His father.
Even during Christmas, his father sat where he usually did, in the throne room, a guard on each side with a fleur de lis etched on each of their chests. Even so, he was taller than Lancer standing, a rhino over his calf. All of the celebrations seemed to stop, and Saint Nicholas couldn't pray his way, the carolers couldn't belt out their way past the stones in the throne room walls. Neither could the scents of the baked ham, the stew, the apples, waft through them. They were only replaced by charcoal. The flames that were behind each guard fluttered in the background, and even though there were the usual sounds of revelry… it was Christmas, after all, and a night had passed since the friends Lancer loved so much were shoved behind bars… all was calm, all was bright, all was terror, all was night in the throne room.
"Lancer."
Lancer stared at the floor, and in a daring move, he shifted his eyes back and forth across the room, just above the oft-scrubbed floor, just to see if his father was pleased enough to let him do so.
"Lancer, my son."
The world seemed to hold its breath, the smoke from the torches seeping in. His father's foot boomed from the edge of the throne, and one could hear his belly jiggle from the other edge of the room, a Santa Claus with a demon's disguise. He was stepping off of the throne, his shadow growing ever nearer to Lancer. Oh, no. What had Lancer done wrong? Did he forget to lock the jail gate tight enough? Should he have added more tally marks to the prison wall so his friends couldn't have any room to count their days? Did he forget to attend the Christmas Eve mass service that morning?
He could feel his father's hand hovering over his head. A tenuous crane in flight. Underneath it, underneath all of it-Lancer smiled. He didn't let it show. He kept his head bowed low, kept his hoodie as a shadow on the ground. But he smiled. He knew his father had some sort of pride in him for what he did. Maybe he'd go easy on him, only add a few more bruises to his legs. Maybe he'd-
His father patted him, a little hard on the first one, but still patting. No bruises.
"Son…"
Lancer looked up. For the first time in his young life, he looked up.
And what he saw was a smile, stretched out into endless miles. A smile that he saw in his dear little skeleton friend, and not one etched and echoed into the curvatures of a demon. It was the smile he'd craved all of these years, the smile that appeared on other fathers, les pères, whenever they would play with their children in the meadow beside Rouxl's duchy. It filled Lancer's cravings to the brim, filled them all with-
Poison.
Poison… and who was he to accept that? Poison that came from his friends' betrayal. What a tangled, blackened heart that his lungs were breathing in. The prison was echoing through him now. The poison was driving him away now, at first pushing him to his toes, and then backing away. And then, for the first time, his father realized his height, sat back down, thinking that was the reason of Lancer's flight. But he didn't know that the poison still danced through Lancer's veins, forced Lancer to tiptoe back against the wall. If this was pride, if this is what the royal guards all strove for, if this is what Rouxls tried to make him feel for his wonderful patria…
...it hurt.
As soon as he began to sprint for the prisons, the guards stood or perhaps lunged back and forth a few times in confusion. Their job was to obey royalty, but at the same time, their job was to protect it. His father, however, disregarded it, running as fast as the many trips down to the wine cellar would allow him to, sprinting, sprinting, sprinting….if only he could get through the entrance… the castle torches were wafting in his face, nearly catching his robes afire…. if only… if only… if only…
The public waited outside, and besides the sight of Lancer running, they couldn't find anything amiss. They were tourists, visitors to the castle, who would often take pictures of the castle roof that hung just overhead. Tourists that would turn into a mob if they knew what happened behind the castle doors. His father was held back. He could only stand by the entrance and curse, curse until the day ended, curse until the moon hung over the sky and the stars found themselves weeping!