Beginning of the End

A Princess In the Dungeons

Zianna POV

My blade slices through her soft skin, detaching her beautiful face from her body. Blood is everywhere, turning my hands red. I look at her face, the long strands of blonde curls, her eyes closed I peace. There are tears on her face, seemingly unmoving, and I know it has to be her. It has to be Arianna. The one I chose to save is now my victim, a victim of my poisoned and corrupted heart. I begin to cry, tears uncontrollably streaming down my cheeks and from my face to my hands, tainting her blood with the tears of evil. I feel the glares of my parents on my back like the rays of the sun. My eyes do not venture there though. It was their idea that will forever taint the goodness and beauty of Torah.

Deep down in my heart I know that leaving her body here will do a greater wrong upon my heart than the one placed there by killing her. So I decide to complete the ceremony. Holding her head up to the sky, I announce to the people of Torah,

"People of Torah," I stutter, not wanting to continue. "Is this who you wanted dead? A young woman who avoided our corrupted kingdom long ago in favour of her own? A woman who stood bravely by the sides of her people as they were slaughtered one by one by our men, who..."

"What do you say, shall we burn her, toss her corpse in with her people or should we treat her like any other beheaded prisoner, chop her up and make her food for the dragons?" My father yells, interrupting me. The crowd jeers in approval, their hands waving and punching the air.

A single tear streams down my face and onto the blood-stained stone. My heart is crushed at what I just heard, of what little decency the people of Torah possess when it comes to how to treat other human beings.

"You would never do that, not while I am around and alive to stop you!" I shout at my father, my frail body convulsing with sobs. Sobs of sorrow and grief, shivering at the thought of what I had done only minutes ago.

He says nothing. His cold, yet blinding red eyes just glare at me so I shout out to him once more in vain, "You will never get away with something like this! She is a queen and deserves better than this. Please... please listen to me." my voice trails off as my father walks towards me and Arianna's body and whispers in my ear,

"She was our prisoner, so we will treat her like a prisoner, whatever that entails; understood?" he growls, spit flying in my face, but I ignore both the spit and the question as if they were on in the same.

I feel a cold hand grab my hand so hard I smell my own blood and turn around to face my father, King Maninae. I try to avoid his piercing red eyes, but their power overcomes me as my face is drawn towards his so I can feel the heat emitting from his body. His horrid smelling figure is cloaked in darkness, his black-hooded robes, the colour of endless night cover leave only his feet uncovered. I silently laugh at the sight of his bare feet covered in the blood of my latest victim.

"I said do you understand Zianna?" he yells, his face too close to mine, and I nod in fear, shaking his grip off. My father just grabs me back, smirking as he does so, yanking me away from the body. All I see is his smirk as big as the city plastered on his face. Every single tooth is visible. I gag at the awful smell coming from his yellowing teeth, twisted in the anger and madness it has been recently accustomed to. My father's once golden locks of hair reaching his shoulders are now a dirty blonde rat's nest tangled in knots and entwined in his silver crown.

I am shoved I the back by a guard and my father peels my body off the bloodied stones, dragging me out of the courtyard. My long robes billow out behind me in the wind as I stumble in the king's grasp along a path I knew all too well. This is the very path on which I strode just a few mere hours ago. My father wants to take me back down to the dungeons. My heart pounds in my chest as I frantically gaze around at the grey stone walls. There are no windows, paintings or even the slightest hint of colour.

When we reach the familiar rows upon rows of wrought-iron barred cells, I shove off the guard who holds my arm and make a run for it. I want to reach the aerie where I could take refuge for a while. I have not gotten more than a few yards when a sharp pain shoots up my thigh and into my back. Collapsing and rolling onto my stomach, I pluck a phoenix- feathered arrow out from the back of my knee. Blood is seeping out from the fresh wound and onto the floor, leaving a large, dark puddle. My father must have ordered a guard to shoot me so I would stop running away. I keep thinking to myself as I reach back to my knee, feeling for the wound. I clench my teeth to hide a scream as my hand grazes the wound and I turn my head to assess the damage. There is blood everywhere, my hand is coated in it and the puncture wound runs quite deep. I can see the white colour of my cracked bone through my torn skin.

The guards run to my side and once again drag me on the stone floor. The continuous impacts send shots of searing pain throughout my whole body. I am thrown into a cell surrounded by metal bars. My head slams into a wall and my body crumples in a heap on impact as I am thrown in.

"I hope you rot prisoner. Your ignorant actions will not be easily forgiven or forgotten." says the guard who threw me in the cell.