Once again, the sunlight that had turned her surroundings golden only minutes before had disappeared, leaving her behind, swallowed in a darkness so deep that it made her mind play tricks on her. Lidea understood that disallowing any candles within the prison was done on purpose, yet another way of tormenting the criminals locked within its walls. The lack of distraction created a stage to be filled by whatever demons haunted a person. If she had learned something while being here, it was that no persecutor was as efficient as your own mind. She had long before lost the ability to sleep peacefully, but the silent darkness seemed to only spur on her restless thoughts.
Flashes of memories kept passing her by, showing her the many battlefields she had stood on. The pain, the blood, the anger. She saw the men who had followed her, men who had become her friends as they had stood at her side during all these years. All of them were dead now. Some of them died while fighting, others had been executed when the royal army finally conquered them. Now, she was the only one left, and she could still hear their screams of agony.
A familiar voice rang through the screams, asking her if she thought that everything had been worth it. It had been one of the last conversations that she had with old Sir Rhodry. He had looked tired, and fear had been etched into the lines of his face. Lidea could still remember her defensive response. She had told him not to talk nonsense but to focus on the fights ahead. A cruel and dishonest answer to a question that had been shared by many among them, herself included.
She had started her fight out of idealism, believing that others would soon see her cause and join. Only fourteen, she had been too young to thoroughly understand the implications of her actions. No help would come; it had been a fight that was doomed from the start. Her father's men must have known, however, they still decided to follow her lead and ended up paying the ultimate price for it. If she had known what she knew now, would she have chosen to do the same? Had she not been better off toeing the line as her mother had wanted her to? Then maybe all of them would have lived.
A silvery shine illuminated her cell, momentarily distracting her and breaking her depressive line of thought. She was surprised by its strength and imagined that it had to be a full moon or a phase near it. It must have been cloudy in the previous nights as she hadn't noticed the light before. If it was a full moon, then she had been here for at least a month. Though she had counted the days initially, she had long since stopped after losing any hope of escape. She had foolishly believed that an opportunity would arise eventually, that her guards would make a mistake and she would seize her chance. However, as the days passed, she realized there would be no openings. The guards knew that if she escaped, the king would hold them accountable. She was too important a prisoner – an aristocrat who had dared to stand up against the royal line, a person with the status and wealth to threaten a king and a potential rallying point for commoners. The king had to make an example out of her.
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No wonder her execution had been delayed. He likely intended to turn it into a spectacle, showing the entire country, especially the nobles, the consequences of challenging him. She wondered if anyone had been tempted to do the same. Though she doubted many of them cared about their king's morality, they surely desired the power and wealth associated with his position. He must have appeared weak, having been eluded for years by a noblewoman, or rather a young girl lacking any military experience. Reflecting on it, she was surprised that he hadn't been ousted yet, but then again, she supposed the church ensured their puppet remained in power.
Her attention was drawn by a soft rhythmic sound. For a moment, she wondered if she was imagining it, but the sound of footsteps became clearer as whoever was walking through the dungeon drew near. She closed her eyes, trying to catch any details. Food came once a day, at a random time when there was daylight, but not now. Otherwise, she never heard anyone, not even other prisoners. She assumed they had kept her separated in a different hallway of the dungeon.
This was the first time that the daily routine had been broken. It sounded like multiple people, she thought, at least three. Lidea recognized two pairs of footsteps as those of the guards, their metal boots causing a distinctive clanking on the stone floor, and the bundle of keys ringing with each step. But she also thought she could hear another pair, softer but growing clearer as they neared her door. Perhaps someone wearing leather boots. Could it be a visitor? The only ones who would even be interested in her existence would be her mother or sister. Both of them had looked down on her, stone-faced, while she had been dragged in front of His Majesty to receive her sentence. She doubted they would show. The king would keep an eye on them, anticipating any attempts they might make. For any other nobles, it would be a death sentence to come and find her.
Intrigued, she stood up, stretching her stiff limbs and wondering how long she had been sitting in the same position when she heard the lock on her door being opened.
"Time for confessions!"