Chapter 4 – Bound by Frost and Fire

It had been a full week since the summoning ceremony.

A week since Skadi had barreled into her life with overwhelming strength, affection, and an utter lack of personal boundaries.

And in those seven days, Isolde had come to a single, undeniable conclusion.

Skadi refused to leave her side.

Not just in the sense of loyalty or duty. No.

Skadi clung to her.

Every. Single. Day.

If Isolde turned a corner? Skadi was there.

If she entered a room? Skadi followed.

If she so much as shifted in her sleep? Skadi would immediately wrap around her like a living wolf-pelt.

There was no escape.

It was a level of devotion, obsession, and sheer possessiveness that went beyond anything she had expected from a spirit beast—especially one of Skadi's power.

Isolde, heir to House Valtoria, had summoned a spirit of legendary status.

And yet…

Her so-called Empress-Class Fenrir was currently—

"Skadi."

Isolde sighed, rubbing her temples as she sat at her study desk, quill in hand. A pile of books lay open before her, detailing advanced spirit contracts and the history of high-tier summons. She had spent hours pouring over them, trying to understand the depth of her bond with Skadi.

But studying was difficult when a pair of piercing blue eyes stared at her unblinkingly.

Skadi sat on the floor beside her chair, legs crossed, tail flicking idly behind her.

Watching.

Waiting.

Like a predator ready to pounce.

"…You don't have to stare at me like that," Isolde muttered, shifting under the intensity of Skadi's gaze.

"I like looking at you."

The answer was so blunt, so direct, that Isolde nearly choked on air.

She exhaled, forcing herself to remain composed. This was fine. She could handle this.

"…Fine. But do you have to be so close?"

Skadi blinked slowly. "Yes."

Isolde said nothing.

Skadi did not move.

And thus, the staring continued.

It had started with small things.

Skadi would sit close—fine. Follow her—annoying, but manageable.

Then came the sleeping problem.

On the third night, after struggling to keep her distance, Isolde had finally snuck into her bed, pulling the covers tight around her in the hopes that she could finally get some rest.

She had just begun to drift off when something warm and solid pressed against her back.

"…Skadi."

A pleased hum rumbled behind her.

"What are you doing in my bed?"

Skadi let out a lazy sigh, arms slipping around Isolde's waist as she pulled her closer.

"Sleeping."

"…I gathered that."

"Then why ask?"

Isolde bit back a groan.

"Spirits don't need sleep."

"I know."

A beat of silence.

"…Then why are you sleeping?"

A chuckle, soft and far too pleased.

"Because you are."

Isolde clenched her jaw.

This was fine.

She would ignore it.

She would set boundaries.

She would regain control.

By the fifth day, it had become clear that avoiding Skadi was impossible.

After multiple attempts to sneak off, Isolde had devised a plan—a single afternoon of solitude.

She had carefully scheduled a training session at the dueling grounds, hoping that Skadi would find something else to do.

She should have known better.

Because the moment she stepped into the training ring, Skadi was already there.

Waiting.

And instead of watching from the sidelines, she stood right beside her, arms crossed, glaring at Isolde's opponent.

"You don't need to fight them," Skadi muttered. "You're strong enough."

Isolde pinched the bridge of her nose.

"That's not the point. It's for practice."

"You have me. What more do you need to practice for?"

"Skadi—"

"I'll fight them for you."

The opponent—a seasoned knight-in-training—paled.

"Absolutely not," Isolde snapped. "Stand down."

Skadi grumbled but relented—barely.

But the moment Isolde took a hit, even a light one—

Skadi was in the ring before anyone could react.

The poor knight was nearly frozen solid from the sheer intensity of Skadi's glare alone.

After that, Isolde was forced to practice in private.

By the time a full week had passed, Isolde had stopped resisting.

There was no winning against Skadi's sheer stubbornness.

She still followed her everywhere.

Still clung to her at night.

Still stared at her like she was the center of her world.

It should have been suffocating.

It should have been frustrating.

But instead…

It was warm.

Somehow, despite her unruly nature, despite her obsessiveness, despite being the most untamed, feral thing Isolde had ever encountered…

Skadi made her feel something new.

Safe.

Cherished.

For the first time in her life, Isolde wasn't alone.

And maybe… just maybe…

She didn't mind it as much as she thought she would.

Skadi was not pleased.

She stalked through the outer courtyard of House Valtoria's grand estate, her tail flicking in irritation, her claws faintly scratching the stone pathways beneath her bare feet. The cool morning air did nothing to soothe her mood, nor did the expanse of polished marble, golden-trimmed archways, and meticulously kept gardens.

None of it mattered.

Because she was not with Isolde.

Her summoner had forcibly sent her away.

Not in a cruel way, no—but with that same commanding presence Isolde always carried, the one that made Skadi's instincts purr despite her annoyance.

"Go outside for a while. I have lessons to focus on," she had said, her delicate fingers flipping through one of her thick, leather-bound tomes.

Skadi had protested. Naturally.

She had told Isolde that her place was beside her.

Isolde had only sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose in that way she did when she was exasperated with Skadi's constant proximity. "You cannot sit through my studies and do nothing for hours. Go... hunt something if you must. I will come find you later."

The last part had softened the blow only slightly.

And so, here she was, walking in restless circles like a wolf without a den, her muscles itching for something to do.

Her blue eyes—sharp, predatory—flicked around the courtyard. Knights sparred in one of the distant training yards, a few noblemen strolled past in their pristine robes, and the estate servants carried about their duties.

Nothing interesting.

Nothing that could compare to being at Isolde's side.

A low growl rumbled in her throat, ice curling at the tips of her fingers.

"This is stupid."

She should be inside.

She should be listening to Isolde's voice, watching her expressions shift in that composed yet endlessly fascinating way.

She should be wrapped around her, soaking in her warmth, making sure no one could ever take her away—

"I don't like you."

Skadi stopped walking.

She turned, slowly, her ears twitching at the blunt, scorn-filled voice.

A knight stood a few feet away from her, arms crossed over his armored chest. He was tall for a human, built like a soldier with years of training—broad shoulders, short-cut dark hair, and a sharp-lined face twisted into a scowl.

Skadi did not recognize his name. She had barely acknowledged him in the past week.

But now, as he stood before her, staring her down with barely concealed contempt—

She suddenly felt very interested.

"…Say that again," Skadi said, tilting her head slightly, a grin curling at the edges of her lips.

The knight's frown deepened. "I said, I don't like you."

Her tail swayed, amused. "You don't say."

He took a step forward, clearly emboldened by her lack of aggression. "You've been acting disgracefully for a contracted spirit. Spirits of your class are supposed to be dignified, composed—not clinging to Lady Isolde like some lovesick mutt."

Ah.

So that was what this was about.

Skadi exhaled through her nose, rolling her shoulders. "And?"

The knight stiffened. "And you need to stop."

A chuckle escaped her lips—low and dangerous. "Or what?"

His scowl deepened. "Or I will personally ensure that Lady Isolde sees reason and has you properly disciplined."

For a moment, Skadi simply stared at him.

Then, in a blink, she moved.

She closed the distance faster than he could react, her foot slamming against his chest like a battering ram.

The knight soared backward, his armored body crashing into the stone path.

Before he could even groan, Skadi was on him.

She pressed a foot against his chest, pinning him down, her weight crushing.

His breath hitched as her claws lightly traced the metal of his armor, cold as death.

"Disciplined?" Skadi murmured, leaning down, her wild silver hair cascading over her shoulders. "You're going to discipline me?"

His face twisted, a mixture of rage and humiliation. "You—You beast—!"

Ice crackled at her fingertips.

"I'm not a beast." Her voice was soft, deceptively calm, but her slit pupils gleamed with unhinged amusement. "I'm Skadi."

She pressed down harder, just enough to make the metal creak under the pressure.

The knight's breath came out in short, ragged gasps.

"W-What do you—"

"You don't like me?" she continued, as if considering. "That's fine. But you think you have authority over me? You?" She let out a laugh, dark and breathy.

He struggled beneath her, trying to push her off, but it was pathetic. Weak.

"I don't take orders from you," she said, voice lilting with something dangerously playful. "I don't even take orders from the Valtoria family."

Her fingers lightly traced his throat, cold seeping into his skin.

"I take orders from Isolde."

She watched his face twist in frustration. He wanted to argue, to spit out something cruel, but he couldn't.

Because the truth was right in front of him.

She could kill him in an instant.

And there was nothing he could do about it.

For a moment, silence stretched between them, broken only by the faint, distant sounds of the courtyard.

Then—

A new presence.

One that made Skadi's ears flick upward, made her tail still.

A voice.

Sharp. Controlled.

"…Skadi."

She turned her head, a lazy grin curling on her lips.

Isolde stood at the edge of the courtyard, her arms crossed, her sapphire eyes fixed on her.

And she did not look pleased.

Skadi blinked.

Then—without hesitation—she smiled.

Isolde's breath was steady, but her hands clenched at her sides as she took in the scene before her.

The morning light gleamed off the cracked stone, jagged lines spiderwebbing from the point of impact where the knight had landed. The scent of ice and steel lingered in the air, thick and sharp.

And at the center of it all—

Skadi.

She stood over the fallen knight, her bare foot pressing into his chest, claws faintly extended. Her wild silver hair cascaded over her shoulders, catching in the light like woven moonlight. Her eyes—those predatory, glacial blue eyes—locked onto Isolde's the moment she spoke.

And then—

She smiled.

A slow, satisfied, utterly unrepentant smile.

Isolde's stomach tightened.

There was no remorse in Skadi's posture. No hesitation. No fear.

She had taken down a fully armored knight as easily as breathing.

No incantations. No preparation.

Just raw power.

And that was the moment it truly sank in—

Skadi wasn't just a spirit.

She wasn't just a contracted beast bound to Isolde's will.

She was an Empress-Class Fenrir.

A being of legendary status.

A spirit so powerful that entire kingdoms could rise and fall on the whims of her existence.

And yet—

She clung to Isolde like an obsessed wolf pup.

That contrast… that paradox…

It was terrifying.

And it was bewitching.

"…Skadi." Isolde's voice was steady, but sharper than usual.

Skadi tilted her head, her tail flicking once before she finally—reluctantly—lifted her foot from the knight's chest.

The man coughed, gasping for air, clutching his ribs as he struggled to push himself up.

Isolde stepped forward, her boots clicking softly against the stone. She didn't look at the knight.

Her focus was entirely on Skadi.

"What did you do?"

Skadi's grin didn't fade. If anything, she looked pleased.

"He insulted me," she said simply, rolling her shoulders. "Tried to tell me what to do."

Isolde's jaw tensed. "And?"

A low, rumbling chuckle. "And I showed him why that was a mistake."

There was no malice in her tone. No burning fury or wounded pride.

Just fact.

As if Skadi had simply corrected an imbalance in the world.

As if this was the natural order of things.

Isolde inhaled through her nose, forcing herself to remain calm.

She was used to spirits being fiercely loyal to their summoners. It was in their nature, especially for those of higher tiers.

But Skadi was different.

Her obsession ran deeper.

It wasn't just loyalty. It wasn't just duty.

It was possession.

And Isolde knew, in that moment, that Skadi would never allow anyone to stand between them.

No matter who they were.

No matter what it took.

Isolde exhaled slowly. "Stand down, Skadi."

Skadi blinked at her, as if she didn't quite understand the request.

Then, with a sigh that was far too dramatic, she stretched her arms above her head and took a lazy step back.

"…Fine."

The knight coughed again, wincing as he struggled to get to his feet. His face was a mixture of anger, humiliation, and barely concealed fear.

"Lady Isolde," he began, his voice strained but still clinging to whatever dignity he had left. "This—this beast—"

Skadi snarled.

Not a playful, teasing sound.

Not the usual hum of amusement she always had.

A low, guttural, primal growl that sent an icy chill through the air.

The knight flinched.

Skadi noticed.

And she grinned.

Isolde stepped between them before it escalated further.

"That's enough," she said sharply, eyes flicking between them.

The knight opened his mouth again, clearly about to protest, but Isolde cut him off.

"Leave. Now."

He stiffened, his lips pressing into a thin line.

"…Understood, my lady."

Without another word, he bowed stiffly and turned, walking away with slow, measured steps—never once turning his back on Skadi.

When he was finally gone, silence settled between them.

Isolde turned to Skadi.

The wolf spirit looked entirely unbothered.

If anything, she seemed more relaxed than before, stretching her arms behind her head, looking at Isolde with open adoration.

Isolde sighed, rubbing her temple. "You can't just attack people."

Skadi blinked. "I didn't kill him."

"That's not the point."

"Should I have?"

"No!"

Skadi pouted slightly, tail flicking. "Then what's the problem?"

Isolde gave her a look.

The kind that made most knights and noblemen wilt on the spot.

But Skadi wasn't most people.

If anything, she seemed to like it.

Her ears twitched, her pupils dilating slightly as she grinned.

"…You're cute when you're mad."

Isolde groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose.

She was not dealing with this right now.

She turned on her heel, ready to head back inside—only for Skadi to immediately fall into step beside her, as if nothing had happened.

"Are you mad at me?" Skadi asked, tilting her head.

Isolde exhaled slowly. "I don't know what I am."

A low hum. Then, softly—

"…Are you afraid of me?"

Isolde paused.

She turned to look at Skadi.

At her wild silver hair, her sharp claws, her striking blue eyes—so untamed, so undeniably powerful.

At the Empress-Class Fenrir who had chosen her.

Who had devoted herself to her, in a way no other spirit ever had.

The answer came to her then, clear and steady.

"No," Isolde murmured. "I'm not afraid of you."

Skadi stared at her for a long moment.

Then, slowly, deliberately, she smiled.

And this time, it wasn't sharp.

It wasn't feral or teasing.

It was genuine.

Soft.

Almost tender.

"…Good," she said.

And for the first time since the summoning, Isolde realized—

Skadi wasn't just obsessed with her.

She trusted her.

And that trust, no matter how wild or possessive, was something deeper than a mere contract.

It was something more.