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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Why did I ever suggest building a puzzle?
The once-promising challenge that was supposed to bring Annalise and me together has transformed into a daunting and time-consuming ordeal. No fun comes from it, not even with my sweet Annalise by my side.
The intricate puzzle pieces, scattered haphazardly around me, seem to mock my feeble attempts at solving it, and I find myself on the verge of pulling chunks out of my hair, my frustration mounting.
Despite appearing calm, I'm trapped in a stagnant state, seated cross-legged on the floor of my royal suite for hours. Mentally, I'm clawing at invisible bars, the chaotic mess that surround me forming an oppressive prison, closing in on me and stifling my every move.
These evil kits were surely made by the devil himself, forged within the bowels of his hell, designed to inflict pain and suffering upon anyone foolish enough to attempt them.
I can just imagine it now: mischievous little demons, their plump forms wracked with laughter as they whimsically toss random wooden shapes into a box. Then, with a devilish grin, they affix an image of a breathtaking three-dimensional masterpiece onto its packaging, a lure for unsuspecting victims.
Comparing the picture on the packaging to the minuscule progress we've made now, feels like a cruel joke. There is no likeness. None at all. What are we even building?
"Keep up, Loki," Annalise remarks, her voice strained with concentration. She hunches over, her eyes fixed on the box, desperately seeking guidance on what our creation is supposed to resemble. She has yet to fully grasp that what we construct will bear no resemblance to the fantastical image depicted.
Peering over, I have a quick peek at what she's working on, only to see that she's still attempting to slot the same incorrect piece into the same incorrect space. I'm tempted to shout at the top of my lungs and tell her that those parts do not fit, that none of these blasted shapes fit. But such ungentlemanly behavior would surely ruin the experience for her, and instead, I hold back my impulsive outburst.
"Are you sure that piece goes there, Annalise? Perhaps try another part," I suggest, hoping she'll heed my gentle coercion. However, she responds with a gentle hum, indicating that she isn't paying attention to my words, too consumed with her present task.
I'm not ashamed to admit that my patience is wearing thin. Both with the demon-made "hobby kit" and with my sweet, innocent Annalise.
Where is the fun bonding I had envisioned? The rolling around laughing moments? We are but a slave to this hellish puzzle, sucked in by the need to complete it.
It's no surprise that Annalise felt intimidated by these kits. Had she tried to tackle this alone, I imagine she would still be grappling with the same puzzle for years. She possesses beauty, intelligence, and confidence, but engineering is not her forte. And truth be told, it's not mine either.
