3. Humiliated

The soft, steady flow of rain at sun fall was dripping into my grungy cell. I was deep within the dark dungeon of the castle, watching as the water started streaming down the wall and soaking into the straw floor. The rain had begun just after the armor-clad guards had handed me off to the maroon cloaked Jailers a few hours ago, leaving me to be promptly stripped naked. The shrouded men then shredded my dress and used its remnants as a flimsy, makeshift cast overtop my darkening, numb arm before tossing me into this cell and locking the door.

Now all I have to choose from is either watching the rain steam flow through my tiny window near the ceiling or entertain the sickening few lords that are on their hands and knees trying to peek through it.

I’d only been rotting for an hour before the first showed up; A lesser lord from the North who had been visiting the King already. But by hour 2, it was obvious word had spread about me, the 1st prisoner the Queen has sentenced to die, and it created a stir of people wanting to see. Luckily, the dungeons are only open to the lords and ladies, so it at least spared my full public scrutiny as I sat in one of the corners underneath the window, covering myself the best I could.

The Queen did spare my hair to my initial dismay. Shaving a werewolf's hair off, if even a mutt like me, is the same as cutting their fur, and too short can be quite painful. Though after the first Lord giving me a visit, it became clear as to why.

“I have a lady already…” the brown-haired Lord from the North snickered down at me. I ignored him as I attempted to get as close to the corner as possible so he couldn’t get a peek. “But I could give a pretty mutt like you a good fucking! Birth my bastard and he’d be the best bastard in all of Thames!” His voice was slurred and cracking, but his words made a few other brown-haired werewolf men laugh and cheer as they attempted to peek in as well. Every hoot and holler that came from those wolven pigs made me wish for a quicker moonrise.

“Aye!” Another shouted down, “I’ll make a whore like you my lady if you let me stick my cock in ya!” Again, they laughed together as if their stagnant jokes were even somewhat funny, but it only made me feel like nothing.

I finally turned my body away to face the wet wall, my bare back exposed to them as I tucked my knees in. Of course they started growling though, threatening to do ungodly things to me if I didn’t obey them.

The northern wolves have always been known to be a mean bunch, if only the King and Queen were anything but so the capital of Thames could be populated by more noble, respectful wolves instead. But the North has ruled for almost 50 years, their terror washed over the entire land in a deadly swoop and held, which made someone like me hiding directly under them the safest choice according to my mother; They’re always searching Thames for potential usurpers to kill.

A few knocks on my door instantly caught my attention as my head snapped to look, my puffy eyes locked onto it. The lords heard it as well, but that didn’t stop their tyranny of insults and sickness. Even as the door began to squeak open, they failed to even hesitate, they didn’t need to respect a jailer.

“Hey you!” A lord snapped at him, causing them to pause before the door had fully opened. “How much for the mutt!?” That question got the entire rowdy group to finally shut up as they all waited for an answer.

But the Jailer didn’t humor them, they just continued opening the door until it became quite clear to the unwanted crowd that this man was not who they expected at all. I immediately heard the flock scatter, though their throats rattled with anger while I stared at the man.

“Hello, my dear.” A soft spoken, greying bearded Meister greeted with a smile. He was dressed in a plain black hooded robe with a silver-chain necklace hanging from his neck, a silver paw print weighing it down before resting upon his collarbone. He closed the door behind him but didn’t move, his own bare feet being stabbed. “I’m Meister Dell, may I join you?”

I squinted at him, “why?” I attempted to keep myself covered, moving my hair to the front to help shield my breasts; a lump starting to form in my throat.

“Well to heal your arm of course, doesn’t it hurt?” His friendliness made me want to trust him, but I felt weary just the same. My arm is killing me, the makeshift wrap doing nothing still, but the idea of someone who serves my future killers touching it made me want to vomit. I turned my attention back to the wall, focusing on little ants that had made their way in.

Dell remained still, but he must’ve sensed my confusion. “I promise I won’t hurt you. I serve King Vaylor, yes, but I serve the Moon first.”

“I’m not a werewolf,” I muttered.

“But a mutt is still a child of the Moon. And your hair?” He caught my ear, and I looked at him with curiosity filling my soul, his warm smile never faltering.

“You know my bloodline?” I kept my voice low. Other than the fact white hair represents the most powerful werewolf lineage, I knew nothing. I’m not familiar with what ability my ancestors had or if anyone else was left. My mother was sure that after my grandpa had been assassinated when she was just a girl, it was only us remaining.

With both of us mutts, my human grandmother burned all the tomes my grandfather possessed instead of passing the knowledge on. The only thing she left us with was how to hide our scent.

“Of course I do, but can I please heal you first?”

“Just tell me, please, I’m going to die anyways.” I twisted about to get a view of the sky. The sun was nearly down, and soon the moonlight will blanket Thames.

“You’re not going to die tonight, dear. The King has ordered against it.” He motioned with his hand to join me once more, and I finally nodded after a slight pause. What’d I have to lose? Besides I was only filling up with more and more questions.

Not going to die? I was speechless as Dell took a seat onto the straw next to me, grabbing my arm so gently to move it a bit closer. I barely felt any pain, and his eyes? They only stayed on my wound.

As he examined it, he started answering me. “The King has ordered you to live. Despite the Queen’s wishes, he wants you to have a trial.” Dell started unwrapping my arm, but the cool air instantly felt like knives scraping my skin, and I quickly flinched, pulling my arm away carelessly. The sudden shock of piercing pain coursing through me made me scream out in agony, breaking nature’s calmness with a stabbing screech.

Tears immediately began to pour from the inner corners of my eyes and down my face. It was more painful now than when it happened, and Dell’s face was full of remorse as he started to apologize profusely. His voice was shaking as if he were about to cry as he attempted to reassure me, his watery green eyes staring into mine. “It’ll take a bit longer, but I will heal you,” he opened his hands to me, waiting for me to place my arm into them. I trusted him. I quickly nodded, sniffling as I blinked hastily to stop my crying. But as I placed my arm into his hands, my ears were greeted with the northern lords once more, my screams having attracted them.

“I thought we would’ve gotten a show!”

“White-haired whore seducing a Meister!”

“I’ll make you scream too!”

Dell ignored them, but his face flinched with each thing they said and a singular tear fell from his left eye. But his movements were meticulous as I fought my radiating pain watching him. He pulled one of his hands from under my arm and placed it just over it, mere inches, as he closed his eyes and tilted is bearded chin up slightly. His mouth started moving as he chanted silently and I only watched while failing to read his lips, clueless to what was going to happen.

Outside my window the Lords kept talking, their lines more and more gross and cruel by the second. I was about to stop and beg the meister to allow the King to kill me without a trial, but the loud crash of my cell door flying from its hinges stopped me. It flew across my small cell and embedded itself so far into the stone just below my window that it stayed; only missing Dell and me by a hair.

The Lords stopped talking instantly, unable to scatter as they were forced to bow on the ground instead, their outlandish behavior turning to fear within an instant.

King Vaylor was standing in the doorway, his chest rapidly moving up and down as his face twisted with anger. His eyes were locked on the lords outside, their heads down and faces nearly in the mud as their heavy clothing soaked in the rain. Dell wasn’t fazed though and simply continued his silent chant.

I, on the other hand, couldn’t breathe, the air getting stuck in my throat as my lips seemed to forget how to open. What’s going on!? First a Meister and now the King himself!? “Y.. your highness!” I blurted, trying to stand to greet him with a bow. But as I fought through the pain to rise to my feet, Dell’s claws from both hands sank deep into my arm, like 10 small daggers stabbing me all at once. I squealed in agony, and dropped back to the floor hard, unable to cover myself as I laid helpless upon the straw, paralyzed.

King Vaylor’s attention snapped to me within an instant, a slight smirk forming upon his lips. But I was powerless to do or say anything as darkness hastily started to smother each of my senses.

Was it their plan all along to kill me like this!?