The king sat alone in his chamber, a goblet of wine resting between his fingers. The fire burned low. The room was quiet in a way that only came after a long strain. For the first time in days, Drexo allowed himself stillness. Peace, even if temporary.
Then the door opened. Theon stepped in, and bowed. "Your Grace!"
Drexo looked up and smiled at once. Warm, and unreserved. "My brother," he said, rising slightly, "you have saved me a huge amount of stress."
Theon returned the smile. But it did not reach his eyes. He stepped forward, and exhaled. Something in that breath caught Drexo's attention. "What is it?" the king asked, lowering his cup.
Theon hesitated just a fraction. Then forced ease into his face. "Your Grace…" He shifted his weight. "Lady Frida is a very beautiful woman."
He paused.
"And merely looking at her face makes me want to have more to give to her."
Drexo's brows drew together, not in anger, but in confusion. "You already have enough," he said slowly. "You are my brother."
He stepped closer. "Everything I and my family enjoy…" A hand landed on Theon's shoulder. "…you enjoy it as well."
Theon smiled again: polite, and grateful, yet empty. "Thank you, Your Grace."
Then he breathed in, deeply like a man about to cross a line. "But I was wondering…" His voice lowered. "If I could be offered one of the Nine Kingdoms."
The words lingered. Sharp, and precise. "Especially one belonging to your enemies."
Silence stretched.
Drexo did not answer immediately. He studied him carefully. Something shifted behind his eyes. Something cautious.
Then he slowly shook his head. "I am sorry, Theon."
A beat.
"I cannot grant that request." The words struck clean. No hesitation, no softness. Just the truth.
Theon felt it land. He felt something inside him crack. But Drexo continued. "The thrones are not mine to give freely."
He moved away slightly. His hands behind his back. "They belong to bloodlines." He turned again. "Even if I conquer my enemies…" His voice carried weight. "…those lands must pass to those nearest in blood."
Theon stood still, very still. His heart pounded. But his face did not move. Drexo stepped forward again, and gripped both his shoulders.
Firm, and sincere.
"But you…" He looked directly into his eyes. "You will always stand beside me."
He paused.
"I will make you my prime minister.
Another pause.
"You will rule with me."
Theon bowed quickly. Too quickly. "Thank you, Your Grace." His voice was steady. "I am honoured."
Drexo smiled, believing his brother was grateful. They drank together after that. Wine passed, words were spoken. But something had already broken.
Theon laughed when needed. Nodded when required. Answered when called. But inside… Festus' voice returned. Cold, and relentless.
You will serve him, just as your parents served his parents.
Another voice followed sharply.
What happens when he no longer needs you? What will you pass to your children?
The questions echoed again, again, and again. Theon swallowed wine. But it did not drown them. It only made them louder.
At last he stood, and bowed once more, and left. The corridor felt colder than before. Each step was heavier. Each breath was tighter. By the time he reached his chamber, his restraint snapped. He shut the door hard, and turned. Then pressed his back against it with his eyes closed, and jaw clenched.
"It is clear…" His voice came out low, and bitter. "…he does not love me." He pushed off the door, and started pacing. "He only enjoys my service."
The words tasted like iron, his fist tightened, and his knuckles whitening. "I will side with those who are willing to offer me a throne."
That settled it. Not loudly, not dramatically. But firmly. Like a door closing inside him.
That evening, he sat at a small table. A single candle burned. The room dim. He took a parchment, and dipped the quill in ink.
For a moment, he paused. His hand did not move. "Once I cross this line, there will be no going back," he reminded himself. His hands remained on his chin for a while. Then it moved. Slow, yet deliberate. Each word sealing something deeper. When he finished, he folded it, and sealed it. Then rose.
Outside, the night wind howled faintly. He walked to the rookery, handed the letter to a raven, and watched as it took flight. Its black wings cut into darkness. He did not look away until it vanished.
By the next evening, far from Cliffland, a guard knocked at Frida's chamber. She opened the door herself. And the guard bowed. "A raven has arrived from Cliffland." He held out the note. "It is directed to you."
Frida stretched her hand, and took it. Then she dismissed him with a slight nod, and closed the door.
Then turned, and broke the seal..Her eyes moved across the words.
Once, then twice. Then she smiled. Slowly, and deliberately.
"He has refused me a crown. I am willing to side with the one who is willing to give me one."
Her lips parted just slightly. She knew the coin which she had flipped days earlier had turned in her favor. "The job is done." Her voice barely above a whisper. Then her eyes hardened. "Now we will watch Drexo die."
She did not waste time. Moments later she entered her father's chambers..Fabio sat with his sons. Maps spread, Wine untouched.
Frida placed the note on the table, and Fabio read it. Once, then leaned back. A slow breath left him. "It is done."
Festus smiled coldly. "Finally."
Felix remained quiet.
Watching, and thinking. A part of him doesn't like where the game is going. He knew blood of those he loved might spill, especially the blood of Helen, Maria Assistant, with whom he has a secret affair.
The room shifted. Energy sharpened..They began at once. Voices overlapping. Hands pointing across maps. Strategies forming. "How do we draw him out?"
"How do we strike clean?"
"How do we make it look like peace?"
Then Fabio raised a hand, and silence fell. "We proceed with the engagement.".He tapped the table once. "Frida and Theon.".His eyes gleamed. "We take it to Cliffland."
Friya's head snapped up. "And then what?" Her tone edged. "We walk into our enemy's fortress?"
Fabio nodded. Calm, and certain. "We are the only ones who know we are enemies."
A quiet followed. Uneasy, and dangerous.
Friya frowned. "What if they discover us?" Her voice lowered.."Is that not too dangerous?"
Fabio met her gaze, unblinking. "Yes."
A beat passed.
"But everything in life is a gamble.".He turned to the others. "I will go."
He paused. "My brother will go." Then turned to Frida. "And you."
Silence deepened.
"The rest of you remain." No argument came. Because they all understood what he was saying. If it failed, there would be no return.
Fabio folded his hands behind his back. "If we are caught…" A small breath. "…then it is fate."
No one spoke after that. Because the game had moved too far forward to turn back. And somewhere, far away in Cliffland, a king slept peacefully, unaware the war had already entered his home.