A Tale From Lanoria: The Princess of Barough

Chapter 21: Twisted

The dungeons in Winter Haven were a cold and dark place. Pulling the cape about her tightly, Oriana's teeth chattered from the frigid temperatures. Curling up tightly, she sat in the dank, dusty cell for hours, unable to rest. She could barely see from the dull light of the oil lamps in the corridors outside of her cell. The cells were constructed of stone and metal. It didn't feel cobbled together poorly, but carefully. There was no rust, and it seemed well maintained, even for a dungeon. Oriana was glad she was not restrained, but she didn't need to be. She didn't have the means to break through the door anyway. Placing her fingers over the necklace gave her a flicker of comfort, as the future seemed bleak.

It would be several hours more before she heard someone coming from the top of the stairs. Their footsteps echoed down the long hall as they steadily made their way towards the bars of her cell. Appearing on the other side of the cell was Tyir. He was within a few feet of the bars. She could see that he had changed and looked a lot healthier than when she had last seen him. 

"I am sorry it has come to this, but I will be king of Barough, one way or another. This is not the way I wanted things to go. I really wanted to have a loving relationship with you."

"You infiltrated my city, Tyir! You set me up, and this wasn't how you wanted it to go?!" She growled, becoming very flustered when he started to laugh. "You killed my people, you bastard!"

"It was easy to set up. Your kingdom is weak, and your courtmage is inept. All I had to do was get him away from you. Anyone who died can be replaced easily once I become king. It's royalty that is hard to replace, Oriana," Tyir said quietly.

"You have no idea what it is like to be a ruler! You let it get into that giant egotistical head of yours, thinking you could play king! Just because your father said so!"

He grabbed the bars tightly and shouted, "You have no idea how hard it is! Not the spoiled brat of Barough!" He let out a sigh before continuing, trying to calm himself.

"I saw what they did to you, Tyir, but you deserve it," she growled.

The two glowered at one another as the tension in the dungeon grew heavy. Oriana had her arms crossed over her chest, and Tyir gripped the bars furiously. It was a moment before Tyir finally spoke again.

"Tell me, Oriana, all those letters you sent back to me. All that hope you gave me. Did you enjoy misleading me this whole time? Playing me for a fool?" He asked quietly.

"I never lied to you. Those were my real feelings for a while. I realized I only wanted to be your friend; being romantic would have never worked. You can't truly love me. I know what real love is, and you don't have an ounce of that," she said.

"And you think you do?" he questioned.

"Of course I do! From my mother and father, from Killian and Celsy. I saw how you behaved in Barough, and it made my skin crawl," she growled. "Your family is a bunch of cruel, disgusting people, and you're just like them. They'll gladly step on your back for their own amusement because you let them. Your brothers will continue to treat you like trash because they believe you are rubbish."

The subject of his brothers pushed him over the edge, and he suddenly exploded with pent-up rage. "You have no idea what it is like! You were born to inherit a kingdom! I was born to inherit nothing!" Tyir looked down, as if forcing himself to calm down, and lowered his voice before continuing.

"I spent most of my life thinking my heirs would either be killed because they could have the throne or dwindle down to nothing but a common noble. Then to think I have a chance at becoming a king." His eyes drifted back to Oriana's, so he could look her in the face. "Just to have it all taken away from me by a mage!"