The Crowned Captive

The walk through the castle was slow as she tottered on her heels, wondering if they were given to her to prevent her from running anywhere. Rowan was silent but patient as he lead her through the dungeon, up the path to the castle, and through the winding halls. Two guards followed behind them, silent sentries.

Again thoroughly lost, Morana stared curiously at the doors they came to stand in front of. There was a battle scene, painfully detailed, carved into the enormous double doors. No, not carved she realised, but the wood itself had grown to the shape. Not a scratch marred the perfect surface which seemed alive, the pain on the faces of the wounded and the rage etched into the warriors as real as if they were in front of her. As Rowan pushed open the doors, freeing her arm, she thought she could not be any more awed. Yet, as the scene swung from her sight, it gave way to the biggest library she had ever seen.

The cavernous foyer of the library, an epicentre of bustling Fae of every shape and colour, was merely the core of the structure. As Rowan tugged her inside, she craned her head up at the many layers that jutted out above them. She counted another dozen floors above with surety before the balconies blurred into each other too far to discern. At the very top, the roof gave way, and light beamed in unhindered. Her eyes tore from the display above to the people around them then - never would she have imagined such diversity in the fae. People with skin of blues and reds, greens and purples, walked around without any hint of knowing they were different; to them, she supposed, this was the norm. Furs and horns and tails adorned many of them, and a select few even had wings as delicate as those of a butterfly or as leathery as those of a bat. The stories humans told of barely-indistinguishable monsters held no light to the beauty she saw amongst these people.

“It is rude to stare,” Rowan merely said as he dragged her through the throng, past the shelves of books that lined every wall and jutted out at random, making a maze of knowledge. Morana did not care currently. The space was unlike anything she could have ever imagined, and she struggled to process it. These were the faces of the Fae, not just the elves that could blend in with humans easier. These were the faces that she had grown up terrified of, had grown up being told were wicked monsters who would enjoy nothing less than her death.

For some reason, she was no longer scared.

Morana was silent as she was led to the back of the cavern, through a maze of bookshelves and to a corner so deep within the library that it was lit by witch lights alone. In the private alcove sat an elf who barely looked up from his book as Rowan directed her to the chair.

He stared at her blankly over the top of his book, itemising her like a thing. Dull blonde hair hung from his head in greasy unkept strands, and dull grey eyes sat over a hooked nose. He looked altogether like he believed himself too good to be here, and frowned at her as if she should already know as such. Morana frowned back, glancing back at Rowan as he seated himself between her and the exit to the alcove, the other guards somewhere beyond.

“I am Thyrn, and it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance,” the elf said as he snapped his book shut, his voice suggesting it was anything but pleasurable. “I have the privilege of being your educator. In my sessions, you will refer to me as Sir and nothing else. You will remember your manners, no matter your upbringing. Do you understand?”

“Thyrn. She is not some beast, and she is too old to be treated as a child.” Rowan’s voice was steel as he spoke. Still, the scholar’s eyes were hard on Morana.

“I understand, Sir,” she hissed through her teeth, eyes narrowed.

Morana stared at the man as he nodded, a smug smile on his face, and then walked to the end of the table to grab something. With little care, he dropped a pile of papers in front of her and went back to his seat with his book. Staring down, Morana was shocked.

“The quick brown fox... you have got to be kidding me,” she spat. She heard Rowan stand and peer over her shoulder.

“She knows basic reading and writing, as you have been told,” Rowan said over her shoulder.

“I do not care for her previous subpar teachings. If she is to be my student, she is to relearn everything. I will not have her human teachings addling her brain for when we reach more advanced thinking. You know how they treat their women. I would not be surprised if they purposely taught them incorrectly to keep them dumb and easier to control.”

She could have hit the arrogant man then. She felt herself stiffen and her hands ball into fists as she glared with the intensity of a thousand suns. Thyrn stared down his nose at her, her anger seeming to do little more than cause him distaste. The insult was more than she could handle, and she immediately knew she would not sit through a second more of his “teachings”, regardless of their aim. She would rather rot in her cell than be exposed to any more of the arrogant creature who sat in front of her.

“You had your orders, scholar.” The ice in Rowan’s voice was enough to make the hairs on her neck stand on end, having only been levelled at her with the intent of harm. “They were not to insult her, they were not to overdo reading comprehension. You were to teach her Fae history, nothing else. Your refusal to do as such will not go unnoticed. I am sure I will manage to find a much more competent tutor regardless.”

Morana was mildly shocked as Rowan gently laid a hand on her arm, guiding her from her seat and back the way she came. Not for one second had she truly expected him to stand with her against the scholar, yet anger seethed against his skin as they made their exit from the library. Her frustration quickly fizzled into an odd regret as they left the exquisite rooms.

“I apologise for that, Morana. I knew he was a prejudiced man, but did not expect that from him,” Rowan said, leading her through the hallways again, the guards tailing them. “He was not my choice of tutor, but he came highly commended.”

“You were not the one who inferred I was some kind of beast, and that I had been purposely made dumb to be some kind of breeder,” she replied, her voice despondent. She had been freed from her gilded cage only to be treated like a lesser being. She supposed she was a lesser being to him.

“That is true, but I apologise nonetheless. Now, I don’t know about you, but I rather feel the urge to hit something. Care to take a different kind of training?”

Her head snapped around to the fiery-haired elf as the words fell from his mouth, her expression incredulous. Surely, a prisoner who must be locked away in the dungeons and watched at all times was not meant to be trained in anything that could increase their risk. Yet his look was genuine.

“I can hardly train like this,” she finally replied. Not only could she hardly walk like this, with the infernal heels strapped to her feet, but anything vigorous would surely free her barely covered breasts from their fabric confinement.

“I don’t know why you would wear it in the first place. It may be pretty for the eyes, but I don’t believe you rather care who finds you attractive here. I can find you something more fitting at the guardhouse.”

“I wasn’t exactly given the choice of my clothing,” she grumbled in reply, goading a laugh from Rowan.

“Whoever is choosing your clothing obviously wants to impress someone with your tits half out. Is there anybody here you wish to impress, Morana? There are easier ways to catch my eye.”

Her cheeks flushed crimson to match the dress. There certainly was no intent to impress the arrogant elf who watched her every move, and she did not wish to know what those easier ways could be. The blatant teasing from Rowan did not ease her anger at him, but at least it was more comfortable.

“I can assure you, Rowan, there are many other things I would rather wear around you,” she replied, hoping it to be an adequate reply.

“That does not answer my question, Princess.” His fangs flashed as he grinned down at her.

Not able to control herself any longer, Morana drove her elbow into the arrogant prick’s ribs, smirking at the pained grunt she got in response.