The Crowned Captive

Rowan stood in front of the doors of King Victor’s private chambers, staring blankly at the guards who refused to open the door despite his summons. So he waited until the King deigned to let him enter. He knew forcing him to stand out here was a power play, making him remember the... discussion they had after his return with Morana. The king had not been disappointed in him, by some miracle, but that did not spare his wrath.

Finally, the doors opened, and Rowan entered. He bowed deeply, and the king waved his hand dismissively. Rowan sat in his usual seat, throwing back the glass of whiskey the king handed him. He knew he would need it.

“Do you have anything to say about this morning?” The king asked.

“Nothing particularly tactful, your Majesty. Is she your daughter? Or your brothers?”

The King’s face darkened as he stared at Rowan, and Rowan poured himself another glass of whiskey from the crystal decanter. It was likely to be a long and painful discussion, then. He hoped the king was in a listening mood, or at least a patient one.

“I am sure you remember my traitorous wife,” The king began, and Rowan nodded. It had been twenty-two years earlier that he had disposed of the severed finger that still held the wedding band the king had placed on it. “It was not common knowledge, for I knew the loss would be too much for the kingdom to bear. But when she left, when my brother got his conniving hands on her and killed her, she was pregnant.”

Rowan sat back in his seat and drained the second drink, already wishing for the alcohol to take his mind.

“There is no other of the Alichade line alive? No cousin or aunt?” He asked, trying to calculate how it may all be false.

“No, I made sure of that in the last war. Mylanda was the last of them, and I believed their line died with her. Without a doubt, my wife was her mother. Unfortunately, I very much remember the night she was conceived. She is a true-born princess.”

“So what now?” Rowan asked, face darkening. A forgotten princess was easy to be rid of if King Victor decided that she was unwanted. An unclaimed heir was far too easily exploited to be allowed to live if she was not useful.

“What is she like? Tell me of her character.”

Rowan paused for a long second before he replied. “She is strong-willed and stubborn, and her pride will grow quickly if stoked. But she has led a life of trauma and loss, and I do believe that will be easy to exploit if she continues to feel alone. For an elf of royal descent, her magic is severely lacking, however. I… there were two occasions that it was as if someone possessed her and used magic beyond recognition to stave away fae hounds. The being was other, but I am not convinced the magic was. There was another incident with magic that was possibly hers, but she believes she is as powerless as a human.”

“And what would you do if you were in my position?”

“I am unsure. It would be a hard decision,” Rowan began, slightly shell-shocked. He stared at the whiskey longingly once more. “I do not believe she is a danger whilst kept within our walls, and her only escape attempt was borne of fear for her life. She is far from a suitable heir currently, but is smart and perceptive, and could be trained yet. However, she is a danger for any who wish to use her against you. At the current moment, I would sit and watch,” be finally concluded, his eyes meeting the Kings.

The King stared at him for a long moment, those black and beady eyes boring into him. “You already care for her,” the King finally said, sitting back with a bored amusement on his face. Rowan frowned.

“She has her charms,” Rowan admitted, already uncomfortable at the likelihood of the information being used against him.

“You are tasked with training her then, however you see fit for a princess. She will need knowledge to one day rule a kingdom, or at least appropriate knowledge of Fae customs for an appropriate marriage to bring someone more suitable to the throne. In such a time of war and unease, she cannot be left unannounced for long.”

Rowan swallowed and nodded. He felt the King’s eyes heavy on him and knew the weight in those words. If she was not too dangerous, and if she was not suitable for power, the King would marry her off to someone he chose. If Rowan played his card right, that could be him. Fae marriages for power were extremely rare and frowned upon; the suitor would have to be someone she had feelings for. If she was not suitable for that, she would end up dead.

“Go, Rowan. Do as I have said.”

Rowan stood and bowed deeply once more, hastily making his retreat before his king could decide otherwise.