This is the start of what I hope will be a long-running Backstairs AU. The first chapter is a little questionable, but I'm planning on it getting better, and making more sense as it goes on!
Julian Blackthorn could taste two things. One was the metallic taste of his own blood, which was a sign of his never ending torture. The other was salt. Either from the walls around him, or his own tears, that he could not tell.
It had been over a year since he had been imprisoned after the uprising and invasion. For over a year had he been sitting in a damp cell, with a musty smell and no light. For over a year had he been abused for being born who he was.
He slumped lower against the wall, putting strain against the shackles in his wrists. It had been a year, and he didn't know how long he had left.
Julian remembered the last thing his older half-brother, Mark had said to him; Remember, Jules. It will be okay. I promise you, you'll be okay.
Mark had lied. He wasn't okay. And he wasn't sure if the rest of his family were okay, either. He hadn't heard anything about them in over a year.
For all he knew, they were all dead.
His father, Andrew, who had the kindest smile. Who always saw the best in people, no matter who they were.
His mother, Eleanor, who was nurturing and kind. Who had never said anything cruel to anyone.
His older half-sister, Helen, who had a heart of pure gold, and a brilliant smile on her face.
His older half-brother, Mark, who was more protective than anyone he had ever met, with a dry sense of humour and a sharp tongue that always managed to irritate people (even if Jules thought of him as his hero).
His younger sister Livia, who was fierce in protecting everyone around her, whose emotions were always hidden behind a steely face.
His younger brother, and Livia's twin, Tiberius, who's grey and calculating eyes could solve even the trickiest of problems.
It pained Julian to think of them all, but it had become a nightly routine. He wouldn't let himself forget them. He pushed himself to go on, to name them all.
There was Drusilla, whose kindness seemed overwhelming at times, but always did mean the best for everyone.
And Octavian, the youngest, who was so small, and innocent. It hurt to think that something might have happened to him, even though he had never done anything wrong.
All because they had been born into nobility. All because of who they were.
Julian exhaled more of the musty air in a sigh, which came out sounding more like a sob. He would have thought he was used to this life by now.
It was then that something took Julian by surprise. There was an unusual amount of noise coming from outside his small cell. He raised his head, in attempt to hear what was happening beyond the locked door. He heard shouts and cries.
And he was scared. He could feel himself shaking, worried about what was to come.
Who was out there? What did they want? What were they going to do?
A loud crash sounded from right outside Julian's eyes, and he felt himself gasp before holding his breath, not daring to let anybody hear him.
What if they were going to hurt him? What if they were bad people?
He shut his eyes, held his breath, and waited. And continued to wait, for what felt like forever.
Julian heard another crash from outside, and jumped, not expecting it. There was distinctive banging on his door, and Julian cowered against the back wall.
The noises continued, getting louder and louder. He could almost hear the door falling right off of its hinges.
The door creaked, and fell to the floor, and then a bright light entered the cell, some of the only light Julian had seen in years. It was blinding
All seemed to get hazy, then, and Julian could feel himself being pulled into darkness, right after he felt hands grabbing him.