[@Belle]

Dagon turned his head at the two ogres, the first two different faces he had seen in who knows how long. He couldn't stop his eyes from widening, like ever-enduring Odysseus must have felt after finally reaching his Ithica, it was as if a mountain had been lifted off his shoulders, though curiosity and apprehension soon followed in quick succession. He'd endured his punishment, but what awaited him now at the hands of his Queen?

He stood up on his own power, slowly but steadily. He looked at the ogres with his icy blue eyes, his voice raspy and the words almost sounding unfamiliar from lack of use, but spoke he did: 

[b]". . . Then I stand ready to see her."[/b] 

The ogres escorted him out of his cell, the two Goblin jailors were packing up their gambling games, he knew that they had used such games to kill the endless shifts watching him in between sessions, though now relived of their duty, they were also leaving the dungeon for now. The two looked at him, their expressions not betraying the Queen's intentions anymore than the ogres, Dagon wagered it was a coin toss, either she finally had decided to kill him since she'd found a suitable replacement as the Winter Knight, or she wasn't. Either way, he'd find out shortly.

Though the Winter Court was certainly not the brightest place in Faerie, its main chambers certainly looked a lot brighter than its dungeons. He felt had almost forgotten what the natural vistas of light were and how the court looked above, but as he kept walking, he grew more confident in his familiarity. Many things in the Fae world were timeless, and the Winter Court was no exception. 

The ogres kept a brisk pace, leading him through the winding geometry of corridors to take the long way to where he guessed he would be meeting his Queen, her bed chambers. Very few Fae of any significant rank ever set foot in that room, and most were stopped at the door to relay messages or await orders. But Dagon had awakened there so long ago, knowing that he had been a Knight on the mortal plane during a time of great strife was all he could remember of any time before, and that had been told to him by his Queen who gave him his new name and made him more than human. 

She had granted him oblivion for whatever his past had been, and power beyond mortal reckoning, and in return he had failed her. He had cursed the ancient and malignant sword which had tempted him, but he blamed himself even more. He'd been the one who was too weak to resist [i]Sioc[/i]'s influence, the sword had merely behaved as it normally did around weak and potential vessels for its ancient spirit.   

But enough remembrance of the past, what was done could not be undone, and the present was what mattered now. So he cleared his mind as the ogres stopped before the chamber doors. One knocked twice and slowly opening the door, presented the still bloodied and ragged Winter Knight to his leige. Dagon's eyes widened slightly and felt his breath be taken away, for Arys had dressed exactly as she had so long ago, the first clear image in his head after the impenetrable haze his earlier memories. She had taken his breath away then just as she did now, and he suddenly felt incredibly embarrassed that the ogres had not seen fit to even allow to make himself decent or at least more presentable.

He had hardly even noticed [i]Sioc[/i] yet, bound in ice beside her, but he refused to give it any attention yet. 

He looked Arys straight in the eyes and mustered his best voice in his current state, his hands clasped in front of him, managing to keep the cracks out of his voice this time, though it still sounded parched.

[b]"You summoned me, your grace?"[/b]