Corview

Regan had found time to visit the dungeons at least once a week since she’d been at Corview, sometimes more. She hadn’t been since her brother-in-law had captured another prisoner and demanded that she stay away, but she really couldn’t help herself. She knew that the men that were being held captive were lonely, and she didn’t have the heart to leave them down there by themselves. Sometimes she brought books for them, or writing utensils so that they could get a message out to their families; she knew that oftentimes her sister’s husband locked up these men out of anger, with no actual proof of any crime committed, and she wanted to be sure that they were able to let their family know the truth. This day, she had brought a thick book about Angus Mac Og; she’d been teaching one of the men to read and write after she’d learned that he didn’t know how, and hence couldn’t write to his family about his whereabouts. She wasn’t prejudiced to the individuals down here, and didn’t ask or care for why they had been locked away; she treated them all the same. As she descended the steps into the dungeon she was singing a sweet tune, her high feminine voice perfect for such actions;


She only got through the first verse by the time she was in the dungeons, and as she stepped off of the stairs her voice would quiet, her eyes dancing up and down the cells as she tried to figure out where the new prisoner would be. “Oh, Angus, pray tell me where the poor man might be,” she would whisper softly; she’d also brought writing utensils for the new man so that he might write to his family as well. Shortly after speaking she grinned as she heard a gruff voice, “I’m not your God, girl, but the new man is down on the corner.” She would move to the door she’d heard the voice from, peering through a small “window” that had been left at the top of the door, “Thank you, Brett,” she would murmur warmly before dancing down towards the cell that he’d indicated. She heard a couple of gruff hellos, though she knew that the majority of the men would wait to speak until she actually went to them. When she finally reach the corner she would rap softly on the door, “Hello?” she would call through, though she didn’t let her gaze settle on the “window” just yet; she knew that some of the men undressed or whatnot, and she wanted to give the man his privacy if he so wished.

When she heard the man within call that he was decent she would smile lightly, setting the items that she had brought on the ground before letting her gaze fall on the window, though didn't help sate her curiosity about him, if anything it made it worse; she saw a tall man with a hood pulled over his face. She was surprised that he'd been allowed to keep it; she knew that oftentimes the prisoners were stripped of everything except their basic clothing, her brother-in-law giving the reason that not only did they not need it, but they'd probably stolen it anyways.

When she heard him speak she'd smile, "Well, aren't you going to show me your smile then?" she'd ask, her tone playful. Upon hearing him introduce himself she'd nod slightly, "I'm Regan McElrath, it's a pleasure to meet you," she'd say kindly before stooping to pick up the writing utensils and such, "I've brought you things so that you can write to your family, if you can. To tell them that you're here and not dead," she would explain, offering the items through the window that she was speaking to him through. "If you can't I'd be willing to write for you, or teach you so that you can write it yourself," she'd tack on, having realized that some individuals didn't know how of which few wanted to learn; others thought it would be a waste of time.

She would smile when he pulled the hood off of his head and apologized, “It’s quite alright,” she would murmur, though her brows would rise slightly as he messed with his hair. It looked wild, even more unruly than her mother’s fiery locks despite his hair being black and appearing not at all curly; more like mismanaged. He was tall and lean, lightly muscled with an angular face and eyes the color of steel. She couldn’t help but think that if there was any man that looked like the trickster god, this would be him. When he said that the pleasure was his she’d shake her head, “I’m afraid that isn’t true. There’s no way that you would have met me had you not been locked away, and that’s not pleasing at all,” she’d laugh. She had said the same what seemed like a thousand times on introduction to the prisoners here, so the response didn’t surprise her anymore. She figured it was just something that people had to say if they wanted to be polite, and everybody wanted to be polite to the person that was helping them…if only a small bit.

When he thanked her and then laughed she would tilt her head, her brows furrowing together in confusion as she wondered what might be amusing, though when he spoke she suddenly understood. It was unfortunate, though she learned that saying that she was sorry didn’t help, and it was hardly accepted, “Well, I’m sure he’ll be happy not to have to see your ugly face when he receives a letter…though he might be disgruntled to learn that the letter is in fact from you,” she’d tease, her blue eyes twinkling with amusement. She’d also learned that the men down her preferred humor, and she had to agree with them. It was much better than depression or anything like that. She would wait until he’d finished spewing questions, “Doubtful. The only person that will be in trouble here is my brother-in-law, and maybe not even then,” she would say with a shrug. “My father will support him, if only to preserve his daughter’s name, and people dislike messing with my father. He’s respectful to everybody, a kind man that most people like. And besides, most of the Dukes around the four kingdoms owe him one thing or another,” she’d finish with a shrug.

When he asked if she had a passion for teaching she would shrug her shoulders, a smile tweaking up the corners of her lips as she watches him slide down to sit against the door. “I’m not sure, I haven’t had reason to teach anybody but the few men who don’t know how to read or write. And even then I haven’t been at it for very long,” she would explain. So, she would have no idea if she liked to teach or not. After a moment or two of just standing there she would shrug slightly, “Well, let me know when you’re finished and I’ll come back to fetch your letter,” she would say before moving away, bringing the book down to the man who she’d been trying to teach; the same man who had directed her down to Teague.

When he said that it looked like he was doomed here for the rest of his life she would laugh, “Nay, I’m going to write to my father. Or maybe ride out and visit,” she’d say, a smirk developing on her face, “And then you’ll have to go to pageants and marry a woman with a pretty face,” she would remark, laughter spilling from her lips. She knew that if her father heard about this that he would put an end to it, though she honestly wasn’t sure when or if she would be able to get word to him. Her only free time was spent down here, and that was only for a couple of hours at the most; the rest was spent helping with the baby or whatever else needed to be done. He didn’t know that though, and she figured it would give him at least a shred of hope.

She spent awhile with the man she was teaching; it was a struggle but she felt as if he had come a long ways. He hadn’t even known the alphabet before they started, and now he was recognizing not only the different letters but their sounds and such as well. To be honest she was quite proud of not only the man but herself as well. Once she finished she would offer the man a smile and congratulations on his development before moving away, only to hear Teague calling her. She would smile and shake her head slightly before dancing back down towards him, her brows lifting slightly, “Are you done already?” she would ask with a tip of her head. Usually the men spent a while deliberating over what to tell their relatives, and took almost the whole time she visited for them to figure it out and be done writing the letter.

But, he didn’t seem like most of the men that were down here. Many of them she knew were low born; peasants and the like, but she’d heard him say that his brother was a Duke. She wondered what could have caused him to be thrown down here, but she’d heard talk that Edan had sentenced him here in a fit of rage. Nobody knew what it was over, though it wasn’t very surprising to anybody. He had a wild temper, though it had never been directed at her…to which he should be grateful. She knew that if he did and her father heard about it that her father would have his head.

When he handed off the note she would smile, tucking it under the cover of her book, lingering to listen to him talk about his horse. She almost felt worse for the horse; she knew that animals often had separation anxiety, though horses were more likely to develop depression when separated from their owners. “I wouldn’t worry about my brother trying to ride her, or anything. She’ll most likely be set out to pasture or stay in her stall. Though, I am willing to look out for her,” she would say, biting at her bottom lip. She wouldn’t know if it would get her in trouble or not, but now that she said that she would she wouldn’t go back on it. “I’ll make sure she’s looked after and try to befriend her and whatnot. I’ll see about getting her back to your brother’s estate if I can’t convince my father to investigate what’s going on here,” she would continue with a shrug.

She had to resist asking him why he was down here, though she knew that she couldn’t. It was a rule she had given herself before she’d ever stepped into the dungeons; she wouldn’t be prejudice towards the prisoners and therefore she couldn’t ask why they were here. She only hoped that he hadn’t done whatever her brother accused him of, or else she would look like a complete fool in front of her family. Not that she could really go back on her word to try to help get him out, either, as she’d already said she would. Sometimes she really though she should just hold her tongue.

When he tried to come up with an adjective for her she’d laugh softly, “I don’t need you to praise me,” she would say, lifting her brows a bit, “And I am no Angel…Angels don’t even exist,” she would say with a smirk. She’d read what they called the Bible before, and had even listened to a clergyman preach, but she couldn’t give up her devotion to Angus Mac Og and the other gods of the Old Religion. It was absolutely blasphemous, and she couldn’t believe that anybody would buy into Christianity. But they had, she would keep her mouth shut about it for the most part, “Though, if you must I suppose ‘friend’ is better than anything,” she would shrug.

“Well, I am going to go finish my rounds, and then I’ll go see to your horse,” she would say with a grin, “I’ll try to visit after, if I can. I might be stuck helping calm the baby, though,” she would explain. It seemed that the child was colicky or something, and her walking the halls and singing to her was the only thing that helped at times. “Oh, and I’ll get your letter sent off,” she would say with a laugh, tapping the cover of her book before moving to do exactly what she had said she was going to.


She’d done what she told him she would; she’d gotten the letter sent off with a Knight that was headed for the East, and she had went out to visit with Teague’s horse. She seemed rather skittish, so Regan decided she wouldn’t push her luck and merely sat with the creature, talking soothingly to her and promising that she’d look out for her. She wasn’t sure if it had worked, but the animal seemed to be at least a little more calm by the time she’d left. She’d been headed down about an hour ago, when her brother-in-law caught her slipping down the hallway towards the dungeons. It hadn’t ended very well; they’d argued and…well. Let’s leave it at that.

Now, a few hours after that she was headed back down, with anger and confusion dancing around in her chest. She’d never argued with anybody before, and thinking about it caused her cheek to smart where a red blotch had appeared, a faint bruise developing over the mark, though she would push the thought aside. There was no use thinking about it, just like there was no use for the argument in the first place. He should have known that she wouldn’t stay away from the dungeons, though she figured he must not know she was stubborn? Oh well, he would learn one way or another. And besides, she had promised to see if she could return, and the baby hadn’t been fussy like the past several days so she figured she might as well.

A low sigh would tumble from her lips as she descends the steps, the singing from earlier forgotten with the day’s trials. She would visit the rest of the men before Teague, though, letting herself calm and be reminded that she was the only person at fault for disobeying the Duke’s orders. Finally, when she arrived in front of his door she would stand a few feet away and cast her gaze towards the floor, away from the window though it was still rather light outside; her first visit had been earlier this morning so she figured it must be close to noon, or a bit after by now, “Well, your letter has been sent off. And your horse seems to be doing fine…kind of skittish but that’s to be expected,” she would say, her voice kind as her lips curve up in a friendly smile.

She couldn’t help but look up when she heard his voice, her blue eyes twinkling with amusement, as she steps closer to the door. She’d been trying to hide the angry red mark before, but she’d forgotten about it by now and a grin had spread out over her face, “Well, I’m sure I can arrange something,” she would laugh. She probably wouldn’t be able to get an actual tub, but a wet washcloth and a change of clothes shouldn’t be too hard. At least she didn’t think it would be, but then again she’d also thought that visiting the dungeons wouldn’t be that hard either, and turns out it had been. When he thanked her she would shrug, “It’s the least I can do. It’s not like you can take care of her yourself,” she would murmur, “My brother-in-law doesn’t like to think about the consequences of his actions,” she comments. She was talking about more than just locking random people up, but let’s not go there.

When he said that the horse liked carrots and apples more than she should she would laugh, “Well, I’ll have to give it a try. I was just trying to let her get used to my presence today. I didn’t want to push her or anything,” she explained, leaning her shoulder against the door as she peers into the window. Upon hearing his comment about it being boring down here she would laugh, “Well, it’s much better than being up there,” she would say with a shake of her head, “Though, I might be able to find you a book or something, if you like to read,” she’d offer, “Or…something. I don’t know what else you could do down here,” she would admit.