Dawn of Dragons

Chapter 13: Rhett

Luther awoke when the now familiar clang of the dungeon door opened. He sat up, and the soft cotton blanket fell away. He quickly clutched it back up. His familiar visitor came down, carrying another tray of food.

"Hello, father," Luther greeted him. He replied with a grunt.

His real name was Sir Rhett. But he had gotten used to being called "father" from Luther.

Luther looked eagerly at the plate of food that was displayed in front of him, and he wasn't disappointed. Every since the second meal given to him that had contained a little bit of rich cheese, Rhett always brought something extra along besides the water and bread to spice it up a little bit.

This time, Rhett had brought an assortment of berries, strawberries, raspberries, blueberries, and blackberries. Luther happily dug in, while Rhett sat across from him and watched. When Luther had finished, Rhett said, "How was it?"

"The best," Luther replied. "Thank you, father,"

"No need to call me father," Rhett said. "Just Rhett will do."

"No, I think I'll stick with "father.""

Rhett sighed, but Luther could tell he was pleased. "Alright then."

There was an awkward silence, then Luther broke it. "I want to escape," he said, his shaggy, dirty black hair falling over his black eyes, which greatly resembled his sister. "No, I need to escape."

Rhett pondered over this for a moment. "What will you do after?" He finally asked.

"I'll find my sister." Luther said. "I'll definitely find her. I must escape. Aria will know what to do. She always knows what to do."

"All right," Rhett said. "Only because I care about you so much now. I don't want you to leave. I haven't had a son in years." At these words, Luther glowed with pride, he was being acknowledged as a son by a man. "But, if it makes you happy, I'll let you go. I'll be here tonight, with a plan. However, I will not bring you any supplies, because I know if I give you a bag of provisions, if you are caught, they will suspect me. I'll be back tonight."

* * *

When Rhett returned, he found Luther sleeping on the ground. His peaceful face dreaming reminded him of his own son when he was little, and it almost brought a tear to his eye, but Rhett angrily wiped it away. His loving, caring son was a thing of the past now.

"Luther, wake up," he hissed. Luther immediately sat up, and when he saw Rhett, he grinned.

"Do not smile so easily," Rhett said grimly, and Luther's smile disappeared. "This is it." He gave Luther a big set of keys. "The one in the far right is the one that will open your cell." Rhett pointed to it.

"Why do I need to know this?" Luther asked, confused.

"Because you will be the one opening this door."

Rhett took the knife from his belt, and before Luther could scream at him to stop, Rhett stabbed himself in the arm.

Thick crimson liquid dripped down from the deep wound, and Rhett gave a shallow scream of agony. A small pool of blood started to form underneath him.

"Do not worry about me," Rhett said, gritting his teeth. "Take the keys and get out! The other guards will be here to investigate soon."

"I can't just leave you!" Luther cried, clutching the bars of his cell desperately.

"DO IT!" Rhett roared. "OR ELSE THIS WILL ALL BE FOR NOTHING!"

Luther stared at him, tears streaming down his face, before quickly unlocking his cell and stepping out. Rhett handed him the bloody knife, still dripping with blood. Their hands touched, the young and the old.

"Thank you, father," Luther said, his voice thick. He took the knife, turned around, and fled through the door.