The King's Captive

Crown of Vengeance

King Henry felt the darkness creeping in at the edges of his vision, struggling valiantly to keep it at bay. Waves of agony surged through his body, each throb a bitter reminder of his weakening state. Sweat dripped down his brow, mingling with the bitter taste of defeat on his tongue. 

As he gasped for breath, a chilling realization settled over him—this battle was slipping from his grasp, and the overwhelming pull of unconsciousness beckoned him like a siren's call. He fought against it, but each moment seemed to stretch, taunting him with the spectre of surrender.

"You chose to remain, believing it would cause me anguish?" he remarked, his tone heavy with emotion and incredulity. "Did it never cross your mind that your scheme is not without its shortcomings?"

"What shortcomings are you speaking of, Your Majesty? Perhaps the one where your guards are absent? Or the realization that your downfall will go unnoticed until I've had my pleasure with you?" She smiled mischievously, a spark of madness dancing in her eyes as she moved in closer.

"Do you truly believe you can escape the consequences of your actions? Do you think your deeds will go unnoticed? My loyal guards are present, and they shall arrive to rescue me," he expressed his thoughts with a sense of confidence and a strong determination to succeed.

She seized a dagger from the desk and positioned it against his throat, the tip piercing his skin and drawing blood. "Are you quite certain of that, Your Majesty? It appears to me that your guards are conspicuously absent." She opened the door wide, urging him to observe for himself. "Do you see anyone out here, Your Majesty?"

He glanced out into the desolate hallway, its stark emptiness echoing in the back of his mind. The silence felt oppressive, and an unsettling wave of panic surged within him, tightening like a vice around his chest. With each passing moment, a sense of defeat crept closer, gnawing at his resolve. He could feel his grip on reality beginning to slip as if the very ground beneath him was shifting. 

The walls seemed to close in, amplifying his fear that he was on the brink of losing his sanity. Each breath became a struggle, and a chilling thought settled in—was this how it would end? Was he truly teetering on the edge of oblivion?

"Where are my guards? What have you done with them?" he expressed his astonishment and disbelief upon noticing that there was no one standing guard at the chamber doors.

"That, Your Majesty, is a question I will not answer," she laughed, the sound of her laughter echoing in the room, as she slowly pulled the dagger away from his throat. "Your guards are nowhere to be found, and it's just you and me, Your Majesty. And I'm sure you know what that means," she smirked at him, her eyes gleaming with malice.

A tight knot of fear began to coil in his chest, constricting his breath. Shadows of panic flickered at the edges of his mind, threatening to swallow him whole. A suffocating sense of doom loomed over him, and he felt as if he were teetering on the brink of insanity. The thought of dying sent chills down his spine, an all-consuming dread of departing this world alone, enveloped in agony, haunted him relentlessly.

"You are going to kill me, aren't you? You are going to make me suffer before you kill me. You are going to kill me and make it look like an accident. You are going to make it look like I died in my sleep," he gazed at her, his eyes widening in astonishment.

"I assure you, I have no intention of harming you, Your Majesty. However, I do have plans to handle this situation in a more...innovative manner," she tossed the dagger away and stepped towards him, her eyes glinting with a mix of amusement and mischief.

"What do you imply by a 'more creative manner'?" he inquired with a hint of scepticism.

Avalyn rose gracefully from her throne, her midnight-blue gown flowing around her like a stormy sea, "You have wronged me in ways that can never be forgiven."

Henry's face paled, fear flickering in his eyes as he realized the depth of her wrath. "I... I don't understand," he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper.

A cruel smile tugged at Avalyn's lips as she lifted a delicate hand to point accusingly at him. "You took my virginity by force, claiming it as punishment for my defiance. You forced me into a marriage I never wanted," she declared, each word dripping with venom.

Henry's mask of arrogance crumbled, replaced by a look of horror and guilt. "I was a fool, Avalyn. I see that now. Please, forgive me," he pleaded, desperation lacing his words.

But Avalyn's heart remained hardened, her resolve unshakable. "Forgiveness is not yours to ask for, Henry. It is mine to give. And I choose vengeance," she declared, her voice ringing through the hall like a death knell.

With a wave of her hand, Avalyn summoned her guards, their armour gleaming in the torchlight as they surrounded Henry, their faces grim and unyielding. "Take him away," she commanded, her tone final.

As the guards seized Henry, dragging him from the hall kicking and screaming, Avalyn watched with a mixture of satisfaction and sorrow. She knew that her revenge would not undo the pain he had caused her, but it would serve as a warning to all who dared to cross her.

And so, Queen Avalyn stood alone in the empty hall, the echoes of Henry's cries fading into the distance. The weight of her vengeance bore down on her like a heavy crown, a bitter reminder of the price she had paid for her defiance.

But at that moment, as the shadows lengthened and the torches flickered, Avalyn knew one thing for certain: She would never again allow herself to be a prisoner of anyone, least of all a king who had dared to take her freedom and her dignity.