Tessy_vibez

He was a king born from war. She was a girl fate never meant to survive.
Yet somehow, they were bound.

Freya was supposed to be a sacrifice. Instead, she ended up in the very heart of the enemy's castle — held not by chains, but by the command of a cold, calculating king who claims she has no place in his world. Still, he won’t let her leave.

Sebastian, the newly crowned king with eyes like stormy skies and a temper sharper than any blade, is feared across the kingdom. But Freya is... different. Quiet, clever, and stubborn. She doesn’t bow. She questions. And despite his best efforts to ignore her — he can’t.

But nothing in this kingdom is what it seems.
Not the silence.
Not the strange pull between them.
Not even the curse whispered through bloodlines and shadows.

As tensions rise and buried truths claw their way to the surface, Freya begins to wonder… what if leaving isn't an option anymore?
And Sebastian starts to ask himself… what if she’s the key to everything?

Some bonds are chosen. Others are cursed.
Welcome to the curse that binds them.

The Curse That Binds Us

The castle loomed like a shadow cast in stone. As the gates closed behind them, Freya felt a coldness that had nothing to do with the night air.

The halls were quiet—too quiet. Servants avoided eye contact. The guards stared too long. And the walls… the walls whispered.

She was led to a chamber near the east wing. It was grand: tall ceilings, velvet curtains, a fire that crackled politely in the hearth. But something felt off. Like the room didn't want her there.

Freya stepped inside and sat cautiously on the edge of the bed. Her fingers toyed with the hem of her sleeve, her eyes flicking to the corners of the room as if shadows might leap out and take shape.

Her thoughts kept circling. The witches. The fire. The dagger. Sebastian. Why did his presence make her feel both safe and... like she should run?

She curled beneath the thick blankets, eyes still open, mind still racing.

In the west wing, Prince Sebastian and Princess Elara stood side by side in the king's chambers. They hadn't spoken much since arriving. Neither wanted to.

The king looked worse than before. His eyes were sunken, lips dry and cracking, his crown nowhere in sight.

"You're here," he said hoarsely. "Good."

Sebastian folded his arms. Elara said nothing.

"There's something you both need to know," the king continued, coughing between each breath. "Something... that cannot die with me."

But he didn't tell them everything. Not yet.

He spoke instead of enemies. Of kingdoms that still hated their bloodline. Of lands that would rise the moment the crown passed. Of a time coming soon when power alone would not be enough.

His final words were barely a whisper: "You'll need to remember who your mother was."

Sebastian stared at the body. His jaw clenched.

Elara blinked slowly. "He's really dead."

She glanced at her brother. "Do you feel... anything?"

He shook his head. "Nothing. Do you?"

They stood there for another moment. The silence between them was heavier than grief.

"I miss her," Elara finally whispered.

In the quiet of the east wing, Freya finally closed her eyes.

She didn't hear the whispers from the woods.

Didn't hear the name spoken in the old tongue.

Didn't see the flicker of shadow under the moonlight, staring through the high window with eyes that remembered a queen… and the child she was carrying.

Chapter 15: No Tears Left