The King's Captive

A Crown of Shadows

The grand hall of Lysandre was a spectacle to behold, its high arched ceilings draped with vibrant banners that swayed gently in the soft breeze. The air was filled with the delightful scent of freshly cut flowers, meticulously arranged in ornate vases that lined the polished marble floors. The hall buzzed with the excited chatter of the kingdom's people, their laughter and voices creating a warm, lively atmosphere that intertwined with the sweet strains of music emanating from a nearby ensemble.

At the heart of this joyous gathering stood Queen Avalyn, a mesmerizing figure cloaked in a gown of deep emerald fabric that shimmered like the lush forests of her realm. Her poise radiated grace and dignity, capturing the attention of all who were present. With her long, cascading auburn hair adorned with delicate silver ornaments and a gentle smile lighting up her face, she exuded an aura of warmth and kindness.

Today marked a significant occasion, as the beloved queen celebrated the launch of her new school project, an initiative designed to uplift her subjects through education and knowledge. It was to be a beacon of hope and progress, promising brighter futures for the kingdom's children. As she surveyed the crowd, the sparkle in her eyes revealed her deep commitment to her people and the unwavering belief that with education, dreams could flourish and potential could be realized.

The atmosphere was electric with anticipation, and the future felt bright as the queen prepared to unveil her vision for a more enlightened kingdom. Her heart swelled with pride and joy as she mingled with the crowd. She had worked tirelessly to bring this dream to life, and now, seeing the smiles on the faces of her people, she felt a sense of fulfilment she hadn't known in a long time.

But then, amidst the sea of joyful faces, she caught a glimpse of something that sent a chill down her spine. There, lurking at the fringes of the crowd, was King Henry. His once-majestic figure was now a haunting sight; bruises mottled his skin like dark shadows, and cuts crisscrossed his face, evidence of a brutal struggle. 

His royal garments hung tattered and threadbare, flapping limply in the breeze as if they too had lost their spirit. He seemed diminished, a mere wisp of the powerful monarch he had once been, exuding an air of profound defeat that contrasted starkly with the celebration around him.

Avalyn's heart raced, each beat echoing in her ears like a war drum. The weight of secrecy pressed heavily upon her, and the thought of someone discovering him sent shivers down her spine. With a glance around the dimly lit chamber, she ensured the coast was clear before leaning closer to her trusted advisor, Elara. 

"Elara, do you see him?" Avalyn's eyes darted towards Henry. "We cannot let anyone else notice. Take him to the infirmary, quietly. He needs to be treated, but we cannot cause a scene."

Elara nodded, her eyes wide with concern. "Understood, Your Majesty. I'll handle it."

As Elara quietly slipped away into the shadows, a heavy weight settled on Avalyn's shoulders. She took a deep breath, steeling herself for the impending event. With a practised smile, she turned to face her subjects, her voice unwavering as she greeted them, though inside, a tempest of emotions roiled. Memories of her brother's tragic death flooded her mind, each recollection sharp and painful, mingling with the bitter sting of betrayal that lingered in her heart. Despite the chaos raging within her, she locked it all behind her stoic expression. She could not afford to reveal her turmoil, not now, not in front of those who depended on her strength.

As the festivities gradually faded into the night, the sounds of laughter and music giving way to the gentle whispers of the evening breeze, Avalyn navigated her way through the dimly lit corridors toward the infirmary. The soft glow of lanterns cast flickering shadows on the walls, creating an almost ethereal atmosphere. When she reached the door, she spotted Elara perched on a wooden bench just outside, her figure silhouetted in the warm light, waiting with an expression that blended concern and relief.

"How is he?" Avalyn asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Elara sighed. "He's in bad shape, Your Majesty. The healers are doing their best."

Avalyn inhaled deeply, her heart racing as she crossed the threshold into the room. The soft light filtered through the curtains, casting gentle shadows that danced across the walls. There, on the bed, lay Henry, his figure still and vulnerable. His eyes were closed, framed by a tangle of dark lashes, while his chest rose and fell in the rhythm of shallow breaths that echoed the fragility of the moment. 

She moved closer, her mind swirling with a tempest of emotions—anger like a smouldering ember, pity that tugged at her heartstrings, and a flicker of something indescribable that fluttered just beneath the surface. Each step felt heavy as if the weight of her feelings was pulling her down, and she struggled to make sense of the turmoil churning within her.

"Henry," she whispered, her voice trembling. "Why are you here?"

His eyes fluttered open, and he looked at her with a mix of sorrow and regret. "I had nowhere else to go. I deserved to be banished, but..."

Avalyn's heart clenched. "You killed my brother, Henry. You took him from me. How can you expect forgiveness?"

Tears welled up in Henry's eyes. "I know I don't deserve it. I know I can't undo what I've done. But I couldn't live with the weight of my actions. I needed to make amends, somehow."

Avalyn's eyes burned with unshed tears. "Amends? There are no words, no actions that can bring Tristen back. You shattered our lives."

Henry's voice broke. "I know. And I'm so, so sorry. I just... I wanted you to know that."