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...
Now, as I unroll the map across the expansive dining table and anchor the curved edges with paperweights, I direct my finger towards the layout of Vannaheim palace.
With precision, I indicate the vault's location. "Here," I begin, talking to Joben. "This is where you'll enter. Where you stealthily plant the orb. But not just in any location. They have undoubtedly combed through every corner of the vault. We need to conceal it in a spot they could claim to have overlooked."
"And remind me again, how do I navigate past the guards without being detected?" Joben interjects, seeking clarification once more.
"I've told you," I reassure him. "I will send a letter announcing my intended arrival. Once we're there, you can feign illness as an excuse to be absent from the room. I will keep the Queen occupied while you follow this route," I trace my finger along the map, showing him the exact path. "It leads to the maids' quarters—an old, dimly lit passage that most no longer use, but just beyond that reveals the vault. You'll dispose of the orb once inside."
"But how will I bypass the guards, surely I will encounter many along the way?"
"I can assist with magic, but my powers have limitations. The vault is deep, and I can only sustain my spell for a limited distance. But fret not. With a Jotun presence within the palace, the Vanir guards will primarily focus on protecting the queen. They won't waste resources guarding the vault."
Joben's gaze reveals both worry and inner conflict. "Are you certain about this, my king? Jotun's may be feared and labelled as savage, but we do not resort to deception."
"Would you prefer that I admit defeat and become a laughingstock among other realms when Vannaheim proves us wrong?" I retort.
Joben's expression sags, clearly torn between his moral beliefs and my command. But this plan is my only way forward. It safeguards my reputation and grants me the one thing I yearn: time with Annalise.
I need her within the confines of my own domain, where I can shower her with luxuries that will challenge her beliefs about Jotunheim and Jotun's themselves. She will see that Jotuns are far from an inferior race when I showcase all I've achieved and the wealth I've accumulated, including gold, diamonds, and rare paintings. Women love shiny, expensive objects. I'm confident she'll be awed by these material displays, followed by the boastful commentary of how I acquired them.
"It just feels wrong," Joben replies, his voice laden with hesitance.
"The trick is not to feel, but to act," I assert, drawing from my own experiences. "That's how I have operated all these years."
"And has it worked out well for you?" he inquires, his question piercing through my defences and resurfacing memories I'd rather keep buried.
Growing up, self-hatred often led me to lash out, primarily at those closest to me. It created rifts, but I constantly reminded myself to suppress feelings and to simply act.
Reflecting on those times and recognising the strained relationship with my Asgardian family, I realise that perhaps it isn't the best advice to impart to Joben. However, I choose to keep my thoughts to myself and hold my tongue, for I rely on his assistance for the success of our plan.
"I am the Jotun king, am I not? My life has turned out quite well." I conceal the fact that, despite finding greater happiness since connecting with my people, there remains a lingering sadness within me. I yearn to mend the broken bond with my family and find a soulmate of my own, hoping to fill the void of loneliness that persists in my heart.
Annalise is the antidote to my sorrow—I am certain of it.
"In that case, I will not feel and just act, doing as you say without considering the repercussions."
Joben's words bring forth another surge of regret, adding to the already overflowing well of mistakes in my heart. Advising him to emulate my broken self is undoubtedly misguided.
"We will emerge triumphant!" Joben exclaims, gracing me with a smile. I mirror his expression, but beneath its surface, I find no cause for celebration. Joben is inherently good, his virtue rooted deep within him, and my presence is tarnishing that purity. How can I celebrate when I witness the darkening impact I have on his gentle nature?
I must do better.
And I will.
Once I have my queen.
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