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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As I'm surrounded by a multitude of blue-faced individuals, their vibrant red eyes shine with affectionate smiles, and a surge of pride engulfs me. These are my people. The Jotuns. And the connection we share is not only profound, but unbreakable.
Yet it hasn't always been this way. There was a time when I harboured hate for those very same faces. When I despised my original form and sought to conceal it by assuming the guise of an Asgardian.
For years I believed the Jotuns were an inferior species. That I, being a Jotun, was not good enough. The weight of this internalised prejudice eventually took its toll, and I'd had enough. The inner turmoil made existing too unbearable.
So, desiring to end it all. I chose to abandon myself in a land I believed to be filled with savagery, the land of my birth. Jotunheim.
It seemed fitting at the time. What crueller fate than to spend my last breath in a place everyone detested. However, upon arriving in the unforgiving land of my people. What unfolded before me defied all my expectations, and I was forced to reconsider everything I thought I knew.
Contrary to my wrong assumptions, Jotunheim was not a realm of barbarians after all. Instead, it revealed itself as a place of enlightenment, a place that held within it a rich tapestry of beauty, wisdom, and a vibrant culture.
Immersing myself in this new world, the realm I had regretfully dismissed, I saw my people for what they truly are—a worthy race. It made me realise the extent of my foolishness. How had I allowed myself to be swayed by the words and judgements of others without seeking the truth firsthand? How could I, The God of mischief, been so misled?
I was angry with myself. But instead of wallowing in self-pity, I sharply awakened from my naivety and surrounded myself with my people—my people, whose qualities surpassed my previous expectations.
They possessed intelligence, compassion, and a deep sense of community that I'd never imagined possible. For the first time, I felt a genuine love for who I truly was, and it propelled me forward, inspiring me to claim my rightful place as their leader.
I expected some resistance, of course, being a newly arrived Jotun asserting my birthright to the throne. But as soon as they recognised the markings I bore as a Laufeyson, they pledged their unwavering loyalty. Loyalty to me, their new king.
With such ease and welcome, any doubts I had disappeared, along with my unoriginal visage. My Asgardian form became a thing of the past as I wholeheartedly embraced my true self, no longer concerned with conforming to conventional standards of beauty.
I knew my blue skin, imposing stature, and red eyes were not what society deemed as typical or desirable. Yet, I harboured no shame for my Jotun form. Not any more. I had finally found myself.
The acceptance of my true identity, however, came with its consequences. Prior to my ascension to the throne of Jotunheim, I had garnered a certain level of respect due to my adoption into the Odinson royal family. But that respect swiftly diminished once I assumed the title of the Jotun king.
The realms soon regarded me as a savage being, an unfit race, and saw my kind as lowly as pond scum. I knew then that respect was not something that I could passively earn. It had to be demanded through actions. And since the Jotun race was already perceived as savage and brutal in the eyes of many, instead of denying this perception, I made the conscious choice to embrace it, putting truth to their tall tales.
These leaders who shunned me soon witnessed the less-than-gentle aspects of my nature when I delved into the concealed history of my realm that revealed a dark and unjust past. It was found that countless realms had taken advantage of Jotunheim's unruled state when it had no king, seizing precious lands and valuable resources without facing any consequences. These acts of theft I saw as a betrayal, robbing my people of what rightfully belonged to them, and it made my anger burn brightly, fueling a newfound determination.
For my first order as the newly crowned king, I decided to embark on a relentless mission to reclaim all that had been taken from Jotunheim. Restoring our lands and reinstating the glory and respect that had been stripped away.
The mission was not undertaken lightly. It required strength, strategy, and perseverance. And although civil diplomacy was attempted on my part, it was met with resistance and refusal, forcing me to employ force.
One by one, we waged battles, strategising and fighting with all our might. Our victories were hard-fought, and with each conquest, we reclaimed our treasures and lost wealth. It was glorious, and I revelled in the triumph as the once mocking laughter turned into fear and forced respect.
I had proven myself to be a great king, and my ambitions for Jotunheim soared higher than ever before. However...
There was one realm that remained unconquered.
The formidable Vannaheim.
Known for its impenetrable defenses and reserved nature. It stood as a symbol of power and resilience. But I saw it as an opportunity to make an example of and purposely saved the best until last.
Now, as I sit on my throne, before the vast gathering of frost giants, their jubilation filling the air, I feel a surge of pride. The victories we have achieved together have brought us to this moment, where only one final mission remains—the downfall of Vannaheim, the supposedly impregnable fortress.
In my mind, I envision the grandeur of that conquest. The mighty walls of Vannaheim crumbling under the relentless assault of my army. The world bearing witness to the fall of a realm once thought invincible, marking the moment in history.
I can almost hear the cheers and admiration of the divine gods as they speak of my success. The halls of Valhalla resounding with tales of my conquest, my name whispered with reverence and awe.
As a surge of exhilaration courses through my veins, it compels me to rise from my icy throne and capture the attention of every Jotun present. They fall silent, eagerly anticipating my impending speech.
Addressing them with conviction, I declare aloud, "My fellow people, my loyal army. Tonight, we shall revel in celebration, for the realms now tremble before us. They finally see the true might of Jotunheim."
The resounding cheers that follow reverberate in my ears, but raising a single hand, I bring calm to the gathering and speak.
"Tomorrow, after we have feasted on fine wine and figs, we shall launch an assault on the realm that has long evaded us. King Herrick of Vannaheim shall suffer the consequences of ignoring our warnings. We shall make a spectacle of the last realm that dared to evade us. Vannaheim will crumble!"
The air crackles with an electric energy as my words settle upon the ears of my warriors. As I gaze into their eyes, I see mirrored within them the same excitement that fills my own. We stand united, driven by an indescribable sense of purpose, a fierce determination to see Vannaheim fall.
Once I have achieved this great feat, not only will my devoted followers express their loyalty by chanting my name, but even powerful figures in distant realms will utter, King Loki.
It matters not if their sentiments are born of fear, it holds no significance. What's important is the demand for respect.
