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The chained cuffs at his wrist hurt. Biting into the chiton of his armoured skin. The fairies pulling him along seemed to delight in his pained grunts as they yanked harder at his bonds. His arms were crossed behind his back. His shoulder over extended as his wrists were bound together. His wings were trapped tightly under his arms, he had no escape. His shoulders were long since numb with the hyperextension.
He had been so stupid, to fall into the obvious trap. The small fairy contingent left to protect an outpost in his forest. Instead of the unprepared forces his mushrooms had told him would be there, he was met with the might of the fairy army. And their warrior queen. He was captured, nothing he could do.
He almost tripped as the fairies yanked him up the steps in the fairy throne room. His guards only laughed as he stumbled forward.
“Here stands the mighty Bog King.” one of them called forcing him forward. Into the open space before the dias.
“Bow before your queen” The whack to the back of his head was enough to dizzy him, falling forward, there was little he could do except roll into the floor. Curling his face away from the impact he lay winded. Humiliated.
“Enough” the voice cut through the laughter. Leaving a heavy silence. He managed to roll to one side, coughing in pain.
“Stand Bog King. I would like to look upon the face of my sister's captor these long months.”
Her tone dripped with so much authority he nearly shivered. As he struggled to get one knee, then one foot under himself he knew what he would see. He had seen her months before. When he had first taken Down prisoner. Marianne, the elder princess. In her dark purple tunic, sword by her side. He remembered easily how she had landed one single hit, a punch to his jaw before he had taken Dawn away. The only difference was the crown that sat on her brow. Her father's crown. The vaguely leaf-shaped thing, with the dark purple gem in its center. Her deposed father's crown.
“You’re nae my queen.” he grunted “I’ll not bow to a usurper” It was stupid to goad her. He was a deposed king, captured by his enemy, in chains. It was stupid.
“You're very brave.” She studied him. Gone was the fiery temper he had once seen, in its place burned a subdued fire. The kind of burning spirit that overthrew her father, took his throne and waged a war to get her sister back. Back from him.
“Or very stupid.” She stood from her throne. Her father's throne.
“Where is my sister?” That question alone gave him more information than he could have hoped for. Mairnne had him as hostage, but if she had managed to overpower the rest of his goblins, and take his castle– she would know where Dawn was. So the ambush that had taken him was dumb luck for him. Although, it might have been better to know that Dawn was safe, pampered even as a ‘prisoner’ in name only. Really, Dawn had been unwilling to leave due to the effect of the love potion. Not because he was holding her prisoner.
He didn't answer. Just drew up to his full height. Towering over every fairy in the circle around him. Taller than their queen where she stood on the raised dais. Even with his arms and wings bound, he was a danger to them and they knew it.
“Is she even alive?” her tone was resigned. Tired. Bog thought for a moment she was just as tired as he was, their little civil war had occupied so much of their energy for months. The anger at the assumption. He was not as cruel as the fairies. To torture and kill prisoners was far beneath him. Anger was enough to unstick his tongue.
“Of course, she’s alive” A few fairies flinched at his harsh tone. More shuffled back as Marianne drew her sword. Leveling it at him.
“Why? Why would the mighty Bog King keep her alive?” She rose from her throne, stepping one level down the steps.
Bog could only laugh. He was not the cruel monster the fairies thought of him. Dawn, despite the love position
“You forget, all I wanted was the love potion. You didn't return it so I kept her.” Again he was goading her. She took another step down the dais.
“Do not act as if I don't know she is bewitched by that very potion. Hopelessly in love with you” she spat at him. Disgusted at the thought of it.
Bog returned her disgust with a cruel smile.
“Why? Why keep her alive?” she had left the dais. Pressing the tip of her sword against the crest of his chest plate.
“You’ll never get her back” he spat at her. Maybe he could goad her into killing him. Better to die than live as a prisoner to the fairies until he starved, or they tortured him to death. Maybe she’d make a mistake and he could escape.
The pain of the unexpected blow to the back of one knee drove him to the ground.
“Don't” her tone was firm. Casting her gaze behind him, chastising the fairy soldier that had struck him. He stayed on one knee, unable to rise. Not without pressing the tip of her sword deeper into his armoured skin. She levelled her gaze on him.
“Kneel”
Her dark eyes, burning in the light of the room, were highlighted by the length of the sword that glimmered between them. For the first time, he was afraid she would kill him. Gone was the hot-headed princess, in her place was a warrior queen. A woman who would kill him to get her sister back.
She moved the tip higher, against the hollow of his throat, and pressed it minutely down. Pressed it firmly against his throat. He crumpled. The instinctual fear of it, the pain pressing his body into both knees. Lower as he settled– kneeling before her. His heels dug into the back of his thighs. His hips screamed in protest as he settled lower on his feet. His hands grasped at the bonds at his back, desperate. Afraid she might kill him.
He was at her mercy.
“The mighty Bog king” her eyes held his, “I could strike you down. Right here” She passed the tip of her sword to the other side of his throat.
“Send your head back to your people. Return you piece by piece” she half whispered it as she settled the tip against his jaw, forcing his head to turn to one side. The sharp pain of it, the bloody line it drew had him swallowing harshly.
“If my sister is alive as you claim” she pressed the flat of the blade under his chin forcing him to look up at her.
“Your sentence will be lessened.” She stepped around him, circling him, dragging her sword over his shoulder, and touching his wing joint. The vulnerable points his position couldn't protect.
“We march on your castle as we speak” he gulped.
“You will find the same treatment she did, I think. Whatever torture, pain, or kindness she endured" The queen was in front of him. Closer than she had been. She set the blade against his throat, crossguard cold against his neck.
“That will be your punishment”