The Fifth Daughter {Fantasy-Romance}

TWO

Deceptive like roses

·・✩₊˚.⋆☾ ⋆⁺₊✧・·

AS CONSCIOUSNESS SLOWLY SEEPED back into her senses, Maerwynn was met with the biting sting of pain radiating from the cut at the base of her neck. Groaning, she struggled to open her eyes, the dim light of the dungeon flickering before her like distant memories. Sweat ran down every corner of her face, sticking her long ruby hair to her neck in an uncomfortable manner.

Blinking away the haze, she surveyed her surroundings. The dungeon was devoid of windows, enveloped in darkness save for the flickering torch mounted on the stone wall. The air was thick with the musty scent of damp earth and decay, sending a shiver down her spine.

With each labored breath, Maerwynn felt the weight of her predicament press down upon her like a suffocating blanket. Alone in this desolate chamber, she couldn't help but wonder about Edina, her father, and home. Were they safe? Did they mourn her absence, or had they already moved on, resigned to the fate she had chosen?

Thoughts of Edina's tear-streaked face tugged at Maerwynn's heartstrings, filling her with a sense of longing. She had made that decision in a haste, in the last moment without even thinking but she didn't regret it. It was better her than Edina she kept trying to convince herself.

But she couldn't help but wonder what her her fate was now? She had condemned herself to an existence of perpetual suffering and torment until her dying breath. Yet, amidst the despair, she was glad she had caught that doe. It would help them to a few meals until the ships return to the harbour again. She prayed her father would seize the opportunity and secure their well-being.

Gingerly, her fingers brushed against the tender cut on her neck, eliciting a wince of pain. She needed to find herbs to soothe the wound before it worsened, potentially succumbing to infection. The physical sting of the injury paled in comparison to the ache in her heart, tears streaming down her cheeks unabated.

This dungeon was now her bleak abode. Here, she would exist—eating, breathing, and eventually succumbing to the embrace of death. And when her time came, her lifeless body would be discarded, making way for the next unfortunate daughter of Talerion to endure this wretched fate.

As Maerwynn resigned herself to the grim reality of her new existence, the dungeon's oppressive silence was shattered by the faint sound of footsteps echoing down the corridor.

Her heart skipped a beat as two figures materialized from the darkness, their forms swathed in shadows. With skin as dark as midnight and pointed ears reminiscent of mythical beings, they slipped through the locked gates as effortlessly as shadows dancing in the moonlight.

She watched in stunned silence as they approached her cell, their movements fluid and graceful. Despite her attempts to speak, her voice caught in her throat, suffocated by a mixture of fear and curiosity.

Without a word spoken, the two mysterious women set to work, their movements deft and purposeful. With gentle hands, they began to disrobe her, their touch surprisingly tender against her skin. Despite her initial apprehension, Maerwynn found herself surrendering to their ministrations like she was charmed of some sort to stay still. She allowed them to cleanse away the grime and filth that clung to her like a second skin.

She attempted to engage them in conversation still, but her words fell upon deaf ears. The women remained silent, their expressions inscrutable as they tended to her with efficiency. From head to toe, from the top of her hair to the sole of her feet.

With each passing moment, Maerwynn found herself drawn into their mysterious presence. As the last vestiges of dirt were washed away, leaving her feeling strangely vulnerable yet oddly refreshed, she couldn't help but wonder what would happen next.