. Several guards shifted uncomfortably, clearly unused to anyone speaking to the Allfather like this. Thor looked torn between concern and slight approval.

Odin’s remaining eye studied Harry with an intensity that would have made most men crumble. Harry felt something probing at him, Odin’s power trying to understand what he was facing. The Allfather clearly sensed something about Harry, something important that seemed to warn him, but couldn’t identify exactly what it was.

The Hallows resonated within Harry, invisible to Odin but undeniable in their presence. The Master of Death stood before the king of the gods, and he wasn’t quite sure how to proceed.

Finally, Odin spoke, his voice quieter but no less intense. “You speak of things you do not understand. My wife died because of her foolishness. The Queen of Asgard was taken from me, from Thor, from all of Asgard because of reckless actions and forbidden magic.”

“Father,” Thor said quietly, pain in his voice at the mention of his mother.

Sylvia’s entire body had gone rigid. Harry could feel waves of guilt and anguish rolling through their bond, threatening to overwhelm her.

“That’s enough,” Harry said, his voice sharp. “We’re not here to reignite the past. We’re here because Jane Foster needs help that Sylvia believes Asgard can provide. Are you going to help us, or are we wasting our time?”

Odin stared at him for a long moment before slowly sitting back down. “Bold words from a mortal who stands in my hall.”

“Bold but true,” Harry replied. “And I’m not just any mortal. But that’s also a conversation for later. Right now, Jane needs help.”

Odin studied him for a moment longer before nodding slowly. “Very well. We will address other matters later.” He gestured to a dark-haired warrior-like woman who had been standing at the side of the room, watching the confrontation with growing shock. “Take the mortal woman to the healing chambers. We must examine this Aether more closely.”

“Her name is Jane Foster,” Harry said firmly. “And she deserves to be addressed with respect.”

Odin’s expression tightened. “Very well. Jane Foster will receive the finest care Asgard can provide. Sif, see to it personally.”

Sif inclined her head and moved to help Jane. “Come. The healers will see what can be done.”

As Jane was led away, supported by both Sif and Thor, Odin turned his attention back to Harry and Sylvia. “There is more you should know about the Aether. It is not merely a power or a weapon. It is one of the six Infinity Stones, objects of immense power created at the beginning of the universe.”

“I’m familiar with the Infinity Stones,” Harry said. “The Ancient One has mentioned them.”

Odin’s eye narrowed. “You know the Sorcerer Supreme? Interesting. Then you understand the gravity of the situation. My father, Bor, fought the Dark Elves five thousand years ago when they tried to use the Aether to plunge the universe into darkness. He defeated their leader, Malekith, and his armies. The Aether was buried where it could not be found.”

“But it’s been found now,” Harry said. “Which means Malekith will sense it.”

“If he yet lives,” Odin confirmed. “And if he does, he will come for it. The Dark Elves are a threat unlike any you have faced. They do not negotiate, they do not surrender. They exist only to return the universe to the darkness that existed before creation.”

“Cheerful bunch,” Harry muttered.

“There is also the Convergence to consider,” Odin continued. “The alignment of the Nine Realms creates points where the boundaries between worlds grow thin. It is during a Convergence that the Aether manifested. Malekith will attempt to use the Convergence to amplify the Aether’s power and achieve his goal of universal darkness.”

“How long until this Convergence reaches its peak?” Harry asked.

“Days, perhaps a week at most,” Odin replied. “We must extract the Aether before then, or the consequences will be catastrophic. Not just for her, but for all the Nine Realms.”

“No pressure then,” Harry said dryly.

Odin’s expression remained grave. “This is no jest, mortal. If Malekith succeeds, everything you know, everything you love, will cease to exist. The universe will return to eternal night.”

“I understand,” Harry said, his tone becoming serious. “What do you need from me?”

“The containment of the Aether I sensed… I presume that’s your doing?”

“It is.”

“Hmm. It is the only thing keeping Jane Foster alive,” Odin said, eyeing him critically. “Our healers will need to study both the Aether and your power over it to devise a safe extraction method. This will require your full cooperation.”

“You have it,” Harry agreed. “Whatever it takes to help Jane.”

Odin nodded, then turned his attention to Sylvia. His expression hardened again, but there was something else there too. Grief, perhaps, or regret. “As for you, daughter, I expect you in my chambers this evening to discuss your absence and the circumstances of your departure. And also about what happened. About your mother.”

“I have nothing to say to you,” Sylvia said quietly.

“With respect, Allfather,” Harry said, his voice calm but firm, “Sylvia will come to your chambers when and if she chooses. Not because you command it. As I said, she is mine, and her choices are her own to make.”

Odin’s jaw tightened, and for a moment it looked like he might argue. But something in Harry’s expression, or perhaps the strange power he sensed about him, made the Allfather reconsider. The fact that he had the power to limit the Aether’s powers was not lost on Odin either, and it made him even more apprehensive of Harry.

“As you will. You are dismissed. Thor will show you to your chambers.”

They left the throne room in tense silence. Thor was waiting for them in the hallway, having apparently left Jane with Sif and the healers.

“That was bold,” Thor said once they were away from the throne room. “Few speak to Father in such a manner.”

“I meant what I said,” Harry replied. “Sylvia doesn’t owe him obedience just because he took her in. Especially not after everything that’s happened to her under his tender care. Family is more than blood or obligation.”

Thor’s expression grew somber. “Mother’s death was... difficult for all of us. Father has never been the same since.”

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Harry said genuinely. “But that doesn’t give him the right to use it as a weapon against Sylvia.”

Thor nodded slowly. “You have given me much to think about regarding family and duty.” He gestured down the hallway. “Come, I will show you to your chambers. They are in the guest wing, reserved for honored visitors.”

“Honored visitors who’ve just thoroughly pissed off the Allfather?” Harry asked.

“Honored visitors who have proven they cannot be easily intimidated,” Thor corrected with a slight smile. “Father respects strength, even when it challenges his authority.”

As they walked through the palace, Harry noticed the looks they received. Some were curious, some hostile, but all were focused primarily on Sylvia. He squeezed her hand gently, sending reassurance through their bond.

The chambers Thor led them to were luxurious. Large windows overlooked the city, a massive bed dominated one wall, and a sitting area complete with extravagant Asgardian furniture filled another. A balcony opened onto a view that took Harry’s breath away.

“These will be yours during your stay,” Thor said. “If you need anything, simply ask one of the servants.” He paused. “I must return to Jane. The healers will want to begin their examination soon, and I wish to be there.”

“Of course,” Harry said. “Keep us updated on her condition.”

After Thor departed, Harry and Sylvia stood alone in the chambers. The moment the door closed, Sylvia’s carefully maintained composure began to crack.

“Being back here,” she said quietly, moving to the balcony. The view of Asgard spread before them, beautiful and oppressive in equal measure. “I thought I’d be able to handle it better, but everything feels wrong. Like the walls are closing in.”

Harry joined her at the railing, wrapping his arms around her from behind. Through their bond, he could feel her anxiety, the memories this place stirred up, the old wounds being reopened. “Talk to me. Tell me what you’re feeling.”

“It’s the memories,” Sylvia admitted, leaning back against him. “Every corner of this palace holds some reminder of why I left. The judgmental looks, the whispered conversations that stopped when I entered a room, the constant feeling of being evaluated and found wanting. And now, on top of all that, the knowledge that she’s gone. That I took her from them.”

“They’re idiots,” Harry said bluntly. “Every single one of them who made you feel that way.”

Despite herself, Sylvia laughed softly. “Careful. You’re speaking of Asgard’s finest.”

“I stand by my statement.” Harry pressed a kiss to her temple. He rested his chin on her shoulder, nuzzling her neck and said gently, “Tell me what happened. The whole story.”

For a long moment, Sylvia was silent. When she finally spoke, her voice was barely above a whisper. “I was practicing advanced magic in one of the palace training rooms. Forbidden magic, actually. Spells that manipulated reality itself. I was obsessed with proving myself, with showing everyone that I was just as capable as Thor, just as worthy of being called a child of Odin.”

She paused, collecting herself. “I thought I could handle it. I’d studied the theory extensively, practiced the basic forms. But theory and practice are very different things when you’re dealing with magic that can literally manipulate existence.”

Harry remained silent, just holding her, letting her tell the story at her own pace.

“The spell I was attempting was supposed to create a small pocket dimension,” Sylvia continued. “A space outside of normal reality where I could practice even more advanced magic without risk. Or so I thought. But I miscalculated. I didn’t account for how the spell would interact with Asgard’s own magical field, with the energies that flow through this realm.”

Her voice broke slightly. “The spell spiraled out of control. It created a rift, a tear in reality itself. Not a pocket dimension, but a void that started consuming everything around it. I tried to stop it, to reverse the spell, but I couldn’t. It was too powerful, too far gone.”

Tears were streaming down her face now. “Frigga must have sensed something was wrong. She came running into the training room just as the rift was expanding. She saw what was happening, saw me at the center of it, and she didn’t hesitate. She used her own magic to try to stabilize the rift, to close it before it could consume the entire palace.”

“What happened?” Harry asked softly.

“She succeeded,” Sylvia said bitterly. “She closed the rift, saved the palace, saved me, saved countless lives. But the cost... The rift collapsed on her. The energies she was using to contain it turned inward when it closed. It was instant. One moment she was there, the next she was just... gone. Not dead in the traditional sense. Erased. Unmade.”

“Sylvia,” Harry said, turning her to face him. Her face was streaked with tears.

“That’s another reason why Odin hates me,” she continued. “Why he can barely look at me without grief and anger. I killed his wife. Thor’s mother. The Queen of Asgard. And for what? My own arrogance, my desperate need to prove myself. I traded the life of the only person who ever truly cared about me for nothing.”

“It was an accident,” Harry said firmly. “A terrible, tragic accident, but an accident nonetheless.”

“Does it matter?” Sylvia asked. “The result is the same. She’s gone because of me. Because I was too proud, too stubborn to accept my limitations.”

Harry cupped her face gently, making her look at him. “Listen to me. What happened was a tragedy. But you were trying to improve yourself, to grow stronger. That’s not a crime. The fact that it went wrong, that the consequences were so severe, doesn’t make you a monster. It makes you someone who learned the hardest possible lesson about the weight of power.”

“I don’t deserve your forgiveness,” Sylvia whispered.

“Maybe not,” Harry said. “But you have it anyway. And more importantly, you need to find a way to forgive yourself. Carrying this guilt, this self-hatred, it’s not honoring Frigga’s memory. It’s letting that moment define your entire existence.”

“How can I let it go?” Sylvia asked. “Every time I close my eyes, I see her. I see the moment she ceased to exist. I hear Odin’s howl of grief, Thor’s devastated cries. How do I move past that?”

“One day at a time,” Harry said. “One moment at a time. You acknowledge what happened, you accept your role in it, but you don’t let it consume you. Frigga gave her life to save you. Don’t dishonor that sacrifice by refusing to live.”

Sylvia stared at him for a long moment, then pulled him into a fierce embrace. “What would I do without you?”

“Probably brood magnificently while planning elaborate revenge schemes,” Harry said, trying to lighten the mood slightly. “But luckily, you don’t have to find out.”

Despite everything, Sylvia laughed softly against his chest. “I love you, you know that?”

“I do,” Harry replied. “And I love you. All of you, including the parts you think are broken or unforgivable.”

They stood like that for a while, holding each other as the weight of the conversation settled. Finally, Sylvia pulled back, wiping her eyes.

“Thank you,” she said. “For listening. For not judging. For just... being here.”

“Always,” Harry promised.

She studied his face for a long moment, then leaned in and kissed him. It started gentle but quickly deepened as the emotional intensity of the moment transformed into physical need, a desire to feel something other than pain and guilt.

Harry responded instantly, his hands sliding to her waist, gripping her hips firmly as she pressed her body flush against his. Her full breasts crushed against his chest, her hips grinding instinctively into the growing hardness in his pants.

When they finally broke apart, both were breathing harder, lips swollen and eyes dark with hunger.

"I need you," Sylvia whispered. "I need to feel something other than this guilt. Need to remember what it's like to be wanted, to feel so much pleasure that I can't think, to be loved despite everything."

"You are loved," Harry said firmly, cupping her face with one hand while the other dug into her hip. "Despite everything, because of everything. All of it makes you who you are. The woman I crave, mind, body and soul."

He kissed her again, slower this time, savoring the taste of her lips, her tongue tangling with his in a wet, heated dance. His hands moved up her back, working on her clothes, and she helped him eagerly, her own hands tugging at his shirt, yanking it over his head and tossing it aside.

Her top fell away soon after, exposing her perfect breasts, heavy and pert, her nipples already hardened into tight peaks from arousal and the cool air. Harry paused and stared at her.

“You’re beautiful,” he said softly, his voice husky with desire.

He kissed her again, swallowing whatever she was about to say, and she let out a soft moan. His lips trailed lower, down her neck to her collarbone, and even further, capturing one nipple in his mouth. He sucked hard, flicking the sensitive nub with his tongue, his teeth grazing just enough to make her gasp.

Sylvia’s head fell back, a soft moan escaping her throat as his hands explored her sinful body. He palmed her breasts, his fingers gently rolling and pinching her nipples until they throbbed. He squeezed her tits as he sucked on her neck before reaching behind her to cup her ass, pulling her tighter against his erection.

They moved toward the bed, their mouths locked and their hands working to undress each other fully. Harry’s pants hit the floor, his cock springing free, and Sylvia’s eyes locked on it. She wrapped her hand around the shaft, stroking him gently as she bit her lip, her thumb smearing the pre-cum all over the head.

Harry lowered her on the bed and hovered over her, taking his time, memorizing every curve, every sensitive spot that made her gasp or arch into his touch. He kissed down her chest and stomach, parting her thighs to reveal her slick folds, swollen and dripping with arousal.

The scent of her was intoxicating, and it drove him wild. He licked her slowly at first, his tongue tracing her outer folds before he teased her clit, sucking gently as she bucked against his mouth.

“Harry!” She cried out throatily, her hands fisting into his hair as he devoured her, two fingers sliding inside her tight heat and curling to hit that spot that made her inner walls clench. “Please… fuck! Don’t stop!”

“I’ve got you,” he murmured against her pussy, the vibrations making her whimper. “I’ve always got you.”

He ate her out relentlessly, his tongue flicking her clit and his fingers pumping in and out of her until she was soaking his hand, her juices coating his chin. All he wanted was to show her she mattered, that she was more than her worst moments. He pinched her clit, gently spanked her thigh, and licked her juices eagerly.

When she pulled him back up to kiss him again, her eyes were filled with tears, but these were different. These were not tears of grief but overwhelming emotion, of being seen and accepted completely. Their lips met in a needy kiss, and Sylvia poured ever bit of raw emotion into the kiss.

“I love you,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “I love you so much it terrifies me.”

“I know,” he said softly, positioning himself above her, his cock pressing against her wet entrance, teasing her slick folds. “I feel the same way.”

He slowly pressed forward and entered her, and they both stilled for a moment, just breathing together and feeling the sensation. Slowly, he moved, his thick length stretching her inch by inch, filling her completely until he was buried to the hilt inside her hot, tight grip.

Their bond flared, raw emotions flowing between them, amplifying every sensation, the pulsing of his cock inside her and the flutter of her pussy around his length.

They moved slowly at first, their eyes locked, watching as pleasure gradually replaced the vulnerability in her expression. He thrust hard and deep, grinding against her, his hips rolling to rub against her clit with each stroke.

“You feel incredible,” he murmured, one hand tangling in her hair while the other gripped her hip, his fingers sinking into her flesh. “So tight, so wet… fucking perfect. You were made for me, weren’t you?”

Sylvia let out a wordless moan as she wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, her heels digging into his ass. Her arms also came up to wrap around him as they pressed flush against each other.

The pace of their fucking grew, and Harry pounded into her relentlessly. He buried his face into her neck, kissing and nipping at her sensitive skin. Sylvia gasped and writhed beneath him as he bit down to mark her, her breasts bouncing with each powerful thrust. Her nails raked down his back, leaving red trails that stung deliciously. Their sweat-slicked skin slapped together, the wet sounds of their raw fucking filling the room.

Through their bond, Harry could feel Sylvia climbing toward her orgasm. He could feel her pussy tightening, her breaths coming in rough pants, and the moment she was right on the edge, her clit throbbing against his skin.

“Let go,” he whispered in her ear, his voice rough as he sensed his own climax approaching. “I’ve got you. Come for me, Sylvia.”

She did, crying his name out loud as pure pleasure coursed through her, her walls convulsing around him. She squirted slightly as she came hard, soaking them both. Harry followed moments later, groaning out loud as he gave one final thrust, spilling hot ropes of cum deep inside her. Their bond flared once again, the sensation amplified until he couldn’t tell where his pleasure ended and hers began.

They collapsed together, their bodies trembling with the aftershocks of their orgasm as they breathed heavily. Harry rolled to the side, pulling Sylvia with him so she was tucked against his chest, her head resting over his heart, his softening cock still buried inside her.

“Feel better?” He asked after a moment, his fingers teasing lazy patterns on her back and dipping lower to tease the curve of her ass.

“Much better,” she replied, her voice husky and fully sated. “You have a real talent of making me feel everything except you. How good you fuck me, and how full you make me feel.”

“That’s the idea,” he smiled, pressing a soft kiss to her lips. “You spend too much time in your own head, thinking about things you can’t change.”

“Says the man who broods so well,” she teased, her hand idly stroking his chest.

“I never said I was immune to the problem,” he chuckled. “Just that I see it in you as well.”

They lay in comfortable silence for a moment, both lost in their thoughts but feeling content in each other’s presence. Sylvia shifted and smiled as she felt his cum trickling out of her slowly.

Through their bond, Harry could feel that Sylvia’s guilt was still there, but it was less prominent now, drowned out by their lovemaking. Good. She was more than her worst moments. Her worse mistakes.

“Thank you, Harry,” she said once again, her voice barely above a whisper.

“For what?”

“For giving me a reason to believe I deserve true happiness,” she said softly before adding mischievously, “And for fucking my doubts out of me, even if it’s just for now.”

Harry’s arms tightened around her. “I’m going to spend however long it takes to convince you of that, with my words, my body, everything.”

“That might take a while,” she said with a grin. “And loads of repeat performances.”

“Well, you won’t find me complaining,” he smirked.

Sylvia returned his smirk with a saucy one of her own before she threw her leg over his waist and straddled him.

It would indeed take more than one performance to convince her.

To be continued…