Lord Theodore's Favorite Ritual
Chapter 272: Second Lifetime, Freya. (18)

Chapter 272: Second Lifetime, Freya. (18)

Seconoria.

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

In the grand, opulent throne room of the royal palace, the air was thick with tension. Golden chandeliers hung from the high ceiling, their light casting a harsh glare upon the cold, marbled floor. The walls, adorned with tapestries of battles won and ancestors celebrated, seemed to close in, oppressive and unforgiving. At the far end of the room, seated upon an intricately carved throne, was King Salvadore, his visage a storm of fury and disappointment.

Freya, his daughter, stood before him, her elegant gown of sapphire blue now seeming dull and heavy with her despair. Her eyes, once bright with hope and defiance, were now shadowed with tears. The delicate beauty of her features was marred by the strain of her emotional turmoil, her hands trembling slightly as she clutched at the hem of her dress. Theodore’s arrest had thrown the entire court into upheaval, but the king’s reaction was the cruelest twist of all.

With a voice like thunder, King Salvadore’s accusation echoed through the chamber, each word a dagger aimed at his daughter’s heart. "You are nothing but a whore and an embarrassment to this kingdom!" he roared, his face flushed with rage. His eyes blazed with an intensity that made even the bravest tremble.

The words struck Freya like a physical blow. She flinched, her breath catching in her throat as the king’s disdainful words reverberated through her. Her eyes, bright with anger and hurt, met his with a mix of desperation and challenge. "Is this how you would react if I were a man? Are kings allowed concubines but a queen is condemned for her choices?" Her voice, though laden with pain, carried a sharp edge of defiance.

The king’s eyes widened with a mixture of shock and seething rage. For a moment, he was taken aback, his mouth opening and closing as though seeking words that would never come. The audacity of Freya’s question, the sheer bravery or perhaps folly of it, seemed to momentarily render him speechless. The room fell into an oppressive silence, punctuated only by the distant sound of a clock ticking, each second a reminder of the growing chasm between father and daughter.

"Will you kill him?" she asked, her voice heavy with sadness.

"Please do not father, I love him" she begged. "If you kill him, I would destroy this kingdom" she declared.

The king’s face contorted with a blend of fury and embarrassment, his pride wounded by the challenge to his authority. "Enough!" he bellowed, his voice trembling with the force of his emotions. "Lock her away in her chambers. I will not tolerate such insolence."

Freya’s heart sank as the guards stepped forward, their faces impassive as they approached her. The weight of her father’s decree settled heavily upon her shoulders, her defiant posture wilting under the gravity of his command. The sight of the guards, stern and unyielding, was a stark contrast to the fierce independence she had once known.

Behind her, Queen Lydia stood in a shadowy corner, her posture hunched as though seeking to make herself as small as possible. Her gaze was fixed on the floor, her face pale and drawn. She was a silent witness to the scene unfolding before her, her eyes betraying a mixture of fear and sorrow. Her silence was a shroud of complicity, a tacit acceptance of her husband’s authority. The queen’s primary desire was to placate the king, even at the cost of her own child’s suffering. Her own heart was torn between her maternal instincts and her obligation to her husband, leaving her paralyzed and unable to offer Freya the comfort or support she so desperately needed.

As Freya was led away, her steps faltering, her heart ached with a profound sense of betrayal and isolation. The grandeur of the palace, once a symbol of security and power, now felt like a gilded cage, its splendor tainted by the harsh reality of her father’s contempt. The corridors, once familiar and comforting, now seemed endless and cold, each step echoing her despair.

In the solitude of her chambers, Freya collapsed onto the lavish bed, her sobs muffled by the silken pillows. The weight of her father’s scorn, the absence of her mother’s support, and the uncertainty of her future pressed down upon her with crushing force. The royal palace, with all its opulence, could offer no solace, only the stark reminder of a family divided by pride and power.

What is to be done now?

Is this the end?

*

* *

*

Dungeons.

Seconoria.

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

Connor strode through the dimly lit corridors of the dungeon, his heart heavy with worry for his friend. The air was damp and cold, a stark contrast to the warmth and camaraderie he shared with Theodore. As he approached the cell, the flickering torchlight cast long shadows on the stone walls, creating an eerie atmosphere.

"Theodore," he called softly, peering through the iron bars.

Theodore looked up from where he sat on the cold, stone floor. His face, though weary, lit up at the sight of his friend. "Connor," he greeted, rising to his feet. "I did not expect you so soon."

Connor tried to smile, but the worry in his eyes betrayed him. "I came as quickly as I could. How are you holding up?"

Theodore shrugged, attempting to appear nonchalant. "As well as one can in a place like this. It’s good to see a friendly face."

"So the princess, huh?" Connor smirked.

"Yeah, she is the love of my life," Theodore countered sincerely.

Connor grasped the bars, his knuckles white. "Theodore, I am scared for you. The king... he might have you beheaded for this. For loving Freya, for wanting her instead of just protecting her." Connor ran his hand through his brown hair, "He wanted more for her, only a prince is enough in his eyes, not a baron knight."

Yes.

Theodore’s expression grew serious. "I know the risks, Connor. But my feelings for Freya are real, and I couldn’t hide them any longer." He was born to love her, "If this is the price I have to pay, so be it. But there’s something more important we need to discuss."

Connor nodded, his heart aching for his friend. "What is it?"

"I need you to contact Holland," Theodore said urgently. "He needs to know what is happening. Freya is supposed to lead the next battle, but it is a suicide mission. We can not let her go. The king’s ambitions are clouding his judgment. Holland can help us protect her." he assured.

Connor’s eyes widened. "Holland? Do you think he’ll be able to intervene?"

He believed the man would want to take revenge on Theodore for making his betrothed fall in love.

"He has to," Theodore replied, his voice firm. "He understands the stakes. He is seen the way Freya and I feel about each other. He will not stand idly by. And you, Connor, you need to be her shield while I am locked away here. Promise me you will protect her."

Not to let her go astray.

Connor’s throat tightened with emotion. "I promise, Theodore. I will do everything in my power to keep her safe."

Theodore placed a hand on his friend’s shoulder through the bars. "Thank you, Connor. Your loyalty means the world to me. We have to believe that love and loyalty can overcome the king’s harsh edicts."

He is too greedy just like in the first life.

Connor nodded, determined. "I will leave for Holland immediately. And I shall stay by Freya’s side. We shall find a way to stop this madness and save you."

Theodore smiled, a glimmer of hope in his eyes. "We will. Together, we will find a way."

As Connor turned to leave, his heart ached with the weight of their situation, but he felt a renewed sense of purpose. He would not let his friend down, and he would not let Freya face the perils ahead alone. The bond of friendship and love would guide them through the darkness, toward a brighter future.

Theodore took a deep breath and wonder if he could and should try escaping but he could never leave Freya. Never.

With Gooseberry it was forever until death do us part.