Robin knew mother had told him to never talk to strangers, and yet here he was, staring up at the ceiling of a room that wasn't his, forced to sleep on a strange bed by a man who said he was his father.
He wanted to go home. This place, his father had told him, was his home now, but that was wrong. This place would never be his home. His real home was back in the village, back with mother, where the sun shone down on him and warmed his face as he played, and all he ever had to worry about was mother sending him out to chop firewood.
But that was gone now.
Mother was dead. Everyone else too. The townspeople. The other kids. Marth. He'd been helpless to watch as the men stormed in and set houses alight, and he'd seen them drag those left behind the hill, crying and screaming to be let go. He wasn't stupid. He knew what they had done to them.
Robin knew better than to trust strangers, but this man wasn't just a stranger. He was a monster.
All the books Robin had read and all the stories mother had told him said monsters were mindless beasts, angry, hideous, and easy to outwit. This man wasn't like that. He was calm. He was sharp. And worst of all, he was smart.
The clutches the monster held him in were not gnarled and cold, but with stone walls and a fireplace crackling over the stale, dusty air. No sword could break its grasp, no tricks could earn his freedom. He was trapped in here, hidden from even the sun's warmth.
His eyes flicked over to the large wooden door at the end of his room: the only way out of this prison. The only other opening in the room, the fireplace, was much too hot to climb through, and there were no windows, so Robin didn't even know if it was day or night. He had no idea how much time had passed, and any second now, that man could come through the door and do whatever horrible things he had planned for him.
Would he kill him? Would he eat him alive? Robin didn't know, and that scared him.
The man had said nothing was going to happen to him, but Robin knew he was lying. Monsters like him always lied, and if that was a lie, then what was the truth? What was going to happen to him?
He needed to get out of here. Robin looked all around him, at the unmoving walls that trapped him. Through them, a dull throbbing reached his ears.
What was making that sound? He had no idea what horrible things were happening behind those walls, and the repetitive thudding noise echoed inside his head, getting closer and closer.
He needed to get out of here, but there was no way for him to escape. Something was coming here, and all he could do was wait. There would be no escape, not from this, not from this room, not ever.
Someone knocked.
"Breakfast!" a muffled voice called through the door.
The door creaked open. His legs trembled beneath him, though he knew he should have stayed calm. This could be his only chance to escape. There was no room for him to panic.
Instead of his father, a guard stepped through, a plate of food in his hands.
Before he could stop to think twice, Robin bolted past him.
"Hey!" the guard shouted. "Stop! Get back here!"
But Robin did not stop. He would not stop until he found a way out from this horrible dungeon. He rushed past startled servants and guards, rounding corners and barreling through doors in a frantic search for a window, or a doorway leading outside. Every turn he took, every room he entered looked completely strange to him.
When his father had taken him to that room, he had been sleeping, tired after days of travel. Now, he wished that he had stayed awake. If he had, maybe he'd know where he was headed right now.
He looked over his shoulder to see another guard join the first in the hallway. Their armor clanked as he ran after him, and with their longer legs they made quick progress toward him. Their longer reach, too, would snare him if he didn't think of something quick.
Another door opened before him. A pair of servants walked through, carrying two large buckets of fruit between them. Robin darted between them. Behind him, he heard cries and the sound of things tumbling to the ground as the unsuspecting pairs crashed into each other. Someone called for him to come back, but he was already through the next door.
The hallway he found himself in looked the same as the last. But that couldn't be true. If he kept sprinting, he would have to find his way out sooner or later. And so he did.
His path kept going on and on, and still, he ran. One of these turns, one of these doors had to lead outside. Where else would those servants go to find fruit?
"There he is!"
A guard jumped out from another hall to grab him. Robin threw himself to the side. The guard stumbled past him, and before he could turn around, Robin tore away.
Doors flew past him in a blur. Servants that crossed his path swerved out of his way. He could hear more people now, disturbed by the racket of the guards on his tail. Above them all, one voice rose, snarling and angry.
"What is going on?" his father yelled from somewhere nearby. A door in front of him opened, and to his horror, Robin caught a dark purple robe coming through.
He didn't want to die here.
Robin hurled himself around one last corner and pushed through the door in his way. Immediately, the lights brightened. He looked up, and finally, he saw a window just ahead. A clear blue sky waited for him on the other side.
Robin ran faster. Freedom was just within reach. Just a few more seconds and he would be out. If he fell, he could catch himself. If he tripped, there would be nothing he could do.
The door behind him burst open. Robin reached out to pull himself through.
A shape crashed into his side. Robin cried out as he slammed into the wall. He looked up to see who had stopped him. On the floor in front of him, the same girl who'd interrupted his last meeting with his father rubbed a hand through her pale pink hair with a groan.
Anger bubbled up in his throat. He had been so close to getting out, and this girl, this stupid girl had to get in his way. His fist clenched. He tried to stand up, maybe to jump away, maybe to bash her stupid face in, but when he tried to move, he found his arms stuck to his side.
A glowing purple coil wrapped tightly around him. He tried to slip free, but they refused to budge.
"Aversa!"
Robin flinched at the sharp tone of his father's voice. He glanced up. His father's face twisted into an angry scowl, but it wasn't aimed at him.
"Father!" the girl said. She raised her hand to pull herself up, but when she noticed the man's glare, she shrank.
"What do you think you're doing!" he yelled. "You should know to watch where you're going! You could have hurt someone!"
"But father, how was I supposed to know he was there?"
His father scowled. "I don't want to hear any excuses out of you. I thought I trained you to be above such petty things." As guards piled into the room, he spun to face them, and nodding toward Robin, he said, "Take him and follow me back to his room. It seems a private chat with my son is needed."
Robin shivered. As a guard picked by the collar and started to haul him away, a small part of him shouted at him to kick, to resist, to keep fighting, but one look at his father's icy gaze was enough for him to know it was pointless.
What punishment did his father have in store for him once he got back?
"Robin."
Robin refused to look up, burning holes through the floor with his glare as he gripped the bedsheets under him tighter.
"Robin," his father said again. "Why did you try to run away?"
Why did he try to run away? Because he hated him. Robin hated this man from the bottom of his heart, but he was never going to say it, so he kept his mouth shut and looked the other way.
"I won't hurt you," his father said.
Robin knew he was lying. He hadn't been like this at all the last time, so it had to be fake. This was all an act. With a huff, he moved away.
Thin, wiry fingers curled around his chin and pulled him back to face him. His father's nails dug into his skin, but Robin shut his eyes before his father could get a good look at him. If his father didn't look at him, then he wouldn't see how angry Robin was. How scared he was.
Seconds ticked by. His cheeks began to hurt, and tears pricked at his eyes, but he refused to let them open an inch.
At last, his father let him go and sighed. Robin's gaze was back on the floor the moment he did, glowering at it as if he could rip a hole through it to jump through, no matter how much he wished for it.
"I can see you won't talk." The bed shifted, and his father pushed himself off.
Robin's lips twitched up, but he forced them down. Whatever it was his father had wanted, Robin would never give it to him, even if he would still be punished for it.
Then, to his surprise, his father started toward the door.
Robin looked up. His eyes met his father's, and in an instant, Robin stilled.
"I'll leave you alone to think about what you've done," his father said, "but please, do not try to leave the room again. You're here for your own good."
And with that, he opened the door and walked through, leaving Robin very confused and angry.
This was for his own good? What part of this was good for him? It had to be a lie, there was no other explanation.
And who did he think he was, trying to act like he was his mother? Why was he so calm about this? Where was his anger? He acted so calm, like Robin really was his own child. But Robin would never love him like he had loved mother. That would never happen, not in a million years!
With an angry shout, Robin punched his pillow. He had no idea what was going on. He wanted to find out, but as long as he was here, he didn't think he would ever know.
Robin watched as his father dug his hand into a small pouch, pulled out a small, round candy, and offered it to him.
"Would you like a caramel?" he asked. "It's from my own supply, the finest in the kingdom."
"I don't want it!" Robin scowled, and he slapped his father's hand away.
His father's eyes slid over to the uneaten tray sitting at the table next to Robin's bed. He tusked, shaking his head. Robin imagined himself kicking the man so hard his legs broke.
"A young boy like yourself must eat to grow stronger," his father said, like he cared at all about what Robin ate.
Taking another candy out from his pouch, his father gently placed it on the desk. "Please, eat. It'll help keep you energized." After a moment's pause, he added, "It's quite sweet too, if those sorts of things are to your taste."
Again, his father stood up and left as soon as he was done. The door clicked shut behind him, and Robin waited until he was sure he was gone before he finally grabbed the candy from the desk and threw it into the fireplace. He watched as it burned, and the sweet, sugary fumes curled around the room and swirled up into the chimney.
His stomach growled. For a moment, a feeling of regret flickered in his chest, but like everything else, he pushed it back down. There was no way he was eating that. If he ate it, it would be like he was actually listening to something his father said, and he would rather starve than do that. Besides, it was probably poisoned, or designed to make him better to eat.
His stomach growled again. Sulking, Robin tore his gaze away from the fireplace. He couldn't deny that he was hungry, but what else was he supposed to do? Accept his father's present? Hah. Laughable.
He'd rather eat the garbage the other soldiers brought to his room than anything his father gave him.
"I've heard you like books," his father said.
Robin tore his eyes away from the foot of the bed just in time to see his father place down a stack of books on the table. The titles read "Shanty Pete and the Haunted Pirates" and "Wyvern Wars: A Knight's New Hope". Not at all anything Robin ever wanted to read.
"Who said that?" Robin growled. "I don't like books. I hate books."
His father's eyes narrowed. "I assumed someone as smart as you would enjoy an intelligent pastime as reading."
Smart? Robin's scowl grew, and he practically strangled the sheets in his grip. Only mother was allowed to say that!
"Well you're wrong!" he snapped. "I hate books!"
He wanted his father to flinch back. He wanted to see him hurt.
Instead, he just hummed. "I suppose I should just take them away, then."
"I don't care."
Robin watched as his father hauled the books off the table. He moved them up into his arms, and he turned toward the door. As he moved to open it, though, he stopped to throw a long look back at Robin.
"What?" Robin asked, annoyed that he still hadn't left.
"Nothing," his father replied. "You just remind me of your mother."
His mother? What... how did he think he could say that? He'd killed his mother! He couldn't say stuff like that!
Robin opened his mouth to yell back at him, but the door shut in his face before he could speak a word.
His father was a strange, strange man. Robin hated him, and he was afraid of him. But now, he confused him. And Robin did not like being confused.
Mother always told him to never talk to strangers. He never wanted to speak to his father again. But if he did, then he'd never find out what that was about.
Aversa's father always told her that everything was earned. If she wanted something, only hard work would get her it. She wanted to be strong enough to stand at her father's side, so she'd worked hard to get strong.
Which was why, when she saw her father walk out of that boy's room again, she couldn't understand it at all.
What made that boy so special that her father had decided to spend time with him instead of her? What had he done to deserve that privilege? He didn't spend his life working to earn her father's attention. It made absolutely no sense.
"Aversa."
His voice cut through the silence like a crossbow bolt through her heart, and Aversa sucked in a breath. The temperature in the room dropped, and faintly, she remembered the last time her father had spoken to her here. Maybe if she stayed still, he would ignore her.
"I know you're there," he said, his voice low. "Why won't you speak up?"
She swallowed. "Sorry, father," she replied. "I... I didn't mean to... to come here."
"Of course not."
Aversa winced at her father's tone. She took a step back. "Sorry father," she said again. "I'm not supposed to be here, am I?"
"You are not."
"I'll be leaving now." She started to turn away, but her father raised a hand.
"No," he said, softly, gently. "Please, stay." Slowly, he turned around, fixing her with his red-eyed gaze.
Swallowing again, Aversa did as she was told.
"Everyone does something for a reason." Her father smiled. "Tell me, what is your reason for being here?"
"I... I wanted to talk to you."
"About what?"
Nervously, Aversa looked away. "It can wait."
"I'm in no hurry. Please," he spread his arms wide, "enlighten me."
"I... I..." Aversa clenched her fists. She hesitated, a thousand ways to ask her question tumbling through her head. At last, she settled on, "Why are you here?"
"Why am I here?"
Aversa shook her head. "Why do you keep coming here? Why don't you ever come to see me?"
"Must I always repeat myself?" Validar asked flatly. "I'm busy. This boy, he is important to our cause. It is imperative that I attend to him."
"More important than me?"
"Yes. He is."
His answer was instant. It hurt to hear it. That right now, she meant so little. He would come back to her, she knew that, but she wanted his time now!
She wanted to cross her arms and huff. She wanted to stomp away, show him how angry she was, and maybe, if he saw that, he would change his mind.
"Okay," was all she managed to whisper out.
Her feet wouldn't move. She willed them to take her back to her room, but they refused to. Silently, she cursed her stubborn feet.
"Aversa."
Again, Aversa snapped up. For a moment, she thought he might change her mind. Maybe he had seen how frustrated she was. Maybe he'd realized his mistake.
"I've told you before," he said, "that everything is earned. My time is the same." His lips pulled into a scowl. "If you want something, you must earn it. There are no exceptions to that rule."
Then, he turned and walked away, leaving Aversa to stare at his retreating form.
Earn his time? Why now? What had she done to deserve this?
She turned her head to the sky. A breath rushed out her lips, one she didn't even know she'd been holding. All her anger drained with that one breath, leaving her with nothing to hold her up but her own two legs.
Why can't things go back to normal? she thought.
Slowly, she forced herself around, and she trudged back to her room.
The chapters a little later than I'd like it to be, but some stuff came up a few weeks ago that pushed back my schedule quite a bit. I've been getting quite a bit of snow where I live, and thankfully the school did decide to lay off on us a bit and give us a day off to shovel snow and stuff. All the snow's quite fitting, considering where the story's going after this little intermission ends.
Anyway, that's all I've got for this note at the end. If everything goes smoothly, I'll hopefully be able to update by March 7th. Until then, I wish you all well, and stay safe!