Admittedly, it had only been a couple of hours. But by then, Gren knew his prison better than the back of his hand.

The spiral staircase directly in front of him made of thick stone slabs. He could count nineteen of them jutting out of the support pillar.

There were no railings though. If Gren was the one designing the place he would have added railings. The lack of any sort of barrier made it way too easy to fall off the side and get injured. He supposed it fit with the aesthetics of the dungeon but how hard would it be to put in some safety measures?

Then there were the two book shelves that didn't contain any books. There were a couple of canvas bags and a couple of odd looking jars, but for the life of him Gren couldn't figure out what they were for.

It was entirely possible that it was just some bits random wares that the usual dungeon warden had left here. But then again, Gren hadn't seen Able at all since arriving at the castle. He usually sat in his little office behind Gren with the ring of keys that he would spin around on his wrists while his parakeet Georgie would try to sing along to the jingling.

Gren didn't really have much mobility in his position, and he could only crank his neck around so far, but the utter silence from the room behind him was telling. He couldn't even hear Georgie's feet scratching against his metal perch.

He figured Lord Viren was the one responsible... Firing the warden…

At least he hoped Able was only fired, or simply assigned to a different position…

Magic torches! There were magic torches there too, with weird blue glowing crystals sitting atop the wooden handle things.

Gren couldn't really remember the exact name of those crystals. They did a good job lighting up a room that was so far down underneath the castle, but Gren would have just gone with regular fire.

There was a torch near his left hand next to the doorway to Able's old office space. It may have been a great light sources but it did nothing to warm up the chilly air of the dungeons.

Gren was half convinced that it was actually sucking the heat out of the musty atmosphere. Even with all of his layer and the armor, Gren could practically feel frost forming on the tips of his ears.

Which was crazy, right? It was the middle of summer. It shouldn't have been this cold.

Actually, that was probably how those magic torches worked. Converting heat into light. Gren wasn't even sure if that was right but then again, magic didn't really make sense to him. He wasn't a mage.

Either way, the magic torches still sucked. And there were four of them in the room which really didn't help much.

Two were mounted on the wall on the wall on the far left, illuminating the stacked barrels and on of the bookshelves. Another one was right next to him, and the last was nestled between a niche with a statue inside it and the entrance to the corridor across from him.

The main body of the dungeon where the prisoners were actually supposed to be held.

Gren didn't know why Viren didn't throw him into one of the cells. Unless they'd somehow managed to fill up all twelve of the empty cells in the two months Gren had been at the Breach, there should have been some room.

It would have been much more comfortable to have a cell where he could walk around and stretch his legs then have to be stuck in the lobby area with his arms chained to the wall.

He'd only been there for three- maybe four hours but his knees were locked and his legs were getting numb and tingly.

With a grimace, he kicked his left foot out a couple of times to try and wake the limb up. Then he did the same with his right.

It helped a little, but not by much. He'd kill to have a chance to sit down and just stop standing for a little while.

Gren blinked his eyes. And idea popped into his head.

Carefully, he leaned forward. The chains around his wrist creaking in protest with the movement as he hopped both his feet up against the wall.

Instantly, relief shot through his legs as they had a moment's rest. And then he winced in pain.

The cold metal cuffs cut into his flesh as his wrists supported his entire weight. Gren could only hold the position for a couple of moments before his feet slammed back down onto the floor.

"Nope, not good. Not a good idea." he muttered to himself, rotating his shoulders.

The Lieutenant heaved a sigh and leaned back against the wall.

Lord Viren said that he would meet with him at nine right? The mage would come in the morning.

There was nothing Gren could do but wait it out for now.

Author's Note:

I know I should be working on my other stories but I binge watched The Dragon Prince while I was sick and I just had to write something, I am absolutely in love with this show and I NEED more episodes but fanfiction is the best substitute I can get right now.

The play "Waiting for Godot" by Samuel Beckett is a huge inspiration for this fic, and if you've ever read the play you have a pretty good idea of the plot of this story. But if it's all the same to you, it is still very different from Beckett's work.

Please don't hesitate to leave a comment/review. Feedback is the greatest motivation you can give to an Author, if you want to see more of this story please please please let me know in the comments and just tell me what you liked about it.