>>Ophelia
The cold, damp air of the dungeon wrapped around me like a heavy, suffocating blanket. The stone walls loomed around me, casting long shadows in the flickering torchlight. I sat on the narrow wooden bench in the corner of my cell, my back pressed against the icy wall, knees drawn to my chest. The chill of the stone seeped through the thin fabric of my dirty dress
The king, my father, had decreed my imprisonment, and I had no choice but to obey and so I sat there quietly.
Across the dungeon, in the adjacent cell, the noble ladies were anything but quiet. Their sharp voices echoed through the stone corridor. They huddled together, their pristine gowns were now wrinkled and soiled from days spent in the dungeon. The proud set of their shoulders and the fire in their eyes showed that their spirits were not yet broken, even if their situation did not look good.
I could see them all clearly and I could see the person standing in front of their cell with his arms folded.
