Involuntary Void – Imprisoned

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Ann.: This chapter contains more swearing than usual. Graphic depiction of depression.

Same annotations as previous chapters. Trivia at end of chapter.

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From here on the events came thick and fast and I wasn't personally there to witness most of them because … stuff happened. Hell, that sounds so dull in comparison what has been going down the following days after Skye and I met face to face, and it surely doesn't come remotely close to the headaches that have been piling up one after another. It doesn't graze the hardships and it doesn't do Nahyuta justice, or rather, what Nahyuta had been doing on his end.

Maybe I should start the story from the beginning. Maybe it would be humane to help anyone understand where Nahyuta and I went wrong. But fuck will I do that.

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From the place I was lying on I could see a scrap of dark sky. There was no way of telling what time it was and how long I have been staring through the barred window. It could be minutes or hours or days. I had lost track of time. But I knew, at some point I would be able to see dawn just like in my other, home prison.

The thought made me feel bitter. I had spent so many years of my life in some kind of prison. I had been trapped in cars, by an orphanage, by the law, by bars, in my mind ... it just happened again. And again.

I closed my eyes. Being imprisoned – being imprisoned alone for too long – did make you think, made you remember, question things. I hated it. I hated it so fucking much, more than anything else. Because it brought back demons I had locked away in the deepest crypts of my mind, turned me into a version of myself I so desperately tried dealing with. It made me self-conscious. It destroyed what I have been working on for years.

I turned to my other side, rested my head in my elbow. I dug my nose into the smooth fabric and hoped it would still smell like something else than myself or the prison but the pleasant smells that this clothing had had from the wardrobe have long escaped. Of course they had.

Honestly, I was tired. A kind of tiredness one couldn't cure with sleep or distraction or company and most certainly not in a prison cell.

I missed Dogen.

I pressed my head harder against my elbow and tried to fight the storm building up behind my forehead. All of this woke another uproar. Another one of those symptoms I wished I didn't have, I wished nobody would know I had them. My arms were twitching without that I had any control over them and my breathing grew irregular, and I sat up, had to sit up, pressed my back against the cold cell wall to stabilize myself, pressed the back of my head against the stone and opened my mouth to get back control over myself, breathing, breathing, ….

I was panting, and cold sweat collected under my hairline, started running down my temples. I clawed my fingers into my arms to stop them from trembling – fucking stop shaking – and forced myself to keep on breathing steadily, to not give in to the panic inside my mind.

"Insolent creature. How much self-pity can a fool have?"

My eyes flew open. I turned my head, still clinging to my own arms that were slung around myself protectively, and tried to make out the source of voice. Who was there?

There was nobody in front of my cell, nobody mocking me from the other side of my cell's bars. There sure as hell were no people in the cells next to me and it was too dark to make out anything further in. I had been here long enough to know that I was alone in this prison. I was alone.

I broke into a coughing streak for having held my breath in for too long and fought for air to fill my lungs. Clinging to the plank bed I rolled onto the floor to stretch out, to give my body the space it needed, and drew in a shaky breath as my condition finally stabilized.

I wiped away the tears from my cheeks. Self-pity. Did I pity myself? "Who's there?", I called into the dark. I sounded pathetic, my voice something between croaking and gasping. I didn't pity myself.

Nobody answered.

Maybe I was going mad. Maybe this episode had finally cracked my mind and I'd started hearing voices that weren't there. I heard something for sure. But maybe the time of pretending was finally over and what I alleged to be real truly has now become real. I truly were able to talk to the demons in my mind. Or the demons in my mind were able to talk to me. Was there a difference?

I shakily got to my feet and walked over to the bars. Closed my fingers around them and looked left and right down the narrow hallway that connected all of the cells. There was a light in the far end, where the prison guard sat and kept watch. He had strict orders to not talk to prisoners, I had already confirmed. I doubted he'd react even if I told him that I was mad …

"We are all mad here", I whispered into the silence with a shaking laugh, for some reason suddenly remembering that part from 'Alice in Wonderland' vividly despite hating the story. Why did I hate it … Oh yes, it was Horace's favorite story back in the orphanage. Back then he had wanted me to read it out to him all the time after it had been light's-out already.

"Simon, Simon, can you read the part where Alice walks with the fawn? Simon please …!" - "Horace, it's dark and Roland will scold us if she finds that we're not sleeping yet!" - "Simon, just that part, I beg you! We can use your flashlight and read under the blanket! Miss Roland won't know!"

I turned to face my cell's window, put my head back and hit my forehead against the bars, twisting my face into a smile. It was ironic. My whole life has been so fucking ironic. I got what I wanted, did I not? I completed my revenge with bravura, I got my enemies punished, locked up or dead.

And yet I decided to break the fucking law again and travel to Khura'in of all places, and fuck everything up when I could just have stayed in my cell and waited until my prison sentence was over! Would it have been so hard? Three months. What were three months when you had been in prison for years?

"Looking at you gives me a headache. Sit down and be quiet."

I froze. There was no mistake, this time the voice hadn't been in my head for sure. So I wasn't mad after all?

A coughing laugh escaped me and I covered my face with one hand, my shoulders shaking. "What's so funny, soulless imbecile? Did you not hear my order?" The voice, probably belonging to a woman, grew louder with every word but trailed off at the ending of her sentence and her voice sounded husky with the next words: "Never mind."

"You. Is there a way out of here?" I had been blocked off by bars too many times. And yet it was ironic how those bars embodied two to each other antagonistic symbols that moment as I stared intensely into the darkness in hope to make out any shapes further in: they were holding me back, holding me from freedom and keeping me imprisoned. At the same time they were also stabilizing me, giving me something to hold onto, and gave me a twisted sense of familiarity. I'd seen bars for far too long in my life ...

"If there was one I wouldn't be here." The way she replied was dragging, slow, the words creeping through the air. I thought I still recognized the very court way of talking, the manner it reminded me of. Roland used to talk like this, placing her words like a typewriter placed letters onto paper.

"How long have you been trying?" Would manipulating this person help me? I couldn't tell who they were because I couldn't see and just going by voice wasn't enough. She wasn't used to talking much, I could tell, either because of a long time of imprisonment or …

… it could just be a character trait. What gives?

I clenched my fingers tighter around the bars. Did I want to get out of prison? If I got out I could fulfill my mission and return ... The thought made me restless. Return to what? Prison for prison?

"What does it matter to you, insolent soul?" I heard the clacking of chains, movement in the darkness. "You're Nahyuta's anyways." I flinched and stumbled back, away from the bars. Her next words fueled the fire in my soul ("It's his clothes you're wearing already, no?") and a repulsive feeling got hold of me.

Disgust.

I had never never been disgusted of myself before. Of other people all the time. Knightley, Roland, Debeste, Faraday. But I have known this, haven't I? It just took so little to realize. To actively think about it. Deep down I had always known that I had given up my independence long ago. That I was wearing invisible shackles, have been wearing them all along but pretended not to see them. Pretended that I was free.

You're Nahyuta's.

My head was a cage and I was chased by my thoughts, all alone. I was pathetic. I was helpless. And my cell was too small to fit me into it, and it was suffocating me. The light of night that was falling into my cell was too bright, and the voices in my head way too loud. I needed to get out. I needed soothing darkness.

"Chirp .. chirrrp …. chir-chirip."

I opened my eyes. I had almost not heard through my hands pressed on my ears. But the tune caught onto me, got hold of me.

Hesitantly I turned my head, looked at the cell's barred windows. There was a bird sitting between them, small, dark feathers with red spots around its eyes. It jumped back and forth, chirping quietly, a tune …

Freedom.

I wondered what freedom meant. What did it mean to me? I extended a hand, whistled quietly, watched the bird fly into my cell and onto the cell's floor, moving around its head and chirping again. I held my hand so that the bird could land on my open palm, waited until it trusted me.

"We are not that different from each other now." I caressed its tiny head and whistled along some tunes, the familiar tunes – how come the flock of birds had failed to sing the Khura'inese song but for this one bird? I thought I had taught the birds to sing it, but only one of them actually knew how to sing it - it must be special …

... and yet, no matter how special it was, it had chosen to enter my prison on its own will (like me?) – or was it tricked into the cell by me (my fault?)?

The bird flapped with its wings and took off in a wild panic. "Wha-"

"Animals love you." His voice.

My fingers dug into the ground without finding anything to hold onto. He was the last person I had expected in the middle of the night. Why are you here?

I forced myself to turn my head, to look at him, his divine presence right in front of the cell's bars, white against the darkness in his back. Nahyuta gave a court nod and the two watchmen who had accompanied him hit their fists against their chests and left, leaving their regent alone with me.

Except we weren't alone.

"You visit him but never came to visit me." There was no accusation in her tone, all sharpness gone but for how she chose to phrase her sentence. Nahyuta's shoulders tensed up even though he held his arms crossed behind his back, and he lowered his head. Still he chose to address me instead of her (why?): "Those souls don't trust any stranger easily. Is it because of your silver tongue or is it because you have a heart of gold?" Animals?

"Don't make me laugh." I inched my way to the opposite wall of the bars to lean against the wall, arms wrapped around my knees. I was all too aware how dirty my clothes were because I haven't been granted the luxury of a set of change.

"It was a sincere question." He moved his head to the side and though he didn't smile he seemed at peace. Under other circumstances I would have loved listening to Nahyuta's flowing talking and watched the tiny movements of his body that told stories on their own – befitting a person whose words could either make you feel valid and loved, or could crush you with their weight and deadliness. Not now. Not after what he has done.

"Let it go and move on." I rarely forgot when I was treated like this. And his words still rang in my mind.

I pressed my hands against my ears.

"You are king." The other voice laughed slowly and filled the void between Nahyuta and me. Oh, she sounded broken … bitter. "You can do whatever you want. It's not too late."

Nahyuta acted as if he didn't hear her, only drew his brows together. He reached out to the cell door, and to my surprise turned around a key in the lock to open it.

Let it go and move on.

"Let us walk", he invited me. I snorted. Something between a scream and a laugh was stuck in the back of my throat and I wasn't sure which side would win.

"That wise?"

"Don't underestimate me. I will use the art of Jiu Jitsu should the need arise." He stepped aside, holding the cell door open for me and invited me to come out with another flawless hand motion. "I need a talk with you without interruption."

He needs the woman to shut up. She's breaking his facade.

I got to my feet, adjusted the belt around my waist like Nahyuta had done for me back then (not that it made me look better), and stepped outside the cell, eyes fixed onto Nahyuta. He avoided looking back but closed the cell door behind me and gesticulated me to step ahead. I followed his unvoiced order, and when we started walking down the hallway I started memorizing my surroundings, following a habit.

It distracted me from my doubts.

Without talking we stepped out of prison area, which was at the side parts of palace grounds, and for some reason we turned to the city instead of palace. I slowed down my pace but Nahyuta placed a hand onto my shoulder and pushed me on gently, and we started walking down the road.

Thank goodness it was the middle of the night. Only very few people were out on the streets and yet it was enough to make me nervous – my heart was beating in my chest and I fiddled with my clothes, all too conscious about the contrast between the royal and myself and of the few people's stares and their whispers. I couldn't deal with masses, I still couldn't stand being around so many people. I wasn't sure that I ever felt comfortable with a lot of people. Their looks. The judgment. It made my skin ache. It attacked me simply because my guard was down.

It made me feel dizzy again and I looked down onto the ground, trying to keep my gaze focused and my feet steady.

The hand on my shoulder fell off and closed firmly around my cold clam fingers. I flinched but Nahyuta whispered: "Bare with me."

I was too shook to answer. I was too shook by the way this man was influencing me, with his presence, his actions, and I should know better. I was no fool. I knew things other people would never know. I did things other people would never do. I killed people. And yet, a little gesture, a little sympthy, from a man who locked me into prison, a warm hand around mine, was that all to get me out of balance, to forgive Nahyuta Sahdmadhi?

We stopped along the road and entered a shack (or maybe that was a normal house but it looked dilapidated) with some sort of placard but I hadn't had the time to read what was written on it.

Inside the shack didn't look better than outside. There were too many colors crammed into one small dark space, a lot of run-down furniture and for some reason knives that were sticking out of walls and card boards – those details flooded my senses immediately like a tidal wave.

And then there was a coat hanging from a clothes line on the wall, and some sort of shrine next to it, with a shiny (golden?) frame on it, and apples. And more knives.

"Hey, you're finally here." A young man turned around on an old couch to greet us and stood up when we entered deeper into the room, putting down a staple of papers in his hands. He walked toward us and I scanned him too.

He was remarkably small, especially next to Nahyuta and me, but well built. His eyes had a burning passionate look in them that could make your guts burn but he also had the eyes of a man who had suffered through loss and yet looked ahead into a bright future. Strength, cautiousness … I would need to be careful around him to not slip up (but then again, when did I not have to be careful?).

His handshake (he actually reached out and shook my hand) was firm (like Nahyuta's had been out on the street) and was a perfect addition to his raspy loud voice.

Who was this man, and why did Nahyuta bring me here? I looked at him, tensing up.

"This is Simon Keyes." Nahyuta pointed at me with open palm, his calm face turning into a smile, and directed his hand at the man next to me: "This is my brother, Apollo Justice."

"Brother?", I echoed. My eyes darted back and forth, in search for any sign of resemblance between them two but no matter how hard I looked, there was none.

"Not a brother by blood", Nahyuta confirmed my suspicion.

"So you're Simon, huh." Apollo crossed his arms in front of his chest and his gaze burned over my skin, as if looking through it to the bottom of my soul. It made me highly uncomfortable, especially in the state I was in. "Nice to meet you. Nahyuta told me a lot about you."

Was that a lie? My eyes darted over his face and he threw his head back and laughed, an obnoxiously loud and open laugh … A fighting spirit. Full of fire. A different kind of passion than Nahyuta's. He will not hold back his opinion and he isn't afraid to fight. I put down some mental notes.

"Nahyuta had warned me that you will try to read me. It's usually the other way round, you know?" Apollo put a hand on his head and pressed down two rebellious looking strands of hair on top of his head with a shy smile. "Well then, Simon, whatever, take a seat. I'd offer something but I only have apples."

"Datz's?" Nahyuta had walked over to the shrine-thing and peeled an apple with a knife. He seemed as misplaced in here as a swan among ducks, and worst of all, he seemed to enjoy it to the utmost.

"Yes. He's out buying new ones anyways. Datz doesn't know how to save up money and just keeps on spending mine. Want one?" On his way to the couch Apollo walked past the card board and pulled out one of the knives sticking in there, grabbing an apple next to the shrine as well. Neither Nahyuta nor Apollo were paying special attention to me and it weirded me out, threw me back into my doubts so that I closed my hands around my elbows and glared at the two on the couch.

Why do you lock me up and then invite me here, Nahyuta?

He must have a superior motive. I just couldn't come up with anything. My head was empty.

Maybe I was the misplaced one after all.

"Come, sit with us." Nahyuta pointed to the place next to him. I followed hesitantly, sat down on the edge of the couch and listened to the brothers' talk without comment, declined another slice of apple that was offered to me and just tried to make sense of what was happening. They didn't treat me like a prisoner. It had been Nahyuta who had ordered to incarcerate me and now it had been Nahyuta to get me out of prison again. But was I free or did I just fail to see my new cage?

I could feel anxiety coming back to me, mainly because I hated to not be in control. To be left in the dark. To be left out. Why did it happen again?

"Simon. You still need a defense attorney, right?" The sudden question directed at me made me startle.

"Attorney?", I echoed and lifted both hands over my mouth. "N-no ..." I shook my head. I didn't need to pretend this time because the question seriously took me off guard. "I- I hate attorneys."

"You killed them, didn't you? With that amount of evidence against you, do you really think that I stand a chance against the prosecutor? … Mister Gustavia, you will have to prepare for the worst possible outcome I fear."

"I don't think I need one", I added.

"So you did kill him?" Nahyuta leaned back in the couch and stretched his arm out on the couch's rest behind me. I could physically feel his hand at the back of my head without him touching me.

"Is that why I'm here?" I stared back into Nahyuta's eyes, my face twisting into a grimace of the emotions rampaging inside me. Nahyuta's eyes weren't burning like Apollo's but they were dangerous, calm and calculating and deadly sharp, deep pools of green drowning me out.

Which side would win …?

"We're here because we want to find the truth", Apollo cut in the tension between Nahyuta and me. "We're waiting for someone to arrive but I can still explain. Khura'in's revolution … our victory .. is still fresh. The wounds it made on people's minds and souls are still fresh. The last thing we want to have is another uproar, both on regal and judicial sides." Apollo extended a hand and looked at his palm, his shoulders drooping. "We have a great legacy to carry on. We plan on doing that. A dragon never yields." He made a claw with his right hand, clenched it into a fist and hit his chest, not dissimilar to the watchmen's salute in the palace. From the corners of my eyes I saw that Nahyuta copied his gesture.

"So what?", I asked. I got pieces of the puzzle in front of me but I did not fit in. My mission did not fit in. The events of those past days did not fit in.

"The Divination Séance isn't infallible", Apollo answered and shrugged. I did not know what a Divination Séance was but didn't ask. "That's why it's our duty to interpret its meaning in court. For the sake of truth."

"Truth." That word I knew just too well. That word made me angry. And anger was familiar as well. Hell, I knew everything about so called "truth". What use was there in truth when it could be twisted and turned the way the mighty ones wanted it? Only idiots kept on screaming about the value of truth in times like these but it was tainted, and winners dictated what truth was. I had my fair share of experience with that topic.

It boiled just under the surface of my skin, so much piled up anger that has woken anew thanks to the time I had spent in prison. Thanks to the memories. "And what do you think this alleged truth is?" I heard myself how I sounded. Oh but it was so easy now to throw it into his face, and saying those words aloud felt right when it had been feeling wrong for so long. No pretending.

"We're here to find it." Apollo's sincerity was unsettling. "But we need your help."

"My help." I dug my fingers deeper into the couch. "You want me to kill someone for you? How nice to have a murderer in your cells, right? No need to dirty your hands this way." Oh it made sense now. Of course. I faced Nahyuta but he made those 6-formed praying poses with his hands again, and exhaled. He shook his head.

"Apollo speaks the truth-" (There it was again!) "-and we want you to at least hear us out. You're judging too fast, Simon. You didn't hear about our cause: This is not about killing. It's about carrying the revolution's will."

"I don't give a fuck." I jumped up, baring my teeth at Nahyuta. "I don't care about your fancy ideals and revolution and all that bullshit. It's nonsense. I hate it. It's got nothing to do with me. You're talking big about changing things, about finding the truth", I waved my arms around. "Do you really think I would go out of my way to help when you betrayed me just some days ago? Where have your pretty ideals been then? How you can you be so fucking two-faced, making me believe that you'd help me and then throw me into prison without explanation whatsoever?" I wiped over my face, jittery, hating myself.

There. I had said it.

Nahyuta didn't blink. He just kept looking at me with closed-off face - I expected words of reasoning ("I was first to help you without expecting anything in return, did you forget?", "We agreed to not trust each other", "Two-faced?") and fuck, he would have had a point. That's exactly how I envisioned Nahyuta to be. That's how I saw him and worst of all, I knew he would have all the rights to say that. Maybe we both were in the wrong. Maybe we hadn't even noticed who did what wrong and when - but ... Nahyuta Sahdmadhi instead put down one hand folded on the other onto the sofa and bowed to me, pressing his forehead against his folded hands.

"I concede that I acted despicably and without thought. My eyes were clouded with rage and I reacted like I used to during my many years under Ga'ran which under no circumstances is excusable. I will not ask for your forgiveness but if there's anything you want to add, feel free to do so."

"Sit up!", I blurted, my face burning with shame. With anger.

Nahyuta followed my words, his face still sincere and calm as always, and nodded to Apollo, who for some reason was rubbing over his wrist, where a golden bracelet prominently came to my attention. With that glance they seemed to have a whole conversation but I didn't follow. I didn't even follow myself.

I reached out for the sofa and held onto the rest, and wiped over my face with hectic gestures. I would have deserved a different reaction. On his stead I would have been angry too. Why, Nahyuta? Why?

Let it go and move on.

"How much do you know about what happened?", Apollo asked. I lifted my head and stared at him, stared at them both. How in the world could he keep an even face despite what just happened between his brother and me, despite my screaming and how I made his brother and Khura'in's king bow to me? How did he not comment on it, how did he not side with Nahyuta, how did he just continue on the task at hand ?

You're weak, Simon, I told myself and pressed my thumb against my brow, grimacing again. Okay, I could be professional too. What else was there left for me, than following the orders I have been given? I was following someone all the time anyways. How much do you know about what happened?

"How much … do you know … about what happened", I repeated slowly, breaking myself free from the toxic thoughts. Later. I would think about it later. Professional now. "Nothing. The dead guy hated Nahyuta. Now he's dead." Yes, I could do that. I could remember things. I could think back and at least listen to Apollo.

Apollo reached into the folds of his waistcoat and pulled out a rectangular piece of paper. He stretched out his arm and placed the card onto the table and this moment I nearly had another heart attack.

When I had come to Khura'in I should have come prepared. Dogen had warned me this would happen before he died. I had known what game I was playing here.

But seeing Shelly DeKiller's calling card on the table in front of me was a whole different story than just knowing that the assassin should theoretically be on a mission in Khura'in ...

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Trivia: I believe that Simon chose to dye his hair red for two reasons: One, he and Horace Knightley naturally share one hair color and both of them dye their hair (and you know what Simon thinks about Horace), and two, red is the color of anger, hate, revenge and blood.

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