Shitposters Fanfiction🤑

Chapter 3: Prisoner

The dungeons. A murky, dusty place with the smell of mold and misery. Twist had been in there for a night, and it was dreadful. A perfect place to lock up criminals.

The raccoon audibly sighed as he scrubbed the dirty floors with the broom. The bristles scraped against the filth that's been collecting over many, many years. He knew that trying to clean these floors was as effective as trying to mop up the rain. And it was as boring as watching paint dry. But it's not like he could stop, King Shelbington was watching him work, intently. Any chance of escape was utterly useless under her piercing gaze as she stood infront of the staircase. The continues tapping of the cane echoed throughout the jail cells and halls. Though the taps were loud, it was still so eerily silent.

Twist glanced through the iron bars and into the rooms as he cleaned the floors. He furrowed his brows. The shadows shrouded whoever there might've been in there. He took a look at another cell, instead of shadows and spider webs, two small bloodshot eyes met his. In an instant he gazed away and stared at the ground. His fur stood on end and an icy cold shiver ran down his spine. "Jesus Christ..." he muttered under his breath. Weren't jails supposed to teach criminals a lesson? If anything, this place was probably driving them into insanity. Or was that the lesson?

He shook his head slightly and continued down the dungeons corridores. The stench grew stronger the further he walked, and the sound of the King's cane against stone deadened. His nose scrunched and he coughed quietly. His grip around the broom tightened and his tail curled together closer to his body.

A noise that came from the cell next to him made him jump. His heart beat out of his chest and he hissed. He turned his gaze towards the origin of the sound and squinted into the shadows, he could barely make out a blurry figure huddled in the corner. Foolishly, he had stepped foward to take a closer look at the prisoner.

"What the..." he breathed out. He wanted to call out to whoever it was, just to see what type of reaction they would have. But shook away rhe urge and just observed the prisoner. They didn't move at all. He honestly would've thought they were dead if it weren't for their heavy, ragged breaths his ears picked up. His expression subconsciously twisted into a look of disgust and he huffed quietly. He glanced away, but not even a second later a paw had shot through the bars and grasped around his wrist, yanking him closer. The broom fell onto the stone flooring with a sharp thud. He yelped as his head was pressed against the iron and his arm was pulled through. The figure slowly came out of the shadows and wrapped their other paw around his snout, keeping him shut.

He growled and attempted to pull his arm away. But his struggles and hisses were futile. The prisoners grip tightened, claws digging into his bristled fur and skin. The prisoner, a red squirrel, stared right at him. Her blue eyes sunken and bloodshot, her front teeth were bared at him, ready to bite right into his flesh. Her fur, once supposedly, clean was scruffy and knotted with dirt and blood. Red, angry patches of skin was exposed to the dusty air, no doubt making it worse. To put it short, she was in a disheveled state.

She moved her face fowards, her hot, putrid breath hitting his face. He scrunched his snout, but was unable to move his face away.

"Its been a long time since..." she growled into his ear. Her eyes darted towards where Twist had come from before trailing back to his face, "someone else other than her has come here."

Her grip around his snout loosened, allowing him the freedom to speak. He pulled his face out of her hand. If it weren't for his unquenchable curiosity, he'd be going back to the King and lied about cleaning up the entire floor of the dungeons. "Who the hell are you?"

Her claws dug deeper into his skin, drawing blood. Twist bit his tounge and hissed. His fingers curled into a fist, his fingers digging into his paw pad. "I'd have your head on the floor if I wasn't behind these bars," she growled and scoffed, "I'm the second heir to the throne."

His brows furrowed in confusion before it clicked together. His eyes widened. "You're Bonne?" He got more confused. King Shelbington's younger sister? The princess that supposedly ran away to never be found again? Why was she in the dungeons?

"Yes," she replied firmly, "now get me out of here, will you? I will give you all the riches you desire, raccoon."

His ears perked up. Riches. His began mind flashed with images of wealth, gold and treasure. He could not not accept that offer. Bonne's mouth twitched up into a smirk. Twist's mouth opened, but before he could formulate a sentence, the iron bars rattled as something hit it with a mass amount of power. That something being a very specific cane. Twist jumped and so did Bonne. Her eyes darted to the familiar item and in an instant she let go of the raccoon-but not without leaving scars. He bit his tounge and hissed through his teeth. His other hand wrapped around his scarred arm.

A paw yanked him back by the hood of his cloak. He spun his head around, just to meet the King's eyes. She glanced at the scars on his arm, then at Bonne-who was back to being a curled up ball in the corner. She scoffed, and without a word, dragged him back and up the dungeons stairs. He kept his eyes on the back of the King's head, his thoughts in a whirlwind. He had questions that he wanted answers to, which may or may not cost his head.

A few minutes later and he found himself in a very spacious bathroom. King Shelbington stood infront of him with a disappointed and frustrated expression. In her paw she held bandages and a wet cloth. "You're are very foolish for even speaking with that prisoner," she said coldly. He internally winced at her tone, but that didn't stop the questions from slipping off his tounge.

"Why is she locked up in there?"

The king didn't reply and instead took his arm to wipe away the blood that had caked up in his fur. He winced quietly, watching as the white fabric quickly turned crimson red. She threw away the cloth and unwrapped the bandage. In a swift moment she wrapped it around the scars. Gentle wasn't the word to describe how she handled him. After a few more wraps around his arm, she used her claws to rip itand put the leftover bandages on the sink. Then she sighed and mumbled something to herself, something that Twist could barely make out.

"Shouldn't have let him clean the dungeons, knew she was going to pull something..."

Then she glared down at him. "Can't have you letting everyone know she's still alive," she hissed and raised her cane and pressed it against his throat. "You are going to keep shut."