Vanaheim

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The portal spits you out, and you are momentarily disorientated, but then rough hands grab you and pull you forward. Your (E/C) eyes adjust to the bright suns of Vanaheim, and panic fills your body. How did your plan go so horribly wrong? Freyr drags you from the portal site and into the golden palace. Everyone stops and stares as you are paraded through the kingdom. Your wrists are burning as the runed handcuffs diminish your powers.
"Take her to my chambers, do not allow her to leave. I need to speak to my father." Freyr commands the guards.
Another set of hands grip you tightly, and you are once more dragged away. The guards eventually throw you into a large room and leave you alone. All you want to do is curl up into a ball and cry, you are in so much pain from the runes, but that would not help anyone. You need a plan, and soon.

After allowing yourself a few minutes to calm down and collect yourself, you get to planning. Freyr's chambers are enormous, one door leads to a large bathroom, while another leads to a balcony, but this door is locked. You check everywhere for a weapon but come up empty. What kind of warrior doesn't have a weapon in his room? You opt to sit on Freyr's bed and await for his imminent arrival.

Freyr steps into his room and locks the door behind him. You remain seated on the edge of his bed, never taking your eyes off the man as he removes his armoured chest plate.
"I apologise for leaving you alone, but you have caused a great deal of trouble for me." He says as he walks towards you. "My father and I have much to discuss. Alas, it has been decided: the wedding shall go ahead here rather than in Asgard. I still need you to be my queen."
"And if I refuse?" You question stubbornly.
"Then I head back to Midgard and slaughter your new mortal friends."  He growls threateningly.  
"I will never bow down to you."
Freyr shrugs. "I do not care. You have a choice, you can either play along and have a pleasant life as my queen, or you can resist and suffer every day for the rest of your pathetic life. I suggest the former."
Freyr walks towards the door and unlocks it.
"Why are you doing this?" You ask meekly.
"Power." Is all he says, before exiting the room.
You hear the door lock, and you are alone once more.

Four days drag by, and all you have been allowed to do is remain in Freyr's chambers. You haven't managed to create an escape plan; this place is more heavily guarded than the vault on Asgard. You have also attempted to remove the runed handcuffs, but to no avail. Freyr comes and goes, never speaking more than a few words to you, but you have noticed that the hall outside your room has had more foot traffic the past day and you dread to think what that means.

"Princess (Y/N)?" A small voice startles you slightly, and you turn to the sound.
A young girl with chocolate brown hair is holding a basket filled with sweet-smelling potions.
"Yes?"
"I have been assigned to get you ready for today." She smiles softly, stepping further into the room, leaving the door open slightly.
You throw her a confused glance. "What is happening today, may I ask?"
Your question seems to throw her off for a second, but she quickly composes herself.
"Your wedding to Prince Freyr, of course."
The dread creeps over you like an icy chill, numbing your brain, and you feel your face pale. In this frozen state, your mind offers you only one thought. It is today. There is no avoiding it.
"I see." Is all you manage to say.
"I shall draw you a bath." The maid says as she heads into the bathroom.
As soon as the bathroom door closes, you jump to your feet and rush to the golden doors and throw them open. You feel a small sliver of hope and any doubts of this being a trap fly out of your mind. You just need to get away from here. Picking up the skirt of your dress, you start running away from the room.

Your heels are no good to you now. As you kick them off your heart beats faster, and the adrenaline demands you to run, right now, no delay. But unless you get them off, you cannot. You wish you were provided with more sensible shoes, but they are three inches high. Then the cold, golden floor of the palace floor kisses your soles, and you punch away, heading in a random direction. Your feet slip, and you almost tumble over, more time you cannot afford. Then you hear the shouts. Risking a glance behind you, you notice four pursuers; huge, fast, and ready to take you back to your prison. You keep running, every step is vital, then you feel a hand grasp at your dress, but failing to grip as you round a corner. You cheer silently, only to feel strong arms grabbing you around the waist, and for a moment, you are airborne. Before you know you've made a decision to scream, your voice rents the air and the desperation in it scares you.

The arms around your waist tighten painfully.
"Stupid girl." Freyr's gruff voice says in your ear. "Did you really think that was a good idea, that you were going to escape?"
You whimper. "Please stop this, Freyr."
He laughs a short, heartless sound. 
"Why stop now when I can make your life so much worse?"
Freyr drags you back to his chambers, followed by the four guards. The young girl goes pale as you are thrown into the room.
"Get her ready now!" He bellows. "There shall be no more time-wasting. You cannot prevent what is inevitable, (Y/N)." Freyr seethes as he leaves the room.
Tears pool in the bottom of your (E/C) eyes, but you do not allow them to fall. You will not cry in front of this man. You will not allow him to break you.

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