"I'm home!"
Mathias slammed the door behind him with his foot, cringing and waiting for the arm that would surely reach out to grab his tie, and the calm, angry voice that would accompany it, scolding him for slamming the door again.
It never came.
He opened one eye, peeking into the dark house.
"Hello?" He called, setting the basket he held down. He had only been gone for an hour- did everyone leave?
He began walking around the house, looking for any sign of life. He saw a note from Iggiti explaining that he and Emil had gone to find something, and would be back tomorrow. That was normal, but he couldn't find Lukas or Freja anywhere. They weren't supposed to even leave the house, with the Alliance after them.
He searched all the rooms thoroughly, even lifting up one side of the couch to make sure that they hadn't shrunk themselves again. That had been one heck of a game of hide-and-seek.
It was only when he stopped in the kitchen to think that he heard it: a thud, followed by a high pitched scream that he had heard so many times during the viking age.
"Freja!"
He ran out the back door, just in time to see Lukas, arms bound behind his back, be literally thrown into an old-style, black SUV. Freja had one guard holding each of her arms, and she was using her legs to keep herself out of the car.
"Hey!"
Mathias started running towards his siblings' attackers. They struggled to get Freja in the car for just another moment, then decided it would be better to get away with one, rather than neither of them.
They threw her at Mathias, causing the both of them to fall. In the confusion, they slammed the door and jumped in, tires squealing as they speeded off.
Mathias gasped and ran after it, but Freja knew that it was no use. She even tried to slow it down using her magic, but it was no use- she was too tired. She sat on the ground, breathing hard, blonde hair falling into her eyes.
She heard a loud shot, and, looking up, she saw Mathias' leg crumple under him. His curses were audible from where she sat.
She ran over to him. "Mathias! Are you okay?"
"I'm fine," he muttered through gritted teeth, holding his leg.
Freja felt herself gag as a trail of red pushed itself through his fingers and down his pant leg.
"Ohh, I don't feel good," she held her mouth. "O-okay, stay calm. Um, I'm going to call for help."
Mathias stood up, groaning, and wiped his hand off on his shirt. "It's no big deal, I can clean it myself."
"No, you can't!" She had no choice but to follow the stubborn man as he traveled slowly back to the house. "You're going to bleed to death! Just sit down, and- Mathias!"
"Look, it's not my fault that you can't help this time," he suddenly snapped. "You're the one that can't stand the blood. I can, and I'm a grown a$$ man. You're just too weak, and I don't fu %!#& need you here."
Freja felt a stinging liquid pool in her eyes. Oh, if that was how he wanted to play his cards...
"You have no idea what that was like for me!" She stopped in front of him. "You have no idea! Forced to wait at home everyday, taking care of the younger boys, not knowing if any of you were ever going to come home from your bloodthirsty killing spree! And then I had to go out into the snow to search for your bodies when you didn't return! Think whatever you want, go ahead and think that you don't need me! But I assure you, you would not have made it this far had I not always been there to pick up the pieces."
She ran off into the house, probably crying. Mathias growled and continued limping to the back door. He wouldn't be surprised if she had locked him out, just to spite him.
'Women!' He sighed, exasperated, but then regained himself. 'That was a bit harsh... What happened to me? I guess I was just in a lot of pain. I'll go apologize when I get this cleaned up.'
He pushed the back door open. At least she didn't lock him out. He limped painfully over to the bathroom, taking out a first aid kit. He rested his leg on the toilet seat, then went to work extracting the bullet and cleaning it. When he was done, he left for the couch, not even bothering to clean up Emil's bathroom. He popped open a container of painkillers and ate one, resting on the couch.
"Oh, God..." he muttered, covering his face with his hands. "I'm so useless. I don't deserve to be the King of Northern Europe. Nor, I'm so sorry I couldn't help you..."
He sat in silence for another moment, relishing in the numbness in his leg, then began talking to Lukas again, who, of course, couldn't hear him.
"How am I supposed to come save you? It hurts to walk, and I can't use magic... I couldn't save you. Or stop Tino, or even Sve! Stupid Berwald¹."
He glanced at the hallway.
"Freja?"
He stood up and walked over to the door that hid the room that Freja was staying in. He knocked on the door.
"Frej? I'm sorry for yelling at you."
No response. Maybe she was asleep? He jiggled the doorknob, expecting it to be open. He immediately knew that something was wrong. She never locked anything. He pounded on the door.
"Frej?" He elbowed the door in frustration, figuring out that it wouldn't open. "Stupid Emil and his stupid unbreakable doors!"
He thought for a moment, then snapped his fingers. Emil always kept spare keys to all the rooms in his house in the kitchen. He ran, albeit awkwardly, to the kitchen and threw open the key drawer, grabbing the one labeled "F. Sørensen". He rushed back to her room and unlocked the door, praying that she was just sleeping.
She wasn't there.
1- Berwald Oxensternia, or Sweden
