webnovel

Your Majesty, the King

Mature content warning: Story contains depictions of violence, gore, and severe psychological illness. Silas, a young elven soldier, is sent to kill the country’s royal family, who is trying to eradicate the elves from the continent. Unfortunately for Silas, the crown prince is a young child, and Silas is unable to bury his humanity to kill the young boy. Instead, Silas helps the young prince escape, which sets off a chain of events that forever changes both of their lives and intertwines their fates together. Ten years later, Silas is a hardened soldier and spy, who has buried the events that happened that fateful day. Yet the crown prince, Clarence, has never forgotten Silas's role in his life. This leads the pair into a spiral of hate, war, and revenge as they try to put aside their differences and piece together the Yursear Kingdom, plagued by racism, death, and poverty. 1v1, slow-burn romance, hate to love. ____________________________________________________________ Your Majesty, the King (c) Cat Masseuse and Hunny Bee. All rights reserved. Any reposting, sale, translation, etc. without permission is prohibited. Please contact the authors with questions. Translation policy: bit.ly/3xP6d6P

Cat_Masseuse · LGBT+
Not enough ratings
177 Chs

Chapter 133: Insult to Injury

ヤッホー darlings, we're back! 。゚(。ノωヽ。)゚。

Chapter 133:

Insult to Injury

Resting in the cell with his head pressed against the wall, Holland's arms were numb from hanging. Cuts and bruises rested on his limbs, slowly healing due to the poor conditions of the dungeon. His matted hair made him feel dirty, and his growing facial hair made him even more uncomfortable as he rested his chin against his chest, letting out a tired sigh.

How many more days until they get here? Holland thought to himself. While Meredith was in poor condition, there was no way he could have been caught by those guards. They had already caught Holland, and he had kept them busy enough for Meredith to escape. But his worries could only stew in the dark cell, no word from the outside penetrating the heavy walls.

Captain Laurent had interrogated him repeatedly, thoroughly grilling him to slip anything, any sliver of information from his lips, but Holland refused to speak. At first, he taunted the bloodhound with baseless and nonsensical information, but the more time he spent sitting in the cell, staring the captain in the face, the more cracks he began to see within the Yursear Kingdom, and he could see Beau's bottom line being treaded upon, step by step.

The guards were restless, and while they followed Captain Laurent's orders, there was an air of discord between the captain and Malcolm, leading to more and more confusion amongst the palace staff. Malcolm ruled with an iron fist after usurping the throne, but there were still many hidden displeased with the new leadership within the palace, discontent with the faux royal.

The Captain was one such one.

After countless conversations, Holland finally asked the other man, "Do you really plan to listen to that incompetent fool?" Beau stared at Holland, and Holland only stared up, lifting his heavy head with a manic smile as he responded, "Unlike you, I only take orders from Eva, because I want to."

Malcolm was the only one in power in the Yursear Kingdom. There was no one else to command them now that the queen's power had been taken away. Beau was still powerless to act. He was from a humble family, and if he were to fight back against the new monarch, he would not only lose his position, but his foothold within the Yursear Kingdom. It was not a risk he could afford.

"Don't play games with me, Holland Joey." Beau's patience began to wear thin after days of interrogation with Holland. "My duty is to the kingdom, not to a traitor. Soon, she'll be captured just like you." Captain Laurent spat out, his expression deep, full of a grim frown.

"Traitor? Like the "king" sitting on the Yursinean throne?" Holland prodded further.

Beau's expression did not change, but the air around him felt cool.

The chains were pulled taut against the wall, and Holland coughed twice from the sudden jolt to his windpipe. "I have nothing else to say to you." After Beau's sudden display, his lips were tightly rooted shut, and any information he did spew beforehand was proven to be unfounded lies.

After today's fiasco, they began worsening the already grueling treatment he received. The soldiers restricted his food and began to deprive him in other forms of torture, making even Holland feel a true sense of discomfort, moreso than the disgusting conditions of the prison.

If they keep this up for much longer, they might not find my body intact. Holland thought to himself as he stared forward at the heavy door, forced to stay away by the guards in a sick effort to deprive him of his sleep. Other physical forms of torture would not work against Holland, but Beau knew exactly what buttons to press to make the other man wish for death.

Nearly a week had passed before Beau returned to interrogate him again, but nothing changed between the two men. Beau could only stare at the man and make an offhand comment, ensuring a response from Holland. "It's been some time since you've been captured. It seems like your companions are leaving you here to rot."

Holland stared up at Beau, his eyes glassy and bloodshot, reflecting the little sleep he had had in the past week. His patience began to wear even more thin than the captain's as he shouted, "You know what, fuck you! At least I can trust my comrades, you sadistic mutt." Bearing a bright white smile, Holland worked up the dry saliva in his mouth and shot a string of saliva at the captain's shoe, staining the polished armor with body fluids.

Used to Holland's resistance, the captain did not answer. He only turned on his heel and left the cell, leaving the heavy door to slam shut behind him. Some shallow words were spoken, but after Beau disappeared, the area fell silent, and Holland could only strain to hear as he was chained against the wall, a frown lining his dirty face. He could only hope that the dry saliva stuck well to his polished shoes.

He's only going to worsen his methods from here. Eva, where is my rescue team? Holland did not fear death, even if it were by the hands of his enemy, but the thought of leaving so much unfinished business made his heart burn in anger. Sitting and waiting like this, he felt as if all the hope he had would be extinguished in a matter of days.

Hours had passed, and it was time for Holland's once-a-day meal of scraps. His stomach had nearly attached itself to his spine as he attempted to wait for the guards to move, but nothing was said or heard, and finally, Holland could not take it any longer.

"Dammit, I'm hungry." Holland yelled aloud, hoping to attract the guards attention. "Hey! Where's my meal?" He jingled his chains, attempting to rouse the interest of the monitoring guards, but there was no response, not even a snort of irritation.

Something's wrong. It had been quiet for far too long. The guards would often move at random, making it difficult to follow their movements, and when Holland would irritate them, they would yell at him to be quiet, but today, no such thing was done. Could that be the rescue team? It had been countless days since he was brought here, but he knew it was enough time for Eva's group to make the journey here if they rushed.

He could only hope so.

Without warning, there was a thunking sound from outside the door. The sound of a lock dropping echoed in the empty halls, and slowly, the heavy wooden door to the cell opened with an eerie screech. The hand of one of the guards was visible from the entrance, but the rest of his body was obscured by the wall, making it difficult for Holland to see.

That's not one of our men. Resting with his back against the cold wall, Holland stared forward, his eyes narrowed as he lowered his head, attempting to look unconscious as he carefully watched the figure standing by the door as they kicked away the limp guard with little care, their slim, muscular figure much different from the heavily-armored guards.

The figure only stepped closer to him step by step, their eyes fixed on the chains hanging above the other man's head. A keyring rested in the figure's gloved hand as they rolled the keys on the ring, appearing disinterested in letting Holland go. They stepped forward slowly, as if approaching a wild animal before they lowered their face, nearly inches away from Holland as they said in a raspy voice.

"How did you manage to get here?" The figure asked, inserting the key into the lock as they spoke, releasing Holland from the chains on the wall. Holland's weak, heavy figure fell forward slightly, but he caught himself, rubbing his reddened wrists with his left hand.

"Well, you're the last person I'd thought I'd see again." Holland smiled sarcastically at the figure, his eyes narrowed in surprise as he rubbed his sore wrists, his expression yet to fade. "You look good, Theo."

Theo eyed the freed prisoner up and down, shaking his head, "I can't say the same to you."

Holland smiled, weakly gripping Theo's extended arm as Theo helped him rise to his feet.

"So, how are we getting out of here?" Holland asked, a weak smirk brightening his dull eyes.

Near the Yursear palace, the rescue team had separated from Kivah's group, traversing through the woods as they attempted to approach the space near the dungeon entrance. They could only abandon their goal of saving Holland until they were safe themselves, slowing their rescue mission once again.

"The search party is closing in just south of us." Neema said as Saoirse directed their horse, their expressions tense as they hastened their pace, moving with Vaan only a short distance behind them, monitoring the approaching palace search party. "It seems like they may be tracking Kivah's group."

"Kivah's probably buying us some time." Jasmine said with a frown, leading her horse forward as they hurried to the western palace walls, near the dungeon's outside entrance.

Everyone's hearts were beating hastily, but their bearings were calm as they continued towards the palace. There was no time to worry about their comrades, as Holland was still in need of rescue, and having the search party outside the palace walls could only improve their chances of saving Holland.

Be safe, Kivah. The escaping group thought to themselves as they hurried away from the scene, dodging the oncoming guards as they hastily disappeared out of view.

On the other side of the forest, Kivah split off with his group and hurried to the northern path, attempting to shake off the group of soldiers that had tracked them into the thicket. The group members had dispersed through the woods, nearly untraceable in the newly-grown greenery.

The guards were persistent and tracked him with skill, following his every movement like dogs. "There's one over here!"

Tripping over an overgrown root, Kivah cursed under his breath as he hurried to stand up, narrowly missing an arrow to his head as he moved to the left, smearing dirt on his face and hands as he lifted his body off of the ground and hurried forward, using a low tree limb as leverage to lift himself into a tree.

"They're in the trees! Archers, ready your bows!" Following Kivah's movements, the guards lined up their bows, using the pointed tips of their arrows to trace his frantic movements.

They've gotten even more persistent. Kivah thought as he zig-zagged his movements, moving in frantic jumps as he shifted back onto the ground and through the underbrush, nearly lowering himself to the ground as he ran with his back bent forward. Arrows flew over his head, narrowly missing his body as he continued to move, listening carefully behind him as he made a sharp right turn, throwing off two of the approaching soldiers as he hurried along.

Another arrow flew through the air behind Kivah, landing heavily in the dirt where his foot had just been, causing cold sweat to fill his back as he gritted his teeth. I have to hurry and get away from them. If I hesitate for even a second, they'll kill me.

Sliding down a small hill, Kivah ran towards the river. The water was not deep, and it would allow him to pass without struggling in the water. Fortunately, the current was calm, and in the large clearing, Kivah could only expose his back to his enemies as he ran forward, jumping into the river to cross to the other side.

Cold! He grimaced, wading as fast as the shallow water would allow him, wetting the bottom of his pants and soaking his shoes in water. He lifted his legs high, panting as he hurried to move as fast as his body would allow.

Just as Kivah passed the river and ran forward, an arrow shot out from a nearby tree and threw him back and to the dry ground with a loud thud, causing him to land on his back, making the sudden pain increase dramatically as his body collided with the dirt below.

"Augh!" Kivah fell to the ground at the sudden searing pain in his shoulder. He stared at the long arrow with a pale face, biting his lower lip as he stared forward at the approaching, well-hidden Yursinean archer that began to approach step by step, cornering Kivah like a predator.

The man was tall, much taller than Kivah, and his eyes were dark, full of malice and the desire to harm. His lips wagged like the mouth of a dog, and a smile littered his face as he laughed aloud, holding his well crafted bow and arrow as he pointed it towards Kivah, his armor shrouding his body.

"Only one shot took you down, you weak twit?" The man's voice was strangely pitched, his eyes narrowed as his smile only grew. "I thought the rebels were stronger than this."

Fear growing in his heart, Kivah attempted to use his dagger to throw the man back, but losing the strength of his dominant arm made his attack fail, and his arm was thrown to the ground before the soldier stepped on his hand, causing Kivah to scream in pain.

"You motherfucker-" Kivah stared up, the shadow of the day making it difficult to see the man above him.

The archer that had followed Kivah stood over the other man, his bow aimed at his face with a sadistic grin, his tongue wagging mockingly as he said, "Any last words, traitor?" The man's face was young, but the way his eyes looked made the man feel significantly older than his age, full of a vehement hatred that could never be erased.

Am I really going to die from this? He wondered, staring up with bottomless sorrow. His heart hurt, and suddenly, like a drop of water, he thought of his family, his village, and then he thought of Cordelia. I guess I can't keep my promise. It truly was his biggest regret.

Before the arrow could strike, a dark object flew through the air, hitting the man pinning Kivah in the side of the head. The object was a rock, nearly the size of two fists, but the weight was not small, and it made a sickening cracking sound as it collided with the other man's head.

"W-what?" The other man slurred, blood trailing from his nose and mouth as he was thrown to the side by the weight of impact. Kivah held his injured shoulder as he moved backwards, still sitting on the ground. The human soldier soon fell to the ground, motionless and still, blood slowly seeping from his head wound. The bow and arrow in his hand fell to the ground next to his corpse with little fanfare, as if he had discarded them.

There was an echoing sound of footsteps behind him, and Kivah turned his head quickly, unsure what to expect as his heart continued to thud in his chest, the impending thought of death still gripping his mind heavily. Watching, attempting to stop the bleeding in his shoulder, a figure moved out of the woods with their hands up, dirt plastered on her palms and under her nails as she stared at the other man with a placid gaze, relieved to see her companion was safe.

"Good riddance." The woman with the ponytail quickly moved to Kivah's side and lowered her hand, helping Kivah off of the ground as he nursed his injured shoulder. "We won't leave any of our men behind. Come on."

Kivah winced as he held his bleeding shoulder, the wound resting to the left of the crook of his right arm. Fresh blood stained his darkened armor, his face growing pale as the head of the arrow still rested embedded in his flesh. "Thank you, Jamie." He took her hand, lifting himself off of the ground before he stared behind them, anticipating to hear the soldiers nearby.

"Don't worry about them. Some of the group has shaken them off your tail." Jamie motioned for Kivah to hurry with an impatient wave. "Come on."

The pair hurried forward before the Yursinean soldier's corpse could be found, continuing to evade the persistently sadistic soldiers. Their group was too close to removing Duke Godfreed from power. There could not be any more mistakes.

_____________________

I'm sorry for disappearing for so long, all! But, I'm back! My health was in really bad shape, particularly my stomach, so I've been spending the last two weeks shrimped up in bed and sleep deprived... D: And work... being work stressed me out and made it worse :D

Not posting YMtK stresses me out so much, so I will keep working hard on finishing strong! Lately I have been thinking of how to develop Clare and Silas's relationship more, and I think once we finish the main story, I will continue posting chapters like "extras" to progress the plot, but they will focus on rebuilding the kingdom and fluff to send off YMtK! (ಥ﹏ಥ) I would feel awful ending without touching on it! Y'all have also asked about NSFW extras, and I am still weighing on that as it takes guts and research, but a darling friend has offered to edit if I do go that route. Either way, I want sweetness! We deserve it!

That being said, I'll try to take the next few days to take care of myself and work on next week's chapter! I was away for so long, and I'm so upset (╥﹏╥) Thank you all for being so sweet!! See you next week!