Frieda's face went super red. She didn't know what to say. "Florian, it's... nothing you need to think about," she said, her voice wobbly. "We were just... talking."
Florian frowned, looking at Frieda, then Jake. "But Big Brother Lucif's face is red too," she said, pointing at Jake. "And you look weird."
Frieda's cheeks got even hotter. "Florian, you're too little to get it," she said, bending down to look her sister in the eyes.
Jake gave a soft smile, trying to help. "It's okay, Florian," he said nicely. "It's just something between me and your sister. Nothing bad, I swear."
Florian looked at them, still not sure. "Okay," she said, glancing at her book.
Frieda sighed, feeling relieved. She gently patted Florian's head. "Thanks, sweetie," she said, still a bit shy but happy her sister didn't ask more.
Florian grinned at them. "I like Big Brother Lucif. He's nice to me."
Frieda smiled at her little sister, feeling warm but awkward. As Florian walked out of the room.
"Florian really has the worst timing," Jake said in a low, teasing voice.
Frieda crossed her arms and sighed. "She's a little troublemaker." A small smile appeared on her lips, though her mind was elsewhere—thinking back to something he said three years ago. "More like… a wife." They had built a life together, but he never brought it up again, and it was starting to bother her.
She took a deep breath and spoke softly but clearly. "So… when you said 'You will be mine,' and called me your wife... I'm twenty now, Jake. I'm not getting any younger. How about this year?" Her eyes met his, showing a mix of confidence and worry. "Or are you just going to keep avoiding it?"
Jake's smile widened. He stepped closer. "This year?" he said with a grin. "Wow, princess, you're really serious. What's the rush? Worried I'll run off and burn some Titans for fun?"
Frieda's face turned even redder. She poked his chest with her finger. "Don't joke about this. I mean it. You told me I'm not your servant—so stop treating me like I'm just a passing fling." Her voice cracked a little.
Jake gently grabbed her hand. His smirk softened, though the playful sparkle in his eyes stayed. "Relax, Frieda," he said calmly. "You're mine, and I'm yours. This year is fine. Pick a day, and I'll be there." He leaned in and whispered, "But you're stuck with me forever. So make sure you're ready."
Frieda's heart fluttered. She gave him a small push and muttered, "You're such a jerk." But her smile was real now, warm and shy.
She looked away, her voice quieter. "With my parents gone, it feels like everything's on me. father left years ago. couldn't handle me being free. He gave up, and my mother followed him. They never came back." Her eyes darkened, but she shook off the sadness.
Jake's smile faded. He placed a steady hand on her shoulder. "You've got me," he said, serious for once. "And I'm not going anywhere."
Frieda looked up and gave a small, true smile. "This year," she repeated. "No backing out."
Jake grinned and wrapped an arm around her. "Deal."
Six Months Later
The private chapel at the Reiss estate glowed with soft candlelight. Simple white flowers hung on the stone walls. There was no grand ceremony—just a few trusted maids, little Florian holding a basket of petals, and a quiet, peaceful air. Frieda had wanted it this way.
The world outside was full of chaos, but this moment was only for them.
Frieda stood at the altar. Her long dark hair flowed down her back, and she wore a simple cream dress. No veil, no crown—just her. Her hands trembled slightly, but her eyes were steady, fixed on Jake. He stood across from her in a neat dark tunic.
Florian giggled as she threw petals on the floor, making Frieda roll her eyes fondly. The officiant, an old family servant who had known Frieda since she was a child, spoke gently, though Frieda hardly heard the words. Her heart was beating too fast. She only had eyes for Jake—her partner, her devil, her home.
Before the officiant could finish, Jake leaned in and kissed her. His lips were warm, full of passion and certainty. Florian squealed, "Ew, again?" making everyone laugh and break the tension.
As they pulled apart, Jake whispered against her lips, "Told you I'd make it happen."
After the laughter settled and the ceremony ended, the small group slowly left the chapel, leaving Jake and Frieda alone.
They walked back to their room in silence, hand in hand, the quiet between them full of meaning. The corridor was dim, lit only by torches flickering along the stone walls. Frieda's heart pounded louder with each step. Her fingers tightened around his.
Inside the room, the fire was already lit. The warmth welcomed them, but Frieda didn't move far from the door. She stood there, her back turned to Jake, her hands clutching her dress. She could barely breathe.
Jake stepped up behind her and gently placed his hands on her waist.
"You okay?" he asked, voice soft.
She nodded, but didn't turn around.
He leaned closer, his mouth near her ear. "You know what a husband and wife are supposed to do, right?"
Frieda's face turned red instantly. "I…" she whispered, flustered.
He chuckled low, and without warning, lifted her up into his arms.
"Too late to be shy now, Mrs. Devil," he teased, carrying her toward the bed. "You signed the contract."
She buried her face in his chest, mumbling, "You're such a jerk."
"And you're mine," he whispered back.
Morning
The first light of dawn crept in through the window, golden and soft.
Frieda lay curled against Jake's chest, both of them tangled in the same blanket. Her hair spilled across the pillow. Her body, bare and marked with small bruises and love bites, rose and fell gently with her breathing.
Jake's arm was draped over her waist, holding her close. He was still asleep, a small, satisfied smile on his face.
The sheets were a mess—wrinkled, twisted, and stained faintly with spots of dried blood at the edge. A quiet but telling reminder of her first time.
Frieda stirred slightly, blinking against the morning light. Her face was flushed, even in sleep, her body sore in ways she had never felt before.
But her expression was peaceful.
She nestled closer to him, pulling the blanket tighter around them.