It boiled inside of the King, although he didn't want it to. It lapped, laughed inside of the King's veins, although he didn't want it to. It racked inside of him, although he didn't want it to. It was a cycle, a cycle that began with the first of the kings, each king laying bruises on his prince until the King who was now seated on the throne came to reign. He tried to end it. Hell, he tried to discover it. Tried to.
All he could do was try.
The roof stretched out in front of him, his son running, sprinting towards his beloved Steed, towards the dungeons. Humiliation kept the King from running out, but he could at least look up.
He had to keep it in his native tongue, had to keep it hidden. There was nothing indicating that anyone in the castle didn't know it, but it still had to be kept secret. If not secret, at least veiled. Lancer swallowed, tried to forget all traces of English, that dull, yet still beautiful, language.
He rapped at the guard's shoulder, a teacher in rapt attention. "Excusez-moi monsieur?"
"Qu'est-ce qu'il se passe, Lancer?" Lancer had to stay still for a moment. Royal deferences there was none, yet dismiss there was none. Other than his friends, there wasn't anyone who spoke to him like that. Which was why Lancer approached him with more confidence.
Lancer latched his hands on the keys, in a fit of childish trust, and the guard pulled it away. No one under Heaven could be that trusting, after all.
"S'il vous plaît. Ce sont mes amis. Vous avez vu comment je les ai poussés dans la cellule. Vous n'avez pas trouvé de motif raisonnable pour expliquer pourquoi j'ai fait, non?"
The guard sighed, the huff jumping out of him into a ghost-wisp in the air. "J'ai fait. Mais je ne peux pas excuser les prisonniers simplement à cause de la témérité d'un garçon."
There. The insult left. Lancer's face bunched with shame. He supposed he deserved it, and he supposed the guard was right. He supposed everyone was right except him. "Bien. Je suis peut-être un imbécile, mais je vais vous poser quelques questions. " "Leur demander," the guard said, a cigarette topping the edge of his pocket. He toyed around with it whenever Lancer didn't speak, his face not quite chiseled the way one's face should when he enters adulthood. "Je n'ai rien de mieux à faire ici."
"La première question: qui a négligé de vous donner, à vous et au reste des gardes, du pain quand il n'a plus de pain, et qui vous refuse un lieu de repos pendant la nuit, à part le sol de cette prison?"
The guard laughed, as humorless as it was. "Vous avez posé deux questions alors qu'il aurait dû y en avoir une, mais je vous laisserai tout de même vous en demander plus."
Lancer paused. "Le second est ... qui m'a dit d'emprisonner ceux que vous gardez maintenant?"
The guard laughed, with a little humor this time. "Oui, mon garçon, le roi est un homme bon. Peu importe ce que les autres pensent de lui. S'il y a un dieu quelque part, le roi est un excellent représentant. Il garde les pauvres hors des rues de la ville, nous donne le texte de la Sainte Bible pour garder nos âmes mortelles de l'enfer, nous donne des hôpitaux pour le corps et l'esprit… mais il est faillible. N'oublie jamais ça."
The guard paused, took off his oxygen mask, ignored Lancer's quiet "that may not be a good idea", took a breath out of his cigarette. He coughed, as if so lost inside his thoughts that he forgot the tar and fire ravaging his lungs. "Oui, le roi oublie de temps en temps de me donner du pain à manger, à moi et aux autres. Il néglige de nous donner un endroit pour nous reposer."
Lancer moved the guard's hand down, the keys slipping down the guard's wrist. ""À cet égard, monsieur, nous sommes les mêmes."
The guard paused, let the keys slide down his hand onto Lancer's arm. He scanned Lancer as if he were a floating hand in a laboratory, too savage, too inhuman, too changed from what it should be to be real. This agonizing silence lasted for second upon second. Too long, too long, too long…
But then he smiled, turning his back, giving his oxygen tank a rest and leaning it to the side. He walked away, shouting over his shoulder, "Si quelqu'un me demande, je serai en ville!"
With a poke and a ghost of a shake, Lancer woke up Kris and Ralsei. Kris only flopped over, but he waved his hand towards Lancer's, and Lancer sighed with relief. Lancer didn't notice he was shaking until after Ralsei woke up, didn't notice how blurry his vision became until after Ralsei sat up, asked what was wrong.
He managed to stand, twisted his keys into the door, and it opened with a clumping groan. He slumped to the edge of the door, the few heaving, ugly sobs making the bar doors jingle and almost making the guard turn the corner. It was hesitant, but Lancer could feel Ralsei's hand on his shoulder.
"I'm so sorry. God, I'm so sorry."
"I know. I know."
"I'm never ever ever ever ever gonna do this again…"
"I know, I know, shhh…"
Lancer stayed, strayed for a few minutes. Kris stirred, woke up, but didn't say anything, didn't move across the dingy jail floor towards the both of them. The sobs still echoed, and he thanked God, the son of God, that the guard was out of town.
"Suze?"
Ralsei didn't reply, but still embraced, still embraced.
Lancer coughed, tried to get himself in order. God, he was so pathetic. He tried again. All he could do was try.
"Suze? Where is she?"
If it was possible, Ralsei took on a pallor. A veil.
He didn't say anything, only pointing to the throne room window.
The light was on.