He turned his back on her, climbing the stairs as he sat back down on his throne, not sparing a glance at her gaping face.
This was not the outcome she expected, but she meant what she said, she would not sit quietly and watch this barbaric scene.
Heart pounding out of her chest, she didn't hear a word that Jeremy was saying on her long, excruciating walk 30 feet below the main castle floor to the dungeon, extending across a number of different rooms.
Mutely, she still said nothing as he opened the iron door, enclosing her in the dank, bitter room.
Trembling, her knees buckled as soon as she stood in the middle of the room. Dropping down to the cold ground, she didn't dare look around to see what mysteries lied deep within. She had never even laid eyes on the dungeon of her own castle, assuming there was one, but she heard enough ghost stories to know the horrors that took place here. The torture and blood that was spilled in dungeons not unlike the one she was trapped in now.
If the torture weren't the cause of death, being confined to a suffocating place like this would've surely killed even the happiest of men. The stone walls squashed any screams threatening to spill out of a victim's mouth as the iron bars on the doors sucked the life from their very soul, killing them slowly. A most painful way to die, and one that Charlie did not want to experience any time soon, or anytime for that matter.
Placing her hand over her bleeding forearm, she inhaled deep, calming breaths as she suppressed the sobs wracking her body.
Time did not exist her as she waited for her captive to release her from this punishment or kill her one, either would have been acceptable. There was no telling how long she stayed bent in a prayer position with her arms in her lap, cradling the now dried wound.
Eventually though she heard the sound of the iron door, creaking open as the sound ricocheted throughout the entire room.
"Let me see your arm."
That's it. She waited hours in silence and solitude and the first voice she heard was his curt command. What had she done to make the heavens curse her so?
Not bothering to answer him or listen, she sat still with her hands glued to her lap until he pried them apart and brought her injured arm closer to him.
She was about to wrench her arm away and demand he leave but as soon as she opened her mouth she let out a whimper, feeling the sting of cleansing alcohol on her cut.
"Next time, don't be a martyr."
Snapping her eyes up, a fire burned brightly in her eyes, "since when do you care about my safety? You're the one who ordered the guards to throw me in this godforsaken place. How about next time you have some compassion."
His hand clamped down tighter as he got more frustrated, "one: I did not ask them to throw you, I told them to escort you. If anyone laid a hand on you and physically threw you in here tell me now so that I can take care of them personally. Two: compassion makes for a weak king. There are rules in place that have to be followed, and someone has to make the tough decisions. And three," he loosened his grip, placing two fingers under her chin to look at her directly in the eyes, "I've always cared about your safety Charlotte."
Locking eyes with her, he snapped out of the trance going back to the task as she scrunched her face up in pain, "maybe you should care more about your own safety and not throw yourself in from of sharp objects."
She looked up to offer him a piece of her mind when he pulled the cloth tighter around her arm and tied it in a knot. He wasn't looking at her, instead he was bent on one knee and paying special attention to her cut, running his fingers along the length of the cloth as he hummed, the melodic sound lulling Charlie into a sleep.
Her head lolled back, sending a panic through Bass' body as he shook her petite body, "Charlotte? Charlie…dammit Charlie."
Huffing, he cradled the back of her head with one arm as he swooped down and placed his other arm under the bend of her knees, picking her up. Jeremy went to take her from Bass, but he just shook his head, "I've got her. Next time pay a bit more attention to the princess and ensure that she isn't suffering from blood loss. I'd rather her no die before my son has the chance to marry her."
Truthfully he didn't give a damn about his son at the moment, he'd rather she didn't die at all. He was less than pleased with Jeremy, who could tell, but he was angrier with himself as he carried a woozy Charlie to discard her onto her bed.
Brushing back some locks of hair that had fallen in front of her face, his fingers lingered on her face. She possessed such a level of bravery that some of his own knights didn't possess. A sort of bravery mixed with stupidity and carelessness he had seen before, only in a less feminine version: Miles. It was in that moment Bass could see the qualities Charlie inherited from Miles. Always the first to run into battle with a bleeding heart and sympathy for everyone, which always ended with him getting hurt.
Averting his eyes back to Jeremy, a stern look passed over his face as he walked by him, "alert me as soon as she has awoken."
Jeremy nodded as Bass retired to his room. He wanted to bring Charlie to his quarters so that he may keep a better eye on her, but judging by the look of disgust she gave him before he had her sent to the dungeon, he doubted that choice would work in his favor. He didn't want to be that evil, malicious, and cruel ruler everyone dubbed him as, but there were times when he knew he had to remain firm in his decision. There had to be holes in a ship to allow it to take on water, similarly, he had to have a weakness in order to be defeated and he was not going to let his subjects find out that Achilles' heel.
Jolting out of bed, Bass' heart thumped loudly against his chest when Jeremy came knocking in the dead of night, granted Bass had directed him to do as much.
"Thank you Jeremy," peeling the heavy layers of blanket off him, he shoved on the wool socks laid out on the ground by his feet and continued on his path towards Charlie's room.
Relieved, he found her sitting up against the headboard of the bed, "would you like something to eat Charlotte? You lost a chunk of blood, I imagine that eating would make you feel better."
With her arms firmly crossed over her chest, all she did was stare blankly at him, refusing to answer his question. Instead she went a different route, "what happened to the boy? Did you chop his hand off?"
Not fazed by her at all, he addressed Jeremy, telling him to send food up to her room, enough to suffice until morning.
"I asked you a question," she all but shouted after he closed the door on Jeremy.
Rubbing at his temples trying to ease the already forming headache of being in a room with her for more than two minutes, he sighed, "please lower your voice Charlotte, it's the middle of the night."
"I don't care, I demand an answer," she stubbornly replied.
Bass was doing all he could to remain in control and not let his temper get the best of him, "I am your King and you would do well to remember that. Your demands mean nothing to me."
"Or what? You're going to throw me in the dungeon again if I speak out of line? Some king you are. My father would never—"
Cutting her off, his temper flared, "you have no idea what your father is capable of or the things he has done. He and I are cut from the same fabric."
Bass' cold, cruel tone always reared its ugly head whenever anyone talked about how good of a king Miles was, as though his previous years allotted for nothing. The guilt and blame, always laid at Bass' feet, was something he accepted for awhile until he realized Miles' hands were just as bloody as his.
She reeled in the shock from his statement and chose to ignore the jab at her father, knowing he wanted to get a rise out of her. It was all lies he was saying, her father could be tough, but never cruel. Never a killer like him.
"Where's the Queen?"
She blurted out the inquiry so suddenly that she didn't have time to think about it before she said it. The accusatory tone was not lost on Bass who, for a moment, was stunned by what she was insinuating.
She hadn't meant for it to come out like that. She already wondered previously after he Queen's presence but never got a chance to ask. Now was certainly not that time.
He slowly stalked closer to her, his voice dropping, but still held the intensity, "I would tread very carefully Charlotte. If you think before I showed no mercy, try my patience. You won't like what the outcome is."
Truthfully his display with the young child before brought about the question of the Queen. Charlie kept thinking in her mind, if he showed no leniency to an innocent little boy, she couldn't imagine how he would treat others. Not even his own wife would be exempt from that list, and he obviously had no quarrels with reprimanding a woman and throwing her in a dreary dungeon.
Still, the sorrow behind his eyes told her he felt a level of guilt for the role he played in her death, whether directly or not, Charlie had no idea.
"I'm sorry," she said it so softly that she wasn't sure he heard with his back turned to her. As soon as he stood taller she knew he had, "I didn't mean it to come across as though I was accusing you of a crime, I was merely asking."
He said nothing, back still facing her, "she died not long after Connor was born. If that's all, I think I've done enough talking for one night. Jeremy should arrive soon with something for you to eat."
Skulking towards the door she called out again, "I'm sorry."
This time he did turn around, "yes I'm aware, you've made your apologies known once before Charlotte."
She shook her head, "no not about that, although I am sorry," she added hastily, "I'm sorry you lost her."
Though they didn't exchange many words, none were needed to convey the amount of grief she felt for him at that moment. She still thought him to be a cruel king with no level of compassion towards his people, but that didn't mean he was a monster that didn't deserve sympathy for the loss of a loved one.
Curiously he just looked at her as though trying to read her until he suddenly spun around and left, shutting the door softly behind him.
He said nothing to Jeremy as he passed by him on the way back to his own chambers, hoping to sleep off the wretched day.
Charlie however couldn't sleep, and not because she had been asleep for hours, but because of the lingering look she was left with. This man was an enigma. From what she could tell about him he was also honest, a brutal type of honest, which meant that what he said about her father, must've been true.
The uncertainty gnawed at her chest, pushing her body past the brink of exhaustion as she fell asleep for the second time that day.