In Chains, Unmasked.
501 Words
The dungeon of Valerius was not a pit of filth but a cold, efficient fortress beneath the royal keep. Torches flickered along stone walls. Guards patrolled with military precision.
Seraphina was bound in iron, seated behind reinforced bars. Her armor had been taken. Her hair — now braided to keep from tangling — framed a face carved from stubborn fire.
She expected torture.
She expected interrogation.
She expected humiliation.
What she did not expect was Prince Adrien entering her cell block alone, carrying a tray of food like an apologetic suitor.
He dismissed the guards.
Seraphina hissed, “If you’ve come to gloat, make it quick.”
Adrien set the tray down outside her cell and knelt, bringing his face to her level.
“I’ve come,” he said softly, “to ask your name.”
She glared.
“You know who I am. The Crimson Hawk.”
He shook his head.
“I know what you are. A warlord. A warrior. A myth.”
His eyes softened. “But who are you beneath the mask?”
Seraphina’s jaw tightened.
“I owe you nothing.”
He nodded, accepting her silence without pressure.
Patience was a weapon he wielded as deftly as his sword.
“You will be treated with respect,” he said, rising. “You have my word.”
“Your word means nothing to me.”
“It will,” he answered, and left her burning with fury.
The Days That Followed
He visited daily.
Never with chains, threats, or knives.
Always with food, conversation, and maddening calm.
Sometimes he asked about strategy or philosophy.
Sometimes he spoke of trivial things — the shape of clouds, the sound of rain, the scent of the sea.
She tried to refuse.
She tried to hate him.
Hatred was her inheritance, her armor.
But he was persistent.
And patient.
And devastatingly kind in ways she had never witnessed in wartime.
The Moment Everything Shifted
Two weeks into her captivity, Adrien brought a cloak to ward off the dungeon chill.
When he draped it around her shoulders, she flinched — not from fear, but from a startling awareness of him.
His proximity.
His warmth.
His scent — cedar, steel, and something wild.
He froze, eyes meeting hers.
Their breaths mingled.
And in that moment, something inside Seraphina cracked — a fissure running through a century of hatred.
Adrien swallowed.
“Tell me your name,” he whispered, not as a prince, but as a man undone.
She closed her eyes.
“Seraphina.”
His breath hitched.
“A name worthy of a legend.”
Something heated pooled low in her stomach — unwanted, dangerous, undeniable.
She shoved him away. “Do not speak to me like that.”
Adrien stepped back, but his eyes glowed.
“I can’t help it.”
Seraphina hated how her heart betrayed her — beating too fast, too loud.
For reasons she couldn’t understand, he was drawing her into orbit.
And she was helpless to stop it
- Writer
