I Enslaved The Goddess Who Summoned Me

Nathan cut through the cool night air above Rome, his figure a silent shadow against the sprawling city lights below. The moon hung low, casting a pale silver glow over tiled rooftops and marble courtyards. On his shoulders, Elin clung to him with both hands, her grip tightening every time the wind rushed past her ears. She had no idea where he was taking her, only that every beat of his wings carried her farther from the safety of the familiar streets.

When Nathan finally descended, his boots touched down with feline grace atop the high stone walls enclosing one of Servilia’s private estates. The place loomed in the moonlight—an austere Roman property with manicured gardens and columns that cast long, dark shadows. He smiled faintly, his eyes scanning the structure as though confirming the prey was indeed in the snare.

“W…what is this place?” Elin’s voice trembled.

She did not like the way the night seemed to swallow the sounds around them, how isolated and still it felt. Her mind swirled with unease—she couldn’t guess why Nathan would bring her here, and part of her didn’t want to.

“Don’t you see? A house,” Nathan replied casually, his tone quiet but firm. “And keep your voice down. No one should hear you here.”

The words chilled her blood.

No one should hear her? Why would he say that? Her pulse quickened, dread curling in her stomach like a tightening rope.

“N…no, please!” Her instincts screamed. She began pounding her fists against his head and shoulders in a frantic attempt to break free, her legs kicking against his sides.

Nathan’s expression darkened. Without another word, he bent his knees and leapt high, soaring over the inner walls. They landed with a muted thud in the open atrium of the estate—a courtyard framed by white columns, the polished stone glistening under moonlight. Immediately, he set her down, one hand clamping over her mouth before she could make another sound.

“Hmff!” The muffled protest was all she could manage. Her eyes widened in fear as Nathan’s cold, unblinking stare bore into hers.

“I told you… no noises.” His voice was calm, but the edge in it made her shiver.

Tears welled in her eyes as she nodded, the fight in her limbs melting into reluctant compliance.

Only then did Nathan remove his hand.

“P…please, Septimius… I don’t know… I don’t want—” Elin’s words stumbled over each other. Her voice was fragile, almost pleading.

Somewhere in the haze of fear and confusion, she realized Nathan must have misunderstood something about her feelings. Yes, she respected him. Yes, she was grateful for what he had done for her and Freja. And yes she found him attractive…very attractive. But that didn’t mean she wanted… that. Not now. Not here. She wasn’t ready for anything like that, and the idea of it sent panic spiraling through her.

Nathan tilted his head slightly, his eyes narrowing in puzzlement.

“What do you mean, you don’t want to?”

Her heart hammered. Was he seriously asking that?

“I thought you would love it,” he said.

Wasn’t Elin a woman who loved helping and healing people?

He unfortunately didn’t get Elin’s huge twisted misunderstanding.

Love it? Elin’s cheeks flamed scarlet.

“I… I don’t!!!” she blurted, her voice rising despite her fear.

Nathan’s eyes hardened at her volume. He stepped toward her, but before another word could pass between them, a sharp voice sliced through the still night.

“You’re being too loud.”

Nathan turned, his expression cooling. Standing at the edge of the colonnade, Servilia emerged from the shadows like a queen surveying her domain. Her brow, hair framed her pale face, and her eyes—calm yet unyielding—fixed first on Nathan, then on Elin.

“Y…you are…” Elin’s voice caught in her throat. Servilia’s presence only deepened her confusion. What was she doing here with Nathan? The pairing seemed utterly bizarre.

“Did you send the guards away?” Nathan asked, as if her sudden appearance were perfectly expected.

“Yes,” Servilia replied smoothly, folding her arms across her chest. She regarded Elin with a measured, suspicious gaze. “Are you sure she’s trustworthy?”

Servilia already knew the tales—that the Heroes of Amun Ra had turned their allegiance to Caesar, forsaking Cleopatra. Trust was a rare commodity now, and she wasn’t about to hand it out freely, even more when she clearly had taken stance against Caesar from the moment she became allied with Nathan.

“She is,” Nathan answered simply. Without hesitation, he reached out, his hand closing around Elin’s arm to pull her closer.

“I… I don’t understand,” Elin whispered, still trying to make sense of any of this.

Nathan’s patience began to fray. “What is there not to understand? I brought you here to heal someone.” His tone was clipped, almost annoyed at her stubborn confusion.

“H…heal someone?” The words fell from her lips slowly, her mind replaying the sentence, piecing together the reality she had so utterly misjudged.

“Yes,” Nathan said before looking at her. “What else did you think I brought you here for?”

Her face burned hotter than ever. The embarrassment crashed over her in a wave so strong she wanted to sink into the marble floor and never resurface. How could she admit it—that she thought he had whisked her away under cover of darkness to force himself on her and have sex? It was mortifying beyond words, and the shame of it made her wish the night would simply swallow her whole.

Nathan didn’t linger on Elin’s flushed embarrassment, nor did he care to untangle whatever tangled thoughts she’d been having moments before. He simply turned and strode forward, his boots clicking against the cool marble floor.

“I need you to heal someone. If you can.” His tone was matter-of-fact, carrying neither urgency nor softness—just quiet command.

Servilia fell into step beside him, her sandals whispering over the stone. Her gaze drifted toward him, her voice breaking the silence with an almost careless observation.

“The Princess of Tenebria… hm. You seem to care a great deal for her.” The words slipped from her before she could decide whether or not they should.

“Yeah,” Nathan answered simply.

The blunt confirmation caught her off guard. She hadn’t expected him to acknowledge it, let alone so directly. But Ameriah was not like the others in Nathan’s life—she was neither one of his lovers nor someone caught in the orbit of his influence by chance. He had known her for nearly two years, since the day he was summoned to Tenebria. Yes, he cared for her. That was not something he would deny.

Nathan glanced sideways at Servilia. Her expression had shifted, her lips pressed in a thin line, her brow faintly creased. She looked… unsettled. He assumed it was the weight of her current choices—the risk of defying Caesar, the knowledge that her own son still idolized him. She was navigating dangerous waters, and perhaps the fear was beginning to creep in.

“You don’t have to worry about that,” he said, his voice low and steady. “I’ll keep you safe.”

Servilia’s throat tightened at the reassurance. She swallowed lightly, but the gesture didn’t dispel the strange warmth blooming in her chest.

Was he doing this on purpose? The quiet certainty in his tone, the almost effortless charm he seemed to radiate—it was a dangerous combination, especially for a woman in a vulnerable moment. Even knowing she should guard herself, she felt her defenses soften.

“…Thank you,” she murmured, her voice carrying an uncharacteristic shyness.

From behind, Elin watched them with a puzzled expression. The way they spoke to each other—how comfortable, how strangely personal it seemed—didn’t match what she knew of either of them. She kept her questions to herself but couldn’t help wondering when and how their paths had crossed closely enough to breed such familiarity.

They moved deeper into the estate, the torch-lit corridors gradually giving way to a cooler, damper passage as they descended a flight of worn stone steps. The air grew heavier here, the faint scent of earth and iron clinging to the walls. At last, they reached an underground chamber—a small cell room barred by a single heavy door.

Servilia stepped forward, keys in hand. The lock gave a low, reluctant groan before the door swung inward.

Inside, the dim light revealed two women. Ameriah lay on a narrow bed, her skin pale as ivory, her body trembling faintly beneath the thin blanket. Across the room, Auria rested on her own cot, her complexion healthier though fatigue still lingered in her eyes.

The moment Auria spotted Nathan, her eyes went wide. She swung her legs over the bed, rising so quickly she nearly stumbled before rushing to him.

“L…Lord Commander…” Her voice cracked, the words choked with relief.

“I’m not here to take you out yet,” Nathan told her evenly.

But Auria only shook her head, tears welling in her eyes. “I don’t care.”

Just the sight of him was enough. It was proof—proof that he hadn’t abandoned them, that escape was not a false hope.

Nathan inclined his head slightly toward Ameriah’s bed. “I brought someone to heal her.” His gaze fell on Elin.

Elin blinked, still taking in the scene. “Who… are they?” she asked hesitantly, her eyes flicking between the two captives.

“You don’t need to know,” Nathan replied. “Just heal her.”

He gestured toward Ameriah.

Elin moved closer, her steps cautious, until she was at Ameriah’s bedside. The sight made her heart squeeze—Ameriah’s breathing was shallow, her lips faintly blue, her whole frame shivering as if gripped by some unseen frost.

“Wh… what is that?” she asked, almost whispering.

“A curse,” Nathan said. “Can you heal her?”

“I… I’ll try.”

She lowered herself onto her knees beside the bed, placing a trembling hand just above Ameriah’s chest. Warmth began to gather in her palm, the familiar hum of divine energy answering her call. A soft, golden light blossomed against the darkness, spilling over Ameriah’s fragile form like liquid sunlight.

The glow thickened, wrapping her body in a cocoon of radiance, pushing back the pallid shadow of the curse inch by inch.

Ameriah’s brow furrowed faintly, the tension in her features deepening as a low groan escaped her lips. Elin’s golden light washed over her in gentle waves, yet the reaction was not one of relief—it was the grim stirring of something malignant being disturbed.

Elin gritted her teeth and kept going, her slender hands trembling as though she were channeling her very life into the spell. The glow from her palms shimmered brighter, its warmth filling the cold, damp air of the cell. But beneath it, there was a resistance—something thick, ancient, and stubborn.

Nathan could feel it even without touching her magic. This wasn’t an ordinary curse. The air itself seemed to thicken around Ameriah, carrying the faint scent of iron and ash. The malignancy clung to her like a second skin.

It was no surprise—it was the blood-curse of the Demon King, crafted by a god’s hand.

Minutes dragged on. Each one felt heavier than the last. Sweat beaded on Elin’s forehead, trickling down her temples, her breathing growing uneven. Yet she didn’t falter.

Five minutes… six… seven… her light fought against that black tide, gnawing away at it in painstaking increments. By the time ten long minutes had passed, Elin’s arms had begun to ache, her shoulders tight with strain.

At last, she pulled her hands back, the golden light receding like the tide withdrawing from the shore. She collapsed slightly onto her knees, her chest heaving with shallow breaths.

“Did you do it?” Nathan’s voice was calm, but his eyes searched her face intently.

“N… no…” She shook her head weakly. “I… I only managed a first treatment.” Her voice was so faint it was nearly a whisper.

Nathan’s gaze sharpened. “So you can remove it?”

Elin dragged the back of her sleeve across her forehead, smearing the sweat there. “I… I think so. I’ll need to do it a few more times, but…” she inhaled deeply, summoning what confidence she had left, “I believe I can remove it completely.”

Auria’s breath caught. “R… really?!” She stepped forward in a rush, her eyes wide with sudden hope.

“Um… yes,” Elin said, nodding faintly.

“Thank you!” Auria’s voice cracked as she bent to help Elin stand, her hands gentle yet urgent, as though Elin were made of porcelain.

Elin smiled at her, the strain in her face softening into something warmer. She was exhausted, but this… this was worth it.

Nathan’s lips curved faintly upward. The smile was subtle but unmistakable—one of quiet satisfaction. Truth be told, he had doubted Elin would be able to make any progress on a curse of this caliber. But she had proven herself, just as he suspected she might.

“Good,” he said simply. “Then I’ll bring you here every night.”

“E…Eh?!”