Updated Nov 6, 2025 • ~10 min read
Two weeks.
They’d been in his chambers for two full weeks, and Freya was starting to understand why dragon honeymoons were measured in months, not days.
The mate bond was intense. More intense than any book or warning could have prepared her for. Every touch amplified by magic. Every emotion shared completely. Every moment of intimacy binding them closer until she couldn’t tell where she ended and Lysander began.
Not that she was complaining.
She stretched lazily in the massive bed, feeling pleasantly exhausted and thoroughly claimed. Through the bond, she felt Lysander’s satisfaction—his dragon finally, completely content now that his mate was properly bonded and marked and his in every possible way.
“We should probably leave these chambers at some point,” she murmured.
“Why?” Lysander’s arm tightened around her waist. “We have everything we need right here.”
“Food. Responsibilities. The fact that your sister has been threatening to break down the door for three days.”
“Lyssa can wait.”
As if summoned by her name, pounding erupted on the chamber doors.
“LYSANDER!” Princess Lyssa’s voice carried through the heavy wood. “You two have RESPONSIBILITIES! The council needs decisions! Trade agreements need signing! Your MOTHER is getting concerned!”
Through the bond, Freya felt Lysander’s reluctance warring with his awareness that they couldn’t hide forever.
“Fine,” he called back. “Give us an hour.”
“You said that yesterday!”
“And I meant it yesterday too.” He grinned at Freya’s laugh. “One hour. I promise.”
“I’m holding you to that!” Lyssa’s footsteps retreated, muttering about impossible mates and dragon obsession.
“She’s right,” Freya said, reluctantly disentangling herself from Lysander’s embrace. “We can’t stay in bed forever.”
“We can try.”
“Lysander.”
“Fine.” He sat up, silver eyes taking in her disheveled state with pure satisfaction. “But I’m blaming you for being irresistible.”
“You’re the one who kept saying ‘just once more.'”
“And I stand by that decision.” He pulled her back for a kiss that threatened to derail their plans to leave the chambers entirely. “Every single time.”
It took them longer than an hour to actually emerge—dragon possessiveness and honeymoon magic were difficult to overcome. But eventually, they made it to the dining hall for what would be their first public appearance since the wedding.
The entire court erupted in applause when they entered.
Freya’s face burned with embarrassment—everyone knew exactly what they’d been doing for two weeks—but Lysander just grinned and pulled her closer, utterly shameless.
“Welcome back to the land of the living,” Queen Seraphine said dryly. “We were beginning to think we’d lost you to the bond entirely.”
“Thought about it,” Lysander admitted, guiding Freya to their seats. “But apparently responsibilities exist.”
“Shocking, I know.” King Aldric’s expression was amused. “How are you both? The bond settling well?”
“It’s…” Freya searched for words. “Intense. Overwhelming. Incredible. I can feel him all the time now. His emotions, his presence, even some of his thoughts when we’re not actively blocking each other.”
“That’s normal for newly completed bonds,” the Queen assured her. “It’ll settle over time. You’ll learn to give each other mental space while still maintaining the connection.”
“I don’t want space,” Lysander said immediately.
“You’ll want space eventually. Trust me.” The King’s smile was knowing. “Even dragons need privacy sometimes.”
Over the meal, Freya caught up on everything she’d missed during their extended honeymoon. Viktor had been officially banished from all human kingdoms, his title stripped, his family’s reputation in tatters. The alliance between dragons and humans was stronger than ever, with trade agreements being expanded and cultural exchanges planned.
And Freya herself had become something of a legend—the human woman who’d defeated a prince in combat, saved a dragon’s life, and chosen to bridge two worlds.
“You’re basically famous now,” Lyssa said cheerfully. “Songs are being written about you. Very dramatic ballads about kidnapping and true love.”
“Please tell me you’re joking.”
“I’m absolutely not joking. There’s one called ‘The Dragon’s Bride’ that’s particularly ridiculous. You should hear the verse about the dead sheep.”
Through the bond, Freya felt Lysander’s amusement. He would never live down the sheep incident.
After the meal, Freya spent the afternoon exploring the palace properly for the first time since the wedding. Before, she’d been a captive, then a guest, then too busy training and fighting and completing bonds. Now she was actually free to simply… be.
She found herself in the library—Lysander’s hoard, now theirs—running her fingers along ancient spines and marveling that this was her life now. Centuries of reading ahead of her. Access to knowledge most humans would never dream of. The freedom to study whatever interested her, learn magic she’d never imagined possible.
“Happy?” Lysander asked, appearing behind her.
“Deliriously.” She turned to face him. “I know it sounds strange, but I love it here. Love the dragon court, the magic, the freedom to just exist without being controlled. You kidnapped me to save me from Viktor, but you gave me something more—actual autonomy.”
“You saved yourself,” he corrected. “I just provided the opportunity.”
“We saved each other.” She moved into his arms. “You saved me from Viktor. I saved you from loneliness. We saved each other from fates we didn’t choose.”
Through the bond, his love wrapped around her like a blanket.
They spent the rest of the day together—sometimes talking, sometimes in comfortable silence, always aware of each other through their connection. Freya began learning to control the dragon magic now accessible to her, practicing small spells under the guidance of court enchanters. She would never shift—that was dragon-born only—but she could do things no full human could. Manipulate fire, strengthen her physical abilities, even understand the dragon language when it was spoken.
It was exhilarating and terrifying and everything she’d never known she wanted.
That evening, as they were preparing for dinner, a messenger arrived.
The boy looked nervous, clutching a sealed letter like it might explode. “Your Highnesses. A message from the human kingdoms. It’s… urgent.”
Freya took the letter, breaking the seal. The handwriting was shaky, unfamiliar. Not her father’s careful script, but someone writing on his behalf.
Her stomach dropped as she read.
“What is it?” Lysander asked, immediately sensing her distress through the bond.
“My father.” Her voice came out hollow. “He’s dying. Illness. The healers say he has days, maybe a week. He’s asking to see me.”
Silence fell across the room.
Freya hadn’t seen her family since the kidnapping. Hadn’t spoken to her father since he’d sold her to Viktor without asking her opinion. There was anger there, resentment, hurt that hadn’t fully healed.
But he was still her father. And he was dying.
“Do you want to go?” Lysander asked quietly.
“Yes. But I’m nervous.” She looked at him. “I don’t know what I’ll say to him. I’m angry about what he did, but I also… I don’t want him to die thinking I hate him.”
“Then we go.” Simple. Absolute. “We’ll leave in the morning.”
“We?”
“You’re my mate. Where you go, I go.” His expression was firm. “Even to annoying human lands that tried to start a war with us.”
“Lysander, you don’t have to—”
“I’m coming.” He cupped her face gently. “You’re going to face your father who sold you to Viktor. Who forced you into a situation that led to all of this. That’s going to be difficult and emotional and potentially painful. You think I’m letting you do that alone?”
Through the bond, she felt his protectiveness. Not possessive this time, but supportive. He wanted to be there for her, to help her through something difficult.
“What about the court? Your responsibilities?”
“Can wait a few days. My mate needs me.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Besides, I’ve been wanting to show certain human nobles exactly what you chose. Let them see the dragon prince and his human mate, completely devoted to each other. Might help reinforce that our relationship isn’t captivity.”
“You want to show off.”
“I absolutely want to show off. You’re incredible and mine and I want everyone to know it.” His grin was unrepentant. “But mostly, I want to support you through something difficult. That’s what mates do.”
Freya leaned into him, grateful for his strength. “Thank you.”
“Always.” Through the bond, his love was absolute. “We’ll leave at dawn. Fly to your family’s estate. You’ll say whatever you need to say to your father. And then we come home. Together.”
Home. The Drakemyr Court. Not her childhood estate, not the human kingdoms. Home was here now, with him.
“Together,” she agreed.
That night, as they prepared for the journey, Freya felt the weight of what was coming. Facing her father after everything that had happened. Confronting the man who’d forced her into marriage with Viktor. Deciding whether she could forgive him, whether she wanted to.
“What if I can’t forgive him?” she asked Lysander as they lay in the darkness. “What if I’m still too angry?”
“Then you’re angry. That’s valid.” His hand found hers in the dark. “You don’t owe him forgiveness just because he’s dying. You don’t owe him anything. If you want to yell at him, yell. If you want to cry, cry. If you want to walk away without saying a word—do that. Whatever you need, I support you.”
Through the bond, she felt his certainty. He would back whatever decision she made, whatever emotion she felt.
“I don’t know what I want to say to him.”
“Then we’ll figure it out when we get there.” He pulled her closer. “You have time to decide. And you have me. Whatever happens, you’re not alone.”
Not alone. She’d been alone for so long—trapped in her father’s expectations, isolated by Viktor’s cruelty, struggling to survive circumstances she hadn’t chosen.
But now she had Lysander. Had a mate bond that meant she’d never truly be alone again. Had someone who would fly into the human kingdoms he’d been at war with just to support her through something difficult.
“I love you,” she whispered.
“I love you more.” His standard response, accompanied by warmth flooding through the bond.
“That’s impossible.”
“Provably false. I loved you first.”
“You kidnapped me first. That’s not the same thing.”
“Romantic kidnapping,” he corrected. “Very different.”
Despite everything, she laughed. “You’re ridiculous.”
“Your ridiculous dragon,” he corrected. “Forever.”
“Forever,” she agreed.
And held onto him in the darkness, gathering strength for tomorrow.
For facing her past so she could fully embrace her future.
For confronting the man who’d tried to control her fate, armed with the knowledge that she’d seized that fate for herself.
For showing her family—and herself—that being the Dragon Prince’s bride wasn’t captivity.
It was freedom in its purest form.
And she wouldn’t trade it for anything.
💕 Two weeks in those chambers… what were they DOING? 💕
Find out in Chapter 29.5: “The Honeymoon” – available exclusively for Patreon supporters!
Lysander wasn’t joking about dragon honeymoons being intense. Freya discovers why newly bonded mates don’t emerge for weeks, why Lyssa was threatening to break down the door, and exactly what “dragon stamina” means. Some mysteries are worth solving…
🔥 [Discover why they needed two full weeks on Patreon →]
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