"Everyone out!" The deathly silence was broken by the King's disquieting voice. "Borgoth, please direct our guests to their chambers where they can stay until a decision is made."
Chief Butler nodded, indicating to the representatives to follow him. Queen Antonia took her children by the hand and, with a last black look at her husband, walked toward the exit.
"Not you, Freya," the King said, noticing his daughter walking after the rest as well.
Freya stopped mid-step. She wasn't sure if she had enough power in her to turn and face this brutal reality. For her, this whole situation was an abstraction, whereas for her father it was a decision that needed to be made. And it was killing her—knowing that the final say, the very ultimate verdict was for him to deliver. She couldn't possibly imagine how much of a burden it was to be the one whose one sentence could be that much meaningful.
Freya realized her fists were clenched. She knew her father was dead serious about this case and that there was certainly a lot of information she was missing. Maybe she didn't wholly understand the core of this conflict or the details of the threat, but at that very moment, she knew her fate. She had made her peace with it in the seconds following that realization. Now, she had to convince her father that her decision was the right one. Even though their hearts told them otherwise.
Finally, she turned.
"Freya—"
"Father—"
They both started talking at once. One glance was enough to send Freya to her father's arms. Her true home. In all life's ups and downs, he was her true tower of strength. The woman knew she didn't face many problems on a daily basis. She was provided with a roof over her head, hot meals, education, and most importantly, her father's selfless love. But at that moment, Freya felt her tiny world, which they both had painstakingly nurtured, fall apart. She needed his warmth, she needed his reassurance that everything would be okay. Even though it was a very deceptive feeling, she still needed, for a while, to just be a little girl in her father's arms.
"Freya, I can't ask that of you." Cradled up against her father, Freya couldn't see his face. But his voice was enough for her to know how shaken he was by the situation and how sincere his words were.
"Father, look at me..." She cupped his face in her hands. "You don't have to ask me anything. I know very well what needs to be done."
His eyes showed panic, an emotion Freya couldn't remember ever spotting on him in her life.
"You don't understand, darling. These people aren't who they might seem. No good awaits you in their hands. This new life... This life would be very cruel, my Freya."
"It doesn't matter now." She gently brushed her father's cheek with her thumb. "I need to do this. We can't risk another war. I may not have been born when the first one wreaked havoc, but I certainly won't be the cause of the next one." She was trying to sound confident even if she was far away from feeling it. Even though a single thought about her ice-hearted stepmother made her sick, the Queen was right about one thing. Freya could finally do something for her kingdom. And she was going to take this chance, no matter how hard and disgusting it seemed.
"You do realize that if you leave with them, you'll probably never come back? What would I do without you? How am I supposed to rule an entire kingdom without a piece of my heart?" There were tears in her father's eyes. She was close to tears too, but she couldn't afford to be weak. Freya had to be strong. For both of them. For the whole Carda. Apparently, that was the only thing she could do. And since there was no alternative, she was going to face it with her head held high.
"We'll both need to stay afloat somehow. I love you, Father, so, so much, but this is bigger than us. This is our kingdom, there are many lives at stake. We cannot act selfish now," she tried to give her father as much love as possible with her words.
She knew very well that the moment they shared wouldn't have happened if they hadn't been alone. Her father was a strong man, an excellent king, and very tough when necessary. But somehow Freya had always drawn out of him all the emotions he normally kept deep inside. Only with her did the king allow himself to be weak. She didn't understand why, but in the long run, it didn't actually matter. This made him, apart from being her father, also her best friend and it broke her heart to think that she would lose him forever.
The King chuckled through his tears.
"You're just like your mother," he muttered, patting her gently on the back.
Freya froze and looked at her old man in shock. "You never talk about her. Why now?"
"It's just impossible to stay quiet seeing you all grown up and turning out just like her. You two are so much alike. Starting from your appearance, ending at your personality traits like your courage, strength, and tendency to get into trouble..." His eyes showed a sea of emotions and somehow Freya knew that her father's thoughts were far away.
"Tell me more, please," she whispered, scared that if she was to be louder her father would change his mind.
The King got a peek at her, only to drift away again.
"She was breathtaking. I had to work hard to woo her, but I've never been more sure of anything in my life. She was worth every obstacle I had to overcome."
"What happened?"
Her father's lips quirked. "We just weren't meant to last."
"Who was she, dad? Why didn't you tell me about her earlier?"
"I made a promise that I would never tell anyone. That's the only reason they let me take you with me. I won't tell you, baby, I can't. Even now, when we have to part, I can't put you in any more danger." This time he stroked her cheek with his thumb, looking utterly miserable. Freya was a stubborn woman though. If she was to leave this place, she had to know more.
"What was her name? Surely it's not as dangerous so your own daughter cannot name her mother in her mind. Don't be cruel like that, please."
The King sighed, indicating that his walls, indeed, had started to melt. "Nefre. Your mother's name was Nefre."
There. He actually gave her something. And it wasn't some petty grain. It was one enormous piece of information—information she wasn't supposed to share with anyone, but nevertheless, a crucial one. Her mother had been given a name in her mind. A real name... A beautiful name.
"Why did you have to part? Why am I with you, not her?" Freya was digging deeper, taking advantage of her father's openness.
If her choice of words stung him, he didn't let himself show it. That was her father. Always careful to show what he felt. His gaze was distant. Freya was sure, he'd been living his past once again in his head.
"It wasn't supposed to be like this, you know. Even despite our differences, we were going to make it work. Raise you together. Create a family. Maybe even give you some siblings..." He stopped mid-sentence, realizing this part came into realization from his side. However hilariously amiss in the end. "It was a silly dream. So, so silly indeed."
Freya gently wiped away a single tear that appeared on her father's cheek. She was afraid to speak. She was afraid it would stop him. His story was heartbreaking, so miserably bitter, she wanted nothing more than to take his sorrow away. But she needed him to continue. She would have had no more opportunity to learn her origins. At least, the second part. So strange and unknown to her until now.
"A man nothing more than a scum killed her. My beautiful, fierce Nefre..." King's voice cracked. "I saw the act, having you in my arms. You were a few months old that day, not aware of a single thing happening and in how much danger you were at that point." His eyes focused on her tearful face. He was giving her everything at that moment. Everything that was essentially important. Everything she wanted from him. And she knew that he was giving her all of this for only one reason alone and it was love. Love for her, love for his former partner and love for their shared history—no matter how short-lived. Freya couldn't feel closer to him than at that very moment, as well as she couldn't feel more close to her mother. "After that, I was forced to fight for you. To take you with me and raise you as it has always should have been. I'm breaking my promise not to tell anyone by saying all of this today. But I need you to know. Now, I do understand that I cannot let you leave knowing absolutely nothing."
The king took her hand and kissed it as if trying to transfer all of his care into her heart by that mere gesture. "Sadly, I cannot tell you everything. You have to understand, that it's for your own safety as well as to keep everything you got to know today a secret known only to yourself. Promise me that."
Freya wasn't even going to deny him. Her promise. She knew that for her father, giving her a safe life was the most important thing. Now, when that wasn't possible any longer, he needed assurance that she wasn't going to jeopardize all of his efforts just by telling her family story to other people. She understood it. And she was going to give him that.
"I promise," she rasped, her throat tight.
Her father stood up, forcing her to follow him. He took her face into his hands. "Good," he said gently and laid a single kiss on her forehead. "I need you to do it for me. Try, at least, to be safe." His gaze focused on her eyes alone. "Don't let that foul mouth of yours be an end of you, my dear daughter."
Freya chuckled. "I can promise you a lot of things, father, including not telling anything I've learned today, but I cannot possibly promise you that this mouth of mine will be stoic and gentle. You know me far too well to demand it from me."
This time it was the king who chuckled.
"I know, Freya, I know. You could at least try though."
"That I can promise you," she gave him her brightest smile."I will try..." The young woman straightened, showing signs ofdetermination. "Now, Father, tell me everything you know about thesepeople and how can I make them return me to you."