I was given raggedy, disgusting clothes to replace the ones I was wearing.
I suppose I was supposed to make myself look less than them, which was a poor attempt from the king to show his disdain, but I will not judge a humiliated man.
Clearly, he feels as if I have tried to undermine him by taking what is his, but I did not do such a thing. If anything, that was the other way around.
Helena was the one who took his honor by undermining him, which was quite clever of her.
She did it in a way that did not incriminate him or any of the servants, because she was the one who sent them away. The only ones who took any risks were me and her.
Whenever I thought I couldn't admire her more. She managed to do something that was hot as hell, like rebelling against the entire court without doing a goddamn crime. She was even more deceitful and tricky than me, and I loved her for it.
Shackles on my hands and feet, chained to make my steps short for my very long legs, I walked down. Two guards flanking me from both sides, one of them was sporting a shiner in his left eye.
I smirked at him, remembering that he was the one that tried to come at me before, and I banged his head against that other guard.
I raised my chin, meeting every eye that crossed my path.
The two double doors were leading towards a very familiar room. The only place that could accommodate the entire court for a public execution: the throne room.
Despite the fact that I could hear small chatter even through the door, the room went dead silent as soon as the doors opened to reveal me.
I suppose I didn't look as bad as I thought I would. A busted lip and a broken arm. But as I only had time to examine myself at the dungeon, I could not be certain that this was the extent of it.
It definitely could not be the worst of the injuries I could have considered.
I latched on to every eye, every face that met mine. Most were scowling at me, some looked down and shamed. The only friendly faces were the Sandenses.
Only concern was reflected in their eyes, both of them turning to each other, then to me.
Both of them were excellent lovers, but when things got serious, they made me an offer to move in permanently.
Despite the danger and regardless of the cost of what it would mean. There was no hesitation on their side, only on mine. But I could not risk it, not even for them. I gave them a grateful nod and walked until it seemed that the entire room's eyes were all on me.
"Kneel, fool."
The command was domineering, unyielding of every bone in my body to obey and comply.
Despite my sanity, my attention was not on the king or the phone but on the princess standing beside them.
Her hair was buzzed off. Her dried eyes were red from tears already dry. They cut off her braids, her beautiful golden hair that reached to her feet.
I gritted my teeth. Everything in my body demanded I kill whoever has done this. And when I saw the three bruises on her right arm, they were made bluer and more severe by the minute.
I made one step before I stilled. Helena shook her head violently before a soft hand Blended on her shoulder, it was Victor the bastard who hit her. I'll kill him.
I'll kill everything that comes between me and him and me spilling his guts on the floor. A silent voice among the clatter in my head whispered, wait.
I clenched my fist and took a step back, kneeling. I looked up at the throne; it was built with many steps so whoever sat up there would be looking down at his subjects.
Kings were never quite as clever as they thought they were, were they?
I hold back my silent smirk, waiting. Silent ringing was going for my ears, "I was talking to my daughter. She has been begging for your life, boy." The last word was emphasized as if trying to mark the age difference is making him superior to me.
"But when I see you now, I am not impressed, not to say so myself," he nipped at his chin, trying to tame his beard.
"I have decided to be kind today, so I give you the choice in your punishment: banishment to the work camps or death."
Helena looked at me pleadingly. I knew she took a heavy hit for this, probably agreeing to take whatever Victor has to dish out, but her bravery, her courage, is not to be wasted on me. I cleared my throat. "And what's for Helena's fate?"
The king and the duke exchange meaningful glances.
But a third, more powerful voice came into view: "She will die quickly, I hope."
It was a man with a powerful build. His height is twice mine, and he had thick war braids behind them, unlike the Duke, who chose to wear his hair short. He had thick armor and appointed helmet seems like that could take someone's eyeball off. War paint was all over his face, calling out his sharp features.
It was a strange and confronting sight to behold among the courtiers and the young lords.
The silence was broken by chatter. Who was he? From what court is he?
"Uncle, what are you doing here? We have agreed." His voice was cut off by the slashing of his own throat.
"I'm sorry, but this weak country is undeserving, and we must take our advantages as they present themselves."
Screeching high ladies were wandering all around me and running out of the room. Guards were blocking the double doors, not letting anyone out. The king called guards to arrest whoever it was, but they did not listen, they just blocked their doors and waited for their new master.
Weak gurgling came from Victor's throat as he fell against his uncle's chest. He seemed to murmur something as his eyes fell shut.
I moved towards Helena, she moving towards me.
He was not letting this happen.
He throws his nephew's corpse aside to grab Helena by the throat, holding a knife to it. I looked at the king, panicked, screeching for anyone to help him. I ordered, "Give me a sword, I'll kill him myself."
A bark of laughter left his throat. "You're a brave one, aren't you?"
I glare at him, my irises going into sharp slits, burning into his very soul. He offers if it is even an option. "Join my forces, and I'll let you have the girl after I'm finished over here," he grazed his cheek against hers in a possessive hold, licking it all.
I fume, grabbing the chains as my only weapon. "Let her go. Do whatever you want here."
He put it through her stomach.
A screech sounded from my throat, ripping apart whatever remained of my sanity. "No!"
He threw her against the floor. I rushed towards her, bundling her up against my chest, stopping the bleeding with whatever was remaining from her live gown. I demanded her quickly paling skin was fading.
Then with a quick glance towards me. He bounced up the stairs towards the throne, the king already walking with an accusatory finger. "How dare you?"
Without even a thought, he chucked a throwing knife at his chest. He held it as if still not believing it, falling a clad down the stairs.
Whatever this man was, he was now occupying the throne. The king had a certain air of desperation on him, inching towards his daughter, "Helena…"
Her eyes were closing frightfully fast. "Daddy?"
"I'm so sorry."
His apology ran a shiver down her body, which I could feel too. He looked up at me with so much hope that I could have sworn there was a hint of a plea, "Keep her safe." I nodded.
He removed his ring, putting it in the palm of Helena's hand.
The smile he had was foreboding. A slight trickle of blood was gushing from his lips, his eyes going looser the more he looked at her. He caressed her cheek. "Goodbye, I love you, my little princess."
A strange light seemed to emit from his palm. Suddenly he grabbed my hand from her waist, not letting go. I tried to jerk him away, but although he was at death's door, he had a steel grip. Then he fell very, very still. His cold hand still clutching me.
A strange signet peered in my palm.
Helena's still unconscious body latched on to me. I was still gripping the wound in her stomach, but a slight warming sensation was in my palm. A glow admitting light was from there. Another part of me told me to latch on tighter. The morning sensation grew into a burning degree until Helena started to flutter her eyes open. I inspected the wound; it was gone.
I peered up at the throne. He was not paying any attention to me or the wounded princess at my hands. He was looking at the crowd.
He was now king of this place, they all had to know their place.