The room is dead silent, so silent that Theo would be convinced he's alone if his eyes were closed. But here he stands, eyes wide open, staring in the fiery gaze of the Dark Lord, whose meeting he's just interrupted. Mattheo sits next to him, staring up at his best friend with the same intensity as the rest of the room while they all wait trepidatiously for an explanation.

Theo tilts his chin upwards in feigned confidence, not allowing the anxiety in his chest to waver his steeled gaze. Maybe the illusion of cool and collected while his heart threatens to beat out out of his rib-cage will get him the result he so desires.

Friend, friend, friend. The word runs through his mind as he thinks of what had set him off, of the assigned partner he had been told to marry, of the life he would be forced to live had he not spoken up to argue the cards he had been dealt.

But now, with the aid of his bleeding heart and running mouth, his life will go one of two ways.

Eternal happiness.

Or cut painfully short.

"I did not want Miss Riddle to be only my friend. I wanted her to be my wife."