The Hollow Crown
As the weeks went on, Edward slowly began to recover, but continued to keep his true identity to himself. The Brindleton family had welcomed him with open arms. All of them sat in the common room enjoying a meal, and sharing stories. John, the man who saved Edward, looked to him and asked. "You never did tell me, my lord—what were you doing out there alone? Noblemen don’t tend to wander into death’s grip without reason."
"A fair question, Master Brindleton." Edward responded. "The truth is, I was traveling with a small company when we were set upon by a bear, The beast never came close, but it was enough to send my mount into a frenzy. and I was separated from my men in the chaos, lost my horse, and—well, you know the rest."
Jacquetta, who had been silently listening as she set the last of the food on the table, finally spoke, her voice calm and measured, a small, knowing smile played at her lips before she finally spoke, her voice smooth and unhurried.
“Well now, my lord,” she mused, tilting her head ever so slightly. “Perhaps that bear was wiser than any of us give it credit for. It sent you running, but not into the hands of your enemies or into the grave. No, it set you on a path that led you here—to a warm fire, and a full plate.”
She let the words settle for a moment, her fingers tracing the rim of her cup before continuing. “Strange, isn’t it? How the things we fear most can sometimes guide us where we are meant to be.”
Edward lowered his gaze, Jacquetta’s words, though spoken in kindness, struck something deep within him, an unshakable guilt that had been lingering since the moment he first opened his eyes in this home.
These people had given him shelter, warmth, and trust, yet he had not offered them the same in return. He had concealed who he truly was, spun half-truths to keep himself hidden. And while he knew it was necessary—knew that revealing his identity could place them in danger, and that did not sit well with him.
As the grand hall of Windenburg Castle filled with the murmurs of gathered nobles, the heavy doors swung open, revealing the newly established figures of power. Prince Alvin, the boy-king, sat upon the throne, his small frame dwarfed by its grandeur. To his left stood Princess Jane, her expression composed yet triumphant, and in front of them both, Richard, Duke of Britechester, addressed the court.
"By order of the council and the laws of this realm, I, Richard, Duke of Britechester, have been named Lord Protector to Prince Alvin. Until he comes of age, I shall govern in his stead, ensuring the stability of Windenburg. In my absence, the regency shall pass to my mother, Princess Jane, who will act with full authority in matters of state."
A murmur spread through the court—some in agreement, others in unease.
Richard stepped back as Jane gave a graceful wave to the crowd, her expression composed. Then, in a final display of unity, the three moved forward together, standing before the court as one.
Night had fallen over Windenburg Castle, casting long shadows across the silent corridors. The air was cool, and the only sound within Queen Cordelia’s chambers was the soft crackle of the fire and the faint rustle of parchment as she turned a page in her book. She had remained mostly confined to these walls since her regency had been overthrown, finding solace in solitude.
The quiet was soon interrupted by the sound of her doors opening, followed by the shuffling of footsteps. Cordelia’s eyes lifted from the pages, her grip tightening on the book as she took in the sight before her. Lady Charlotte stood just beyond the threshold, her expression riddled with unease. Behind her, flanked by two guards, stood Princess Jane.
Lady Charlotte stepped forward hesitantly, her hands clasped in front of her, eyes full of regret. “Forgive me, Your Grace. I would not intrude if I had a choice.”
Cordelia set her book down with deliberate care before rising to her feet. Her sharp gaze flickered between Charlotte and the figures standing behind her. “Choice or not, you have delivered the message all the same. Now tell me—why have you brought her here?”
Before Charlotte could speak, Princess Jane stepped forward, her arms folded, an unbothered expression etched onto her face. “Because, dear sister, I am making an executive decision for you. You would be much better suited to Willowshire Castle at this time. I am having all of the Bagleys moved there tonight. And as for this chamber—well, I shall be taking it as my own.”
Cordelia’s expression darkened, her scowl deepening as her hands curled into fists at her sides. “You have always been an ambitious woman, Jane, but even for you, this is a pathetic display of desperation.”
Jane smirked, a quiet chuckle escaping her lips as she shook her head. “You’re making this far more difficult than it needs to be. But if you insist on resisting, I’ll just have to make this harder for you.” She lifted her hand and pointed at Cordelia. “Seize her.”
Cordelia’s breath hitched as the guards moved toward her without hesitation. Her shock was evident—were they truly obeying Jane over her? She stepped back, raising a hand in protest.
"Unhand me!" she spat, her voice filled with rage as the guards grabbed her arms. "This is treason!"
She fought against their grip as they pulled her toward the door, her voice rising with fury. "You won’t get away with this, Jane!"
Lady Charlotte let out a quiet sob, her hands trembling as she watched helplessly. Jane, meanwhile, stood unmoved, a smirk still tugging at her lips as Cordelia was dragged from her own chambers and into the night.
The snow fell relentlessly as the night stretched on, blanketing the land in an icy shroud. Inside his carriage, King Henry sat in silence, the weight of failure pressing against his chest like an iron chain. The road to Windenburg had never felt so long, nor had his heart ever felt so heavy. As the darkened path finally led him into the castle’s courtyard, his weary eyes caught sight of a scene that sent a fresh wave of fury coursing through his veins.
A carriage stood in the courtyard, its doors open, with servants hurriedly loading trunks onto the back. A cluster of guards stood in the cold, their grips firm on a figure being forcefully guided toward the carriage. Even through the dim light, Henry recognized her instantly—his sister, Cordelia.
His fury erupted like a storm. He slammed his fist against the carriage door, signaling his driver to halt, before stepping out into the bitter night.
"Unhand her at once!" he roared, his voice echoing through the courtyard. "She is the mother of the king, and this is no way to handle a woman of such prominence! Have you all lost your wits?"
At the sound of his voice, Cordelia turned, her face etched with sorrow and defeat. Snowflakes clung to her hair, and her hands trembled slightly as she stepped forward.
"Brother," she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. "Jane has stripped me of my place here. She has taken my chamber, my regency—my authority. I am to be sent to Willowshire tonight. Your wife grandson have already been sent ahead. And Edward—" her voice faltered, her breath catching in her throat. "Edward is gone, Henry. No one knows where he is."
Henry’s jaw clenched, his eyes darkening with rage. He turned back to the guards, stepping toward them with unmistakable authority.
"Enough of this disgraceful display. I will take my sister to Willowshire myself. If I hear of any further force against her, I will see to it that the hands that wronged her never hold a sword again. Do I make myself clear?"
The guards hesitated for only a moment before loosening their grips. Cordelia wasted no time—she rushed forward, throwing herself into Henry’s arms. He held her tightly, feeling the raw anger trembling beneath her sorrow.
"That woman," Cordelia seethed, her voice dripping with fury. "She has humiliated me, cast me out like a common wretch! That smug, grasping—" she stopped herself, inhaling sharply as she steadied her breath.
Henry pulled back, resting a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "This is temporary, Cordelia. By the Watcher’s good grace, Edward will be returned to us, and this nightmare will come to an end. You must hold fast—our time will come."
As the carriage was prepared for departure, Cordelia took one last look at the castle she had once ruled. Her gaze drifted upward, toward the second-story window, where a familiar figure stood.
Cordelia’s lips curled into a sneer, her voice low and vengeful as she whispered under her breath, "Enjoy your stolen throne while you can, sister. For when the tide turns, I will see to it that you fall harder than I ever did."
There, in the dim glow of the window, Jane stood watching, her smirk still sharp as a blade, a silent declaration of her triumph. In her eyes, Windenburg already belonged to her.
