General FanFiction

Know Your Place (Captive Prince Fanfiction)

"Know your place, child!"

The harsh snap of metal chains echoed resolutely throughout the room as The Regent's hand sharply came into contact with his nephew's already bruised cheek. Laurent's head snapped to the side, the source of the clanging chime as the chain and collar around his neck pulled tightly enough to make a man with lesser resolve choke and shudder. But Laurent was no lesser man.

"Oh, I do know my place Uncle," he returned calmly, watching with cool blue eyes as fire reigned behind The Regent's abhorrent gaze. His poise was concise, back straight, blood caked around his mouth serving as nothing but an infuriating reminder that no matter how hard The Regent attempted to strike him down, Laurent the Princeling would stand again and again and again.

"You know nothing!" the man exploded, spittle and dour breath showering the Prince's face unflinchingly. "What do you know of places! Of life!" He had taken some steps forward until his much broader chest was flush against Laurent's. The intent was clear; make the young man shrink away from his touch as he had so many nights in so many years. But it wasn't working this time. "Where could you possibly think your place shall be!"

"It is on the throne." Laurent's eyes shone with a fire that welled deep within his own determination, a light that could be quenched by no amount of ire. The Regent struck him again, and again for his insolence, yet every time those stark blue eyes came back to rest defiantly upon his own.

"You will bow to me!" he bellowed, sinking the ball of his fist deep into the Prince's stomach, gaining only scant satisfaction at the rush of air and blood he felt hit his cheek.

Infuriatingly, impossibly, Laurent chuckled, a grim expression of mirth set firmly upon his fair and battered features. "I will bow to you no more, Uncle," he hissed, a humorless smirk settling on bloodied lips. "And you will know what it is to kneel."

This time, as The Regent struck out with the heel of his palm, he felt his nephew go slack against the chains forcing him to remain upright. He garnered no satisfaction from the blow, a sick matte of bile rising into his throat. A snapped order had the soldiers on guard fleeing to the southerly wall to watch for Laurent's impending army. It would be mere hours before they breached the horizon, and The Regent wanted to be ready for them, come the hells or not.

The Regent paced the throne room violently, heels snapping against the floor and cloak billowing and twisting about his figure. The unsettled feeling would not leave him after the boy's defiance! He could not stop moving, hardly knew what to think; but he knew Laurent's games well. It had to be a bluff, this spiteful provocation. It must!

Fates be damned it would not last for The Regent to have his peace. Not minutes after he sent the soldiers scurrying to the wall did they return, panting and white faced, armor askew as though they'd fled for their lives.

"Regent! My Lord!"

"The army! The banners of Vere-!"

"They are here my Lord they-!"

"Silence!" All three foot soldiers fell silent as once, looking to the ground subserviently. It did not escape the man that they were trembling still. "What has happened!"

The quaking men remained still for but a moment before the centermost spoke up, eyes filled with terror searching his Regent's face pleadingly through his visor as he said, "The Army of Vere approaches, my Lord. The Prince's banner is not far, approaching quickly. Our men will not have returned in time to circumvent their arrival." He swallowed audibly, waiting for a snap from The Regent to continue, ashen faced and hollow-voiced. "Prince Damen of Akielos leads them."

A wash of foreboding dread swept over the broad man, though he would be damned if ever he showed it. He snapped his orders freely at his men, demanding they ready the troops remaining at the fort, and flew through the throne room to ready himself for the assault. So his nephew hadn't been bluffing, after all.

Damn him.