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The last cigar.

She once even enjoyed being called a bitch by one of the court members (she heard them whisper behind her back, risking severe punishment for such treachery, but still she heard and simply smiled to herself). People envious and hateful of her would reminded her of how special she was; the most important person in the kingdom. But here, she had no freedom. She didn't even have anyone to love OR to hate her. No one, period. Never in her life had she experienced this.

And even though she was captured only a few weeks ago, she considered herself a much changed person. She realized everything that she took for granted and was probably not the most compassionate person. There was plenty of time for the princess to think in this tower, especially knowing her life was in jeopardy and she was facing a very serious situation -- possibly even death.

But her father would pay the ransom; it wasn't a question of that. The question was would the kidnapper or kidnappers let her go? Would they kill her once they received their payment? The thought of that was agony. Swearing to become a different person if her knight came to rescue her, she only hoped for a second chance. She could only hope that a band of the king's knights were on the way to save her as she did not believe the man in black would spare her life. With any luck, maybe they would find him and hunt him down -- bring him swift and severe justice.

Her heart began to race. He would be here within minutes but it felt like an eternity. She turned her eyes back to the door, transfixing her gaze upon it. Wondering who was coming for her. Would she soon taste freedom and run away with her rescuer, or would she suffer a cruel fate at the hands of the stranger in black? Waiting was pure torture.

Still staring at the door, the princess started to think back to when she was first thrown into the tower, and how she was furious and angry. She pounded her fists on the man in black, but her fists bounced off his muscly frame. He had hardly said a word to her, but his eyes seemed to penetrate her own and his smirk held her back from her full ferocity (no one had ever looked at her like that before, especially with such confidence and dominance -- such power). She stopped hitting him. It was almost as if he melted her and broke her will; she still tried to stare him down and appear upset with him, but it was mostly an act. She didn't know what to feel with him. Shortly after he put her into the room, he left, leaving her all alone.

When he left through that large wooden door, her anger returned. She must have spent hours immediately afterwards pounding away on the door, trying to get out and yelling curses at him, but no one came back for her. Exhausted, pounding her last, she gave up.

It was almost at that exact moment that her anger started to turn into a wariness -- even a slight panic. She finally turned around to look at her room, helpless to do anything else. Her room was beautiful, even though she didn't notice it at first. To her it resembled a cold and dark dungeon. All alone, in her dungeon cell, was how she felt.

Her only contact with the outside was a tray of food that had been prepared for her and slid through a small slit underneath the door. Three times a day at exactly the same time; it was the only way she could tell the time of day. And even though it wasn't up to her princess standards, it really was a wonderful meal every time, freshly prepared. She couldn't tell who slid it under, and never seemed to hear anyone approach the door until the loud scraping sound of the slit opening jolted her out of her quiet thoughts and back into reality.

As the days passed, she grew lonely. She had so much time to think. About how she acted in the past, about who she was, and about what would happen to her in the future -- if she would even be blessed with a future.

The strange thing was, only yesterday when the slit under the door opened it was off schedule.

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