The Crowned Captive

Surely the gods hated him. It was the only thing that made sense for the incessant pacing and scratching outside his door when he was trying to sleep for the first time in days. It had to be close to midnight, and there should be nobody and nothing in the tunnels Gallen patrolled without his knowing. Yet whatever it was now either leaning or standing against his door.

With Morana sleeping soundly beside him, barely covered by a snow leopard fur he had acquired a few months back, he sighed. His prisoner, who by any means should be shoved in a room of their own, was getting a far better sleep than him. A thud sounded against the door once more. He would place coin on whatever out there looking for her, and yet he was the one suffering.

Disgruntled, Rowan stood and stumbled forward. He was going to kill whatever stood out there with his bare hands if it didn’t stop making noise. If it was the little green man that was meant to be keeping the tunnels safe, he was going to string him up by his balls and use his screams as a lullaby. And if he still couldn’t sleep properly then, job be damned, he was going to find some form of intoxicant and fall into oblivion.

Rowan was not quite sure what he expected to find when he slid open the peephole on the door, iron burning his skin. In some small way, he supposed he expected to find nothing. He could say with certainty that he did not expect to find the grinning and stinking maw of yet another fae hound.

“Gallen, you ugly goblin prick!” Rowan roared, flinging himself back as the creature snapped at his face through the hole. “Get your damned tunnels cleared before I take back all that gold!”

Frantically looking around the room, he tried to find anything to use to kill the damned things. He had left his weapons with his horse, even his damned dagger in case Gallen decided the gems were worth more than his loyalty. He had never bothered to stock his rooms with weapons as he had back in the castle because it was meant to be safe. Maybe he could suffocate the damned things with his furs. Maybe he could throw Morana at them and escape.

“You know, you were right when you said that anybody who didn’t know the mechanism of the door could not get in,” Morana suddenly spoke, still laying on the floor with her eyes shut. “That does apply to things too.”

Rowan stared at her incredulously, laying on the hard ground with her single fur, sleeping through the increasingly incessant thudding of the beast beyond the door. He swore under his breath as a particularly hard hit rattled the door in its iron hinges, looking around the room for one of the secret passages Gallen had kept secret from all but the king.

“You worry too much, Lord Greenfeld. But if it really bothers your sleep, I will send them on their way for you.”

Every hair stood up on end at that statement. There was no way, not a chance, she could have truly known his name. There was also no chance she could actually turn away fae hounds, crafted by the gods for their one duty. Rowan turned to Morana once more, who now stood and stared at the door with blank eyes. She glided forward, moving as if her feet didn’t truly touch the ground. When Rowan reached out to grab her as she passed, he nearly dropped his hand in shock. It had been no coincidence the witchlights had responded so strongly to her; raw and unfettered magic rolled off of her in waves. Surely, it could not be the same person who he had incapacitated with a mere knock from the hilt of his dagger.

Rowan’s bowels turned watery when she twisted her hand and the door came open. Two hounds stood outside the door, snarling and grinning at their prey walking straight into their reach. Unsure of what else he could do, he merely stood and watched. His stomach coiled with worry and he wondered exactly how he would explain his latest captive’s death as she stood forward, laying a hand on the head of a still-snarling beast.

“Run off and tell your false leader his quarry will be in the tunnels, and to send his reinforcements. You two little runts aren’t going to do much good alone.”

Morana turned then, and the door closed behind her with a definitive thud. Rowan did not know what else to do but stare as she cocked her head at him, assessing him as if he was some strange curiosity. As if he wasn’t the one who just commanded away the monsters that had nearly killed them both last time.

“Settle down, little elf. She will not know of this when she wakes, even if you try and tell her. She may have the power in her bones, but she is not quite ready yet. Now, I do believe you can at least try and be a gentleman and let her sleep more comfortably. Oh, and one last thing. This makes twice she has saved your life.”

Like a blubbering fish, Rowan merely opened and closed his mouth as the creature within Morana’s skin walked past him, smirking all the while, and flopped unceremoniously into his furs. The smirk did not fade as they snuggled into one edge, finding the most comfortable spot. Then with a wave, they vanished. It was as if Morana had been a mere marionette and the strings had been cut. Her face went slack and her breathing evened out, and she was asleep once more.

Quickly deciding this woman was more effort than she was worth with the oddities that occurred around her, Rowan decided sleep would be the smartest thing for him too. And he was not about to give up his furs for her. With a disgruntled glare at the sleeping figure, he climbed back into his bed, grabbing the estranged leopard fur from across the room as he went. With his attention still on her, Rowan closed his eyes and wished for the world to fall away.