6 views
Realm of Death
Season 1, Episode 2
Marris woke up to find himself in a dark dungeon with only a shattered window. His head was throbbing from the hit. He moaned in pain as he struggled to his feet. The pains were excrutiating but that wasn't what pained him. To think that his own personal attendant had betrayed him was unbearable. He had trusted Arla and had even gone the extreme of telling her his secrets. Arla sold her out. The pains spiked a lethal impulse and sent it to his brain. It couldn't process the information. Arla was too good to be a traitor.
Marris was hurt and there was nothing he could do. There was no way out for him to escape. He was casted to hell. The queen was going to torture him till his death. His poor father, and sister would be sick and worried about him. He hissed upon anticipating their reaction when they learn he had been captured by the tyrant.
In a way he felt a false hope not to give up. He had to escape, for the sake of his family. He had an obligation he couldn't neglect. The whole kingdom depended on him. The thoughts of the civilians, his sister and his father fuelled his determination to escape. A prison guard with a helmet covering his face appeared and struck the railings. Marris glanced at him as he grabbed the deadbolt and unlocked it. It swung open and he scuttled inside, pulled Marris from the floor and hauled him off to the throne room.
The Queen, a tall plump middle-aged woman was sitting in a regal golden throne. Her long dark hair was lying curly behind her back. Like all queens, she was beautiful. Her long velvet gown was decorated with flowers of assorted colours. Her golden crown was adorned with daffodils. Beside her stood two armed guards. On a raised platform sat her chancellor and personal advisors. A queue of civilians were standing at the far end of the throne room. The large door to the room slid open to reveal Prince Marris and the swordsmen. He dragged him across the red rug to the queen and made him kneel before her.
Arla was standing beside the queen. She whispered something into her ears and Marris stared at her in awe. The queen nodded slightly. She rose to her feet and stood in a pair of high heeled boots. She sauntered to Marris and smirked.
"Let me see his face," she instructed. The swordmen grabbed Marris' hair and pulled it backwards. Marris huffed.
"Prince Marris Spencer, the son of King Arthur Spencer. What an hour beyond reckoning. I finally have you in my humble abode!" she exclaimed and sashayed to the throne.
"Hello, Meghan. I see you still..."
The swordmen punched him across the face.
"You will address the queen with respect!" He yelled. Marris scoffed.
"The Queen?" he repeated impishly.
"But I don't see any queen," he murmured.
"All I see is a witch dressed as a queen with a bunch of fools as her subjects," he shouted. The statement garnered a jolt. The civilians gasped. The swordsmen was about to strike him again when Meghan gestured to him to halt.
"You have such an aserbic tongue and so full of humour, Marris. I would be worried about my death if I were you," she said brusquely.
"I'm not afraid to die, Meghan. And I don't expect you not to kill me. It's the least you can. You're a monster, a cunning witch and a selfish leader!" he thundered.
Meghan scoffed.
"You make me laugh, Marris. Your father took something away from me and I'm just doing the same to him. I am not the monster here. It's you and your wretched family who are the monsters!" she retorted and stretched out a hand towards the guard beside her. He handed her a sword. Meghan smirked and flitted towards Marris.
"You're going to die, you little warrior and then I will send your head to Arthur as a gift," she chirped and halted in front of Marris. She raised the sword and just when she was about to decapitate him, she faltered. She placed the sword on the nape of Marris' neck.
"Why did you stop, my Queen?" Arla asked anxiously. Megan smirked.
"I have a better idea!"
© Issakarazak
Marris woke up to find himself in a dark dungeon with only a shattered window. His head was throbbing from the hit. He moaned in pain as he struggled to his feet. The pains were excrutiating but that wasn't what pained him. To think that his own personal attendant had betrayed him was unbearable. He had trusted Arla and had even gone the extreme of telling her his secrets. Arla sold her out. The pains spiked a lethal impulse and sent it to his brain. It couldn't process the information. Arla was too good to be a traitor.
Marris was hurt and there was nothing he could do. There was no way out for him to escape. He was casted to hell. The queen was going to torture him till his death. His poor father, and sister would be sick and worried about him. He hissed upon anticipating their reaction when they learn he had been captured by the tyrant.
In a way he felt a false hope not to give up. He had to escape, for the sake of his family. He had an obligation he couldn't neglect. The whole kingdom depended on him. The thoughts of the civilians, his sister and his father fuelled his determination to escape. A prison guard with a helmet covering his face appeared and struck the railings. Marris glanced at him as he grabbed the deadbolt and unlocked it. It swung open and he scuttled inside, pulled Marris from the floor and hauled him off to the throne room.
The Queen, a tall plump middle-aged woman was sitting in a regal golden throne. Her long dark hair was lying curly behind her back. Like all queens, she was beautiful. Her long velvet gown was decorated with flowers of assorted colours. Her golden crown was adorned with daffodils. Beside her stood two armed guards. On a raised platform sat her chancellor and personal advisors. A queue of civilians were standing at the far end of the throne room. The large door to the room slid open to reveal Prince Marris and the swordsmen. He dragged him across the red rug to the queen and made him kneel before her.
Arla was standing beside the queen. She whispered something into her ears and Marris stared at her in awe. The queen nodded slightly. She rose to her feet and stood in a pair of high heeled boots. She sauntered to Marris and smirked.
"Let me see his face," she instructed. The swordmen grabbed Marris' hair and pulled it backwards. Marris huffed.
"Prince Marris Spencer, the son of King Arthur Spencer. What an hour beyond reckoning. I finally have you in my humble abode!" she exclaimed and sashayed to the throne.
"Hello, Meghan. I see you still..."
The swordmen punched him across the face.
"You will address the queen with respect!" He yelled. Marris scoffed.
"The Queen?" he repeated impishly.
"But I don't see any queen," he murmured.
"All I see is a witch dressed as a queen with a bunch of fools as her subjects," he shouted. The statement garnered a jolt. The civilians gasped. The swordsmen was about to strike him again when Meghan gestured to him to halt.
"You have such an aserbic tongue and so full of humour, Marris. I would be worried about my death if I were you," she said brusquely.
"I'm not afraid to die, Meghan. And I don't expect you not to kill me. It's the least you can. You're a monster, a cunning witch and a selfish leader!" he thundered.
Meghan scoffed.
"You make me laugh, Marris. Your father took something away from me and I'm just doing the same to him. I am not the monster here. It's you and your wretched family who are the monsters!" she retorted and stretched out a hand towards the guard beside her. He handed her a sword. Meghan smirked and flitted towards Marris.
"You're going to die, you little warrior and then I will send your head to Arthur as a gift," she chirped and halted in front of Marris. She raised the sword and just when she was about to decapitate him, she faltered. She placed the sword on the nape of Marris' neck.
"Why did you stop, my Queen?" Arla asked anxiously. Megan smirked.
"I have a better idea!"
© Issakarazak
