Darkest Nights | Love of Royals: Book II

III: Spectacle

It takes a few minutes to unstick my eyelids, whilst also rubbing the painful lump on the back of my head, and meanwhile I find myself overcome with various memories from... from whenever it was before I blacked out.  For all I know, it could have been days.  The first light that slips into my sight seems to consist of narrow slits divided by thick bars.  Thick bars.  Fíria, you stupid, stupid elf. 

They've put me in their dungeon.

I let them put me in their dungeon, because I was so infatuated with Prince Legolas, whom I came here to kill, for Ilúvatar's sake.  If my father could see me now... I have to get out.  I have to get out and finish this.

Finish this by bringing quick, clean deaths to Thranduil, Elena, Legolas and Erainiel.  Erainiel, who is so young—at twelve, she must appear to be about four years old.  Four years old, and loved dearly by her father, mother and half-brother.  I have never killed a child before.  No children, and no other elves for that matter—and these other elves seem more peaceful, more civilised, and more happy than my own people.  Why do they deserve death?  Why can I not just... let them live?

As my eyes begin to adjust, I find the light down here is so dim and muted (save for the dancing pinpricks of white fire on the opposite wall) that I must be quite far underground.  The cell around me is hewn straight from the rock, and so are the paths that line the outside of the other cells—paths on which the figures of patrolling guards can be seen.  One of them, a slender female with hair the colour of roaring fire and defined cheekbones accentuated by the shadows, glances my way whilst pacing down the path in front of my bars.  Upon noticing me, she stops abruptly in her tracks and raises an arched eyebrow.

'You're awake,' she says blankly.

Despite her attempt to seem indifferent, the two large daggers hanging from her belt, and the dried blood stuck to one of their ivory pommels, give her away instantly.

'It was you, wasn't it?' I say, wriggling into a sitting position against the cold wall.

A blink. 'I beg your pardon?'

'You. You knocked me out and dragged me in here, didn't you?'

Her features remain firm as she replies, 'Yes, and I meant to hit you hard enough so that you wouldn't wake up for at least a day. It's only been four hours.'

'Terribly sorry. Would you like another attempt?'

A twitch of annoyance flickers on her pointed ears, but she lets her lips curve into a smirk. 'Perhaps I should bring Prince Legolas down here so you can drool at him like last time. Ah, yes...' she says smugly, noticing the shock running across my face, 'that's why it was so easy for my guards and I to reach you. You were oblivious.'

My guards and I.  She must be the Captain of the Guard. And she saw how I was looking at the Prince... oh, Valar. She looks like the loyal sort, so I would bet all of my father's riches and treasures that she has informed Thranduil and Elena. Of course she has.  The second I get out, I'm slitting this one's throat.

'I'll be more careful next time,' I respond with mock sweetness.

'Don't be too quick to assume there will be a next time. Whoever you think you are, you cannot worm your way out of this one. You're in the court of King Thranduil and Queen Elena, and here you will stay unless they grant you your freedom.'

I flick at my nails absent-mindedly. 'I did fancy a rest, I'll give you that.'

The Captain clenches her jaw. 'I am not blind, I know there is something going on. I saw the way the King and Queen looked at you, and how they whisper to each other whenever someone mentions you. You're dangerous. It is evident that the realm is better off with you behind bars.'