The rejected crown

The trial

~everyone

The grand hall of the castle buzzed with a palpable tension, the anticipation thick in the air as the nobles gathered. At the head of the room sat a long table draped in royal colors, where Giovanna would soon make her stand. She could feel the weight of the crown pressing down on her, knowing that today the fate of two women—and her own path to the throne—was at stake.

In an adjoining chamber, Giovanna paced restlessly. She remembered her conversation with Edweyn the night before, his quiet conviction as he pleaded with her to intervene. He had spoken passionately about mercy, about the chance to be a leader known not only for strength but for compassion. But mercy, Giovanna knew, could not be her primary reason for standing against her uncle, Richard. Her decision had to be cold and strategic if it was to count for anything.

"Your Highness," Lord Roderick said as he stepped into the room. His voice was low, his expression somber. "The nobles are waiting for you. Richard has been stirring them since dawn."

Giovanna took a breath, pushing down the churn of emotions rising in her chest. "Let him. I intend to keep him waiting a little longer," she replied, her tone steady as she smoothed the fine fabric of her gown. Her hesitation would appear as confidence, a show of command. If she faltered even for a moment, Richard would seize the chance to chip away at her authority.

"Remember, Your Highness," Roderick advised, his voice cautious. "Any show of leniency could be perceived as weakness. Your uncle is eager to pounce on any sign of hesitation."

Giovanna's jaw tightened. "I understand that," she replied curtly. "But I am not weak. I know precisely what I need to do." In the back of her mind, Edweyn's words echoed—an insistent reminder of mercy and justice—but she forced herself to ignore them. This was about Richard, not Jane or her mother.

With a deep breath, Giovanna straightened and walked toward the hall. As she entered, all eyes turned to her, and the murmurs fell silent. She could feel Richard's gaze upon her, cold and expectant, his expression almost daring her to challenge him.

"Nobles of the realm," she began, her voice ringing out across the room. "We are gathered here today to pass judgment on the accused witches, Jane of house bullen and her mother mary, who stand trial for their alleged crimes against the kingdom. Justice demands that we hold them accountable."

Richard rose, his voice carrying a smug, self-satisfied tone as he addressed the room. "Indeed, dear niece. We must not forget that the people demand swift justice for those who dare threaten the kingdom with dark magic."

Giovanna's pulse quickened, but she kept her composure, knowing she had to tread carefully. "Justice is not fear-mongering," she interjected, her tone sharp. "We claim to uphold principles, yet to act only out of fear is to betray those principles."

A murmur rippled through the crowd, some nobles nodding, others glancing warily at Richard, whose smile faded. She knew she needed to appear both strong and reasonable—qualities that could shake Richard's image as the kingdom's steadfast leader.

The trial commenced, and witnesses took the stand one after another, each one painting Jane and her mother as dangerous sorceresses who had sowed fear and distrust among the people. Giovanna studied the two women, their faces defiant even under the crushing weight of the accusations. Edweyn was right, she thought. They were human, not monsters.

When Edweyn stepped forward to testify, his expression was calm, yet she could see the tension in his eyes. He glanced at her briefly, and Giovanna felt a pang of regret, remembering their conversation. She knew he would defend them, even if it placed him at odds with the kingdom's wishes.

"Ser Edweyn," Richard drawled, a mocking smile on his lips. "Surely you, as a knight sworn to defend the kingdom, understand the need for strict punishment in the face of such danger?"

Edweyn met Richard's gaze, unflinching. "Your Grace," he began, his voice even, "the law must be upheld, but I ask that we also consider the broader context. Fear alone should not dictate justice. We must be cautious that we do not let it lead us to darkness."

Richard scoffed, his expression filled with contempt. "Are you suggesting that we risk leniency in the face of witchcraft?"

"No," Edweyn replied, his voice stronger. "I am saying that fear can cloud our judgment, and we risk doing more harm than good. Justice without humanity is little more than cruelty."

Giovanna saw her opening and stepped forward to join Edweyn. "Ser Edweyn speaks wisely," she said, her voice commanding. "These women may be accused, but to simply burn them out of fear is beneath the ideals we claim to defend."

Richard's gaze darkened as he watched her. "This is absurd! You would risk the kingdom's safety for a chance to appear 'compassionate' in front of the court?" he challenged, his words aimed at undermining her authority.

"I would risk nothing," Giovanna retorted, her voice steady but cold. "I am prepared to show the people that true strength lies in our ability to judge fairly, not rashly. If you doubt my resolve, then let us turn to the people themselves and ask them what they truly wish for."

Richard sneered, realizing her intentions. "Oh, I see. You would try to turn this into a show of your 'enlightened' rule, would you? Hoping they'll see you as more just than I?"

"Let them decide," Giovanna replied, meeting his gaze with a fierce determination. "If you are so confident in the people's desire for blood, then surely you have nothing to fear."

Richard's expression twisted into something dark and furious, but he held his composure, turning to address the crowd with a theatrical gesture. "Very well," he announced. "Let the nobles cast their votes. If they wish for justice, they will vote to burn the witches. Otherwise, they may choose mercy."

The hall fell silent as nobles began to raise their hands, some out of fear, others out of loyalty to Richard's powerful influence. Giovanna's heart sank as she saw the overwhelming support for execution. Her gaze flickered to Edweyn, whose clenched fists betrayed his frustration.

"Do you see, niece?" Richard said, his voice dripping with satisfaction. "This is what the people want. Justice for those who have put their lives at risk."

Giovanna clenched her teeth, barely able to contain her anger. "You've only shown them what they've been trained to fear. This is no justice, only a spectacle."

Richard waved her off dismissively. "You should take this as a lesson, Giovanna. The people want strength, not weakness. The witches will be burned at dawn."

As the nobles filed out of the hall, Giovanna stood there, her heart heavy with defeat. She had done all she could to undermine him, to challenge his authority, yet her words had fallen on ears closed by fear. Richard had played his hand expertly, and now she was forced to watch as he solidified his control.

Edweyn approached her, his face grim. "I'm sorry, Giovanna. I know you tried."

She forced herself to meet his gaze, the sting of failure sharp. "It wasn't enough. I tried to fight him on his own ground, but he's too good at stoking their fear."

Edweyn placed a hand on her shoulder, a silent show of support. "This isn't over, Giovanna. He may have won today, but you've sown doubt. The people saw a glimpse of something different—a leader who might one day be capable of mercy."

Giovanna gave a faint nod, though the weight of what was to come pressed heavily on her. Richard may have claimed victory today, but she knew she could not allow him to rule unchallenged. The stakes were too high, and her fight against him was only beginning.