A dual pov narrative from both main characters-Loki and Annalise. If you enjoy slow burn, immersive stories, with a good plot and the long awaited spice, then stop your search. Here is the story for you!
As the newly crowned king of Jotunheim, Loki...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
As soon as Loki returns to the dining room, I instinctively shift in my seat, sitting up straighter to present myself in the most poised and elegant manner. I'm wearing the dress he made specifically for me, and I am determined to showcase it properly, without any hint of slouching.
He seats himself at the head of the table, offering a gracious apology for his abrupt departure. But I understand the weighty responsibilities that come with being a ruler, and so I quickly reassure him that he is free to leave and attend to his kingly duties at any time.
As soon as I reassure him, there is a subtle shift in the air. I see the tension ease from his shoulders, the rigidity in his posture softening ever so slightly. It's as if my understanding eases his worries. But he shouldn't be anxious that I will judge him. I never will.
He observes me intently, his eyes lingering on my bare shoulders where the yellow shawl has fallen. "You grace this room with your presence, Min karlek."
I look around the room purposefully, taking in the intricate details of the large, spacious dining hall. "This room already exudes brilliance, Loki. Nothing can make it shine as much as it already does. Its décor is a timeless classic; I'm glad to see you've kept its original features."
I imagine with a room this size, it must be used for hosting grand banquets— its luxurious nature demands to be shown off.
"I wouldn't change anything original, it's been like this since this palace was first built. However, you are wrong. With you in here, a once lifeless room, even if steeped in old charm, comes alive once more." He smiles at me, and I sense no flattery in his words, only genuine sentiment.
The doors suddenly open, and a striking blue-skinned maid suddenly enters the room, her smooth complexion like the stillest sea.
I can't help but look at her, admiring her flawless features, and how the gold bangles adorning her arm contrast so beautifully against the hue of her skin. She is a perfect specimen of a Jotun female—perfect for Loki, as my mind suddenly makes me abruptly aware.
She is able to give him heirs. Able to be the desires that stir his loins. Able to be his queen.
I grip the napkin in my lap, twisting it tightly to try and curb the impulsive, intrusive thoughts I thought I had long since overcome. Why now, with the appearance of a beautiful Jotun, does my mind suddenly start bickering with my heart again? Instilling doubts and making me feel so inferior.
My eyes are drawn to her every movement as she dutifully prepares the table. Even when carrying out a mundane task like this, she exudes perfection that makes me feel so plain and inadequate.
A sudden ache twists in my gut as I watch her move closer to Loki, positioning his cutlery and serving him his meal. This feeling enrages me, making my blood spike— a terrible emotion I do not understand.
