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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A glimmer of hope arises within me as the trees begin to thin. In the distance, I can just make out the faint outline of the Asgardian border, our salvation so tantalisingly close.
"Stay with me, Leon," I cry out, clutching the reins of my exhausted mare tighter. "We're almost there."
A chill of dread grips my heart, no longer hearing Leon's whimpers. I hesitantly place my hand on his back, bracing myself for the worst. But relief floods through me when I feel his ragged, shallow breaths, deaths cold grip not yet claimed him.
A whistling hum suddenly cuts through the air, and an arrow slams into the tree beside me. The elves have now resorted to violence in their desperate attempt to halt my race to the Asgardian border. I quickly lean down, keeping myself and Leon as low as possible against my horse's body, shielding us both from the onslaught of the deadly attacks.
A high-pitched whinny echoes out, and my stomach clenches with fear for Fawler. I glance down, relieved to see only a graze on her side, the arrow having missed its intended target.
"Just a little more, girl," I whisper, encouraging my horse to continue, "Just a little more."
The landscape opens up, revealing the wide, open expanse of the Asgardian border. Ahead, I see the imposing figures of Asgardian soldiers patrolling the area, their armour gleaming even in the faint light. The sounds of our elven pursuers grow louder, but I refuse to look back. Instead, I raise my voice, calling out with desperate urgency.
"Help! Please, help us!" I cry, praying that someone, anyone, will hear my plea and come to our aid.
The vigil soldiers exchange uncertain glances, their weapons poised but their actions hesitant. It's clear they've heard my desperate call for help, yet they seem unwilling to intervene.
A troubling thought enters my mind—could Asgard be one of the realms in league with Tarryd? Is that why they do not help?
I quickly push away the thought. I can't lose focus now. Not when Leon's life hangs in the balance. Determination rises within me, burning brighter than the fear. If these Asgardian soldiers will not help willingly, then I will forge ahead, stampeding right through should I have to.
"One more big lap girl, do it for me, please!" I plead with Fawler, my heart racing as I approach the soldiers at full speed, not daring to slow down and risk capture.
Shouts of authoritative commands echo out, the Asgardian soldiers feeling threatened by my fast advance. They raise their weapons, positioned to stop me in my tracks. But then, a single figure steps forward, his commanding presence undeniable. I lock eyes with the captain, my anguished gaze silently begging for his understanding and mercy.
Please let me pass. Please.
He seemingly recognises my turmoil as the hardness of his demeanour shifts, and to my relief, I hear his voice ring out, ordering his men to stand down. The soldiers immediately lower their weapons, parting just in time to allow Fawler to speed through.
