The Cruel King and The Captured Queen

Chapter 11 - Part 1 - Father

Silently, guards stand post at my open down while the King is absent. Not one had dared to glance back at me, but I had stared at them for a long while full of uncertainty. The attack had me suspicious of everyone, what if one of them favoured the Queen and rebelled against the King's orders? The thought had faded after a long while, and I close my eyes. The disastrous state my room is currently in only reminds me of the attack that had just occurred. 

Echoing footsteps from servants rushing through the halls trails into my room. Why are the guards even here? If the servants are about to clean up, then the battle is won. Which means my family is dead. Where would I go now? Clearly, the King is intelligent enough to realize I have nowhere to run to, the guards becoming useless.

Silently, I cry sitting on the bed, occasionally glaring at the door. The sympathetic looks of the servants haunting me as they peek in on their way by. Word must have spread quickly of who the attackers were. Fear of the same outcome as the Queen haunts the faces of some soldiers as they glance into my room on their way by. No one had anticipated that after a battle like this the King would turn against his own queen.

In minutes, everything has changed for me. Will my family receive a proper burial? Of course not, my father was murdered like a traitor! Getting up, I walk over towards the desk, touching the quill in memory. What if I had told them of the pregnancy? Would they still have come for me? Would they still be alive?

My heart aches as I think back to my motivation towards writing the letter. I was afraid of the King finding out about the child. My greatest fear is Chadwick's reaction towards the King's announcement of an heir. My absence for months would have been proof enough for him to realize it was my child. The only outcome I had pictured was my families banishment, not their death. They are all dead because of my childish fears. My family are gone, my friends as well. I'm such a fool.

Someone clears their throat by the door, King Thaddeus has returned still dressed in his armour. His hair greased and wavy from sweat during battle. Oblivious to my current situation, he leans against the door frame impatiently.

"Claire, come with me," he barks out his order.

I stare at him with disgust burning through my vision, my family died because of his orders. "No," I whine out angrily.

His eyes finally land on me as he registers my tear stained face, "Why are you crying?" His face scrunches up in confusion.

How dare he! Not only have I lost everyone I ever loved but I was almost murdered by his wife!

"My family," I hiss at him.

How can he ask me such things? What happened to the Traveller who came to the library with me? Who saw me for me? Am I his enemy now the daughter of a traitor? Or has he completely disconnected the thought of the people he slaughtered being my blood?

"Are traitors, do not bother yourself with their wellbeing," he dismisses my feelings.

Is this how he is dealing with his feelings about his wife? Sees her as a traitor, nothing more? Then again he is the King. Without a second thought, no questions asked he jailed his wife. Tossed her away like a traitor, staining her name forever. I can't blame her for her actions. Did he honestly not think or care of the repercussions of having his pregnant 'mistress' in the castle along with his wife? He is a monster. What is he going to do to her? Whatever it is, could happen to me, or worse, I was nothing more than a breeder to him.

"They are still my family," I screech, not caring about the repercussions. Once I bare this child, I'm as good as dead. I might as well stop hiding my feelings.

All of this is my fault. Queen Katherine was right, I should have lied. I should have run. I shouldn't have written that letter. My family came for me and started a bloody battle in the castle. I am to blame for all of this. I'm to blame for what happens to Queen Katherine. Her life is on my conscious but in the hands of the murderer before me.