Under His Crown, On My Terms

Don't look down, Isolde.

I repeated the words until they blurred into one meaningless sound.

You are eighteen. A grown woman. You have seen men bleed on battlefields. You have watched ships vanish beneath storm waves. You have stood through court ceremonies, executions, and the aftermath of war.

So why were your hands shaking now?

I kept my gaze fixed ahead.

If I looked down at the marble floor, whatever courage I had left might disappear with it.

Lord Alistair lay at my feet.

My cousin. The only one of them I had ever truly been close to.

The others were brats. Spoiled, loud-mouthed nuisances I had tolerated because we shared a family name. Alistair had been different.

He was the boy who used to chase me through the summer dust of the orchards and complain every time my father forced him to practice with a heavy wooden sword. He wrote terrible poems every harvest and insisted we all sit and listen to them. I had mocked every dreadful rhyme, but I had always stayed until the end.

Now all those bad rhymes and loud laughs were gone.

In their place, blood seeped from the gash in his throat, spreading across the white stone while his fingers twitched weakly.

King Vane stood over him, and he did not look like the monsters the nurses warned us about. He just looked bored. His sword hung loose at his side with blood dripping from the edge, yet he seemed completely unbothered by the mess he had just made.

“Is there no one else in this pathetic valley who knows how to hold a sword?” His voice bounced off the high stone walls. He nudged Alistair away from his boot with the toe of his leather shoe, not sparing him a second glance. “Your lords come begging for peace, yet you send boys to do a man’s job. If the next terms you offer waste my time, I will burn the orchards to ash.”

My father’s hand found the sleeve of my dress and pulled, his fingers shaking so hard I could feel it through the heavy wool. He wanted me hidden away. He wanted to keep me safe while the older men tried to salvage our home.

“Please, Your Grace,” one of the older councilors pleaded, wiping a damp palm against his robe before forcing the words out. “We only came to discuss the grain taxes.”

“Then you came unprepared,” Vane said, looking at the older man’s neck as if deciding how easily it would cut. “You negotiate with steel, or you do not negotiate at all.”

No one moved. No one dared to breathe loudly.

But out of the corner of my eye, I saw Julian shift. Julian had always been impossible to overlook. Tall and solidly built, with sun-browned skin, dark hair that never stayed combed for long, and the kind of easy smile that made half the unmarried girls in Oakhaven suddenly find excuses to wander past the training yard. The girls sighed over him often enough that I’d stopped noticing years ago. Julian never seemed to know what to do with the attention anyway. He could spar with three men at once without breaking a sweat, yet one compliment from a pretty girl usually sent him searching for an escape. To me, he was just Julian—the boy who’d climbed trees with me, stolen apples from the orchard, and somehow grown into the man every girl wanted without ever realizing it.

Now his fingers clamped around the hilt of his sword, his jaw locked so tightly a muscle twitched in his cheek. He looked from Alistair’s body up to Vane, his eyes burning. Alistair had been his best friend. They had trained together, snuck out to taverns, and shared almost everything.

Julian took a sharp breath, about to step out, about to throw his life away in a hopeless fight against the northern king.

I couldn’t let him. I couldn’t lose both of them in the span of five minutes.

My father squeezed my arm tighter, begging me to stay put.

I am sorry, Papa.

When my mother died, he was the one who stayed up with me. He taught me how to read the maps of our valley. He taught me the smell of the damp earth before the spring rains and how to love the soft green hills of Oakhaven. If I cowered behind him now, all that love meant nothing. We would lose the sweet summer dirt and the orchard trees to northern fire.

I pulled my arm out of his grip and took a step forward. My shoes clicked against the marble, echoing far too loud in the quiet room. I kept my eyes locked straight ahead so I would not have to see Alistair’s empty stare. The heavy fabric of my dress dragged through his blood as I walked, soaking it up, and my legs felt entirely numb.

I walked past the sweating councilors and the armored guards. When I finally stopped, I was standing directly in front of King Vane.

Up close, he smelled like wet dog, rusted iron, and cold rain. I had to crane my neck just to look at his face. A mane of shoulder-length, wavy black hair framed his hard features, the dark strands brushing the broad line of his shoulders. He stared down at me, his eyes narrowing slightly as he tried to decide whether I was brave or simply out of my mind.

“You want terms that will bind us, Your Majesty?”

I held my breath, terrified my voice would crack on what I had to say. Somehow, I kept my composure as I forced the words past the awful pounding in my chest.

“Take me.”

Silence swept through the hall.

“Isolde, no.” My father sounded as though his heart had just been torn from his chest.

Someone gasped.

Julian lurched forward, but one of Vane’s guards stepped into his path, planting the butt of his spear against the marble floor.

Only then did Vane move.

His gaze dropped to the blood soaking the hem of my dress before returning to my face. A faint smile touched the corner of his mouth.

“You?” He tilted his head. “What use would I have for a girl like you? I already have people to scrub my floors and pour my wine.”

“You need an alliance to secure the southern border,” I said, stepping closer until I could feel the heat coming off his armor. “Our people know these mountains better than your soldiers ever will. A siege here will not end quickly. Your army will struggle to move through the passes, and every day they remain in these hills, they will lose men and supplies while we continue to survive on our own land.”

“That is why you need me,” I continued. “Marry me. Pull your soldiers back across the river, and I’ll ride north with you tonight.”

I wanted to turn around. I wanted to run back to them and pretend we were just sitting by the hearth at home. But if I did, there would be no stopping what came next. I just needed my father and Julian to stay alive.

Vane watched me. He reached out, and his gloved hand settled at the back of my neck. The cold leather pressed against my skin. He pulled me closer until we were only inches apart.

“You are a brave little thing,” he said quietly, his thumb settling over my racing pulse. He looked almost impressed. “Or a very foolish one. Do you know what they say about me up north, girl? Do you know what happens to southern lilies when the frost comes?”

Beneath the heavy folds of my skirt, I felt the comforting weight of my hidden dagger strapped to my thigh. Let him think I was just a soft flower from the south. He had no idea what took root in southern soil.

I forced myself to meet his stare without blinking. “I know exactly what you are. And I am not afraid of you.”

He studied me without a word, probably waiting for my eyes to water or my chin to tremble. I refused to give him that victory. He gave a sharp nod and released my neck. I kept my hands at my sides, refusing to touch the ache he'd left behind.

“Good,” Vane said, turning away from me. His heavy black cloak swept over the bloody floor.

“Fetch a priest. We ride by midnight.”

He strode toward the great doors without looking back.

•••

Two hours later, the Great Hall was empty of northerners, but the smell of blood still lingered in the cold air. The servants had cleared Alistair’s body, leaving nothing but a dark, scrubbed stain on the marble.

I sat on the steps of the dais, my knees pulled up to my chest. My wedding dress was plain, sewn from thick cream-colored wool with barely any embroidery. It hung awkwardly on my frame.

A quiet footstep echoed behind me. I didn’t need to look up to know who it was.

Julian sat down on the stone step beside me. He didn’t say anything at first. He just reached out and slid his hand into mine. His fingers were warm, rough from the sword hilt, and trembling just a little. I squeezed back, leaning my shoulder against his.

“You’re an idiot, Is,” he whispered, using the old nickname he’d used since we were ten.

“I saved your life,” I said softly, staring at our joined hands. “You were going to draw on him. He would have cut you down just like Alistair.”

Julian lowered his gaze. “He was my brother, Isolde. Not by blood, but… he was it for me. And now he’s gone. And you’re going with the man who did it.”

Silence stretched between us. I remembered summer afternoons in the orchard, Alistair throwing bruised apples at Julian’s head while Julian tried to defend himself with a shield made of woven branches. Alistair used to look at the two of us, grin his crooked smile, and tell everyone who would listen that Julian and I would get married someday so he could stand beside us as the best man. We had heard the same joke from him a hundred times.

“He always said we’d end up together,” Julian said quietly, as if he’d read my mind. He turned his head to look at me, his eyes dark with a pain he couldn’t hide. “He said he’d make us name our first boy after him. A terrible name. We always argued about it.”

A weary smile found its way to my lips despite the ache it brought back. “Alistair is a terrible name.”

“Yeah,” Julian whispered. He squeezed my hand harder, his thumb rubbing over my knuckles. “You can’t go to Iron Keep alone, Is. You don’t know the North. They’ll eat you alive up there.”

“I have to. It’s the only way he leaves Oakhaven alone.”

“Then I’m coming with you.”

I pulled back slightly, looking at him. “Julian, no. You’re a knight of the guard. Your place is here, protecting my father.”

“My place is keeping you alive,” he corrected, pushing the grief aside. “Your father has the rest of the troops. I already spoke to him. He didn’t want to let me go, but I told him I’m riding north with the escort, whether he gives me permission or not.”

“Vane won’t like it,” I warned.

“I don’t care what the monster likes. I’ll wear the Oakhaven colors, and I’ll stand at the back of the room, but I am not letting you disappear into that frozen wasteland by yourself.” Julian leaned closer, his eyes fiercely honest. “We lost Alistair today. I am not losing you too. Let me do this. Please.”

Looking into his familiar face, the face that had been beside me for as long as I could remember, the one that had stood beside me through every joy and every loss, the cold weight in my chest lifted just a fraction. I wouldn't be entirely alone in the dark.

“Alright,” I whispered, resting my forehead against his shoulder for just a second. “Come with me.”

“Always,” he said.