Chapter 261: Second Lifetime, Freya. (7)
Seconoria.
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The grand dining hall of Seconoria Castle was a vision of elegance, with its high vaulted ceilings, sparkling chandeliers, and long, polished tables adorned with the finest silverware and crystal goblets. Yet, despite the grandeur surrounding her, Princess Freya felt a profound sense of loneliness and misery as she sat across from her betrothed, Prince Holland of Drakovia.
The prince, a tall and handsome figure, was the third son of King Reinhardt. His dark hair was neatly styled, and his attire was immaculate, but his demeanor was far from what Freya had expected. He was silent, too silent, and his eyes, though strikingly blue, held a distant, almost haunted look. It was as if he were trapped in his own world of sorrow, barely acknowledging her presence.
Freya forced a polite smile, trying to mask her discomfort. The silence between them was oppressive, and she longed to escape this formal charade. Her mind wandered to the days spent training in the open fields, the freedom she felt with a sword in her hand and the wind in her hair. But now, she was confined to the role of a demure princess, dressed in finery and expected to play her part in a political alliance that felt increasingly suffocating.
She looked around discreetly but Theodore was nowhere around and it made her chest squeeze somehow.
Determined to make the best of the situation, Freya attempted to initiate conversation. "Prince Holland," she began softly, her voice steady despite her inner turmoil, "how was your journey to Seconoria? I hope it was not too arduous."
Holland’s eyes flicked to hers, but there was no warmth in his gaze. He seemed to study her, as if trying to see through her façade. "The journey was fine," he replied, his voice low and devoid of emotion. "Thank you for asking."
Freya bit her lip, sensing the futility of her efforts but pressing on nonetheless. "I have heard that Drakovia is known for its beautiful landscapes. Do you enjoy riding or hunting in the forests there?"
Holland’s lips twitched into a semblance of a smile, but it did not reach his eyes. "Yes, I do. The forests are quite... serene," he said, his tone distant.
The conversation dwindled into silence once more, the space between them filled with unspoken words and heavy hearts. Freya felt a pang of empathy for the prince; he seemed as trapped in this arrangement as she was, his own misery mirroring her own. Yet, despite this shared sorrow, they were strangers, each bearing the weight of their kingdoms’ expectations.