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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I awake with a jolt as the scurrying sounds of mice running through the dark, cavernous room pierces the oppressive silence.
Though it feels like an eternity, the brief glimpse of light that enters through the tiny opening in the wall once per sunrise, alerts me that it's only been two sun-ups since I was first imprisoned here.
Despite my discomfort and gnawing hunger—the meagre scraps of food the guards shove under the door hardly enough to sustain me—I remain resolute. I know it will not be long before Loki comes searching for me, having not received the letters I am expected to send. Perhaps he will come sooner than the two weeks? I can only hope.
Sitting up on the hard metal bed, I wrap the thin, tattered blanket around my shoulders, seeking whatever small comfort it can provide against the chilling gusts of wind that blow through the cracks in the stone walls.
During the day, when my Vanir soldiers are awake, I take solace in the muffled sounds of their calls of hope, offering me strength. But at night, when the darkness envelops us all, the cries and pleas of the less seasoned among them become a torment on my soul, making this isolation all the more difficult to bear.
I feel a deep ache in my heart as I recall the harrowing events of last night. The wails of anguish from my fellow prisoners were utterly heartbreaking, bringing me to tears despite my efforts to remain strong. I tried to offer prayers to the gods, pleading for the sanity and wellbeing of my guards, but there was only so much I could endure.
Seeking respite from their tormented cries that cut me to my core, I stretched the full length of my chains, reaching the largest opening in the wall. There, I pressed my ear against the cold, rough surface, listening to the howling wind outside. The roar of the gusts drowned out the anguished pleas of my people, allowing me to close my eyes and imagine I was on the windswept shores, far away from this chamber of despair.
I move towards that opening now, leaning my ear against the damp stone to listen for the comforting rush of the wind. However, before I can listen to the familiar roar, I hear the unmistakable sound of approaching footsteps outside my door. My heart quickens as I realise someone is coming.
Quickly, I retreat and sit back down on the bed, trying to compose myself as my mind races with possibilities. Is it Asterion, the guard who occasionally brings me scraps of food? No, I've already received my little rations for the day, so that seems unlikely.
Could it be the same roamer who sometimes visits to taunt me from behind the locked door? Or, dare I even hope, could this be someone bringing news of my release?
The door creaks open, temporarily blinding me as the light from the lamps in the hallway floods the dank, hollow room. As my eyes adjust, I see a figure standing in the doorway—Tarryd.
His face twists into a grimace as he enters, the pungent odour of the cell clearly offending his senses. He pinches his nose closed, showing his distaste, before snapping his fingers to summon a guard.
