The place is in complete ruins, looking as if it could fall apart at any moment. The walls covered with a type of lichen-like plant that I have never seen before. The ceiling laced with cracks that splinter and branch off to join the walls in a way that makes me think of cave-ins, a constant stream of water leaking from the cracks before collecting along the floor in puddles.

Torch light flickers dimly along the walls, fighting a losing battle against the blackness that threatens to pull it under. The darkness of the dungeons is thick and cloying, clinging to everything like sticky threads of smoke, waiting to drag those foolish enough to step inside it into the shadows, never to be heard from again. The sight makes me shiver and I steal myself to take another step, my feet sloshing in the muddy water that pools across the floor.

I gulp as the cold water sinks into my boots and soaks the hem of my pants. It feels horrible and I can’t help, but grimace at the unpleasant sensation.

“How much farther?” I grit out to the guards that are flanking either side of me, torches held aloft in their hands, faces blank and unyielding. They might as well be brick walls with their unaturally blank faces and their unchanging expressions, but luckily for me they are still technically humans.

Humans who would rather not be sentenced to death for ignoring a direct question from their king and before even a beat passes, the one to my right bows his head respectfully and begins to speak.

“We are nearly there, my king.” He tells me, voice a deep monotone that, under normal circumstances, would probably make me tune him out. However these are not normal circumstances and I listen with bated breaths for his response, you can thank the dank creepy dungeon for that.

I seriously need to fire whoever built this thing.

I nod in response to the guard and we fall back into an uneasy silence. Well uneasy on my part at least. The guards look as if they haven’t even noticed what with the way their stony expressions never change. They don’t even flinch at the cold water at our feet nor frown at the way it sloshes inside our shoes.

We turn another corner and suddenly I am hit by a rush of cool air. I can tell by the way it feels colder and less stale than the air currently surrounding me that the corridor must open up into a large room very soon.

My suspicions are confirmed as we round another corner and step straight into a large open space. The floor is decidedly less wet here and I breath a soft sigh of relief, even though the walls and ceiling look about the same.

“Please stay close to us your majesty. There are many dangers lurking in the darkness from here on out.” The guard to my left warns in the same monotone voice as the other. I raise my eyebrow slightly at his comment, confused as to what possible dangers could be hiding in my own dungeon.

I nod again and we continue walking, my guards hanging closer to me than they had in the corridor. I feel suddenly claustrophobic at their close proximity and spread my arms out a bit in an attempt to gain some space. My arm bumps into the guards but neither one pulls away.

Their reaction, or rather lack thereof, annoys me to no end and with a deep sigh I stride forward, my long legs outpacing them as I pull ahead.

“Watch out your highness!” One of the guards shouts and I nearly miss his warning, managing to pull myself away right before walking straight into a large metal box filled with spikes.

My guards are on me in seconds, strong hands pulling me back from the box. “What in the world is that?” I ask, my eyes unable to look away from the odd contraption.

“It is called an Iron Maiden, my king. Very dangerous.” The guard on my left says gruffly, a small amount of emotion finally leaking into his voice.

“And it is used for…?” I trail off and give him a curious look.

“Forgive me my lord for I’m not sure. I’ve never had to torture anyone before.” He tells me honestly and, never having been faced with anyone lacking the knowledge I seek, my eyes widen a bit in astonishment.

“Please come this way your majesty.” The other guard says and I let him lead me around the spiky box.

We find three more Iron Maidens, some mettle tables, and more than a few cages scattered in seemingly random places as we walk through the dilapidated dungeons. At last we reach a lone cell hidden along the back wall of the room. I approach it cautiously, signaling for my guards to stay back as I do. There don’t appear to be any more cells anywhere in sight and for a minute I stop to wonder at the strangeness of it all. I can’t figure out if the person who built this place only bothered building one cell, or if he scattered them around randomly like he did the rest of the torture equipment.

Either way the man deserves to be fired, from a canon, because I’m the king not a merchant or bread seller.

I push the thought aside, opting to look through the bars of the cage instead. A lone figure hangs at the back of the cell, suspended by his hands from thick metal chains. Why the chains need to be so thick is beyond me, It’s not as if we are holding a Goliath prisoner, no matter how ripped the man dangling from them are.

“Min.” I say coldly upon seeing him. I’m not looking for a response nor expecting one, which is why it comes as such a surprise when his head snaps up and his eyes find mine.

“Oh, so you remember my name, or at least my family name.” He scoffs at me, his head lolling slightly to the side as he speaks. “I suppose that's good enough though, I mean, it’s not as if I’ve been with you since we were both eleven years old or anything.” He continues sarcastically and I scowl at him.

“Do not dare speak to me so casually, you piece of filth.” I growl lowly, but he only laughs in my face.

“Oh, I’m filth now am I? If that’s what I am then why have you let me live.” He challenges and just like all the other times he has challenged me over the years I can’t help but respond.

“A minor inconvenience. One that will soon be rectified once I get the information I seek.” I tell him flippantly, like it doesn’t really matter. Something glows behind his eyes and he smiles like he has already worked this all out in his head.

“You want the name of the other man. The one I was with last night.” He sounds so confident in his answer that I nearly lie and tell him he's wrong, if only to see the look on his face, but I know that would be stupid. What other reason could there be for blatantly ignoring the laws of my land and allowing him to live.

“Yes.” I concede after a moment's hesitation. “And I suppose you are not going to make this easy?”

“That would be far too simple.” He confirms my suspicion, eyes twinkling mischievously. “No, since I’m already going to die, I thought I might as well have some fun before I do.” The smile he is wearing sends a bolt of wariness down my spine and I grit my teeth in irritation.

“I am not here to help you have fun, now I demand you tell me what I want to know.” I growl at him and bang on the bars for good measure. The sound reverberates through out the room, making dust fall from the ceiling, but he doesn’t even flinch.

“I don’t think so.” He shakes his head slowly, nonchalantly and I bang on the bars again, causing more dust to rain from the roof.

“You will tell me, or I will make your stay in the dungeons much more difficult than it has to be.” I rage at him, my anger rising tenfold at his casual attitude.

“I can make it fun for you too.” He tells me after a moment, a suggestive look in his eyes and I suddenly get the urge to hit him.

“How dare you say such things, you abomination. I should have you flogged for thinking such depravities.” I practically spit the words at him in my rage. I can feel my face growing hotter with each new word, until I am nearly boiling over with anger.

“I was merely suggesting we make it a game of clues. You’re the one thinking depravities.” He says with a laugh that makes my anger rise even more.

“I can not stand you, you repellent sodomite.” I tell him before turning to face my guards. “Take him down and give him 20 lashes. I am returning to my room to prepare for the morning ceremony.” And with that I turn on my heels and walk away. He shouts after me as I walk away, but I don't look back. 

“Fuck you, Vigil.” He practically spits my family name at me. “I swear if I get my hands on you...” I never hear the end of his sentence. All I hear is a gut wrenching thud as one of the guards gives him a sharp punch, probably to the stomach.