Chapter 361: Distorted Truths

When it was all over, Riven stayed still, lifeless."It's a pity we could not go all the way... Maybe some other day."

The mocking laughter rang in his ears.

They kept talking about him, as if what happened was not enough, he had to live it again... They talked about his ears... They talked about his body... They talked about his face...

Riven sat up slowly, his breath shallow, he felt pain all over his body, though which pain was caused by what was still unknown. Was it because he was dragged and physically abused, or was it because they...

When his fingers touched the iron cuffs on his wrists, something in him cracked.

He drew his knees to his chest, resting his forehead against them. Tears streamed down his face. He wanted to hide. He wanted to leave. He wanted to... End it all.

Riven's chest tightened. His breath hitched. He dug his nails into his arms, desperate to hold on to something, anything. He needed a new pain to distract him. His shoulders shook as the sobs broke through the silence, ragged and raw. And for once, he was relieved that his cries were being ignored.

The sound of heavy footsteps echoed down the cold, damp corridor, cutting through Riven's quiet, uneven breaths. He had been sitting against the wall for what felt like hours, tears drying in uneven streaks down his face.

The iron door at the end of the hallway groaned open, and the Dowager Queen entered. She was dressed in heavy, dark velvet, her golden crown glinting faintly in the dim light. Her presence alone shifted the air. Guards flanked her.

Her eyes, normally sharp with restrained cunning, were blazing with fury now. When she saw Riven huddled on the floor, something inside her snapped.

"So this is where you've been," she said, her voice sharp as a blade.

Riven slowly lifted his head. His black hair was dishevelled, his wolf ears drooping low, green eyes red and swollen from crying. He didn't speak. He didn't even flinch. His silence only made her angrier.

She stepped closer, her heels clicking against the stone floor. "Tell me," she hissed, "are you pleased with yourself?" Her words dripped with venom. "Are you happy with what you've done? With what you've brought upon this kingdom?"

Riven stared at the ground.

"And now… Now look what has happened." Her voice cracked slightly, emotion slipping through the fury. "Theresa's child… A royal heir… Murdered because of the chaos that follows you."

Riven's breath caught at the mention of Theresa, but he said nothing. His hands tightened into fists on his knees, nails digging deeper into his skin.

The Dowager Queen stopped, waiting. Waiting for denial. For tears. For rage. Anything.

But she got nothing.

He just sat there, quiet and still, like someone who had already accepted every accusation thrown at him—true or not. It made her chest tighten against her will. She knew—deep down—that her accusations had no foundation. That Riven hadn't killed anyone. That he wasn't some schemer plotting the fall of the throne. But rage and grief needed a target, and he was the easiest one to strike.

Her voice lowered, heavy with disgust. "You should never have been allowed near him. You brought nothing but weakness to this court. You have brought shame to him, distracted him, and endangered him. If you have even a shred of dignity left… Leave. Leave this kingdom and never return."

For a long moment, the dungeon was silent except for the faint drip of water in the corner. Then, Riven slowly lifted his head. His eyes were bloodshot, but his voice was steady when he finally spoke.

"…Can I see Theresa first?"

The Dowager Queen blinked. She had expected begging for forgiveness, or desperate pleas to see her son. But not this. Not Theresa.

"You want to see… Her?" she asked, genuinely taken aback.

"Please..."

The Dowager Queen stared at him, trying to make sense of this boy—this wolf—who had turned her son's world upside down. He didn't ask about the King's feelings. He didn't argue for his innocence. He simply accepted the order to leave and asked to see the woman who married the one he loves.

She turned away, her cape swishing behind her. "...Very well," she said curtly. "I will see what can be arranged. But you will leave when this is done. If you care about him at all… You will disappear."

Riven lowered his head. "I understand," he whispered.

---

Theresa waited, she knew from the people she planted that the King was looking around for Riven like a madman and the Dowager Queen... She played her part well. Even before she brought the news, Theresa knew that Riven had asked for her. And that touched her heart.

He wanted to see her. He was so worried about her, there was some satisfaction in knowing all her plans succeeded so well.

She would meet him alright, and bring this all to an end.

When Riven saw Theresa step through the shadows, a flicker of something, relief, maybe, passed through his green eyes. But it was faint, fragile, buried under layers of pain.

His voice came out rough and hoarse, like he hadn't spoken in days. "How… are you?" His gaze dropped briefly to her abdomen, then faltered. He couldn't bring himself to say it, the weight of that unspoken word pressing heavily on his chest. "…I heard about…"

Theresa shook her head before he could finish. Her eyes shimmered in the lantern light, her expression carefully crafted into gentle sorrow. "Riven, don't." She stepped closer. "Don't blame yourself. It isn't your fault."

The simple kindness in those words shattered something in him. Tears, hot and silent, began rolling down his cheeks.

Theresa's gaze hardened briefly—not at him, but at the guards posted outside the cell. "Get out," she snapped, her voice suddenly sharp, queenly. "All of you. Leave us."

The guards exchanged uneasy glances but quickly bowed and left, their boots clanging up the stairs until their footsteps faded. Now, there was only the sound of dripping water and Riven's quiet sniffles between them.

Theresa approached the bars slowly, her hands wrapping around the cold iron. Her brown eyes softened, though beneath that softness lay calculation. "Riven," she began, her voice dropping into a whisper meant for secrets, "the Dowager Queen and the King… They're not good people."

Riven's ears twitched, confusion knitting his brow. "…What?"

"They know what's happening," Theresa said, her voice trembling with the perfect balance of sorrow and urgency. "He knows you're here. He knows what's being said about you. And still, he doesn't come. He doesn't defend you. He doesn't… Care." She bit her lip, looking down as if the truth itself hurt her. "He thinks you betrayed him."

The words hit him like a physical blow.

Riven's eyes widened. "I—what?" His voice cracked, desperate. "No… I didn't…"

"I think the Dowager Queen is framing you," Theresa continued, stepping closer, lowering her voice like they were conspiring. "I'm not sure exactly how, but I can feel it. She's angry with me because I lost the child, and she blames you. She's telling him things… Horrible things. And he believes her. He's on her side."