The Shamer's Daughter - A Fanfiction

Chapter 7 - The Monster

The smell was almost as insufferable as it had been in The Dracon Court. He had vomited more than once in the hay that hadn't even been clean before he got there. Dina told the guards that it would need cleaning before she could spend the night in a cell like that, but they didn't listen until she used her Shamer Voice. She caught the eye of the guard nearest her.

"You can't treat another person like that," It was all she could come up with, but it was more than enough and the guard immediately went off to find a bucket of water. Dina felt almost certain that her mother would think it okay to use her powers in this situation, but she wasn't there anyway, so she figured she might as well exploit it this one time. Her voice wasn't nowhere near as powerful as her mother's, but her eyes usually did the rest of the work for her - as they did this time. Dina stepped up to the bars and looked into the darkness. Prince Nicodemus was lying on a stoney bump that was meant to be his bed. It was only knee high and not even close to rectangular as it was supposed to be. The bedding was only made up from padded dirt and hay, that seemed filthy, but he had managed to only throw up on the floor. The prince didn't even look up when the door was opened and two men started sweeping the dirty hay out into the hallway and yet there were another five men all awaiting with poised weapons.

"The rest you will have to do yourself." Said the guard who had just put the bucket in the cell and came back out at once. "I get nauseous even looking at that monster." He said and spit on the floor in the direction of Nicodemus.

"This way m'Lady.'' said the man beside him and held the door open for Dina and bowed ironically as if she was a fine lady. But although he was grinning an evil smile, he made sure not to look her in the eyes after seeing how his comrade had reacted to her gaze. The door was slammed closed as soon as she had entered. She took a few steps forward, but all she could see in the darkness was the prisoner's white cotton shirt, that had once been beautiful and intricately embroidered with blue and gold patterns. But now, it was torn in the right shoulder and it was more brown than white. He was lying on his side, facing the wall, so all Dina could see was his back, but as her eyes got used to the darkness, she started to notice his shoulder long dark hair that was partly tied in his neck and his tall leather boots, that was smudged in all kinds of substances. But she still couldn't see his face.

"My lord?" She attempted into the shadows. She heard the men laugh behind her - they hadn't found him worthy of titles for a while now. At first, he ignored her fully, but then it was like something clicked in his ear, when he noticed the voice. He slowly sat up and turned around and before him was a little girl, with wild dark hair trying to escape her braid and clean olive skin staring right at him. She was almost only a silhouette against the torches from the hall, so at first he couldn't see the green piercing eyes, that were examining him as curiously as he was her. 17 years old, Dina's mother had told her. At this moment, he looked both older and younger than that and nothing like she had imagined. The guards hadn't been easy on him. He looked both lost and hurt and completely miserable. As Dina looked at him, she didn't even think he deserved it, even if he had in fact murdered his own family. There was something in his eyes, that gleamed with such excruciating pain, that she wanted to cry just from standing in front of him. She took a deep breath to clear her thoughts and regretted it immediately. The stench was even worse now that he was facing her. But seeing as there was nothing she could do about it, she kept studying him. He was bruised on almost every part of his body. He had still bleeding wounds on his jaw and forehead and minor injuries all over the rest of his face. But even though he was clearly hurt, his own factures couldn't possibly be the source of the blood he was covered in. In the front, his shirt was neither white or brown - it was blood red. And so were his hands and forearms. He spoke before her as she had gotten lost in his wretched looks.

"A girl? Who are you? What are you doing here?" His voice was hardly more than a whisper, as if he hadn't used it for days.

"Dina Tonerre, my lord." For a reason she didn't understand herself, Dina stepped a bit closer. And then their eyes met.