Closing them. One by one. The sound of wood pressing into stone echoed louder than the drums inside her skull.
Her warriors were still laughing. Still drinking. Still eating.
But now dying and they did not even know it yet.
She sprang to her feet so fast her chair fell behind her. "Stop drinking!" Her voice tore through the hall.
The music faltered. Cups paused mid air. Laughter died. Every eye turned to face her.
Drexo stood immediately and rushed to her, his boots scraping against the stone floor. "Aunt," he said, holding her arm. "Are you alright?" His mouth oozed the smell of wine.
She grabbed his wrist hard.
"This is a set up," she cried.
His brows pulled together. "What are you talking about? Just calm down."
She pointed. Her finger trembled. "Why are their cups still filled up?"
The words fell into silence.
Drexo turned. His eyes moved from face to face. From cup to cup.
They were full, and untouched. His stomach dropped. Then he heard it. The sound of steel leaving its sheath.
Soft, yet deadly.
His eyes scan the hall, Friya was smiling, her eyes were fixed on his'. Drexo's heart thundered once again.
His head snapped toward the sound. Warriors stood. Not his warriors, but Kenwool's. Swords drawn.
His heart slammed violently against his ribs. This was a wedding. It was supposed to be sacred, and blessed. No swords should exist here.
"What is…" Before he could say those words, steel moved: Fast.
A blade plunged into the throat of one of his men. Blood sprayed across the table.
Another sword drove into the back. A scream tore the air.
Then another, and another.
Chaos exploded. Maria moved. The blade meant for her pierced only air.
She twisted.
Her hand caught the attacker's wrist. Her other hand seized his throat. She turned sharply.
A crack split the air.
His body collapsed.
Her eyes burned with rage. "What is the meaning of this," she growled. Her voice no longer carried warmth.
Only death.
"How dare you raise your sword against your king?"
Fabio stepped forward.
Laughing.
Slow, and calm.
"He is not my king." The words struck harder than any blade. Fabio's smile widened. "He stopped being my king the very day he broke the oath which he swore to my house and married you."
Maria's chest rose and fell. Drexo stared at him.
Fabio continued.
"A man who breaks his oath is not worthy of the golden crown of Astarous."
More men flooded into the hall, they were led by Prince Stanley Vangi, the son of Gregory Vangi, the late lord of Dorne.
Armor.
Swords.
Their Sigils carried the black stag of House Rendell.
"It is time for vengeance," Stanley roared.
Drexo's mouth went dry. "You sold me out?" he whispered.
Fabio's smile never left.
"Robert will make a better king than you," he said. "He doesn't break his oath."
"I was in love!" Drexo roared. His voice cracked the hall. "I broke the oath for love."
Fabio laughed again. This time, it was cold, and empty. "Love doesn't make kings. Alliance does."
"Love is the death of duty." He stepped closer. "And duty is what makes a good king, not love."
Drexo shook his head, and turned to Friya. "Please, talk to your father. We can stop this madness now."
Friya smiled. "You think I will truly let you dishonour me and go scot free?" She shook her head.
"I promise you everything," Drexo roared. "I promised you the crown of the queen, and even declare succession to your children."
Friya shook her head. "That wasn't enough. I do not share, and Robert gave me that."
Drexo's eyebrows furrowed. "Robert?" Friya smiled. "He is promised to me now."
Drexo felt a sharp headache. He just realised that the rebellion has been under his nose for a while without him sensing it. "You will all die for this."
Fabio raised his hand. His army surged forward. Blades fell. Drexo moved. His fist slammed into a Kendwool soldier's face. Bone shattered beneath his knuckles.
He caught the falling sword. Steel met steel. He cut.
Once.
Twice.
A throat opened. A chest split. Blood covered his hands. Covered his face.
Maria fought beside him. A blade pierced toward her. She deflected, and cut. The warrior fell and died.
They moved together. Like they had always done. Ten warriors fell.
Then another.
Then another.
Bodies covered the floor. For a moment hope flickered. For a moment it felt like he could win. Like he always had.
Like the legendary king who had never lost a single battle. A king who has won all three wars that he has charged.
Then he saw him.
Theon, his best friend, standing against him, with his sword raised.
Drexo froze. Not from exhaustion. Not from fear. But from disbelief.
His lips parted. "You too?" he whispered. The words barely existed. Tears filled his eyes. Memories flooded him. Two boys running through castle halls.
Training together. Bleeding together. Laughing together.
Brothers.
"You too?" he repeated. His voice broke. Tears fell freely now. "You sold me out?"
Theon's face twisted, not with anger, not with hatred, but with pity, and guilt.
His fingers trembled around the hilt of his blade. His jaw clenched. His eyes searched Drexo's face as if trying to memorize it. As if trying to hold on to something that was already gone.
For a moment, regret passed through him. Clear, and undeniable.
It softened his expression. Broke the hardness he had worn since the swords were drawn.
But it vanished just as quickly as it came. Because he knew. There was no turning back now. Not after the doors were closed. Not after the blood had been spilled. If he stopped now, he would belong nowhere.
Not to Drexo.
Not to Robert.
He would be nothing, but a traitor to both sides.
Drexo stepped closer.
Slow.
Careful.
Like approaching a wounded animal. "You are my brother," Drexo said. His voice cracked under the weight of memory.
"My parents took you in at a young age. Will you turn against that?"
Theon's eyes flickered. And something inside him snapped. "The King took me in," Theon shouted, "because my parents died in his war!"
The words hit like a hammer. His breathing grew heavier.
"And if I do not do something about it," he continued, his voice trembling with something deeper than anger, "I might also die in your war."
He paused and clenched his fist. Tears flowed down his eyes. "You never love me," he groaned. "You only enjoy my services, and that is all I can ever be to you, Your servant."
"No," Drexo screamed. "I took you as my brother and I love you."
Theon's jaw tightened. "Yet when I requested for a kingdom, you denied me."
It dawns on Drexo that he has been playing the dangerous game of crowns without being cautious. He remembered his father's words. "In the game of crowns, your most dangerous enemy is not the enemy holding a sword across the battlefield. It is the enemy who sits and eats at your table."
Silence swallowed the space between them.
Drexo shook his head slowly. Disbelief, and pain flooded his heart.
"No," Drexo said. He stepped closer again. Close enough to see the tears gathering in Theon's eyes. "Think about this," Drexo whispered. "Will anyone trust you for betraying…"
The words never finished. Theon moved fast. His arm drove forward. The blade sank into Drexo's defenceless chest.
"AAHHHHHHH"
A wet sound; soft, and final left Drexo's lips.
Drexo's body jerked. His eyes widened. His mouth opened. Blood spilled from his lips.
Warm, dark, and unstoppable.