Ensnared

Betrayed

Renée awoke in a dark dank place. The absence of light opened her senses to the stale air with long over dried soil. Even the roots in the ceiling were decaying. A small amount of light filtered in from the edges of the door enough for her to see manacles hanging on the wall. The stack of hay she sat on in the corner kept poking into her legs. She still wore the dress she had on when running through the woods. Things were still a little hazy and she tried to remember just what happened. She was at the faery revelry and then…she saw Castiel. Castiel chased her through the woods. But something was off about him. His eyes were dull, void of life. Someone knocked her out and now here she was apparently underground in a prison of some sort. She didn’t know how long she had been out for either. 

Footsteps sounded outside the wooden door and stopped. Is it Castiel? No, his footsteps are heavier than that, she thought to herself. He wore boots. These footsteps must be bare for the padding sound they made. She saw a shadow pass under the door as they seemed to walk on. She breathed a deep shaky breath knowing that as soon as that door opened she would be in trouble. Well more than she was now. She wanted to go check the door but hesitated at the still audible footsteps on the other side. Renée did not even know where she was, so even if the door were unlocked she wouldn’t know what to do. But she had to try, all that training had to account for something. But if it was indeed Castiel then it would not take long for him to incapacitate her and throw her back in. Fear gripped her lungs in an iron grip making it hard to breath.  Her vision grew black.
...
Renée must have passed out because she woke with a start to the sound of the door scraping against the floor as it opened. The bright light outside of the door blinded her so she could only see the outline of the person blocking some of the light. They looked really familiar but she couldn’t be sure who it was. Rather than talking, they walked to her and grabbed her arms behind her back forcing her up and out of the room. They shoved her arms up to the extent that she had to almost lean forward just to keep them from hurting. 

“I am not going anywhere, could you please lay off my arms before you break them?” she shouted at the person manhandling her.

“Shut-up, keep walking.” She knew that voice. Her heart thundered in her ears at the sound of it. In her efforts to turn around to look at him she twisted her deltoid causing her to scream out in pain as adrenaline rushed through her veins. Keeping her head down and her mouth shut she let him lead her to wherever they were going. It felt like she was walking through a mole’s home. The halls were arched in dirt as dried out as the room she awoke in. The decaying roots were probably the only thing holding them up. She briefly wondered how often they had cave-ins. 

As they walked on she observed a few arched doorways leading into different rooms much like her own. Either they house plenty of prisoners or their accommodations were grim. They finally came out to a wider hall and she spotted Fae walking by. They were all haggard in appearance. She knew then she was in the Unseelie court. The Seelie queen would never allow anyone under her rule to look so ghastly. Granted not all faeries were pretty, but never once had she seen a faery that looked as if they hadn’t eaten in days. 

They finally came to a stop in front of two large elaborate wooden doors. They were decorated in a heinous scene of faery torture. Depictions of small sprits’ wings being ripped off by an ogre were carved into the wood. He had one in between each finger ripping them off one by one as blood dripped down his monstrous hand. Sirens luring men from their wives and beastly trolls attacking and biting every living thing around them like little cannibals. The whole thing sent shivers of fear all through her. 

On the other side of the doors she saw the throne room. Mabh, the queen of the Unseelie court, occupied a throne of thorns perched on a dais. Her hair looked darker than night, onyx colored eyes and chalk white skin. Just as Renée remembered her from her visions of her past life as Calla. Mabh’s wings looked like a mixture between a faery’s and a moth’s. Though she held elegance in her posture, her face resembled nothing but stern hatefulness. If this woman had ever cracked a smile of happiness in her life she sure did not have any signs of it. Not wanting to show how much the depictions of the door had rattled her, she held her head high and focused on a spot on the wall in defiance. She refused to let this woman, in all her malevolence, intimidate her. The memories of the torture and murder of her own son Rye flashed through Renée’s mind strengthening her resolve. If this woman was able to cruelly torture and murder her own son, her only heir, what hope did Renée have? Only a miracle could save her from whatever Mabh had planned for her.