The King had knelt before him, in the rain, in front of the cave housing the survivors of his village.
"I've searched so long," he said, the expression on his face genuine, honest adoration. "It was the Apple, you know. That showed me you were the one."
"The one?" The way the soldiers pointed their muskets at the men and women huddled in the cave entrance made Connor nervous. He was barely armed, he could not save them all.
"My Queen," the King answers, as though it's obvious. "Tell me your name."
"Ratonhnhaké:ton," Ratonhnhaké:ton replied. The King's smile dropped.
"I can't pronounce that," the King scowled, "Tell me you have a proper name."
Ratonhnhaké:ton shut his eyes.
"I-- some of your kind call me 'Connor'," he said. "Not that I have spent much time away from my people, but--"
"Be my Queen, Connor," the King interrupted. When Connor did not answer immediately, still wondering if he had heard that right, the King frowned. "Be my Queen, or I'll exterminate every last savage in these lands, starting with your half-dead village."
"You would not--" Connor breathed, horrified. "I-- there are no words--"
"Is that a no?" the King asked, mildly. He glanced back at a particular soldier for a moment, still kneeling. "Shoot the old one."
Immediately, a gunshot pierced the air, and the Clan Mother screamed, clutching a bloody arm.
"Stop!" Connor yelled. "How dare you? She did nothing to hurt you!"
"I'm the King," the King said, as though that explained something. "Would you like to change your answer? I have an entire regiment not fifty feet away, and those animals don't look as though they have any weapons."
"I--" Connor began, trying to think of a way out. There had to be something. Some sort of loophole or... or a badly-worded phrase, perhaps. "If-- If I agree, you will not harm any more of my people?"
"They shall be afforded rights and land and all the protection I, their King, can offer," the King said, standing. He drew himself up to his full height, tilted his head back, and glared down his nose at Connor. "And your answer is?"
There wasn't a way out. If he refused or ran, he would doom every Native man and woman, from every tribe and nation and village. Hundreds of thousands of cultures exterminated, more people than he could count slaughtered. Starting with his nearest and dearest.
"Yes," Connor croaked.
"Wonderful," the King smiled and it was not a particularly nice smile. "I must ask you to abide by several rules, though. I am not mad, and you are a very dangerous man."
Connor felt his stomach sink. This did not bode well.
Gilded Cages 5/?
The King had knelt before him, in the rain, in front of the cave housing the survivors of his village.
"I've searched so long," he said, the expression on his face genuine, honest adoration. "It was the Apple, you know. That showed me you were the one."
"The one?" The way the soldiers pointed their muskets at the men and women huddled in the cave entrance made Connor nervous. He was barely armed, he could not save them all.
"My Queen," the King answers, as though it's obvious. "Tell me your name."
"Ratonhnhaké:ton," Ratonhnhaké:ton replied. The King's smile dropped.
"I can't pronounce that," the King scowled, "Tell me you have a proper name."
Ratonhnhaké:ton shut his eyes.
"I-- some of your kind call me 'Connor'," he said. "Not that I have spent much time away from my people, but--"
"Be my Queen, Connor," the King interrupted. When Connor did not answer immediately, still wondering if he had heard that right, the King frowned. "Be my Queen, or I'll exterminate every last savage in these lands, starting with your half-dead village."
"You would not--" Connor breathed, horrified. "I-- there are no words--"
"Is that a no?" the King asked, mildly. He glanced back at a particular soldier for a moment, still kneeling. "Shoot the old one."
Immediately, a gunshot pierced the air, and the Clan Mother screamed, clutching a bloody arm.
"Stop!" Connor yelled. "How dare you? She did nothing to hurt you!"
"I'm the King," the King said, as though that explained something. "Would you like to change your answer? I have an entire regiment not fifty feet away, and those animals don't look as though they have any weapons."
"I--" Connor began, trying to think of a way out. There had to be something. Some sort of loophole or... or a badly-worded phrase, perhaps. "If-- If I agree, you will not harm any more of my people?"
"They shall be afforded rights and land and all the protection I, their King, can offer," the King said, standing. He drew himself up to his full height, tilted his head back, and glared down his nose at Connor. "And your answer is?"
There wasn't a way out. If he refused or ran, he would doom every Native man and woman, from every tribe and nation and village. Hundreds of thousands of cultures exterminated, more people than he could count slaughtered. Starting with his nearest and dearest.
"Yes," Connor croaked.
"Wonderful," the King smiled and it was not a particularly nice smile. "I must ask you to abide by several rules, though. I am not mad, and you are a very dangerous man."
Connor felt his stomach sink. This did not bode well.