After what felt like an eternity, our procession of carriages finally reached the gates of the castle. Its imposing structure lood before us, but it was not the majestic grandeur I had imagined for an Elven castle. Instead, it exuded an air of ostentation, designed not to inspire awe but to flaunt wealth and power. The sa could be said for the city itself in fact.
As we arrived, I dismounted from my horse. I turned to help the boy from descending. His small fra trembled as he descended, his wide eyes darting around the scene with fear. "What's your na?" I asked gently, crouching to his level so he could see my face clearly. "Ron..." He mumbled. Tears welled in his eyes, and his small hands clenched tightly at his sides.
He was only six years old. His fear was etched into every line of his face.
That wasn't the expression a child should make.
"Where are your parents?" I asked hesitantly, though a sinking feeling told the answer before he spoke.
The question was a mistake. His small body began to shake, and tears stread down his face as he rubbed at his eyes.
"T-They killed my father...they took my mother away."
I didn't need to ask to know what had likely beco of his mother. There was a low probability of seeing her again and good health.
I wanted to ask him more, to glean any information that might lead to his mother in the hope of sending him back to her but I knew pressing him further would only deepen his trauma.
"Stay still, Ron," I said softly, reaching for the collar encircling his neck.
Enslaving people was abhorrent enough, but to subject a child to such a fate? They were really
scum.
As my fingers brushed the collar, white sand began to swirl at my fingertips. In monts, the collar disintegrated into nothingness, vanishing as if it had never existed. But the red, raw mark it left behind remained. I couldn't do anything against that unfortunately.
"You removed the collar?" Freya's voice drew my attention. She had descended from her carriage and now stood nearby, her gaze fixed on the boy.
"I did," I replied curtly. "It's not as if he can run away from ."
Freya's lips curved into a small smile, her golden eyes scanning . "There's no need to hide your emotions. I can sense your hate for enslavent. Perhaps you took this child simply to save him?"
I didn't respond, but I didn't deny her words either. Let her draw her own conclusions. What caught , however, was her deanor. Unlike the other High Elves, Freya didn't exude the sa haughty arrogance. She lacked the overt racism that seed to define her peers. It was...unexpected. I had steeled myself for soone worse than Alvara, yet Freya's calm, almost empathetic presence caught off guard.
anwhile, the other High Elves made no attempt to hide their disdain. Their sharp glares bore into , their expressions twisted with anger and disbelief. To them, my revulsion was a direct insult to their culture.
They must have thought I was peculiar perhaps even suspicious. Despite my appearance as a High Elf, I clearly didn't fit their expectations.
As we crossed into the grandiose expanse of the castle grounds, Ron clung tightly to my side, his small hand gripping my sleeve like it was his only lifeline. His wide eyes darted around nervously, trying to take in the imposing sights without breaking into tears again.
"Big broth-"
Before he could finish, I swiftly pressed a hand over his mouth, crouching slightly to et his gaze. "Call Loki from now on," I said, with a serious face. His frightened nod was enough.
At this point, revealing my true identity as a man would spell disaster. It wasn't just a matter of reputation—it could derail everything. For now, blending in as best as possible was my safest course of action.
The castle itself was an imposing structure of pale marble, adorned with carvings and shimring runes that seed to glow faintly in the waning light. The grandeur of it all would've been awe-inspiring if I didn't see through the ostentatious facade. Yet, despite its grandeur, my arrival here-sothing that should have been impossible under normal circumstances-felt almost too easy.
The guards stationed around the periter stiffened as we approached. Freya's presence alone was enough to keep them in line, though a few couldn't mask their distrust, their suspicious glares boring into . I considered the idea of threatening her to secure my position, but I dismissed it just as quickly. Freya wasn't soone to be underestimated. As a twin soul of a Goddess, any misstep with her could prove fatal. Carefulness was key.
Inside, the main hall unfolded in all its extravagance. Elven maids stood in perfect formation, bowing deeply as Freya entered. All of them had sothing like a golden rune engraved on their forehead but I didn't pay it any mind.
"Welco back, Your Highness," they greeted in unison.
Freya swept her gaze over them, and then gestured toward . "Prepare a fitting guest room near my suite for her."
The maids turned to look at , their expressions shifting from polite neutrality to wide- eyed astonishnt.
"Beautiful..." One of them murmured under her breath.
A grimace appeared on my face but I quickly suppressed it.
"As for the boy," Freya continued and looked at . "Shall I arrange a separate room for
him?"
"No need," I shook my head. "He'll stay with ."
Freya raised an eyebrow but didn't argue. "Suit yourself. Join once you're ready," she said before turning on her heel, her two maids trailing behind her.
One of the remaining maids stepped forward toward "This way, Milady," she said, motioning for to follow.
As I was led up the grand staircase, I made a point of studying my surroundings. Every detail mattered the layout of corridors, the placent of doors, the subtle markings on the walls. If my mother was being held here, it wouldn't be in one of these luxurious upper rooms. Logic dictated that she'd be in the dungeons or so other concealed area below ground.
When we arrived at the room assigned to , the maid stepped inside ahead of and imdiately began preparing a bath. The space was opulent, with walls adorned in silken tapestries. But my focus wasn't on the decor. I watched the maid as she worked, her neutral expression giving nothing away.
Finally, she turned to , gesturing toward the steaming bath she'd prepared. "Your bath is ready, Milady."
"I'll manage on my own," I said, stepping forward to dismiss her.
She inclined her head. "As you wish, Milady." From a nearby chest, she retrieved a container and held it out to . "Here are clothes prepared for you."
I opened the container, only to find garnts befitting an Elven noblewoman-flowing silks and embroidered dresses. Lovely, no doubt, but entirely impractical. I frowned, holding up a particularly frilly piece.
"I'll need n's clothes," I said, doing my best to sound casual. "I'd have a hard ti protecting the Princess in a skirt."
The maid blinked, her eyes widening slightly as understanding dawned. "Indeed. My apologies, Milady. I'll fetch appropriate attire imdiately."
As she hurried off, I exhaled, relieved to have avoided that particular embarrassnt.
I quickly took a bath, asking Ron to keep watch outside for , just in case so maids decided to intrude. Once I was done, I dressed in the elven n's clothing I had chosen earlier. I made sure to pick sothing that wasn't too tight-a woman as flat as wouldn't be believable, and it would only draw unnecessary attention. Instead, I opted for a slightly looser outfit, layering it carefully to hide my chest and maintain the illusion.
Standing in front of the mirror, I took a mont to examine my reflection. Despite my best efforts, I still looked undeniably feminine, though the clothes gave a tomboyish edge. Satisfied enough, I tucked Bryelle's pendant beneath my layers and turned to Ron, who was
sitting on the bed.
"Feel free to take a shower and rest here while I'm gone. I'll ask a maid to bring you so
food," I said.
"When will you be back?" Ron asked, scared. He clearly didn't like being surrounded by High Elves with being the only exception.
"I'm just going to speak to the Princess. Don't worry," I replied, offering him a calm smile
before leaving the room.
Once outside, I called for a maid to guide to Princess Freya. She inford that the Princess was in the dining hall, and I followed her there. As I entered, I couldn't help but pause, slightly taken aback by Freya's appearance. She had clearly bathed as well, her long hair shining with a silky sheen. She was dressed in more casual attire, though for a royal, 'casual' still ant an exquisite gown. The absence of her earlier formal weight made her seem more approachable yet no less stunning.
For a mont, I was reminded of just how beautiful she was. But fortunately, having spent so much ti around Cleenah, I had built up an immunity to overwhelming beauty-or so I liked to think.
"Oh, you're here. I've been waiting for you, Loki," Freya greeted with a smile before her golden eyes scanned my outfit. "These clothes suit you. You're quite tall for a woman, which
makes them work even better, I suppose."
"Thank you," I replied simply.
Freya tilted her head slightly, her expression playful. "And what about , Loki? Shouldn't
you complint ? You are my guard, after all. Have you already forgotten your duties?"
I blinked, caught off guard by her question, but quickly recovered. "I didn't think there was any need to praise you, Your Highness. You are already perfect."
"Oh-"Freya's eyes narrowed slightly, a sly smile curving her lips.
Sothing about her deanor made uneasy. I decided to take my seat across from her without further comnt. As the maids began serving our al, I couldn't shake the sensation of Freya's gaze fixed on . Anyone else might have fainted from the sheer pressure of being observed so intently by the High Elf Princess, but for , it was far from
pleasant.
Did she poison the food? No, that didn't make sense. Why would she go through the trouble of
asking to beco her guard only to kill ? Maybe I was just overthinking...
"Loki," she finally called out to .
"Yes, Your Highness?" I replied, eting her gaze.
Freya's sweet smile widened, as she rested her hand on her cheek.
"What do you think about becoming my slave?"
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