Crown of Thorns | Yandere Queen X Male Reader

8. Brother

Consciousness returned to you in fragments, each piece a sharp jab to your weary eyes as the sun continued its assault.

The last thing you remembered was the cold kiss of steel against your skin, a thumb brutalising your flesh, the world tilting sideways, and then darkness. Now, as you lay in the soft embrace of a bed not your own, you became acutely aware of two things: the warm press of a body against yours and the unmistakable edge of a blade to your chest.

You dared not move, for fear of waking the slumbering figure whose breaths came in gentle, rhythmic whispers against your neck. Talia held you close, like a child would a teddy bear, almost as if she feared you would dissappear from her grip. As if you were that lucky.

Her hand, the one not wielding the knife, was splayed across your heart as if to feel the very life she had spared.

All you could really do in this situation was sigh deeply, resting your head back against her royal velvet pillow. At least you were comfortable. Besides the knife, that is.

The sun had reached just high enough where it peeked over the top of the stone walls, bleeding through her balcony door. It was in this lighting that you could make out the contours of her face, softened in sleep. The same face that had been a mask of determination in the massacre now seemed almost serene. Yet, the knife reminded you of the precariousness of his situation.

One twitch, and she could end you now.

The silence of the chamber shattered with the force of the door slamming against the wall. Talia's eyes snapped open, the knife at your chest wavering for a perilous second before she regained her composure. You sweatdropped slightly.

Alva stood in the doorway, her armor clinking with the haste of her arrival.

Alva: "Your Highness."

Alva's voice boomed, a stark contrast to the quietude of moments before. Literally the last thing you wanted to hear at this godforsaken hour.

Alva: "Your brother has returned to the capital."

Such words hung heavy in the air, and Talia's grip on the knife tightened. You could see the anger brewing in her eyes, a tempest of emotions that you dared not interrupt.

You could tell purely from her reaction that her brother's return was not the news she had hoped to wake to, and her body tensed as if readying for another battle.

Alva, oblivious to the tension, continued.

Alva: "He demands an audience with you immediately."

Talia: "Tch, of course he did. Impatient as ever."

Talia released you, the knife now pointed away as she rose from the bed, her movements fluid and deliberate. You finally exhaled.

Talia had slept in her clothes from the night prior, your blood scattered generously across the once clean sheets and up the side of Talia's chest. She didn't seem to care.

Talia: "Leave."

(Y/N): "Happily."

In the space of a second, you vault the bed, but in the same purple blur as the night before, Talia was before you, knife readily at your throat.

Talia: "Not. You."

Alva only nodded and left, heeding the Princesses' words.

(Y/N): "I'm almost sad to see her go."

Glancing down at Talia, you met her crimson gaze. Grabbing the blade of the knife, you move it to the side, pointing away from you.

Talia only responded by resting her forehead against your chest. You'd never seen someone act so affectionate towards a prisoner. Was this reverse Stockholm syndrome?

Talia: "Come. Bath time."

(Y/N): "After you."

Talia: "Cute, but not this time. You're keeping me company."

Wrapping her hand around your wrist, she drags you towards her bathroom.

_________________

The warmth of the bath had been a brief respite. You'd almost forgotten that she'd slaughtered all your men and taken you hostage as she eagerly washed your back. You could quite easily fight her here and now, especially since you saw where she kept the swords, but there's no honor in a pointless defeat. You'd make your escape in due time.

The two of you had bathed in silence, each lost in your own thoughts, the water whispering over skin and stone alike. Now, as you stepped from the steam and into the cooler air of the chamber, reality set back in with the weight of wet cloaks.

Talia dressed swiftly, her fingers deftly lacing up the sides of her armored bodice. You merely watched her, the memory of the bath still clinging to your skin, as she transformed back into the fierce princess you'd grown accustomed to. Her hair, once loose and flowing, was now braided back into opulence.

Talia: "It is time."

Talia let out a soft sigh. You could tell she hated her brother. You just hoped that he was half as manipulating as Talia. Maybe he could get you out of here.

You nodded, donning your own attire that the servants had provided, a simple tunic, breeches, and golden gauntlets.

_________

The throne room was a cavernous space, echoes of past glories haunting its every corner in the form of paintings. You stood a few paces behind Princess Talia, your gaze never leaving her back. She walked with purpose, her armor clinking softly. Rounding the corner, you spotted what looked to be a battalion of armed guards bound in black armor, and at the back, was what could only be described as the most punchable face you had ever seen.

The figure lounged upon the throne, his foot propped up lazily as he watched the two of you enter, a smirk playing upon his lips. Pure malice.

He sported the same crimson orbs as Talia, yet hungrier, darker. His hair was short a midnight black. He looked like a twat.

Johan: "Dear sister."

The man drawled, his voice dripping with mock affection.

Johan: "The crown suits you. Pity it's not yours by right."

Talia's hands clenched into fists, the only sign of her simmering rage. You felt a strange surge of protectiveness, a desire to shield her from the mans cruelty. But Talia needed no protection, she was arguably more terrifying than her brother.

Johan: "Whilst I fight for our families honor, you merely lay in bed with enemy."

His eyes land on you as he sizes you up before licking his lips. By the gods, you wanted to kill him.

Johan: "Although I admire your method, little one. Mentally breaking someone to avoid an arranged marriage? Inspired work."

Talia: "So, where, pray tell, are our dear sisters?"

Johan: "Fighting in the east. Making our parents proud. God rest their souls."

Upon saying this, his gaze locked back on to Talia. You could feel the hatred seeping from the both of them.

Johan's laughter echoed, a sound devoid of warmth.

Johan: "I'll let you play happy families, for now. I still have my conquest in the south to finish. Then I'm coming for my crown."

You watched as Talia took a measured step forward, her presence commanding the room.

Talia: "We'll see. You've always lacked ambition, brother. Ambition is for those who seek power for themselves. I seek it for the good of the kingdom."

Johan rises, his height casting a long shadow across the marble floor.

Johan: "Then let us see whose ambition will prevail, dear sister."