A dual pov narrative from both main characters-Loki and Annalise. If you enjoy slow burn, immersive stories, that will make you have all the feels, followed by the long awaited spice, then stop your search. Here is the story for you!
As the newly cr...
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The sensation of crumpling paper within my palm begins to irritate me as I discard yet another unsatisfactory note. Hours have passed since I embarked on this endeavour to reply to King Loki, yet I have made no progress.
Getting right back to it, I reach for a fresh sheet of parchment and dip my quill in ink. Placing the nib to paper, I eagerly begin to scribble. However, every time I think I have the right words penned, upon rereading it, I find myself displeased with everything I've written.
Why is composing a letter so difficult? I pride myself on my proficiency in spoken and written words, having crafted numerous letters for my father in the past. So why do I lack the confidence to produce a satisfactory reply to the king of Jotunheim?
Could it be that his lyrical letter is simply too daunting to match? Anything I write will pale in comparison, appearing mediocre, plain, and dull. How can I compete with a skilled poet?
Frustrated, I crumple another copy of paper and toss it across the room, letting it land wherever it may. With my waste bin overflowing, the floor becomes the only available space to discard these inadequate attempts.
I rise from my seat and begin to pace the room. My mind in deep thought.
Perhaps simplicity is the key. A cold and formal response, strictly professional. I will inquire about the orb and subtly reference the deal we struck, omitting any mention of flowers, gifts, or the poem he sent me. Yes, that seems like a better approach. Simple and precise.
Quickly returning to my desk with renewed eagerness, I lift my quill once again, but my intentions are interrupted by a gentle tapping on my chamber door.
"Come in," I call out, knowing exactly who resides on the other side.
Ivor enters, holding a glass of milk.
"Bedtime, dear Annalise. You need rest."
I rise and meet him halfway, accepting the glass from his hand.
"You know, I am an adult and a queen, my bedtime can be whenever I choose," I playfully retort.
"While that is true, my dear, we both know you become grumpy without at least eight hours of sleep." We share a grin, and I know he is right. I can feel the fatigue in my eyes, my body urging my unrested mind to allow it some respite.
"Thank you for the milk. I will drink it and head straight to bed, I promise."
Ivor's curious gaze wanders around my room, taking in every corner. "I can't fathom how you manage to sleep in such a vibrant and fragrant space. These flowers from King Loki seem a bit excessive for a single room, don't you think?"
I glance at all the beautiful vases filled with an abundance of colourful blooms. "Actually, I believe I'll have the most restful sleep. It will be like slumbering outdoors, nestled in a meadow."
