And thus the trilogy ends. Seriously, I should just stop torturing these guys or something...
Un-beta'ed, so quibble away.
- o – o -
Iwazaru: Speak No Evil
Danny sits in the cell under Independence Hall, saying nothing. He stares at the wall, lost in his own thoughts.
He knows the truth of things. He knows that Miles, the uncle he never met, is just as much a prisoner as he is. He knows his sister, Charlie, is courted by a young soldier of the Militia—Major Neville's son, the man's only child. He knows that his mother works day and night to bring the power back, has given up the location of an amplifier that will grant Monroe the power to bring the world to its knees.
The teen says nothing. This is his price for the truths he spoke.
He kneels on the stone floor, hands twisting in the hem of his shirt as night falls outside. Danny will say nothing, can say nothing. The teen has paid the price for the truths he spoke, the words he wove with his silver tongue. He spoke the truth, and used it as a weapon. But now, there is no one to tell and no one to fight.
Danny knows the truth of the Monroe Republic. He knows that it was built by three friends—one is broken, one is a prisoner, and one tries to hold them together. Danny will say nothing.
Before he was abducted, Danny would have proclaimed the truth for anyone who cared to listen to his words. That was his power. He had the ability to bring people to new heights with a few well-chosen words, or to cut them down with the cruelest blows and never have to touch them. He could coax a truth or a lie of his own making out of anyone.
But that's changed.
General Monroe isn't one for a truth of any kind. He isn't one to listen to a silver tongue that is not his own, especially not a boy with a silver tongue who speaks in truths and uses words as a sword that never loses its edge. Danny speaks nothing of the evil he has witnessed. There is no one to tell.
The general who was once his uncle came to his cell, once, in the company of several guards. That was the last time Danny spoke with words that cut deeper than swords or knives or arrows. He remembers the taste of blood, but has no way to describe it anymore. He can feel the cuts on his cheeks where the knife slipped as Miles cut his tongue away.
Danny knows he could describe his wounds with the ability to make people see him as some sort of phoenix, or perhaps an angel. He could make himself a martyr. He could convince someone to lead a rebellion, or to surrender everything to the soldiers of the republic.
Once.
Once, he could have done that. But now he speaks nothing, not even the thoughts in his own mind. This is the price he pays for speaking the truth, for daring to speak against President Monroe. This is the price he pays for being someone who always spoke in truths, never lies or half-truths, but the truth.
Danny hears rumors of his sister. He collects the information and learns the truth by reading between the lines of what he's heard. He knows the truth, and can tell no one of the evil he knows of. There is no one to listen to him.
He would tell his uncle the truth of the nights he spends in his cell, when the man comes to visit, but his uncle never looks at him. Danny has paper and a pen, and he could write the truth. Instead, he learns to lie. He writes fantasies for his uncle—he lies, and lies, and lies about how he's being treated. There is no one to listen to the truth, not anymore. So he lies and comforts his uncle's conscience by telling Miles that he has a room and food, and his guards treat him well, and the lies come easier now that he no longer has a way to speak.
The teen paces restlessly around his cell, sometimes, waiting for the first unwanted visitor to come. Sometimes it's Strausser. The man knows how to cause pain without bruising, where to leave marks so no one will see. In another lifetime, Danny is sure he could have convinced the man to kill himself with a few well-placed words of a truth he would only give the man half of. In this one, he collects the truth and hides it away. He will speak no evil.
Sometimes, drunken thugs—the enlisted men of the Monroe Militia—come to his cell. They pat him on the head and tell him he's a good boy, like he's some kind of dog, after they finish. They use him however they want. Danny fights back, but he grows weaker every day—there is only one meal a day, a bowl of thin, watery gruel. Danny tells no one the truth of his existence. His uncle never questions the lies Danny writes for him.
Only Charlie would see the truth of things. But he never sees her, and cannot let her know.
There is one other who would see the truth of things, but the man never comes. Danny closes his eyes every night after the worst of the guards leaves, and imagines Major Neville coming through the door.
Major Neville would speak a truth, a gentle one, as he cleaned Danny up, redressed the boy with the tattered remnants of clothing from the floor. He would speak a well-worded half-truth to General Monroe to claim ownership of the youngest Matheson sibling. Danny would recover, and he would speak the truth as best he could for the man. He would make Major Neville powerful.
But that's only a fantasy he creates for himself. Major Neville probably thinks he's dead. That is the truth of the situation. Uncle Miles will never disobey a rule that President Monroe sets for him, to protect his family. Charlie will never see him, because their captor doesn't want her to see. And Danny will never speak the truth, because he has no one to tell, and no way to tell them.
This is the price of the truth.
He still clings to his truths, utters them as best he can in the safety of his own mind, and waits for the door to his cell to open to let another lie walk through the door.
This is his price.
He will keep the truth.
He will say nothing.
- o – o -
So, what did you think? Good? Bad? Think Danny should have some happiness at some point? Drop a line and let me know!
Author's note: FOHL will go live on Sunday. *crosses fingers*