Otherside

Chapter 3: Hazy Days

    George woke with a start in the middle of the night to a shrill scream. "What the fuck?" He thought as he leaped out of bed and his feet hit the cold hardwood. He opened his door and saw absolute chaos ensuing in front of him. People running for their lives are being chased by a hoard of people with intricate swords and axes. George's heart dropped, and his blood ran cold. "Shit. Shit. Shit." He whipped around to put on shoes and grab any belongings he could before finding the nearest emergency boat. He always thought that pirates were a myth, or at most an exaggeration of a fairytale. But they were here now, looting his ship and slaughtering anyone who tried to oppose them.
   
    George's mind was racing, and his hands shook as he grabbed what he could and tried to be quiet so they wouldn't hear him, but he kept calm, this was not the time to be irrational. He could hear the cries to stop being cut short by the sinister thieves. "That's what you get for serving that bastard of a king!" a distant voice called out amongst the noise. Dammit, he was in more trouble than he thought. He dashed out of the door and saw the pirates taking anything that wasn't glued down, and George suspected they would burn the ship later. The crew was fighting, but it was no use, and their numbers were dwindling quickly. Their screams were ringing in his ears, deafening George, and the smell of death stung his nose.
   
    George couldn't take any more of the blood bath he was witnessing and quickly made his way to the deck rail where an escape boat was waiting for him with a few other people waving for him to jump. George swiftly climbed over the deck rail and stood to jump, but just before he made it over the edge, he felt a hand grab the back of his shirt. "Not so fast, pretty boy." The voice said as it yanked him hard and slammed him backward back onto the ship. His head hit the floor with a loud SMACK, and the world began to blur around him. He could vaguely make out the shape of a man standing above him wielding a sizable ax. "Well, well, well," He chuckled to himself. "Look who we have here." Then George blacked out.

    He was conscious, that's all he knew. George couldn't see anything and couldn't move. No, really, he tried to move his arms and found them to be handcuffed together, and he felt the fabric of a blindfold around his eyes and the weight of a potato sack over his head. The floor was damp against his wrinkled clothes, and the mildew smell was so strong he could choke. George felt cold metal around his ankles and found himself chained to some sort of pole when he attempted to move his tired limbs. "shit.", George thought groggily. "where am I?". It was then he heard the faint sound of voices, and he held his breath.
   
    "What are we gonna do with him, Captain?" He heard a woman's voice with a strange accent question. George peaked his ears up. "Anything we want, I suppose." Uh oh, George recognized that mocking tone. The man from earlier was the captain? How did he manage to get this unlucky? George's mind was flooded with memories from last night that made his stomach churn with rage. Visions of flashing iron weapons and blood-soaked clothes flooded his mind. George squirmed at the reminder. Why does everything have to go wrong for him, can he not catch one fucking break? He thought spitefully. "Well they probably think he's dead, everyone else on that ship is, and the ones who got out will assume we killed him out of spite." The woman spoke again, then another thing dawned on George like a cold bucket of water hitting his skin.
   
    Sapnap, Karl, the whole kingdom, George's heart dropped to his stomach as he remembered his sweet sister. In a few days, they will think he's dead, never to be seen again. George didn't want to imagine the look on his sister's face when she heard the news that her brother was killed by a pack of raging pirates, but her horrified expression was burned in his mind. He had to get back to her, he couldn't let her suffer like that.
   
    "Eh, not like they wanted him anyway. I found the maps they were using. Sending him off to marry some princess, no way he was vital to the royal family, probably just politics. The man chuckled, "I doubt they'll miss him. He'll be good for the valuables he came with, and maybe even more if we can get some family secrets." George could practically see the cocky smile the man had though his blindfold and body shoulders shook with anger. "How dare some low-life such as yourself imply that I am unimportant. I am royalty, worth more money than you could comprehend. You're nothing but a sadistic thief with a dinky ship." George spat, and though his "prince voice" made him cringe, he wanted to make this man feel as foolish as he had. "So say that to my fucking face, I don't do well with cowards."
   
     George was aware of the immense danger he was in, and he felt the air in the room take a dramatic shift. Frankly, he didn't care. If he was so worthless and weak, it shouldn't matter to the man what he thought. Heavy footsteps thudded towards him, and the floorboards creaked as the man leaned to get down to his level. "Come again?" The man questioned with a flat tone; that could have been mistaken for calmness, but George recognized the venom the words carried all too well. His instinct screamed at him to back off, but George ignored them, blinded by fury. "I said," he repeated simply, "say it to my fucking face."
   
    The man laughed. He laughed. "Sorry, I can't take you seriously shaking like a wet chihuahua and chained up with a bag on your head." George was a little thankful for the sack over his head, so the man couldn't see his face turn red. It was a little humbling, he had no effect on this man, and he sat helplessly and shivering with no escape in sight. "Oh, come on Dream, no need to mock him, he's clearly at his lowest anyway. Let him be." As backhanded as this was, George was thankful for her strange way of standing up for him.
   
    "Whatever, let's go check on the dinner, I'm hungry, and I'd rather not be in here with royalty scum." The man, or "Dream" responded spitefully. George heard the man stand up and walk following the woman out of the room. He could feel Dream's eyes pierce him through the sack, but he didn't care. "Let him stare," He thought. "If anything, he should feel guilty about this; how could another human being not feel anything seeing a human shackled and desperate in the corner of a rotting room. George heard the door shut and the click of a lock. Maybe not. The silence was deafening in the small cell, and George was left alone with his racing thoughts. But still, try as he might. He did not cry.
   
    Sure, he was devastated. He had lost everything he had in a single day, and his chances of escape are slim. He imagined in a few days everyone would hear the news of his death, they would have a funeral soon. Who would go? And who would cry for him? He pondered all of this helplessly in his corner, which wasn't getting any more comfortable, but he was getting tired of being awake. George slipped into uneasy dreams of his old castle and Niki, never sleeping for more than half an hour at a time. These dreams of the past filled made it all the worse, so George was almost relieved to be woken up to the click of his door, and footsteps coming towards him once more.
   
     After a moment of silence, George spoke up. "If you came to look at the new prisoner, you can at least take the handcuffs off and get the bag off my head." "Don't be too fond of yourself, I'm getting you food, so you don't die." Dream said sarcastically; as he closed the door. "Oh, how kind of you," George replied in a flat voice. "Don't you have goons to do things like this, I figured I was too worthless to have the captain himself feed me?"George took in a deep breath of what smelled like a warm broth with bread. And right about now, it sounded better than anything else. Dream paused and let out a huff of air. "Do you want food or not?" He asked, annoyed. "No, I don't," George replied simply. He was hungry, but this wasn't a matter of food to George; he would not let himself succumb to weakness and have to eat the food of these twisted people. "Fine, suit yourself." Dream said as he left the room, locking the door once more.