It took Fawn a moment to gain her bearings as she emerged from the darkness of the tunnels. Her hushed encounter with Garrick had left her deeply unsettled, the dank closeness of the passageways giving his words a somber and foreboding air. As she'd hurried after the servant boy, she'd felt the hard edges of a stone begin to solidify in the pit of her stomach, Garrick's warning wrapping around her heart like pale weeds.

"I will not betray your secret, Fawn. But I must warn you, there is someone else..."

Someone else what? Who knew who she was? Someone else who would?

It seemed almost silly, this prescience of dread, now that she was back in the cheerful warmth of the boisterous hall. Yet she couldn't seem to shake the chill that had settled in her spine. She wanted desperately to be back at Thomas side.

Peering around her, Fawn realized that they had exited by a servant's door at the very far end of the hall. Here, the tables were more numerous and grouped closely together, the rowdiness of the guests and their rougher dress marking them as merchants or tradesmen. She pushed her way carefully through the crowd, her eyes fixed upon the Godking.

From this distance she could see him in all his entirety, his bearing erect, severe, and savagely proud. As he sat presiding over the feast, he looked more statue than human: a vision of the first God carved from darkness at the very dawning of the world. All-powerful and unmoving.

No, not unmoving, she realized. Not entirely.

For though he held himself with near-perfect control, his stormy eyes were restless, agitated, ceaselessly seeking the hall.

Seeking her.

Thomas' eyes flickered to a stop, his gaze sharpening onto the small girl peering nervously into the crowd. It didn't matter that she was one face among hundreds, nor that her poor and common cloth was designed to obscure her from notice. To him, she walked like a beacon, his soul turning hungrily toward the light.

He watched with uneasy impatience as she weaved down the long aisle of tables, bristling as her little body was jostled by the careless movements of the crowd. As she hurried forward, she was clipped on the shoulder by the clumsy staggering of a drunken man, sending her stumbling back a few steps.

Thomas clenched his fist, his hand itching for violence.

All evening he had been on edge, his jaw clenched so tight he thought it would snap. He despised to see her this way, debased and struggling, her skin pressed up against by strangers rank with drink. But more than this, he despised himself for letting it happen...for not doing more to dissuade her.

As she made the last few yards toward him, he found himself possessed by an awful urge to crush all those in her path, to break something that would scream.

"Where have you been," he muttered restlessly, his gaze roving over the company to ensure they weren't being closely observed. "I thought I told you to hurry."

Fawn's stomach whinged at his greeting, the man towering before her cold and immovable as stone. She could feel her composure unravelling as she was forced to arch her head back to behold him, the emotion she'd held back all evening threatening to overflow.

"Forgive me master," her voice broke. "I - I got lost...and -"

Fawn shrank back as his enormous hand swept toward her, her entire world reduced to his palm in one swift motion. He lifted her up slowly, until his mouth had all but eclipsed her vision. His jaw was taut.

"What is it, little one," he demanded in a fierce whisper. "What's wrong."

Fawn shook her head as she grasped at his hand, her tiny fingers digging slightly into his skin. She didn't trust herself to speak.

Slowly, almost imperceptibly, his thumb began to rub small circles into her stomach, the familiar, rhythmic motion loosening the knot of her nerves. Her chest clenched, struck by the unexpected show of tenderness. She took a ragged breath, every effort bent on steadying herself.

"I think someone here knows who I am," she whimpered. "I - I think someone knows..."

His hand twitched around her, as if the news had sent a pulse of shock straight through him.

"What do you mean."

Fawn opened her mouth, then faltered.

How could she explain Garrick's warning without exposing him? Without revealing that he carried the burden of their secret?

She grasped more tightly to Thomas' thumb, her chest twinging with guilt. She hadn't meant to keep Garrick from him, it just never seemed like the right time. Now as the days fell by and tensions around her disappearance grew, she began to fear his reaction. Garrick had been so kind to her, she didn't want to risk bringing him to harm...

"I overhead a conversation in the tunnels," she stammered. "Someone here who knows who I am...I - I fear they may expose me. Expose us."

His jaw clenched powerfully, his voice fighting for control.

"Who were these people? What did they say exactly?"

"I - I don't know," she trembled, "a man and a woman...I didn't catch much..."

Fawn's heart leapt to her throat as the living wall around her shifted, Thomas' powerful fingers clenching and unclenching dangerously around her tiny frame. He seemed oblivious of the act.

"Did you get a look at their faces?" he hissed. "Did you see anything at all?"

She shook her head a frantic no, peering up at him anxiously. She could hear the undercurrent of fear in his voice and it shook her to her core. She hadn't even realized her body was quaking until his stormy eyes roved toward her, fixing her with the full weight of his attention for the first time this evening.

He spoke so quietly, his lips scarcely parted.

"Do you need to leave?"

Fawn's eyes flashed up to his, the care in his voice all but eviscerating her. His brow was knitted, clouded blue eyes almost tender. Anyone looking close enough could have seen it: a sliver of weakness in his impenetrable armour.

It snapped her awake.

She would not be the doubt that threatened his rule. She would not be the frailty that undid his reign.

"Please master," she choked. "Do not send me from your side. I - I have been weak, I know. I did not obey your commands, and because of that, I have distracted you from your duties." She swallowed hard, stifling her emotion. "But I want to serve you...I can serve you. I will not fail you again."

His face twisted into a grimace, weighing her words against the truth of their meaning. She squared her jaw, holding the weight of that enormous gaze with all the strength she could muster.

With a blink, he broke his stare, lowering her down slowly before him until her feet found solid ground. She felt the loss of him immediately.

"You will not leave my sight again for the rest of the night, slave. Do you understand me?"

She nodded tremulously, sinking into a low kneel with relief. Nothing in this realm or the next could have torn her from his side.

Her knee had barely touched the stone when his hand found her again, lifting her easily back to her feet. His fingers nudged her forward into a slight stumble.

"Go," he rumbled wearily, "take some wine for your nerves. You'll need it."

He lifted his own goblet, tilting it back into a generous sip.

"And let us pray that is all you'll need," he muttered, "before this night is through."

***

Josie laughed lightly, the sound sparkling like the breeze against a windchime. Before her, an aged lord with a peppered beard was recounting some incident with a wild boar that had the party in an uproar.

She hadn't heard the joke.

All evening her eyes had been dancing restlessly toward the King, waiting in frustration for Fawn's return. As the man's story winded on, she found her gaze straying back toward the titan, her eyes raking over the sheer cliff of his masculine torso.

She suppressed a shiver.

From far, he had been undoubtedly terrifying, leering over them all like some cruel and lofty God. But there was something about seeing him so close that was even more deeply unnerving.

It wasn't just the fact that his being forcefully dominated every inch of her vision, compelling her to turn away entirely or look downward in submission. Nor even that he loomed so large that it was impossible to behold him all at once.

No, for Josie, it was the imperceptible details, invisible from afar, that came monstrously alive. The unconscious twitch of a tendon in his hand; the veins in his neck the size of her arms; the steady low thrum of his breathing. It was a stark reminder that the monster sitting so casually before her was not some distant God, but a living, breathing man...a man who had the ability to raze Agraria to the ground with just one careless sweep of his hand.

As if to emphasize her point, his colossal fingers twitched, raising up absentmindedly to grasp a roast deer from his plate. Josie paled as she watched him grip the whole animal between pointer and thumb, the fingers of his other hand tearing the carcass in two as easily a shredding chicken from the bone. The awful mingling of her disgust and awe compelled her to watch the entirety of the gruesome scene, her stomach clenching at the horrible flash of white teeth before the meat disappeared forever into the dark pit of his maw. She tasted the bitter flash of bile on her tongue as she recalled the tales of his dark pleasures: how he had torn men's limbs clean from their body, swallowed them whole while they still writhed...

"He won't bite, you know," Silas' velvet voice dipped low into her ear, his mouth a mere inch from her neck.

She startled slightly, her breath quickening in surprise.

"You've been looking at him all evening," he drawled, circling around to face her. "I'm almost jealous."

Josie's stomach knotted. Though his words were coy, there was an edge to them that belied something darker. A warning: I have been watching you.

In fact, the more she observed him, the more wary she became. He seemed always to play a double-game: his demeanor flippant and aloof, his dark eyes roving over the unsuspecting crowd with the precision of a kestrel.

She nursed her wine, willing herself to remain calm. "Won't bite you say? That's not what I've heard."

Silas laughed wryly. "You're right, my dear. I should have said without provocation." He eyed the King for a moment, as if he wanted to say more, before his eyes narrowed in interest.

"Now, now, who might that be?"

Josie's stomach somersaulted as she followed his gaze, eyes stumbling immediately over Fawn's small form hurrying forward out of the crowd. Her body stiffened instinctively. She looked so vulnerable, entering the gaping space before her colossal master, as if he could crush her into oblivion with just one look.

"Well...so the King has found himself a toy..." Silas murmured.

Josie barely heard him. She was fixated in horror on the Godking's hand, which had closed the distance between himself and his trembling slave in one ghastly second. She saw Fawn shrink back before she was enclosed helplessly within his fist, her tiny body trembling as he lifted her mere inches from his face. As that savage mouth opened, Josie took an involuntary step forward, a scream nearly bursting from her throat. But he merely held her there before his lips, speaking too low for Josie to hear.

She realized Lord Silas' eyes were lingering between herself and the scene, the moment of betrayed emotion not gone unnoticed.

"Are you alright Ms. Blisse? You look rather pale."

Josie's throat tightened. His words seemed less like a question and more like an accusation.

"The heat..." she faltered, "the wine...I feel it has overcome me."

He observed her pointedly for a moment, dragging out the silence before he let the matter drop. The fact he said nothing more did little to soothe her.

"Please," he gestured smoothly. "Let me escort you back to the table."

Josie nodded quietly, his elegant fingers settling against the small of her back. She allowed herself to be guided back to her seat.

"Is there anything else I can do for you?" he questioned.

"Perhaps just some herbwater...and a cloth. I still feel faint..."

"Of course, my dear."

With a polite nod, he rose to seek out a servant, slipping out of view with unsettling ease.

She exhaled raggedly.

Josie didn't care much whether he fetched the items or not; she was a farmer's daughter, not some feeble maiden. She wanted only a moment of silence to steel her nerves, away from those shrewd eyes.

As she swished the remaining wine about her crystal glass, she caught a quiver of movement at the corner of her eye. Sucking in a stilted breath, Josie turned in time to see Fawn moving shakily away from her giant captor, his globe-like eyes sweeping furiously over the banquet before him. The casks were at the very edge of his periphery, their low position screened partially from view by a spread of food.

Her pulse spiked. This was it. This was her chance.

Looking about herself to ensure no one was watching, Josie edged her way forward carefully, heart thundering in her chest. She was nearly within earshot now, Fawn's back to her as she kneeled.

"Fawn..." she whispered tersely, "Faw- "

"Why there you are my darling!"

Josie spun around in alarm, her stomach plunging sickeningly at the sight of John's portly face in the distance. Judging by the way his forehead glistened like a roast pig, he'd had more than his fair share of drink. Glancing back desperately toward the casks she saw that Fawn had already turned away and was hurrying silently back to the Godking's side.

She nearly shrieked with desperation.

"By Saeros, woman, where have you been all evening!" he bellowed.

By now more of the company had noticed the newcomer, their bodies stiffening haughtily as he pushed brashly through them. Josie could see some of the ladies throwing her disparaging looks.

"John!" she snapped. "What are you doing here!"

At that moment, Silas reappeared with her items in tow, looking around himself for the meaning of the disturbance. His gaze finally dropped far down to John, his face twitching in bemusement. "Oh dear..." he mused. "And who have we here."

John stumbled forward, bowing with a ridiculous flourish."John Higglesby, my lord, at your service. And this here is my beautiful wife, Josie Higglesby."

"Your wife?" Silas turned toward her, his mouth parting slightly in surprise. He looked more intrigued than irritated. "Indeed. I have had the pleasure."

"Oh, I've not doubt you have," John chortled. "You see, Josie here has quite the talent for making...male acquaintances. Don't you my dear?"

Josie's face burned, fury and disgrace ravaging her like wildfire. She could have killed him for shame.

"John," she hissed, her eyes darting toward Lord Silas. "You know very well we are not yet married. Until then I am Ms. Blisse, as is the law."

John laughed uproariously, as if she had made a particularly good joke. "Oh, my dear, no need to be so modest. The sooner you can shed that awful name, the better." He turned back to Silas, shaking his head in mock exasperation. "Women, hmm? I'm sure you understand."

Silas' brow arched, his gaze roving over John as if he were a most amusing spectacle. "On the contrary, Mr. Higglesby. I haven't the faintest idea what you're talking about."

"Well, good sir!" he blustered. "Let me tell you a thing or two. When I first met Josie in Windemere -"

Josie turned away from the conversation seething. He was hopelessly drunk, squandered in fact; there would be no quieting him in this state. She cursed the wretched man. In the space of a minute, he had dashed her carefully crafted efforts to deliver Fawn and humiliated her before the finest gentry of Agraria. Any moment now, Silas would realize she was naught but a farmer's daughter; beauty or not, she would no longer be welcome in his circle. Besides, the evening was already beginning to wane. As the night pressed up more heavily against the castle windowpanes, Josie could feel every chance to help her friend slipping further away.

She peered at Fawn through the crowd, her chest aching with a physical longing at the sight of her friend kneeling a mere 50 yards away. She longed recklessly to run the distance and gather her into her arms, to comfort her from the horrors of the world as she'd always done.

As if he could sense her thoughts, the Godking's hand stirred, his long fingers extending to grasp the edge of Fawn's skirt. With a slight tug, he pulled the startled girl into his hand, sweeping her closer to his chest in one lazy motion. Freeing her momentarily, he placed his powerful arms back to rest upon the table, corralling her between them like a beast guarding its prey.

"Fawn? Fawn Braegon?"

Josie spun around, hear heart spiking in her throat. John was surrounded by more of Silas' party now, his voice loud with drink. "I must say, I'm not entirely surprised...she gave herself up as tribute you know. A foolish thing to do...meddling in such affairs... but by the gods, I didn't know she was wanted by the King..."

Josie's stomach vaulted as she heard her suspicions confirmed. She glanced frantically between the faces of the small crowd, panic roiling within her.

"But you know, misfortune does seem to follow her everywhere," John leaned toward the group, dropping his voice conspiratorially. "In fact, rumour has it she took up with a wealthy nobleman this past summer, until her lover cast her out without a penny...all very scandalous you know."

"John!" Josie nearly shrieked, her voice tight and shrill. "For shame! Enough of such nonsense. You gossip more than a hen farmer!"

John turned abruptly toward her, as if just recalling her existence. "Ah my dear, you see!" he exclaimed. "What did I tell you earlier. It's time you abandon your search for her. Good riddance to bad company."

Silas' eyes flickered to Josie, the coal-black irises almost calculating.

"You know it's most curious you should bring her up sir," John continued obliviously. "You see, just a few short moments ago I was knocked into quite rudely by a servant - slave - no matter. Spitting image of the girl! Nearly made me spill my drink all over myself, might I add." His brow furrowed in concentration. "I didn't think much of it at the time, but now that you mention it..." He began to glance about himself as if seeking her out.

Josie's throat tightened anxiously. She knew John in this drunken state, he was like a dog with a bone. The more forceful her attempts to dissuade him, the louder and more stubborn he'd become.

"John I do believe you're boring the company." She laughed shakily, trying to coax him away. "Perhaps it's time that we retire for the evening."

He continued his search, oblivious to her hints. "You know, the more I think on it, the more I'm quite certain it was her..." His voice was as loud and clumsy as his movements. "She was wearing a bodice of green. I noticed, you see, because the other servants were only in brown..."

Josie glanced about herself frantically. Silas was sipping his wine leisurely, his gaze fixed on the Godking, or rather the space between his arms. She felt the heat of the room pressing in against her.

"Enough of this John!" she pleaded. "You would mistake Fawn for a pig with the amount you've had to drink tonight!"

"Nonsense," he stumbled slightly, his wine sloshing over his hand. "I've barely drunk a thing."

"You heard what the lords said anyway!" She continued frantically, "Fawn is an outlaw of the crown, not a servant to it! It couldn't be her, John!"

He blinked blearily, mouth opening and closing a few times for good measure.

"No, no I am quite sure...I should think that..."

He puffed his cheeks out stubbornly, huffing in displeasure. "Well," he slurred, turning toward the crowd. "We shall soon see who is right.

FAWN!"

A shock of ice streaked through Josie's veins as John bellowed out to the rowdy hall, paralysing her where she stood. Before she could recover herself, he was blundering forward, calling out for the girl like a common drunkard. Josie stumbled through the throng after him, blindly shoving away bodies as she hurtled forward in terror. Everywhere now, heads were turning toward them, the Godking's eyes flickering awake at the commotion. She could see his gaze darting over the scene, the company growing thinner as John neared the edge of the crowd.

She caught his arm at the very edge of the perimeter, her nails digging fiercely into his skin.

"Shut up John!" she begged, her voice frantic and wild. "You have already made a fool of yourself tonight! Stop this now before you get us all killed!"

He turned to her abruptly, his wine-flushed face reddening ever deeper with indignation.

"I've made a fool of myself? I've made a fool of myself! It is you who have made a fool of me tonight!" he blustered. "Questioning my authority before the other merchants, flirting shamelessly without whatever... whatever vagrant casts eyes at you!"

"John, please," she beseeched him, "I beg you to stop this! I will be the wife you want...I - I will never question you again! But by the goddess, leave this matter be!"

"Get off me woman!" he slurred, prying at her fingers. "I said let go!"

With one great heave, he stumbled backward, crashing into one of the king's guard and sending them both men sprawling on the floor. Before he could regain his bearings, the soldier was upon him, wrenching his arms behind his back.

But it was too late. John was staring straight across the table, directly into the horrified face of Fawn Braegon.

The events that followed seemed to tumble into a sickening blur, John's slurred cry of 'Fawn!' knocked out of his mouth by the guard's blow. Blood roared in Josie's ears as the Godking's whole body came viciously alert at the name, his eyes flashing about with the hunger of a predator. Josie was shoved aside as a second guard broke from the crowd, bodies around her jostling at they turned toward the commotion. Gasping, she looked up in time to see the Godking turning savagely toward his slave, the girl tripping over herself and into a heap as his hand swallowed her up.

The violent shatter of glass exploded in Josie's ears, the shards of her goblet scattered over the stone mere inches from the King's wrist.

"I am Fawn Braegon!" she shrieked.

The Godking's gaze snapped toward her in an instant, his eyes narrowing with a lethal attention.

Yes, she thought frantically. Look at me. Look at me.

"I am Fawn Braegon!" she screamed out again, her tongue dry as a reed. "And I come here tonight with a warning for the Godking!"

From the corner of her eye, Josie could see John resisting the soldiers, the drink making him belligerent and confused. He didn't see the blow falling until it was too late, his knees buckling.

"The time of reckoning is coming!" she screamed out, voice straining in a desperate attempt to keep the attention on her. "The house of the Godking will fall!"

The Godking's eyes were fixed on her now, impaling her to the spot. She was vaguely aware of his other hand lifting, the flick of a finger calling forth his guard. Her skull buzzed with terror, her very innards dislodging from within her.

What was she doing? What had she done?

She could see the soldiers materializing at the edges of her vision now, pushing their way roughly from the far ends of the hall through the throng. Their careless movements were agitating the crowd, revelers pushing back against one another to resist the jostling. Josie scrambled up onto a banquet table, as far as possible from the seething mass.

"The South is rising!" she cried desperately, her mind scrambling for any words that would come, "Repent now or face the wrath of the divine judgement!"

The sea of guests began to churn, bodies pushing wildly against bodies, voices rising up in fear as the room tilted toward chaos. The soldiers were turning about themselves in confusion, trying to reign in the surging crowd as the Godking's eyes flashed furiously over the scene.

As Josie looked out over the commotion, she felt a surge of frantic elation. It's working, she thought, it's really working. Not one person in the room had eyes for the Godking's slave. Fawn would live to see another day.

At that moment, she locked gazes with the King, his piercing eyes sucking the air straight out of her lungs. As they stared at one another across the room, Josie was struck with a moment of sublime clarity.

She would die for this. And not only that, but a cruel death, a slow one, at the hands of the Godking himself.

At once, the room seemed to go very still, every sound, every sense stripped back to that cold, hard fact. She felt no panic as she stood there, no sadness or horror, only a bright, white smoldering fury that immolated her from the inside out.

Fury at John. Fury at the Godking. Fury at every man whose reckless vainglory had led to so much wrath, ruin and senseless slaughter.

As Josie stood there, consumed by her rage, she found herself possessed by a new strength, her fear falling away from her like ash.

If she was to die, she would die as proudly as her forebearers, her very last breath cursing the Godking to the shadow realm.

Lifting one hand up slowly, she clenched it over her heart, her voice rising into a low, slow cadence. As she spoke, her words grew louder, the familiarity of the verses swaying into a chant, a song, until her voice broke over the room like water on rock.

Oh endless plains of golden wheat,
Oh Wintermar, Oh Swanson deep,
Whose beauty can compare to thee?
The land of South Agraria.

"Guard!" The Godking thundered. "Remove her!"

Yet heavy does the shadow fall
O'er once green glen and boisterous hall,
For the time has come to take up arms
For the land of South Agraria.

With each verse her voice grew bolder, louder, until it seemed to swell with the power of all those who had sung before. Her eyes were fixed on the Godking's now, fierce and fearless in this last moment of dissent. She could see his composure crumbling.

So lift high the banner, strike fast the stone,
March onward to defend the throne
From foreign king and tides of war,
for the land of South Agraria!

The soldiers were striking a desperate path, their blows falling indiscriminately over the panicked guests. The crowd roiled, pushing back as the room descended into riot.

"Get her out of here!" the Godking roared, his temple straining with the bulge of his pulse. "Take her away!"

Though death be nigh, we'll never kneel
To God of iron and fist of steel!
For free we live and free we'll die
In the land of South Agraria!

Josie staggered under the first blow, the heavy gloved hands of soldiers slamming her off the table and onto the stone. For a brief second, a feral panic clawed in at her, urging her to fight back, to flee. She dismissed the thought; she would never give the Godking the satisfaction of her terror.

Ripping the mass of hands from her throat, she screamed out the last of the verses as she was dragged from the hall. Her eyes were soldered to the King's even as they burned with her tears.

Oh meadows of the stirring spring!
Oh swooping tern, Oh glistening stream!
I'd gladly give my life for thee:
For the land of South Agraria!

***

Author's Note

AGHHHHHH!!!!!
😬😬😬😬

Ok now that I'm done screaming over every f-ing bit of this chapter, maybe you have some words about it more eloquent than mine. I'd love to hear them.

Don't forget to like, comment, follow, fund

www.ko-fi.com/auroraboreale

Also if anyone is curious, here's an image ref for how I imagine John and Silas. You know, if you needed a reason to dislike John even more. (If you're curious how I imagine other characters you can head over to my page and look at The Godking storyboard.)

John:

Silas: