Work Text:
NATE
The dining hall was quiet. Tonight, there was no grand party, no courtiers filling the halls, no music, and no dancing. Only the king, the queen, and I sat at the over-large banquet table in tense silence, the soft clink of silverware on fine china the only sound to break up the eerie quiet. We ate by candlelight, our oil long since burned out, and our lanterns dark.
"Well, this is lovely," Mother said. She was trying, but I knew she didn't mean that. Over the last month, she'd turned thin, and her face was always lined with tension.
My father raised his wine glass and downed its contents in a few swallows. This was his fourth glass, and that was only what I'd seen before we'd come to the dining hall to join him. He was drunk - worse than I'd ever seen - and he could barely stand straight.
I'd opted for water, though these days, I found myself wishing I could down a bottle of the best Elarian wine we had. Still, I'd made a promise once, and regardless of whether or not Alaric was around to see it, I was keeping my word to him.
"I heard there was more commotion in the lower city," I said.
Father glanced over at me, his eyes bloodshot and bleary. He was drunk more than not these days. It kept his nerves down. Or, he must think it did because he was drinking to excess and I didn't see a reason for it otherwise.
"The Corpsmen handled it," he said.
"What happened?"
"Nathaniel, please. Can't we have a nice dinner?" Mother asked.
"We can have dinner and talk at the same time, can't we?" I replied.
Mother raised her wine glass to her bloodred lips and took a sip, leaving a stain as red as the wine on the clear glass. I noticed her hand shaking as she set it down again. She didn't reply to me.
"There is nothing to speak of," the king said. "The Corpsmen handled the situation."
I couldn't help worrying whenever something happened. Any bit of news from the Lower End drew me like a moth to flame. Fear and morbid curiosity made me seek out every scrap I could gather. Every time the king sent out reinforcements, my heart turned to lead in my chest, and I wondered if this would be it... If they would find Alaric and kill him.
"Was it Alaric?" I asked.
Both flinched as if he were some kind of evil spirit who would be summoned if they mentioned his name.
"Listen to your mother, Nathaniel. I'm sure she'd prefer a different topic, don't you think?"
I stared at him, and he watched me back, even as he poured himself another glass. His expression was void of emotion. He didn't look afraid, angry, or sad—he just looked empty. I could almost feel sorry for him.
Almost.
Any time I felt too close to pitying him, I remembered him standing over Alaric while they tortured him. I remembered how cold he'd been and how little he'd cared. How he'd scolded me after, for my "weakness". I thought back to the way Alaric had been all my life... Hollow and quiet, with a far-off look in his eyes. All the times he'd moved a bit too stiffly, or winced when I raised a hand too quickly. Remembering that made it simple to look my father in the eye and pray he lost the war.
I smiled across the table at him and raised my glass. "Of course. You're right. We wouldn't want to upset you, Mother."
When I turned to meet her gaze, I did try to soften the sharpness a bit. I didn't think she was part of any of this. Just caught in the middle like I was. She certainly hadn't seen what I'd seen, and I'm sure it would have upset her too much to know about that, so even if I wanted to ask her, I didn't. Maybe I just didn't want to know if she knew, because it would feel like too much of a betrayal.
The door across the room burst open, and all three of us spun to look.
Two men entered - one of the king's personal guards and a Corpsman. The Corpsman had a black eye and blood running from his nose, and he leaned heavily on the other man as they limped toward the table.
"Your Highness, Captain Hershal has an urgent message. I told him to wait but he insisted he needed to deliver this news immediately."
The king sat up straighter and glanced at the queen. "Livian, you should retire for the evening."
She didn't even try to argue. Without bothering to finish her food, she stood and swept across the floor in quick strides, passing the Corpsman with a good margin to spare and not glancing back once.
After a moment, the king looked at me, as if he meant to send me away too. I wouldn't go. Something in the set of my shoulders or the look in my eyes must have told him, because he turned without speaking a word to me, and raised a hand toward the men at the door.
"Speak."
Captain Hershal stumbled forward, unsteady on his feet. The scent of acrid smoke hung heavy around him, and I wondered what happened. My heart pounded behind my ribs wondering if today was the day... If the Corpsmen had found Alaric. If they'd captured him or killed him. My hands tightened on the arms of my chair as I fought to keep a neutral look on my face.
"Your Highness..." the Corpsman glanced sideways at me before returning his gaze to the king. "Permission to speak freely?"
"Granted," my father said, sipping at his wine and then swirling the bloodred liquid in the glass, his gaze transfixed as he waited for the Corpsman to continue.
" I..." Hershal coughed. "I was stationed at the Black Garrison in the east district. The garrison was attacked tonight."
My father's gaze snapped up. "The garrison in the Upper Side?"
"Yes, Sire. The rebels... They killed everyone," he said, choking the last three words out through tears. "All my men... everyone was slaughtered."
I felt a rush of cold sweep through me and my stomach tied itself into knots. Jacob and David were both stationed there. They were my friends. I'd spoken to Jacob just three weeks ago. He was dead.
The king's empty expression turned to anger, then suspicion. "Everyone? Then how is it that you escaped alive, and relatively unharmed?"
The captain - his face soot-stained, with tear tracks running down his blackened cheeks - didn't look suspicious to me. He looked broken.
"The mage left me alive to deliver a message."
I didn't think it was possible to feel worse than I had moments ago, but I did. It wasn't only the rebels. Not some faceless strangers who'd killed people I'd known since I was a boy. It was Alaric. I thought I might be sick. I knew he'd started a rebellion. I knew men had died. But I'd always been able to separate it from him. Or at least, I'd never been very close with anyone who'd died.
"Nathaniel," The king sat statue still as he looked from the Corpsman to me. "Go."
I thought of putting up a fight, but I knew how my father was. He'd order me out, and if I didn't go, he'd call men to escort me, so instead, I rose to my feet, still half numb with shock, and headed toward the door as my mother had done, without a backward glance. I stepped into the hall, and then - when the door shut - I pressed an ear to the door and listened.
"Speak," came the king's muffled voice. "What did the mage tell you?"
"He said, this was only the beginning. You can hide in the castle but it won't keep him out forever. He said it was easy to..." the Corpsman stopped, his voice quavering, "He said it was easy to sneak into the garrison... to kill my men and burn it all down. He said it was easy."
The king said nothing for several long moments.
Finally, he spoke. "Anything else?"
"There was one thing... He said, Tell the king I know what he hid from me."
Glass shattered, breaking the silence after the Corpsman's words. Curiosity and concern got the best of me. I pushed the door open, regardless of the fact that everyone would realize I hadn't retired to my room.
The king sat in his chair, shoulders slumped and face ashen. Bloodred wine stained the floor at his feet, pooling around him like a crimson mirror and bits of glass reflected candlelight like tiny stars. My father looked like he'd seen a ghost. He didn't even seem to notice I'd come back into the room.
"Your Highness?" his guard asked.
The king's hands grasped at the edge of his chair, white-knuckled. He looked like he might be ill, and the guard's words played back through my mind as I searched for what might've given him a reason to react this way.
"Tell the king I know what he hid from me."
What did that mean?
Before I had a moment to think about it, commotion burst into life around me.
"Someone send for the doctor!" my father's personal guard shouted.
Running footsteps sounded in the hall, and my father listed heavily to one side, bracing himself with an elbow on the table. The part of me that hadn't known the truth wanted to rush to him and ask if he was all right. Instead, I stood with my feet rooted to the ground, staring at him.
The way the wine stained his boots reminded me of Alaric's blood on the stone floor of the tower. The dim candlelight reflecting off of it made me feel ill. I shifted my gaze and looked at the king's face, instead.
He still hadn't acknowledged my return. He looked stunned.
Finally, I spoke in a low, careful voice. "Father?"
He winced, as if he'd been struck, and finally looked up to find me standing in the doorway. "What are you doing here?" he asked, and though I was certain he meant that to come out in a commanding tone, his voice was a whisper.
"Are you unwell?" I stepped toward him, reminding myself that I should at least act concerned. He was drunk. Perhaps I might dig answers out of him.
"Too much wine," he mumbled.
Of that, I had no doubt. But I'd heard the Corpsman's words. I knew it was more than he was telling me.
"What did the Corpsman want?"
"You heard him. The garrison was attacked. His men are all dead. It's a terrible blow. I told you..." he said, looking up at me. "I told you the mage was a danger. I... " he cut himself off.
I didn't bother telling him Alaric wasn't a danger. That wasn't true anymore. But he never would've done this if the king hadn't held him captive all his life and tortured him. Alaric wouldn't have hurt a fly before... But the Corpsmen had backed him into a corner, and he'd fought back. It was as simple and as awful as that. My best friend had been directly responsible for the deaths of two more of my friends, and it felt like a knife to the gut.
"What does Alaric think you kept from him?" I asked.
The king's eyes flicked back and forth as he took in the sight of me. "I told you he was dangerous. You have no idea how much worse this will get, Nathaniel."
"You were right," I said, nodding. Maybe if I played this right, he might give more information. If he thought I agreed - that I'd "seen the light."
The king swayed a bit and sighed, then braced his elbows on his knees and dropped his head into his hands.
"Father... What is it? You can tell me. I should've listened to you, but I can help you now. I know Alaric better than anyone. With my help, you can catch him. But I need to know what information he thinks he has, so I can guess what his next move is."
"It's no use."
"What?"
"I was wrong. I made a terrible..." he paused, then continued, barely audible, "It was a mistake."
I frowned down at a man who - for so much of my life - I looked up to as someone strong. I too, had been wrong. He was a weakling and a coward, and I should've seen it sooner.
"We can still fix it," I offered. "Just tell me what's happening so I can track him down and stop more bloodshed."
That, at least, wasn't a lie. I did want this to end. It was bad enough that people from the Lower End and the Upper Side were dying. But... Now it was so close to home. I didn't want this war to go on, and I didn't want anyone else to have to suffer. Maybe I could find a peaceful way to end things.
The king looked up at me through bloodshot eyes. "Leave me," he said.
"Father..."
"Go, Nathaniel. This mistake is mine alone to correct."
I huffed. "And what of Commander Giles?" I knew he'd been sent to hunt Alaric.
Apparently, that was not the right thing to say. My father hunched further over himself, and mumbled, "Oh gods."
I wondered if maybe he was regretting the fact he'd treated Alaric so badly, now that it was so plainly too late for regret. If Alaric had resorted to slaughtering an entire garrison, he wasn't going to be the same person I remembered. He would be... different. I didn't know if he'd care whether the king regretted anything or not.
"Tell me..."
Before I finished, a rush of footsteps sounded in the hall, and suddenly we were surrounded. There was the king's physician, two servants, and a dozen guards.
"Take him to his private chambers," the physician said. "I'll examine him there."
They helped him to his feet and broken glass crunched beneath his boots. The wine had not done him any favors. I suspected that if he'd been sober, he might have been able to keep his wits, but he'd been so deep in his cups that he wasn't in control of himself at all.
"Father, give me something to work with. Should I speak to Giles?"
"Stay away from this, Nathaniel."
It was the last thing he said before his men helped him out of the dining hall and a swarm of servants came to collect the uneaten food and clear away the shattered glass and crimson wine. I didn't know what to think or what to feel. I dropped into my father's empty chair and watched in a daze as the servants worked.
Every man in the garrison was dead. Jacob, David, and two dozen other men. Gone. I knew we were at war, but I couldn't help but feel sick. I was at least partly responsible for whatever happened. I helped Alaric escape and men were dying because of that. But... If I could do it again, I would. Gods forgive me, I would. He was my friend, and he deserved to be free. The bloodshed never would have happened if my father had let him go.
I pressed my palms against my eyes and tried to remember what the Corpsman had said...
I know what he hid from me.
What did that mean?