The Lord of the sins

Freya's eyes opened and slowly adjusted to the room's brightness. She squinted and tried to get up from the cold floor where she lay, her head hammering like a train was running through it. She felt weak—weaker than she had been in her entire life. And the worst thing was that she barely remembered anything that happened. Or how she got in the… She suddenly flinched when she felt something crawling up her skin and her eyes got completely open. “Argh!“ Freya jumped off the floor as she saw the “thing” in question was a snake. It was very tiny but she had seen so much in her life to judge anything by their size. That thing could kill her with just a single strike for all she knew. She was so distracted by the snake crawling towards her that she didn't bother to look around the room and find out where she was. Eventually, she discovered that she was not alone when she heard someone sigh. Freya immediately forgot about the snake and raised her head to look at the entrance t

“We've gathered here once again for the wedding of our lovely Lord—” A single glance from the Lord sent the priest or whoever he was running to the back of the wooden table on the altar. “Er…” said the priest from his place of protection. “W-what I was trying to say is that—today is our L-lord's wedding day. And the bride may come up now.“ The 'Lord' then looked down at a very shocked and scared-looking Freya and outstretched his hands to her. Freya felt her heart beating faster than possible as she stared at his outstretched hand. The large room was filled with people looking at her with stern and pitiful expressions on their faces. She raised up her head and looked at his face, and noticed with scepticism that he didn't seem stressed or impatient in the least—like this was his daily routine. What was happening? Could she be dreaming? Was this some kind of joke someone she knew had plotted? But when Freya looked around for perhaps the third time, she realised that th

Freya almost couldn't remember the rest of the torture. But several minutes passed before she felt his touch off her body. He brought a towel and let it fall on her, starting to dry her before she flinched and nodded in the negative, her eyes closed from embarrassment. “I can dry myself… Draven,” she spoke, so embarrassed by the fact that he had seen and touched her body that she couldn't bear to look in his eyes. He didn't respond. After some seconds, Freya heard the bathroom door close shut. She immediately opened her eyes and stepped off the tub after drying herself. Then she looked at her appearance in the mirror. Nothing had changed —just that her cheeks were pink and she looked nervous and stressed. Freya stepped out of the bathroom to the chambers after wearing her nightgown, half-expecting to meet him there. But the room was empty. She felt a little sad about that. She walked to the mirror in the room with a comb in her hand, numb and wondering how her brother was far

“I don't know what is…” … “I feel very sorry for her…” … “until when will this continue…” These low voices were the first words Freya heard when she opened her eyes. Her neck ached slightly from pain, and for some seconds she closed her eyes again when she realised she was still alive. And back to the castle since she was lying on the royal bed in their chambers! “My Lady,” Edith's elated voice said and ran over to the bed, her expression furrowed in worry. “How are you feeling?“ Freya really wanted to pretend that she was still asleep and never wake up to face Draven again but knew they already knew she was awake. “Let her be, Edith,” Joan's annoyed voice sounded. “And get off the bed before Lord Draven comes in and see you there.“ At the mention of his name, Freya flinched and her eyes flew wide open. She abruptly jumped off the bed into a sitting position. “Good morning, my Lady,” the two maids said in unison, standing side-by-side with their heads bowed low

After the maids helped bathe Freya and helped her with changing her clothes, she sat on a chair facing the mirror about to comb her hair. She could see Joan and Edith's reflection behind her as she gently brushed her hair into the right places. They had offered to help her earlier but she refused. Freya had a lot on her mind. She was thinking about her situation—if she should still try to flee or not—if she should tell Draven to his face that she had feelings for him despite his ever-changing personality—if she should say how she felt about everything and push him to tell her about himself and why he said all those things to her. Did she really make a mistake coming out of that room as he had said? Freya stopped combing her hair and caught Joan's gaze at her through the mirror. She had been shocked minutes ago when she had revealed the identity of Lord Ethan. Until now, she couldn't believe that he was Draven's step-brother—”elder” step-brother for that matter. If that