The Lycan Slave Princess

CHAPTER 2: Rooted Hatred

Freya moved down the corridor, her heartbeat quickening with each step. When she reached Luna Seraphine’s chamber, the guards exchanged a quick glance before opening the doors.

“Enter,” one of them said.

Freya stepped inside, aware of the guard who followed closely behind her.

Luna Seraphine was standing near the tall window, her back to the room, gazing out beyond the palace walls. The moonlight softly outlined her figure—serene, but cold.

Freya bowed her head. “My Luna.”

Before she could stand upright again, a firm hand pushed her down. She fell to her knees on the marble floor, feeling a sharp pain shoot through her legs.

“Stay down,” the guard muttered.

Freya swallowed hard and remained kneeling, her hands resting tensely on her lap.

Slowly, Luna turned. Her eyes settled on Freya like a predator observing its prey.

“Who are your parents?”

Freya hesitated, her fingers tightening slightly against her dress. “I… I am an orphan, My Luna. My parents are—”

“Stop.” The word cut through the air. “I asked who your parents are, not for a story. I mean their names.”

Freya’s throat went dry. “My father is Eryndor Vale… and my mother, Lyanna Vale.”

Silence followed.

A flicker of shock crossed Luna’s face before it vanished beneath cold control.

*Lyanna Vale,* she thought to herself, repeating the name she had buried in the past. Lyanna had been a rival once destined to become the Luna of the Bloodmoon Pack—until she was accused of treachery, framed for leaking secrets to a rival pack, and executed under Alpha Caelum’s command.

And now, seeing Lyanna's daughter kneeling before her brought back all the old hatred. Luna’s gaze darkened. *I dealt with the mother… Now I have to deal with the daughter again.*

Her lips curved faintly into a cruel smile. “So,” she said slowly, “you think a lowly wolf like you can rise high enough to marry my son?”

Freya’s head lifted slightly in alarm before she quickly lowered it again. “No, my Luna. I would never. I only came to serve—”

The sharp slap came with force and without warning.

Freya’s head snapped to the side as pain exploded across her face. A soft gasp escaped her lips as the heavy rings on Luna’s fingers cut into her skin, splitting her lower lip. Blood followed immediately.

“Silence,” Luna said coldly. “You will not speak unless I allow it.”

Freya’s breath trembled as she forced herself to remain still, the metallic taste of blood filling her mouth.

Luna stepped closer, looking down at her with open disgust. “For seducing my son and daring to forget your place… You will be punished.”

Freya’s fingers curled slightly against the cold floor.

“You will scrub the palace corridors, the kitchen, and the throne hall,” Luna continued. “You will begin tonight.”

Freya’s breath caught in her chest.

“If by cockcrow you are not done, you will receive twenty lashes of the wolfsbane-coated horsewhip. And make sure every surface shines before the Alpha returns from his trip.”

Freya lowered her head further. “Yes, my Luna.”

Luna straightened her posture. “Guard. Monitor her.”

“Yes, my Luna.”

Freya pushed herself up slowly, her knees aching and her lip still bleeding. Without another word, she turned and walked out. The guard followed closely behind.

As the door closed, the guard glanced at her briefly. There was something in his eyes—not cruelty or indifference, but pity. He knew she would not be able to finish in time. And if she failed, the punishment would be far worse.

Freya returned to the servants’ quarters in silence, where most of the maids were already asleep.

She moved to the storage corner where the buckets and clean towels were kept. After a brief hesitation, she picked up what she needed and fetched water from the well in the back courtyard. The cool night air brushed sharply against her bruised skin, and the wooden bucket felt heavier than usual.

Returning inside, she dipped her cloth into the water, wrung it out, and began to scrub.

The corridor stretched endlessly before her. Freya knelt and cleaned carefully, her movements steady at first. The sound of wet cloth against marble echoed softly in the quiet hall, broken only by the distant footsteps of guards on duty.

Time passed slowly, and her knees began to ache intensely. Her hands grew numb from the freezing water, and her strength gradually faded, but she forced herself to keep moving. The terrifying thought of the punishment kept her awake. Twenty lashes were enough to keep her going.

Still, the corridor never seemed to end. No matter how much she cleaned, there was always more ahead. She paused briefly, looking at the untouched stretch of the floor. She wasn’t even halfway done.

And beyond this corridor, there was still the kitchen and the grand throne hall. Her chest tightened with dread.

The Luna had never intended for her to finish.

Freya swallowed hard, pushing down the regret rising within her. *I shouldn’t have gone. I shouldn’t have served him.* Tears spilled silently from her eyes.

She dipped the cloth into the water again and continued. The night stretched on, cold and silent, but Freya did not stop.

The distant crow of a rooster broke the quiet. Dawn had arrived.

Freya lifted her head slightly, her hands trembling. Her body felt completely drained, her skin was pale from the cold, and her breathing was uneven. She had worked straight through the night, and still, it wasn’t enough. Her knees burned, and her arms felt like lead. Yet she continued to scrub.

Footsteps approached as the morning began. Maids entered the corridor, their voices low until they noticed her. Whispers spread quickly among them.

“She’s been here all night…”

“Look at her…”

Freya kept her gaze fixed on the floor and continued scrubbing until Neriah’s voice cut through the murmurs.

“Well… look at this.” Neriah stepped closer, her expression filled with satisfaction. “So the Luna’s punishment has begun. I wonder how long you’ll last.”

Freya remained silent.

“Maybe next time you’ll remember your place,” Neriah added with a scoff. “Pathetic.” She turned and walked away.

Moments later, another set of footsteps approached. “Freya…”

Freya turned her head slightly. Elira’s eyes widened in shock as she took in her condition. “What happened to you? You’ve been here all night…”

Freya gave a weak nod.

Elira quickly knelt beside her. “Let me help you-”

Freya shook her head. “No… go. I don't want you to get into trouble,” she said weakly. “Please.”

Before Elira could respond, the guard warned her coldly, “Step aside, unless you wish to share her punishment.”

Elira froze. After a moment, she slowly stood up, her face filled with helplessness. “I’ll come back,” she whispered.

Freya didn't answer. She simply lowered her head and continued cleaning as the morning light began to fill the corridor.

Luna Seraphine stepped out of her chamber just as the first rays of dawn spread across the palace. Her gaze swept over the corridor before settling on Freya, who was still kneeling and scrubbing.

A faint, cold smile appeared on the Luna's lips. “So,” she said calmly, “you failed.”

Freya’s hand stilled against the floor. Her breath was uneven, and her whole body trembled from pure exhaustion. “I… tried, My Luna—”

“Silence.” Luna didn’t raise her voice, yet the command carried enough authority to cut her off instantly. She turned to the guards. “Take her.”

Two guards stepped forward immediately, grabbing Freya by her arms and forcing her to stand. Her legs nearly gave out beneath her, but they dragged her forward without hesitation.

They led her out of the palace and into the open punishment grounds. At the center stood a tall wooden post, worn and stained from years of use—a place every member of the pack feared.

Freya’s heart pounded weakly as they tied her wrists tightly against the wood. The heavy rope dug into her skin as they secured her in place.

By now, a crowd had begun to gather. Guards stood at attention while maids clustered together in small groups. Whispers spread quickly through the crowd as all eyes turned to Freya.

Luna stepped forward, her presence silencing the murmurs almost instantly. “This woman attempted to seduce the Alpha’s heir,” she announced. “For that, she will receive twenty lashes of the wolfsbane-coated horsewhip.”

A ripple of shock passed through the crowd, and the whispers grew louder.

“Twenty? Wolfsbane?”

“That’s too much…”

“I thought men receive fifteen… and women, seven at most…”

Freya heard them, but she couldn’t respond. She barely had the strength left to stay standing.

Luna lifted her hand slightly. “Begin.”

The whip cut through the air with a sharp crack and struck her back.

Freya’s body jerked violently as a raw, uncontrolled cry escaped her lips. The pain burned through her instantly, stealing her breath away.

The second strike followed. Then the third. Each lash tore deeper, forcing another sob from her throat. Tears streamed down her face, her fingers tightening helplessly against the coarse ropes.

Elira stood among the maids, her hands trembling as she covered her mouth, tears falling silently down her cheeks. Not far away, Neriah watched with a faint, satisfied expression.

By the tenth lash, Freya’s strength had nearly given out entirely. Blood stained the back of her dress, her cries reduced to broken sobs as her body struggled to endure the agony.

Inside the palace, Prince Darius woke up and stepped out of his chamber, adjusting his clothes. As he walked down the hall, his sharp wolf hearing caught the voices of two maids gossiping nearby.

“Of all the men to seduce, why Prince Darius?” one asked.

The other replied, “I couldn’t even take five strikes of that whip before passing out.”

Prince Darius paused, his expression darkening as he turned toward them. “Come here.”

Startled, the maids stepped forward nervously. He demanded to know what they were talking about, and one stammered that Freya was currently being punished on the grounds.

Darius rushed outside to the punishment field and saw the horrific scene taking place. Furious, he tried to step in and stop his mother.

Luna Seraphine looked at him coldly and whispered, “Do you prefer having her executed? Better keep yourself in check.”

Darius clenched his fists and kept his mouth shut, forced to stand by helplessly.

Freya’s vision began to blur as another lash struck her torn back.

The pain no longer came in sharp bursts; it had settled deep into her bones. Her weakened body barely held on as she sagged feebly against the post, trembling under the excruciating weight of it all.

The sounds around her grew distant. The murmurs of the crowd, the whispers, and even the sharp crack of the whip drifted away. Her head fell forward weakly, and her legs went completely numb.

*Maybe… if I just close my eyes…* she thought faintly.

Her eyelids fluttered, and a deep darkness crept in.

The guard lifted the heavy whip high once again. But before it could fall-

“Stop!”

The guard froze mid-motion, and everyone in the crowd turned to see who had spoken.

Freya’s body trembled weakly as she lost consciousness.