All right! So recently, I've really been getting into the Amnesia games, specifically Amnesia: The Dark Descent. I had bought the game some time ago, but didn't finish it because I was too scared. XD But recently, I decided to pick it up again, and after finishing it a few weeks ago, I have to say that I think it's a great game! Dark, disturbing, and scary, but definitely worth giving another chance. I'm glad I did, because the atmosphere and story are very intriguing.
So, this is my first Amnesia fanfiction, and I got the idea for it from reading the Loading screens, watching the flashbacks, and reading Daniel's journal about everything he was involved in before the events of the game. This story also marks another milestone for me: my first fanfic that's M-rated. There's nothing really explicit in this (though there are references to torture), but I've rated it M just to be safe.
Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy this, and let me know what you think! :)
DISCLAIMER: Everything (except for the name of Daniel's father) belongs to Frictional Games.
WARNING: There are spoilers from The Dark Descent throughout this story.
August 13th, 1839…
Another restless night in Brennenberg.
Daniel gasped as his eyes snapped open, taking deep breaths as he looked around frantically. He was safe now. He wasn't being chased by any Shadows or being trapped in eternal darkness. It was just a dream, but only for now. Eventually, it would become reality unless he continued to try and do something about it.
Lighting a candle on the nightstand next to him, Daniel stretched his arms and threw the covers off himself, getting up and crossing over to the window, where he drew the curtains aside to peer outside. The forest lay below him, and in the distance, he could have sworn he saw something moving through the trees. He chalked it up to just being the wind, though deep down inside, he knew it was probably the silent force that had been stalking him ever since he had come back from Algeria.
Alexander had not come to check on him like he usually did whenever he was having a nightmare, so Daniel figured his friend was probably tied up elsewhere in the castle. Instead, he resorted to just staring out the window, something he liked to do from time to time to clear his mind. Here, he didn't have to think about the Shadow, everyone it had killed because of him, or the punishments he dolled out to the prisoners in the dungeons.
On this particular night, however, Daniel found that he couldn't stop thinking about them. Or Alexander. He remembered how much kindness the Baron had shown him on one of his first nights in Brennenburg, when he had been having a particularly horrifying nightmare. The older man had woken him up, offered him tea, and then invited him to sit in the parlor with him until he calmed down. It was one of the first times Alexander had promised the young archaeologist that he would help him escape from the Shadow once and for all, and although it took him a little while, Daniel had eventually warmed up to the Baron.
And to hear all the prisoners shamelessly attempt to discredit Alexander's words made him sick to the stomach. Who do they think they are? He thought angrily to himself, They don't know him. They have no right to question him when they are the wicked ones.
Daniel loosened his fist, realizing he had been clenching it pretty tightly as he remained perched on the window sill, staring at the moon as he silently repeated that last phrase to himself like a mantra.
They are the wicked ones.
There was no denying that constantly telling himself that left a cold feeling in his gut that he couldn't explain at first. It had been days since he felt anything at all: ever since he began his daily routine of torturing the prisoners, he had learned to numb himself to their hysterical pleas for mercy and their sobbing over how innocent they were. It had been difficult at first, but at Alexander's urging and his own desire to save his life, Daniel had learned that it was easier to do his job if he wasn't affected by the constant crying and screaming. He closed his eyes as he had a flashback to a session from earlier in the day involving a man Alexander had branded as an arsonist…
"Let me go, you brute!" the man cried as one of the mysterious servants dragged him into the low lit room with a Judas Cradle in the center.
"The Cradle is ready," Daniel announced as Alexander soon followed suit.
"Good," the Baron replied as he grabbed the man by the arm to secure him in the contraption in front of them. As Daniel went to take his place, the prisoner stared frantically at him, his eyes wide and fearful as he continued to plead with his tormentors.
"You!" he sobbed, "You're a man! How can you partake in this?"
Daniel refused to look at him, instead turning towards Alexander as he asked, "Is he all right?"
"He is one of the wicked," the Baron said, waving a hand dismissively and speaking as if the poor man wasn't even in the room, "Don't pay his lies any attention."
"I'm not a bad man!" the prisoner insisted, "It was an accident!"
"He set a man on fire," Alexander explained to Daniel, who looked horrified that someone could do something so evil.
"It wasn't my fault!" the man being accused screamed a little louder this time, "Why won't anyone listen?"
"That's horrible!" Daniel snapped, glaring at the defenseless man as his friend's words sank in.
"Of course," Alexander agreed, "We're dealing with monsters here."
Daniel shook his head as he returned to the present, doing his best to block out the man's repeated attempts to prove his innocence. Alexander's word was like God's now; whatever the Baron told him, he instantly accepted it without question, especially when it came to the prisoners. To him, the whole situation was black and white with no grey area in between.
And that was when a memory he thought he had buried a long time ago resurfaced, forcing him to go back into his past even though he didn't want to.
Daniel closed his eyes again as he suddenly pictured his childhood home in Mayfair, as well as the day his father, Isaac, had given him one of the worst beatings in his life. It was the day he had finally stood up to the class bully, Henry Bedloe, and struck him in the head with a rock after everyone else cheered him on. In that moment, he couldn't believe he had actually managed to hit someone else, but it didn't help his case later when his parents found out.
Daniel remembered being kicked in the stomach, falling to the kitchen floor as he tried to suppress his tears. "You are wicked, Daniel!" his father had shouted at him almost the entire time, refusing to listen to his son's insistence that even though he knew it wasn't right to hit someone else, he was only defending himself and was completely innocent in this case. There was never any reasoning with Isaac, though: the man had too much anger in him to listen to anyone else's point of view and only believed what he wanted to.
The archaeologist managed to block out the rest of the punishment from his memory, except for the last part: when his father had forced him into the basement and locked the door behind him, leaving Daniel in the pitch black for hours. The young boy had cried as he massaged his arms and legs, which stung after being struck with a belt, and the tears eventually gave way to panic as he stumbled around in an attempt to find a light source. It was where his crippling fear of the dark had originated, and something he didn't wish to revisit if he could help it.
Still, there were those phrases that invaded his mind and left their mark: They are the wicked ones. You are wicked, Daniel.
Daniel shuddered at the realization that everything he said to the prisoners sounded exactly like his father: cold, cruel, and unyielding. The type of person he had promised himself he would never turn into, for his sake as well as his sister, Hazel's. He remembered Henry Bedloe's mother was also abusive, and because of the way he had been treated at home, he himself ended up turning into a bully.
And when Daniel really thought about it, was he all that different from the ones who used to torment him? All he and Hazel had known growing up was anger, violence, and abuse. Had he unintentionally become a product of his past environment?
These questions were ones that ended up plaguing him all night as he pulled the curtains closed again, climbed back into bed, and blew out the candle.
The next morning, Daniel decided to skip breakfast as he immediately made his way to the Nave, and to the cell that contained the arsonist from the previous day. While he reached for the key to unlock the door, he blinked some sleep out of his eyes as he tried not to nod off. As usual, the nightmares wouldn't go away, even getting worse over time, but he couldn't think about that right now.
Daniel threw the door open, startling the man on the floor as he was just beginning to come around. "Get up!" he ordered, grabbing the prisoner by his arm and practically dragging him out of the cell. The arsonist was still in a daze, but for Daniel, it made his job a lot easier. The less alert the prisoner was, the less chance he had to put up any kind of resistance.
The two of them crossed over to the Transept, where Alexander patiently waited for him along with a couple of his servants. Just like the previous day, they were going back to the room with the Judas Cradle, seeing how effective it had been and how much Vitae they had obtained from this session alone.
As soon as Daniel opened the door, the man stopped, his eyes widening as he took in the contraption in front of him. Because of the Amnesia Potion he had been forced to drink at the end of the day yesterday, he did not remember that he had already become acquainted with the Cradle. "What?" he stammered, "What is that thing? What are you going to do to me?"
"Make you sit on it," was all Daniel said, "It's what we do to people who are arsonists." He subtly nodded to a picture on the opposite wall, and when the man followed his gaze, he gasped in horror as he realized it was a drawing of what would happen if someone sat on the Cradle.
"No!" he cried as Daniel and Alexander proceeded to strap him in, "No, please! I'll do anything! Whatever you want!"
Daniel and Alexander ignored him, silently sealing the clamps as they pulled on a few ropes to lift him up. The whole time, the man cried, praying that perhaps his tormentors would somehow see reason and not go through with this heinous act.
"Anything!" he sobbed, "I'll do anything! I'm innocent!"
At those last words, Daniel paused, his hands resting on the ropes as he glanced up at the person they were about to put through another round of hell. He could see how upset the prisoner was, and for a brief second, the archaeologist wondered if maybe this man was actually telling the truth. Maybe he never really set anyone on fire, or if he did, maybe it was truly an accident. People often made mistakes, right?
"Daniel?" Alexander asked him, sensing the younger man's hesitation, "Are you all right?"
Daniel didn't answer right away, still lost in thought as he reflected on the questions he had asked himself last night: was he any better than the people who had made his childhood miserable? Could he claim to be innocent just like the man accused of arson was?
Yes, he thought fiercely to himself, Because I'm not like Henry Bedloe or my father. I'm not wicked like they were. I'm only doing what I have to in order to save myself and stop the Shadow. These people are the worst sort, and they deserve everything they're getting. I can't be a monster for wanting them to see that.
"I'm fine," Daniel answered with a firm nod, "I'm ready now."
And with that, another round of torture began, the last of the old Daniel-mild-mannered, kind, curious, and maybe a little naïve-disappearing as the man above the Cradle began to scream.