Chapter Text
Darkness was an ever present companion to the Twilight Court.
The entire kingdom was always enveloped in dark shadows from the volcano on the southern border of LOHAC. It was also the favourite country of Father Winter. Even the hottest days in Derse were usually still overcast with clouds.
That being said, nothing compared to the darkness of the Dersite dungeons in all of the Twilight Kingdom.
There were always guards standing nearby the entrance/exit of the entire area. Dave remembered visiting the dreaded place during an errand once. The moment he stepped in front of the soldiers, Dave could immediately smell alcohol in their breaths although they saluted him normally as if they haven't been caught drinking at work. However, it wasn't like Dave couldn't see it from their perspective. They were no doubt bored out of their mind, because nothing could ever happen in the dungeons of Dersite Castleground; the most secure prison in the entire continent.
The bars were made of the hardest steel found in the deepest mines of LOHAC. They had also barred windows installed in each cell with steel so in the night one could still see the moon and stars above the sky. The opening wasn't big enough for anyone to fit; just to allow light from the outside world to enter the otherwise crampy and low-lighted space. But of course, there were barbed wires installed just outside the windows just in case anyone could fit the 7 inches wide opening. It might be worth mentioning that the ground outside were overgrown with brambles, and also, lots of bushes that would make so much noises when stepped on. There was nothing one could do to escape unnoticed.
Some said that the dungeons were riddled with demons who would whisper to the prisoners at night. They said one could hear screaming coming from the cells sometimes, even during the day. If you were thrown into the dungeons, chance was you were in for a serious crime, so there was no hope of ever getting free again. Either you were in for life, or you would be executed anyway later on.
Or, you could go crazy from all the demonic whispers; that is, if you were lucky.
That being said, the dungeons were the biggest nightmare fuel of every citizens of Derse.
Once Latula had seized and took off with him, Dave knew for sure that he was going there. He remembered passing some of his fellow trainees on the way and Dave could see the barely concealed look of relief and delight on some of their faces. Some appeared confused but most just looked smug. It hurt to realize just how few of his comrades he could actually call friend.
Knight Pyrope had dragged him into the lowest level in the dungeons and threw him unceremoniously into one of the cells before locking it shut. Dave had pleaded for her to just listen to what he had to say but the knight just spared him a condescending look and turned away.
“I should've known you were up to something the moment I hear that the Prince took an immediate liking to a stray dog on the field,” she told him, back facing his cell. “That's a dirty little trick using magic to get someone to like you, Sorcerer.”
“No, Ser Pyrope listen! I didn't put a spell on him—I wouldn't! I can't!” Dave said defensively. “I didn't do anything! That was the first time I ever used my magic for anything since I entered the castle! You have to believe me; I didn't mean any harm to anyone! All I ever wanted was—”
“Shut your mouth!” She snapped, which resulted in Dave immediately complying due to the intensity of her tone. “You disappointed everyone, Lalonde. Your trainer Equius had high hopes for you. Too bad he was mistaken in judging you so highly. I'll see you in the stakes tomorrow morning.”
“S-Ser Pyrope!” Dave started but Latula had already walked away in disgust. The guards at the entrance didn't even respond to any of that exchange and just proceeded to ignore Dave's pleading and calling. They simply drunk their bottles of ale and carried on with their task of doing absolutely nothing. Dave thought amongst the stinking of blood and urine, the place also smelled like apathy. It even reeked of impassivity from the very few other prisoners whom he could see were completely ignorant towards any of the scene that just unfolded. He could sense more vigour in the funeral homes. Their eyes looked deader than the roasted pigs' that he used to get for supper after a harsh day of training.
The rest of the day seemed to drag on. He could hear the continuous murmurings of people on the streets from the openings of the cells. They were talking about the cancelled Feast Night as a sorcerer was found in the ranks of the army and was going to be executed tomorrow and so on. He had to block his ears from further listening to more mad ramblings and theories regarding himself. How he entered the castle by using magic to cheat the entrance test; how he gained everyone's heart by bewitching them; how he was trying to get close to the prince in order to usurp the throne etcetera.
It hurt to listen to them. It hurt to think everything just went south so quickly and just this morning he woke up with his prince lying on the other side of the huge bed they were so used to sharing now. It hurt to remember his face as he found out about Dave's curse. It hurt to think how he would look the day of his execution—which was supposed to be tomorrow morning.
Was he really gonna die? God, he didn't want to die!
The thought of death consumed him for hours as he pondered about how everything had gone so wrong in such short amount of time. Fuck, but what was he supposed to do?! If he didn't use magic, Dirk would've been seriously injured—or died even! That was a no-win situation for him! That wasn't fair! That wasn't how things should've been! If only he had realized sooner—if he had only been more attentive to his surroundings, this wouldn't have happened!
And night fell just as soon as the day was gone. Dave spent so much time stressing over everything that he didn't realize someone was supposed to bring dinner as the smell of food entered his nostrils. It made him feel sick to the stomach to think this was supposed to be his last meal. The guards opened the heavy entrance gate and a lady came in bringing a tray full of mediocre looking food. She put the tray on the floor before opening the food hutch and sliding them in into Dave's cell, all while having a neutral—concealed fear and disgust—expression on her face. She didn't even bother looking at Dave before walking out in a hurried pace. She seemed to stop at the entrance though, and a cry echoes throughout the musty air.
“Y-Your Highness!”
The surprise in the woman's voice was understandable when Dave saw the familiar figure of the red caped prince descending down the stairs. The soldiers immediately straightened up and saluted him, which he waved off. Then he mumbled something to the nearby one and Dave could hear footsteps distancing. The entire dungeon was silent now with only himself and the cold hearted prince, aside from the apathetic prisoners present.
“I came to…talk.”
“Dirk…” Dave mumbled as he heard the familiar tone of voice. His posture straightened up as he saw the prince approaching and he stood up, grabbing at the steel bars that separated the two of them. He hated how his heart could feel so light when he caught sight of the older boy's form, but also at the same time felt oh so heavy. The look on Dirk's face pained him; Dave knew now he had disappointed his prince. Dirk stopped a few feet away from the cage and looked down to the floor, avoiding Dave's gaze. At that moment the squire felt being pierced by an arrow would feel so much less painful.
“…why?” Was the thing that Dirk said. Dave felt tears welling up in his eyes because Dirk's tone actually sounded really hurt. “I trusted you,” the prince spoke in a rugged tone. “We made a promise. But you still lied to me.”
It was Dave's turn to look away. He couldn't stand to see the betrayed look and the utter disappointment, because for the love of everything holy, he tried! He tried not to! He didn't want to disappoint Dirk, he didn't want to make it seem like he had betrayed Dirk but what could he have done? It was either this or Dirk's life! How could he choose?
“…I'm sorry,” was the only thing Dave could say in reply. “I never meant for you to find out like this.”
“So you admit it? You've been lying to me all this time? How long have you been practicing the cursed arte, Dave?” Dirk shot and the accusations felt like a sword through his chest. Dave tightened his grip on the steel bar and shook his head.
“…from summer…second year of the Fallen Moon,” he spoke with a grave tone. Dirk furrowed his brow when Dave finally found the courage to look at Dirk in the eyes and gave him a small smile.
“Do you remember the Festival of Good Harvest on that year? You were there in my town, riding your caravan, surrounded by the purple knights. I still remember how bored you looked at the time; I get it though, must be boring having to just sit around doing nothing with nobody to talk to, right?”
Dirk squinted his eyes. Dave knew by that look that he recognized the said event. God, he loved that he could read his brother's expression like a book, he thought as a fond look appear on his face. The sentiment might not be reciprocated however, when he saw Dirk look away in disgust before folding his arms in front of his chest. He then looked at Dave from the corner of his eyes and nodded for him to continue. Dave looked down again as if ashamed of himself for having such emotion.
“I was trying to catch your gaze then too, you know,” he said with a mirthless laughter. “Pathetic I know. Me, the commoner, trying so hard to gain the attention of the highest in the Court of Twilight. What are the chances that anyone would pay me, just the boy in the crowd a second mind?”
But Dirk did. The prince did pay a second mind. Even more than that, he had been watching Dave just as the younger had been watching him. It hurt to think that it felt just like yesterday he was standing under the bright LOHAC sun, in the bustling crowd trying to get a good look at the marching caravan. He still remembered everything so vividly, even now as he stood in the darkest dungeon of the Twilight Court.
“I saw the arrow when I was trying to move in the crowds,” Dave's eyes grew cloudy when he recalled that fateful day. “My mind went blank. I barely knew how to do magic back then. I didn't realize I— I didn't even do it voluntarily.”
Dirk's eyes widened as he recognized what Dave was trying to say. The squire didn't stop to confirm his suspicion, however, and continued, “I came to realize that my magic, the cursed arte that everyone had come to fear, it could save people,” he said in a half-hopeful tone. He still remembered the sliver of pride that he felt that day. “I could protect people with this power; I could save people's life! I could protect you!”
Dirk's face contorted with something Dave didn't know what to call, but he gave the prince a small fond smile nonetheless. “I started studying the technique I thought would be useful. My mom, bless her soul, helped me learn. She was a master sorceress by the way. Taught me everything I know,” he said with a longing tone. “When she died, I felt so hopeless. I had believed she would continue to guide me for years to come. I thought she would be there when I need her, always. I thought we still had a long time.”
“But I was once again, the fool,” Dave closed his eyes and his smile turned to a grimace. “I would've done everything I could to save her too. But I couldn't. She was taken away from me, leaving me with nothing but memories, and the 'curse' to keep me going. I decided then, that I wanted to pursue my dream. I wanted to go to the Court, wanted a place inside the Purple Tower, wanted to be able to see you, to protect you.”
“Dave…”
“I'm just—I didn't understand my own feelings, Dirk. I still don't,” Dave shook his head, his throat felt extremely dry all of a sudden and the voice that came out didn't sound like his. “I just feel like we were meant to be with one another, that we could accomplish so much together. I feel connected to you. I wanted to be able to see you from up close...I hated just being 'the boy in the crowd', only watching from afar…not being able to get to know the real you…”
Back then, on the days he spent longing for the prince, Dave had always been forced to acknowledge the gap between them. The distance was like a chasm that smiles so wide in mocking him. It whispered to him, taunting him on the fact that the true distance between him, a simple commoner and Dirk, the royalty was too big, too wide a berth to cross. Even his mother warned him about it.
But he never listened.
He never listened and decided to make the leap. The naive 10 year old him decided to take the risk and crossed over into the realm of the unknown.
And for a while it seemed that his faith had paid off.
For a while Dirk was so warm and welcoming, very accommodating to his clinginess and so, so reliable. It wasn't until two years had passed and he realized something that had been nagging on his mind since he first got to know Dirk. Something that he didn't want to admit.
“…that is until I realize that in truth, I know almost nothing about you, if at all, even after all these years,” he said, and for a moment Dirk looked taken aback when he heard Dave spoke. “We talk, of course. We spend countless nights talking about everything and nothing, and yet I still don't understand you. Sometimes I even feel like you actually don't want me to understand. Even though we are so close, I still feel like the presence of that huge gap mocking me, telling me that I never got a step closer from when I was still the 'boy in the crowd'.”
Dave had never felt more anguish before as he admitted these things out loud. All the pent up emotions, the denial; he felt like his brain just went on overload. There was no way he could stop talking now if he tried. Dirk had always acted as his source of comfort and understanding when it came to anything else, but these? He didn't have anyone else to talk to about these. If anything, Dirk was the source of every stress that came with these feelings.
He didn't want to blame Dirk about it, but the fact was that Dirk ignited these painful thoughts in him. He had tried to turn a blind eye on them and just bask in the goodness of their relationship. But everything always felt so…fake. So forced. So shallow. Their relationship felt so frail like if Dave gripped on it too tightly, it'd break into irreparable pieces.
“But as much as it hurts having these feelings, the days I spent with you were still the happiest days of my life. I can't describe how much it meant to me, having you by my side,” Dave shook his head, his hands trembling on the steel bars that seemed so keen on keeping the distance between himself and his brother. “You came along exactly when I needed someone to lean on. You supported me and kept me afloat, I—I can't tell you how much it helped me after I lost my mom, I—Dirk I—”
Dave choked up a sob, eyes brimming with tears as he lifted his face, red meeting orange with the intensity that felt so desperate in it's wake. “...I don't want this to ever end…!” The tremble in his voice was unavoidable. “Even if we were just playing pretend, I treasure every moment of it. I would rather lose everything else rather than to lose whatever this is that we have…That's why I didn't say anything; I don't want my 'curse' to fuck this up like it fucked up everything else in my life.”
Dirk visibly stiffened, his brows furrowed even deeper than before as he closed his eyes, grimacing. “Alright, that's enough. Stop it.”
“I always feel so much less alone when I'm with you,” Dave sobbed out with a desperate tone, ignoring Dirk's semi-commanding tone. “I was so happy when you told me you had been watching me too. I was happy that you deemed me worthy of being associated with. I was so happy my heart could burst when you asked me to become your brother. I felt everything was finally changing for me. I felt like I could finally breathe free.”
“Dave, I said, stop it.”
“I was scared, Dirk,” Dave sobbed out. “Everyone scorns this…this 'curse', they looked down upon it like a piece of dirt and I—I don't know how you feel about it either. I got scared just thinking about how you might feel about me after knowing about it. You forgave me my lowly status, but would you have forgiven me my 'curse'? I didn't choose to be born with it, I didn't even want it. But that didn't stop it from plaguing my life with its presence. I have to live with it, Dirk; I don't have a choice!”
Dirk gritted his teeth, every muscle in his body turned taut with strain, the grip on his sleeves tightened until his knuckles turned white. “Dave, enough; I don't want to hear anymore.”
“Please forgive me, I never meant for this to hurt you; to hurt us. I didn't want you to hate me, Dirk, I'm s—”
“I said shut up!” Dirk yelled out. “Don't speak my name with your tainted tongue, you piece of cursed filth!”
…
There was a deeply suffocating silence that followed, one that felt so long yet in reality probably only lasted a couple seconds. The tense silence was like a void that seemed to want to swallow everything in sight.
If only the void could've swallowed him too, Dave would've been happier, perhaps.
The moment Dirk spat out his hateful words, anything else Dave had wanted to say vanished into oblivion. He felt his heart breaking to pieces as his worst fear came to realization. It felt like stepping on thin ice that immediately broke and getting plunged in into the freezing cold water, losing any sort of hold or control he had on himself.
There was no amount of magic in the world that could possibly fix this.
Slowly, he dropped down to his knees as if the energy had been drained from his legs completely, tears streaming down his cheeks. His grip on the steel bars loosened as he bowed down his head and sobbed out a low “I'm sorry,” over and over again, even as Dirk turned around and left the dark musty dungeon and back into his own beautiful and elegant room.
The spacious bedroom felt so hollow for some reason. Dirk didn't know why, but he just felt like the suffocating air of the dungeons was far more welcoming than his own luxurious, clean room. He threw himself to his plush bed and covered his eyes with an arm. The space on the other side of the bed felt unusually empty. It used to belong to someone, who up until earlier this day, had been his anchor to reality. It used to be given to this person so that Dirk could constantly bask in the closeness— the realness of their presence.
The person that just pointed out that maybe they'd just been deluding themselves about the so-called relationship that they have all along.
The person who just called Dirk out on all the desperation—all the act that he put up to impress the other.
The same person who admitted that despite everything, Dirk had succeeded in making him love the prince.
Just like Dirk had wanted.
…what had he done?
He didn't sleep a wink that night.
==>
Daybreak came through the barred window of the prison like a death sentence. Dave didn't know he could've dreaded the sun so much before. Shades of orange and ember shapes had riddled his night terrors, but the sight of the sun wasn't quite a salvation as it was supposed to be. As soon as the first gong of the clock tower resounded all over the city, the sound of heavy footsteps of the purple clad guards could be heard echoing against the concrete walls as they made their way into the dungeons. He watched with bloodshot eyes as they calmly and professionally unlocked the cells and entered his personal space, all the while not saying a single word.
They didn't say anything either as they began stripping him bare.
He could've frozen them in time, run out of the cell like that and be free.
But he didn't.
What's even the point, he told himself as he let them tie his hands behind his bare back. Nothing good ever came from magic. It took away everything and fixed nothing. And besides, even if he did escape this, he had nowhere else to go.
He didn't look up once as they tied a piece of rope on his neck. He let them pull him out of the place like a literal lamb to a slaughterhouse.
He clenched his fists tightly, however, as a small metallic gear-shaped pendant came out of nowhere and appeared in his palm. He had only managed to learn this much of a time travelling technique before this incident. It was so ironic to think that it came in handy during a time like this.
Deep inside, he hated himself as the thing that came to his mind was, “It's so ironic; Dirk would've loved it.”
==>
The crowd was enormous in number.
Every citizen was there to witness his sentence, it seemed. He didn't understand the morbid fascination the people had with the sentencing. Why anyone would want to watch a person get burned to death, he could never comprehend. He vaguely remembered the first time he ever attended a sentencing. He was 7 or so and it gave him nightmares for weeks. Since then, he had made it a point to always try to find some ways to excuse himself during such an event whenever possible. He hated the idea of watching one of his kind being tortured to a gruesome death like that. Or maybe he just didn't want to imagine something like that happening to him? Who knows. What did it matter anyway, he was there in the end too.
It was foolish for him to ever think he could've escaped this. It was stupid to think he could've lived a normal life. It was all because he had been a huge foolish dreamer. He could've escaped this had he followed his mother's advice. He could've escaped this had he not fallen in love with some stupid prince.
He lifted his head when the sound of the horn filled the air. The king in all his glory had entered the stage, his dark red cape billowing behind him as he turned around to sit in his all too shiny throne.
Beside him…oh, right beside him, sat the all-too-familiar figure of a beloved prince. The heartless one, next in line of the Court of Twilight. The prince of Derse, with his heart-shaped tiara and his candy red silken cape. His burning amber eyes stared at Dave with a loathing gaze.
But Dave smiled nonetheless.
He smiled at the prince; he smiled at the irony of the situation because of course, he would be there for Dave to look up to. Of course they would be back to this; him, the boy in the crowd, staring at the prince in all his splendor.
The guards chained Dave up to the wooden stake, hands bound around the coarse pole on his back. He tried to block out all the murmurings and snickering, and the disgusted noise from the people around him as he focused his gaze on to the prince.
It's alright, he told himself over through the frantic beating of his heart, his prince would be there watching through to the end.
He wouldn't be alone.
==>
“Hey, what the fuck!”
An unfamiliar voice rang through the air all of a sudden and Dave widened his eyes as he realized the man behind him pointing at his clenched up fist. He realized too late that the man had noticed the pendant in his palm and alerted the guard about it. He was too panicked to even do anything as the guard snatched the pendant from his grasp and let it hung in the air for all to see, and something inside Dave broke.
“Nobody would accompany a cursed man to his death.”
Nobody.
No one.
Nothing.
==>
“Give it back! Please don't take it away! Don't—it's—you can't— I— give it back!!”
Dave didn't realize the scream was coming from him while the air surrounding them was distorted with unrestrained and raw magic. The crowd was quickly becoming restless as the guards also stepped away in fear. Dave tried struggling, tried freeing himself from the bounding pole. He had to do something! Use magic! Anything! Just—he just had to—
A smack to his cheek snapped him out and he widened his eyes when he realized a stray piece of stone just struck him in the face. He caught sight of a little boy in the crowd who had thrown the stone at him. He recognized that kid. The little baker's son.
It was the little kid who would grin at him fondly when Dave handed him an extra piece of gold for their warm freshly baked bread. Someone who used to offer him a piece of apple pie every time he passed the small shop.
No one would accompany a sorcerer to his death.
The guards took advantage of this distraction and rushed to Dave's side, beating him up with sticks and poles. Dave sobbed out pained noises but his eyes never left the one who had his pendant. Even when the guards had stopped, and he was covered in more bruises than ever, he still had his gaze fixated on his pendant.
On his memories.
On his and Dirk's time together.
On the splinter of illusion of the bond that they shared.
Not even that, he sobbed as he watched the guard walk away from the stage. Not even that belonged to him anymore.
The tears were drenching the wounds on his face where the guards had struck him and caused dull stinging pain. Yet nothing could compare to the pain he was experiencing inside. Anguish melted into despair, fear giving way towards regret.
He hung his head and wept silently as he mourned every decision in his life. He didn't even notice the way the crowd started murmuring even louder and pointed towards him accusingly as the guards announced his 'sins' to the public. He felt numb. Dave didn't even felt fear anymore. Not even when he heard the sound of a torch being lit.
He wondered if his mother would be disappointed in him, too.
==>
Suddenly the crowd let out a collective gasp and Dave lifted his head slowly to see the guard holding the torch froze in his steps. The man who had his pendant was on the ground, unconscious. But it was the one who had knocked him out that had rendered the previously bustling crowd speechless.
Dirk?
What was he doing?
Dave widened his eyes in disbelief as the older boy bent down to pick up his discarded pendant from the ground. He had his sword unsheathed and for a moment Dave hoped Dirk would be so merciful to run it through his heart, granting him a more prideful death.
He found himself fearing that less than the fire.
“Drop that torch, right now!” Dirk barked a stern order to the soldier holding the fire. He obeyed and dropped it to the ground as if the heat of the lit ember had burned his skin. Dirk marched to the stage where Dave was being bound. “The rest of you! Move!”
Dave held his breath as he watched the soldiers move away from him. Dirk sheathed his sword and stood in front of Dave, an unreadable expression on his face. Dave thought he caught a glimpse of an apologetic look when he suddenly
very gently
moved to place the pendant around Dave's neck.
He stepped back as Dave stared at the necklace with renewed tears in his eyes. Dave lifted his face, Red meeting Orange as a big genuinely happy smile bloomed on his battered face.
“Thank you…Your Highness…”
It came out more like a sob, and it elicited yet another expression he had never seen before from the older boy. Dave didn't care though. He focused his gaze on the pendant, on the memories of warm meal and light talks, of midnight meetings and secret lessons, of roaring ember and the sound of hammer against metal as two figures huddled against one another on that one evening in the smith's workshop. The warm recollections enveloped him like a summer evening sun and erased every bit of numbness in his heart.
Even though he was certain that fear would soon replace the warmth, Dave embraced the emotion wholeheartedly.
Because he wasn't alone anymore.
==>
“What the hell are you doing, Dirk Elizabeth Strider?”
The stern voice of the king echoed throughout the field. Dave lifted his head to see Dirk still standing in front of him, on the podium where the execution would take place. The king had a held-back furious expression on his face, and the crowd was also staring at Dirk expectantly. Dave stared at his prince, only to find a resolute expression on his face. He didn't know what to expect when Dirk suddenly turned around and faced his father from the execution ground, from the podium piled with straws and wooden sticks.
From the point of view of a lowly commoner.
“I am sorry Father, but I cannot let you kill this boy,” the prince spoke with what Dave had known as his 'bargaining' tone. He stood in front the red eyed boy, arms stretched in a protective stance. The king squinted his eyes suspiciously and opened his mouth, questioning with an accusing tone that fell out like an arrow.
“And why is that?”
Dave could see that Dirk was swallowing nervously when he replied, “Because he has done no wrong,” he defended. “What he has done is save my life. You could ask everyone who was present that he stopped the attempt on my life. He did so in exchange for his secret being found out. I ask you, does such a valiant act merit death? What I see is an act of bravery and loyalty. Please tell me, Father, are we not supposed to reward such loyalty instead of punishing it with the worst kind of death?”
The crowd murmured their disbelief and the king scoffed. “An act of loyalty, you say?” he said it like Dirk had just made the most unbelievable claim in the world. “A cursed being is not capable of loyalty. If anything, he is trying to convince you that he did that out of loyalty. The forbidden act deserves death, have you not learnt that much?”
“On the contrary, Father,” Dirk retaliated. “Dave is probably the person I know with the deepest understanding of what loyalty truly is. You do not know him like I do. And neither of us know anything about this forbidden arte. But one thing that is clear is that it is not his fault, or any of those sorcerer and sorceress's fault that they were born with this...'curse'. Are we so low we are going to condemn someone because of their birth? Tell me you do not believe that it is wrong to detest someone because of how they were born.”
His word made some people in the crowd look away shamefully, although some uttered complete disagreement, they knew better than to speak out loud against the prince of the purple throne. But the king wasn't anywhere near conserved in the face of his son's challenge. Better yet, he responded with half-amusement half-mockery. “Don't be ridiculous,” he scoffed. “This 'birth' that you speak of, this is the exact cause of the countless lives lost on that day a hundred years ago. This 'condition' is what brought pain and suffering to our land. Have you not learnt the extent of the damage done to our people? Have this cur bewitched you to believe that a cursed being is capable of anything near good?”
“Dave is nothing of such!” Dirk waved his arm indignantly. “He would never do something so ridiculous as to bewitch me!”
“And how would you know that?” the king challenged back. “How would you know he wouldn't just use you for his own gain? Notice where you are right now, right where he needs you to be: protecting him from a certain death. How would you describe that as now, I wonder?”
Dirk stood tall to his father's taunting as his tone leveled into a certain and unwavering one. “Dave Lalonde is my own sworn brother,” he declared with pride, so much so that Dave's eyes started watering again. The king's response was of startlement and disbelief, yet some of the knights merely had a look of acknowledgement, even some of Dave's old 'colleagues' had a bitter look of knowing on their faces. “I describe this, me standing here protecting him now as an act of love. One does not leave his brother when he is in danger, and that's exactly why I stand here right now, because I believe in the honor that is our oath. I believe in the act of love when he saved my life.”
The murmurings in the crowd was now a mix of indignant disbelieving protestations and worried murmurs consisted of gasps and clamoring. The face of the king had shifted towards rage and his fist was clenched on the golden hilt of his sword. Dirk, however, didn't seem bothered by this and pressed on. “I beg of you, Father, consider this an act of mercy. And of justice. What happened in the past was too, of justice wasn't it? They took lives and therefore lost theirs. What Dave did was save a life, my life,” he said. “Isn't it only fair that he at least, gets to keep his in exchange? He—”
“Dirk Elizabeth Strider, you stop this nonsense right this instant!”
The king's response shook the entire ground into silence. Dave swallowed as he watched the mighty king stood from his throne. He half expected the man to order his soldiers to execute both him and the prince right at that instant, but what he did was stood still, gaze firm and posture commanding.
“Have you had enough making a fool of yourself? Now then, listen to me,” he said in a kingly voice. “A lot in the past suffered a great deal from the meddling of the sorcerers and sorceresses. They wracked the balance of our world, and some of them abused this power of theirs to squash other people beneath their feet. I understand your sentiment; not every magicians have done this kind of deplorable act, but we have made it clear: such practice are forbidden in consequences of death. We haven't been unfair; such rule exists in order to protect us, the non-magic folk. Those who commit such act, know fully well of this rule and do so acknowledging the consequences for their actions. Now tell me, if only one magic user should commit a deplorable act of taking human lives or belongings but then they also saved the life of a royalty, should I be pardoning them too? If so, wouldn't it be unfair for the people who lost their lives?”
“That—but Dave hasn't—”
“Listen to me until I'm done, Dirk Strider,” the king interrupted. “I know your little squire might not have done a thing wrong, but should I forgive him just by the fact that he saved a royalty's—your—life, then if any such similar thing were to happen again, it will require that I pardon the other people as well, disregarding whatever damage they have done in the first place. It's the way justice works.”
Dirk's eyes widened and he opened his mouth to retaliate again, but he couldn't find a thing to say. “Know that I sentenced him not because he saved your life, but because he disregarded the rules I have made clear to exist,” the old man spoke clearly, not a trace of regret in his voice. “I know your squire saved your life and I am grateful for such valiant act. However, if I start to make exceptions, I'll have to do so again in the future. And who knows what kind of people would take advantage of that. You understand we must never let our emotions get the best of us. You are the prince, so I let you get away with your little flights of fancy but I draw the line in twisting the law.”
“I won't risk the future safety of my people because of one act of loyalty, not for anyone, not even you,” he declared, a tone of finality in his voice. “That is my answer.”
Everything his father said made sense. Everything, every single defence that Dirk had in mind vanished by the words of his king. He looked down in defeat. What was he supposed to say to that? What could he say that could turn things around? With that basis, what even could he say other than–
“…I understand.”
Dirk snapped his head backwards. He didn't expect to hear the words coming from his little brother of all people. Dave was pale and his eyes squinted in poorly concealed fear but his lips were quirked in a sincere smile. “It's alright Your Highness,” he spoke with a soft trembling voice to Dirk's bewildered face. “Thank you for trying to defend me. Thank you for standing up for me.”
“I'm so glad to have met you,” he grinned widely despite the tears that were still streaming down his face and his trembling lips. “Thank you for everything.”
How?
How could Dave seemed so—so goddamn content with everything? How could such he accept Dirk's failure so easily? How did such resignation come so readily from someone so young?
It made him want to scream and tear at his hair because God, such words shouldn't be coming out of a 13 year old! A child shouldn't be at peace with death like this!
But he couldn't do anything.
Dave had saved his life in exchange for this…humiliation, punishment…and he couldn't do anything to return his act of love. He was powerless! He was the prince of the most powerful kingdom and he was powerless!
Suddenly realization dawned on him and he smiled bitterly to himself. Who was he kidding. He was not strong. He was the prince of the most powerful kingdom but he heralded not even a splinter of that power. He was always a weakling, a failure of a successor. He was the one incapable of ridding himself of his emotions. His incompetence was the cause of this. In his loneliness he dragged Dave into this whole tangled up endless string of mess that was his life. He was the reason Dave was there chained up like a sinner who never committed a single fault in his life. He was the one who roped Dave into this whole convoluted idealized form of a faux familial relationship. It was his fault and he had hoped he could've gotten him out of it.
But lo’ and behold he was useless as usual. He claimed to be the older brother and yet Dave was the one being stronger. What sort of guardian figure was he? He couldn't even protect his little brother when it really mattered. He couldn't even ask for a favor from his own father.
He sneered inwardly. Who was he again? The prince of Derse? The future king of the most powerful country?
What a fucking joke.
Dirk let his shoulders drop and he turned to his father with a resigned face. “…I understand,” he said with a polite bow. “I'm sorry for causing a scene.”
The prince slowly climbed down the stairs of the podium and took the fallen torch from the ground. He handed the torch back to the bewildered soldier and patted his shoulder. “Sorry for startling you, please, continue with your job,” Dirk said with a half-smile. “And tell that poor dude I knocked out that I'm sorry for me, will you.”
With that, he stepped to the side and bowed down a perfect 90 degree bow to the king. Such a peculiar act made Dave's brow furrow and he started questioning what Dirk was planning on doing, especially when he performed a straight about face movement and walked back to the podium. As he climbed the stairs, both Dave and the king made a similar kind of distraughted confused face.
“Your highness what—”
“Dirk what in the world do you think you're doing?”
Dirk stopped on the edge of the podium. He turned and gave a small regretful smile to his father as he spoke his reason with an unwavering tone. “It's decided that I cannot plead for Dave's life,” he said. “But it doesn't change the fact that he did save mine. And I have been extremely ungrateful and cruel in response to that act of love.”
In that moment his eyes met with Dave's and the amount of pain in the orange orb was so alien, so…foreign that it rendered the sorcerer speechless.
“So, in respect for his loyalty, and as a result of my failure to honor it, I do not mind that I should die with him.”
The crowd let out a collective horrified gasp and the king widened his eyes, jaw dropping as Dirk let out a small smile. “We swore to be brothers until we draw our last breath; I swore that I would,” he said. “You always taught me never to go back on my word. So I won't.”
With that, the prince continued marching towards the chained up Dave. Dave himself had a horrified look on his face as he met Dirk's solemn gaze. He knew that look. Dirk wasn't fooling around.
Was he seriously attempting to die with Dave?
“Your Highness, don't—please, don't do this! I don't—this is not what I—I don't want you to die too! Please stop this, stop—”
A hand covered Dave's mouth, stopping his stream of words as he watched Dirk's expression contorted into one of hurt and comfort at the same time. “Shut up. You don't get to order me around. I'm the older brother here,” Dirk gave him a pained smile. “Besides, what you want doesn't matter,” he let out a faint chuckle. “You lied to me, remember?”
Dave felt tears prickling in his eyes again because, no, this wasn't what he wanted! He didn't want Dirk to die! This is the exact opposite of what he wanted! He didn't want Dirk to—he just—
The next thing Dirk did, startled him to silence. The prince undid his long silken cape and draped it gently over Dave's naked form. The soft material enveloped him like a protective barrier that could shield him from everything. This wasn't a simple act and both Dirk and Dave knew it. For a royalty, their cape symbolised their own honor. For Dirk to be doing something like this—the act was reserved only for those deemed very important to the owner of the cape. It was to symbolise the love the royalty felt for the person given the article, and Dirk was doing it in front of everyone present. In front of his father.
To a cursed filth that was unworthy of anything.
Dave felt like his heart had leapt to his throat when suddenly Dirk began circling his arms around Dave's trembling form. He took the younger boy's head and pressed it against his shoulder. Dave then heard a gentle whisper in his ear: “I'm sorry for…for everything,” Dirk said in a very un-Dirk-like tone. “I'm not leaving you alone. I'll stay with you, no matter where you have to go.”
It was right then and there that Dave started crying like a baby again. He buried his face in the prince's shoulder as Dirk soothed him, caressing his hair gently, murmuring soft hushing sound in his ear. He felt so loved his heart felt like it would burst. What did he ever do to deserve such kindness and love, he'd never know. He felt so joyous but also very sad because this meant he would drag Dirk down with him. He had failed to protect the person most important to him and the thought of Dirk sharing his dreadful fate broke his heart.
The crowd was restless, some of them uttering distaste and disbelief, some uttering respect. And the king? Oh the king was furious. His face was red as he watched his only son rebelling against everything he had worked for. Everything the king had fought for, was it not for him? What more could the brat want? What else did he want that the king couldn't give?
Was his love so inferior to that of a fucking cur?
“Bring down the torch!” His indignant voice echoed loudly and clearly in the air. The guard holding the torch gasped and looked anxiously towards the knights who stood behind the throne. The man clad in all black was unresponsive to the silent plea of the soldier, but the other seemed to be struggling to hide a stricken expression. The knight eventually gave a nod, signalling for the soldier to obey.
Dave whimpered as he watched the unwilling purple clad man carrying the torch coming closer to his brother and himself. He felt Dirk's grip tightened and his whispering got louder.
“It's alright, just close your eyes,” he said with a trembling voice. Dave sobbed as he realised his brother too, was frightened. “It's okay. I'm right here. I've got you. I've got you Dave. Don't be scared. It'll be over soon. I promise you.”
Dave did as he was instructed; he closed his eyes and buried his face in Dirk's shoulder again. It was the most intense moment in his life as the soldier marched in unsure steps towards the execution stage. The crowd held their breath, watching silently, nervously, as the purple clad man brought down the torch slowly towards the pile of straws. Already some was catching fire from the heat igniting the petroleum. Some women on the frontmost row were already shielding their eyes.
“…stop it! Stop the execution!”
To say that the sudden order startled everyone was an understatement. Everyone's gaze immediately flew to where the command had came from: the king. As soon as he caught himself again, the soldier threw away the torch and wasted no time stomping on the already ignited straws to stop the flame from further spreading. Dave opened his eyes slowly as Dirk undid his embrace and turned to face his father, whose face was even more enraged than before if that was even possible. Nobody dared to utter a word as the king locked eyes with his son's sad but determined orange ones and for a while even the time seemed to freeze before the king opened his mouth.
“You…are…a foolish, and ungrateful child.”
The king's tone seemed to soften up at the end before he raised it again into it's usual commanding one. “Listen, all of you: today, you have watched the prince of Derse perish in the flame. Nobody, I repeat, nobody exist in the kingdom of Derse, by the name of Dirk Elizabeth Strider anymore! There is no more prince in the Court of Twilight! And I therefore banish the two of you from this land, you children of sin! Do not ever again, take another step into the sacred land of our forefathers',” the king gritted his teeth.
“…lest you're going to face death by my sword.”
Dave gasped and shook his head, barely able to open his mouth in response when beside him, Dirk took a deep bow. “…we understand. Thank you for your mercy…” he took a deep breath. “Your Majesty.”
The king gave a maddened huff before turning around, leaving the stage without anymore words to say. “Your Majesty! Your Highness—!” Dave started, but the former prince ignored him as he worked on Dave's bindings. “Your Highness, you can't just let this happen—! We can't—!”
But the former prince refused to even look at Dave in the face as he finished with the bindings. “Come on, we have to go,” he said without the slightest bit of hesitation as he walked away from the stage in a fast stride that Dave had no time to think before following the older boy's path in a rush.
The crowd parted as Dirk made his way towards the gate of the city, Dave following just a step behind. Not even once did the heartless prince look behind as the two of them continue their relentless stride.
Together with the sun, leaving the Court of Twilight into the darkness of the oncoming night.