You screamed for hours upon hours without end, until they finally laid you to rest. All you wanted was some goddamned hardtack. Not a fucking heartattack!
You fell down to the ground, exhausted, tired, and absolutely worn out. If there were anymore synonyms, to explain your ridiculous amount of exhaustion, you couldn't think of it. Time moved fast, they seemed to give you a small bit of hardtack everyday, and a small cup of water. They spat in your food, and talked very... crassly of what they would do to you. The guards did at least. You weren't hopeless yet though, your fighting spirit barely contained in your being.
The entranced king came to see you every once in a while, out of it, almost as much as you were. You were planning for escape, remembering old spells you learned in your younger years, before the witches that taught you realised your genderless buffoonery was exactly that; buffoonery. At least, to them it was. To you? It was you. It was your identity. It was everything so far you have fought for, that everyday you suffered for, and continued to present yourself as; something that you would never blaspheme with association to the word 'buffoonery.'
The royal guard, the one clad in armour unlike the other's followed the king around, seeming to care and be a lot more gentle than you thought possible. His eyes were haunted by memories only of those who have lost or done things that have made them lose. He seemed tired, and so concerned, the concern masked behind his stoic demeanour and his literal helmet.
You were in that cell for...... who knows how long. Sometimes they skipped meals.... sometimes they left you for dead for a couple days. You never really knew what day it was. Only knowing by the moving of shifts.
The cell held you hostage, as it should, as you lazed around while you were in there, shivering on the floor, and crying silently. You hated this bullshit. More so because all the guards seemed to have..... intentions with you.
The days stacked up. More, and more, and more and more. It seemed to be around 3 months before the king finally came down to your cell. For the final time....
Oh shit....
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Hope you liked the chapter, have a lovely day my loves :)
YOU ARE READING
The soldier, the poet, and the king.
FantasyI got inspired by a song, and now here we are. This follows the story of three characters, a misunderstood knight, an underrated poet, and a dark (soon to be) Queen. Enjoy! Also, this may be possibly triggering, but does not include subjects such a...
