The Vixen Queen

Chapter 1.2

CW/TW: depiction of physical abuse & references to r*pe, nudity, and sexual innuendo. 18+ ONLY.

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Family meals. Aurora hated every one of them since her mother's death. Elek and her father had become imbalanced in her absence, no longer having a stronger mind to anchor their whims and fancies. They had become the worst possible versions of themselves, attesting to the importance of Jadar women being true to their roots. The Lesser Hall was better termed The Lecture Hall now, as family meals had become an opportunity for her father to berate her in between long winded deliberations about the world, while Elek antagonized and belittled everyone, but her most especially. Aurora would rather have been the last woman in Teleria than spend another second at that table. Family meals were mandatory, though, according to her father. She had found out the hard way that not abiding by his recent fixations was a surefire way to find herself on the receiving end of something far worse.

Only two things had given her the endurance to tolerate them. The first came to her nearly a year ago, one cold, rainy, lonely winter night as she lay curled in her bed, reeling from another day's misery. Her eyes were nearly bloodshot from the tears as she pleaded with The Weavers for her mother's return, should they feel so merciful. Or else, for someone to save her from the nightmare her life had become. Someone. Anyone. A voice had comforted her that night, a break in her psyche that had stuck with her ever since. It got her out of her rut and inspired acts of defiance, quests for independence, and a strange balance of dejection and hope — or rather, idealism, daydreams. It spoke to her in moments she needed it most, like a friend at her side, unseen.

The other was the arrival of the man they called The Rogue Warlock, Ganzig Enebish, who had come to Minnehil Palace less than a month ago. Though formally associated with The Order, he was a different type of mage than The Hintria was used to. With a distaste for politics and the spirit of a maverick, honesty and honor had a much easier path to his heart. Aurora couldn't shake either the feeling that they were kindred souls, bonded by their shared misery and the cold, calloused hands of fate.

Elek wore a smug look as she entered. He was resting back in his seat, arm hanging over the side. He was wearing his crown, as he usually did around the palace, to remind everyone that he was the heir. The twisting silver appeared darker in the dim morning light, more like cold, harsh iron — all three adjectives a perfect description of the man it adorned. A mess of contradictions, he was otherwise immaculate, his chestnut hair neatly tucked behind his ears, beard clean shaven. "About fucking time," he poked. "I'm already finished."

"Don't worry, brother, I'm sure father will excuse you so you can get to the pleasure houses early."

The inner voice cackled, causing her to giggle and smirk. Elek made no reply, only a high pitched, conceited chuckle. A single finger came up to poke into his temple, elbow resting on the arm of the chair. Tremors spread under Aurora's skin as he leered.

"Easy, Aurora," her father growled, grouchy and irritated that his children were bickering again. Aurora grunted and sat at her chair next to the Prince, far too close for comfort. But, as she had learned the hard way, it was her seat. The one immediately to her father's right was still empty, likely to never be filled again until Elek sat on the throne and erased the last vestiges of their mother that her father valiantly kept alive. She shot the warlock a brief look. He was otherwise silent, lost in his breakfast and paying zero attention to their squabble. Sensing Aurora's distressed gaze, his bright amber eyes glanced up from the food and steeled her.

"You missed a riveting conversation," her father continued, attempting to change the mood. His face perked up, as if it would help.

"Oh, what a shame," she sighed, sarcastically. "We never have those around here."