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 gaze skyward, my eyes following the lazy dance of clouds across an endless blue canvas. In the background, the meadow's natural noises surround me, a symphony carried by the gentle breeze.
My mind swims in euphoria—the same blissful contentment I felt after experiencing Loki's touch beneath the pink blossom tree, both of us cocooned in our private bubble where only we existed.
I sink deeper into the lush grass, its softness cradling me like a warm blanket. But as I relax, another sound breaks through the serenity, a distant echo muffled by the rustling grass.
I sit up on my elbows, scanning the landscape for any sign of life beyond the swaying flora. But I see no one. Not a soul. Yet, as though whispered, a ghostly murmur persists all around me, trying hard to blend into natures setting.
I recline once more, pillowing my head on interlaced fingers, dismissing the phantom sound. Smiling, I drink in the expanse above, dotted with clouds so impossibly white and fluffy they seem spun from the finest silk.
I reach up, fingers swirling whimsical patterns in the air as if I could pluck those silky masses from the sky. But then I hear it again—that drawl that doesn't belong here in my serene haven.
Why is it here?
Nothing should pierce this veil of bliss.
"Annalise..."
My name is uttered softly. Forcing me to listen.
"Annalise!!"
My body jerks upright, lungs heaving as the sound intensifies into unmistakable clarity. This is not just my name repeated, but Joben's blood-curdling shriek, his terror echoing in every rustling and whisper of the meadow.
Joben. Loki. Fandral.
Reality crashes through the walls of my dream, memories flooding back in a torrent of horror—Loki's shadow, an ominous presence, it bends Fandral like a puppet, the darkness swirling in Loki's eyes as he smirks.
I see Thor's energy crackling in protest, and then Joben, kneeling before me, his crimson gaze urging me to focus on him.
I'm safe with Joben. Always safe with Joben.
A smile flickers across my face, but it's short-lived. A weapon materialises as if conjured by my fear, hurtling towards us with deadly intent. I lunge to push Joben clear, but my limbs fall agonisingly short of their target. I want to scream, to warn him of the impending doom, but my voice is stolen, leaving me mute and helpless.
My eyes clamp shut, unwilling to witness the inevitable impact. But I hear the sickening thud, followed by an unnatural silence.
Hesitantly, I pry my eyes open, uncertain of what fresh horror my mind will conjure. Perhaps I'll awaken in my chambers, or maybe the dream will spiral into new depths of a nightmare. But as my vision clears, I freeze, mouth agape in a silent scream that steals the very breath from my lungs.
