He was missing his right eye, it had most likely been gouged out for punshiment, but he still had his left eye, just one eyeball left. She approached the cell stall again and peered into scarred fa...
The morning light filtered in through the clear glass window. The light played upon the little child's face as she awoke. She sat up in bed immediately as a maid entered her bedroom.
Seeing the child was awake, the maid fell to her knees, "Milady, Princess."
The child blinked a few times, rubbing her eyes as if it could rid the tiredness she was feeling at the moment, "Phoebe?"
The maid perked up, "Yes, Princess?"
"My dress please."
"Yes, of course, right away," replied the maid, bowing her head and clumsily standing up to make her way toward the large wardrobe.
Phoebe pulled out an elegant black dress from the wardrobe and walked over to the side of the bed. "This would fit well on thee, Princess."
She looked up at Phoebe. "If thou thinks so."
Phoebe made a face, "Quite anything looks well of thee my dear princess, now please hurry and change, thy father and thine guests are waiting."
The little girl remained unconvinced and began to whine. "But I do not wish to marry."
"Thou need not decide yet, princess, time will come soon."
Ophelia frowned, her stubborn personality taking over and keeping her from leaving the bed to change into the dress, but eventually she gave in and climbed out from under the covers.
The finishing touches were applied to her hair, as a lily as inserted right behind her left ear.
"Thou art so lovely," Phoebe chirped.
Ophelia frowned, "Thou may leave now."
Phoebe nodded and shuffled out of the room, obviously pleased with her work as she headed out the door and into the well lit hallways. Looking to her left and right, she took the path on her left, which led down the ornate stairs and eventually to the kitchen.
Ophelia groaned to herself, she felt disgusting and dirty, but what of that, she could do nothing more to stop the pain. Willing herself to keep moving, she left her bedroom and closed the large door behind her as she made her way toward the dungeon. Her shoes made loud, echoing sounds that resounded everytime she took a step down the stairs of cold flagstone. The grim, morbid feeling and sick stench of rotting flesh hit her like a wave. She made her way through the incredibly narrow pathway between the many cells used to hold prisoners and criminals. Ophelia always wondered to herself why she was never sickened by the sight of the prisoners. As the prisoner looked to her right, she spotted a man, his right hand, scouring the ground for food. She noticed the pan of measly food had been deliberately placed out of his reach. Approaching the cold bars of steel the held the man inside, she pushed the pan toward him. It made a screeching sound that caused her to wince, but she smiled when the man finally found what he was looking for.
"Thank thee," he whispered hoarsely, looking up in the direction the sound of the screeching pan had come from.
At the sight of his face, Ophelia took quite a few steps back. He was missing his right eye, it had most likely been gouged out for punshiment, but he still had his left eye, just one eyeball left. She approached the cell stall again and peered into scarred face and gasped. He was blind.
Ophelia stepped away from the cell stall and continued making her way down the narrow, and dark pathway. She continued looking to her left and right, watching the prisoners, disgusted by how they were treated and how mutilated they were. She passed the last stall and was about to turn back and head up the stairs again when she noticed another door. Utterly shocked at this new discovery, she made her way to the door and opened it.
There he was, chained to the walls, his wrists, bloody from all the attempts he had made to try and escape. He looked up at the approaching figure, taking in her beauty. She smelled faintly of lilies, giving him a feeling of peace. Her questioning eyes locked onto his. Ophelia was quite taken aback by the appearance of this boy, he looked a lot younger than all of the men that had been placed in the cells outside this room. But his eyes, they were different, they were soulless. He glared at her, and she inhaled sharply.
"I have never seen thee before," Ophelia commented.
He snorted, "Nor I, thee."
"For what reason are thou being held within this dark, dank place of misery."
He looked away, refusing to answer her question. "Thou art the Princess, art thou not?"
"What art thou doing here?" he muttered, facing her once again and giving her a serious look, "Art thou not soon to be wed?"
She was quite taken aback by this extensive bit of knowledge that he had gained from who knows where.
"H-How did thou know?"
"I know many things about thee," he whispered in a hushed voice.