Bartholomew took a slow breath before continuing, his expression becoming clouded as he began to recount his old memories.
"It started almost twenty years ago in the Lycan King's reign, this particular chain of events.I suppose, really, that you need to understand the kind of man he was before I explain what happened to Greyson's mother."
Ann tilted her head and snorted loudly.
"Well we already know he wasn't exactly father of the year, I can probably guess the rest..."
"That's putting it mildly," Bartholomew muttered as he shook his head. "His entire court was ruled purely by fear and oppression, but what I saw that day, even knowing what he was capable of, it still unsettles me."
"He sounds like a complete arsehole already," Maeve quipped as Bartholomew took a shaky breath, steadying himself before he continued.
"This particular day he held an execution in public, like he always did. It wasn't anything new at all, if you had spent enough time there, I suppose you became numb to the frequent displays of violence." he shrugged helplessly as his fingers laced around themselves while he talked.
"The accused on that day was a breeder." He said, uttering the word as though it were a curse, disgust dripping from every syllable, "She had miscarried a child of Lycan blood. A tragedy by any reasonable standard, but to him? It was a crime. Even at her young age…she couldn't have been more than sixteen, perhaps seventeen at best and still, he saw her as nothing more than a waste of his precious resources. He claimed she was 'broken' and no longer of use so had his cruellest men ensure that she suffered terribly, on her knees, in front of everyone gathered."
Adam's jaw tightened as his words sank in and a low growl from his wolf rippled throughout the room.
"And no one challenged him?" he snarled, his lip curling in barely disguised fury.
Bartholomew gave a humorless laugh and shook his head.
"They wouldn't dare, it would mean a fate worse than death." He said, before his face changed suddenly and a cloud of sadness accompanied by a wistful smile settled on his face, "Except for one person. Greyson's mother."
Ann leaned forward, interest sparking in her eyes.
"She stood up," Bartholomew continued, "right there in front of his court and argued with him fiercely that the young woman was grieving, not broken and that she didn't deserve the punishment for something that she had no control over. She even went so far as to suggest that perhaps she had miscarried because of his own poor treatment of the females that he kept locked away in the darkness with no access to fresh air for the sole purpose of breeding."
"She sounds like our kind of woman," Maeve grinned widely, "But fuck that Lycan King, I hope his dick falls off." she added as an afterthought.
"She didn't stop there either," Bartholomew continued, his smile fading, "She challenged him openly again and argued that she was still one of their people, whatever rank she held and was not just some tool to be discarded."
Bartholomew shook his head again as if in disbelief at his own words.
"I swear that in that instant, you could have heard a pin drop the moment she finished speaking. Nobody, and I mean nobody, spoke to him like that and lived to talk about it afterwards."
"And how did he take it?" Ann asked dryly, knowing full well what the answer was going to be.
"How do you think?" Bartholomew snorted. "He made her watch as his men drew the poor womans death out far longer than anyone ever thought possible…the poor girl suffered tremendously. Once that was over, he turned that anger straight on his mate. He accused her of weakening the crown and said that she was corrupting his bloodline with softness that had no place in their society. That night, he nearly drove his point home in blood."
Maeve shifted uneasily. "You mean…?"
"Yes." Bartholomew's mouth thinned. "He intended to kill her. And when the younger boy, barely a toddler, started crying during his rage, he nearly struck him down too. If it weren't for one guard stepping in, I wouldn't be here telling you this.He managed to persuade the king that the people would not take kindly to their Queen's disappearance."
"Who was the guard?" Adam asked.
"A childhood companion of hers," Bartholomew explained. "He couldn't watch her die so he unlocked her chamber door in the middle of the night and told her to run. And she did. She gathered Greyson and the little one and left everything else behind."
He paused, taking a drink before setting the cup back down.
"They crossed the border on foot. No supplies, no escort. Just her carrying the toddler and Greyson at her side. They travelled for days like that. When we found them, she was barely standing. Greyson looked half-starved, his feet torn to ribbons, but he never once let go of his brother's hand."
Ann frowned slightly, You just… stumbled across them?"
"By chance," Bartholomew nodded. "I was with a scouting patrol at the time. We thought they were refugees at first, huddled under a fallen tree by the river. But I recognized her immediately. And I knew if word spread, the King's men would come for her."
"So you covered for her," Adam guessed.
"I claimed she and the children were part of my retinue," Bartholomew confirmed. "Servants under my protection. None of my men questioned me, though I saw suspicion in their eyes. Still, I couldn't leave them there."
He rubbed at his temple, the memory clearly weighing on him even now.
"That night," he continued, "we gave them food and blankets. Greyson didn't sleep. He sat by the fire with his brother in his lap, glaring at the flames like he wanted to burn the world down. I asked him if he hated his father. He told me without looking up that no real father would try to kill his children. He swore he'd never forgive him."
Ann's lips parted, but she said nothing.
"His mother tried to reason with him," Bartholomew went on, his voice quieter now. "She said the King was trapped by tradition, by rage, by a throne too heavy for anyone to carry. She begged Greyson not to let hatred rule him. But he wouldn't hear it. Even then, he'd already made up his mind. He carried that anger like armor, and I could see it settling into his bones."
Adam frowned, "You think that shaped him into what he is now?"
"I know it did," Bartholomew said simply. "That was the moment Greyson stopped being a child. And the moment I realized I'd taken on more than just a desperate woman and her sons."