The news that the Rowan host had landed on their coast would have been worrisome enough, but it mercilessly came with additional news: Lord Auster Vorgrove had not only permitted the would-be usurper into Eastpoint, but had pledged loyalty and the full military force of his bannermen. As Lord Monfort read the news from the south to the members of the council meeting, Janna stared vacantly ahead as panic thrummed in her ribcage. Owayne seemed to be lost momentarily in gleeful thoughts of war -- his idiotic behavior spurred on by the similarly-idiotic Lord Highstorm who sat beside him -- but Janna knew that when his excitement faded there would be a price to pay for the betrayal done by her kin. She thought of Alister, stripped already of his title and yet forced to linger in the capital rather than in the safety of Cloud’s Crest, and worried that he would meet the same fate as the Woodgards. Alister had assured Owayne of House Vorgrove’s loyalty. Janna had attested to it as well.
She wondered if even she could be protected from a bloody fate.
Predictably, Owayne’s paranoia resurged when he’d calmed from the euphoria of having the war he’d so often dreamt of. Both Alister and his young wife Gaelis were arrested on suspicion of treason, and sent to the dungeons while evidence was amassed against them. Janna’s attempt to intervene failed miserably: rather than soften the King’s heart, he instead readily lobbed accusations against her, as if they had already been whispered into his ear. Did you all plot with him against me? He had barked, did you all think me to be so weak? How long have you and your traitor uncle conspired with the usurper? What did he promise you?
Despite her efforts to placate his baseless accusations with attestations of innocence, she was nonetheless confined to her solar and kept under guard.
The madness went on for fortnight until the Dowager Queen -- in a rare political move -- went to her son and demanded he release the Silvanes from their imprisonment. The Dowager Queen Celessa, who relied heavily on the words of oracles, insisted that the King’s decision would be a deathly one. Given her already-accumulated losses, Celessa was unwilling to lose another son. While his mother did hold some sway over him, a more powerful factor may have been Owayne’s need for Lord Silvane to amass an army to march south with. Owayne relented to free Alister and Gaelis from their cells, though demanded they be kept under house arrest. Janna, too, was granted back her freedoms -- though barred permanently from her seat at council meetings.
It was a mistake to have ever allowed it, Owayne had said. It is no place for a woman.
With Owayne tucked beneath the wings of Lord Highstorm and Lord Monfort, Janna became reliant upon other allies to feed her the information that was kept from her. The cupbearer who served wine in the council meetings soon became an informant to their chief healer, Fermin. Fermin was an older man who had served the capital through several kings, and had in his youth been a companion to Janna’s uncle, Chief Councilor Arthur Silvane. His loyalty had been with the Silvanes in the interim, and thus he was willing to conspire with the siblings against the King.
With little to do in their confinement, Gaelis had fallen pregnant and required regular check-ins from the healer. It was during these private visits that Fermin would relay his knowledge to Gaelis, who would then share it with her husband and trusted handmaiden, Mya. Mya would then pass this information through a network of ladies-in-waiting whereby it would swiftly reach Janna’s ears. It was through this system that Janna heard the true nature of the invasion, as the version presented to the court tended to paint the crown in a favorable light. The King celebrated the strength of his liege lords to the faces of his courtiers, and said nothing of the bannermen who had gone turncoat. Whilst in court, Janna heard the tale of House Stanner resisting siege in the South. In her chambers, a lady’s maid whispered into her ear that House Tyde and House Cratter had bent the knee to King Arthur.
The pitiable truth was that Driftpeake lacked the forces necessary to be outsourced to the south for the fighting that went on. With each day that Lord Carsen marched his men south towards the capital, Arthur Rowan moved northwards. Small infantries were built and sent to aid in the warring, though they were comprised largely of conscripted commonfolk rather than trained and salaried soldiers -- those men were expected to stay behind to fight for the King. These troops of poorly-trained men and boys were little more than lambs to the slaughter; meant to serve as a buffer on the front lines for the blue-blooded knights who stood behind them.
From what Janna understood of the whispers she was given, much of the effort put forth by the council seemed to be funneled into convincing the noblemen -- whose fiefdoms stood in between Arthur Rowan and Driftpeake -- to fight on Owayne’s behalf. There was no talk of the King joining on the fighting himself. Word had spread far and wide of Arthur Rowan’s capability in the field, and despite Owayne’s eagerness to don armor, the council appeared to understand that sending their King Soren to battle would only serve to prematurely end the war. The strategy appeared to be for the Rowan army to fall while they still lingered in the south, and for Arthur to be captured and hand-delivered to the capital for his execution.
In the meanwhile, Janna tended to what little she could do from her limited position. In the daytime, she spent time alongside her good-mother leading prayer services, or visiting with the city’s poor and sick. In the evening, she attempted to reclaim lost power. While the King and his councilors leveled orders demanding blind obedience and labeling defectors as traitors, Janna spent evening after evening penning long letters extolling the virtues of loyalty to the southron noblemen expected to take up Owayne’s fight. Taking all that she knew of each family, Janna curtailed every letter to their individual desires: in one she spoke of advantageous marriages for Lord Archyr’s children, in another she talked of returning a piece of debated land to Lord Crowlin’s family, and in yet another she promised Lord Crey’s son a position in court upon their victory. She even wrote letters to her Uncle, which were not so much laden with promises of political achievement as they were carefully-written musings of love and family. She squeezed every ounce of emotional manipulation she could possibly muster into those pages, and signed those letters without her title, choosing instead to end with your most loving niece.
Just as information was brought to her in secrecy, the letters were sent out without the knowledge of the council or the King. It helped that Owayne wanted little to do with her in recent weeks, save for the occasional evening spent in her bed. His ignorance provided her the leeway to attempt to save their rule from destruction. She continued to write letters even as the Rowan forces continued to amass allies.
Despite her best efforts, there was little she could do to undo her husband’s failures.
When the host led by Jon and Randall Silvane arrived at last at Driftpeake, it had become apparent that they would be unable to march further than the city itself. The Rowan force was only a few days ride from the capital, and thus the combined armies of Driftpeake and Cloud’s Crest would serve as the defense against the oncoming siege. To make matters worse, Owayne was insistent upon being a part of the fighting force -- and demanded that Randall serve by his side.
While the second Silvane son was a knighted fighter, he did not approach the prowess of the men of the Kingsguard -- a point that Janna had tried to make to her husband over and over. If all that you and your family promise is true, then the bonds of loyalty will protect him, Owayne had replied with a sneer. No need to worry, sweetling, he had continued, we’ll keep your Lord father near as well. Alister, who had spent the whole of the war confined to the rooms of his solar, was mercifully prevented from also serving in the battle to come. He and his wife would be permitted entry to the castle’s fortress, which would house the Queen, courtiers, and wealthy citizens who were able to afford their place.
More commonfolk had been allowed entry into the castle for their protection -- or perhaps to serve as shields -- but were not permitted beyond the castle’s second gate. The expansive gardens overflowed with people seeking refuge.
When the capital was at last penetrated, Janna could do nothing but hold court. Women prayed and children cried, and Janna hated her husband and the men who had empowered his insanity. He had looked like a deranged fool even while dressed in his resplendent armor. Owayne had demanded a kiss from her before leaving for the frontline, and had nearly giggled when he suggested that he’d have her kiss Arthur Rowan’s head when he brought it back to her.
When news came that the first of their three walls had fallen, she wondered if Owayne was yet choking on his own blood.
The hour was late when Janna was roused from her place. The dowager queen had been singing a tune of mercy when a guard had arrived and touched Janna’s shoulder. The King asks for you, the man spoke, his tone hollow and his face pale. He wants me on the field? Janna asked, her tone hushed but incredulous. No, the man had responded, in the throne room. The Queen was silent for a pregnant moment; her eyes darting around the room of weary nobles as she contended with the fact that the King had, for some reason, abandoned the fight. She saw Lord Monfort laughing and drinking wine with his mistress, while his wife minded their young son nearby. She thought to order him along with her, but thought better of it. Janna wouldn’t allow him the pleasure of thinking she valued his presence.
By your lead, she relented at last, rising to her feet and shaking her head as several of her ladies attempted to follow her. As she followed the guard out of the chamber, Alister appeared and gripped her arm. You shouldn’t leave this place, her brother cautioned her, before turning a suspicious glare onto the man. Where are you taking her?
The King wishes to see me, Janna answered, her hand gentle as she pushed her brother’s hand away. I will return soon with news.
Celessa’s song grew fainter and fainter as Janna moved through the dark corridor, and through one of the wide windows the Queen could see the distant orange glow of fire. What is the news from the front? Janna asked the sullen guard, why has the King has returned? Without turning his head, the guard replied dully:
The second gate has fallen, Your Grace.
When they reached the throne room, Janna found it to be empty aside from Owayne, who sat silently upon his throne. He still wore his crowned helmet atop his head, though the jeweled armor now bore the stains of battle. Janna struggled to believe that any of the blood might’ve been from enemies he had slain. Still, the armor gleamed in the dim candlelight, and Janna pressed her lips into a thin line as she looked at him. She refused to acknowledge that it might belong to her brother or father, who were meant to have been at the King’s side. Janna moved to take a step towards him, and as she did she heard a soft thud behind her – the guardsmen had left the room.
Your Grace, she greeted, her words tasting like ash, why do you sit here alone? The battle rages on -- I thought you wished to see it through...
He lifted his hands to silence her, and in a gravelly tone divulged: the second gate has fallen.
Yes, Janna answered, I heard as much -- but the third wall will hold. Unable to help herself, Janna took another step near Owayne. His eyes appeared unfocused, and there was something about the way he postured himself in his seat that made Janna nervous. Even so, she asked: where are my father and brother now?
A small smile appeared on Owayne’s lips, though the gesture did not meet his vacant eyes. Dead, I imagine, he answered callously. Just as we’ll be before morning. There was an eerie calmness to his words, though in a split second he pounded his fists against the arms of the throne and shouted: why wouldn’t you let me kill him when I wanted to?! Why did you all make me wait?! I could’ve had his head on a spike! I could’ve had him killed before he stepped foot onto any boat! Why did I listen --
Owayne’s tirade was interrupted by a bout of violent coughing. When he recovered and lifted his head to look at Janna once more, a sanguine smear was left in a stain on his lips and chin. He did not seem to notice this – or if he did, he did not care. They will kill me, he spoke, his voice suddenly small and quivering with emotion. He stood from his seat then, and took an uneasy step towards Janna. They will kill all of us. The things that we did to their family…those who did not escape…that will be paid back. It will be torturous. He gripped her shoulders with a surprising force, and Janna could see that he was crying. He’ll string us up, skin us alive, and let the birds peck at our innards...
His coughing begin anew, though he continued to attempt to speak even as he wheezed for breath and sputtered blood and spittle; we’ll be paraded in the town for the commoners to throw their shit at -- we’ll only die after we beg for it --
Not if we surrender now! Janna exclaimed, equal parts angered and frightened by Owayne’s display. Not if we seek mercy and give him the crown --
I will not surrender! Owayne screamed at her, they can’t have me -- he can’t have me!
Returning suddenly to his seat, Owayne retrieved a slim glass vial and lumbered back towards her. My zealot mother would rather be flayed than die sweetly, Owayne said, his voice shaking with emotion as he bit into the cork of the glass and spat it away. But I know you are no fanatic -- he does not need to have you, Owayne asserted, and reached for Janna’s jaw.
Thrust into a panic, Janna struggled with Owayne as he attempted to force the poison into her mouth. His armor protected his body from her, and so she could do little but did her nails into the flesh of his face as she sought to free herself from his grip. You coward! She screamed, her head turned away to protect herself from the liquid, you will not kill me with you! I will not die because of you! She continued to yell for the assistance of guardsmen, but the door remained shut. The man who’d led her had known he was marching the Queen to her own death.
Though the struggle may have lasted only minutes, it felt as though it dragged on for hours. Janna scratched his skin bloody, and in turn Owayne’s bruising grip felt as though it might break her jaw. He released his hold only to slap her, and as he called her an ungrateful shrew Janna stumbled back and fell over her skirts. Now on the ground, she’d put some space between them, and scurried back further. He moved to pursue her, though another fit of coughing overcame him. Owayne lost his balance as he moved, his crowned helmet toppling from his head as he fell over entirely. The King struggled for breath as he lay on the ground, and Janna sat frozen and watched from a few feet away. She remained frozen even when his breathing had ceased, and only when she was certain that he was dead did she crawl forward towards his body.
Hesitating for a moment, Janna rolled Owayne over and was greeted with unseeing bloodshot eyes, and a face made nearly unrecognizable by the deep scratches she had dug into the flesh of his cheeks. Shaking hands reached for the helmet left beside him, and with a frustrated shriek Janna brought the hard metal down on his face again and again until his nose was caved in to his skull.
Taking with her the bloody helmet, she thrust open the door, her gaze widening for a moment as she found the same guard standing just outside the door. She could see in the dim light that his dirty face was tear-streaked.
The King is dead, she stated, her tone icy. Has the final gate been breached?
Swallowing hard, the man answered in a wobbling tone: not yet, Your Grace.
Good, she answered, and shoved the helmet into his hands. Your orders are to have it opened. To have the men stand down...and to welcome them into our walls. Bring them this as proof.
Your Grace -- the man spoke, though Janna had already begun to make her way down the hallway. Dismissing him, she asked:
Fetch the Queen mother, my brother, and my ladies before you do. Send them to my chambers.
Alister, Gaelis, Celessa, and five ladies arrived not long after Janna had reached her apartments. All immediately demanded answers, which Janna refrained from giving. The King would like us to take sanctuary, she said simply, you have a half-hour to gather your things. Take all the gold and jewelry you have, understand? If you are not back we will leave without you.
Only when the women had gone and Celessa had been escorted to a seat where she could continue her prayers did Janna quietly relay the truth to Alister. Their greatest chance at safety would be to take shelter within the walls of the temple -- and with the devout Celessa among them Janna doubted that the oracle would have any reason to turn them away. Additionally, the ladies of her household were loyal friends -- but beyond that, each was the daughter of a powerful house. Having them as allies would prove crucial, but having them as bargaining chips could prove necessary. Until it was decided which role would prove more important, the fact that they were able-bodied and could carry more gold and jewelry than Janna and Alister alone was enough.
When the party regrouped, they made a careful trek down into one of the many passageways that existed beneath the structure of the keep. As children, Janna and Alister had spent hours scaring one another and themselves in the neglected dark tunnels -- now their existence served as their only hope in reaching the temple unharmed. The group moved quickly across the sizable distance, with Janna and Alister taking the lead and relying upon old memories to guide them. Though both siblings knew that the passageways were forgotten by most -- their existence was considered by some to just be a myth -- they nonetheless held their breath and strained to listen for any sign of company. As they did this, they also attempted to assuage the constant quiet inquiries of Celessa: when will Owayne be along?
Soon, Mother, Janna replied numbly, he will come soon.
Grimly, pieces of him were already with them -- his flesh was still stuck beneath the Queen’s fingernails, though she’d washed away the blood caked around the appendages in a basin of water in her room.
As Janna had suspected, the presence of the pious Queen Mother hastened their reception by the temple’s priestesses, who escorted them directly to the High Oracle’s modest lodgings. As they moved through the candlelit temple, they could hear the blaring horns of surrender intermingle with the shouting of men and clang of metal. When the group was gathered into the High Oracle’s apartments, the sound was still dimly present. The elder man was still dressed in the clothes he had slept in when he appeared before the group. He was silent for a long moment as he regarded them, and then spoke knowingly: the King has fallen.
When Janna nodded, Celessa fell to her knees in a screaming sob.
When Janna and her brood had been escorted into the stone keep on the temple’s property which served as sanctuary, the first signs of sunrise were upon them. The air smelt of fire, and plumes of smoke could still be seen rising in several spots on the horizon. The clamor of the outside world was removed, but Janna imagined it had not abated -- and would not for some time. The only sound to keep them company now would be the prayers of the young priestesses, or Celessa’s weeping. The dowager queen had not looked in Janna’s direction since the death of her son had been revealed. It hurt Janna to think what her good-mother would think of her if she discovered what Janna had done to him before and after he’d succumbed to the poison he’d taken.
It would be hours -- if not days -- before they could have any news. Janna suspected the new King would know of their location long before she had much information on him. She only hoped that he had some respect of the common religion and laws of sanctuary. If he did not, he could just as well have them ripped from their beds and dragged out into the street.
The Queen -- now dowager queen -- had just begun to rest her eyes when she awoke to Alister coaxing her awake; crouching beside the bed she had been provided.
I have to leave, he said simply. I have to go home.
Janna sat up quickly in bed as his words registered, to voice a harsh whisper as she replied: do you understand that we’ve lost a war? Do you know what is waiting for you outside these walls?
Owayne said that father and Randall were likely to be dead, Alister answered, his expression darkening. Janna’s expression similarly crumpled, though she said nothing as her brother went on. If that is so, I am the Lord of Cloud’s Crest now. Our bannermen are scattered here, and some will have died or been taken prisoner. I have to protect our home. Once I am safely amongst our allies, I can negotiate with the Usurper to have you and Gaelis returned North as well. Alister paused, and Janna could see a flash of pain across his features. And the baby, too.
It’s too dangerous, Janna replied, though she knew it was too late to sway her brother’s mind. His answer was a soft I know, and the siblings said nothing more for a long moment as they embraced one another. When Alister stood to leave, Janna swore her promise: I will protect your wife, and your little son when he arrives.
When Alister was gone, Janna whispered a prayer on his behalf.
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