A/N: Hello! Thank you for all the love I have been receiving for this story, it means the world! I love replying to any reviews I get, but so many of you are guest reviewers! Just know that if I could reply, I would! You are seen and appreciated!
I had planned all along for the trial to happen in this chapter, but I generally aim for each chapter to be between 2000-3000 words, and this one got there before I was even ready to start writing the trial, so I chose to wrap it up! It will for sure be in the next chapter, and I am really looking forward to writing it so you won't have to wait long!
My question for you folks is: What do you think the outcome of the trial could be?
I have a general idea of where I'd like to take this, but I am really interested in hearing more people's thoughts and ideas! If I decide to use any of your suggestions, I will of course give you credit for the idea, and if you leave your suggestion as a guest, maybe throw in your first name at the end, or nickname or whatever you'd like for me to offer credit too if I end up loving your idea!
Enjoy chapter 3!
Varian shivered on the damp stone for hours, still with his back horizontal against the bars. He watched as the sun set out his tiny window, and it seemed like no time until he was watching it rise again. Day 20. He had run out of tears just a couple of hours ago, and was left with red, irritated skin on his cheeks and eyes, and of course the complementary pounding headache. Varian could only imagine how he looked right about now after laying awake on the dirty floor, crying, all night long. He did not care how he looked. He did not care about much in this dark, cold and lonely place.
The sound of boots approaching did not startle him today. He pondered the idea that perhaps they'd be extra hard on him because of last night, and Varian decided that even if he was beaten or given horrible food scraps, he did not regret it. In fact, he had been beating himself up for not composing his emotions and fighting harder. Maybe if he hadn't been crying they would have taken him more seriously. Maybe if he had been better, if he had tried harder, Ruddiger would be here still. Maybe his father would too.
His train of thought made its way back to the people walking towards him, just as their footsteps halted on the other side of his cell. Varian still made no move. He couldn't.
Then, the Captain's voice boomed "Varian. Are you awake?" he waited, but Varian offered no response. "Varian." he repeated. This time, Varian figured he should be compliant, so he raised his arm slightly to let the man know that he was indeed awake.
"You've been lying there since yesterday, haven't you…" the Captain said, almost more so to himself than Varian. As expected, Varian gave no response to the hypothetical question.
The entire three weeks that Varian has been in custody for, he has been very quiet and melancholy. Nobody was expecting him to be okay with the separation from his pet, but nobody had quite expected the outburst that occurred either.
The Captain got down on one knee near Varian "Kid, listen, I'm sorry about your racoon. This won't be forever, once your trial is all over and done with, you can have him back. And he's doing just fine, by the way. Probably getting a belly rub as we speak." the Captain said, with a little awkwardness. It was the King who decided that if Varian were going to be informed of his trial ahead of time then he'd have to be held alone, as to reduce the risk of Varian trying anything, should his emotions run high again. Everyone knew what this kid was capable of, and nobody wanted to take any chances. He would not want to escape without his pet.
At the mention of his trial, Varian's heart rate spiked. He slowly sat up, and turned toward the Captain. His achy body protested and Varian ignored it. He noticed then that Stan was also present, several feet back. Varian had utterly and completely forgotten about the trial. The parchment and quill remained untouched where the Captain had left them yesterday. Varian looked the Captain in the eye uncharacteristically, his expression stricken with panic. In a very quiet and high pitched voice he said "I forgot." Varian bit his bottom lip.
The Captain signed, Varian today looked very different from the Varian he had seen running around the palace with his daughter and the princess many months ago. His eyes were red and swollen, and his skin was ghostly pale, especially in contrast to the blue of the tired dark circles under his eyes. He knew this boy was dangerous, and had some serious issues, but he felt for him.
"It's still early, you have some time before the trial. Right now we are going to take you to get yourself cleaned up and change your clothes. Before I open this door you need to get up and put your hands on the back wall." stated the Captain.
Varian hesitated, but ultimately did as he was told. He stood up slowly, and then once to his feet he paused with his eyes closed, as he became dizzy. He also held a hand on his side, it was very sore, either from sleeping on the ground or from being slammed into the wall yesterday. Varian didn't know.
After a moment, the small teen trudged a few feet to the back wall, and placed his shaking hands on the stone, resting his forehead against it as well. The Captain entered the cell and gently turned Varian around with a hand on his shoulder. The guard produced a pair of shackles from his belt and applied them to Varian's wrists. He then produced a key from his busy key ring and crouched down to Varian's ankle. When the shackle was removed, his ankle was a sad sight to see. The flesh was irritated with dirty scabs, and he had dark blue and purple bruises from the previous day's relentless tugging on the metal.
"I'll get you some ice for this later." the Captain said, Varian chose not to mention the terrible throbbing in his ribs. The Captain then placed a firm grip on Varian's skinny bicep and lead him out of the cell for the first time in three weeks. Stan met them at the door and took hold of Varian's other arm.
Varian knew the tight hold on his arms was so he couldn't get away, but nonetheless, he was grateful for it. Without the steady men keeping him up, he feared he may have trouble staying on his feet. He stumbled several times, his legs were shaky and weak and he felt very uncoordinated, much more so than his usual quirky clumsiness. The corridor in which Varian had listened to the coming and going guards each day (but had only walked himself once) was a longer walk for Varian. Both guards had adjusted their hold on him to give him a little more support once they realised just how weak he had become over the past three weeks. The stairs were tiring, yet doable.
Soon, they reached a large bathroom. They were still in the dungeon, but it was a little bit bright and a little bit warmer in this area. It appeared to be the prisoners bathroom, where all or many of the prisoner's bathed at once. Varian was very relieved to note that there were no other prisoners present at this time.
"Okay kid. You can have 10 minutes. There is soap, a toothbrush, a comb, a towel and a change of clothes all on the shelf in there. I will knock when time is almost up, you knock when you're ready for me to open the door." the Captain explained, and Varian nodded to show that he understood. When he stepped in, the Captain removed the shackles from Varian's wrists, then closed and locked the door behind him. Varian observed that there was a window on the door, but as he peeled away his grimy old clothes, exposing himself, he hoped that Stan and the Captain would do him the courtesy of looking away.
Varian was pleased to find out that the water, although not hot, was nice and warm. It stung on some parts of his damaged body, but overall, it felt amazing. He assessed the painful area on his side, and found that a dark pool of bruising covered the right side of his ribcage. It must have been a result of his altercation with the Captain. Varian gently touched the wounded area, and pulled away quickly with a hiss. It was definitely recent, and possibly a broken rib. Ouch.
Varian did his best to ignore the pain and continued to wash himself. He checked the window on the door often, feeling self conscious regarding the fact that the guards could look at him if they chose. He scrubbed his hair with the bar of soap he was given until there were more suds than hairs. He washed his face. He washed his ankle where the shackle had once resided. Soon, he had thoroughly washed every inch of himself, twice, and brushed his teeth thoroughly as well. After checking the window once more, he stood under the stream of warm water and shut his eyes. He allowed the water to drown out the mess that was his life, until a rapping came at the door. Varian sighed at the sound, but promptly turned off the stream of water and hurried to his towel. He dried off, being careful around his injury, and then picked up the clean clothing given to him. It consisted of a pair of brown cotton slacks, containing draw strings (thankfully), which Varian tied as tightly as possible, and a long sleeved white cotton shirt, with just two buttons at the collar, and the crest of corona stitched on the breast. Varian leaned over to roll up his too long pant legs, and yelped loudly when his injured ribs protested. Another knock came to the door.
"Everything okay, kid?" came the Captain's voice.
Varian observed that he still hadn't looked in the window. Varian wondered why the guards would trust him, but then pushed his questioning aside. Take what you can get.
Varian disregarded the other pant leg, and instead of rolling up his too long sleeves, he gripped the access fabric in his fists. Now hurrying, he gave a light knock on the door.
"Put your hand against the wall." said the guard. Varian obeyed. The Captain unlocked and opened the door a moment after. He turned Varian around, and noticed that the kid looked a little more alive now that the acquired layer of dirt and grime had been washed away.
"Hands out." The Captain commanded, while producing the shackles from his belt.
Varian obeyed and held his skinny arms out in front of him, still gripping the ends of his sleeves.
The Captain gently pulled the material out of the boy's grasp and pushed it up his arm one at a time, before placing the heavy shackles on his wrists.
"Feel any better now? You certainly smell better." said Stan, as he stepped forward to take his place at Varian's side. Varian huffed an artificial laugh and muttered "Yeah" in response, and the Captain chuckled too, while he locked the shackles securely.
When Varian considered it, he did feel a little bit better. His headache had dulled and his muscles felt soothed. Most of all, he was thankful to leave his cell. He felt as if he were going crazy in there for so long. Well, crazier than he supposed he already was…
The walk back felt a little easier, compared to the trip there. He figured he was just less stiff now. Varian still had to rely on the guards by his side to keep him steady, but his strides could be somewhat faster.
Varian day dreamed while they walked, so he was surprised when they reached the turning point down to Varian's corridor, and the Captain brought them all to a stop.
"Stan, please go get Varian's breakfast and some ice for him." said the Captain. Stan complied with a curt nod, and released his hold on Varian before turning away. The Captain re adjusted his hold on Varian to make up for Stan's absence. Suddenly, Varian let out a loud yelp, followed by a wince and he tried to pull his bound hands to his side, unsuccessfully.
The Captain nearly faltered. Nearly. His grip did not budge. Still, he said "Is something wrong? Are you hurt?" He looked Varian up and down.
Varian shook his head. "No sir, just some bruises. I'm fine." Varian said, in a small, mousy voice.
Stan must have stopped when he heard the commotion, because he called from down the hall "Everything ok, sir?"
The Captain looked up from Varian and in the direction of Stan's voice. "Yes, we're fine. Bring ice." he replied, and pushed Varian lightly, signaling him to walk again.
Varian found himself coming to a halt again, a few feet before his cell. The door remained opened, so they Captain planned to march right in. Varian however, felt his chest tighten at the notion of stepping back into the tiny room. The Captain offered Varian's shoulder a squeeze, trying to que to keep walking. It worked, but Varian could not help but respond with a bit of attitude. He scowled and pulled his shoulder away from the man, then huffed and marched into the cell, as passionately as a frail, injured teenager could. The Captain released his hold on him, and Varian stomped directly to his cot and plopped onto the edge of it with another huff.
The Captain gave Varian a look that could only be achieved by a father, or by the Captain of the Royal Guard. This man just so happened to be both.
Varian caught the warning glare, and averted his eyes.
The Captain picked up the dreaded ankle shackle to once again bind Varian to the stone wall. Crouching down by Varian's feet, he looked at the boys ankles, and choosing the opposite ankle to last time, as to allow the wounds on the other to heal. The Captain shackled Varian's ankle with more care than the first time, which Varian silently appreciated. The Captain then took off the bindings on Varian's wrists. He stepped back and crossed his arms. "Alright, let's have a look at those bruises." The Captain said. It could have been formed as a question, but it sounded more like a command.
Varian became nervous. "No, I'm fine. They're fine." he muttered, looking off to the side.
The Captain used a little bit of the same sharpness that Varian had displayed, back at him. "I don't remember asking. Stand up and lift up your shirt." He spit.
Varian was smart. Surely smart enough to know not to disobey an order like that. Varian's hands started to tremble. He gingerly stood up and lifted his shirt, only enough to reveal a little bit of the inky markings staining his body.
The Captain squinted in the dim lighting. He stepped closer and took a knee in front of Varian. Slowly, as to not startle the boy, the Captain lifted the shirt slightly higher, revealing more of the injury, and more of Varian's seemingly dire malnutrition. Varian himself let go of the shirt, and the Captain noticed his shaking hands.
"Does it hurt worse when you take a big breath?" The captain asked.
Varian tested it with a big breath, and then he shook his head. "No worse."
The Captain nodded. "Ok. That's good, that means that probably nothing is out of place. There could be a small break maybe, but it is probably just bruised up, like you said." He said, letting the shirt fall back down.
The Captain had realized as soon as Varian admitted to being injured, that the only possible way he could have obtained the injury was during the quarrel the two worked through yesterday evening. The Captain found himself feeling a pang of guilt. Was Varian really threatening enough to warrant roughly pinning him against a wall, as he had done? In his element, yes. After three weeks in a prison cell, with nothing but the clothes on his back? Unlikely. The Captain could only shake his guilt by thinking 'Better safe than sorry.' and 'What's done is done.'
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