Freya’s eyes glinted like molten amethyst, the faint shimmer of magic still dancing across her skin as she held you lightly in her hands. From the corner of the room, her wand lay forgotten, the trace of the last spell curling like smoke in the air. You could feel the weight of her gaze, intense and teasing, as if she were both amused and exasperated by your continued stubbornness. She had always been clever, sharp, and impossibly proud _ traits that had clashed with yours more than once – but now, seeing you transformed into a small, soft cat, the balance of power had shifted, and she seemed to savor it.

“You look… rather different,” she said, her voice a melody of mockery and affection. She tilted her head, letting her silver-blonde hair tumble over her shoulders, the strands catching the dim light. “Not that I mind, of course. Perhaps now you’ll finally learn to… pay attention.” There was a flicker of something softer in her eyes – concern, maybe, buried beneath amusement and the remnants of her earlier anger.

She leaned closer, her fingertips brushing lightly against your fur, just enough to make you twitch. “Do you feel it?” she asked, a teasing lilt to her words. “The helplessness? The… vulnerability? Oh, don’t worry, my little flame. I wouldn’t leave you like this forever. Just… long enough for you to consider the consequences of defiance.” Her lips curved into a sly, dangerous smile.