Updated Nov 6, 2025 • ~12 min read
“So,” Princess Lyssa said brightly, linking her arm through Freya’s, “let’s talk about dragons.”
It was the morning after the compromise, and Freya had barely finished breakfast before Lyssa had appeared at her door with a determined expression and an agenda. Apparently “genuinely trying to understand dragon ways” meant being dragged through the palace by an enthusiastic dragon princess who had appointed herself as cultural ambassador.
“I thought we were talking about dragons,” Freya said as Lyssa pulled her down a corridor lined with tapestries showing dragon history.
“We will be. But first—” Lyssa stopped in front of a massive tapestry showing two dragons intertwined, glowing with silver light. “—you need to understand what the fated mate bond actually means to us.”
Freya studied the image. The dragons looked almost reverent, their connection visible in the magic swirling between them. “Your mother explained some of it. Ancient magic, recognizes compatible souls, must be willing on both sides.”
“That’s the mechanics. I’m talking about the meaning.” Lyssa’s expression grew serious in a way Freya hadn’t seen before. “For dragons, the fated bond is everything. It’s not just about love or attraction. It’s about finding the one person in all the realms who completes you. Who balances your fire with their steadiness, your rage with their calm, your solitude with their presence.”
“That sounds like a lot of pressure.”
“It is. But it’s also a gift.” Lyssa moved to the next tapestry—this one showing a massive celebration, dragons and fae dancing together. “When a dragon finds their fated mate, the entire court celebrates. Because mate bonds are rare, Freya. So rare. Most dragons go their entire lives without finding their destined match.”
“How rare?”
“One in a hundred, maybe less. Most dragons eventually choose a life partner—someone they love and commit to—but it’s not the same. The fated bond is magic recognizing two souls that were literally made for each other.” Lyssa looked at her. “My brother waited one hundred and twenty-seven years for you. That’s not unusual for a fated bond. Some dragons wait centuries. Some never find their mate at all.”
Freya’s chest tightened. “What happens if they don’t? Find their mate?”
“They live. Have relationships, find happiness in other ways. But there’s always something missing. A restlessness. A sense that part of them is wandering the world, just out of reach.” Lyssa’s voice softened. “My parents are fated mates. I grew up watching their bond, seeing how complete they are together. And I’ve seen dragons without mates—functional, but never quite whole.”
They walked in silence for a moment, Freya processing. She’d known the bond was important to dragons. She hadn’t understood it was this significant. This rare. This precious.
“Lysander told me he’d been losing hope,” she said quietly. “Before he scented me.”
“He was.” Lyssa led her to a window overlooking the training grounds. “Watching your fated mate bond activate is like watching someone come alive. The change in him after he scented you—it was instant. Suddenly he had purpose, direction, hope. Everything that had felt impossible became urgent.”
“So when he saw me at my wedding—”
“His dragon went completely feral. You have to understand, Freya—dragon instincts are powerful. When we recognize our mate, we claim them. It’s not rational, it’s not gentle, it’s absolute.” Lyssa turned to face her. “I’m not excusing what he did. The kidnapping was dramatic and problematic. But from a dragon’s perspective? He saw his fated mate—the person he’d waited over a century for—about to be bound to someone else. Forever. His dragon wouldn’t let him walk away.”
“Even if it meant starting a war?”
“Especially then. Dragons are possessive, Freya. When it comes to our mates, we’re not logical. We’re desperate and fierce and willing to burn the world down to keep what’s ours.” She smiled slightly. “It’s very inconvenient for diplomacy.”
Freya looked out at the training grounds, watching dragons in human form sparring with swords and magic. “Your mother said dragons mate for life. That you’re absolutely loyal.”
“We are. Once bonded, a dragon never strays. Never looks at another the way they look at their mate. It’s physically impossible—the bond creates a connection so deep that everyone else becomes… irrelevant.” Lyssa leaned against the window frame. “My father could have any woman in the realm. He’s the Dragon King, powerful and attractive. But he only has eyes for my mother. Has for three hundred years. Will for the rest of their lives.”
“That’s…” Freya struggled for words. “Intense.”
“That’s what you’re being offered. Absolute loyalty. Complete devotion. A partner who will never hurt you, never betray you, never look at you with anything less than total adoration.” Lyssa’s voice dropped. “I know it sounds overwhelming. But compared to what you were facing with Viktor—a man who would have broken you—doesn’t absolute loyalty sound better?”
It did. That was the problem. The bond offered everything she’d ever wanted—safety, devotion, being valued—but with a cost she didn’t fully understand yet.
“What happens if I reject the bond?” Freya asked. “Your mother mentioned Lysander would lose his dragon, but what does that actually mean?”
Lyssa’s expression grew somber. “Exactly what it sounds like. The dragon is a fundamental part of who we are. Losing it is like losing your soul.” She took a breath. “If you reject him, the bond will start to deteriorate. Within a few weeks, he’ll lose the ability to shift. Within a few months, his dragon magic will fade completely. Within a year, the dragon will be gone entirely.”
“And then?”
“Then he’ll be human. Mortal. Still himself in personality, but without the core of what makes him a dragon.” Lyssa’s voice was barely above a whisper. “He’d live maybe another decade. But without his dragon, without his mate, he’d be hollow. A shadow of himself. Most dragons in that position don’t last even that long. The grief destroys them.”
Horror crawled up Freya’s spine. “He’d die. Because I said no.”
“Eventually, yes.” Lyssa met her eyes. “I’m not telling you this to manipulate you. You asked for honesty. This is the truth. If you reject the bond, my brother will fade and die. Slowly. Painfully. Watching himself lose everything that matters.”
Freya gripped the window frame, feeling sick. “That’s not fair. That’s not a choice at all.”
“The bond isn’t fair. But Freya—” Lyssa’s hand covered hers. “—it’s also not cruel. The bond recognized you for a reason. You’re compatible in ways you don’t understand yet. The magic doesn’t make mistakes. If you give this a real chance, if you let yourself feel what’s between you without fear, I think you’ll find that accepting the bond isn’t a sacrifice. It’s a gift.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“Because I see how he looks at you. And more importantly, I see how you look at him when you think no one’s watching.” Lyssa’s smile was knowing. “The bond isn’t forcing you to love him, Freya. It’s just removing the barriers that would have kept you from finding each other naturally. What you feel is real. The question is whether you’re brave enough to explore it.”
Movement in the training grounds caught Freya’s attention. A figure emerged from the practice hall, and her breath caught.
Lysander.
Shirtless.
He moved to the center of the sparring ring, and gods, Freya had known he was attractive in an objective way—silver eyes, strong features, that predatory grace. But seeing him like this, muscles flexing as he lifted a practice sword, those ancient runes on his arms glowing faintly with magic, sweat making his skin gleam in the sunlight—
She couldn’t look away.
“He trains every morning,” Lyssa said casually, though her tone suggested she knew exactly what effect this was having. “Has for decades. Dragons need to stay in fighting form. You never know when you’ll need to defend your hoard.”
Lysander moved through sword forms with lethal precision. Every strike was controlled power, every movement deliberate. He was beautiful and dangerous in equal measure—a predator designed to kill, currently practicing his craft.
And he was doomed without her.
The realization hit like a physical blow. This dragon prince who moved like violence incarnate, who’d crashed her wedding and kidnapped her, who could probably destroy armies single-handedly—he would fade and die if she walked away. All that power, that immortal strength, that ancient magic—gone. Because of her choice.
“Intoxicating, isn’t it?” Lyssa murmured. “Knowing you hold that much power over someone so powerful.”
It was. And it terrified her.
Lysander paused in his training, as if sensing her attention. His head turned toward their window, silver eyes finding hers across the distance. Even from here, she felt the bond flare—recognition, desire, desperate hope.
He didn’t smile. Didn’t wave. Just held her gaze for a long moment, letting her see him. All of him. The strength that could protect her. The power that would die without her. The man who was trying so hard to prove himself worthy.
Then he turned back to his training, giving her space like he’d promised.
“He’s holding back,” Lyssa said softly. “Every instinct is screaming at him to come up here, claim you, never let you go. But he’s restraining himself. For you. Because you asked him to.”
Freya watched him move through another series of strikes, each one more controlled than the last. The restraint it must take—fighting his dragon instincts, giving her space when every fiber of his being wanted to be near her.
“You said dragons are possessive,” Freya said. “That we’re not logical about our mates.”
“We’re not.”
“But he’s being logical. Patient. Respectful.” She looked at Lyssa. “How?”
“Because he loves you more than he loves his instincts.” Lyssa’s expression was serious. “That’s what real devotion looks like, Freya. Not possession or control. But choosing your happiness over his own desires. Every single day.”
In the training yard, another dragon challenged Lysander to spar. They fought with real weapons—trust between dragons that a few scars would heal quickly. Lysander moved like water and fire, beautiful and deadly, and Freya couldn’t look away.
Through the bond, she felt his awareness of her watching. Felt his satisfaction that she was interested. Felt his determination to prove himself worthy in every possible way.
“What if I fall for him and it’s just the bond?” Freya asked, the question that had haunted her since the beginning.
“Then you’ll spend your life with someone you love who loves you back. Is that really so terrible?” Lyssa squeezed her hand. “Stop trying to separate the magic from the feelings. They’re intertwined by design. What matters is whether he makes you happy. Whether you can imagine forever with him.”
“I barely know him.”
“So get to know him. You have a month.” Lyssa gestured to the training yard. “Go down there. Talk to him. Ask him about his life, his dreams, what he wants beyond the bond. The more you understand who he is, the easier your choice will be.”
Freya watched Lysander disarm his opponent with a move too fast to follow, then offer a hand to help him up. Strength tempered with mercy. Power with honor.
“He really would die without me,” she whispered.
“Yes. But Freya—” Lyssa’s voice was firm. “—don’t accept the bond out of guilt. That’s not fair to either of you. If you’re going to choose him, choose him because you want him. Because the thought of leaving makes your chest ache. Because being his mate sounds better than any alternative.”
“And if it doesn’t?”
“Then you walk away, and you let him fade, and you live with that choice.” Lyssa’s expression was somber. “I won’t lie and say it would be easy. But you deserve to choose your own fate. Even if that choice destroys my brother.”
The weight of it was crushing. One decision. One month. A dragon prince’s entire existence hanging on whether she could fall in love with him.
No pressure at all.
In the training yard, Lysander finished his bout and looked up at her window again. This time he did smile—small, hopeful, heartbreakingly vulnerable for someone so powerful.
Through the bond, his emotion washed over her: I’ll prove myself. Every day. Watch me.
And despite every logical reason to guard her heart, Freya felt herself smiling back.
“I’m going down there,” she decided.
Lyssa’s grin was triumphant. “Good. But Freya? Maybe give him a minute to put a shirt on first. Unless you want him to know you were enjoying the view.”
Heat flooded Freya’s face. “I was not—”
“You absolutely were. The bond works both ways, remember? He can feel your attraction right now.”
Through the bond, she felt Lysander’s answering surge of satisfaction. He knew she’d been watching. Knew she’d found him attractive. Was absolutely going to use that knowledge to his advantage.
“This bond is extremely inconvenient,” Freya muttered.
Lyssa laughed. “Welcome to being a dragon’s mate. Everything is intense, nothing is private, and you’re going to spend the rest of your very long life being absolutely adored by someone who can read your emotions.”
“You’re not selling this very well.”
“I’m being honest. But Freya?” Lyssa’s expression softened. “I’ve seen a lot of bonds in my lifetime. And the way my brother looks at you? That’s not just magic. That’s real. Give him a chance to prove it.”
Freya took a breath, steadying herself. One month to fall in love with a dragon. To decide if the fated mate bond was destiny or disaster. To figure out if being claimed by an ancient prince was freedom or just a prettier cage.
No pressure at all.
She headed toward the training grounds, feeling Lysander’s awareness flare through the bond.
Behind her, Lyssa called out: “And Freya? For what it’s worth? I think you’re already falling. You just don’t want to admit it yet.”
Freya didn’t respond.
But she didn’t deny it either.
And through the bond, she felt Lysander’s hope burn bright as dragon fire.
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