Lord Theodore's Favorite Ritual
Chapter 257: Second Lifetime, Freya. (3)

Chapter 257: Second Lifetime, Freya. (3)

Castle Arandelle.

Seconoria.

************

The dawn broke with a delicate blush across the sky, casting a golden hue on the towering stone walls of Castle Arandelle. Young Theodore stood at the grand gates, his heart pounding with a mix of excitement and trepidation. At fourteen, he was about to embark on the journey from squire to knight, a path filled with rigorous training and unwavering dedication.

The castle grounds were a bustling hub of activity, knights clad in gleaming armor practiced their swordsmanship while squires scurried about, tending to their duties. The clang of metal against metal and the spirited shouts of men in training filled the air, creating a symphony of disciplined chaos.

Theodore’s eyes shone with determination; he had one goal – to become a formidable knight and protect Princess Elara, the kingdom’s beloved jewel and his Gooseberry.

As Theodore stepped into the courtyard, he was greeted by Sir Alaric, a seasoned knight with a stern gaze and a heart of gold. Sir Alaric was to be his mentor, the one to mold him into a knight worthy of the title. "Welcome, Theodore," Sir Alaric said, his voice carrying the weight of authority and the warmth of encouragement. "Today, you begin your journey as a squire. It will be arduous, but I see a fire in your eyes. Hold on to that."

Theodore nodded, his resolve strengthening. The days that followed were grueling. He woke before the sun, his body aching from hours of relentless training. He learned to wield a sword with precision, his muscles burning as he repeated each movement until it became second nature. He practiced archery, his arrows finding their mark with increasing accuracy. He mastered the art of horse-riding, his bond with his steed growing stronger with each gallop across the fields.

Sir Alaric was a relentless teacher, pushing Theodore to his limits. "A knight must be more than a warrior," he often reminded him. "He must be a protector, a leader, and a symbol of hope." Under Sir Alaric’s watchful eye, Theodore studied the code of chivalry, memorizing each tenet and striving to embody them in his daily life. He learned the importance of honor, bravery, and compassion, traits that defined a true knight.

Years passed, and Theodore’s skills grew sharper. He participated in tournaments, his prowess earning him respect among his peers. Yet, it was his unwavering dedication to Princess Freya that drove him. He would often catch glimpses of her in the castle gardens, her presence a beacon of grace and kindness.

She moved with an ethereal elegance, her laughter a melody that lifted his spirits even in the toughest of times. Theodore’s heart swelled with a fierce desire to protect her, to be the shield that stood between her and any danger.

He watched how her father turned her into a weapon, a strict and troubled princess who he insists on treating as a boy instead of the girl that she is, she was always training too, and looked too tired to notice him but from the sides he prayed for her, to be strong enough and yet keep her feminine side no matter how much her father pushes her before he can rescue her.

The final test came when Theodore turned twenty-one. The castle prepared for the grand ceremony, a celebration that would see squires become knights. The night before, Theodore spent hours in prayer, seeking the strength to uphold the noble duty he was about to undertake. Clad in a white tunic and red robe, symbolizing purity and valor, he entered the great hall, where the king awaited.

King Alfred stood with a solemn expression, the weight of the kingdom upon his shoulders. "Theodore, son of John, step forward," he commanded. Theodore approached, his heart thundering in his chest. He knelt before the king, bowing his head in reverence. "Do you swear to uphold the code of chivalry, to protect the weak, and to serve your kingdom with honor?"

"I do," Theodore replied, his voice steady and resolute. To protect my Gooseberry from your greed.

With a nod, King Alden drew his sword, the blade gleaming under the chandelier’s light. He tapped Theodore on each shoulder, the gesture both symbolic and profound. "Rise, Sir Theodore," the king declared. "May you bring honor to your name and protect this realm with your life."

Sir Theodore rose, feeling the weight of the world upon his shoulders and the fire of purpose in his heart. As the ceremony concluded, he found himself gazing at Princess Freya, who watched him from the top, emotionless and blank, her shoulders tight and impentrable. In that moment, he vowed silently to be her guardian, her protector, and her loyal knight.

Theodore’s journey had been long and arduous, but as he stood in the great hall, he knew it was only the beginning. With Sir Alaric’s teachings etched in his soul and the image of Princess Freya in his heart, he was ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead, to become the knight he had always dreamed of being.

*

Meanwhile,

Princess Freya, daughter of King Alfred of Critoria, was born into a life of luxury and royalty but her father, a stern and demanding ruler after he snapped that day, imposed a rigorous training regimen upon her. King Alfred, having no sons and refusing to allow his kingdom to be ruled by a queen who exhibited what he considered to be the "weaknesses" of femininity, decided that Freya must be molded into a ruler of strength, resilience, and unyielding authority.

Freya’s days began before dawn. The first light of morning found her in the training yard, where she joined the knights of Critoria in their exercises. Her instructor, Sir Gareth, was the king’s most trusted warrior, known for his ruthlessness and unmatched skill in combat. He did not soften his approach for the princess; in fact, her status demanded that he push her harder than any squire or knight in training.

In the beginning she felt tortured and was horrified but her desire for her fathers approval reighned over all else and she grew into her training.

Under Sir Gareth’s watchful eye, Freya learned to wield a sword with precision and strength, her small hands blistered and calloused from countless hours of practice. Her muscles ached from the weight of armor, her skin often bruised from sparring sessions that left no room for error or leniency. Yet, she never complained. She met each challenge with a fierce determination that earned the grudging respect of her fellow trainees.

When the sun rose higher in the sky, Freya’s training shifted to include archery, hand-to-hand combat, and the art of strategy. She studied maps and battle tactics, learning to think like a general, to anticipate her enemy’s moves, and was ready to lead men into battle. Her mind was as sharp as her sword, her intellect honed alongside her physical prowess.

The seasons changed, but Freya’s routine did not. Winter’s biting cold and summer’s sweltering heat were mere backdrops to her unending pursuit of perfection. In the winter, she trained with snow crunching underfoot, her breath visible in the frigid air as she pushed her body to its limits. In summer, the scorching sun beat down on her, sweat pouring off her as she continued her relentless practice. Rain or shine, morning or night, there were no excuses, no respite.

The years passed, days turning into months, and months into years. Five years of relentless training transformed Freya from a young girl into a formidable warrior. Her once delicate frame became strong and agile. Her ocean blue eyes, once filled with the innocent wonder of childhood, now held the steely determination and wisdom of a seasoned leader.

Freya’s training was not only physical. She was taught diplomacy, the intricacies of court politics, and the art of negotiation. She learned to navigate the treacherous waters of royal intrigue, to wield words as effectively as weapons, and to maintain her composure in the face of adversity.

Despite the harshness of her upbringing, Freya’s spirit remained unbroken. Beneath the hardened exterior, she harbored a deep sense of duty and a fierce love for her people. She was not her father’s pawn she thought, but a leader in her own right, ready to take on the mantle of queenship with strength and compassion.

King Alfred, seeing the transformation in his daughter, could not deny the power and capability she possessed. Though his methods had been severe, they had forged Freya into a ruler who would command respect and loyalty. As she grew older and her strength grew, he looked upon his daughter not with the disdain he once held for her gender, but with a grudging admiration for the warrior queen she had become.

Princess Freya stood poised on the threshold of her destiny, ready to lead Critoria into a new era. She had been forged in the fires of relentless training, tempered by years of discipline and sacrifice. The feminine side that her father had sought to burn away had not disappeared but had blended with the strength and resilience of her spirit, creating a leader like no other.

Somedays she still wished to leave the castle walls to play but she stomps on the feeling faster than humans stomped on cockroaches.

As Freya grew like this Theodore was invisible to her but he was with her training to protect her even if from her side, he made a name for himself for his resilence and loyalty to the king, he became a formidable shadow of hers and the king noticed him.

But life couldn’t possibly go so smoothly, a change arouse.