Enoch bolted out of bed, a scream caught in his throat. Gasped for breath. Drenched in sweat. Again, the nightmare: Dank smell of dungeon. Clank of chains. Leg irons. Rats. It had haunted him for years. He hadn't had the nightmare for almost three months, but tonight it struck again. It had been almost thirty years since he escaped that hell. Still it was with him every day.

Questions of why he trusted the woman he had just met often crossed his mind. He was a prince, and had many suitors lined up for him since his return home. Still he had not touched a woman, nor allowed one to touch him. The company of other men did not please him in the slightest.

He had been a prisoner of war for eight months. In that time he was beaten and tortured daily. In hopes that he would tell the secrets of his kingdom. He had been a child at the time, he knew not of any secrets. He was beaten for withholding secrets. His fingernails pulled out when he made up secrets. The first time he tried to escape his leg was broken. It never healed correctly and he still walks with a limp all these years later.

He'd be haunted until his death. The pain would remain with him. He would never be able to shake it. For now he splashes some water on his face and stares out into the night. For now the moon would give him some level of calm.