Content Warnings: Strong language, adult themes, mentions of physical and s*xual assault. Read with caution.
Dipper did not know exactly how long it had been since Bill had left the dungeon. Time would have been hard enough to tell had their been any windows in his cell, but there was only a small rectangular hole in the top corner of the room that led into a small black tunnel no wider than a man's wrist that fed clean - or at least cleaner - air into the dank cell.
He kept his head down in his arms, pillowed by the torn and dirty sleeves of his suit jacket, and listened to the steady drip, drip, drip of water somewhere down the dark corridor. He sniffed loudly a few times and rubbed his cheek against his sleeve.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
The sound was maddening. The steady, repetitive tapping against the rough stone altogether too loud. It had been hours of dripping, and skidding metal shoes, and echoes of sounds far above him in the castle, and his own panicked thoughts ringing in his ears. Maddening.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
He pulled his head from his arms and fell sideways onto the ground. His hands came up to tangle in his hair, palms pressed hard over his ears.
"Be quiet," he muttered. His throat felt scratchy and tight. He pinched his eyes shut and pulled his knees close to his chest.
Drip.
"Be quiet!" He hissed out.
Hot tears spilled out of his closed eyes and fell sideways down his cheeks and over the bridge of his nose. He couldn't breath. All at once he was back in the box in the back of the wagon.
His fingers pulled hard at his hair and he sobbed. It was suffocating. He sat up quickly, his bleary eyes unable to focus on anything around him.
"Let me out!" He shouted, his voice cracking hard. His whole body shook with his sobs. He couldn't breath. The cell felt far too small. He punched one hand forward into the stone wall in front of him, if only to see that his hands weren't bound like he felt they were. He felt the skin of his knuckles tear on the rough stone and he punched again with the other hand. "Let me out!" He screamed again.
He collapsed forward against the cold stone and pressed his forehead against the stone, panting hard.
He heard the loud thudding of boots approaching down the corridor. They stopped suddenly and were followed by shout of "be quiet!" that made Dipper jump hard.
Dipper pushed off the wall and spun to face the guard. He clenched his hands hard around the bars. He looked wild. Tears smudging the dirt down his cheeks, eyes red, hair wild and tangled, clothes torn and askew. "I said, let me out!" Dipper screamed once more.
The guard stepped forward quickly with a scowl. He slammed a gloved hand against the bars, causing Dipper to scurry backwards to the wall. The guard glowered at him for a moment before letting out a derisive scoff.
"Not so tough, are ya?" The guard mocked. He had a gruff and scratchy voice that sounded like sandpaper in Dipper's ears. Dipper tried his best to return the man's glare, but he felt so small with the man in front of him. The guard leaned in close to the bars and Dipper shifted again trying to press himself further into the wall. "Pathetic little thing," he spat.
Dipper felt a pang of hurt in his chest.
The guard scoffed again. "No wonder he keeps ya around. So pathetic that I bet ya don't even put up a fight when that prince of yers takes ya, do ya?"
He felt the color rise in his cheeks. "Shut up!" Dipper spat back, leaning just slightly forward.
The man grabbed the bars with both hands and leaned forward. "You've got some nerve," he growled.
"You've got nerve, kid." Dipper thought he was going to vomit. The guard wasn't in front of him anymore; in his place Dipper saw the man at the well. He could feel the heat of the fire. Smell the smoke billowing out of the church steeple. Feel the man's fist splitting his lip. His breath quickened and he pressed himself back into the wall.
The guard watched him with a glower for a moment before letting out another derisive scoff that pulled Dipper back to the present. "Thought so." The guard pushed off the bars and took a few steps backwards. He pulled out a short blade from a leather loop on his belt and brandished it in the flickering torch light. He waited a moment, as if making sure Dipper got a good look at the blade. "Now keep yer mouth shut or I'll give ya something to squeal about. Got that?"
Dipper nodded slowly. The man held Dipper's gaze for a moment before scoffing once more and sliding the blade back into the leather loop and turning around. Dipper sat still and listened to the receding thud of the guards boots back down the dark corridor.
He waited a moment until the footsteps quieted before he finally felt like he could breath again. His body suddenly wracked with sobs and he huddled his knees to his chest once more and punched his eyes shut. He rubbed a hand against his eyes and the salty tears stung the torn skin of his knuckles.
"Bill," he whispered into the pillow of his sleeves, "I'm so-." Hic. "I'm sorry." His throat felt scratchy and tight, the stone behind him was cold and rough on his back. "I kn-know you said don't be afraid." Hic. "I'm tr-trying, I promise." He took a shaky exhale and looked around at the small, dark cell. "I'm trying."
Drip. Drip. Drip.
Bill paced one length of the room to the other, just as he had the night before, for the tenth time in as many minutes.
A tray of food and a glass of water lay ignored on the coffee table in the seating area clearly intended to be his lunch. It had been sitting untouched for the better part of two hours, but Bill had no interest in eating.
"Has Dipper eaten?" He had asked Pacifica when they had arrived back to his room and he had noticed the food.
"I..." Pacifica seemed almost surprised by the question. Bill had said nothing to her since they'd left the dungeon. "I am not sure. I'll have something sent down to him, but I don't think-."
"Good." He had cut her off and started to shut the door on her. He couldn't stand to look at her a moment longer.
"Wait!" She caught the door before it shut and pushed it back open.
Bill glared at her through the space in the door. She looked back over her shoulder for a moment at the guards in the hallway before lowering her voice to a whisper.
"I..." She looked on the verge of tears but Bill couldn't bring himself to feel bad for her. Her voice was shaking as she whispered, "a maid is going to be coming by to get the empty tray later. Be sure you let her in."
Bill furrowed his brow. "What are you-?" He was cut off by her quickly closing the door on him. Moments later the lock slid shut and he was left alone. He fumed quietly for a moment before kicking the door hard and turning away from it. "What's the point in telling me that?" He gritted out into the empty room.
That was almost two hours ago.
Since then, Bill had paced and stewed in near silence as his anger, sadness, and frustration steadily built. The quiet only interrupted by Bill's occasional angry outburst directed either to the empty room or to the guards outside the door. He never received a response. He paced from the French doors to the wardrobe and back again, looking out the window over the courtyard. He watched groundskeepers milling between the hedges for a moment before looking away with a sigh. He trudged over to the seating area and dropped heavily into one of the chairs. The room was so quiet.
Bill only then realized how used to Dipper's presence he had become in the past few days. Without him there, the room felt suffocatingly empty. He wanted so badly to see Dipper walk through the door. To make a joke, pull a face, or even yell at him in anger. Anything.
He tipped his head back against the cushion of the chair, closed his eyes, and sighed once more. He pulled his feet up into the chair and turned to the side and drifted in and out of a restless sleep.
The silence of the room was broken by a soft knock on the door that made him jump. The knock was quickly followed by the lock being slid open and the door opened. Bill stood quickly as a maid pushing an empty serving cart entered the room. He regarded her for a moment before the door was shut once more, although this time he did not hear the lock being replaced.
She pushed the cart towards the seating area before looking over her shoulder at the closed door. She looked up at the prince with a determined expression that Bill recognized nearly instantly.
"I don't have much time," she said.
"Pacifica?! What are you-?"
The princess stepped forward and clapped a hand over his mouth quickly. "Be quiet," she hissed. She looked warily at the door for a moment before concluding that the guards outside had not heard her. She looked back at the prince before removing her hand slowly. "I need you to listen to me. Understand?"
Bill hesitated a moment, looking her up and down warily. She was wearing a long, simple black dress with a white frilled apron laid over the top. Her long blonde hair was pulled up into a tight bun and partially obscured by a white bonnet. She wore no makeup or fine jewels. If Bill had not known, he never would have guessed her to be the princess he knew her to be.
He nodded slowly before taking a step back from her.
She pushed past him and began taking the trays of food from the table and stacking them onto the cart. "They wouldn't let me see you again, I had to find another way," she explained quickly, "I borrowed these clothes from my maid but someone will notice I am not in my room any minute now."
"Not like I wanted to see you again," Bill huffed and crossed his arms over his chest.
"Just listen," Pacifica hissed back at him as she dropped another tray heavily on the cart with a clatter. "We don't have the time to argue about this. Dipper doesn't have the time."
Bill's shoulders dropped a moment from their defiant position. "What..." he swallowed hard, "what are you saying?"
Pacifica wiped her hands against her apron hurriedly before stepping a little closer and lowering her voice again. "I know I have hurt you, and you have no reason to trust me, but I... you deserve to know." Her forehead was wrinkled with worry and her voice was shaking. She was wringing the hem of her apron in her hands. "They..." she stopped a moment and swallowed hard. "They aren't going to release him when we're married."
"What?!" Bill gritted out between his teeth, he tried hard to keep his voice down. He began to pace in small circles with his hands balled by his sides. "That wasn't the deal. They promised-."
"Well they lied!" Pacifica strained. She began to speak very quickly as Bill moved rapidly in front of her. "I heard our parents speaking after lunch, they didn't know I was listening. They know you aren't going to give up on staying with Dipper, so while we are away on honeymoon they plan on... on... I never meant for any of this to happen!" Her bottom lip quivered and she covered her mouth with a hand.
Bill crossed to her quickly and took hold of her shoulders. "Pacifica, listen to me," he shook her slightly until she looked up at him with watery eyes. He took a leveling breath and softened his grip. "If you ever had any affection for me, please, you have to help us."
She looked up at him sadly for a moment before speaking with a voice just above a whisper. "You really... you really do love him... don't you?" Heavy tears fell down her cheeks and dripped off her chin. She laughed pitifully before wiping a hand across her eyes. "I should have known... someone like me... you could never..."
"Pacifica, I..." Bill let out a heavy exhale and shook his head.
She held up a hand and wiped her eyes once more with the other. "No," she hushed softly and looked up at him once more. "It doesn't matter now." The shake slowly left her voice and she took a step back from him out of his grasp. She cast a glance towards the door before reaching into her apron pocket and pulling out a sealed envelope and holding it out to him. "We have to help Dipper get home."
"What is...?" Bill flipped the envelope over in his hands. There was no writing on it and it was sealed on the front with red wax. It was heavy.
"Open it once I've gone," Pacifica stepped back behind the cart and began to push it towards the door. She looked over her shoulder at the prince before nodding solemnly. "Read it carefully, understand? Dipper's life may depend on it."
Before Bill could respond, Pacifica had knocked on the door and it was opened quickly after. She lowered her head and stepped out into the hall. He watched her push the cart past the guards and out of sight before the door was shut and locked once more. He looked down at the envelope in his hands before sitting down in the nearest chair and tearing it open.
Inside it was several folded sheets of parchment. He began to pull them out and unfolded each of them carefully.
The first was a map that had been crudely torn from a book evidenced by the rough tear on the left side of the page. He scanned over the image on the map and found the Northwest castle marked with a rough circle in black ink. He followed a trail of dashed marks that led northward along winding roads into the thick pine forests of the northern territory. Nestled among the small drawings of tree was a scratched out "X" beneath the letters "G.F." At the top of the page, written in Pacifica's hand, were the words "I got your letter." Bill's hands began to shake as he looked over the map.
He set it down on the table in front of him before pulling the next piece of parchment out of the envelope and unfolding it. It was a smaller piece of paper that was written in a handwriting that Bill did not recognize. On the back was the Northwest family crest beside another crest of a Black Bear with an axe behind it; Bill recognized it as the sigil of the Corduroy house, one of the Northwest kingdom's sworn swords. It appeared to only be a piece of a message, as it was ripped at the top edge and it began at the middle of a sentence.
In rough script it read, "... a majority of the southern edge of the village was destroyed in the fires. Scouts report that the smugglers fled through the mountains to the southeast. Two villagers were killed, another twelve were injured, the village shaman reports one missing."
"Dipper!" Bill thought quickly before beginning to scan through the rest of the message.
"As of now, no evidence of their whereabouts can be ascertained. We request two wagons of stone, two wagons of wood, and food be sent North to assist in aid." It was signed in rough script by the captain of the guard and followed by another imprint of the Corduroy sigil.
"This must be in reference to the attack on Dipper's village." Bill set the paper scrap down beside the map and pulled the next piece of parchment from the envelope. This paper was in Pacifica's handwriting, though it looked as if it was written in haste. It was small and torn at an odd angle.
It said, "at midnight go to the balcony and look for the lantern. Stay quiet. Tell no one. Pack light."
Bill read and re-read it several times with a furrowed brow. Clearly it was meant to be instructions, but there was very little in the way of detail. Bill set the paper down onto the table and sat back against the couch with a sigh. "What if this is another trick?" He thought bitterly. "But then again, why would she bother telling me if it was?" He pinched his nose between two fingers and sighed again.
He sat back up and shuffled through each of the papers he had pulled from the envelope. In the process, the envelope slid from the table and landed on the tile floors with a small thunk. Bill looked at the envelope curiously for a moment before picking it up. As he did, something shifted inside with a metallic sound. He tipped it over so that the contents spilled into his other hand and he gasped.
It was Dipper's ring. He looked at it in his palm for a moment before he noticed the small piece of paper fastened to the chain with a small length of ribbon. He tugged on the ribbon to pull the paper lose and turned it over in his hand.
In Pacifica's handwriting the small tag said, "keep your promise."