he roughly threw you onto the cold, stone floor of the dungeon and locked your cage with his key, giving you a cold, restrained look, as if you were not his sister at all, but a courtyard wench

he never told you why he was punishing you, all that was left of the former bright Maagar was the cold shell of a deadly monster

you looked at your brother, grabbing the bars with thin fingers, and he, in turn, squatted down and cupped your face with his palm, stroking your tear-stained cheek with his thumb and calmly showing his dominant position