Connor soon leant that the King talked a lot. He would often lounge upon his throne, and ramble at length about how he had searched for so long for a worthy Queen.
"The Apple showed me that you were the one," the King said, smiling reverently at nothing. Connor watched him from the corner of his eye, sitting stiffly in the formal outfit the King had picked out for him the evening before. It was a simple affair compared to the rest of his wardrobe, a white lace shirt with blue silk waistcoat, cream breeches and a royal blue jacket, offset with silver accents and details.
Connor said nothing, and wished he could properly tie back his hair. That morning's Lady-in-Waiting had been ordered to pin it in a delicate half-chignon, and the King had been overjoyed at the result. It had not been even a whole week, and Connor was already sick of the King and of this false freedom that had been forced upon him.
"We'll need to have a proper coronation for you, of course. It'll give the citizens something more to celebrate."
"Why would they celebrate? They hate me." Connor ignored the King's glare. To the people in the cities, he was nothing more than a savage. Even before this nightmare with the Red Willow and the Mad King, he had been nothing to them, despite his efforts to save them.
"You're the Queen," the King said, on the verge of losing himself in frustration. "The citizens will be delighted to see you."
"They will curse us," Connor argued. "I am no queen. I am a man, I was their enemy."
"They will cheer because I am their monarch and you are my consort!" the King snapped. "You are the Queen because I am the King, and you are whatever I say you are!"
Connor did not argue. The King was clearly unhinged. To push any further would likely result in something terrible happening to the village, to his people. He'd only just gotten them back, he would not be responsible for their deaths.
"I hope you do not expect me to wear a dress to the ceremony," Connor ceded, after a minute. The King was silent a moment before chuckling.
"No, I don't," he said. "But rest assured I'll choose beautiful clothes for you-- not that your clothes aren't already beautiful."
Connor bit his tongue to stop himself pointing out loudly that the King chose all his clothes anyway, so it didn't make any difference.
Gilded Cages 2/?
"The Apple showed me that you were the one," the King said, smiling reverently at nothing. Connor watched him from the corner of his eye, sitting stiffly in the formal outfit the King had picked out for him the evening before. It was a simple affair compared to the rest of his wardrobe, a white lace shirt with blue silk waistcoat, cream breeches and a royal blue jacket, offset with silver accents and details.
Connor said nothing, and wished he could properly tie back his hair. That morning's Lady-in-Waiting had been ordered to pin it in a delicate half-chignon, and the King had been overjoyed at the result. It had not been even a whole week, and Connor was already sick of the King and of this false freedom that had been forced upon him.
"We'll need to have a proper coronation for you, of course. It'll give the citizens something more to celebrate."
"Why would they celebrate? They hate me." Connor ignored the King's glare. To the people in the cities, he was nothing more than a savage. Even before this nightmare with the Red Willow and the Mad King, he had been nothing to them, despite his efforts to save them.
"You're the Queen," the King said, on the verge of losing himself in frustration. "The citizens will be delighted to see you."
"They will curse us," Connor argued. "I am no queen. I am a man, I was their enemy."
"They will cheer because I am their monarch and you are my consort!" the King snapped. "You are the Queen because I am the King, and you are whatever I say you are!"
Connor did not argue. The King was clearly unhinged. To push any further would likely result in something terrible happening to the village, to his people. He'd only just gotten them back, he would not be responsible for their deaths.
"I hope you do not expect me to wear a dress to the ceremony," Connor ceded, after a minute. The King was silent a moment before chuckling.
"No, I don't," he said. "But rest assured I'll choose beautiful clothes for you-- not that your clothes aren't already beautiful."
Connor bit his tongue to stop himself pointing out loudly that the King chose all his clothes anyway, so it didn't make any difference.