So, we now have as many chapters as an actual Winx season!
There was only one real way to describe the situation Gantlos had found himself in. Seeing as how that way involved a scream of primal rage and frustration, it would have been eminently sensible to repress it and simply describe the situation as 'frustrating at best'.
Gantlos had found himself in two prisons in six months, nothing about this man was sensible.
Guards flinched as they locked up the cell, though they all knew there was nothing Gantlos's rage could do to them, not now, not powerless and caged. It only made him scream louder.
As the catharsis of the outburst began to pass, he felt the frustration spreading, spreading down his body, a restless fury that refused to be dispelled. His muscles tensed, puppets to his ire, and he drove his fist into the hard stone wall keeping him locked up like an animal. Blood trickled down his knuckles, down the spiderweb cracks, likely still hot with the anger that boiled it.
Panting hard, staring at the bloodied new scene on his wall, Gantlos waited to feel better. To feel calmer, to feel the release of pressure. But it still built, hot and painful in his chest, coaxing him, urging him to lash out again, whispering empty promises of relief, of calm, if he'd only strike again, grant a path for his angry from his body to the wall, like electricity being earthed, just hit, just rage, it'd all be better in just a moment if he'd just give in…
Anagan wasn't in the cell to stop him. He gave in.
Blood, screams and sweat intermingled, until finally, he felt his voice start to strain. Crack. Break. He gasped for air, lungs flailing to draw breath as he dropped to his knees, shaking and spent. His rage still burned just as hot within him, having taken everything he had to give it, exhausting him beyond further release, to simply sit and suffer through the anger he didn't know how to let go. He was caged, locked behind bars like some misbehaving animal waiting to be put down, and not a shred of his strength could help him. Even after unleashing all his furious might on the wall, all he'd wrought were bloodied veins spreading across the stone, little cracks and tiny valleys, not even crossing the mortared border between the stones. The full force of his fury, and the wall had borne it. Taken it like a true warrior, stood tall and stood strong, unbothered and unconcerned for its strength and safety. It had stood strong, endured, through countless prisoners, through countless mighty brought low, what was this new, feisty little wizard, beating at it and screaming as though possessed?
Nothing.
He was nothing.
Finally, finally spent, Gantlos fell to the side, laying down on the cool, hard floor, panting. A rock dug into his spine, but he was too exhausted to move it. One could call his outburst unproductive, but, locked in a cell, what was he meant to produce? His life didn't have a purpose or goal anymore, reduced to a rat in a cage until he died. What a cruel practice for the side of the purportedly 'good' to uphold. Why not simply slice through his neck with an axe and be done with all this, rather than leaving him to lie on the floor, watching his remaining days trickle away, each less significant than the last.
'Gantlos…' He could hear the worry in Anagan's voice as it echoed off the stone, meandering its way to him through the bars. He grimaced. His cell wasn't a sound vacuum, his entire fit had been broadcast to every cell in this dungeon. He wondered if any hardened criminals had heard it and quaked, wondering what beast they'd been imprisoned with.
'Gantlos, are you okay?' Anagan asked, and Gantlos took a few moments to think it over.
'…No.' Wasn't much point in lying, was there? And Anagan wasn't in the cell to force him to talk about it, so he wasn't all that worried about catalysing a mental health discussion.
Anagan was silent, seeming thrown by the answer. Gantlos's usual brush off went along the lines 'I'm fine' or 'stop worrying about me'. An actual admission of something being wrong…well, that was an occurrence about as common as a total eclipse. Of the three suns of Solaria.
'…Do you want to talk-'
'No.' Gantlos's voice was swift, harsh, crushing any suggestion of discussion under the heel of his boot. He didn't want to talk about this.
Lying on the floor, staring up at the cracks on the ceiling, for the first time he wondered: what had he done? The right thing, he knew it was the right thing, Ogron couldn't have gone back to Neruman, none of them could, not unless they'd sought to be buried side by side in unmarked graves, spirits driven mad from pain, but…he'd condemned them all to this fate in his split-second choice to beg - oh god, he'd begged - Stella to destroy Neruman's communication. And now they were prisoners, prisoners for life.
Technically, if one was the sort of person to seek a positive spin on things, then…the cells were at least an improvement on Omega. He could breathe, he could move…but Gantlos had never put a positive spin on something in his life. A cell was a cell, whether it froze you solid or sealed you in stone, whether you could breathe or felt your lungs screaming for respite, for salvation. Any place that held you, that kept you from your freedom, that rendered you so powerless that nobody but your captors would ever hear your cries…they were all prisons, and he hated them all equally. Besides, at least Omega stopped him ripping his hands open in a rage. Because…not that he'd ever admit this, but owwwwwwww…the hell had he managed to do to his hands? …Again?
He checked them over. Yup…bloody and torn…
'What the hell is wrong with you…' he muttered, echoing the words he'd heard from Duman every time he'd managed to hurt himself in anger. That wall didn't do shit to you, and neither did your hands. You got a damn problem, tell me about it, I'll tell you how to fix it, or at least stop you tearing yourself apart, dumbass.
A quick, sharp inhale, pressing emotions back with stale dungeon air. He wasn't having a Duman meltdown, not down here, not when guards might see him. The day he got a pitying look from a guard…well, that would be the day he'd punch the wall until he had a chunk of stone big enough to club himself to death with.
He didn't have much else to occupy his mind with, so he simply let himself detach from his thoughts, drifting through half-formed ideas and visions, his gaze fixed hazily on the stone above him the whole time, like a beacon, a depressing, heart-wrenching beacon…
'…The hell?' He paused. A nudging. A soft, insistent nudging on his hand. Nothing else was in the cell with him- oh god, was it a rat?! Gross gross gross!!!
He bolted upright, feeling humiliation colour his cheeks as he saw it wasn't a rat at all. Just that damned cat again, looking up at him as though he might have a few screws loose.
Oh god…had he just had a freak out over rats? Rats? Ugh… He'd just…what with Roxy having buried him under a horde of them once…he could feel their cold little claws, scurrying all over him, gross!
He had to shudder, shaking off the sensation. The cat stayed still, flicking its tail lazily, eyes half lidded as it observed him.
'…The hell do you want?' No response. Of course not, it was a damn cat. 'I don't have any food for you. Go bother the guards, or Stella, or murder a mouse, leave me alone.'
It just stared back at him, blinking slowly as though settling in until he calmed down. Or started giving it belly rubs. Well, neither of those things were happening.
'Fine. Sit there. You're gonna be bored.' He sat down on the bed, tearing up the blanket without a second thought to bandage his hands. He didn't care if he wrecked the blanket, it wasn't his, and he wasn't gonna cuddle up under it anyway. He'd resigned himself to 'settling in' a bit when Anagan had been there to make him, and when Ogron had needed to see him do it, but now, there was nobody making him accept anything that made him acknowledge his prisoner status. He'd be sleeping on the floor, if at all.
The cat, meanwhile, wasn't taking no for an answer. It hopped up next to him, swatting at the strips of fabric like they were playing a game.
'No. Those are my bandages.'
It cocked its head, as though saying it was certain bandages were soft and white. This was a blanket. A raggedy blanket by now, that most certainly would now no longer cover his feet.
'Well, I'm using them as bandages,' he snapped. 'Not like I can call a doctor.' Well, maybe he could, Luna might help again, but he wasn't doing that. No way in hell. Wounds healed, and a bandage was just a strip of fabric. Just like he'd fashioned here.
He tied the bandages off, nodding approvingly at his handiwork. Not bad…not great, some blood was seeping through, but not bad.
'See? Bandages.' Oh dear god, was he talking to the cat? Tell him he wasn't talking to the cat…
The cat meowed, letting him know he was, in fact, talking to a cat.
'…I was talking to myself. Really.'
Amber eyes blinked at him.
'Go away. I'm not about to spend my eternity of imprisonment being bothered by a cat.'
It still just opted to sit there like a little lump of furry ignorance. Well, fine. If it was going to ignore his wishes, he was just going to ignore it. How hard could it be?
The cat was on his face. It was on his face. He'd leaned back against the wall to try and think and lost himself in musings and simmering anger for a while, maybe an hour or so, and then…the little thing had clambered up him and was now lounging on his face like he was a deckchair.
'What the literal fu- get off!' He plucked it from himself and dropped it to the floor. He'd have considered throwing it, but then the guards might intervene. They probably doted on the thing, as people often did.
'Don't ever do that again. I am not a jungle gym!' Only one cat had ever been permitted to come and climb on him in such a way, and that had been Duman, in cat form, the fluffy little form he often used to cheer them up, or to claw up the furniture if it was just looking a little too pristine. This cat was no Duman. For one: it was orange. For two, it was annoying. It had no right to bother him, least of all when he was trying to plot an escape.
Yes, escape. Leaving now was insane as hell, he knew that. If they walked out of this dungeon while Neruman was out there, with no magic to protect them, they'd be dead within the day. He wasn't stupid, they had to stay here until Neruman was dead. But Ogron had practically handed the Winx Neruman on a silver platter. As much as he still despised the girls, they'd demonstrated their competence in battle. If they could take down him and his friends, they could take down an old recluse whose powers relied entirely on hiding behind others. Without his slaves, Neruman was just a whisper of a being in a cloak, as soon as the Winx got to the Dark Dimension, they'd be able to kill him.
It galled Gantlos no end that he hadn't done so himself. If he'd known what Neruman would do the first time he'd seen the man, he'd have lunged and choked him to death then and there. Then maybe all this would have been avoided… If he'd killed Neruman that day, what would have happened to them? They'd have slain the master of a castle, a castle nobody knew about, a castle filled with ancient power…oh, it made him ache to think of it. They'd have regained their power, slowly but surely, and eventually, been strong enough to leave and take revenge on the fairies, on the specialists, oh, how he wanted to end those gogo-booted immature knights…who knew what they'd done to Duman before destroying him…why had he ever handed Duman to them? What was wrong with him?
'The hell was I thinking…?' Well, he'd been thinking he hardly had much of a choice here…if he argued to stay with Duman, it could have jeopardised the trial, though he'd likely have been made to go anyway. Putting Duman in the fight at the trial would have been mad, and Gantlos would never have been brought to Gardenia, Morgana would have been livid and they might have lost their one shot.
He almost wondered if they should have just…just genuinely surrendered. He would do it, now, for Duman, but it hadn't crossed his mind at the time. The idea of willingly submitting to capture, to whatever torture the fairies would have surely put them through for their own amusement…no. The Winx had liked to assert that the fairies were good and all was well, but Gantlos hardly trusted the word of a gang of nineteen year olds running around playing dress up. The fairies hated them, they'd always hated them, he wasn't going to shackle himself at their feet. Duman wouldn't have wanted that either. He could almost imagine it…if their surrender had been genuine, all in the name of saving Duman, Duman…he would have lost it, insisted they were no pets to the Earth fairies and that he'd never agreed to a real surrender. He'd looked at the plan with excitement, filled with eager anticipation of the, as he'd put it, 'Plot twist!' moment when they unleashed the abyss. They'd all agreed on the plan. They'd all agreed that afterwards, it'd be over. They'd have wound up on most wanted lists, but they'd always been good at hiding. They'd had a plan. To take off to some far-flung corner of the globe, hunker down and live out the rest of their lives without the horrible buzz of fairy magic raking at their skin every second of every day. They'd have been able to handle no magic for a while, or just for small things…
But now all of that was gone. Just gone.
Would things have looked better, if they'd just given in? Where would they be now? Probably still in a cell…but maybe they'd be locked up together? Maybe? God, that didn't sound so bad…never breathing fresh air again would still be a kick in the teeth, but being in a cell with his friends, with Duman…
It galled him to think they'd fought and lost to avoid a cell, and wound up in a cell anyway, traumatised, exhausted, and one wizard gone. He wouldn't let it all be for nothing. They'd get out of here, one way or another. Who knew? Maybe they'd even find a way to take their revenge…
'…You heard all that, right?'
Anagan sighed, groaning into his hands. Yes…yes, he'd heard…
'Ogron…I'm worried, screams like that never come before anything good.'
He heard the soft sigh echo his own before Ogron spoke again, his voice hushed but just loud enough to be heard from a cell away. 'No…no, it doesn't…but there's hardly a thing to be done, not from here. Your call across was the closest we can manage.'
Anagan scrambled to think of an argument, something else he could do, anything, but…well, he was stuck behind bars. Deluding himself just a moment, he tugged at the bars. He wasn't sure what he thought would happen. He just needed the reassurance that there was truly something stopping him rushing into Gantlos's cell and talking some sense into him. He'd heard him punch the wall. He knew he'd probably hurt himself. And there was nothing he could do about it.
'…Are you okay over there?' He wanted to stay on Gantlos until he had a solution, but, well…they weren't going to reach one. At least Ogron was willing to let words try their hand at helping him.
'As okay as I can be, I suppose…' Not an amazing reply…but not one that scared Anagan out of his mind either.
'You're going to be alright to sleep tonight?'
There was a long pause, and Anagan flashed back to a few nights ago, to Ogron's abject panic as the lights had gone off. He'd curled up in his bed, blanket over his head, shaking like a puppy on Fireworks Night, and it hadn't got much better the next night. Anagan had soothed it as best he was able, and Ogron had managed some decent sleep, but now Anagan couldn't so much as see Ogron, let alone hold his hand and reassure him he was safe. He could call across, but there was a good chance the guards would simply shut him down. He wasn't the only prisoner here meant to be resting, after all…
Finally, Ogron replied, voice small but forced into stability. '…Yes. Yes, I'll be perfectly well…after all, what's to fear? The dark? There's nothing in the dark, I know that…' But Anagan heard the slight tremor in his voice. He knew what Ogron had been through, even if he'd only seen the aftermath. He was scared of the dark, and he had every right to be. Anagan was scared of enclosed spaces, and that was a valid fear, as he knew in theory.
'…I can keep talking to you while you go to sleep…' he offered.
'No…no, you'll get into trouble for sure, it's still our first week here, we don't want to aggravate the guards,' Ogron replied, as though he hadn't been actively fighting the guards earlier that day. Anagan didn't think it would be of much use to point that out.
'Okay…but just call if you need me.'
'And you'll do what?' It wasn't said aggressively, or phrased as an accusation, not at Anagan, at least, but still, it stung. It stung that he was kept apart from his best friends, that he had a mess of trauma on one side and a ball of white hot rage hellbent on tearing this place apart on the other, and he couldn't do a single thing to help either one.
'How could you do this?'
Stella turned, confused. She was utterly spent after the trial, why was someone talking to her? Couldn't a girl just lie in a bubble bath and soak away her eye wrinkles (yes, eye wrinkles, she was getting them, she'd checked twice).
Based on the thunderous expression on Riven's face, no. A girl could not
'Riven, what-'
Riven didn't even let her finish, storming inside the room. She wasn't sure she'd seen him as angry, not even when he'd assumed Musa was making out with Nabu. Had she done something?
'I can't believe you'd defend them…' Riven looked as though he couldn't decide between screaming or maybe crying. 'I can't believe you'd advocate for them not to be thrown back in the deepest hole in Omega.'
'The…the wizards?'
'No, Bloom. Yeah, the wizards! Stella, did you forget what they did to us?! What they did to Nabu! They deserve their sentence, Stella! We agreed! The law agreed, the council-'
'The council has moles-'
'I don't care! I don't care, Stella! I don't care if this Neruman guy hurt them, I don't care if your heart bled for them! Did you just block out that that guy, the one you were protecting like he's some poor orphaned stray kitten, that he stood over Aisha, he stole the black gift, he dropped it on a flower, a fucking flower! And he laughed! He laughed, Stella! He thought it was funny or some shit! He snatched away Nabu's life, he killed him-'
'Technically-'
'I swear to god, Stella, if you give me some bullshit about semantics, I will throw a goddamn chair. He stood there and saw us about to save Nabu, and he stopped that! He wanted Nabu dead, and he acted on that desire! That's good as murder to me, don't you dare gloss it over!'
Stella flinched. Not because Riven was yelling, but because he wasn't…he wasn't exactly wrong, was he…she'd thought about it, of course she had, but everything in her had twisted at the idea of throwing the wizards back into Omega. It had been a deep, sick feeling, one she couldn't shake.
'Stella…' Riven repeated, voice softer, cracking around the edges. 'Stella, how could you just…push all that aside? Like…like Nabu, like he didn't…like he didn't mean anything.'
'Don't!' Stella's eyes flashed, something burning hot inside her. 'Don't say that! Nabu was my friend, Riven! He meant so much to me, and I miss him so much! But Nabu wasn't the kind of guy that made people suffer as revenge, Riven! He wasn't!'
'You don't know that!'
'Aisha told me as much! Aisha was on board with what I was doing, Riven! She wants to stop the cycle!'
'The last time you gave those three leeway, Nabu wound up dead, and we almost followed suit, Stella! God! How could you be so naive?!'
'Naive?! I'm not naive, Riven, I just have a damn heart!'
She saw it immediately. The closed off look he got every time he and Musa fought, the raw hurt scurrying from his eyes as quickly as it appeared, lest someone recognise it and pity him.
'Riven, I'm sorry, I know you-'
'Well if your damn heart is telling you to let them kick their heels in a jail cell, just waiting for their magic to jump start back to life, then you're just as dumb as people think you are!'
'Nobody thinks I'm dumb, Riven!' In spite of her conviction of the statement, her lower lip trembled. Did people think that about her? Kindness wasn't stupidity…
Riven seemed somewhat caught off guard by his own words, but held firm to his anger. 'Maybe they don't, but this- Stella, this is stupid, and you must be wearing a damn blindfold if you think otherwise. They're gonna bust outta there one day, and then they're gonna come for us, and then they're gonna kill someone else! I guarantee they're scheming down there right now!'
'And if they are? They're powerless and behind bars, Riven. They can't get out of there, they can't do anything. They're stuck there until they die, but at least they can move and breathe.'
'Move their way right back out to attack us all again! Stella, haven't you learned anything from last time? Hell, from the Trix?!'
'The Trix are different, they still have their powers!'
'And you're so certain the wizards are never ever getting theirs back?! They told us they were powerless before, and then, oops! Plot twist! They weren't powerless, they were just keeping all that shit in the Black Circle, which Bloom just handed back to them like some idiot!'
'Don't say that about Bloom!'
'What, that she was less than smart to just hand over the source of all the wizards' power right before taking them straight to the heart of their enemies' home? You think that was a smart call?'
'Morgana said he had to hand over the Circle!'
'Oh, of course, and you guys can't make decisions on your own, you always gotta listen to cryptic authority figures!'
'What are we even arguing about anymore?!'
Riven took a few deep breaths. 'The fact that you think we'll be safe with them free in any capacity. Omega's for the worst of the worst, Stella…and they're the worst of the worst. If they don't deserve to be there, for wiping out a species, for laughing at the prospect of someone dying in the dirt, then who does? Huh? Who deserves to be there? Or will you just accept a sob story from any psychopath?'
'Ogron wasn't lying-'
'I didn't say he was! I buy it, trust me, I get the look of trauma in someone's eyes, he was abused, I see that clearly, but unless Neruman used a time machine and undid all the shit Ogron did, it doesn't matter! Bad things happening to you don't make you a good person, Stella! If they did, we could just beat goodness into people. You honestly think, that if we handed Ogron the Black Circle right now, if we gave him all his power and more, he'd just kick back and stay outta trouble? No! He'd kill us all, then get right back to fairy hunting, and it scares me that you can't see that!'
'Well what do you want me to do, Riven?!'
'I want you to have some goddamn awareness of people's safety, and some goddamn respect for Nabu's memory, and have those monsters thrown in Omega where they belong!'
'And what if Neruman takes them back? I'd be responsible for them being hurt again!'
'You! Shouldn't! Care! You shouldn't care, Stella! You shouldn't care! They revelled in fairies' suffering for centuries, and they didn't care! Those are not the kind of people you should be showing mercy and compassion for, because they're never gonna change! They're not!'
'Shouldn't you of all people understand the value of a second chance?!'
Riven looked like he'd been punched in the gut. 'Did you…did you just liken me to them? Did you just compare me to a murderer?'
Stella winced. She hadn't meant it like that…just that…just that Riven knew how it was to have everyone hate him and need another chance…
'Actually, you know what, Stella, you're right, I do understand the value of a second chance. The second chance we all gave them, the second chance they tossed aside. I understand the value of what they didn't want, and I understand what that says about them. They stood there, with the people they'd hurt willing and ready to listen and extend a hand, and they slapped them away and held a knife to their throat. And you want to give them a third chance to do that?'
Stella fell silent. Her only defences would be labelled a bleeding heart or naïveté, and though she still stood by her decision, she felt her faith waver.
Riven watched her a moment, then his eyes darkened and he turned on his heel.
'Wait! Where are you going?'
'I want to see those monsters in shackles, and I want to tell them exactly what I think about them. They need to know, and I need to watch them hear it.'
'But you're not allowed down there-'
Riven didn't bother to let her finish before he slammed the door in her face.
It had been a good few hours. Maybe a dozen, maybe a day, Gantlos wasn't completely certain yet. He'd been racking his brains for any ideas to get them out of here, and so far his only idea that might not totally suck was to fake a medical emergency so severe that they'd have to rush him to a hospital, then attack while they readied to operate, escape, find a gang of mercenaries, pay them with whatever he had to, have them save Ogron and Anagan, then run for it. The issues were obvious. Firstly, they'd never buy a fake emergency, so he'd have to actually create a medical emergency. Which, obviously, he'd do, he just wasn't totally sure he wanted to. And he didn't have anything mercenaries would want, so that might have to wait a while…and if he had a real medical emergency, escape might be hard…dammit, this plan sucked too.
'Stupid plans…' he grumbled, glowering at the floor. Ogron always made the plans! Gantlos just punched people! Which he would have done earlier if Anagan had let him. He definitely needed a plan that involved punching people…in lieu of his magic, his fists were his best asset.
He drew damn near to screaming at the little meow that echoed around the cell. That damned cat was still here! Apparently it had decided the cell with the wizard with severe anger issues was just a phenomenal place to hang out, and definitely wouldn't end in catastrophe for a small, fragile mammal.
'Is there something wrong with you? Seriously, did you get dropped as a kitten or something?'
The cat just mewed again and started grooming. Duman had always liked cats. Called them little demons in disguise, mischief embodied in a little furry vessel, with such wisdom inside their eyes.
Gantlos was starting to get the distinct feeling Duman had been wrong, this thing was several wizards short of a coven.
He stiffened. Footsteps. Not the guards. The guards' steps came with the clang of metal, the thud of heavy boots. These were lighter. With a steady click for a heel. And yet…they hit the earth like a mountain falling from the heavens, the weight of a world of anger behind each step.
He got to his feet, craning his neck to see past the bars, muscles tensed and readied for a fight, however futile that may be. He wondered if perhaps this was the king, come to see them locked away securely, even a wizard from the Council of Light, but no.
He saw pink. Dark, pointed pink hair, flashing in the corner of his vision. For a brief moment he thought maybe-
No.
He knew the moment he heard that voice. That hot, aggressive voice that held so many emotions it felt ready to crack.
Riven.
'You're not even shackled.' He sounded disbelieving, angry. As though their lack of restraints was some personal affront to him.
'Well we're in cells, so…what'd be the point?' Gantlos wasn't scared of this guy. He'd taken this guy, twice. Inexperienced rookie with no self preservation instinct. Worst damage he'd ever inflicted had been slicing off the top of Duman's Mohawk, and that had been shifted back on within the hour.
'Don't talk to me.' The voice went cold, embers simmering underneath.
'Then don't talk to me.' Gantlos's eyes narrowed. Inexperienced rookie, yes…but Riven had been there. He'd taken Duman away, helped him walk to his death. His jaw clenched, fists straining against his better judgement to yank Riven to the bars and hit him square in his sour face.
Riven's eyes roved over the cell, over Ogron's cell, Anagan's. Gantlos heard his friends get up, come to the bars to investigate the new arrival.
Riven's eyes narrowed, burning hot and furious as soon as he looked to Ogron.
'You. How dare you.'
'How…how dare I what?'
'How dare you get off like this. How dare you escape your actual punishment and be given this, just because Stella has a bleeding heart. After everything you'd done, you deserve Omega.'
Gantlos's eyes widened. How dare he. Ogron didn't deserve Omega! The torture they'd gone through there, the feeling of ice crystals in your lungs, in your flesh, it was agony, Ogron didn't deserve that!
Ogron didn't speak a single word to defend himself, but no matter. Gantlos was there to say every word for him.
'And who the hell are you to talk about what he deserves? And to talk about Omega? You ever been frozen in ice, unable to breathe or move, all while watching the monster of a fairy that looks at humans like insects fly away to be granted a promotion?' That little kick in the crotch never really went away. The Winx couldn't claim to be any sort of authority on justice when all they could see in people was whether or not they had a pair of sparkly wings to show their innate goodness, or a bare back to show their inherent evil.
'Don't bring up Nebula like her getting away Scott free somehow invalidates everything you did. Nebula didn't kill anyone.'
Gantlos had to cover his mouth to hide a snort of disbelief. 'Oh, you're kidding…someone should read up on his history.' Nebula? Didn't kill anyone? How sickeningly naive…
Riven looked almost curious for a beat, before shaking his head. 'Don't try and distract me. I don't give a damn what Nebula did. I give a damn about Nabu's murderer being given a lighter sentence because Stella feels bad for you!'
'Stella does not feel bad for me!' Ogron snapped. If there was one thing that could get under Ogron's skin, it was unwanted pity. Even the implication of unwanted pity. 'We made a deal, she offered a lighter sentence in exchange for information-'
'Your information doesn't bring Nabu back! It doesn't change the fact you're a psychopath that laughed as he took someone's life!'
Gantlos practically heard the fight leave Ogron. 'I…'
'I can't believe Stella would help you after what you did…' Riven shook his head, disgusted. 'Do you even regret a damn thing?'
Gantlos actually thought about it a moment. He regretted taking actions that led to Duman's death…but did he really regret the hunt? He couldn't summon remorse over anything but the fact they'd failed. The fairies knew what they'd done. And remorse, regret, that didn't do anything to change the past. All it did was steal the present from you. And when it came to watching Nabu die…
'Nabu deserved what he got.'
'Gantlos…' Anagan sounded nervous at the tone in his voice, but Gantlos didn't care.
'…What?' Riven's voice was more dangerous than Gantlos had ever heard it. But that wasn't a very high bar.
'I said he deserved what he got.' Gantlos stepped closer to the bars, squaring his shoulders and asserting the extra foot he had over Riven. 'He took a life, and he lost his. Call it an eye for an eye.'
'An eye for a- are you serious?!'
'Never more so.' Of course he was serious. Ogron had taken revenge for Duman. They didn't know what had happened, but they'd felt it. When they'd reached out to sense him, all they'd felt was emptiness, and his magic. Nabu's magic. An echo in the void. That was all they needed to know, and it was all Gantlos needed to witness an execution.
Riven looked taken aback for a moment, before rolling his eyes as though Gantlos had said something mind-bogglingly stupid. 'What, so, by that logic, I'm a-ok to just murder Ogron? Life for a life and shit?'
'Don't you dare.' Gantlos tensed up protectively, as though Riven were already pointing a gun. 'It's…it's different!'
'Different how? Thanks to whatever double-standard you've cobbled together to justify murder? Give me a damn break!'
Gantlos grit his teeth. When the hell were the guards going to drag this guy outta here? Wasn't yelling at prisoners some kind of infraction?
'Nabu murdered Duman unprovoked. Ogron killed him provoked.'
Riven was silent a moment. Gantlos almost thought he agreed. Then his shoulders shook. His face screwed up. He teetered on the brink of crying, before Gantlos's mouth dropped open to hear…laughter.
Not warm, not jovial, no mirth…not the kind of belly laugh Duman had coaxed out of them all so often, not a laugh of joy, nor humour…simply the kind of laugh one makes when there is no other reaction possible. When something is so ludicrous, so inconceivable, that the only way a man can react is to laugh.
'Wha…what? Why the hell are you laughing, this isn't funny!'
Riven quieted his laughter to steady, humourless chuckles. 'Unprovoked? Is that what you think?'
Gantlos's eyes narrowed, something in him edging away. He was so certain…but the certainty in Riven's voice…
'Of course it is. Duman was dying, he couldn't even get up. I don't know what you all thought, maybe you didn't agree with giving your enemies refuge, but you killed him when he was-'
'Is that what you think of us?' Riven looked almost insulted. 'You think, what? We'd look at a dying, screaming man on our couch, already walking down death's drive, and we'd say, 'Welp, time to commit homicide?' Not everyone is like you people, some of us give a damn about the value of a life.'
Gantlos opened his mouth to retort, but Riven didn't give him a chance.
'No, Gantlos, we didn't decide to kill him while he was down, or whatever else you've been convincing yourself of to justify watching Nabu die. Nabu was looking for a cure, a way to stop him being sick, make him stop screaming on the couch, and you know what? He figured one out. Duman had been overusing his shapeshifting magic. Drawing too much energy while he was too weak, trying to help you people capture Roxy because you didn't know when to quit. Timmy and I were trying to keep Duman under control, which, let me tell you, not easy. And that would be the part when he went crazy.'
Gantlos's blood chilled. Crazy?
Riven stepped closer, voice growing colder with each word. 'His powers destabilised completely. He mutated, turned into this huge demonic creature, like a killer bat. Threw us into the wall, grabbed Nabu and flew off. I don't know what he was planning, but I'd put money on it having left Aisha without a fiancée. I went after him, we all went after him, I got him to drop Nabu and we all wound up in the park. He was still attacking us, but Nabu…' He paused, tone softening slightly. 'Nabu walked past our swords. He told Duman he could help him, that he wanted to help him, even after that…
'He refused. He turned it down, attacked us…he was stronger, deadlier, angrier…he let the entire plan slip, we knew every second we were there fighting was a second you were readying to kill the Earth fairies, kill the women we loved… We were getting creamed and Nabu didn't have a choice. He vaporised him. Probably saved lives. He tossed him every possible chance, and he spat in his face. He chose death, maybe not at Nabu's hand, but he chose to die. He heard his illness would kill him, and he still slapped away help, so if Nabu hadn't done it, then guess what? Duman's own body would have! So don't you dare act like he was some kinda victim here, because he stood there, heard what would happen to him, and decided tearing us to shreds was more important!'
Riven's heavy, furious breathing was the only sound to echo off the walls of the dungeon. Gantlos had stilled completely, eyes wide, hands balling into fists to hide the shaking.
Disintegrated.
Refused help.
Overuse of his powers.
The words echoed around in his mind, bouncing off the walls and wailing like banshees, while he stood, stock still, trying to find some meaning in them. But all he found were whispers, snatches of clarity that told him this was on them. That they'd pushed ahead, even as their powers faltered, and Duman's had tormented him…had killed him…been going to kill him…
He felt them.
Pricking at his eyes, teasing at his resolve. He pressed his lips together as firmly as possible, refusing, steadfastly refusing, to shed a single tear before Riven. He wouldn't let that happen, he was already caged like a wild beast from a hunt, he wouldn't be reduced to an emotional mess. He wouldn't grant Riven that image, a possession to be replayed whenever he so desired.
But his lip trembled anyway. God, how pathetic, like a child with a broken toy…
He turned away, taking the deepest, quietest breath he could manage. Get it together…get it together, this was weak!
'Look at me,' Riven demanded. 'You don't get to turn away and act hurt, act like some damn victim.'
'Leave.'
Gantlos glanced around, confused at the tone. He couldn't see Anagan, but he could hear his warning.
'Shut up, this isn't-'
'I said leave. You got what you wanted, you saw us locked up, you can stop now.'
Riven paused. Seemed to think. Maybe he wondered what he intended to gain from this. Maybe he felt offence at Anagan's interruption. Maybe Gantlos didn't care what he thought.
Finally, Riven turned. Silent. Walked away. Gantlos thought that was all he'd do, until he stopped, turned to a guard.
'Keep them locked up. Don't ever open those bars.' His shoulders hunched back up, muscles taught with frustration and pain, and he stalked out. The guard didn't even bat an eye. Perhaps Riven was just allowed to wander wherever. Maybe it was a privilege of being the toxic ex of the princess' friend.
Riven's footsteps vanished after a few beats, and Gantlos felt the weight in the silence. The anticipation of-
'…Gantlos? Ogron? Are you both-'
'I don't give a damn what that moron has to say,' Gantlos snapped, swallowing hard to hide the tremor from his voice. He wasn't having a meltdown here. He was fine.
He was fine as Ogron quietly responded to Anagan.
He was fine as he sunk down the wall to sit on the floor in a haze.
He was fine as the tears started falling.
He was fine.
He was fine.
He was falling apart.
The cat is sticking around. This story needed a cat. Also, I loved writing Riven in this chapter! I had to really toe a line here, because i don't want to just write 'Oh, Riven's such a jerk, he's just being mean,' I wanted him to have valid points and to just serve as a reminder that the wizards were evil, still sort of are. Though Riven was wrong, if Ogron regained the Circle and his powers, he'd pretty much just drop off the face of the Earth and go hide and finally feel safe. He'd like to think he'd take revenge, but it'd all be far too much for him. Gantlos, on the other hand...he would definitely go on a rampage. But I think I managed to write Riven well here! He's still acting like a bit of a tool, some of what he said to Stella was very uncalled for, but I think he served his purpose. Seeing in shades of grey goes both ways.