Two days after his capture Darius arrives at the keep Lord Whitburn seems so proud of. A hulking structure plopped atop the Demacian hillsides. The roads up the hills are steep, and as the forest begins to thin as they march up he can see why the Lord of this province set up here. He can see the expansive fields below them that range for miles, farmland and forest alike. Beyond the forests he can see nestled between two cliffs in what must be Fort Ironwood. The walls that once kept invaders out were reduced to rubble and the Demacian flags replaced by the familiar crimson banners of Noxus. He can see they've been making advancements towards the Whitburn Keep, but the signs of battle seem to stop at the hill base. The machines can't easily traverse the height and the high ground gives Demacian archers and silverwing riders the advantage.
Darius's mind shifts to battle plans as he walks, what he would have been commanding his men to do if he were with them, but his focus is pulled away by Whitburn yammering about some lore of the Demacian land he cared little for.
"...and then when the traitorous Moorehearts were hoisted from the throne my family took over as the new Lords. And the land has seen prosperity ever since." Darius perks at hearing Eryn's surname. He mostly has tuned out Whitburn's history lessons. He cared not for it. Over these two days he hasn't spoken a word to the Demacian. Refusing to give him even a glance. Whitburn notices Darius's expression change and chuckles "I nearly forgot your little mage friend was one of their descendants wasn't she? Had she not told you her family's tragic tale?"
Darius had never cared to push further than what Eryn had elaborated on already. He knew her family once had been nobility of these lands and had been driven out. But family history had never interested him, he cared more for the present. Something about nobility has them obsessed with the actions of the dead.
Whitburn doesn't seem bothered by Darius's silence and is happy to prattle on about Demacian history. "Under the reign of Jarvan the Second, the kingdom had been dealing with mage insurgents causing mayhem across the kingdom. It was the last straw for the Demacian people and so magic practice was outlawed. The Moorehearts began secretly allowing them to reside in their land. My family, who have been mageseekers for generations, were tasked with disposing of the mages. The Moorehearts had their men fight back, so our family removed them from their keep, and the royal family bestowed the land to us for our family's loyalty. The Moorehearts were allowed to live, but lost everything. They were told if they were ever caught harboring mages again the seekers would not be so kind as to let their bloodline live." Whitburn explains as they approach the gates of the keep.
"How fitting to see that not only are they still harboring magic, within their own bloodline no less, but one of them once again betrayed Demacia to protect an enemy instead." Whitburn muses as his gaze turns back to Darius, observing his reaction. Darius keeps his face stony, but every fiber of him wants to lash out. But he knows it's futile, at least for now. Not that he hasn't tried.
After they left Eryn, shackled and alone in the woods, his anger was burning inside him. He made several escape attempts whenever they attempted to feed him, ending in a broken arm for one of Whitburn's men, which ended Darius's "food privileges." So he still hasn't eaten since before entering the caves with Eryn, and his body is starting to feel the effects. He feels weak, when just a few weeks ago he probably could have easily taken Whitburn and his men without breaking a sweat, even with his hands shackled.
Whitburn practically parades him through the keep as they walk through the stone halls. Any soldiers or servants they passed would straighten into salutes, all sending weary looks towards Darius, as they descend the stairs into the dungeons.
the dungeons They're a few floors below the main entrance to the keep when they finally lead Darius into a hallway lit only by torchlight. It's dark and damp in the cobblestone halls, as they lead Darius through the dungeon. He peers into the dark cells as he passes them, curious to see what company he had down here, but was surprised to see them empty. At least on this floor, he was completely alone.
The Demacians chain him to the wall of the cell, restricting his movement so that he could do nothing but sit on the floor, his arms being held up above his head by his wrists. "Hope you're comfortable there, Noxian. This is your life from now on." Whitburn taunts as the cell door slams shut.
Darius loses track of time in the dungeon very quickly. They bring him food maybe once a day, it's hard to tell, which he always rejects. They then will send someone down to question him a few times afterwards, whom he always ignores. Sometimes it's Whitburn, often it's another soldier who Darius doesn't care to learn the name of. He spends his alone time resting his head against the back of the cold cobblestone, lost in his thoughts. He replays everything from the moment he met Eryn until now, wondering what he should have done differently. The first point was obvious, not let the siblings capture him in the first place. He shouldn't have let his guard down no matter how meek the Demacian soldier had appeared in comparison.
The thought then dawns on him that he never would have gotten to know Eryn then, and his heart aches at that thought. None of their evenings together, that seem so long ago now, would have occured. He almost feels nostalgic for their initial arguments with each other. His mind drifts to their first night in the cave together, how for just a brief moment nothing mattered. How he could forget about war, about survival, about everything except for the two of them together. How beautiful she was beneath him. It's been so long since Darius has been able to feel like that with anyone. Someone he could feel he could let down his walls with, even the smallest bit.
His mind wanders, like it often does when he thinks of Eryn, to Quil. He wonders what she'd think if she could see him now. The thought causes him to chuckle to himself, realizing she'd probably see this as some sort of fitting karma for his past. She wanted him dead in the end after all.
He's been offered at least 3 meals, he isn't sure how many days that means he's been here, when he's awoken from his sleep from the feeling of the keep shaking. At first he thought it was under attack, but as he listens to the noises, it becomes clear it's the sound of thunder shaking the keep. The hope he had felt begin to bubble in his chest is quickly popped and he leans back against the dungeon walls in disappointment.
The thunder distracts him for a moment from the sound of footsteps approaching his cell, until he can hear someone clearing their throat to get his attention. His eyes flick forward to the cell door, and is surprised to see a familiar face there. Claudius Mooreheart. He's standing somewhat meekly at the door to his cell, wearing a clean blue tunic with the Demacian emblem embroidered on it. His right arm is bound with gauze and hung in a sling, and he leans on a crutch nestled under his left armpit.
"Hey." Claudius greets, wiggling his fingers in a feeble wave. Darius doesn't respond to him, eying him suspiciously. When he doesn't get much of a reaction Claudius sighs. "I'm supposed to be the last attempt of getting information out of you before they start torturing you. For some reason Whitburn thinks you'll talk to me. I already told him you hate my guts, he doesn't seem to believe me."
Claudius pulls up a stool that the other soldiers who have visited him have often sat in when they did their line of questioning. Darius watches him as he struggles a bit with the action due to his injuries, before eventually the stool scrapes into place and he relaxes into it. "Lord Whitburn barely told me anything you know. I didn't even know you were even here until yesterday. He 'doesn't know if he can trust me' but if it weren't for me he never would have found you."
He rambles on and Darius just has an eyebrow quirked in curiosity as he does. Claudius seems frustrated, desperate even. "So now they tell me it's my job to extract information from you, as a chance to prove I'm still loyal to Demacia." Claudius scoffs to himself and rolls his eyes. "Everything I've done has always been for Demacia. And it's left me with nothing. They stripped me of my rank. My sister is missing. And I might be arrested for treason if I can't convince a Noxian to offer up information to the detriment of his own people."
Darius watches as Claudius talks at him. There's something wild to his eyes. It seems he hasn't gotten a chance to vent about this to anyone, he probably feels alone here. It seems ironic that the only person Claudius feels he can confide in is Darius. "So I already know you. I tried to get you to talk to me for days, and you only would talk to Eryn. I know this is futile. So I'm not going to waste my breath on their list of questions I'm supposed to ask. There's only one thing I care about now." Claudius leans forward, his face nearly touching the bars of the cell. "What happened to Eryn?"
Darius wants to ignore him, out of spite mostly. There is a part of him that despises this man with a passion. But, Darius can see this isn't the same man he left in the caves. He's at the end of his rope, his faith in his own countrymen faltering. They sit in painful silence for a long time. Claudius waits patiently. He doesn't push, he just waits as Darius mulls it over. Darius breathes deeply before responding. "I traded my freedom for her life. They left her at the mines, but in petricite shackles so she wouldn't try to rescue me with magic." Darius can hear his voice crack from the lack of use. It's been days since he's spoken to anyone.
Darius sees the tension release from Claudius, as relief washes over him. "She's alive." He mumbles breathily.
"The last I saw her, yes."
"Why would you do that for her? Not that I'm complaining I'm just… confused." Claudius asks.
The image of Eryn pinned by Whitburn flashes into his mind. Her struggling to breath, looking so fragile beneath him. Her eyes flashing with rage and fear. He remembers how in that moment, it had taken him back to Basilich. To Quil refusing to surrender in front of him, and how he refused to make her. To how his inaction caused their daughter to take the situation into her own hands. How Quil bled out in his arms, due to him. He's quiet for a while, clenching his fists as any explanation he could have dies in his throat. He always has struggled with putting his feelings into words, preferring to declare them with actions. Fortunately for him it seems like Claudius is able to glean enough from reading his face. Claudius's face softens and he breathes out shaking his head. "I see."
They're both silent then. Claudius is looking at the ground, thinking about the new information revealed to him just now. Darius just observes him before Claudius speaks again. "She revealed she was a mage protecting you didn't she? That's probably why Lord Whitburn mentioned history repeating itself or whatever…" Darius simply nods and Claudius sighs again, running his hands through his short brown curls. "I've worked so hard to try to redeem our family name. And in an instant it's gone…"
Darius laughs. "Even after all this, you still don't see it." Claudius looks at him confused. "This obsession with bloodlines, nobility, and status. It's your downfall. And it will be Demacia's downfall. If you were a Noxian, your actions would speak louder than the past of your family's actions. Your loyalty is rewarded in Noxus, not punished."
Claudius's eyes light with rage. "Your deceitful words may have worked with my sister, but not me. I won't fall for it. Don't act like you're better than us."
Darius laughs again, the sound sharp and mocking. So stubborn. The siblings both seem to share that trait. But Eryn at least has the sense to see how her kingdom has wronged her. He can only hope that she took their words to heart, and escaped Demacia and headed for Noxus. A place he knows she can carve a home for herself. He just wishes he would get to be there to see it.
Claudius's brow furrows and he stands up. "We're done here I think. I got my answers. Good luck with Whitburn in the morning. I don't envy you." He hobbles off and Darius listens to the sound of his wooden crutch and his footsteps clicking across the cobblestone dungeon floors. Darius leans back against the dungeon walls, letting his mind wander to thoughts of home as the thundering of the storm above ground lulls him back to sleep.