Chapter 2
The dungeon reeked of damp stone and dried blood. Shadows clung to the walls like leeches, feeding off the flickering torchlight.
She lay crumpled on the cold floor.
Her crimson hair, once bright as flame, was now tangled and soaked with filth. Fingernails torn, skin bruised and bloodied, she looked barely alive. Yet in the dim light, her eyes flickered open—hazel, sharp, unbroken.
The iron door groaned open.
A herald's voice echoed, haughty and precise.
"King Tommen of House Aragon, First of His Name, Ruler and Protector of Aethelgar!"
Boots struck stone.
He entered.
Tall, broad-shouldered, cloaked in midnight-blue, King Tommen radiated cruel elegance. Golden hair cascaded over his shoulders, and his blue eyes gleamed like sharpened glass.
He smiled.
"Lift her."
The guards hauled her into a wooden chair. Leather straps bit into her wrists and ankles. She stirred weakly, but still—she met his gaze.
Tommen stepped closer, brushing a bloodied strand of hair from her face.
"What a waste," he said softly. "Tell me, witch… what did they do to that pretty face?"
He circled her like a predator.
"Shall we clean it?"
Without warning, a guard dumped icy water over her head.
She gasped, flinching—but when she looked up again, her stare was fierce.
"You are wasting your time, Tommen," she whispered.
He chuckled.
"I have time. You do not."
A brazier was wheeled in, its flames crackling. Tommen crouched beside her, voice a conspiratorial whisper.
"Old tales say a witch's power lives in her hair. Shall we test that?"
He grabbed a fistful of her hair—and sliced.
The severed strands fell into fire.
Her scream tore through the dungeon. Blood streamed from her eyes. Her body writhed and seized.
Tommen watched, entranced.
"Oh? That painful?" He leaned closer. "Shall we try again?"
Another cut. Another scream.
Until finally—silence.
She slumped in the chair, unconscious.
A guard entered.
"Your Highness. Prince Hosea and Prince Raymond have arrived."
Tommen's face darkened. He stood, one last glance at the witch.
"We'll continue our game later."
He turned and left, his cloak trailing behind him.
The brazier burned.
And the witch did not move.