The Frog Prince and the Witch Chapter 1
Hey y’alls, picking this story up bc it’s no longer available on NU. Trying to get a minimum of 6 chapters out every week.
Translated by MissQ (ko-fi)
Chapter 1: The Crazed Woman
The dark, damp basement lay in oppressive silence, disturbed only by the occasional clank of metal as chains rattled whenever the lone prisoner shifted in discomfort. Each movement sent a discordant echo through the air as his shackled hands and feet strained against their restraints.
Devoid of windows, the prison was plunged into perpetual darkness. Ian had long lost track of time; he couldn't recall how many days—or nights—had passed since he’d been locked away.
The only light he ever saw came with the arrival of the mad woman. She brought with her the flicker of a burning torch, casting faint warmth into the suffocating blackness. But that warmth was always followed by torment. Every time her cruel visits broke the stillness, Ian knew pain would follow, as certain as night follows day.
He did not know how much longer he could withstand this. His grip on sanity had begun to fray. Each time the warm light accompanied her abuse, he feared he was inching closer to an unsettling belief, that perhaps “happiness” was found in her cruelty.
If that twisted thought became his reality, he would utterly lose himself.
But he couldn’t think of a way to escape—not just because he was imprisoned and bound, but because that woman seemed to be a witch. There was no other explanation for how he had ended up here. No enemy had approached him that night, and there had been no strange scents in the air, no suspicious food consumed. Yet somehow, he had lost consciousness in the hidden woods and awoke in this dungeon.
The sound of footsteps echoed in the distance, growing louder with each step. The faint glow of light gradually intensified as it neared.
The iron gate creaked open, and a cloaked woman entered. She placed a torch on the wall before shutting the door behind her. The face beneath her hood was filled with crazed fascination as she gazed at him.
Suddenly, without warning, the woman threw herself into his arms, her hands roaming freely over him. Ian recoiled in disgust, his skin crawling at her touch.
She wasn’t ugly at all. In fact, she was strikingly beautiful, with hair as golden as the morning sun. Yet, from the day they met, Ian had felt nothing for her, and now all he could muster was revulsion.
“Ian… Prince Ian… Oh, I miss you so much!” she exclaimed, clinging tightly to him, fully aware that he couldn’t resist her embrace. “Your Highness, do you love me?”
Ian remained silent. He refused to speak to this irrational woman, only breaking his silence when his hunger left him too weak and he needed food.
“Your Highness…” she continued, her voice dripping with coaxing sweetness, but her words failed to elicit any response. Frustration flared in her eyes, and in a sudden fit of rage, she raked her nails across his face.
“You bastard!” she spat, her voice sharp with anger.
After countless visits where she toyed with him, Ian had reached his limit. He refused to open his mouth, holding fast to his stubborn silence. In the beginning, he had tried reasoning with her, suggesting that though they weren’t suited to be lovers, they could still be friends. He had even offered to introduce her to someone else. But the woman only seemed to hear what she wanted. She would either ignore him completely or, when angered, lash out by tying him to a pole—just as she had done now.
She tightened the chains that bound him to the rod, her eyes flashing with frustration. From her waist, she drew a whip and, without hesitation, brought it down on him. Each lash stung sharply as she struck him over and over, her voice rising with fury.
“Why? Tell me why! What’s wrong with me? Why don’t you like me?!”
“Am I not pretty enough? Look at me, I’m a sight to behold! I’m the most beautiful girl in the kingdom!” she declared. At first, the prince was baffled by her claim; he knew for certain there were many girls in the kingdom who were far more attractive than her. But then a dark thought crept in—if those women had all been dealt with by this madwoman, perhaps she would indeed be the last beauty left. If her powers in witchcraft continued to grow, it wasn’t inconceivable that she could become the most beautiful woman not only in the kingdom but across the continent.
“Am I not noble enough? Am I not worthy of you?” she cried. True, she was the Duke’s daughter, and by rank alone, she had every right to stand beside him. But all Ian could see now was a madwoman. When he had rejected her in the past, he hadn’t known of her madness. Now that he did, it was even more impossible for him to feel anything for her.
“Won’t you love me? Your Highness, why can’t you love me?” she asked, her voice desperate. She brought the whip down on him again, the strikes harder than before. Then, in a sudden shift, she flung herself onto him, sobbing.
“Your Highness, as long as you love me, I’ll set you free! We can live happily together… Your Highness, my prince!” she pleaded, her voice cracking under the weight of her delusion.
No matter how many times the whip struck him, Ian refused to cry out. He wouldn’t even offer a single word in response to her desperate questioning. He wouldn’t indulge her, not even with a half-hearted remark.
‘Why doesn’t his heart have room for me? Why?’ she agonized. After a few more futile lashings, the woman grabbed her torch and left, tears streaking her face.
Ian waited patiently. As expected, a servant soon entered the prison to clean up the aftermath.
Ian suspected the man was blind, for he never brought a torch with him. Yet, the servant moved about with ease, quietly tidying the cell and tending to Ian’s wounds with practiced care.
Once a day, the man would feed him—though the food was hardly appetizing, it was enough to keep Ian alive.
When Ian first arrived, he had counted each meal, trying to keep track of how long he’d been imprisoned. But now, the days had blurred together, and he could no longer recall how many meals had passed.
Once the servant finished his task, he departed without a word. The dark prison returned to its familiar state—silent and desolate, enveloping Ian in solitude once more.
