The pain is…excruciating.
He would have expected nothing less, from her.
"The boiling blood I added myself," she's telling him now, tilting her chin, taunting him with that damn smirk of hers, and Lucien supposes congratulations would be in order – it is an impressive spell – if he weren't so distracted by the sensation of his body being incinerated from the inside out.
He grinds his knees into the floor, attempting to combat the magic in Freya's sigil as it wrenches his spine at unnatural angles, ripping another snarl out from somewhere deep in his throat. But his struggles prove of little use, and the sight of her crouched before him, looking intensely pleased with herself, only inflames him further.
In that moment, he doesn't know which he wants more – to fuck her, or to kill her.
Of course, he's hardly at liberty to pursue either option until he's free of her sodding spell, and the longer her power runs unchecked through his body, the hungrier he grows for her blood, in whatever way he can have it.
Thank God for those batty ancestors, and for their devotion to a mutual cause, working to rid New Orleans of the last of the Original vermin.
Freya's magic leaks from his system inch by blessed inch, and as he stands in a languid stretch of limbs, letting loose a breathless, growling chuckle, the darling witch's smile begins to fall.
But she'd promised him more than just a few tricks up her sleeve, and oh does Freya deliver. The ruptured aneurysm is an exquisite touch, to be certain, but the real treat comes when she summons not one, not two, but an entire room full of Strix for him to maim and destroy, tossing them sideways, tearing them from limb to limb as though they were but an army of rag dolls.
"Is that the best you've got?" he scoffs, gesturing about the glorious ruin at his feet, all but beaming as Freya rises to the challenge. The feel of his ribcage cracking open at the will of her fingertips, the surface of his heart beginning to bleed through before the ancestors right this wrong as well, is one he won't soon forget.
Nor is the look on Freya's face when she comes to understand that, truly, little else stands between them now. With the regrettable exception of her detestable brother, who has other ideas for how he'd like this afternoon to play out, and Lucien eventually untangles himself from the festival banners to find the both of them gone.
Oh, he is going to enjoy it immensely, the moment he finally catches up with that little minx.
A|N: short but (hopefully) sweet :)? I've been dying over the lack of Freya/Lucien in the most recent episodes, and this was my way of trying to fix it. Let me know what you think!