Chapter 272: Second Lifetime, Freya. (18)
Seconoria.
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In the grand, opulent throne room of the royal palace, the air was thick with tension. Golden chandeliers hung from the high ceiling, their light casting a harsh glare upon the cold, marbled floor. The walls, adorned with tapestries of battles won and ancestors celebrated, seemed to close in, oppressive and unforgiving. At the far end of the room, seated upon an intricately carved throne, was King Salvadore, his visage a storm of fury and disappointment.
Freya, his daughter, stood before him, her elegant gown of sapphire blue now seeming dull and heavy with her despair. Her eyes, once bright with hope and defiance, were now shadowed with tears. The delicate beauty of her features was marred by the strain of her emotional turmoil, her hands trembling slightly as she clutched at the hem of her dress. Theodore’s arrest had thrown the entire court into upheaval, but the king’s reaction was the cruelest twist of all.
With a voice like thunder, King Salvadore’s accusation echoed through the chamber, each word a dagger aimed at his daughter’s heart. "You are nothing but a whore and an embarrassment to this kingdom!" he roared, his face flushed with rage. His eyes blazed with an intensity that made even the bravest tremble.
The words struck Freya like a physical blow. She flinched, her breath catching in her throat as the king’s disdainful words reverberated through her. Her eyes, bright with anger and hurt, met his with a mix of desperation and challenge. "Is this how you would react if I were a man? Are kings allowed concubines but a queen is condemned for her choices?" Her voice, though laden with pain, carried a sharp edge of defiance.
The king’s eyes widened with a mixture of shock and seething rage. For a moment, he was taken aback, his mouth opening and closing as though seeking words that would never come. The audacity of Freya’s question, the sheer bravery or perhaps folly of it, seemed to momentarily render him speechless. The room fell into an oppressive silence, punctuated only by the distant sound of a clock ticking, each second a reminder of the growing chasm between father and daughter.
"Will you kill him?" she asked, her voice heavy with sadness.
"Please do not father, I love him" she begged. "If you kill him, I would destroy this kingdom" she declared.
The king’s face contorted with a blend of fury and embarrassment, his pride wounded by the challenge to his authority. "Enough!" he bellowed, his voice trembling with the force of his emotions. "Lock her away in her chambers. I will not tolerate such insolence."
Freya’s heart sank as the guards stepped forward, their faces impassive as they approached her. The weight of her father’s decree settled heavily upon her shoulders, her defiant posture wilting under the gravity of his command. The sight of the guards, stern and unyielding, was a stark contrast to the fierce independence she had once known.