Morning came quietly over Snowland, but nothing about it felt gentle.
The sea beyond the cliffs rolled in long, steady waves, pale light stretching across its surface as ships were prepared at the harbor below. Men moved with purpose, their voices low, their armor catching the early sun in brief flashes. Orders were given, ropes tightened, sails checked and rechecked.
Edmond stood at the edge of it all, already dressed for the journey. His cloak shifted with the wind, but he did not seem to feel it. His gaze remained fixed on the ships, distant, as though what lay ahead demanded all of him and what lay behind had already begun to fade.
Warriors gathered. Elders followed. Banners of the Northern kingdoms lifted one after the other, colors cutting through the pale morning sky.
No one spoke of Maria. No one asked. And Edmond did not offer anything. When the ships finally pushed away from the shore, the sound of wood against water echoed faintly. Snowland grew smaller behind them, its cliffs slowly dissolving into mist.
Edmond did not look back. Deep beneath the castle, the air remained cold and still.
Time moved differently in the dungeon. Slower. Heavier. Each hour folding into the next without much to separate them.
Maria sat against the stone wall, her back straight despite the chill seeping through it. The dim light barely reached her, flickering just enough to outline her figure against the shadows.
Footsteps approached. She did not lift her head immediately. She already knew who it would be.
The door opened with a low creak, and Bianca stepped in, carrying a small tray. The scent of warm food briefly cut through the damp air, softening it.
Bianca moved closer, setting the tray down carefully before her. "You should eat," she said quietly.
Maria looked at the food, then at Bianca. There was no hesitation in her eyes. "I did what I did for the man I love," she said, her voice calm, steady in a way that felt almost unsettling in that place. "And I will do it again."
The words settled between them. Bianca did not respond. Not because she had nothing to say, but because nothing she could say would move what had already been decided inside Maria.
A faint movement at the doorway drew their attention.
Evelyn stood there, silent, her gaze shifting between them before she stepped in slowly. She said nothing as well, only watching, as though trying to understand something that refused to be explained.
Maria reached for the food, not hurried, not desperate. Just deliberate.
Bianca remained standing for a moment longer, her eyes lingering on her sister-in-law, searching for cracks that were not there.
Then she turned and left without another word. The door closed again. And the silence returned.
The sea stretched endlessly around them for days.
Wind filled the sails, pushing the fleet forward as the water shifted beneath them in steady rhythm. The journey was long, but not slow enough to quiet Edmond's thoughts.
He stood often at the edge of the deck, watching the horizon as it blurred into sky.
Three days passed like that. On the fourth, Kings' City rose in the distance.
Its walls stood tall against the coast, banners already visible even from afar, colors bright and alive with anticipation. Ships crowded the harbor, voices carrying across the water as preparations for the coronation reached their peak.
When Edmond stepped onto the dock, he was received immediately.
Councilors approached, their robes flowing, their expressions welcoming but measured. Words of greeting passed between them, formal, practiced.
But Edmond barely registered them. Because across the courtyard, someone else was already moving toward him.
Robert. There was no hesitation in his steps. No distance held.
The moment he reached Edmond, he pulled him into a firm embrace, his grip strong, his voice filled with something close to relief.
"We did it," Robert said, pulling back just enough to look at him, a smile breaking across his face.
Edmond's gaze dropped slightly. "I am sorry," he said, the words quieter, heavier. "I did not kill all of them. Because of my failure, Drexo escaped."
Robert shook his head immediately, dismissing it with a brief wave of his hand.
"No, my friend," he said, his tone steady, certain. "It was never your fault. Drexo was not even in the city when the attack happened."
He stepped closer again, his eyes locking onto Edmond's.
"We have done what mattered," Robert continued. "Their dragons are gone. Their army is broken. Drexo has no strength left to stand against us."
Edmond nodded slowly. There was logic in those words. But logic did not quiet everything.
"After your coronation," Edmond said, shifting slightly, "we will declare war on Cliffland. They will have a choice. Surrender him, or watch their city burn."
Robert studied him for a moment. Then he nodded. They embraced again, the motion firm, sealing something unspoken between them.
But as Robert pulled back, something else crossed his mind. His expression shifted slightly.
"Why is Maria not with you?" he asked, his voice softer now, but carrying weight. "My queen-to-be should be standing beside me at a time like this."
The name settled heavily in Edmond's chest. He exhaled, slow, controlled. "She did not come," he said.
His hand came up briefly, resting against Robert's shoulder. "After your coronation, we will talk of her."
Robert's brows drew together. "Is something wrong?" he asked, his tone sharpening with concern. "Is she well?"
Edmond forced a faint smile. "She is fine," he said. "We will discuss it after the coronation."
Robert held his gaze for a second longer, searching. Then he nodded. And the moment passed.
They turned, joining the other nobles, their voices blending into the growing noise of preparation.
The next day, Kings' City came alive. The streets filled before the sun had fully risen, people pouring in from every corner, their voices rising in excitement that carried through the entire city. Banners hung from every wall, colors bright, moving with the wind as though the city itself breathed with anticipation.
The palace arena overflowed. Commoners filled every space they could find, their voices lifting in waves, chanting, singing, calling out a single name again and again.
"Robert!"
"He is our liberator!" a woman shouted, her voice rising above the rest. "He freed us from Derion's cruelty!"
Others took it up, the words spreading, growing louder.
Children danced. Women laughed. Men raised their hands toward the platform where everything would soon unfold.
Then the trumpets sounded. The noise shifted instantly, folding into something sharper, more focused.
All eyes turned. Robert appeared. He moved with purpose, his royal robes flowing behind him, every step measured as he made his way forward. The weight of the moment rested on him, but he carried it without hesitation.
When he reached the center, he knelt.
The High Priestess stood before him, her presence commanding silence without effort. She lifted a small vessel, tilting it slowly as oil poured over Robert's head, glistening in the light.
A servant stepped forward, placing a torch in her hand. She circled it around him, the flame moving in careful arcs.
"By fire was Astarous forged," she said, her voice carrying across the arena, "and by fire it is bound in unity."
The torch lowered. Another object replaced it. Gold. "With gold is the throne sustained."
It fell away. Then a sword. "By the sword is the kingdom defended."
Each motion was precise. Each word deliberate.
She raised her hand. Lord William stepped forward, holding the crown.
It gleamed under the light, heavy with meaning. She took it. Her voice rose again.
"By the name of Ago, God of Fire, and Freya, God of men, and Olden, God of the Norsemen, and by Osonobruwhe, God of the Seiks."
The arena held its breath. "I declare you King Robert Rendell. First of his name. King of the Seiks, the First Men, and the Norsemen. Lord of the Nine Kingdoms of Astarous. Protector of the Realm."
The crown settled onto his head. And the world seemed to erupt. Cheers exploded from every direction, the sound crashing against the walls, rising into the sky like thunder.
"Rise, Your Grace," the Priestess said. Robert stood. The clerk's voice followed, loud and clear, carrying his titles across the arena as the people bowed.
But as Robert looked out over them, as he lifted his hand in acknowledgment, something in his expression did not fully match the celebration.
His eyes moved. Searching. As though expecting to find someone who was not there. The feast began soon after.
Food flowed. Drinks followed. Laughter returned to the air. Yet Robert moved through it all with a part of himself elsewhere.
Generals came forward one by one, kneeling, placing their swords at his feet, swearing loyalty.
Wardens followed. Voices rose in oath, each binding them tighter to his rule. Then Edmond stepped forward.
He lowered the Sword of Odin, placing it carefully before Robert. "By the name of Odin," he said, his voice firm, "I swear myself and the North to your cause."
Robert nodded. The moment passed, but the weight of it remained. And when the last oath had been given, when the ceremony finally settled into quiet, Robert turned slightly.
His gaze found Edmond again.."Come," he said..There was no celebration in his tone now. Only something sharper.."Let us speak about Maria."
The air between them shifted. And whatever had been waiting, could no longer be delayed.