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.
Feeling numb, I skulk through the corridors of my palace, following the lingering scent of Annalise. After she left with Leon to fill his belly, I sat in silence within her room, my mind consumed with thoughts of how to fix this.
I knew she was angry with me; her refusal to look at me before departing the room made that evident. I don't blame her. After the humiliation I had caused, the mere sight of me was too repulsive.
I planned to sit for a while, allowing Annalise some space, but the dark thoughts that ran through my mind as I sat alone, made me too anxious. Was she about to push my heart away? Could she be reconsidering her entire decision to be with me? The belief that she might, compelled me to move, and I decided to rush out of her chambers.
Now, as I approach the kitchen, I hear the sounds of pots and pans clanking away. I know Leon and Annalise are inside. Her scent lingering heavily in this area confirms my suspicion. I press my ear to the door, intently listening for any conversation between them, but fail to hear anything.
Shakily, I flatten my palm against the door, taking a hesitant breath before pushing it open. My eyes immediately find Annalise, her hand raised as she aids Leon in eating. I bite back my jealousy, teeth clenched tightly. Despite his arduous journey to get here, Leon's arms still work, he is perfectly capable of feeding himself.
Annalise's eyes lock onto mine, and for a moment, we linger in each other's gaze. But just as I think she's growing to accept the apology conveyed in my eyes, Leon speaks up, asking for another bite of his meal and pulling her attention away from me.
I can feel the lava, spitting and bubbling up inside me. Leon has taken this too far, and with every second he diverts Annalise away from me, I am closer to giving in to my dark thoughts.
He has no idea how close he is to the edge. One small push and he'll be hurtling from this world and thrust down to Hela.
Steeling myself, I stride purposefully towards their table, my steps measured and deliberate. Every cook in the kitchen scatters, recognising the intent behind my approach, and now the room is silent, the noise of pots and pans ceasing.
Pulling out the chair next to Annalise, I seat myself, my gaze fixed solely on her. Despite my presence, Annalise continues to feed Leon, who gleefully laps it up without a trace of shame. The groans he makes after each spoonful are deliberate, intended to annoy and stoke the flames of my rousing jealousy.
I'm boiling with rage already, but when Annalise uses a napkin to wipe the corners of his mouth, and he smiles affectionately, I have to dig my nails into the wooden table. An action to starve off the dangerous impulse to sear my handprint into the side of Leon's face.
Swallowing the lump in my throat, I speak softly, "Darling, may we talk?"
Ignoring my plea, Annalise continues to scoop up a generous portion of soft, honeyed oats, gently feeding it to Leon. His eyes never leave her face, as he too pretends I do not exist.
