"Hiss~!!"
"Ah! You up ahead, move out of the way~!! I can't stop it!"
A pleasant voice rang out, followed by the thunder of hooves.
Vlad turned just in time to see a beautiful woman struggling to control a panicked carriage as it barreled toward him.
In her desperation, she yanked hard on the reins—but the jolt caused the carriage to lurch violently, throwing her forward.
Reacting swiftly, Vlad sidestepped the carriage and caught the woman in his arms, narrowly avoiding disaster.
As he steadied her, he noticed that she was clutching a baby to her chest.
"Reckless," Vlad muttered with a frown.
He glanced down at the woman again.
She had reddish-brown hair, a tall, graceful figure, and wore a white corset dress that accentuated her slim waist. At this moment, her fair, delicate face was pale with fright.
When Vlad saw her features clearly, his eyes narrowed. Then, when he looked at the child again, a thoughtful expression came over him.
"You… could you let me go?" a cool voice with a hint of embarrassment said.
Vlad snapped out of his thoughts and looked down. The woman's cheeks were flushed as she met his gaze—nervous, flustered, and shy.
He then realized that his hand had inadvertently landed on her firm backside.
Instinctively, he gave it another light squeeze before pretending nothing had happened and gently released her.
"Are you alright, madam?" he asked kindly, maintaining a gentlemanly demeanor.
The woman, who had briefly suspected he might be taking advantage, quickly dismissed the thought after seeing his composed expression.
"I'm fine. Thank you for saving me… and my child."
"I was so frightened… I don't even know what spooked the horse."
She patted her chest with a shaky breath, clearly still shaken—her figure making it obvious that she was still nursing.
Vlad politely averted his gaze and said, "My name is Vlad. And may I ask yours, fair lady?"
"Hello. You may call me Freya. And this is my daughter, Elsa," she replied with a soft smile.
Hearing her name, Vlad's expression turned thoughtful.
Freya—the future Ice Queen.
The sovereign of the northern snow-covered lands.
And at present, the younger sister of Queen Ravenna.
Ravenna, the powerful sorceress hidden in the shadows, pulling strings with her puppet army in pursuit of the Centaur race's secrets.
Who would expect a queen to be a witch in secret?
But Vlad knew her well.
The name Ravenna might be unfamiliar to many, but everyone knew the line:
"Magic mirror, magic mirror, who is the fairest of them all?"
The mistress of the enchanted mirror—the future wicked stepmother of Snow White.
Vlad glanced again at the child in Freya's arms. "She's adorable. Where is her father? Why isn't he with you?"
At the question, Freya's expression darkened. She forced a faint smile but gave no answer.
Vlad simply smiled and didn't press further.
He already knew—Freya had conceived before marriage, and her lover was now engaged to someone else. Their relationship was over.
What a pity. The little girl, Elsa, would soon be burned alive by Ravenna—under the enchantment of a spell meant to manipulate her lover.
And why? Because the magic mirror revealed that Elsa would grow up to become the fairest of them all.
Ironically, that tragedy would awaken Freya's dormant ice magic.
As the thought passed, Vlad suddenly paused.
"Elsa… why does that name sound so familiar?"
Before he could make the connection, Freya's voice pulled him back.
"Mr. Vlad? Mr. Vlad?"
He blinked. "Ah, sorry. I got lost in thought for a moment."
Freya smiled lightly. "You don't have to be so formal. From your accent, I'd guess you're not from Arendelle?"
"If you don't mind, why don't you come by my home? I believe my sister would be grateful to you."
Vlad readily agreed.
After all, his visit here had everything to do with Ravenna.
He hadn't expected her to be the same dark queen from The Huntsman: Winter's War and Snow White and the Huntsman, but that only made it more necessary to get close to her.
Feigning initial reluctance, Vlad accepted Freya's repeated invitations, and the two headed to the castle.
Along the way, Vlad was warm and humorous, deliberately closing the emotional distance between them.
Freya, already caught in emotional turmoil, found comfort in his presence.
She began to open up more, even smiling softly during their conversations.
Seeing her brightening expression, Vlad gently asked, "Does your husband treat you badly? You seem... troubled."
Freya hesitated, then slowly shook her head. "I don't have a husband."
"I'm sorry—I shouldn't have assumed," Vlad replied with mock surprise.
"It's alright. I was just foolish," Freya said with a bitter smile.
Perhaps the admission opened a door. Freya began to share her story—of heartbreak, betrayal, and disappointment.
"Vlad… do you think I'm stupid?"
"He's marrying another woman. And I still believed he loved me."
Her voice trembled.
As a tear slid down her cheek, Vlad embraced her.
Freya stiffened, but didn't resist. She leaned into him, seeking solace.
"Let it out," he whispered. "Sometimes, crying is how we begin to heal."
"There's a brighter road ahead. Someone better is waiting for you—someone who'll never let go."
As he comforted her, Freya broke down, sobbing in his arms.
When she finally calmed, she realized how intimate their position had become. Blushing, she quickly straightened up and wiped her tears.
Vlad couldn't help but marvel—despite having given birth, she still carried such innocence.
Seeing the blush rise on her delicate cheeks, he softly asked, "Has anyone ever told you… how beautiful you are?"
Freya was caught completely off guard.
"W-What is he saying?" she panicked internally, then turned away like a shy schoolgirl.
Vlad could tell—Freya had little experience with men.
As the mood turned tender, he gently cupped her flushed face and met her gaze.
"I don't know if you still love him. I don't know if he ever loved you. But I do know—if I were your man, I'd never abandon you… or our child."
His words struck deep.
"If he truly loved me… why hasn't he come back?"
With the last of her illusions shattered, Freya looked at Vlad's handsome face, then slowly closed her eyes.
Their lips met—brief, soft, electric.
Freya opened her eyes, dazed.
Vlad raised an eyebrow. "We're still in public."
Glancing around and catching curious stares, Freya's face flushed red. She turned quickly and hurried toward the castle.
Upon arriving, Vlad feigned surprise. "You're Queen Ravenna's sister?"
Freya offered a small, indifferent smile. "It's nothing to boast about."
"You're unlike any noblewoman I've met," Vlad remarked thoughtfully. Then, as if remembering something, he asked, "Why were you out alone? Where are your guards and servants?"
Before she could respond, a cool, commanding voice echoed through the hall.
A tall, elegant blonde stood on the balcony, her presence both regal and chilling.
She wore a luxurious black gown with a corseted waist, an iron crown resting on her head, exuding majesty and strength.
Yet the soft tassels on her dress and the graceful curve of her legs beneath the flowing fabric lent her a magnetic allure.
Vlad knew immediately—this was Queen Ravenna.
Night fell.
In a darkened room, the sound of heavy breaths echoed.
After some rustling of cloth, a soft moan filled the space.
"How did you get in here?"
"Flew in, naturally."
"Liar."
"I'd never lie to you. Freya… haven't you already had a child?"
"Yes. Why?"
"No reason. I just didn't expect you to still be this… firm."
In the shadows, Vlad gently squeezed her plump rear and spoke honestly.
Freya, still a mortal woman, couldn't keep up for long. She soon gave in to fatigue.
As she lay exhausted, Vlad's mind returned to his earlier encounter with Ravenna.
Her power rivaled his.
If Vlad was a level-two vampire, then Ravenna was on the verge of reaching his level.
An extraordinary being—no longer just a witch, but something more.
With a lifespan likely over 500 years, Ravenna had far surpassed her movie depiction.
Films, after all, are just fairy tales.
The Next Morning.
At breakfast, Ravenna eyed Freya's glowing complexion, then glanced at Vlad, who appeared completely composed.
"Vlad, are you here for pleasure? Or visiting friends?" she asked calmly, slicing into her meal.
"Thank you for your hospitality, Your Majesty. I recently came from the Kingdom of Leyle. The scenery in the north is quite different from the south."
Vlad had anticipated her probing and was prepared with answers.
But Ravenna was no fool. Her piercing gaze lingered, evaluating him.
Vlad returned the gaze, thinking:
"She's cautious… or perhaps she's already sensed something."
Their breakfast concluded with subtle tension—an unspoken battle of wits.
On the way back.
The naive Freya had sensed her sister's scrutiny.
She glanced at Vlad with concern. "Please don't take my sister's questions to heart. She didn't mean any offense."
"She's just upset that I charmed her beloved baby sister," Vlad teased.
Freya blushed.
Vlad leaned in close and whispered:
"But tonight… you'll have to make up for my wounded heart."
As his breath brushed her ear, he pulled her waist close, pressing her against him.
Red-faced, Freya buried her face in his chest with a soft, embarrassed hum.
Unbeknownst to her, Vlad cast a sly look toward the castle restaurant—his gaze provocative.
For three consecutive nights…
Every night, strange sounds echoed from Freya's chambers.
Moans—some high, some quiet—like crying, like laughter. Enough to stir anyone's imagination.
As Vlad described it, this was his punishment for Ravenna.
Lying breathless on the silken sheets, Freya's chest heaved.
Vlad lazily traced the marks on her flushed skin and whispered more intoxicating words into her ear.
Freya stared at him, dazed and enamored.
"Knock knock~"
Just as Freya prepared to once again surrender to him completely, a hurried knock came at the door.