The Crowned Captive

By some miracle, their sleep had not been interrupted by prowling hounds or monsters from the mountains. In fact, they had slept so soundly that the sun was high overhead when she was roused. Soundlessly, Rowan undid the knot of the bindings that tethered them together and left the tent, letting the flap fall closed as he did so. Morana dressed in silence.

Rowan had already cleared nearly the entire camp when she emerged, the only thing left to pack the tent. Offering her an end of bread and cheese and ordering her to sit, he did just that. Finally, with the horses prepared once more, he turned to her.

“Are you ready to leave?” He asked.

Not knowing how far she had until she was handed over to whoever wanted her, Morana definitely was not ready to leave. She was still raw from her breakdown the night before, and she could not handle much more yet. But without simply trying to flee, what choice did she have? She doubted she could just say “no thanks” and get to walk away.

“Where are you taking me?” Morana finally asked, trying to hide the sadness in her voice. Rowan was either frighteningly irritable or annoyingly charming, and he was her captor and kidnapper, but she had grown fond of his company after being so hauntingly alone. He had not treated her like a prisoner, not truly, and was far kinder to her than most people had been. Her fondness for him was idiotic, she knew. At the end of the road, he was going to hand her over to whoever hired him and let them do whatever they wished.

He seemed to think for a long moment before finally deciding to answer. He ran his hand through those long fiery locks, pushing them out of his face as he sighed.

“I am taking you to King Viktor Gosselin, the true king of the fae. It is a few more days’ riding, and then we will be there.”

The words sounded forced as Rowan spoke, not turning to watch her face. Morana was grateful, as she felt like she must have looked like an idiot, shifting from shocked to angry to inexplicably sad. Tears threatened to escape her eyes as she processed the information. If a king wanted her, there was no chance of escaping his reach. For someone as worthless as her, the end of the road was likely to be a finality.

“How often does this king let those he ordered captured go free afterwards?” Morana’s voice was wobbly as she spoke. Rowan stopped turning the meat over the fire then and cursed as he turned to Morana.

“What have you done that could possibly anger a king?” Rowan asked, his eyes locking onto hers. Those forest-green depths swirled like treetops in storms and Morana could not look away. She could nearly believe the turmoil she saw in their depths, nearly hear the question as a plea rather than the sarcasm it likely was.

“Nothing. I don’t know why I would even be of interest in the first place. My life has been miserable and quiet enough to bore him to sleep if he ever asked for my story.” A broken laugh escaped her lips as tears broke from her eyelids, trailing down her cheeks.

“Exactly, you have done nothing. Unless you are hiding some horrid crime against the fae, and you do a very good job of it, your fate is likely a hostage for your father or another family member. If I am correct in that, you will be treated well, and once the matter is sorted, you will be free to do as you wish within the king’s realm.”

Morana merely nodded at that, turning away from Rowan and wiping the tears from her face. She did not miss the fact he had specified within the king’s realm but tried not to worry over the fact. It was likely no worse than living amongst humans who would kill her if they knew who she was.

“It is getting late in the morning already, Morana. We have to leave now if we are to reach our next destination by night.” Rowan said.

Their ride was boring. Whether that was because truly nothing happened, or because she was too worried about herself to pay attention, was unknown to her. She did not notice a change in the forest, nor the air or the birds. The only difference between when they started to when they finished was the position of the sun and the growling of her belly.

“It’s getting late, but I believe we are both in need of a wash,” Rowan said as the night crept in around them. Morana started at the sudden sound. Her brow furrowed at his grin. “It’s been a few days and I can smell you over your horse. I know a perfect place nearby.”

“And the consequences if I choose not to bathe with you?” Morana snapped. She just wanted this over with. If she was to follow him into her new hell, she wanted it over quickly.

“Oh, you will be bathing, whether I have to throw you in the lake fully clothed or not. We can take it in turns if we must.”

“I am not in the mood, Rowan.”

“Nor am I, Morana. We will be bathing, willingly or not.”

Morana scowled up at him, wishing again to punch the pretty elf in his pretty face. Mischief played across his features, and she knew that whilst his voice was light, he would not fail to follow through with his threat. Morana harrumphed as Rowan grinned and turned his mare, changing their course.

It would have to have been close to half an hour before the forest gave way to a sudden absence of trees. The lake itself was large, spanning over a kilometre or two, with a swath of trees absent for about 20 metres around its edges. Not a ripple crossed it in the moonlight, allowing for every star to be reflected. Even in her foul mood, Morana was awed.

“It is said that this lake was made millennia ago when a rock from beyond the stars collided with the land. Some say the gods threw it, angry with the king at that time. The rebellion claims it was the start of the Gods’ anger with the division of fae and humans,” Rowan said, snorting.

“It’s beautiful,” Morana breathed, dismounting and padding slowly towards the shore. In the inky darkness, the water looked black, hiding everything within the depths.

“It is a special place for the fae, a place of cleansing and learning. Its depths are endless, even to those who can breathe water. It is not a place of fun, but something deeper.”

Morana nodded, understanding what he was saying. He would not tease or flirt here, or try to make her uncomfortable. It would be dishonourable to do so. In his own way, he was showing that he cared, and was throwing her a bone. She got peace, for now at least, and the chance to scrub the dark thoughts from her mind.

“Turn away whilst I undress, but we don’t have to bathe in shifts,” she said as she started undoing the ties on the tunic she wore. She did not turn to check Rowan had looked away as she pulled it over her head, and shed the rest of the clothing after. It was only once she was treading water, the banks sharply dropping away beneath her, that she looked back at Rowan. Her cheeks flushed as she turned to see him slipping his trousers off with his back turned, the muscles writhing beneath his skin as he bent over to untangle them from his ankles. She quickly turned away once more, slipping under the water to hide the shame and arousal that clawed at her. When she resurfaced and brushed the hair from her face, she could hear Rowan now wading into the water behind her. He swam past her, kicking out with powerful strokes until he was a few metres past her. He simply floated, letting the water carry him where he wished as she turned away from his naked body.

“Do all fae men have the confidence in their bodies that you do?”

“Most fae aren’t as confident with their body, no,” Rowan replied, and Morana could hear the smirk in his voice. “But as a people, we aren’t as prudish about nakedness as humans are. It is natural, how the gods created us, and to see shame in it would be to see shame in their work. Someone walking down the streets naked would be odd, but nobody would look at it with disgust. The only reason humans tend to do so is that human men can’t keep their hands to themselves and make that everybody else’s issue.”

“And we finally agree on something,” Morana said, her voice bitter as memories of all the men who had attempted to prey upon her, the lonely maiden, rose in her mind.

“If it is a subject you would rather not revisit, don’t reply. How often did men try to use your body without your permission?” Rowan asked, still floating along nonchalantly.

“At least once a week somebody groped me as I cleaned the inn, and I was forced to ignore it or lose the only place that would house me in the village. Incidences, where men cornered me outside, occurred a few times a year since I moved there at 16.” Rowan cursed at Morana’s response, and her eyes turned to him once more.

“If you had the chance, would you want to kill them?”

“I don’t think so. If it had gone further, maybe. But I was smart. I knew how to steer them away,” Morana replied after a long moment. Rowan nodded at her reply.

“It is customary in our culture for the victim of any such assault to choose the punishment for the crime. Some women cut the hands off their victims, others cut other members off, and some choose death. It is rare that any woman needs to make that choice, though. That so many humans get away with it is... barbaric. I could never sit by and watch it happen without some form of retribution. I have never.” Rowan righted himself in the water, copper hair hanging over his face as he looked at Morana. “If I must confess, I did cut a hand off the man who grabbed you the morning we left that little hellhole.”

“You were stalking me down to kidnap me as a prisoner for the king, and you took the time to cut the hand off a man who groped me in the alley?” Morana blinked at the confession. “I am oddly flattered and extremely concerned about your sanity.”

Rowan laughed then, kicking closer to her, close enough that he could touch her. Morana felt her body stiffen but tried to push the thought of his proximity from her mind. He may be an elite warrior whose art was death and sex, but he held no danger to her currently. Rowan looked at her currently as if truly looking at her for the first time, seeing the person beneath the half-fae exterior, and something shifted in his face for a second. He looked away again, blinking, and Morana furrowed her brow in confusion.

“I feel clean enough, but feel free to take your time. I will ready the horses for our departure whilst you finish up,” he said, not making eye contact as he swam back to the bank. She did not reply, wondering what had changed in Rowan for his sudden departure.