His Queen

Raiders {part.3}

Bruises-Lewis Capaldi

~~~~~~~~~~

  "Question. How are you enjoying this so far?," I taunted.

  The ragged breathing of the raider was all that could be heard. He sat bloodied in his chair, junks of his hair missing and a few finger nails. A black bruise was starting to swell around his left eye and his bottom lip was split right open.

  "Oh I'm loving it, your highness," he spat out.

  "Glad to hear that," I said.

  Looking over at the tray beside me, I saw a short sharp blade, that looked like it could do some damage. I lifted it up and cut off it pinky finger. He let out a roar and looked at me in utter hatred.

  "You know this could be so much easier if you would just tell me what I need to know," I said exasperated.

  The raider kept silent, his head held low.

  "Hmm oh well then. Let's see what else we can, since I'm so nice I'll allow you to choose. Would you like to get the rest of your fingers cut off or would you prefer it if I pulled your teeth out?," I asked.

   "How about you go to hell," he yelled.

  "That wasn't an option," I said deadpanned. "Oh I have the perfect idea," I said in an excited tone.

  I turned towards the guard near the door and whispered in his ear. He nodded and left. Turning back towards the raider I almost pitied him. The cuts and gashes made it look like he was malled by a bear. Then I remembered the once beautiful homes of Diligitis burned to the ground, and suddenly my pity disappeared. The guard wheeled in a cart, the cart had a compartment the held hot coal, and in the coal held a branding iron. Seeing it brought me back to a time when I was younger, in this very room actually.

  Flashback....

  "Ziya wake up, now," a powerful voice commanded.

  It was like I was looking at myself through a reflection, except I was way younger and my room was pink. Little Ziya was comfortably swaddled in her hot pink duvet. I couldn't be anymore than seven maybe eight years old. Her father or my father I guess, was standing over her sleeping frame and shook her shoulders. I remember the moment when I opened my eyes, how scared I was.

  "Ziya wake up now," my father whispered.

  Little Ziya woke up and her eyes widened in shock, mostly fear though.

  "Come on let's go," he said.

   He didn't even wait for me to get dressed he just left. All little Ziya could do was put on her slippers and follow idly behind. I followed the two of them towards the east wing and walked the long hallway, through the maze, and down the spiral case. We were in the dungeons, all three of us.

   "Sir, what is this place? I'm scared," little Ziya said.

  I remember the King absolutely hated when I called him Dad or Daddy any term of endearment really. He engraved it into my mind that I should only refer to him as "sir" or "Father".

  "You'll learn soon enough little one," he said snidely.

  Little Ziya followed him through the dungeons, we heard the countless cries and moans of the prisoners. Hands reached out to grab me, I mean her and she struggled to keep up with her father. They reached a door at the end of the dungeon and I followed them through. There in the middle of the room was a young man, most likely in his mid twenties. He had platinum blonde hair and light brown eyes. His hair flopped over his eyes, but he was too beat up to care.