Warnings: Pretty depressing chapter. Also, it's a bit short again.
Chapter Six
Adrenaline pumped through adolescent veins, allowing small fists to pound powerfully on the door. This is the door that kept Ciel locked in the damp, dark, and foul-smelling hallway.
"Trancy, you bastard! What do you think you're doing? Let me out!" Ciel bellowed at the top of his lungs in hope that someone nearby would hear him. He grasped the handle and attempted to push the obstacle away, but it seemed to be either locked or held shut. He assumed it was the latter.
When there was no answer, the boy's mind began to crawl through ideas of escape. His heart was pounding inside his chest and he let his head fall against the door in a way that could only be described as hopeless. He was going to die. If nobody came to his rescue, he'd starve. If he was found, he'd most likely be killed for disobeying the castle rules. Finain had told him the first day he was there that the dungeon was off limits.
Ciel glanced down the broken stone stairs and he kitted his eyebrows together in worry. Perhaps there were prison guards down there. The problem was, again, being caught lurking. Would they believe him if he told them Alois had shoved him down there? Ciel would not risk being caught. He would need to try his hardest to go down there without being noticed. He needed to find some way to escape, and the answer wasn't at the top of those stairs.
Ciel hesitated down each step, tackling each one carefully and making sure to make the least amount of noise possible. He ignored those evil shadows that, once again, jeered at him and disregarded his conscience screaming for him to stop. When he reached the bottom he tiptoed across dirt and pebbles, pivoted around the corner, and continued almost silently through the narrow, stone corridor. A single candle lit the stretch of the arched corridor and reminded him of the night he had bumped into Alois...
Ciel was jolted from his thoughts when a loud and unknown noise echoed through the prison. His body immediately hit the wall, his shoulder blades and spine pressing painfully into the wall in an attempt to hide. Silence filled the eerie dungeon once more, but Ciel stayed still instead of continuing forward. He growled quietly and cursed himself for being such a coward.
As soon as Ciel had calmed down enough to take another step in the same direction, the same noise erupted from an unknown location. However, this time, Ciel did not even flinch. Now the boy was doubly irked to know that he had just been frightened by a snore (albeit it was a rather loud snore). Ciel's forehead crinkled in wonder as he advanced.
At last, the peasant reached what appeared to be the main part of the dungeon—the place where the prisoners themselves stayed. The first thing Ciel noticed—which caused his tensed muscles to relax a bit—was a sleeping guard whose hair was long and white. The lazy man was slouched in a chair against the wall, his arms crossed over his rising and falling chest and his legs spread out. Ciel couldn't help but scoff at the sight.
The entire place smelled of mold, feces, urine, and worst of all, death. Ciel cupped a hand over his nose to block the putrid odor, and took deep, even breaths from his mouth to keep from getting sick. He had done nothing to deserve being locked down in that hellish place. Flashbacks of the dream he'd had concerning the king suddenly decided to show up, causing shivers of displeasure to rattle his small body. The conditions of the king's chamber were much like what he was currently seeing...
"Boy, please," croaked a voice from Ciel's left. Ciel whipped his head around to see a man shackled to the wall inside of his cell. The man's hair was red and tangled with dirt and knotted beyond repair. Barely any clothes covered his bony body and his eyes sagged with premature signs of age and exhaustion. "I need food. Please help me, I'm begging you. Please."
Ciel turned away when the man began to weep and continued on his way, knowing there was no way he could help anyone. A woman who was either sleeping soundly or freshly deceased rested up against the wall, her dirty blond head so limp that her chin dug into her protruding collarbone. Besides those two, it seemed that the rest of the cells were filled with decomposing bodies or grimy, old bones.
Ciel carried on for what felt like hours; the dungeon must have been the same size of the castle. He had at least been down there long enough to have gotten used to the smell; his hands now rested by his sides. When the boy's feet began to ache from his walk, he turned and began to tread back the way he came. He hadn't notice anything else that was particularly interesting or that would help him to escape. Just human bones that could have been as old as the castle itself.
The teen found that the bowels of the castle consisted of numerous chambers that were connected by arched, hallways. Each of the chambers contained the cells in which the prisoners stayed. The only chamber that seemed to hold prisoners was the first once, where the sleeping guard had been posted. Each chamber Ciel ventured into was just as revolting as the last.
When the boy finally reached—if he was counting correctly—the third chamber, he was once again jolted from his thoughts when another earsplitting noise startled him. This time it wasn't the snore of the slacking prison guard, but the howling of an old woman in chains. She threw her head back, screeched, and wrapped her wrinkled fingers around the rusting bars. The hag's eyes bulged out of her scull as she stared directly at Ciel's alarmed face.
Ciel clutched his chest and turned his back to the woman, hurrying through the hallway connecting the second and third chamber and then blindly taking a sharp turn into a previously unnoticed room. He pressed back against the wall and sunk to the ground. How much longer would he have to stay down in that miserable place? He wasn't even inside of a cell and he felt trapped. Once the affects of the adrenaline rush had worn off, his head rolled up to view his surroundings.
Sharp instruments—instruments made for torture—hung on the walls or rested on the stone countertops that acted as a border around the room. Ciel's eyes grew in size and he stood to his feet to properly examine them. Ciel had seen some of these instruments before in his village. Ciel's nose wrinkled in revulsion and his head shook back and forth. Perhaps it was beneficial that he'd been forced down to that dungeon. Now he knew everything that went on in the castle, both good and bad.
An unexpected arm was placed on Ciel's shoulder and another over his mouth. Instinctively, Ciel went to strike the unfamiliar person, but he abstained when he realized who it was.
"Exploring are we?" the rather amused-sounding man spoke into the teen's ear with a quiet cackle.
"Yes," Ciel admitted without missing a beat as if he'd been expecting to be caught (he'd have been surprised had old woman's howling not woken the sleeping guard). If he lied to the prison guard, he could easily be thrown into a cell to rot. He pushed the hands away from him and turned to face the man. "But not on my own free will."
"Hnn, I figured as much. Someone as pretty as you doesn't belong in a place like this, after all."
Ciel decided it was best to ignore the male's irritating comment. "Alois Trancy locked me in here. I came down in search of something to break through the door at the top of the stairs."
"Ahh well you have definitely come to the right place." The man outstretched his arms, gesturing to the heavy-looking torture instruments that surrounded them.
Ciel glared up at the untrustworthy man. His long, white hair shielded his eyes so that all you could see was a glimpse of his nose and his ever-grinning mouth. He was dressed in a flowing black cloak and the nails on those bony fingers were long and oddly painted black.
"Will you help me?"
There was a moment of silence between the both of them and Ciel could feel himself grimace when still, the male's twisted grin remained. He had a feeling he wasn't going to be set free so easily.
"Of course I will."
It happened much too fast for Ciel to process. The next thing he knew, the man had a firm grasp on his arm again and he was being dragged out of the room and back into the very first chamber.
"What do you think you're doing? Let me go!" Ciel tried to anchor his feet to the ground, but it only allowed the older male to drag him across the floor with ease. It was practically no use; the man was obviously much bigger and more powerful than him.
"If you truly belong in this castle—if you're truly wanted here—we'll see if anybody comes to your rescue, won't we?" With that, the door to Ciel's new confinement was slammed shut and the lock was clicked shut by a jagged key. The white-haired man ambled away, laughing loudly.
"Let me out! I've done nothing wrong!" Ciel continued to fuss, his hands clutching the bars of his cell and attempting to shake them out of place. The man guffawed one last time, swinging his keys around with his finger, before he disappeared down the corridor.
Several minutes of trying to find a way to escape passed, and when it appeared the man would not return, Ciel sunk to the floor of his filthy jail cell. The distant echo of the screeching woman still ringed his ears, and he winced when he realized just what must have been happening in that cell.
Damn Alois. If it weren't for that blond imp's senseless jealousy, Ciel wouldn't be in this mess. But that led the boy to a realization; something that he should have recognized sooner. If King Sebastian hadn't shown favoritism, he wouldn't be there. Although Ciel didn't know Sebastian very well, he knew he wasn't dense. The young king would not outwardly express his favorites for no reason. He knew some kind of drama would arise from it. He knew something like this would happen to his so-called favorites...
Ciel laughed bitterly to himself. It there was no way to escape the castle, he would much rather rot in the dungeon. With a sigh, the 14-year-old curled his body into a ball and waited. After all, what else was there to do besides wait?
Though there were no windows, Ciel could tell by the desperate way that sleep tried to steal him away that the sun had long ago set. The boy had been forced to sit the day away in that ghastly place without lunch or dinner. The only liquid he'd had since breakfast was the earth-flavored water that dripped from the ceiling and he'd been forced to use the bathroom with no privacy whatsoever.
"Don't sleep too soundly tonight, boy," the silver-haired man chuckled darkly. "Or else the rats will eat you alive."
Ciel pretended not to be fazed by those words. By then, his hope of being released had begun to plummet. Perhaps this was exactly what the king had planned. Maybe he should have been expecting this. After all, what was he? Back in his village he was a worker, a beloved son, a friend, a human being. Here in the castle he was to be a pretty plaything; an object, not a person.
The thought of living in his smelly village house again caused tears to well in his eyes, but as always, he held back. His forehead rested on top of his knees and his tired eyes closed, prepared for the restless night of sleep ahead of him.
