Page 91 of The Broken Dawn

"Never mind my mother." Jakob's eyes were dark, intent. "Come home with me anyway."

Hal nodded against his forehead, relief flooding through him. Yes. That was exactly what he needed.

They left the Armory and walked through the darkening woods hand in hand, fingers interlaced so tightly it almost hurt. The cottage windows glowed golden in the dusk, and the rich smell of baking bread wrapped around them as they approached. Harald breathed it in deeply – yeast and warmth and safety. How had this little farmhouse become more home to him than any palace?

Sarah looked up from where she was setting out candles on the table as they entered. Her eyes moved from their clasped hands to Hal's tear-stained cheeks, then to the sadness and desperation clear on her son's face. Hal felt stripped bare under that gaze – not the way his mother's critical stare made him want to hide, but as if Sarah could see straight through to his heart. To how much he loved her son. To how much it was killing him to let him go.

Instead of judgment or pity, her face softened with something like blessing. She wiped flour from her hands with quiet purpose.

"Rachel!" she called, wiping flour from her hands. "Get your coat. We're having Shabbat dinner with the Issacsons tonight."

Rachel appeared, confusion clear on her face until she caught sight of them, Hal tear-stained and worn, and Jakob clutching his hand defiantly. Her eyes widened in understanding. "Oh! Right. Yes, of course. Those plans we made, uh, earlier. With Chava and Aaron."

Harald felt Jakob's hand tighten around his own, anchoring him in that moment, in that place where he was seen and known and loved for exactly who he was.

Harald watched Sarah and Rachel disappear into the gathering dusk, their coats and shawls pulled tight against the winter wind. The click of the latch behind them felt impossibly loud in the sudden quiet of the cottage. His heart thundered in his chest as he turned to face Jakob, finding his own nervousness and desire mirrored in those bright blue eyes.

The first kiss was gentle, soft and sweet as if they were learning the newness of this connection they'd just forged. Jakob's thumbs brushing over his cheekbones with such tenderness that Harald's eyes stung with fresh tears. He pressed closer, deepening the kiss, trying to memorize every detail - the slight chap of Jakob's lips, the way Jakob's breath hitched when Harald's fingers clasped the nape of his neck.

Time seemed to stretch and compress around them as they traded increasingly desperate kisses. Harald couldn't tell if minutes or hours had passed, could barely remember a time when he wasn't pressed against Jakob, surrounded by his warmth and strength. Each touch felt like a brand, marking him, claiming him. Mine, his heart sang with every beat. And I am yours.

"Hal," Jakob breathed against his mouth, the name a prayer and a plea. His hands had found their way under Harald's uniform jacket, fingers tracing patterns that made Harald shiver despite the warmth of the kitchen. "My prince. Love you." Each endearment was punctuated with a kiss that made Harald's knees weak.

The cottage creaked and settled around them, but Harald barely noticed. All he could focus on was Jakob - the solid reality of him, present and strong under Hal's hands. The way his fingers trembled slightly as they worked the buttons of Harald's shirt, the soft sounds he made when Harald's lips found that sensitive spot below his ear. Tomorrow would come with all its duties and demands, but tonight? Tonight belonged to them alone.

Jakob suddenly pulled back, his eyes catching the fading light through the window. "Wait," he whispered, pressing one more quick kiss to Harald's lips. "I need to do something."

Harald watched, transfixed, as Jakob moved to where his mother had left candles out on the sideboard, their holders gleaming silver in the failing light. His hands were steady as he struck the match, though Harald could see the slight tremor in his shoulders.

"We sanctify time," Jakob explained softly, holding the match. "Set apart this night from all other nights. Make it holy." He paused, a slight flush coloring his cheeks. "I know it probably seems strange to you..."

"No," Harald breathed, moving closer. "It's beautiful. Show me?"

Jakob lit the candles, then covered his eyes with his hands. His voice, when he began to sing, was clear and sweet in the gathering darkness. The Hebrew words wrapped around them like silk, ancient and beautiful. Harald didn't understand the meaning, but he felt the weight of centuries in each syllable, the quiet, still power of this moment when time itself seemed to pause.

When Jakob lowered his hands, the candlelight caught the tears on his cheeks. Harald reached out to brush them away, but Jakob caught his hand, pressing a kiss to his palm.

"Blessed are You, the Lord our God," he translated roughly, voice thick with emotion, "who has given us life, sustained us, and brought us to this moment."

The words settle into Harald's bones like a physical benediction. This moment. Their moment. Sanctified and blessed and set apart from all others.

"Mine..." Hal whispers into the kiss when their lips part.

"Yes, yours." Jakob replies, pressing further into the kiss, bringing Hal's hand down to the front of his trousers, where he could feel Jakob's cock straining against the wool. "God, Hal, please."

Jakob pressed forward, his kisses growing more desperate as he walked Hal backward across the small room. Hal let himself be guided, stumbling slightly as his heel caught on something - a floorboard, a rug, he didn't care. Jakob's hands were firm on his shoulders, steering him toward the box bed tucked into the corner.

When the backs of Hal's legs hit the wooden frame, Jakob pushed him down onto the narrow mattress, following him down with predatory grace. His hand shot out to cushion Hal's head as they settled into the cramped space.

"Careful," Jakob murmured against his lips, but there was something possessive in the way he said it, like he was the one taking care of Hal now.

The bed creaked beneath them, the thin mattress barely softening the wooden slats underneath. But Harald didn't care about comfort. All that mattered was Jakob's solid weight pressing him down, the way their bodies fit together despite the cramped space enclosed on three sides by wooden walls.

"Jakob," Harald gasped between kisses, overwhelmed by how much he wanted this, wanted him. Wanted to memorize every detail of this moment - the fabric of Jakob's uniform shirt beneath his palms as he worked the buttons free, the familiar scent of hay and earth that clung to his skin when the shirt fell open, the way the candlelight caught the hollow of his throat when they briefly parted for air.

He swore his oath to me, Hal thinks, as he brings his mouth to the hollow of Jakob's collar bone, licking and sucking his way down his sternum and feeling the beat of his heart under his lips. Me, not the crown. Not the country. Not my father or the throne. Jakob's oath belongs to him alone, and he'll be damned if he lets any force in the world take that away from him. Not even death.

"...please." Jakob begs, soft and low. His voice is already rough. "Hal, more."