Queen of Ashes │ Season 1 │The Journey

26 │Blurry tales

The scraps on her back were healing softly as well. She felt the need to scratch, but she wasn't able to break the contact with the Prince's blood. It was now fully up to him to pull her away because she didn't have any will over her body. She didn't want to have one.

Suddenly, she was met with a strange feeling, like her soul was leaving the body. It wasn't truly happening—somehow she could grasp that—but she had no contact with the rest of her limbs and her surroundings.

She closed her eyes, and then the visions came like a blur.

She was looking at the same Leander she knew by now, sitting at the piano playing and singing a calm, but at the same time—very sad song. The melody was something else entirely. She could envision herself falling in love with it after only a few notes. Just a few steps further, she caught a movement, and surprisingly, she was now looking at herself. Only that the other Freya looked different—even if the general picture matched, she noticed her empty gaze, enormous shadows under the eyes, and much, much thinner body. That Freya was a wreck of a person and, for observing Freya, the image came with a huge package of emotions. The singing stopped, and the Prince turned, spotting the other Freya's thin figure. His eyes told the silently observing the scene Freya a lot. He was looking at the woman before him with so much sadness and worry—but also... Longing, perhaps?

As she took the first step to watch more carefully what followed, it was like a tornado whirled her to the next scenery. The room lit by the candles came into view, and at the center of it—the biggest bed she had ever seen. The thing occupied her attention so strongly that Freya caught the movement after a while. She turned toward the window, where in a tight embrace two people stood, kissing greedily, the woman moaning the man's name.

Leander.

And that woman kissing him was her, Freya, now looking much, much better. Not as good and healthy as she should be, but better. Freya suddenly felt hot. She wanted to look and didn't want to look at the same time. It was them. Her lips were kissing and licking the perfect shape of his body. Her hands were removing his clothes with a quick eagerness. He wasn't waiting long to pull her nightgown's ties, baring her breasts just so his lips could immediately catch them.

Freya couldn't breathe watching this, but as fast as she started suffocating, she was swirled around to the next scene.

The circumstances were different; it was obvious at first sight. She was met with a dark, eerie forest. The air was misty, and the sounds of angry ravens were hard to ignore. Freya saw her other self's figure in the woods again, but this time utterly alone. Crying and holding her big belly. The blood on her hands. Her face was spasming with the pain. At one moment she screamed so loud that the birds took off from the surrounding trees and the leaves had fallen, circling her. That was it. That was her labor. Why was she there, though?

With a whoosh of a sound, the next vision came.

Shouting people. A big commotion on the other side of the door. The room was small and dusty, although big enough to accommodate two people whispering things to themselves.

"I love you, Frey. Don't you ever forget that. I love you, darling... I love you,"—was the last thing she heard when the visions ended.

And she knew that voice very well.

It was Leander's.

When she opened her eyes, the wrist was no longer in her mouth. She pulled a hand over her face just to spot the wetness all over it, probably her tears. With a heavy breath, she looked at the man beside her and could spot a lot of emotions, but the strongest were confusion and worry.