She awoke to cold water being splashed on her face. Her vision was dizzy; she turned on all fours, coughing violently.
“You are the one! You are who I have been searching for!” A clear voice cut through her otherwise muffled hearing.
Pollyanna collapsed on her back.
A very handsome fairy with wild, fiery red hair loomed above her.
“Who are you…?” She asked dazedly.
“Stand up!” The fairy demanded, pulling her to her feet by her shoulders.
Pollyanna coughed again as the fairy looked her over intently.
She noticed his hands were twitching uncontrollably.
“Leave us.” The fairy commanded the knights who were keeping watch nearby.
They obeyed. They dragged the remaining priestesses and Holy Women away with them.
Pollyanna turned around and faced the burning convent with empty tears in her eyes.
Arms slowly wrapped around her stomach. She felt a head leaning into her back as she looked upon the fiery wreckage of what used to be her home.
“I’ve been searching for you for so long…” His voice was like sweet honey.
“You’re the king, aren’t you? Fjorn?” Pollyanna replied and couldn’t deny herself the shiver that ran up her spine when the fairy kissed her neck.
“Yes, I am the king. And you… You will be someone who is greater than either a king or a queen.” Fjorn murmured obsessively. “You will be power personified! Isn’t that what you want?”
Pollyanna, who was numbly staring at the black flames consuming the convent, felt a colorful spark burst to life within her.
She slowly turned around.
Her life had started out turbulent and chaotic, she was a prisoner to it—she was powerless to it. After that, it had become gray and lifeless by her own choice.
Now it seemed that this man was giving her a new choice to make. A choice to
be
someone.
She came face-to-face with the handsome fairy. “How will you give me such power?”
He reached up, holding her cheeks between his strong hands. “You already have such power! Can you not see your own worth?”
Pollyanna saw herself within Fjorn’s black eyes. She saw something within them that she had never seen when looking at herself in the mirror; respect and admiration.
“I have such power…?” Pollyanna echoed.
“Of course you do! The goddesses have given you this tall and strong body! They have blessed you with strength! Can’t you feel it
burning
within you?” Fjorn asked jubilantly.
Pollyanna didn’t realize how heavily she had been breathing when a shy, “Yes,” had escaped her lips.
Fjorn drew his face closer to her with a grin that was almost maniacal. “I have something that will make you even stronger—something that will bind the two of us together forever. You have been afraid before, haven’t you? That is why you have locked yourself away in this convent?”
Pollyanna looked down at her feet—past her empty womb. She nodded.
“You will never fear again once you have consumed this potion.” Fjorn held out a small bottle filled with pink liquid.
Pollyanna gazed at the potion as if she were hypnotized. “It will bind us together?” She asked. “I will never be afraid again?”
“It will. Not only that, but you will be made
invincible
. The only way you can die when you drink this potion is if my whole family is killed.” Fjorn explained. “As long as one of my family members lives, you will live, too.”
“Truly…?” Pollyanna asked breathlessly.
“I can tell…” Fjorn murmured as he held her eyes prisoner. “That this is what you have always wanted. You shouldn’t need to think about it. You will be mine, and I will be yours and you will have the power you desire--I can see it! You were
born
to leave a profound mark on Yharos! To be apart of something grand!”
Pollyanna heaved deep breaths. She didn’t have an answer for a moment.
In a moment more, she dropped to her knees. “Yes! Make me your warrior! Make me your slave, or lover, and whatever else you wish me to be! Only, give me power to be what I have always wanted to be! Give me the strength to live my life to the fullest! I have wasted it being afraid!”
“You will have it!” Fjorn handed her the potion. “You will be my sword, and a sword has no reason to fear!”
Pollyanna popped the cork off and downed the potion.
__
“I felt like my shackles had been removed. I could feel power coursing through my veins!” Pollyanna exclaimed as she told the story to Eory. “Nobody in this whole world could ever make me feel as powerful as Fjorn. When he spoke to me, he made me feel like Yharos would crumble if I had never been born. I used to be so afraid. I was afraid of what people thought of me, I was afraid of being hurt, I was afraid of trying new things. Because of Fjorn, I fear nothing now. I can’t tell you what a wonderful feeling it is!”
“But he didn’t tell you that you couldn’t ever sleep with anybody else. He manipulated you…” Eory murmured.
“No. He saved us both time; he knew I would have drunk the potion eventually anyway.” Pollyanna insisted. “By not telling me, he got me to make my decision faster.”
“And how
did
you find out that you couldn’t sleep with anyone else?”
Pollyanna gathered her thoughts, and then told him.
__
Fjorn was comfortably on the throne, and Pollyanna was at his side. Together, the pair made Maribel cower before them as Fjorn promised.
Whenever Fjorn needed Pollyanna to give the humans a good scare, she would oblige. Whenever he wanted her to go collect taxes, she would oblige. Whenever a new statue of the fairy goddesses needed to be erected, Pollyanna oversaw its progress.
Fjorn spent hundreds of gold pieces on Pollyanna. He got her the finest armor, the finest swords, and the finest swordmaster to teach her how to fight.
They had an addictive, fiery, relationship that spurred them both on.
Whenever Fjorn spent too much time without her, he would spend all his time thinking about her. Pollyanna was much the same way. Because his sister, Anjaika, was an old woman, Fjorn had to retire her as his wife as was fairy custom and married a much younger niece instead.
Pollyanna was insanely jealous of them, but Fjorn let her know from the beginning that he could never marry her. Plenty of men showed interest in her, and when Fjorn noticed her returning their flirtatious looks, he was finally forced to take her aside within his bedroom.
“Pollyanna, when you drank that potion, you truly bound yourself to me. If you make love with any other man, you will die.” Fjorn informed her firmly.
Pollyanna was astonished. “What…?”
“We have a special bond…” Fjorn cooed sweetly as he swept her hair aside and then turned her around. “The Antler, Neino, told me of it.”
“Antler? Antlers aren’t real…” Pollyanna replied as Fjorn began untying the ribbons on the back of her dress.
“They are. And this one had seen my future. You see, this potion that I made… It is not a potion that can work for anyone. It can only bind someone to another who is their soulmate.” His hands were becoming hastier and clumsier as he undid the ribbons. “If you were not my soulmate, the potion would have killed you instead of making you invincible. So you see, my darling, you will continue to be mine even after I die. I would never allow another man to touch you, anyway. You are too holy and precious a thing.”
Pollyanna stared blankly at the wall he had pushed her up against. Her whole body had gone cold and numb. Her cheeks were inflamed with embarrassment. “So… You expect me to look after your descendants for the rest of my days? You want me to have no life of my own?”
“You have a wonderful life,” Fjorn said as he slipped her dress off the shoulder. “you have what you always wanted. You’re a warrior and your name is known and feared throughout the land. You will spend the rest of eternity ensuring the safety of the Goddess’ chosen family—my family… Besides, no man you could ever have will compare to me.”
She was smiling, but tears were in her eyes as she replied, “Yes. You’re right.”
__
Pollyanna made no mention of how devastated she felt when Fjorn told her.
She lied and told Eory she was completely content with it. Eory detected no lie in her voice when she said it.
He is too foolish and new to notice
. Pollyanna thought to herself.
“What was in the potion?” Eory asked.
“A dragon scale, a feather from a griffin, a drop of the purest water on Yharos, and a strand of hair from Fjorn’s head.”
“It sounds to me like he abused you the same way Kline did.” Eory retorted.
“No. He gave me my power and purpose back. I was just waiting to die before he came along.” Pollyanna replied. “To live forever… To make a mark on Yharos. That was my finest wish, and he granted it to me.”
What she left out was that whoever made the made potion stipulated the conditions set upon the person who drank it. It was no coincidence that he had bound her to him and only him.
He would allow no one else to touch
his
woman.