The Crowned Captive
Pretty Little Songbird

Morana stared at the ceiling, wishing to feel luxurious in her silken nightgown in the biggest bed she had ever seen, but all she felt was completely and utterly bored. She knew it was a new day, with the glowing orbs of light from the hallway having dimmed then reignited over the hours, but still, she had not been told anything. Cordan had made some small conversation on his watch, but his face had turned meekly apologetic and he had become silent when she had asked him anything of true meaning. She had asked for some books to be delivered but had been denied. She had asked for some form of other entertainment then, sowing or knitting or embroidery equipment, but had been denied lest she use them as weapons. She had asked for paper and pen and had been denied by a grumpy Rowan stalking in, saying she could use them to write court secrets. She had been given her meals, and then left alone. Exasperated, hurt and angry, she had retired to the bed and slept.

She had truly woken up on the wrong side of the bed, despite the bed being big enough to sleep a full family. With a harrumph, she sat up, glaring through the bars at the dark-haired elf who watched her idly. At her rising, he raised an eyebrow and smirked at her.

“Finally awake?” Cordan called and sauntered closer to the door. “May I come in?”

“What, are you eager to clean up Rowan’s dregs?” Morana snapped, surprising even herself with the malice in her voice.

“I did not wish that as an insult, Morana. It was a jest made between two friends in poor taste. You have my sincerest apologies.”

Not knowing how else to respond to such an admission, Morana scowled but nodded and waved Cordan in. She watched him, somewhat awed at the grace he managed despite being built like a man made to crush boulders. Without any warning, he flopped down onto the bed next to her and stared up at the ceiling she had just been studying. His head turned, and amber eyes glowed up at her.

“I do wish I could tell you more, you know. Let you do more. The lands are beautiful and the culture rich. I am sure you will enjoy it after the start to life I hear you had,” he began, a slight smile on his face.

“To be able to enjoy it I first have to live long enough to see it,” she replied, voice despondent.

“You think that the King would order us to keep so much information from you if he planned on killing you? A corpse can’t talk, even with magic. Only the living are worth hiding information from.”

Morana pondered his words for a long second, suddenly feeling somewhat relieved. Living in the Fae lands couldn’t be that bad if this was her cell. If they were as beautiful as Cordan said, maybe she would even enjoy it.

“Morana,” he began again, sitting up to look at her this time. “I know this has all been rather rough, being kidnapped and dumped in the dungeon of some unknown castle, but it will get better. My job may be preventing your escape at all costs, but if you need an ear to listen whilst you rant, or someone to give you likely poor advice, feel free to talk. Just because you have lived alone in the human world, does not mean you have to do so here.”

“And what ulterior motive is behind that?” She replied, already feeling guilty for it before the words even left her mouth.

“I didn’t come to this castle a free man. Maybe it’s a little bit of pity, but I am always happy to help someone who has been imprisoned for a crime they didn’t commit.”

“Thank you.” It was all she could manage to say to the genuine kindness he offered.

“No need to thank me. Rowan will be here to steal you away for training son, whatever he means by that. But we still have half an hour. Whatever you want to do within the confines of the cell, the time is yours.”

Amusement danced across his face, and he genuinely seemed eager to be able to do something with her. No innuendo sat beneath his words, and he had no expectations. Yet, despite all that, Morana could not bring herself to think of anything enjoyable to do in her luxury prison. The amusement fell from his face as she slowly shook her head, but the kindness there did not.

He said nothing more as he touched the manacles on her hands with a brush of his fingertips, allowing them to fall off, before walking from the room. Tears threatened her eyes once more as he walked out, and Morana scolded herself. There was no loyalty owed to him, no reason she needed to please or thank him. Yet still, she felt guilty, as if her refusal had disappointed him.

She pushed the thought from her mind and walked behind the screen in the corner of her room. She made quick work of dressing, today in a rich satin dress of ruby red that needed assistance to tie at the back She sighed, slipping her feet into the stupid heels she had been provided with and called to Cordan.

A wordless dressing and another mind-numbing wait later, and Morana watched as Rowan stalked down the hallway. She sighed as they whispered words under their breath, and Rowan looked over at her. Something else was said too quietly for Morana to hear, then Cordan gave her a grim smile and waved as he walked away.

“I trust you slept well, Morana?”

Rowan’s words snapped her slightly improved mood, turning it dark once more. She glared at him as he walked to her cell door, opening it and gesturing for her exit. She did not miss how well groomed he currently was, with the edges of his fiery hair braided back and the rest trapped in a carefully folded bun. His tunic was richly embroiled with greens and golds, and his trousers were tucked into well-polished black boots. Had she not been so absolutely angry with his existence, she may have even complimented him on his upgrade from the dishevelled traveller.

“I did not,” she replied flatly, refusing to move from the edge of her bed where she perched. She watched as the gentle friendliness on his face turned sour.

“Is there anything I can do to help you feel more comfortable?” He asked all the king’s man now. She sincerely doubted any concern came from worry for her well-being. No, he would simply be following orders from his overlord.

“Free me from my gilded cage, Rowan,” she replied, a broken laugh erupting from her lips. “Send me back to my miserable home and leave me the hell alone. At least give me a cell without guards peering in, watching my every damned move like I am some pretty little songbird. Give me something to do other than stare at blank walls. Make me not a damned prisoner.”

The tirade surprised even Morana, but she hid it. Not a word she said was a lie, and not a word unkind. She would not apologise for speaking the truth to someone who decided to pretend to be a friend. Even Rowan seemed to have no answer, simply turning away with a furrowed brow. Those green eyes finally flared with some life as he stared down the hallway, and his delicate pointed ears were pinned to the side of his head like an angry cat’s. There was a long moment of silence before he stalked into the room, took Morana’s arm, and led her away.