|
|
Post by Celvi Gray on Aug 13, 2011 16:04:03 GMT -7
She had done the right thing. The right thing. The only thing there had been to do. The right thing…
This Celvi told herself over and over again while she huddled in the corner of the stinking damp cell, long since having given up on trying to keep her dress and her green velvet cloak stainless. But it was hard to believe in the right thing when you were cold, hurt and frankly fearing for your life. She had not expected it to be like this. Yes, she knew the Mar’volians were scum without honor, a spineless lot and a brutal race, but she had never imagined to be treated like the lowest of criminals, not when posing as the future queen of Lamora. That they would throw Princess Christabel into a cell like this, with only rotten straw and rats as companions – it was an outrage!
Or was there a much simpler reason for it all? Had she been found out? Did they know she was nothing but an impostor, had traded her life for her princess so she could escape? If that was the case she might as well be dead…
The thought made Celvi’s already shivering body shake even more. No, she didn’t want to die. There might be honor in such a death, sacrificing herself for her ruling family and country, but frankly, she did not want to go down at all, honor or not. Sadly, there was not much she could do about it right now, except wait. Wait for someone to show up. If they still thought she was Princess Christabel, they would not forget her down here, they would need her as leverage.
Celvi guessed she was in Mar’vol’s castle now, though the majority of her way here she had been blindfolded, and also restrained as she had tried to escape twice. This had actually been the original plan. Buy time until Bell, the ‘messenger’, was safely behind the walls of the castle, and then try to make a run for it, escape on her fiery horse Artano. But she had underestimated the vigilance of this lord and his mercenaries. The first time they had been angry, the second time the flashing blade of a knife had told enough tales without needing threatening words. After that, Celvi had resigned to her fate, hoping for a swift reaction from her fellow Lamorans.
But in the darkness and dampness of the cell it was easy to believe that they would think her life a sacrifice easily made. That they would mention her name as the lady who had saved her princess, but sadly had been lost to the Mar’volians in the process.
No, No! that couldn’t be! An exchange still could be made! This had been the reason behind this abduction all along after all: an exchange of prisoners. It would come to that! Surely the queen was already preparing negotiations and would send Chase as her messenger. Chase… thoughts of him at least proved a reasonable consolation and distraction from her current state. She tried to remember details of his face, his smile, things he had said and even produced the memory of their almost-kiss from a far, shameful corner of her mind. Anything to keep herself sane.
After a measureless amount of time had passed, suddenly she heard steps echoing through the corridor outside her cell, and just a moment later she heard the rattling of keys in the lock.
Stiffly but hastily Celvi rose to her feet, wanting to await her visitor standing upright with the most dignity she could muster concerning the circumstances. Who would it be? And what fate would he bring? |
|
|
|
Post by cirino on Aug 15, 2011 9:50:21 GMT -7
A torch had been lit on the stone wall beside the cell providing the dark prisons with a warm but still dim light. King Cirino waited behind a guard before the cell door was pushed open with a groan. The guard stepped into the cell first and waled over to Celvi, he studied her before moving behind her and stopped, standing in his guard position, his hand on the hilt of his sword. Cirino entered the cell a rag to his nose, the smell from the other prisoners let alone Celvi's cell was just enough for the king's nose. He sniffed before removing the rag as he took slow steps towards her. Reaching out a hand he placed his fingers under her chin motioning for the second guard that stood outside of the cells to enter with another torch. The guard hurried in and came to stand beside the king.
Cirino tilted her head upwards gently as the guard came closer with the torch. His green eyes grew cold and narrowed when he realized she had black hair, she had the skin tone of a Lamorian, but the hair would be her downfall. Cirino took in a long inhale before lowering his hand from the dark haired woman's face. Only to have it return as he hit her swiftly across the face, the impact echoed slightly throughout the stone walls of the dungeons. Keeping himself calm Cirino spoke in a lowered tone, his eyes fixed upon the pale woman "you are not the princess of Lamora... who are you?" he asked, his eyes hard, and piercing. Cirino was burning with anger inside, but tried his best to keep it under control. |
|
|
|
Post by Celvi Gray on Aug 15, 2011 11:12:27 GMT -7
Her eyes narrowed at the sudden torch light coming from the outside, and she slightly shrank back when a burly guard approached her, giving her a quick size-up and then placed himself behind her as if he wanted to make sure she would not attempt any silly try to escape. As if! Being restrained like she was that was a ridiculous idea!
Then came a man in fine attire, holding a rag to his nose as if the smell down here was an insult to his fine senses. Celvi’s own nose had reacted the same when she first had been dumped her, but for a while now she had simply become immune to the smell. So this man had to be at least a noble of some importance. Whoever he was, he seemed to have business with her and she had a feeling she would soon find out more about him.
And ice cold fist seemed to collide with her stomach as he moved forward to touch her chin, lifting it and examining her. There was something in his eyes she did not like, a spark of sudden understanding. Oh yes, she was sure of it, he knew more than the man who had kidnapped her, he knew what Princess Christabel ought to look like. This realisation however did not in the least prepare her from what was to come next.
The slap hit her hard and caused her to stumble backwards against the waiting guard, her eyes widening in shock and fear. Never before had anyone ever raised a hand against her, and surely no man. The impact and pain brought burning tears to her eyes, but she blinked them away hastily, trying to regain her composure, though hard it was.
"you are not the princess of Lamora... who are you?"
As her hands were tied behind her back, Celvi could not even raise them to her burning cheek where she was sure a red mark was beginning to show. Instead, she tried to stand tall, and lifted her chin, acting on all the lessons of noble countenance that had been hammered into her by her never-relenting aunt Dagmara. Who would have thought she might need them for such circumstances once?
“My name is Lady Celvi Gray”, she answered defiantly, her voice adopting a tone of pride and almost gloating, though her confidence was razorblade thin and wavering. “I was riding with my princess as your goons tried to seize her. Dumb as they were they mixed us up and I took the chance to save her. She’s now safe behind the walls of Lamora’s castle!”
|
|
