But Lord Fabio was not done. He lifted his hand, and the murmurs in the hall died at once. "However," he said, his voice carrying through stone and timber, "we have agreed to give our daughter, Frida Kenwool…"
He turned, and pointed at Theon. "…to you, Theon Kendrick, to be your wife." The words seemed to hang in the air before they landed.
Shock passed through the hall. Then another sentence followed. "And with this, House Kenwool returns to Drexo's cause."
A breathless pause.
"That is if you, Theon Kendrick will accept my offer."
Every eye turned to Theon. For a heartbeat he stood frozen. Then he slowly bowed.
Carefully.
As though the weight of the moment demanded ritual. When he raised his face, his eyes met Frida's. She smiled, not the distant smile she wore in the gardens. This one was warmer, possessive, and knowing.
Theon swallowed. "Of course…" His voice carried. "I accept your offer." The hall exploded, hands clapped, voices rose. Laughter thundered off the pillars.
The Cliffland lords looked almost drunk with relief. One embraced another. "We came fearing war," one whispered. "But we will leave with an alliance." Another laughed. "The gods favor us." Even Theon's own men looked stunned.
Fabio had rejected a crown, rejected command of the army, rejected everything. But had asked only for marriage not to the king himself, but to his best friend.
Too little, almost suspiciously little. But no one questioned fortune when it smiled.
At the edge of the hall, Frida watched Theon. His smile was there. But behind it, something troubled, something unfinished.
That night the castle quieted. Torches burned low.
Feasts faded.
And in his chamber, Theon stood by the window staring into darkness. His hand tightened over the sill. Fabio's words, Robert's cause, the oath.
It all coiled around him. "He made me swear…" He whispered to himself. "On the names of my gods." He shut his eyes.
The guilt stirred again, like a knife turning. Then he exhaled hard, and forced the thought away. "The gods will understand." He nodded as though convincing himself. "They know why I did it."
Then came a knock. Soft, and measured. His body tensed. "Who is there?" A voice answered. "Frida, my lord." His pulse shifted. He crossed the room and opened the door. She stood there in the moonlight, almost unreal.
Her smile widened. "What are you doing here?" She tilted her head. "If you do not mind…"
She paused.
"Come watch the sky with me." For a second he only stared. Then a faint smile touched his mouth. "After you."
She turned, and led him through sleeping corridors. Out beneath the open heavens. They settled beneath an old tree. The same stars above them.
Silver, and endless. Frida leaned back, gazing upward. "Now we are promised to each other." The words floated softly.
Theon nodded. "Yes, but I guess we have to wait for the official engagement ritual." She turned to him. "You do not look happy."
He forced a smile, maybe too quickly. "Maybe…" He looked away. "…because I am not a king or warden yet."
Frida studied him. Then said quietly, "You are already the Warden of Cliffland."
Theon froze. Turned sharply. "Your father told you?" She nodded. And her gaze held his.
Longer now, and deeper. "Now there are no restrictions."
He paused.
Her voice lowered. "Now I can love you." Then she leaned forward. And kissed him.
Theon stiffened in surprise. Only for a breath. Then his restraint gave way. He answered her kiss. All the hunger he had buried. All the ambition stirred in him.
All the loneliness burned at once. They moved closer. The night around them disappeared. There was only breath, Hands, and colliding Heartbeats.
The world narrowed, Frida touched his face, as if claiming something. Theon held her as though afraid she might vanish. And beneath the old tree, under witness of stars and gods, they surrendered to the moment.
No throne, no war, no oath, only desire. Only two souls tangled in dangerous comfort, and above them the stars watched in silence.
By the next morning, the sea wore a gray restless mood. Waves struck the shore in hard breaths, and gulls circled above the harbor as if they too sensed something unresolved.
Theon stood beside his men at the seashore, armored for departure, his hands clasped behind him. Fifty warriors moved about the ships, tightening ropes, checking sails, and loading provisions. It looked like a simple farewell.
But beneath the surface, too much trembled. Lord Fabio came down from the fortress with the members of his house beside him. Festus walked stiffly, eyes sharp.
Felix moved quieter, studying everything. Frida came last. She wore calm like a queen, But her eyes never left Theon, not once. She saw it still: the hesitation, and the split in him. His smile was there, yes. But she had felt his pulse the night before. He was a man standing on two roads. And not yet certain which one to walk.
Felix leaned close as they descended toward the shore. "He still looks troubled," he muttered. Frida's lips barely moved. "He is." Felix turned. "You know?" A faint smile touched her mouth. "His smiles are forced." She watched Theon laugh with one of his men: too loud, yet too brief.
Then his hand wiped sweat from his brow though the morning was cold. "And he sweats too easily."
Felix stared harder. Then he saw it. By the gods, she was right. His face tightened. "Then we must tell father."
Frida shook her head at once. "No."
Felix frowned. "No! Why?"
She looked at Theon again. "He loves me." There was dangerous certainty in her voice. "And he will come to our side."
Felix did not answer. He did not trust love as much as Frida did. But neither did he challenge her.
Down at the ships, farewells began. Fabio embraced Theon. Their arms met like allies. But both measured the other. "May the seas carry you safely," Fabio said.
Theon bowed. "And may peace remain between our houses."
Festus stepped forward. Gripped his forearm. A warrior's parting. Yet his eyes whispered warning.
Then Frida moved slowly, and deliberately. She walked closer while sailors filed into the ship. Theon turned to her, something softened in his face. For one dangerous moment all the politics vanished. There were only two lovers by the sea.
She lifted a hand, and placed it on his shoulder. Her fingers lingered. Then she leaned close. So close her lips brushed his ear. "I know you are not planning to betray your friend." The words slid in like a blade.
Theon's legs almost betrayed him. A tremor climbed through him. His breath caught. But she continued. "You are only pretending now because you fear for your life."
His throat dried. A sheen broke on his forehead. He forced a laugh: a thin one. "You… you should not accuse me so gravely."
Her smile widened: beautiful, but yet terrifying. "You can fool my father." She held his gaze. "But not me."
Silence stretched
The sea wind roared between them. Theon searched her face. No mockery. Only calm certainty. At last he whispered, "If you think so… why have you not told your father?"
Frida did not answer, not at first. She leaned forward, and kissed him.
Soft, and slow. Like a promise. Then she whispered, "Because I love you." Theon's chest tightened. "And I know you will do the right thing."
Theon exhaled sharply. Almost pained. "It can never be the right thing…" His voice lowered. "…to kill a brother."
Frida did not flinch. "Drexo is not your brother." The words hit hard. "And he does not care about you. To him, you are just another servant."
Theon stiffened. "That is a lie."
Her composure did not crack. "He cannot give you what my family has offered."
His jaw tightened. "You cannot be so sure." She stepped even closer. Their foreheads almost touched. "Then try it."
He froze.
"Ask Drexo for any of the nine kingdoms." Her eyes locked into his. "If he gives you one…"
He paused.
"…stand with him."
Theon swallowed hard. "But if he refuses…" Her voice became almost silk. "…stand with the one willing to give you what you deserve."
The words did not leave him, they entered him, and stayed.
His whole body vibrated like a man holding back collapse. He could hear his pulse, he could hear Drexo's laughter from childhood. He could hear Frida beneath the stars, he could hear ambition whisper.
For a moment he nearly spoke. He nearly confessed everything. Instead he turned abruptly. As though staying another second would strip away his defenses. "We may never see each other again." His voice cracked slightly.
Frida shook her head. No sadness, only certainty. "We will meet again." She smiled. "In a few weeks." Then softer. "If I did not believe that…" she paused. "…I would not have given you my virginity." The words struck him deeper than any sword.
He looked at her, really looked, and fear rose. Because part of him wanted to believe her. A part of him wanted the throne, wanted her, wanted everything the Kenwools has offered.
And that wanting frightened him. He moved suddenly. Fast, almost fleeing. He boarded the ship. He did not look back. "Move the ship!" A guard shouted. Oars dropped, wood groaned. The vessel began pulling away from shore.
Theon stood near the stern. Hands gripping rail. Eyes fixed ahead. Yet he felt her watching. Could almost feel her hand still on his shoulder.
Frida remained on the shore, still smiling at him, watching the ship cut into the sea. Beside her Felix stepped close. "What did you tell him?"
She tilted her head, almost amused. "I flipped a coin."
Felix frowned. She looked at the shrinking ship. Then smiled wider. "Let's see who wins."
She paused. "Me…" Her eyes narrowed toward the horizon. "…or Drexo."
Far at sea, Theon stood motionless. But inside him war had already begun. And the sea carried him home with treason whispering beside loyalty.