Turning Tail [Reader x Doldia Girls]

Final Part - 03 | Lost Property

Heat swarmed Pursena's throat. She couldn't make out why a dungeon, of all places, was so awfully humid. And it stunk. It reeked of rotting body odor and sweat that hadn't been washed off of grimy flesh in weeks. The stone tiles at her feet were gritty, though there never seemed to be a speck of dirt present; Pursena struggled to walk around at first without her bare feet feeling sore. She stopped walking altogether. The bed was dirty, smelled like a myriad of unmentionable things, but it was soft enough to hold her weight for hours at a time.

She would curl up there on the dusty bedspread and wordlessly gaze at the wall. Linia, on the other hand, was much rowdier than her sister. The feline girl would spend hours beating her knuckles into the cell bars until they bled. She would skim the room for anything hidden, like it was something out of a prison fairytale — trap doors buried beneath slabs of wood, inconspicuous passageways carved out of one of the walls, makeshift weapons lying around in wait to be used against an unsuspecting guard.

Even now, she had gone back to punching the prison bars, bare fists clashing on steel. Pursena glanced at her sister, her expression downtrodden and far too depressed to say anything. A few days ago she would've had the energy to yell, but it's been weeks. Weeks of rotting away in a cell, listening to the moans and whimpers of other prisoners brought here to be slaves. It was common for women to get dragged out by the guards. Few had the energy to kick and scream for their lives. Fighting back was a waste of time.

The women who were more frequently taken out of their cells were the ones whose arms were tagged in mythic runes. Black tattoos ringing their wrists or ankles where their white rags could not veil them. They were classified as the breeding slaves — the ones Augustus pulled at his own convenience to fornicate with, to impregnate. They would bear his children in due time and the orphans would be sold to slave traders. After that, there was no telling what became of them.

Pursena found that out the first time she witnessed one of the tattooed women get escorted upstairs to Augustus' chambers. She disappeared for an hour, and the dungeon was silent for a time, then she was returned to her cell with her head hanging on her shoulders. Her hair was sticking out like a startled porcupine, her rags were messy and ruffled, especially where her cleavage hung. Pursena had taken a good whiff of the stench coming from the woman — sweat, musk, something like the faint burn of bleach and bodily fluid. It was repulsive, so much so that Pursena turned up her nose and buried her face in her knees till morning.

. . .

The door came open. Linia stopped pounding her hands into the cell bars, backpedaling as another guard sauntered in. "Shit."

Pursena lifted her head. The sisters exchanged a glance, then gazed through the bars, waiting to see which path the masked man would take. They'd never received a visitor, not from another slave or a guard or Augustus, thankfully. It was almost like they didn't exist. From the day they were tossed into a cell, nobody said a word to them, approached them, batted an eye in their direction.

The guard approached the door, pulling a silver key from his hip and making entry. Neither Pursena nor Linia said anything, they didn't know what to say — this never happened.

"This way, mutt," he said, a gruff voice. "It's your turn."

My turn? Pursena thought. She looked at the man like she was seeing ghosts. Her face went pale and her ears flattened on her head. The guard idly stepped to the side, leaving the gate open for her to walk through, but she had no intent on going anywhere.

"You gonna sit there and gawk at me all day?" The guard trudged over to the bed and took hold of Pursena's wrist, forcing a pained yelp out of her. "Let's go — don't make me tell you again."