The Crowned Captive
The Betrothed and the Betrayed

How Rowan had managed to navigate that mess without his balls ending up on the chopping block was a mystery. He was not complaining, though, not as he silently slipped through the castle doors with his princess safe and sated in his arms. He looked down at her then, her softly smiling up at him with the evidence of their coupling covering the skin of her neck. He wished that image could be imprinted in his mind forever. Alas, if the king saw her walking around like this, he would have worse on the chopping block.

No words were spoken as he passed the guard to deposit Morana back in her rooms, though he knew they would piece together exactly what happened. Much to his surprise, Cordan still stood in the hall despite the wounds he had been dealt. Rowan sneered at him as he passed, his only regret being that his sword had missed his eye. Even now, despite Cordan’s healing abilities, a thin pink line sat against his skin. Unfortunately, it would be gone by morning, and the fool would have nothing to remind him of his lesson. Cordan did not look at Rowan’s face though. His eyes rested on the princess in his arms, curled against his chest and oblivious of her surroundings. At the sight of the bruises and cut against her neck, rage rolled off him in waves. Icy calm, he did nothing as she was whisked from his sight.

Knowing ignoring him now would cause him more distress, Rowan did just that. Ever so gently, he laid his princess down on her bed, revelling in the feel of her reaching out to him even when she was so exhausted. With a chuckle, he laid down beside her, nipping at her already bruised neck with his fangs once more. His heart rate immediately spiked as she gasped beside him.

“You are incessant,” she chided, and Rowan laughed once more. She made him incessant. He did not remember ever wanting anybody more.

“You are one of the most beautiful women I have ever laid eyes on, Morana. I am sorry I cannot resist your charms,” he murmured against her skin, then went straight back to leaving a trail of kisses along her throat.

“So you do know how to compliment someone,” she replied with an airy laugh, struggling to maintain her train of thought beneath him. “Rowan, please, let me talk.”

With great reluctance, he sat back and stared down at her. Her eyes were bright despite her heavy eyelids, her skin flushed once more. As she moved to straighten herself in bed, he saw her hiss in pain, and his grin widened for it, knowing its cause. He would heal all of her aches and pains later, but for now, they would remain for his enjoyment.

“You didn’t hurt Cordan too badly before, did you?”

His grin fell from his face at the name. “Not badly enough. He will heal without permanent damage.”

“Thank you, Rowan. I don’t like the thought of you two hurting each other over me. Not when you used to be so close,” Morana said, her voice tinged with sadness. Rowan was glad he could not see the distaste on his face. “Were you honest back there? You truly do care about me, not just a chance at the throne?”

His heart flopped in his chest, but he nodded down to her. “I truly care about you, Morana, I swear it,” he murmured, planting a reassuring kiss on her forehead.

She smiled up at him, simply laying in his arms for a time before she spoke next. “Do elves marry like humans, or are the customs different?”

The question shocked Rowan, and he had to blink a few times before his brain would process it and the meaning behind it. After such an argument so recently, was she really considering a betrothal? Despite all that had gone on between them? He shook his head, unbelieving.

“The customs are very different. As you know, the fae are not prudish people. Whilst each type of fae has different nuances, the customs are mostly the same. Sex is not spared until marriage but is a sacred act between close friends whilst we are young. Our betrothal is different, too, with neither wearing rings until after the marriage ceremony. Instead, a great feast is held at the betrothal, signalling the joining of two families. Each family member brings a gift for both the bride and the groom, and those are used to start their life together. After some time, usually a year or two of living as a couple, the actual marriage ceremony is performed. Rings are exchanged, as well as vows and magic bindings. Runes are tattooed into the skin that can never be removed, even if a couple decides to part. Whilst considered archaic for many now, some also choose to mark their partner, leaving the scar of their bite just here,” Rowan explained, brushing his fingers over the bruise he had left earlier that night. Morana shivered under his touch.

“Do you want to mark me like that, Rowan?” She asked, her eyes doe-like with fear and trepidation. Rowan’s grin widened at that, and he felt his need building once more.

“There is nothing more I would like in the world than to see my mark against your pretty little throat,” he growled, leaning down and placing his teeth over the bruise once more. Unable to help himself, he bit down hard enough that his fangs just broke that paper-thin skin. The whimper she released at the pain of it had him ready once more, yet he sat back. The scent of her arousal was aphrodisiacal, the sight of her flushed skin and rapidly rising chest threatening to send him into madness, but he allowed her time to regain her sense.

“When do fae usually get betrothed? After how long?”

Gods be damned, he was taking her again tonight. The aching longing for her touch was too much. He did not care how careful he had to be, how gentle and tender. She was his, ready to be so in name too, and nothing made him want her more.

“It depends on the couple. For some, it is many years before they decide. For others, especially mates, it can be as little as weeks. Why do you ask, princess? Do you have your eye on someone?”

“Nobody in particular,” she replied, rolling her eyes. “How do you know if somebody is your mate?”

“It is a bond between two people, like a tether that binds their souls. Chosen by the gods for one reason or another, apparently. The bonds are rare, so rare that many go lifetimes without finding their mate, but when they do it is world-changing. Without their mate, it is as if there is a part of them missing, a gaping whole they can’t seem to plug I am told. But back to the betrothal, would you really say yes, princess?”

“That is a rather lame way of asking somebody to agree to potentially spend the rest of their immortal lives with you, Rowan.”

Without hesitation, Rowan slid off the bed and knelt beside it, grasping Morana’s hands in his own. His heart thundered in his chest, the promise of his crown so close within his grasp as well as the type of woman he could only dream of. Slowly, never breaking eye contact with her, he leant down and placed a kiss against her palm, and then her wrist, before speaking.

“Princess Morana Gosselin, first of your name, Saviour of the Silent Night, my Spell-Cleaver, Queen of Death, would you do me the honour of potentially spending the rest of your immortal life with me?” He said, grinning wildly at his blushing lover.

“I suppose it couldn’t be that painful,” she said in agreement, and then the smile dimmed. “If it makes you happy, Rowan, we can replace Cordan in my guard. But, I am the one to tell him, and I still get to practice with him when possible even if he is not training me, okay?”

“Absolutely. Princess, you don’t know how much that means to me. Wait here, okay? I will be back in a minute. Don’t move.”

He did not wait for her protests. Without a word, he stood and made his exit, eager to grab supplies to show her simply how much he wanted her, how much he cared about her. He would truly make this a night she would never forget.

He pulled the door to her chambers open in a hurry, his excitement immediately faltering as he realised who still stood there. Cordan towered over him, looking down on him with a face of anger and betrayal. Rather sick of it, Rowan shook his head and simply walked away.

“Congratulations, Rowan. Tell Her Royal Highness she does not need to speak to me,” he shouted after him, then stormed off in the opposite direction. Rowan’s pang of guilt was short-lived as he remembered he was finally free of competition for his princess’s heart. Then his mind turned to all the things that he could be doing to her currently, and the memory of his once-brother vanished from his brain.

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