Rise of the Unfavored Princess

Ch. 15: The Dungeon

I scream like I’m in a horror movie as I feel myself being dragged back. The maid tugs back, but it’s futile, like throwing an egg at a rock. I’m tugged back under the hedge roughly, and a few sharp twigs rip the delicate fabric of my sleeve and the skin below. Sunlight hits me once more and I’m back in the Sunset Palace.

“Let me go!” I yell on instinct. I look over my shoulder and the grim mug of Sir Berrick is looking right into mine. I have never been so scared in my life, even during the poisoning incident. Tears have begun leaking out of my eyes and I have to resist the urge to full-on sob like a baby at the strange, scary man in front of me.

“Where are you going, slave?” he asked calmly as if he were speaking about the weather. “Her highness Princess Julia isn’t done with you.”

The vice-like grip he has on my ankle hurts like hell and I’m worried he’s going to inflict permanent damage on my tiny leg. It looks more like a doll’s leg than a human’s in his massive grasp.

“I’m a p-princess, too! You’re hurting me, sir!” I bawl. Not my proudest moment, but I feel incredibly threatened.

“She is, sir! She is! I’m ‘er maid, yes I am!” a little voice says behind me in a rough accent I heard often in the slums.

I turn around to a blessed sight. The young maid who had tried to help drag me out earlier has crawled underneath into the hornet’s nest with me and is now standing valiantly before Sir Berrick. He lets go of my ankle and I crab walk back while the maid stares fiercely into the eyes of the beast. The sight is almost biblical, like David versus Goliath. Except that the saint of a maid who came to defend me would not end up as lucky against Goliath as David did.

“And what proof do you have?” Sir Berrick asks nonchalantly. The remaining royal guards look like they’re caught between a rock and a hard place. I know they recognize me, but they don’t dare to inform Sir Berrick. What a load of cowards.

.....

“Erm... well... she has them golden eyes, just like His Majesty!” she said after a moment of indecision.

Sir Berrick looked down at her as if she was a bug.

“That can be easily faked with the right magic. What would a little thing like you know about how His Majesty, the emperor’s eyes truly look?” It is an unfair verbal fight. As a young, probably uneducated kid, this maid doesn’t stand a chance against this royal guard.

She knows it too.

“That’s not fair! You’re bein’ mean to her highness. She is a princess. I promise!” the maid said valiantly.

“What worth is the promise of a maid of a slave? She might have ordered you to lie for her.” Sir Berrick concluded. Julia has calmed down slightly and is now watching the unfolding scene with an evil smile on her face. I desperately wish to slap the look right off her cheeks, but I’m still crying on the grass with a throbbing ankle.

“Grab the slave and escort her to the dungeon,” Sir Berrick ordered, folding his hands behind his back as royal guards, no royal lapdogs, stepped forward to obey. The black-haired maid instantly began to protest, until Berrick turned his back and continued speaking.

“Actually, grab them both.” His awful smile is etched in my mind as he walks off behind my gleeful half-sister. The family reunions I have experienced thus far at the royal palace have exceeded my expectations by miles.

The maid is surprised by the turn of events and dives under the hedge like a hare escaping a fox. She is quick on her feet, unlike me and my now injured ankle, and she is gone within seconds. Two royal guards wrap a hand around each arm securely, as if with one guard I could have somehow escaped. I’m glad at least one of us got away.

I’m still crying as I half hobble half get dragged to the official exit of Sunset Palace. But they aren’t tears of sadness, they are tears of rage. I’m furious, practically seeing red. I hear Julia’s twinkly laugh behind me as if our encounter never happened, and I start shaking with anger.

There is blood on my tongue and I vaguely recall my chin violently bumping into the ground when Sir Berrick dragged me back into my sister’s horrible palace. Saliva mixes with the blood and my bitten tongue stings.

“My mother told me that everyone has their own path in life. Slaves should remain slaves. No point in straying from the path.” Julia breezily says. A sense of deja vu hits me along with absolute disgust. I whip my head over my shoulder, gobsmacked at the words coming out of this kid’s mouth and she is seated at the gazebo, Sir Berrick standing beside her and nodding. She is eating a bag of candy, peppermints.

That is one of the lines Julia says to Clara when they are both teenagers and Clara confesses she wishes to date the crown prince. I’m not certain if it is an exact word for word quote, but it was a pivotal moment in the book when Julia revealed how twisted she is inside. Why am I hearing it now, 12 years too early?

If only I still had the papers I had written the plot onto back when I was living with Bianca. I had been thorough enough to write down any quotes and phrases I could remember, as well as any supporting characters no matter how minor. After all, It’s been five years since I read the web and without my written reference, recalling anything is much more difficult.

My chest burns at the sight of peppermint. I never knew it was possible to hate a certain candy that much and I’ve had a perpetual disgust of candy corn since as long as I can remember but the minty. I think over the words that Julia said and wonder if it’s meant to a message to me. Peppermint could be telling me to let the plot progress as it is supposed to and stop trying to change my fate.

My mind explores the possibilities I haven’t considered yet. How much of an influence can Peppermint play on the plot? Is it possible for me to permanently change it so much that even Peppermint can’t do anything about it? Since I’m deep in thought, I walk obediently with the guards out of the exit of the palace and many onlookers stare in shock and a little horror. None of them are stupid. They know exactly who I am. But they also know who the empress is. For me to be dragged out of her daughter’s palace, it is clear this isn’t a case for them to interfere in.

So Peppermint wants me to be humiliated and forced back into the meek Winter from the web? Not a chance. If it’s humiliation they want, it’s humiliation they’ll get and then some. I exaggerate my hobble, wincing with each step as if there are nails on the ground piercing my foot. Look, I want to tell people, take a good look at what your so-called promised child does to her own sister. Even if no one can interfere, people can and will talk.

One would think I was lame with the way I’m dragging my leg behind me. I can feel the blood pooling in my mouth again and an idea comes to mind. I come to a complete stop once I’m in the marble hallway with all eyes on me. I shake a little and shiver where I stand, trying my best to look dreadfully hurt. It isn’t difficult at all. I feel exhausted and my eyes are already fluttering. Through my flickering vision, I look for the dark-haired maid who had tried to save me. She is nowhere to be seen.

“Please move, your highness,” the guard to my left murmurs nervously under his breath. I stifle a bitter laugh. So now he wants to acknowledge my title.

Rather than cursing the fool out, I just look at him with teary eyes and say, “Sorry,” with a wavery voice. Then I grab my chest and in a move would make me a veteran of a daytime soap opera, I spew out all the blood on my mouth on the floor and hang weakly in their arms. I can hear a gasp from the assembled crowd as rivulets of blood trickle from my mouth all over my light-colored dress, the perfect canvas for my act. Now I look like I’ve been beaten within an inch of my life, instead of just having a sprained ankle and a bitten tongue.

The guards move faster now as a few brave souls begin to voice their dissent. I make a show of bobbing my head with each step the guards take as if I’m actually unconscious and the displeased mutters only grow louder. As infuriating as Peppermint has proved themself to be, they aren’t my immediate problem. No, the first and largest target on my list is the empress.

Julia’s cruel words still ring in my ears, words that shouldn’t be in the mouths of children her age. And she had explicitly pointed out that her mother had taught her that. Empress Katya is definitely packing a lot of hatred for little old me if she’s ranting this much to Julia in her spare time. I’m almost flattered.

Passersby stumble to a shocked stop as I’m dragged past them. However, the bystander effect is in motion. While the surprise of watching a young child looking worse for wear being dragged around horrifies them, no one will vocalize it. Because even in my fancy new palace surrounded by maids, I’m nothing. Without any power, any backing, or love, I’m worthless in this piranha filled palace. That’s going to have to change.

But changing my status feels daunting as I begin to smell piss and other unmentionables. The tips of my pure white shoes are dragging through muck and grime. I no longer hear people murmuring in shock, instead only bleak silence and the occasional moan. I don’t need to open my eyes to figure out where I am.

The dungeon. Sir Berrick really did mean it. Even if I was a nobleman’s daughter and not a princess, this is too harsh of a punishment. An actual child could be severely traumatized. Heck, my 26-year-old mind is pretty freaked out too. But mostly pissed that these goonish royal guards, members of the honorable knightage meant to protect the royal family, are willing to toss me in a dangerous dungeon just to stay on the right side of the empress. The stench of corruption is ripe in this place, along with feces.

The drying blood around my mouth has become itchy and I scratch at it, only to be surprised by the clank of metal. Something heavy hangs from my wrists and my heart skips a beat at the sight of gigantic manacles locked around my tiny arms. I must have been getting too deep into my act not to notice being dragged into a cell and getting chained up.

My head feels heavy and I’m no longer faking it as my head bounces on my chest. I’m going to pass out soon. My delicate disposition and this rough palace experience do not go hand in hand at all. Through the fog that is beginning to cover my mind, I hear a furious voice bellow.

“What nonsense is this, Edward?”

Ah, Finn. Long gone is his usual know-it-all tone I’m accustomed to dealing with, instead there is an uncompromising steel in his voice as I blurrily spot his bright yellow hair through the bars. Is he upset about me? I weakly chuckle, which sounds more like a cough in my dry throat and hear Finn call my name as I fade into darkness. I didn’t think he would care.