The rejected crown

The weight of secrets

~giovanna

Giovanna held a secret. a secret shared with Sir Edwyen, the witch hunter. What began as stolen glances had turned into something forbidden, reckless. The risk of discovery didn't stop them. It only made their encounters more dangerous, and more intoxicating.

It had been three nights since her cousin William stumbled upon them, witnessing their tryst in the candlelight of the royal chambers.

The corridors of the castle were heavy with murmurs. Servants whispered behind tapestries, and guards exchanged uneasy glances at their posts. Something was amiss, though no one dared say it aloud: William had not woken.

Giovanna sat at the edge of her father's old council chamber, her hands folded neatly in her lap, though she felt anything but calm. Edwyen stood in the shadows behind her, a silent sentinel, his expression stoic as always. But she knew better. She could feel the tension humming in the air between them. Every breath they took, every glance exchanged in passing was steeped in shared guilt.

William was in a coma—his fate now balanced on a knife's edge. If he woke, he would expose them. If he never woke, his absence would draw suspicion, suspicion that was already beginning to take root. And no one was more suspicious than her uncle, Richard.

"How long do you think we have?" Giovanna whispered, keeping her voice low so no one passing by the door would hear.

Edwyen crossed his arms, his jaw tight. "Until someone asks the right question? Not long. They've already started looking too closely."

She turned her head slightly to meet his gaze. "You should have been more careful."

"I did what was necessary." His voice was sharp but quiet, a reminder that what had been done could not be undone. "You wanted him silenced. I silenced him."

Giovanna flinched, hating the truth in his words. She had wanted William silenced. But not like this. Not teetering on the brink of death, with Richard circling like a vulture, eager to twist the situation to his advantage.

~Richard

In the dim, cold chambers of the infirmary, William lay motionless on a bed piled with furs and linen. His face was pale, the bruise on the back of his head dark and swollen covered by his blonde hair . The healers had done all they could, but his condition remained unchanged. He lingered somewhere between life and death, trapped in a sleep too deep for dreams.

At his bedside sat Richard, his father. He hadn't left the room for hours, watching his son's chest rise and fall with agonizing slowness. His hand rested lightly on William's, as if the warmth of his touch might somehow pull the boy back into the waking world. But no miracle came. Only silence.

Richard's eyes burned with suspicion. His son had been found alone, sprawled across the cold stone floor, as if he'd simply collapsed. But Richard knew better. He could feel it in his bones—something had happened to William, something deliberate.

He clenched his jaw as he recalled the odd behavior of his niece in recent days. Giovanna, always poised and graceful, had seemed unusually tense. It was subtle—an edge to her words, a flicker of unease behind her cool demeanor. But Richard noticed everything. And her knight, Sir Edwyen, had been hovering too close, like a guard dog whose presence spoke of guilt rather than loyalty.

"Something isn't right," Richard muttered, brushing a stray lock of hair from William's forehead. His son's skin was cool, too cool.

The door creaked open, and Richard glanced up to see one of his spies enter—a slight man with a sharp nose and quick eyes.

"Well?" Richard demanded, his voice low and dangerous.

The man hesitated for a moment, as if weighing the consequences of his words. "The knight—Edwyen—was seen near the princess's chamber that night."

Richard's eyes darkened, his suspicions hardening into certainty. "Together?"

"Aye," the spy whispered. "Alone. No one knows what they were doing, but... there were rumors, my lord. The boy might have seen something he shouldn't have."

Richard's lips curled into a grim smile. So, there it was. Giovanna and Edwyen, tangled in a web of secrets, with William caught in the middle. His son had discovered their affair, and they had tried to silence him—of that, Richard was now certain.

He rose slowly, the weight of his fury pressing down on him like armor. Giovanna thought she could claim the throne, did she? That she could slip past him, wrap herself in her father's crown, and wield power that should rightfully be his?

Not while I draw breath.

He cast one last look at William, his expression softening only for a moment. "Rest easy, my boy," he murmured, brushing his son's hand with his own. "I'll see justice done. They'll pay for what they did to you."

With that, Richard swept from the room, his steps purposeful. Giovanna's time was running out, and she didn't even know it.