Categories > Movies > Pirates of the Caribbean > Loreley
“Stay here,” the tall man said to me, thrusting me into an abnormal room on board the Endeavour. I looked around the room. The furniture was expensive, that I could tell. I had had my dagger taken away from me. What could I do? I was taken from my home, Isla Donoussa, and here I was. A Donoussan with honour would never allow themselves to be taken; it was a matter of pride. They would rather die than become a man’s prisoner. Our island was unlike the world, where men were in charge of everything and everyone. The man had locked the door on me, and so I was stuck. I suppose I had to bide my time.
I sat down on the floor, and tried to contact any other Donoussans who may be alive.
Princess! Is that you?, the panic-stricken voice of Priestess Nalahia sounded in my head.
Nalahia, it’s me...Loreley... I’ve been taken captive. Where are you?
Oh Princess, it’s terrible. Your sister, Her Majesty and her Consort are dead. There is only the Priestesshood left and those who came to the Sanctuary... her voice was cut off by a scream and I knew that meant she was dead. Nalahia, the priestess who had raised me as her own when Her Majesty had no time for a third daughter, had just been killed. Tears ran down my cheeks. What was I meant to do now? Stay as a captive?
When you are someone’s prisoner, you lose all sense of time, and that I did. I was numb with the death of Ida, of my parents, of my people. There was only Aleera left, and when she decided to marry Mr. Blackmore, she lost her power to contact people mentally. The Goddess does that to people.
“Oh Amira!” I whispered, “Please protect me with what is to come.” There was no answer to my prayer, but another man, with a scar across one side of his face, and with an accent I could not place, unlocked the door. I stood up and I examined him. He wore black, and he looked so intimidating, I took a step back into the corner, like a trapped rabbit.
“Lord Beckett would like to see you,” he said. Who was this Lord Beckett? No man had such a title on Donoussa. He had a menacing-looking knife in his hand and I decided not to question. Still wearing my tunic, in which I felt so vulnerable in, and my sandals, he pulled me through the ship and I was pushed into a large spacious cabin.
A small, but admittedly fairly good-looking man, wearing some kind of white wig and brown clothing of a good quality was looking out of the window.
“Thank you Mr. Mercer,” he said in a cold, emotionless voice. He must have been talking to the man with the menacing looking knife; the man had slipped out of the room.
“Your people are dead, Princess. You are no longer on Donoussa; you are in the real world now, and you must conform.”
“Never,” I growled. He turned around to face me and I got a jolt of shock running through me. He reminded me so much of Heath Blackmore, Aleera’s husband. Maybe it was him...with just a new name....
This man smirked and walked over to me.
“You are a pretty thing, someone like you will fetch a high price in Port Royal.”
“H-h-h-high price?” I asked, stammering. Did he mean slavery? Was I to be a slave? The man examined me with his cold blue eyes and smirked.
“Yes, Loreley. You shall fetch a high price...as a slave.”
“Why a slave?”
“Do you know how much a Donoussan costs?”
“My people have been your slaves?”
“Yes, they have. They are those whom we call servants, but are in fact slaves.”
It seemed this man, Lord Cutler Beckett, had had enough of me. I was thrown into a cabin and locked in there. I was given food and water, but it just did not feel right. I was going to be sold to a man. It did not make sense to me, but maybe it would be okay...would it be okay?
I sat down on the floor, and tried to contact any other Donoussans who may be alive.
Princess! Is that you?, the panic-stricken voice of Priestess Nalahia sounded in my head.
Nalahia, it’s me...Loreley... I’ve been taken captive. Where are you?
Oh Princess, it’s terrible. Your sister, Her Majesty and her Consort are dead. There is only the Priestesshood left and those who came to the Sanctuary... her voice was cut off by a scream and I knew that meant she was dead. Nalahia, the priestess who had raised me as her own when Her Majesty had no time for a third daughter, had just been killed. Tears ran down my cheeks. What was I meant to do now? Stay as a captive?
When you are someone’s prisoner, you lose all sense of time, and that I did. I was numb with the death of Ida, of my parents, of my people. There was only Aleera left, and when she decided to marry Mr. Blackmore, she lost her power to contact people mentally. The Goddess does that to people.
“Oh Amira!” I whispered, “Please protect me with what is to come.” There was no answer to my prayer, but another man, with a scar across one side of his face, and with an accent I could not place, unlocked the door. I stood up and I examined him. He wore black, and he looked so intimidating, I took a step back into the corner, like a trapped rabbit.
“Lord Beckett would like to see you,” he said. Who was this Lord Beckett? No man had such a title on Donoussa. He had a menacing-looking knife in his hand and I decided not to question. Still wearing my tunic, in which I felt so vulnerable in, and my sandals, he pulled me through the ship and I was pushed into a large spacious cabin.
A small, but admittedly fairly good-looking man, wearing some kind of white wig and brown clothing of a good quality was looking out of the window.
“Thank you Mr. Mercer,” he said in a cold, emotionless voice. He must have been talking to the man with the menacing looking knife; the man had slipped out of the room.
“Your people are dead, Princess. You are no longer on Donoussa; you are in the real world now, and you must conform.”
“Never,” I growled. He turned around to face me and I got a jolt of shock running through me. He reminded me so much of Heath Blackmore, Aleera’s husband. Maybe it was him...with just a new name....
This man smirked and walked over to me.
“You are a pretty thing, someone like you will fetch a high price in Port Royal.”
“H-h-h-high price?” I asked, stammering. Did he mean slavery? Was I to be a slave? The man examined me with his cold blue eyes and smirked.
“Yes, Loreley. You shall fetch a high price...as a slave.”
“Why a slave?”
“Do you know how much a Donoussan costs?”
“My people have been your slaves?”
“Yes, they have. They are those whom we call servants, but are in fact slaves.”
It seemed this man, Lord Cutler Beckett, had had enough of me. I was thrown into a cabin and locked in there. I was given food and water, but it just did not feel right. I was going to be sold to a man. It did not make sense to me, but maybe it would be okay...would it be okay?
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