The Crowned Captive
A Court of Harrowing Halfwits

King Victor had not left any room for the court to forget who he was, and who she was to him. He wore a deep red tunic to match the colour of her dress, golden dragons embroidered over the velvet. Morana watched them entranced, crawling over his clothes as if alive. The golden crown that sat atop his head must have weighed a tonne being crafted in the figure of two golden dragons breathing flames around the circlet, studded with rubies for scales and diamonds for eyes. Morana tried to keep the look of shock from her face as she curtsied as deep as she dared in her dress. The amusement that flittered across the king’s face told her that she had done a poor job.

“Your Majesty, we are here as you requested,” Rowan said as he straightened. There was no demanding like she had seen last night. He was once again the perfect subject, ready to follow his king’s every order.

“I want the full story from last night, including what you got from the spy, Rowan. And I want you to speak up if there are any inaccuracies,” the king replied, levelling his gaze on Morana. She shifted uncomfortably in her chair but said nothing else as Rowan began the story.

Unfortunately for her, Rowan did not leave out a single detail. He included how he had asked her to strip naked and then had given her a massage, and included that he had left her there naked and without her manacles. Morana’s embarrassed flush turned to chills as Rowan explained in excruciating detail what he had heard and then done to the two Rebels outside the walls. And then he described exactly how he had run to her cell as fast as he could, ignoring the guards that had fallen to reach her and save her. Thankfully, he left out the sea of blood, seeming to think it was implied.

“As for the seer, he is still alive and somewhat sane in the dungeons. It took me three hours to learn his name and standing under the leader of the Rebellion, and he is already in a rather messy state. My anger got the better of me, so I left him to stew with the threat to burn off his cock if he didn’t give us anything more useful,” Rowan finished, and Morana felt herself shiver. Suddenly she could think of nothing other than the hands that had caressed her so sweetly that morning had been used for such darker things last night.

“Very well. Take Morana down with you next time to see if she can aid in loosening his tongue, or at least for education. If she is to join us, she should know what we have to do to protect the people and the crown.”

“As you wish, Your Majesty.” Rowan’s voice was tight as he replied, but Morana knew there would be no fight. Her stomach curdled at the thought.

“If that was the sequence of events, then I have no qualms in all details being spilled. The spy has been identified and I have my others working on them now. Let the council see all, and that your princess is not a target worth attacking. They will also see the consequences for the shortcomings of those under my command.”

Morana turned to Rowan at the last part, confused at the king’s meaning. As she watched, Rowan’s face dropped from a cool impassiveness to a dark scowl. He swallowed, looked away for a second and then nodded. Morana had no clue what was to come as the king stood. A wave of dark power washed over her, a crushing pressure coming with it. She gasped and looked to Rowan. His face contorted as she watched, veins popping in his forehead as he gritted his teeth. She looked between the king and him, frozen as he slid from the chair, unable to control himself, and then reached out as if to save him. She hissed as she felt the agony pour off of him, and her mind immediately took her to her near death in the forest. Tears threatened her eyes as she looked down at her contorted captor soldiering through his cruel punishment. She could do nothing but watch.

It was a long minute, with Morana on the brink of begging for mercy for him, before Rowan finally collapsed to the ground, gasping. She reached out for him once more, his skin clammy now. No more pain wracked her hand as she touched him, but he flinched away from her. She looked up to the king then, who was impassive, finishing his glass of liquor as he waited for his ever-loyal subject to right himself so they could leave. A few seconds of gasping later, Rowan pulled himself up on shaky legs and then bowed to the king. Shock flashed in Morana’s eyes, but King Victor only nodded, making his move to leave.

Rowan offered his arm once more to Morana as they left, choosing not to look at her as if she hadn’t just witnessed his agony. But as he made no move to talk about it or even acknowledge it, she chose to put the thought from her head for now. She would bring it up after she survived whatever awaited her at the chambers.

The guards that escorted them parted and allowed them through as the council chamber doors loomed. All eyes fell onto Morana as she tailed the king, a slightly pale Rowan still on her arm. Murmurs followed them as everyone stood and bowed simultaneously, but Morana pushed them from her mind. As they seated themselves, Rowan beside her, she noticed that eyes fell on him too. Her brows furrowed at that, but she did not dare speak now.

As some form of royal squire sounded their entrance, naming Morana with her title and houses, murmurs spread through the crowd. She did not know what she had expected of her announcement to the people, but this seemed far tamer. She was glad about it.

“As many of you are already aware, the castle was infiltrated last night due to treachery and trickery. An attempt was made on our princess, to capture her and use her for whatever nefarious needs the Rebellion has. Due to the quick thinking of Lord Rowan Greenfeld, our princess remains unharmed and we have two captives in custody. We are here to speak of how to move forward from here.”

The council erupted into chaos, a cacophony of voices. This, this unruly display, was more than what she expected from the people. The King’s mask of impassiveness did not change as he raised his hand after a moment, and silence immediately fell once more. Morana wondered how many times he had needed to dole out his consequences before people listened to that signal.

She already was lost in the conversation as so many stood and questioned her legitimacy, her history, and her role in the attack. Rowan responded mostly, with alarmingly accurate details from her past that she had never told him. She merely sat and watched as her very identity was picked apart before her.

“How do we know that she didn’t entice the Rebels in to get her away?” Someone yelled from the far left corner. Morana attempted to copy the King’s impassive mask as she found the face. “How do we even know that isn’t where she came from?”

“Her identity has been verified. She was caught naked and asleep, Lorcan. Do you really think that is how a captive would be found if her escape had been even slightly planned?” Rowan called out from beside her, and she felt herself flush despite her trying to school her emotions into complete calm.

“I really must teach you how to control your facial expressions,” Rowan said under his breath as murmurs spread throughout the crowd again. Morana tried her hardest not to react, but the snicker Rowan let out meant she probably did a poor job.

“Why keep her around if it puts the rest of us in so much danger? What purpose does she pose except to bring in Rebel spies?”The man, Lorcan, called again. Rowan placed a steadying hand on Morana’s forearm as she stiffened at the accusation.

“You dare question why the blood of the Crown should remain within the court? I thought you better,” the king boomed.

“Is she truly your blood, or your traitor wife’s? Does her blood mean anything when she was raised by filthy humans in some backwater village?”

Morana’s blood chilled at the insult, and she felt Rowan’s hand tighten on hers. He tapped, twice, but she ignored him.

“I have never known my true mother to be trained by her cunning, and I was never accepted by humans. I have been looked down upon or persecuted my whole life for being something other than human. I am of pure elven lineage. If you wish to take my position away from me or deny the blood that runs through my veins because you are scared, speak more plainly.”

Morana held her chin high as she stared down at the plump fae man with Rowan’s hand still tight on her arm. As the man’s face reddened, she felt herself smirk. With a touch of surprise, Morana felt Rowan tap once against her arm, and the conversation was quickly swept away from her.

The arguments continued for what felt like hours, each one asking why Morana could just disappear to fix the issue, although no more questioned her bloodline. Her mood darkened with each implied insult. Finally, enough people seemed to understand that was not an option, that other suggestions finally arose. By the end of a gruelling three hours, Morana’s head hurt, she felt utterly rejected and hated by the people she may one day have to rule, and the only solution they had come to was to increase the guards. The entire time, the other fae had scowled at her, despondent at her existence. The king finally waved his hand over the room, ordering everyone out as he scowled atop his throne.

“You did well today. It was foolhardy to speak against them so quickly, but it was accepted,” Rowan encouraged as he led her through the halls. The words washed over her, her body too pent up with the weight of their disapproval and her anger. “If it is time for you to begin joining the court, we will have to go further in-depth with court etiquette. And I will be finding you a magic tutor. And I want to add afternoon sessions for training as well.”

“I get it, Rowan, I am not good enough for the court,” Morana replied, frowning.

“That isn’t what I meant. The hand you have been dealt in life has put you at a disadvantage, but that is fixable.”

“I don’t want to be fixed, Rowan! I want to be free. I want to be free of my fear, free of my restrictions, free of the damned expectations of a court I never wanted! All I have gotten in these past weeks is more and more chains laid upon me.“

Rowan stared at her for a long second, assessing her heaving chest as she finished her tirade. Then he simply turned, leading her outside. The training field was empty and the evening sun already sinking below the horizon as they emerged.

“You want to be free, Morana? Five minutes, do what you can.”

She stared at him, shocked for a moment. Then she decided that she did not have enough time for questions.

Morana shucked her damn heels, and she ran.

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