His head was riddled with pain.
Well, the pain from his soul being dumped into the body of the deuteragonist. And then his head smashing into something hard.
He sat dazed for a few minutes while the man called Bran looked at him with concern. He was familiar with this character in the book.
Bran had been one of his most loyal servants, but with an odd sense of loyalty. Bran wasn't loyal to Frey, but loyal to the household itself.
The Grey stone family.
"Master Frey? Are you alright?" Bran asked, he inched forward, wanting to check up on Frey for fear of him losing his mental state.
"Nah, I'm all left" Frey chuckled. It was a pun.
"Huh? Left?" Bran seems even more bothered.
"Master, did you hit your head a little too hard? What's all left?"
Frey looked at Bran for a moment, then burst out laughing.
Ahh, if only he could get reactions like this from Annie, or any other person really. They all just looked at him with disgust whenever he made jokes of the sort.
"I'm fine Bran, where am I?" Frey asked looking around.
Bran cocked his head to the side. "You don't remember?" He asked Frey.
"Geez, I don't Bran. Would you stop being an NPC and tell me what I need to know?" Frey sighed and felt the urge to simply leave the room in search of his answers.
But he thought it better to understand his situation first. He wasn't sure at what point he had been dropped in the book.
"NPC?" Bran took a step back, as though the word held any meaning to him.
"Master needs help" Bran said running away from the room.
Frey tried going after him in a rush, only then did he remember that his ankles were chained to the floorboards of the room.
Shit!
He pulled at them until he skinned his ankles and cursed repeatedly until Bran came back with another person. A woman this time. Older. More mature.
"Child, are you okay?" She walked up to Frey.
Frey didn't remember writing a character like her, but then again, once a story has been created, not all lives are influenced by the Author.
Some are created by cause and effect to balance the story out of there would be too few characters to make a story with. And the Author couldn't focus on every single character in his story.
Frey has come to understand this after much thinking.
"Yes I banged my head, and now I am in need of some TLC" Frey groaned out.
"TLC?" The woman looked at Frey concerned.
"Aahh, yes. Tender love and care" he grinned sheepishly.
Before Frey could react, the woman pulled out a wooden club from nowhere and smashed it into the side of Frey's head.
"Are you still in need of such?" She asked once more.
Frey groaned in pain. He knew who she was now.
Freya. His sister.
"No. Please I'm fine" he cried out. He's just being reincarnated, and now he was being abused?
What sort of device plot was this? So poorly written. Absolutely despicable.
"Have you spent enough time to regret your actions?" Freya asked him once more, she played with the club in her hands for him to see.
"Aahh, actions?" He stuttered.
"Of course, I do regret my actions, I'm willing to do better so as not to bring shame unto the family's name" Frey said out of character, it was the kind of thing you expect from the nobility.
But Freya smiled a dark smile. Too dark.
"Wait…" He began saying.
"Aahh, no take backs now, dear brother!" She threw the club to the wall.
And well, to my surprise, the club smashed and broke into splinters, leaving marks of collision on the wall. She brought out the keys and tossed them at me.
"Be ourselves in less than ten minutes… Or else" she stopped herself, thought a little bit and smiled while at it.
Frey was about to say something as stupid as 'Or else what?' but the ringing pain at the side of his head made him reconsider his limited options.
Freya left the room without so much as a glance. He still wasn't sure where exactly he was in his book. But he was sure.
He hadn't met Seth yet, nor had he even left his house. He was at the beginning of the book.
"Master is okay?" Bran asked looking pleased, but Frey gave him a stink eye.
"Fuck off. Snitch!" He hurriedly used the keys to unlock the chains that bound his ankles. He threw them off and stood up carefully, he would rather not smash his head into something again.
"Snitch?" Bran looked even more confused.
Frey was about to laugh, but his legs gave up on him. He fell to the ground like a crippled who had been forced to stand.
Aah, shit!
My legs, work Damn it!
"Master cannot move, master has been down where for seven days without food" Bran said as he looked down on Frey.
"S...seven days?" Frey shouted.
"Are you all humans or beasts? Seven days without food. Sweet Mother, what could I have possibly done to deserve such treatment?" He demanded from Bran.
Bran looked at him, his face shifting from concern to confusion. "It is the usual punishment Master" he said as though it were a normal thing to starve a human for seven days.
While chained up!
He sighed and looked at Bran, thinking of ways he could possibly use the submissive brute.
"Bran, you wouldn't mind carrying me on your back to meet my sister. Right?" Freya said to him, hopefully.
But Bran wasn't having it. He turned deeply.
"She will punish me" he said stubbornly.
"Don't worry, I'll put in a good word for you, you won't be punished" Frey lied, he hoped Freya would punish him certainly.
Unwillingly, Bran picked me up and carried me on my back out of the room, he took several twists and turns but eventually came out from the darkness that enveloped the underground prison hold.
He saw Freya from Bran's back, she held a wooden sword in her right hand while another stood by her side, pointed towards the ground.
She smiled darkly and looked at Frey.
"Hello brother" she pointed her wooden blade at him.
No, no no. Damn it all. Frey wanted to be anywhere but here because.
He knew exactly where he was in the story, and he regretted ever writing it.