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...
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That last embrace from Loki was everything. But it made leaving him the second time even harder.
The journey that followed felt long and uneventful, lacking the vibrant presence Loki had provided. Leon made attempts at conversation, trying to cheer me, but I remained detached, my mind elsewhere as I gazed absentmindedly out the carriage window.
Time drifted by in a hazy blur as we traversed the perilous Jotun terrain. The wheels of the carriage often skidding, and occasionally becoming stuck in the snow. But Joben, ever the skilled Jotun, always managed to get us out of every predicament swiftly.
After we traversed through most of Jotunheim and now neared the border, Loki's words questioning Leon's miraculous arrival replayed in my mind.
The treacherous journey by carriage had underscored how challenging and dangerous this land could be. How, exactly, had Leon arrived in Jotunheim so fast, recovering quickly? The query now seemed all the more valid.
I study Leon intently, a seed of doubt taking root within me. He seems to sense my focused stare and turns to me, a smile curving his lips.
"Are you excited to return home, Annalise? We are just exiting this cold hell," he remarks, leaning back in relief.
"It's hardly hell, Leon," I snap defensively. "Besides, the cold doesn't bother me anymore. At first, it was bitter, but it's surprising how our bodies adapt. I'd think you'd know that, since you traversed much of it on foot."
My eyes narrow slightly, the questioning tone in my voice unable to be concealed. However, Leon says nothing about my subtle doubts, simply offering me a twitchy smile in return.
Compelled to delve deeper, I shift my body closer to his, not quite done with my line of questioning. "You must have been exhausted before you even reached the border of Jotunheim. Did you have no trouble with roamers?"
"Roamers?" he repeats, a flicker of unease crossing his features. "No... I was stealthy."
"And food? Water? How did you sustain your energy?" I press.
"The land provided. You know as well as I that Vanir are trained to hunt and forage. I found mushrooms, and a stream with fresh water. I could hardly stand the earthy taste of the fungi, but the bountiful water washed it down."
"Hm," I muse, a frown creasing my brow. "I wasn't aware that mushrooms grow in winter..."
Leon's eyes meet mine, his face expressionless for a moment. But after a visible gulp, the smile returns to his face. "Some mushrooms thrive near the damp stumps of trees. It was barely enough, but I managed until I reached you. And reaching you was all that mattered."
He takes my hand in his, quickly attempting to change the subject. "I was thinking, maybe when we get back, we can revisit our favourite place to play hide and seek, you know, the hollow tree behind the old derelict barn. It's still there—"
