Les Misérables
Summary: After studying about the dark past of surrounding kingdoms, Tanya asks Cedric and Sofia if any other kingdom ever had the same level of darkness. This leads to a very unexpected story, filled with despair, hope, severed and forged bonds, and preventable demise. Read Me a Story format! (Takes place 5 years after my season 5 stories)
Disclaimer: I don't own Sofia the First. I own Corban and some other OCs mentioned here. MarionetteJ2X owns Tanya and Nana.
Chapter 5: A Promise Made
Lorelei was currently sleeping in a hospital bed, with a few nurses tending to her. The prognosis wasn't good at all. Given her severe malnourishment, underlying illnesses, and pure exhaustion, everything had stacked against her in the worst ways possible. Still, Roland was assured that the medical staff would do everything possible to help her. With little else to do or say, he reluctantly left the hospital to return home.
The next morning, as he was on his way to check in with his factory business, Roland heard a loud sound off to the side. Turning, he noticed a speeding and seemingly out-of-control horse and buggy rushing straight toward an unsuspecting older gentleman, who was likely hard of hearing since he had yet to react to the impending danger at all. "Look out!" Roland cried, throwing himself in front of the man.
Baileywick, who was on duty nearby, chatting with a few fellow investigators, heard the man's voice and turned, his eyes narrowing. For a minute, he could have sworn Lord Carlisle's voice sounded a lot like… He shook his head, muttering to himself, "It can't be." But then he noticed the cart and Roland's position before the older man, and he decided to watch and see…
Holding out his hands, Roland firmly grasped the reins of the horse, stopping the animal firmly in his tracks, the cart collapsing onto its side behind him, spilling out all the contents. The mayor panted, matching the heavy breathing of the clearly frightened old man behind him, who was constantly repeating his gratitude for interfering and saving his life.
"I'm so sorry, Lord Carlisle!" a merchant exclaimed, hurrying up to Roland and bowing apologetically. "My horse, Gaspar, he took off when something spooked him, and I could not stop him."
"It's all right…" Roland smiled patiently, though he noticed out of the corner of his eye how Baileywick was staring at him with a heavy glare of suspicion. "Um, here. Let me… Let me help you pick up your produce." He turned to the old man, clasping his shoulder. "Are you all right, sir?"
He nodded. "Thank you, Lord Carlisle. You're always so gracious to your people."
Feeling a little embarrassed by the kind words, Roland smiled shyly. "It… It was nothing. Just be more careful, okay?"
Baileywick tapped his chin, humming. Lord Carlisle certainly had similar mannerisms to 24601, but he didn't quite look the same as he expected. Sure, the years could change someone's appearance, but he would have had to change quite a bit. Not to mention—where did he get the money to become so wealthy, not to mention the mayor of the City of Zodia? The former prisoner had been as poor as a mouse caught in a trap. For him to manage such a feat in such a short time…
"Excuse me, Inspector," a younger man said, interrupting Baileywick's thoughts as he approached and handed him a dossier. "I thought you might find this interesting. You're always talking about this man, after all."
"Oh?" Baileywick opened the file and gasped, reading briskly over the heavy ink and the sketch attached to the file.
Suspect:
Roland Winslow
Prison Number:
24601
Original Sentence:
Life (Served 19 Years)
Reason(s) for Re-Capture:
Violation of Parole
Theft
Magic Laundering
Magic laundering… That was a thing now? Even to Baileywick, he couldn't help the questionable charge. Granted, Roland had "been gifted" Master Merlin's wand all those years ago, but… Perhaps he'd used it for ill intent, like dark magic or something. That would not surprise him in the least.
He closed the file, never noticing that the real Roland nearby had his eyes trained on him. "Are you sure it's 24601?"
"It looks just like him, is what the judge says, sir," the young man told him enthusiastically. "You've been asked to come to his trial immediately. He's probably going to be executed by hanging in the square!"
Roland wasn't fond of how excited that kid seemed about an execution, especially one that was meant for him. And now he had a crisis on his hands… On one hand, it appeared he had a doppelgänger who was standing trial for his own alleged crimes. As it was, the other man could meet a fate that would have befallen him, and he could carry on with his life as always. On the other hand, it wasn't in his nature to let an innocent person die on his behalf. Baileywick had made it very clear that he wanted justice, and justice to him would be to rid the world of 24601, whether the person charged for the crimes was him or not…
The mayor sighed, tugging at a few locks of his hair. He was conflicted in more ways than one, but one thing was for sure. He couldn't—wouldn't—allow someone to die on his behalf. His mind made up, he rushed to the courts.
The man standing before the judge did indeed look very similar to Roland, except his style of dress was far less pristine, and his hair looked a few shades darker. His cheeks were also a bit more hollow, giving him a worn expression. Suffice it to say, had it been only a matter of years ago, he would have looked more like the "old Roland," so it was easy to see why the mistake had been made. As it was, the mysterious stranger only stood with his head low, all hope drained from his visage and stance. Denying his identity had done nothing for him, and when the judge made up his mind… There was nothing else to say. "Justice" these days was questionable at best, and cruel at worst.
"Roland Winslow, formerly and currently known as Prisoner #24601," the judge began, "I hereby sentence you to—"
"Stop!" Roland called out as he entered the room, startling the judge, his lookalike, the surrounding observers, and even Baileywick. "You're making a grave mistake, Judge."
"Lord Carlisle, with all due respect—" The older man couldn't even finish his statement as Roland held his hand up.
"I am Roland Winslow." Lifting his sleeve and turning his arm, he held it up for the court to see. In nearly faded ink, a tattoo of his prison number was still etched into his skin. "I demand you release this man. He's innocent."
Baileywick clenched his teeth, frowning. "I knew it…" He turned to the guards near him. "Arrest him!"
Roland managed to release the wrongfully accused man before ducking by the guards, narrowly avoiding them as he lost himself in the crowd. He hurried away from the courts, rushing off to the one place they would likely not look for him, at least for now: the hospital.
When he arrived, Roland entered Lorelei's private room, shutting and locking the door behind him. He shed his jacket, nearly collapsing against the wall, when he heard a soft whimper from the frail woman on her bed. While he tried to control his breathing and pounding heart, he moved over to Lorelei, sinking next to her.
He reached out to her hand, his fingers gently caressing hers. She was very much out of it, her lips trembling as she stared vacantly upward. "I wish things had been different for you," he whispered, pausing his hand over hers. "I do remember you, Lorelei… I remember hearing that you were a hard worker, despite your circumstances. You were always described as lovely and soft-spoken, the treasured long blonde hair and caring eyes…" He reached up to her head, brushing the shaven skin there, his heart sinking a bit when he realized she must have either sold her hair for money, or been attacked… Or both… "If only we'd met sooner, then maybe we could have…"
"Amber," Lorelei whispered, a lone tear rolling down her cheek.
"Who is Amber, Lori?" Roland asked, unconsciously allowing himself to assign her a nickname. Maybe it was a desire to make her feel comforted in her very obvious last hours of life…
"My daughter…" She breathed in shakily, finally making eye contact with the mayor. "My life… She lives with Nigel Wilkinson and his wife Cordelia… An innkeeper couple…" She coughed once, not realizing blood was trickling from her mouth. She sighed as Roland grabbed a cloth, dabbing her skin with it. "I sent them money to care for her, but now I'll never see her again…"
Roland knew those names well. Nigel was a con artist, someone he'd run into a few times in the past. If he was right, the other man had only taken the child in to get the money. He'd honestly be surprised if Lorelei's daughter was still alive at this point. That's how little he trusted Nigel's abilities as a "caretaker." Still, he wanted to give the fading woman some hope, so he did the only thing he could. "Lorelei," he began, brushing his fingers over her cheek, "I'll find her. I promise you that I'll find Amber and take care of her, like she's my own daughter…"
She shuddered, but a soft smile appeared on her lips. "You would…be a good father, sir…"
"Roland," he insisted, taking her hand again.
"Roland," she repeated, her eyes growing heavy. "Th-Thank you…" Relieved with his words to her, yet feeling incredibly weak, she closed her eyes. "I'm going to… Rest now…"
Roland stayed with her until her breathing had ceased. She died staring into empty space, so he reached up and carefully closed her eyes, placing her hands over her chest in a crossed manner. "Rest easily, Lorelei… You deserve it." He hardly had time to fathom what had just happened when he heard the door rattling.
The door was knocked off its hinges, and Baileywick stepped through the door, a sword in his hand as two powerful-looking guards stood back. The inspector glowered at Roland. "Slowly lift your hands in your spot," he began, his voice much lower than usual, "so that I can arrest you properly, as suits the beloved mayor of Zodia."
"Baileywick, please," Roland began, his tone more pleading than afraid, an unfamiliar sincerity falling from his lips, "give me a few days. This woman has a daughter who is in the clutches of a wicked man. Just let me rescue her and get her to a good home, and then you can arrest me. I promise you."
"Do you really think I believe you?" the inspector scoffed. "The words of a criminal mean nothing to me. And you using a dead woman's alleged daughter as a scapegoat is sickening, even for you!"
"It's not alleged—it's the truth!"
"You don't know the meaning of that word, 24601. That would mean you've changed, and men like you don't change. You can't be redeemed. So, kindly turn yourself in so I can go about my day."
Roland frowned, and instead of doing as he was asked, he calmly began to leave instead. He yelped as Baileywick attacked him, knocking him to the floor, his sword pointing precariously at his face.
"Don't you dare move," Baileywick warned, but he was caught off guard when Roland swiftly knocked him off his feet and onto the floor, his sword ripped painfully from his hand, especially as his fingers were nearly bent backwards in the process. "Ahh!" He gasped when Roland now had the upper hand, his own blade hovering over his heart. "Go ahead," he taunted, scowling. "Don't be a coward."
"I'm not a coward, and though I'm not a good man… I'm not a murderer either." He threw the sword aside, lodging it into the wooden slats of the wall. "If I'd wanted to kill you, I would have. I've changed though, and the rest of my life will be spent taking care of one who can't take care of herself: a little girl whose mother died trying to save and protect her."
"Being a 'saintly' person won't erase your crimes, and you can't change immediately. I doubt you'll ever change!"
Roland smiled, nodding. "Agreed… You're probably right… But I made this woman a promise, and I intend to keep it. Chase me down if you must, but I like to keep my promises. This is one I don't plan to break." With little else to say, he turned and fled from the scene, leaving Baileywick behind as the two guards helped him to his feet.
"Do you want us to pursue him, sir?" one of the guards asked.
"No, no," Baileywick responded, shaking his head. "This is between him and me. It always has been." He walked over to his sword, withdrawing it from the wall. "It always will be…"
To be continued…
Next Chapter: Hidden Angel
