The days have blurred together, an endless stretch of darkness and silence. With no windows and no way to measure the passage of time, it's impossible to tell how long you've been trapped here—two days? Three? It feels like an eternity.
The oppressive weight of the enchanted dungeon has drained your energy, making every breath feel heavy, your limbs sluggish. You're exhausted, both physically and mentally, your mind a constant loop of desperation and survival. Every attempt to escape has been thwarted by the enchantments that render your magic nearly useless.
This morning, however, a change comes. The man you met at the party—Graham—arrives, his presence imposing as he steps into your cell. His face is cold and expressionless, and he doesn't bother with pleasantries as he clamps restraints around your wrists.
They're cold and heavy, dragging against your already weary body. He says nothing as he leads you through the dimly lit corridors, the sound of your feet shuffling echoing eerily against the stone walls.
Your breath catches when you finally step into the light of a grand staircase. The dungeon had been dark, suffocating, but now you find yourself in what looks like an ancient castle, every wall and floor made of solid stone. It's old, fortified, and the air is thick with enchantments, each one stronger than the last, keeping you completely helpless. There's a distant, bitter thought in your mind: Even if you were at full strength, this place was designed to break people like you.
Graham's grip tightens as he leads you up several staircases and down a long corridor. Your body aches from the strain of being kept bound for so long, but you force yourself to stay on your feet, the exhaustion settling in your bones. You won't give them the satisfaction of seeing you fall.
Finally, you reach a set of large double doors that creak open, revealing a lavish bathroom. It's a stark contrast to the dungeon below, filled with marble, gold fixtures, and soft candlelight casting flickering shadows against the walls. And there, sitting comfortably in a high-backed chair, is Evan. His eyes gleam as he watches you enter, a predatory smile curling his lips.
You feel your heart drop into your stomach as Graham pushes you forward, the restraints digging into your wrists as he steps back.
"Shower," Evan commands, his voice cold, clipped. "You stink."
You stare at him, your body screaming for rest, for relief. But you know better than to resist now. Your mind is too tired, your body too weak to fight any more.
Graham removes the restraints, and you shuffle toward the shower, the cool tile beneath your feet sending a chill up your spine. Evan watches you with that same unsettling gaze, his eyes trailing over you as if you were a prize rather than a person. The knowledge that he will be watching your every move as you shower makes your skin crawl, but you have no choice. You need this—the water, the brief moment of cleanliness.
You step into the large shower, and the moment the warm water hits your skin, your muscles tense before relaxing. It feels good, almost too good, and for a moment, you allow yourself to simply stand there, letting the water wash away the grime, the fear.
But Evan's presence is a constant reminder that this is no reprieve. He sits just outside the glass partition, his arms crossed over his chest, his gaze never leaving you.
"You're not doing a very good job, Princess," Evan says, his tone mocking. "I'm sure your husbands would be disappointed."
His words cut through the fleeting peace like a knife. You turn your back to him, scrubbing yourself as quickly as you can, the water turning grey as it swirls down the drain.
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Suffering Part 6: No Longer
FanfictionYou're attempting to break free from the tight bonds of Severus Snape and Lucius Malfoy, while trying to find a balance within yourself. Was being a potions master really what you wanted? Let us see how this unfolds. (I will be updating this soon, j...