“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 the last one could not be true. She didn't know anybody who could manage to convince hundreds of people to help them portray a joke. And she was wearing a freaking wedding gown! What was really going on here? Freya was drawn out of her thoughts when she felt someone drag her off from the ground with force. In the next moment, she was staring at his dark eyes with her legs going weak and fragile under her. “Don't make me wait, or you're going to regret it,“ his voice was twice as harsh as Freya remembered. She trembled at that moment and only managed to calm down after reassuring herself that this was all a bad dream that she was soon going to wake up from. The Lord then shifted his gaze to the Priest and he came back to standing in front of the table. The priest blesses the couples' union and starts to ask while inadvertently avoiding the Lord's gaze: “Lord Dra—” he pauses from a groan from the Lord, and Freya immediately gets a hold on the fact that “The Lord” didn't want the priest to mention his name. The priest shifted uncomfortably in his long robe and cleared his throat for the third time. “My Lord… do you take my Lady as your—” “I do.“ His cold voice was really impatient this time. Freya looked at him with the corner of her eyes, her heart hammering in her ribcage. Why was he so pissed and angry about the situation? Isn't she supposed to be the angry one since she's being forced into something like… “My lady!“ the voice of the priest resonated in her ears, and from his tone she knew this wasn't the first time he called her. “I—I'm sorry.“ Freya looked at the Lord as she apologised, but his attention was focused elsewhere with the usual unreadable expression on his forbiddenly-handsome face. The priest looked really stressed as he continued. “Do you take my Lord as your—” “I do,” Freya replied before she could stop herself. A shock gasp escaped from the lips of everybody in the large room. And it seemed they were all thinking the same thing: Where did she get the guts to answer without letting the priest finish just because the Lord did that? Freya felt the weight of her actions on her shoulders even before she could look around at the people in the room. She was really scared now—more scared than she had been since all of these started. And the reason she was so scared was because she knew the Lord would be furious at what she did. But surprisingly, when she took a glance at his face, she saw that he was smiling—though the smile didn't reach his eyes and he still wasn't looking at her. “O-okay, then,” said the priest when he saw that the Lord didn't react to her actions. “My Lord, you may now kiss the bride.“ Freya stilled herself as she heard those words, since she had attended weddings before and knew that was the next thing. It wouldn't be her first time if he kissed her, so she couldn't understand why her heart raced at the thought of his lips on hers. She waited for him to make the first move, even moving closer like she was being possessed and completely forgot that there were hundreds of eager and anxious eyes watching their every move. The Lord leaned in slowly and lowered his head with his lingering blank expression. Freya shut her eyes as she waited for it, so aroused by his appearance that his kissing her felt very normal to her brain. One second passed… then two… and three, but she still didn't feel anything. It was only after a gasp from someone that she opened her eyes and saw that he was walking down the altar to the aisle. Freya's mouth opened in shock. She knew she was supposed to feel relieved and happy that he didn't bother to kiss her but a part of her heart was burning in pain and irritation. “E-erm…” the Priest stammered, like he too could hardly believe what just happened. “May the dance begin.“ Suddenly, there was a slow and sensual music being played by a band Freya had not noticed before. The Lord—or her now Husband—was nowhere to be found. Weren't they both supposed to begin the dance before the other people joined? Soon, the people started to leave their seats without paying any attention to the forsaken bride on the altar, their face smeared in pity. Two ladies who seemed like her bridesmaid walked over to the altar and helped her climb down. “W-what is happening, please?“ Freya asked as soon as she was down. “Can you both explain what's going on?“ They looked at her with widened eyes and bowed with apologetic looks on their faces like they weren't allowed to speak to her. “Okay, then.“ Freya didn't want to put them in trouble by forcing them to speak. “At least, can you both take me to my hus—” Freya caught sight of a handsome new guy dressed like royalty approaching her. At the sight of him, the two bridesmaids nodded their heads and rushed away. “Pleasure to meet you, my lady,” he said with a smile and raised her right hand to kiss her knuckles. “I'm Lord Ethan.“ Freya studied the man in front of her. Blonde hair, blue eyes, a small but perfectly carved head and posture that screamed of confidence. “L-lord?“ Lord Ethan flushed. “Not much of a title. You can call me Ethan if you want.“ Freya nodded slowly, letting the information sink into her brain. “I—I don't know what to say.“ Lord Ethan smiled, not looking uncomfortable like Freya had expected. “Do you care for a dance, my lady?“ Freya studied him once again. He looked very nice and behaved well just like his face, but she still felt like she should dance with The Lord first. But then she reasoned she might have the opportunity to get answers from him if they were dancing. So she answered in the affirmative. Lord Ethan didn't say another word and led her to the wide dance floor where a more slow waltz song was playing. They started moving slowly to the music, Freya stepping on his feet in less than six seconds since she wasn't experienced. But Lord Ethan didn't mind and lightly complimented on how pretty she was. As they danced, Freya thought of what questions to ask first. She was aware that they were being watched by many people, including some that were dancing. “What's bothering you, my lady?“ asked Lord Ethan when he noticed she was stepping on his legs more frequently. “I—I… What is this place?“ she asked. His brow creased for a moment, and then his expression came back to normal. “I'm guessing you're not from here. How were you picked to be Lord… I mean—to be The Lord's bride?“ Freya clearly saw it in his eyes—the fear that crossed when he almost mentioned her husband's name. “He doesn't have a name?“ “Who?“ asked Lord Ethan like he honestly didn't know who she was talking about. “My husband,” replied Freya, just before he took her waist and raised her to the air. “He does have a name. But it's against our culture to let the bride know before he told her himself.“ “Okay.“ Freya knew he was lying, but didn't want to pry further. “About your other question: you were very right when you guessed that I'm not from here. I actually woke up and found myself in a room with him—and then he left and I came out and somehow found myself on the altar with a wedding dress. Can you tell me what's going on?“ Freya felt the gaze of a different person poking on her skin even before she could finish speaking, and she knew who it was even though there were quite a large number of dancing people. “I don't know how—” Lord Ethan started to say but was suddenly cut off by someone. “Thank you for keeping her company, Ethan. Now, can I have my bride to myself?“ his voice sent a shiver down Freya's spine, and for a second she thought he didn't like Lord Ethan. Lord Ethan immediately backed-off and released Freya's hands. “Of course, my Lord.“ Then he turned to look at Freya's pale face. “It was nice meeting you, my Lady. And thank you for the dance.“ The Lord mentioned something under his breath as Lord Ethan left. Then he suddenly grabbed Freya's hands and said: “Come with me.“ “I'm not going anywhere!“ Freya stood her ground, looking up at his blank face. Something flashed past his eyes as he heard her. “You really have some guts, don't you?“ “Well, I don't care what this is. I don't care why I'm in a wedding gown and why I'm being treated like I chose this. You could kill me if you want. But I'm not—” “Is this about the kiss, my Lady?“ he asked, sounding amused. Freya wanted the ground to open up and swallow her at that moment. Her face went scarlet red and she almost forgot the other reason why she was angry. “Why should I care about the fact that you didn't kiss me? I barely know you and—” “Right.“ That was all he said before he gently grabbed her waist and crushed his lips on hers.The wedding ceremony finally came to an end and it was time for the groom and bride to go to their home. Freya couldn't stop blushing at the back of the caravan that rode them. He was sitting with her at the back and looking out. Freya got the opportunity to study the corners of his face and his biceps, which poked out of the clothes he was wearing and made him look like a Greek god. Her cheeks went hot again as the memory of their kiss played in her mind and she brought up her fingers to touch her lips. “You seem very happy,” he spoke for the first time since the beginning of their journey. His voice brought her to the present, and realisation dawned on her that she still didn't know him or know why and how she was here—and they had just exchanged vows at their wedding. What has she been thinking about ever since? Did this man put a spell on her or what? “I—Why am I here?“ she asked first, since that was the only conversation starter she could think of. There was a momen
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
Freya followed him outside of the castle with an anxious face and scared heart. He looked so normal when he told his father that going out was a good idea. Was he going to do something to her? It was really dark now, probably past 7P.M., and Freya didn't want to see the kingdom for the first time at night—maybe because she feared he'd… “Freya,” he called her, his expression blending with the darkness. He was already on one of the black royal horses. “My Lord,” Freya answered, still avoiding his gaze. “Get on.“ Freya looked around in confusion. They were at the back of the palace where up to twenty horses rested, and there were also some guards around. How come he climbed on one of the horses and asked her to get on herself? She'd read novels before. Wasn't he supposed to help her get up the horse? “I don't know how to,” she replied, sounding puzzled and frustrated. “Have you never rode a horse?“ What? Rode? His intention was for her to ride on another horse dif
“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
When Freya finally left the breakfast table after eating with Draven, she walked back to her maids with her face flushed. Edith was smiling as she got there, but Joan had the usual blank expression on her face. "My Lady," Edith said and bowed to her. Freya had her brows raised. “Why are you smiling?“ Edith looked at Joan as if to check if she'll try to stop her. Then spoke: “I saw the way you handled general Karen. I swear her face was all red and angry when she walked past us.“ Freya was taken aback by that. She wasn't sure she wanted a possible enemy or rival in a battle which she was already certain she was going to lose. Freya shook her head at last and frowned. “I don't care how she feels. Just take me back to the chambers.“ The maids obeyed and silently followed Freya back to the chambers. Freya thought of her progress as they walked. Draven had seemed particularly tamed while they were having breakfast. He hadn't said a word after saying “We'll see about that” to
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
FREYA When I woke up, I first perceived the strong smell of herbal juices in the air. The room was eerily quiet, and as I attempted to rise, a wave of pain shot through my body. I collapsed back unto the bed, only to force myself up again upon realising I wasn't in our chambers. Memories flooded back: the castle tour, the discovery of Lord Ethan's chambers and my banter and fight with Karen. Did I really go unconscious? My eyes travelled around the room and I discovered I was in some sort of hospital bed. There were some trays which held some liquid in small glasses at the far left side of the bed, and at the right side there was an array of fruits. The room was sparse otherwise. I started to get up again, ignoring the sharp pain in my arm. I paused for a moment and looked at the areas where I felt pain, and discovered it was completely healed and only had some tiny scars. Confusion swelled within me. I'm pretty sure my wounds are not supposed to have healed so quickly by now
FREYA My heart raced after Draven told me the reason we were going to the throne-room. I know Karen must already be waiting there, and I could picture the expression on her face as she bowed her head low while waiting for my arrival. I wondered what I was going to say. I wonder what Karen had told them already. But I didn't really care. If things go half as badly as I think it would, I will tell the Royal family exactly what has transpired between our two. I raised my head to look at Draven as we walked. He was still holding my hand, and he hadn't said a single word ever since. I wonder what was going on in his mind. Why hadn't he inquired about the reason for our argument beforehand? Why didn't he ask me directly before we got to the throne-room? “D-draven…” his name blurted-out of my mouth. He looked at me with those mysterious eyes of his. “You can ask me if you want. Don't you want to know the reason?“ I asked, having a feeling that this wouldn't end well. He chu