Chapter 5 Episode 5

Roxanne's POV

Locked in the Dungeon, Days turned into weeks, though it was impossible to keep track in the darkness.

The only light came when the guards brought me meals. Bread and water, barely enough to keep me alive.

The the cold stone floor offered little comfort, and the echoes of the dungeon haunted my mind.

My thoughts were consumed by my children. I wondered if they were safe, if they were eating well, if they missed me as much as I missed them.

My chest ached at the thought of their faces, their laughter. I had always been there for them, as their protector. Now I was powerless, confined to this miserable cell because of my love for them-a love the king saw as defiance.

I had begged, pleaded, and even screamed at the guards, hoping my cries would reach someone who cared. But the king's court ignores my existence.

My pleas fell on deaf ears, my existence forgotten by all except my children.

It was on the twenty-third day-at least, by my rough count-that the change came. I had been sitting in the corner of my cell, when I heard the clang of approaching footsteps.

The dungeon door creaked open, and a guard stepped in, his face as expressionless as ever.

"The king has summoned you," he said gruffly.

I stared at him, The king? Summoned me? For what purpose? My mind raced with possibilities as I was hauled to my feet.

My legs were weak and they trembled beneath me. I forced myself to stand tall. If this was my chance, I would face it with dignity.

The journey to the throne room was agonizing. The bright light of the upper halls blinded me after so staying so long in darkness, and every step felt like an eternity.

When I finally entered the grand chamber, the sight before me nearly brought me to my knees.

My children stood before the king, their faces pale but resolute. My eldest, barely ten, was speaking, his voice trembling.

"We want our mother back," he declared, his small fists clenched. "You promised us she'd be safe!"

The king's face was a mask of irritation, his gaze flicking between my children and the courtiers murmuring around him.

"Your mother disobeyed the crown," the king said, his voice heavy with authority. "She was punished accordingly."

"But she's our mother!" my youngest, Lyla, cried, her voice breaking. "We need her!"

The room fell silent as the king regarded them. The tension was unbearable. My heart ached to run to my children, to hold them and shield them from this cold, merciless man. But I stayed rooted to the spot.

Finally, the king sighed, a sound of exasperation rather than compassion. "Very well," he said. "She may return-but only as your nanny. She will serve you under my watch, and any further disobedience will not be tolerated."

Relief and despair warred within me. I would be with my children again, but not as their mother. I would be a servant, constantly monitored. Still, it was better than the dungeon. For them, I would endure anything.

**

My children ran to me as soon as the chains were removed. Their arms wrapped around me tightly . I held them close, whispering soothing words even as my own tears fell. This moment was worth every second of suffering.

Returning to the royal nursery was surreal. The once-familiar space now felt foreign, tainted by the knowledge that I was no longer truly free.

. I was assigned a small room adjacent to the nursery, sparsely furnished and far from the comforts I had once known. But I didn't care. My children were here, and that was enough.

Days turned into weeks as I adjusted to my new role. I was responsible for their education, their meals, their every need-tasks I had done willingly before but now felt like obligations imposed by the king's decree. My children tried to act as though nothing had changed. But I saw the pain in their eyes, the guilt they carried for forcing the king's hand.

The first major issue arose during a formal banquet. The king had instructed me to prepare the children for their appearance, ensuring they were dressed and on their best behavior.

I did as I was told, dressing them in their finest clothes and coaching them on proper etiquette. But as I watched them walk into the grand hall, their small hands clutching each other for support, I felt a surge of anger.

They were just children, yet they were being paraded like pawns in the king's political games. I hated the way he used them, the way he manipulated their innocence for his own gain. My frustration boiled over when I overheard a courtier mocking my youngest for stumbling over her words.

I confronted him, my voice sharp and unwavering. "She is a child, not your entertainment," I said, my eyes blazing.

The courtier sneered, clearly unaccustomed to being spoken to in such a manner by someone of my status ."And you are nothing but a servant," he retorted. "Watch your tongue, or you may find yourself back in the dungeon."

The threat hung in the air, but I refused to back down. My children were watching, their wide eyes filled with fear and admiration. I couldn't let them see me cower.

This time, I chose to stay calm. It would only result in problems for me anyways.

Another challenge came when the king decided to test my loyalty. He summoned me late one night, his expression inscrutable as he handed me a sealed letter.

"Deliver this to the commander of the royal guard," he instructed.

I hesitated, the weight of the letter heavy in my hands. Something about his tone made me uneasy. But I knew better than to question him openly. I nodded and left, my mind racing with possibilities.

When I reached the commander, I handed him the letter and waited as he read its contents. His face darkened, and he looked at me with suspicion.

"Did you read this?" he demanded.

I shook my head, confused and alarmed. "No, Your Grace. I would never."

He studied me for a moment longer before nodding. "Good. You may go."

I returned to the nursery, my nerves frayed. Whatever the letter containedb, it was clear that the king was testing my obedience-or setting me up for something far worse.

Despite the challenges, there were moments of joy. My children's laughter rang through the halls as we played games in the garden, their smiles a balm for my weary soul. I cherished these moments, holding onto them like precious gems.

But the shadow of the king loomed over us always. Every decision I made, every word I spoke, was weighed against his expectations.

. I now live in a constant fear of making a mistake, knowing the consequences would be dire.

One evening, as I tucked my children into bed, my eldest looked up at me with solemn eyes.

"Are you happy, Mama?" Liam asked softly.

The question caught me off guard. I forced a smile, brushing his hair back gently. "As long as I have you, I am."

But even as I spoke the words, I knew they weren't entirely true.

The turning point came during a royal inspection. The king had invited foreign dignitaries to tour the palace, showcasing his wealth and power. My children were to be part of the presentation.

As we prepared for the event, I noticed my youngest looking pale and unsteady. She clung to my hand, her small body trembling.

"I don't feel well," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

I knelt down, "You don't have to do this," I said firmly.

"But the king-"

"Let me worry about him," I interrupted, my voice gentle but resolute.

I informed the steward that she was unwell and would not be attending. The news reached the king quickly, and his anger was swift.

"You defied my orders," he said, his voice cold and menacing.

"I protected my child," I replied, meeting his gaze with a courage I didn't know I possessed.

The room fell silent, the tension palpable. For a moment, I thought he would strike me down. But then he smiled.

"Very well," he said. "But remember your place, Roxanne. Your loyalty is not to them, it is to me."

That night, as I sat by my daughter's bedside, I realized the truth. I could no longer endure this life of servitude and fear. My children deserved better. They deserved freedom, happiness, and a mother who could truly protect them.

I began to plan, my resolve hardening with each passing day. If the king thought he could control me, he was gravely mistaken. I would find a way to escape this gilded cage and take my children with me.