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

They simply stood in a silent circle, staring at the scorched ground where the flames had once danced around Freya. The pyre had been meant to ignite something—old magic, a buried truth, perhaps even death. But instead, it had been interrupted.

"She wasn't ready," one of them said, her voice sharp beneath her hood.

"She was too strong," another corrected. "And he was there. The cursed one."

The tallest among them stepped forward and knelt at the edge of the burnt wood, pressing two fingers into the ashes. Her eyes flashed a sickly yellow as she whispered words in a forgotten tongue.

"She is marked," she said. "And the mark is waking."

Around her, the others exchanged uneasy glances. The old prophecy had spoken of a girl with no ties, no past, and no true place in this world. A girl with golden skin and frost in her eyes. A girl who would carry the power of both ruin and rebirth.

"She must not reach the castle again," the lead witch said, rising to her full height. "Or the king will speak."

And if the king speaks… everything will fall apart.

Meanwhile, far from the forest, in the heart of the stone castle, the king was dying.

He lay in his private chamber beneath layers of silk and shadow. His once-strong frame now seemed swallowed by the bed, his breath a whisper of what it used to be. Servants crept quietly through the halls. No one said it aloud, but everyone knew.

The king wouldn't last much longer.

"Summon them," he rasped, his voice barely reaching the maid at his side. "My children. Elara. Sebastian."

The maid bowed quickly and hurried out.

Alone now, the king turned his head toward the stained-glass window. The sunset threw hues of crimson and violet across the stone walls—colors that reminded him of war, of magic, of everything he had tried to bury.

"They deserve to know," he whispered to the air. "Before it finds them first."

Back in the woods, Freya and Sebastian trudged forward in silence, every footstep heavier than the last. The castle was still hours away, and the moon offered little comfort.

She could feel him beside her—tall, brooding, tense—but neither of them spoke. Not since the clearing. Not since the dagger. Not since whatever it was that almost happened between them.

He hadn't looked at her since they left. He was too quiet. Too guarded.

"What are you?" she asked suddenly, breaking the silence.

Sebastian didn't stop walking. "That's a funny question, coming from you."

"I'm not the one whose eyes go black when I'm angry."

He shot her a look, one that wasn't annoyed—but wasn't fond either. "And I'm not the one witches tried to sacrifice to a fire altar."

Tension crackled between them like electricity in the air before a storm.

"You didn't answer the question," she said coldly.

"And I don't have to," he replied. "Just know this—whatever I am, it's the only reason you're alive right now."

Freya glared at him, but said nothing.

They reached a fork in the woods, and without waiting for her, Sebastian turned left.

Freya paused. Something about the path ahead made her chest feel tight. Like it was waiting for her.

He stopped. She wasn't even sure why she said his name. Maybe it was the cold. Maybe it was the way the trees seemed to be watching. Maybe it was because—for once—she didn't want to be alone.

He didn't turn around, but she heard his answer, low and unreadable:

"I'm not going to let them take you again."

Freya stared at his back. He didn't say it like a promise. He said it like a warning.

Like something inside him was just as dangerous as whatever was chasing her.

Chapter 14: What the Fire Didn’t Burn