Freya's lungs burned.
Branches clawed at her skin as she stumbled through the dark woods, every breath ragged and uneven.
She had no idea where she was going anymore.
Only that she had to keep moving.
Had to keep running.
The cold air bit at her exposed legs through the ruined remains of her dress.
Her body ached.
Her feet throbbed.
Her chest felt like it was on fire.
But still—
she kept going.
She had escaped.
She just had to survive a little longer.
Then—
A sound.
Behind her.
Freya froze instantly.
Her entire body went rigid.
A branch snapped.
Heavy footsteps.
They were close.
Her heart nearly stopped.
No.
They found her.
Panic surged violently through her veins.
Freya quickly darted behind the thick trunk of a nearby tree, pressing herself flat against it.
Her breathing came in frantic, silent gasps.
Her trembling fingers tightened around the stolen knife.
She waited.
Listened.
The footsteps got closer.
Her pulse thundered in her ears.
And then—
A shadow moved past the tree.
Freya lunged.
She jumped out, knife raised—
Only for a hand to catch her wrist instantly.
And moonlight hit crimson eyes.
Freya froze.
Her breath caught violently.
"…Soren?"
He stood there before her, breathing hard, his expression dark and wild—
And the second she realized it was him—
Everything left her at once.
Relief crashed into her so suddenly it hurt.
The knife slipped from her fingers.
Her vision blurred.
All the fear.
All the panic.
All the adrenaline keeping her upright vanished instantly.
And before she even fully realized what was happening—
her body gave out.
She collapsed forward.
And the last thing she felt before darkness overtook her—
was Soren catching her.
***
The moment she went limp in his arms—
real panic hit him.
"Freya."
His heart slammed violently in his chest.
He immediately dropped to one knee, cradling her against him.
Her head lolled weakly against his chest.
Her breathing was there—
Just unconscious.
Relief and fear crashed together so hard it nearly made him dizzy.
His hand trembled slightly as he brushed hair from her face.
"She passed out…" Eugene said carefully behind him.
Soren's jaw clenched.
"From exhaustion," he muttered darkly.
His eyes dragged over her.
The torn dress.
The scratches.
The dirt.
Her bare trembling legs from running through the forest.
And rage simmered all over again.
"She ran herself half to death."
His voice was low.
Then quieter—
almost to himself—
"All because she was afraid no one would reach her in time…"
Something painful flickered across his face.
He looked down at her unconscious form.
Then slowly gathered her tighter against him.
His expression hardened into something protective.
Possessive.
He removed his cloak and wrapped it around her carefully.
Then stood, carrying her effortlessly in both arms.
His gaze lifted toward Eugene.
"Bring the horses."
Then colder—
"And if any of those men survived…"
His crimson eyes darkened.
"Pray I do not see them before dawn."
He mounted with Freya held tightly against him.
One arm wrapped firmly around her limp body.
Never once loosening.
As if afraid the moment he did—
she would disappear again.
And as they rode into the night—
Soren kept his eyes on her the entire way home.
Never looking away.
As though reassuring himself—
again and again—
that she was truly here.
Truly alive.
And back in his arms.
***
Back at the Palace
Freya woke slowly and her body felt heavy.
Soft sheets beneath her.
A familiar scent in the air.
For one disoriented moment, panic surged through her—
Until memory returned.
The forest.
The running.
Soren.
Her eyes fluttered open.
And immediately—
she saw him.
Soren sat beside the bed.
Still dressed in dark clothing, though now changed from the bloodied ones he had worn before.
But one thing was obvious—
he looked exhausted.
His hair slightly disheveled.
Dark shadows beneath his eyes.
His posture rigid in the chair beside her, as though he had barely moved.
The second his crimson eyes met hers—
something raw flashed across his face.
Relief.
"You're awake."
His voice was low.
Freya swallowed.
"…How long was I asleep?"
His jaw tightened.
"Two days."
Freya froze.
"…What?"
"You collapsed from exhaustion," he said flatly. "And did not wake."
Her eyes widened.
Two days?
She had been unconscious for two whole days?
She slowly tried to sit up—
Pain shot through her body.
"Don't."
His hand pressed gently but firmly to her shoulder, easing her back down.
"You're still weak."
Freya stared at him.
Then truly looked at him.
He looked awful.
Like he had not rested properly.
Like he had not left.
"…Have you been here the whole time?" she asked softly.
His expression hardened.
"Yes."
Her breath caught.
That made something flash in his eyes.
He leaned closer.
"When I found you," he said quietly, voice tight, "you collapsed in my arms and stopped responding."
Freya's stomach twisted.
His jaw clenched.
"You would not wake."
His voice dropped lower.
"Do you have any idea what it was like watching two days pass not knowing when—or if—you would open your eyes again?"
Freya stared.
Speechless.
He looked away briefly, exhaling sharply.
Then when he looked back—
something darker entered his gaze.
"You frightened me, Freya."
His voice was quieter now.
But somehow more dangerous.
Then colder—
"And for that…"
He leaned in closer.
"You are going to be punished."
Freya's eyes widened instantly.
"Soren—"
"No."
His tone was sharp.
"You do not get to argue after nearly dying in my arms."
Her breath caught.
His crimson eyes burned into hers.
"You pushed your body until it collapsed." His voice sharpened.
"You ran through the woods half-dead, while I searched for you believing I might already be too late."
Freya swallowed hard.
"And while none of what happened was your fault…" he continued lowly,
"that does not erase what you put me through."
He leaned closer.
So close she could feel his breath.
"There will be consequences for frightening me like that."
Her heart hammered.
He reached up, brushing a strand of hair from her face.
Far too gentle for the words leaving his mouth.
"You are to recover first," he murmured.
His thumb grazed softly across her cheek.
"Rest. Eat. Heal."
Then his lips curved slightly.
Darkly.
"Because when your strength returns…"
His eyes gleamed.
"I fully intend to punish you tremendously."
Freya's breath hitched.
Soren straightened slowly.
As if he hadn't just sent panic spiraling through her.
Then added one final thing before stepping away—
"So prepare yourself, little wife."
His voice dropped lower.
"Because I promise you…"
A dangerous smile touched his lips.
"You will remember the consequences of frightening me for the rest of your life."
And then he walked away—
Leaving Freya frozen in bed.
Heart racing.
Wondering what in the world that could possibly mean.
***
The Days After Recovery, Freya quickly learned, was impossible when one lived under the constant threat of unknown punishment.
The first day passed in anxious silence.
Clara brought her food.
Medicine.
Fresh bandages for the scratches on her legs.
But every time Freya asked the same question—
"Did he say anything else?"
Clara would only smile nervously.
"No, my lady."
That was somehow worse.
The second day was unbearable.
Because Soren visited.
And acted completely normal.
He sat beside her while she ate.
Asked how she was feeling.
Read through paperwork near the fireplace while she rested.
Spoke calmly.
As though he had never threatened her at all.
And somehow—
that made it ten times more terrifying.
Freya finally snapped that evening.
"You're doing this on purpose."
Soren glanced up from the papers in his lap.
"Hm?"
She pointed accusingly.
"You keep acting normal!"
He blinked slowly.
"I am normal."
"No, you're not!" she hissed.
"You're plotting something!"
His lips twitched.
And Freya's stomach dropped.
Because that smile—
that smug, amused smile—
meant yes.
Yes, he absolutely was.
"You said you were going to punish me," she whispered accusingly.
He leaned back in his chair lazily.
"And I meant it."
Freya glared.
"Then just do it already!"
His brows lifted.
A dangerous smile spread slowly across his face.
"My, my…" he murmured. "So eager."
Her face turned bright red.
"That is not what I meant!"
His chuckle was low.
Far too entertained.
Freya crossed her arms angrily.
"You're tormenting me!"
"Yes," he agreed immediately.
She froze.
His smile widened.
"Because watching you panic while imagining all the possibilities is amusing me greatly."
"You're horrible!"
"And yet you married me."
"I didn't have a choice!"
He laughed outright at that.
Freya wanted to scream.
Instead she threw a pillow at him.
He caught it effortlessly.
Still smiling.
Then set it aside and stood up.
Freya immediately tensed.
Because the look in his eyes changed.
Less playful now.
He approached slowly.
Freya's heartbeat quickened.
He stopped at her bedside.
Then leaned down close.
His lips near her ear.
"You are nearly healed," he whispered.
Her breath caught.
"Another day, perhaps two…"
He let the words linger.
Then lower—
"And then I will collect what I'm owed."
Freya's stomach flipped violently.
"Soren—"
He straightened.
Smiling darkly.
"And before you ask again…" he murmured, "no, I will not tell you what your punishment is."
She stared.
Horrified.
He chuckled softly.
"You'll know when it happens."
Then he turned and walked toward the door.
Pausing only once before leaving.
"Oh…"
He glanced toward Clara.
"Make sure she wears something comfortable tomorrow night."
Freya's stomach dropped.
Then his crimson eyes slid back toward her, gleaming wickedly.
"And easy to take off."
Silence.
Absolute silence.
Freya's entire face went scarlet.
"SOREN!"
His laugh echoed through the room as he stepped out the door.
Leaving Freya frozen in place.
Completely horrified.
Clara stood stiff as a board beside the bed, equally red-faced.
Freya slowly turned toward her maid.
"…Clara."
"Yes, my lady?"
"What does he mean by that?!"
Clara looked like she wanted the floor to swallow her whole.
"I—I don't know—!"
Freya grabbed her pillow and screamed into it.
"Oh my gods…"
She was doomed.
Absolutely doomed.