Trigger warnings: mentions of violent injuries, mentions of past abuse
The carriage rumbled and clattered over uneven roads, jostling its weary passenger. Her pen skidded at a sharp angle over the journal page, leaving a long, ugly streak across the words she had already written. She winced and placed the pen carefully in its case, blowing on the page to dry the ink. The mark did little to worsen the already muddled page. What was one more scribble mark amongst so much confusion?
She sighed and glanced back over her writing. It was nothing like her usual neat and tidy journaling. Jumbled thoughts leading to nothing, lines connecting points to other points with scribbled notations of what they could mean together, random phrases and snippets of thoughts… and a few doodles of the sources of her confusion—her husband and the boy.
One of the drawings of Varian was as she remembered him that day, that enraged expression that masked so much fear—stars, had she really been the only one to see how scared he truly was? She'd been terrified herself, but even she'd had enough presence of mind to see it. Perhaps anger was better at clouding one's eyes than fear, which would explain why she saw it but neither her husband or daughter did. When his voice cracked, when his mask of anger slipped for a second… How long had he been alone like that? So alone and afraid and hurting? Even in her drawing, she couldn't seem to escape that look of fear, hiding in those big eyes despite the way they narrowed as he glared…
He was too young to be in that situation, all alone and turning to crime to try to survive and save his father. Why, the child didn't look to be more than thirteen or fourteen at most!
"How old is he?" She'd asked Fred on the way home from the fight.
He'd wrapped her up in his strong arms. "Never fear, love. He'll never hurt you again."
It wasn't the answer to the question, not at all. But she'd been so dazed from the recent happenings and proud of her daughter and sad over the thought that she had to go away that she'd chosen to let the topic rest. She hadn't even realized then that Fred's words were untrue. Varian had indeed hurt her again. Not physically, of course; he never had. Even when he kidnapped her, he'd used his sleeping dust to knock her unconscious, and he'd only kept a chain around her ankle. Sure, he'd threatened to encase her with the same chemical that had encased his father, Quirin, but it was in a desperate attempt to make Rapunzel help—a rather intelligent attempt, she had to admit. By threatening the same fate upon her, he made sure that Rapunzel would have no choice but to find the answer.
No, even with his threats, he'd never hurt her physically. Her pain came from seeing him like that, she thought, as her gaze fell upon another image of young Varian. The way he had looked the day the stranger had spirited him away. She'd drawn this, hoping it would take the image out from behind her eyelids, where it danced every time she closed her eyes. It hadn't. She still saw it. The ugly red, black, and white scars that crisscrossed that childish face, the way his brows lowered and his nose wrinkled with what had probably been excruciating pain, the pale skin that looked to be stretched over nothing more than a skeleton.
That… that had hurt her, pierced her to her very soul, torn her heart in two and trodden it underfoot. It still hurt all these months later, just that one glimpse of him.
No, more than that glimpse. Her pain flared when she thought that all of this might have been caused by the very man she'd fallen so completely in love with, that the king who promised peace and justice had delivered neither to an orphan child. That, worse, he had let vengeance cloud his judgement and taken out his anger on Varian.
And perhaps it wasn't just him.
She ran her finger over one of the other names listed on the current page. Lady Caine. The thought of the woman invading the palace and trying to get revenge for her father still burned in Arianna's memory. She had been wrong, of course, but she had attributed her actions to anger at losing her father to the unjust dealings of the king. Arianna hadn't wanted to believe it was true, of course. So she'd put it from her mind. But now, in light of what had happened with Varian, her name had arisen once more and found its way onto Arianna's page. She didn't know if they were connected. But two cases of a lost or deceased father, a young criminal bent on forcing the deeds done in shadows into the light, an arrest that led to nothing but silence afterwards… It was strangely coincidental.
The wheels of the carriage jolted as they left the rutted dirt paths that comprised the roads to and from the villages and rolled onto the smoothed cobblestone of the capital city. How long had the infrastructure in the lands surrounding the capital been that bad? And why had she failed to notice?
Golden and purple flags flew by her windows as they traveled on. People stopped on the streets to wave and cheer. A darling blue-eyed child caught her attention, hyper and gap-toothed with patches in his shirt. A pang shot through her heart again as she watched him jump in a puddle. He grinned as the carriage passed close to where he was, slowing to turn the corner; and for a moment that stretched into an eternity, his eyes met hers, and she saw not him but another blue-eyed boy who traveled far from Corona and yet dug his nails into her mind and held on tight.
Where was he now? Had he even survived after his escape? He'd looked mere seconds from death, laying in the arms of that stranger. Perhaps it was dangerous to allow a child—one of her subjects—to go off with a man who wasn't even from their country, a man who looked more than capable of snapping the boy in two with barely a bit of effort. A man who held a frightening gleam in his eyes, something dangerous and wild and unpredictable. But she couldn't imagine it being any less dangerous for him to stay here, where taking him to the infirmary meant he would be sent right back to where he started—and that was if he made it out if the room alive. There were still plenty of guards who wouldn't see a problem with making sure he didn't, she believed.
And if Fred found out…
She shuddered. Never before had she feared that her husband would hurt someone willingly, excluding things like war, but Varian was a child. Had he ever put his hands on him personally, or had he ordered his guards to do it? Had the Fred she'd wondered at but stayed silent about as he confined their freespirited daughter to the walls of Corona and then to her own room… had that been only a glimpse of the true him? Had he been this way the entire time?
Had she ever really known her husband at all?
Speaking of…
There he stood, his smile wide and eyes bright as he waited in the courtyard to meet her. He did this whenever she traveled; he always made sure to be the first face she saw upon returning. Normally the sight sent a thrill through her; her wonderful husband, the holder of her heart, the sign that she had truly returned home. It was home as soon as she saw his face.
This time was different.
She didn't feel the same happiness upon her return. Instead of the comforting walls of home, the portcullis above her head felt like the bars of a prison. Instead of love welling up in her heart for her husband, a growing dread was wrestling for dominance. Was the man in front of her the love of her life, the wise and gentle king who had captured her heart, or was he an… an abuser?
She didn't have time to ponder the question as her door was opened and she was lifted into his arms, the way she had been so many times before, and spun around. As his lips met hers, she was tempted to forget her worries and lose herself in his love… but how often had her decisions to let herself be lost, either to her grief in the past or her delusions of her perfect life now, cost her people?
"Welcome home, my love." Fred brushed a strand of hair out of her face as he set her down. Then he frowned. "Are you alright?"
"I'm fine, dear," she lied. "I'm just tired. I need to rest. I'll tell you all about my journey tomorrow. Oh, Willow sends her regards."
He escorted her to their room, and she allowed herself to lean on his arm as they walked. Then he left her alone to rest. As soon as he was gone, she collapsed face-first onto the bed.
She got no rest, however, as the servants knocked on the door. She quickly sat up and called for them to enter, and they started carrying in trunks and bags. One stopped when she saw the exhaustion written on his queen's face. "My apologies, Your Majesty. Do we need to return later?"
"No, no, you're fine. In fact, I believe I'll go to the library for now." Putting on her "queen face" emboldened her somewhat. Perhaps it was time to stop moping and twisting her mind in knots and actually set to work. "Please call the captain and tell him to meet me there; I have urgent business to discuss with him."
Once in the library, she continued to flip through her journal. This was the moment of truth. The words she said here could either open doors that she hadn't even realized until now were closed or convict her and sentence her to a life of constant watchfulness or even arrest if she played her cards wrong.
There's still time, her mind offered. Don't say anything. Do this by yourself.
The door opened, and the captain entered and stood at attention. "Your Majesty, I was told you wanted to see me?"
"Yes, Captain, thank you." She set her journal down on the couch beside her and folded her hands, summoning every bit of strength she possessed. "I wanted to speak to you about the boy, Varian."
A flicker of surprise crossed the man's guarded expression. Captain Bartholomew was not an unsteady figure; he tended to make up his mind quickly and hold to his decisions. So to see the wavering uncertainty in his eyes was surprising. "I assure you, Your Majesty, we still have patrols out looking for him, and our borders are being closely guarded. The traitor won't have a chance to get close to you or anyone else in your family." He rubbed the back of his neck. "I was surprised the king agreed to let you travel with your sister, though I suppose you were going in the opposite direction."
"Thank you for your diligence, Captain, but that's not what I mean."
"My queen? What is it you wished to discuss about the criminal?"
She took a deep breath. "I didn't call you here to discuss a dangerous criminal. I called you here to discuss the childVarian. More specifically, what happened to him in prison."
He frowned. "Your Majesty, don't assume that just because he's a child that he's not dangerous or criminal. He still did attempt to murder you."
"I'm well aware. I haven't forgotten what that felt like. But I worry that he has been thought of not as a child criminal but as merely a criminal." Cut it out and stop dancing, lady! Say what you want. When did you lose your spine? "Tell me, were you directly responsible for him in prison, or was he under the care and keeping of another?"
"He was under the responsibility of one of my lieutenants. I never interacted with the boy directly after his arrest, but I did read the daily reports that the lieutenant filed."
"And how much did the reports leave out, exactly, that you didn't think it was necessary to inform someone of the condition the child was in when I saw him?"
He blinked. "Your Majesty?"
"Varian was on the verge of death when the stranger took him. That's why I allowed them to leave. I've never seen a boy that beaten and bloody." Her gaze hardened into something furious. "So tell me what the reports said."
He appeared taken aback, his lips open in surprise. This was the first she'd admitted to knowing it was Varian she had seen that night. The first time she'd admitted to willingly letting him go. "They said nothing about any such thing. I don't wish to doubt Your Majesty's testimony, but are you certain of what you saw?"
"Absolutely." She watched his eyes. Something stirred in them, a stab of guilt behind the confusion. Perhaps he wasn't lying about not seeing Varian in prison, but something was bothering him. She considered softening her tone and asking politely, but that was better suited for getting information from dignitaries and nobles, not a battle-hardened captain. "Captain Bartholomew, I advise you to answer me honestly. You know more than you're telling me. Speak freely."
He hesitated, eyes averted. Just when she thought he'd refuse, he hung his head. "I don't know what happened to him in prison, but… I know what happened to him before. The king sent me and a few of my men in disguise to Old Corona to seek out Varian. Specifically, he wanted us to find and retrieve a graphtyc. We were either to get it and bring it to him or prevent Varian from getting it to the princess."
She bit back a gasp. Interrupting might make him lose focus.
"We… interrogated Varian. Repeatedly and harshly. He wasn't allowed to leave Old Corona and evacuate with the rest of the villagers. He kept his mouth shut for close to a month before the princess showed up and got the graphtyc. Varian disappeared, and the next time I saw him was when he was arrested."
Her lungs constricted, crying out for air that couldn't seem to pass her lips. She focused only on taking one breath, then the next. Once that was under control, she slowly reiterated, "You… beathim?"
He nodded, the guilt in his eyes surging forward to fill them, all confusion lost in the haze of memories of his misdeeds. "Yes, Your Majesty. My orders were to do whatever was necessary, including bringing harm to the boy; and while I rested in the idea that I was doing what I was told, I haven't felt at peace since then. I know my actions were disgusting and shameful. Varian was innocent when this all started. Perhaps… it was my own decisions that drove him to crime."
She couldn't move, only the slight tremor in her arms and shoulders distinguishing her from a statue. If what Captain Bartholomew said was true, then… her husband, the king, had sent soldiers after a child who hadn't done a thing wrong. He'd spent a month suffering unjustly. Because of Frederic. Why? Why would he do such a thing? How had his heart become that darkened—or had it always been that way and she had failed to notice?
She seemed to fail to notice a lot of things.
"Captain," she spoke quietly but firmly, "has anything like this ever happened before?"
"Not like this. We've performed covert missions before, but never against a child."
"And do you know of others who have been in Varian's position? People who have been hurt by the actions of my husband? People like Lady Caine?"
He nodded. "After the young princess's disappearance, we were ordered to react more harshly to crimes, even small ones. Once again it was something I told myself I had to do. I took no joy in it, but I'm ashamed to say I did it."
Ashamed, eh? She frowned and looked away, doubts creeping back into her mind. The captain seemed distressed about his part in all of this, but was it enough? Was it enough to trust him with the doubts and confusion that thundered in her heart and the realization of what she had to do that shoved its way to the forefront of her mind? What if she told him what she was thinking only for him to tell Fred, convinced that that was yet another thing that he "needed to do"?
"You can see why this concerns me. I need to speak with Nigel. Wait here for a moment." She crossed to the door and motioned to a passing servant, quickly passing on her order. Then she returned to where the man waited. "Captain, I've always trusted you, you know this. I've put my life and the lives of my people in your hands. You're a good man. I know you say you're ashamed of your actions, and I can believe that, but now I need you to prove it. Are you at all willing to atone for your mistakes, and are you willing to help me atone for mine?"
"Your mistakes?"
She nodded. "I've failed as a queen, as a leader, as a human being. I have to change that. If Nigel can confirm my fears, then… I can no longer sit back and watch. I have to intervene."
"What fears?"
She paced to the window, turning her back to the captain to hide the shaking of her hands. Below her, the capital city sprawled, happy people going about their daily lives and waving to one another. Did they know about what happened behind closed doors and in dark alleys? Which of them blindly put their faith in their leaders to protect and provide for them, living their lives in a cloud of ignorance, and which of them saw what happened to those who were disillusioned and chose to keep their silence instead?
"Our kingdom has a shadow over it," she murmured. "Our people have been blinded with flags and celebrations and smooth words from political leaders. Cruelty and corruption have been dressed in the skin of justice. And those of us who have a responsibility to help have sat back and done nothing. Some are even stoking the fires." Placing her fingertips on the window, she straightened her shoulders. "How can the citizens of Corona trust their leaders when this is the legacy we've left behind? And I've… I've done nothing to stop it. I don't have the power of the king, but I have power of my own that I've ignored in favor of letting him deal with everything. I haven't acted like a queen. I've let myself become nothing more than a decoration for the halls of this castle. The most I do is organize parties! As of today, I hope to change that. I intend to be the queen I should have been years ago."
The door opened, and Nigel joined them at the window, apparently having not been too far from the library. "Your Majesty," he intoned with a bow. "You called for me?"
She turned and nodded. "I have a few questions for you. Questions about Varian."
There it was, that same flicker of doubt and uncertainty that the captain had. "What do you wish to know?"
"Nigel, you've served my husband as his advisor for years faithfully. That includes keeping a record of all prisoner arrests and sentences. When was Varian's trial, and what was his official sentence?"
A slight thinning of his lips, an uncomfortable twitch in his eye. "His trial took place one week after his arrest, and his sentence was life in prison."
The captain spoke up. "Answer her questions honestly. Nothing said here will make its way to the king until Her Majesty decides the time is right."
She nodded gratefully. Perhaps he was on her side, then.
Nigel sighed. "What I can tell you could mean my head, Your Majesty. Can I rely on your protection?"
It was that bad, then. "Yes."
There it was, that same consuming guilt written across his face. "The boy received no trial. No legal representation. Nothing. His sentence was passed down directly from the king, and… and he had his citizenship removed so he couldn't seek legal recourse."
She put her hands over her mouth. Her stomach twisted into knots as bile rose in the back of her throat. She forced her trembling limbs under control and stiffened her spine. "Thank you for telling me," she spoke coldly. "Has this ever happened before?"
"Not to this extent, Your Majesty. But… there have been other incidents. Paperwork I've been asked to… modify. Reports that I've had to make disappear. Some orders that directly violate the law."
She looked between him and the captain, the distress and shame practically radiating off their bodies. How long had they been ordered to keep their silence, letting their actions brew underneath their skin like hidden sores? How long had they waited for a chance to come clean about their mistakes? And now they'd put their trust in her, knowing she could have them killed if she so chose, knowing she might be merely testing their submission to the king.
The three of them stood in silence for a moment, glancing at each other. Which of them would be the first to break, to say what had to be said, to put their lives in the hands of the other two? To risk the wrath of the king should someone else prove to be steadfastly loyal? To be merely a hidden ear of the king? They had answered her questions honestly, but was that because their guilt was eating away at them or because they were testing her?
She had begun this. It was only fitting that she end it. "The two of you have been most helpful. I think I know what needs to be done. I'll need you to stand with me. Nothing about this will be spoken yet, not until all the pieces are in place. Can I count on you to help? Will you support me, even if it means going against the king? Nigel, where do your loyalties lie? With the king, or with serving the kingdom? Captain, do you stand with orders that violate the law, or do you stand with the law and with justice?"
They looked at each other nervously. The captain was the first to respond, kneeling before her. "If you'll work to undo the damages I've been party to all these years, I'll support your endeavors. Whatever you choose to do. And maybe I can make amends for the harm I've brought to the people."
They both looked to Nigel. "We won't make you do anything," the queen assured him. "This isn't an easy decision."
Nigel twisted his mustache anxiously. "I've only ever wanted what was best for the kingdom. Placing myself under the authority of the king was the best way I saw fit. Perhaps I was wrong. And I'd like to make amends, as Captain Bartholomew says, but… I don't see how I can, given that might have played a hand in the boy's fall."
"Nigel?"
"I… I saw the boy attack Princess Rapunzel the day of the blizzard. I ordered the guards to remove him. I didn't care what they did with him. I didn't care that they threw him out into the storm. I simply wanted him away from the princess. If I had ordered them to place him in a cell or a room, I believe either we would have seen the evidence of his villainy sooner or even swayed him from his path before he began."
The captain stood. "As someone who actively brought harm to the boy, I can inform you that he wasn't intending to do anything wrong until he chose to steal the flower. He was desperate to save his father, and I think his attack on the princess was born of that desperation. I saw the way he pleaded to get to her. She seemed like she knew him from before, like they had been friends."
Nigel nodded. "That makes sense. When I mentioned the attack to the princess, she seemed surprised, as if she hadn't thought of it that way. Perhaps he didn't intend her harm. In which case, my actions are even more reprehensible." He sighed. "I believe that I will indeed stand with you."
Arianna nodded in gratitude. Then her brow furrowed in confusion. "Wait. Captain, what flower did Varian steal? And when?"
The two men shared another worried glance. "The Sundrop flower, Your Majesty. The boy broke into the palace and convinced Princess Rapunzel to help him steal it."
"The Sundrop… no, it was destroyed, wasn't it? When it saved my life and Rapunzel's life?"
Captain Bartholomew rubbed his neck. "No, my queen. It was placed in the vault under strict guard. Only a few people still knew. I don't know how the bo—how Varian found out about it."
Her lips parted. "It was… in the vault this whole time?" She nodded. Of course. Fred would never get rid of something like that. It was one more brushstroke in the hideous picture that had emerged from the rough sketches in her journal. "And Varian wanted it. To save his father?"
"We believe so, Your Majesty. Um… if I may ask, what is your plan, exactly? What do you need us to do?"
Arianna fought back a shudder. She was really doing this, eh? No backing down. Not again. "Here's what I have in mind…"
O‴O‴O‴
Varian hissed and bit his lip as Hector's fingertips flitted over his bruised skin, applying the medicine to his shoulders and arms. He lay facedown on his pallet, his bare skin discolored from bruises. The medicine felt like ice against his skin, soothing his aches and pains. He could barely move his arms at all.
"Well?" Adira demanded.
"Surprisingly not bad. Nothing torn. Just bruised. You're lucky, kiddo. That coulda messed you up good. But a week or so of recovery time, and you'll be good to start training again."
Varian turned his head aside, refusing to meet Hector's look.
The warrior sighed. Varian had been giving him the silent treatment for a few hours now, ever since their escape. Maybe it wasn't fair to his uncle, but he couldn't bring himself to care at the moment.
A week of recovery. Crap. That would make about two and a half weeks since he'd gotten a good workout in, that one night he'd had his memory erased not included. How long was it going to take him to build his strength back up? He missed working out. He missed that rush that flowed through his veins, the thrill he felt after a hard day's training. It was the best thing he had in substitution of—well, of alchemy. His love, his craving, his addiction.
His torment.
He gritted his teeth and shoved the thought from his mind. This was one of the reasons he applied himself so diligently to his training. It helped him forget for a time.
At least his injury wasn't as bad as it could have been. Given the times of day they'd been caught and had escaped and estimating how long they'd been unconscious, how long he'd been alone after Hector had left him, and how long he'd talked to the lady, he estimated he'd only been hanging by his wrists for about forty-five minutes to an hour. Longer than he'd ever done the few times they'd done that to him in prison. After his shoulders had been injured, he had probably only hung for another few minutes. He highly suspected that the lady had waited until Hector had left to get him down.
The mental exercise scratched an itch that constantly lingered in the back of his head, the urging to work through problems and get answers. It was fairly simple, a common math problem that a child could do, but it was good for now. In fact, maybe while he was recovering, he'd apply his mind to more complex problems. It wasn't that he never did them anymore, no; he crafted and solved equations in his head constantly. But the last week had been incredibly distracting. He needed a break.
Hector stood. "We're about out of food. Adira, can you hunt for us?"
She looked up from sharpening her knives. "Actually, I need to have a talk with Varian. In private. You hunt."
"I'm not leaving him here without me! You think I'm that type?"
"I think you both need some space to clear your heads. Varian won't be alone. I'm right here."
He groaned. "You good with that, Var? I'll be an hour at most."
Varian shrugged, wincing at the strain it caused.
"'Kay. Here, you gonna let me help you sit up?" He knelt next to Varian again. At the boy's curt nod, he gently slid his hands underneath him and helped him to a seated position, expertly wrapping bandages around his shoulders and arms to keep them still. Kiki flopped down behind the boy to let himself be used as a backrest. Varian clenched his jaw, the whole scene a painful reminder of the day they'd met. Back when Varian was convinced that Hector would run off and leave him at any moment.
The warrior's expression was pained. Apparently he'd had the same thought. "Wait here. I'll be back soon."
He left with Riki and Artemis, and Varian was left alone with his aunt, Ruddiger, Kiki, and Kubwa. Relatively pleasant company, all things considered. He closed his eyes and leaned back against the bearcat's rumbling side. "What did you want to talk about?"
"Hector."
He groaned. "Look, I get it. He left to try to help me. What else is there to say?"
She put her knives away and moved to sit next to him. Ruddiger, seemingly frustrated by the fact that his human couldn't pet him, purred and rubbed up against Adira's leg. She absentmindedly reached down to scratch his ears, moving her hand again just as quickly. He huffed and flopped down next to Varian, who gave him a sympathetic smile.
Adira fidgeted nervously, something Varian had never seen her do. "You've known Hector for… six months now? Seven?"
"Just over six, I think."
"I've known Hector since we were kids, and even if I have been a bit out of touch with him for the last twenty-five years, I know him well. Probably better than anyone. He hasn't changed all that much. He's still the same Hector I grew up with. And that's why I can tell you for a fact I know how he thinks of you. I know how much he loves you."
Varian rolled his eyes. "I know he loves me. That's not the problem. That doesn't change what he did." He bit his lip. "He promised me. He promised he wouldn't leave me. But he did. And I know he was trying to help me, but it hurts. How do I know he won't do it again?"
"Can I tell you a story?"
"What?"
She started plucking flowers, weaving them together as she spoke. "Did your dad ever show you a gold bracelet I gave him years ago?"
"No ma'am."
"Well, I gave him a bracelet for his fifteenth birthday. Not really his style; he's not a jewelry person. He likes things with sentimental value, though, and it was the only thing I could find. But it became important in ways we didn't expect. It was a reminder of the time we nearly lost Hector for good." She plucked a few more flowers and continued. "Hector was only… twelve? Thirteen? Whichever. But on Quirin's fifteenth birthday, I gave him that bracelet. We were traveling, and I'd picked it up in a marketplace. I didn't realize I'd been followed until someone grabbed me and dragged me into an alleyway. They stabbed me in the side, then they grabbed my bag and ran.
"It was Hector that found me. He patched me up while I told him what happened. When I told him I was robbed and that the thief had Quirin's gift, he ran off. I tried to call to him, but he didn't listen. I couldn't follow him, so I went back to find the others. Some of the adults went after him." The distant memories carved pained lines across her face. "They came back a few hours later, carrying him. I… I thought he was dead. He was so still, so pale… That scar across his nose? That's when he got that. He has worse ones, too, all across his back. The thief he'd chased had run straight back to the hideout he shared with the rest of his gang. They weren't happy that a twelve-year-old thought he could take them alone. And Hector was good, but… not that good. He nearly bled out before the adults found him, and he was unconscious for so long after that. They said he hovered on the edge of death for almost two weeks. The thieves had used poison blades, and if it weren't for the healers traveling with us, he wouldn't have lasted the first night."
She finished weaving the flowers together, holding up a small bracelet. "He didn't have to run off like that and go alone. It was stupid of him. It was probably the worst decision he could have made. But he wasn't thinking in that moment, because all he knew was that someone had hurt me and taken my stuff, and he didn't want them to get away with either. He went to face them alone because he loved me and didn't like seeing me upset. And that nearly got him killed."
Varian sighed, his small body shrinking even further with the action. "He never said."
"He doesn't ever. Varian, I'm not asking you to forgive him. I just want you to talk to him. Like I said, I know my brother better than anyone, and I know how badly he's hurting right now. Not as much as you, but he's torn up inside too."
He sniffed and tried to bring a hand up to brush his tears away, yelping slightly at the unsuccessful motion. Ruddiger clambered up onto Kiki's back and reached his paw out to help. Varian laughed weakly, then demanded, "Why did he have to promise? I trusted him! Why can't anyone ever keep a promise to me? No one can!" He pulled his knees close to his chest and rested his forehead on them. "I wish he wouldn't have said anything. At least then he wouldn't have broken a promise. He knows how bad that hurts me."
"You're right. He does. And seeing you hurt is killing him inside. That's why I think the two of you actually need to talk about this instead of letting it fester inside you. Both of you are just going to continue to hurt until you do. Talk to him and tell him how you feel."
He frowned. "Won't that hurt him worse, for me to tell him I'm mad?"
"I doubt it. He already knows. What hurts him right now is that you won't talk to him. And it's hurting you, too."
Varian shook his head fiercely. "No. Keeping the peace is easier when I don't lash out at people. Trust me, I did that once. If I had just kept my mouth shut and given up the scroll, if I'd just waited to see if they'd let me go after that, none of this would have happened! I wouldn't be like—like this!" He gestured to his scars. "And—and sure, maybe I wouldn't have met you or Uncle Hector, but maybe the Sundrop would have still thought I was useful and let me come with her so I could translate the scroll, and I could have met you anyway!"
"But you wouldn't have been free," Adira reminded him. "You would have been forced to stay silent about the things they did to you. You wouldn't have been able to tell the Sundrop of her father's crimes. Would you really prefer to live your life under the heels of tyrants? Would you have preferred to be a slave?" Her shoulders slumped. "I'm not saying what happened to you was a good thing. Not at all. I hold myself partly to blame for you getting hurt, you know that. But Hector's not them. He's not like the Sundrop or her father. You were never given a chance to speak before. They tried to keep you silent. That's why you lashed out to be heard. We're not going to do that. If you tell Hector why you're mad and hurt, he'll listen."
He wanted to believe her. He trusted Hector. But for the first time in months, he was starting to wonder if that was a good idea. He'd so willingly, so completely, placed his life in the hands of someone he'd only known for a few months. And Hector had seldom let him down, but had Varian idolized him to the point of being blind to his faults? Had he held expectations of him that the man couldn't live up to?
Maybe he had. Maybe he shouldn't have tried to rely so completely on him. It wasn't fair to the warrior to have to handle both his own burdens plus Varian's. Plus, if Adira was right, Hector made a habit of putting himself in danger to protect others. He didn't know if he'd be able to live with himself if his uncle got hurt trying to protect him.
For both their sakes, it would probably be better if he only relied on himself.
A bit of bad news, I'm afraid. I'll be putting this story on hiatus for a while. Once I return (and I don't have a date for when that will be, sorry), I won't be able to post on a relatively consistent schedule anymore. I'll get the new chapters posted as soon as I can. Thank you in advance for your patience.
And by the way, everyone is entitled to their own opinion on Nigel. I've read some very good stories with him as the villain. This is just the way I've chosen to portray him, and no one is obligated to share my views.
As always, constructive criticism is greatly appreciated. Thank you and God bless!