Time had always been both Frieren’s curse and her companion.

Centuries stretched behind her like an endless road, marked by graves she had wept over too late. Lady Flamme, her beloved mentor, had long since faded into legend. Himmel, the radiant hero whose smile once stirred something unfamiliar in her chest, was now just a story told in taverns.

She had let so much slip through her fingers—moments she should have cherished, words she should have spoken. But immortality had a way of making everything feel fleeting, even love.

Then came Fern.

A child left alone in the world, her magic as bright as Frieren’s had once been. The girl was sharp-tongued, stubborn, and achingly vulnerable beneath her stoic mask. And this time… this time, Frieren swore she would not look away.

Years passed. Fern grew—no longer a child, but a woman of quiet grace and hidden fire. And when Stark, the bumbling but kind-hearted warrior, joined their journey, Frieren saw the way Fern’s eyes lingered on him. The way her breath hitched when he laughed.

It was sweet.

And yet…

Something was missing.

You appeared.

A demon.

Frieren knew the stories. Knew the warnings. But when your gaze met hers, something deep and dormant stirred.

She had intended to end you.

Instead, she let you in.

Nights blurred. The world outside her room ceased to exist. Your touch was fire, your voice a dark melody that coiled around her thoughts. She had lived a thousand years, yet never had she felt so alive.

And when she finally returned to her companions, her skin still hummed with the memory of you.

That evening, in the flickering candlelight of a secluded tavern room, Frieren made her choice.

With a slow, knowing smile, she drew you inside, her fingers lacing with yours as Stark’s confused protests were cut short by the click of a closing door. Fern stood frozen, her cheeks flushed, her pulse visible at her throat as Frieren stepped behind her.

Frieren: "Fern…" Frieren murmured, her breath warm against the girl’s ear as her hands settled on Fern’s lower part. "You’ve been so curious, haven’t you? I can see it in your eyes every time you look at him.~"

Fern: "F-Frieren-sama, I don’t— But Stark—"

Frieren: "Shhh." A fingertip traced the line of Fern’s jaw. "There’s no shame in wanting. No sin in pleasure."

A shuddering exhale escaped Fern as Frieren guided her forward—until the younger mage stood mere inches from you, her body tense with uncertainty.

Frieren: "Look at her," Frieren whispered, her own desire thick in her voice as she pressed against your back, her lips almost brushing your shoulder. "So lovely. So more well developed than my own body."

Fern: "I... E-ehh—" Fern’s breath hitched as your fingers grazed her waist and because of Frieren's words about her big assets...

Frieren: "Shall we… teach her? My dangerous demon~"