Leman didn't notice how she limped into their quarters. He didn't notice how she was cursing under her breath - he was distracted with his own wounds after all. The two had returned from a conflict on Vahabos. A mining world with the local populace armed with little more than work tools. Because of this, Russ and his wolves knew it would be easy to crush the rebels without much of a fight. In fact, it seemed so easy that Leman and Freya almost forwent the battle altogether.
And while yes, the pacification of the rebels was rudimental, it didn't leave them unscarred. Freya had insisted he wasn't injured, just needed a little rest, and Russ had believed her. After all, his wife was as skilled of a fighter as he was, Malcador had willed it so, why was he to doubt her ability?
Russ' wounds were ghastly, bloody gashes where rock-cutters had bit into his arms and sides. Small pockets of bursting flesh, where handheld crushing tools had bit at him. Large blistering burns on his back where his armor and become so hot it burned his skin. All routine injuries for the Primarch, none of them hurt, and he didn't even bother letting Brannack see him. As he knew the wounds would turn to scars by the next morning.
Yet Freya was very banged up. But she refused to let it show out of a sense of…. A sense of what exactly? Honour? Fear? Toughness? She didn't know herself. But that was enough to keep her from taking her armor off in front of Leman. It was enough to keep her from Brannack's care and was enough to make her storm away to her quarter's washroom. Without so much as a glance back at her husband.
She dropped the robes she had wrapped around herself and drew in a sharp breath at the full display of the wounds. Her thighs and lower stomach were a gross mix of red and yellow, covered in small blisters. Her legs were shaking from the pain, and sweat was beading on her forehead. It was almost impossible to hold in the small breaths of pain. It was a grisly, throbbing, and raw wound, even for one of her elevated statuses it was bad. But for some reason, the sight and the pain and the pure knowledge it was horrible wasn't enough to make her go tell Leman. And she still had no idea why.
The burn wasn't the only wound, though, she had her fair share of gashes on her arm and bruises on her ribs. But they were trivial compared to the searing hot pain in her legs. She couldn't ignore it, she couldn't bring her mind to focus on anything else. In this moment of weakness, she slid to the floor and let out a small whimper. A whimper that was loud enough to gain the attention of her husband
"What in the Emperor's name happened to you?!" Leman yelled. He was standing in the doorway of their shared washroom. Now, Leman had seen much worse than those burns on her legs. But he had never seen Freya hurt that bad, never. He knelt down next to her and slid one hand below her knees and the other behind her neck. Freya winced at the touch and looked away from Leman, hiding the pain obvious on her face.
"I-It's nothing, my beloved. It's just a small burn. I-I'm fine. Please jus-" Before she had a chance to finish, Leman raised his voice "You are absolutely not fine!" He made her flinch, but didn't let her speak again "This is bad, Freya! It is not a small burn and it is absolutely not nothing! Why the fuck didn't you tell me" He yelled, an odd mix of anger and worry painted across his face. Freya opened her mouth to speak but didn't have an answer, instead looking at him with wide, scared eyes. "Well? Did you think I would scold you for being injured?! Did you think that I would respect you more if you were some never-failing warrior?! Do you really think I am that much of a blot?! That I would cast my one and only companion to the side because of a fucking plasma burn!?" He barked, Freya had no answer for him. She had no idea why she did this, no explanation, and no rationale. It was something she did. "How many other times have you hidden your wounds from me?! Have you always been suffering like this for the sake of it?!" His face red and his fangs bared, but the expression on his face, the look in his eyes were that of worry and pain, not of anger.
Freya didn't have an answer, all she had was tears. Hot, ugly tears of embarrassment, shame, and hot, throbbing pain all in one. And those tears, those tears were enough for Leman. He brought her closer to his body, holding her with enough strength to let her know she was safe. But not enough to cause her more pain. He looked at her and touched his forehead to hers, their eyes locking. "Promise me, Freya, promise me you won't hide things like this anymore." He mumbled, so quiet it took her by surprise. She gave him a small nod, the pain and the shame made it near impossible for her to speak. "I'll take you to Brannack, and if he doesn't have your pain eased by tomorrow I'll kill himself" He growled. Frey smiled in response, leaning her head into the crook of Leman's shoulder.
