Chapter Text
Seventy years.
Seventy years its been, since my brothers were defeated, since my children defeated them. When my brother was dragged in, broken and unconscious, his empire crumbling around him, our people cheered. I had never seen Peculiars so happy, even my own who spent the next year bragging. It was I, alone, who was sad that day.
With his eyes closed, my brother looked so human. It was hard to believe that just outside of this decrepit asylum that serves as our base of operations, people were banging on the doors, screaming, demanding for his death. They couldn't even agree how to do it. They ruled out hanging, beheading, anything that would be quick and relatively painless. They wanted him dead and they wanted him to suffer in the mostly slow and gruesome ways. I thought it was barbaric of them, seeing them so easily plead for such primal and medieval things. I couldn't image having such horrible things happen to my brother, but I understand why they felt that way.
In the end I couldn't do it. As much as I wanted to give my people the justice they deserved, I couldn't let him die. Everyone disapproved, but out of pity, my ymbryne sisters allowed me to put him away in a punishment loop. He didn't even get a proper trial, another thing I robbed them of. 300 Years. That's what we decided. Three hundred years and if he survives it without going insane... We'd see from there.
Well. It hasn't been three hundred years. Today I was going to do something that may make then riot again. I haven't even warned the children for fear of their disapproval. The only one who knows is Miss Isabel Cuckoo, my partner in running the academy and Co-head of the council. This will be a great secret, one I hope to figure out a way to break to the public without being over thrown.
Yes, today is the day that the parole of Jack Bentham begins.
Birds help me.
---
I went all the way out to Scotland to retrieve him personally. The panloopticon has no punishment loops captured within it, so I had to go through several to get here. He is brought out in chains. Unnecessary ones. He is only a man, how much can he do without an army or a library at his disposal? The home guard I brought with me drag him roughly from the small rock formation near the castle, that served as the doorway to the Punishment loop I stuck him in.
His head is down and he says nothing to the men who drag him towards me. Even still, I can see how his hair has grown out and thinned in some places. He was skinnier, so much so that his blood stained shirt was fully off one of his shoulders. He drags his feet, showing no resistance, only weakness. I was jarring to see him this way. He was almost the most powerful unstoppable being on our world, and now here is a broken starving man.
I can not bare to look at it.
They stop right in front of me and he begin to lift his head. For a moment, I can almost perceive surprise in his dead eyes. That, along with a century's worth of exhaustion.
"I'm not hallucinating, am I?" His first words to me strike something in my heart. Even his voice is slightly different, at least from what I remember. I suppose spending so long in middle age Scotland can do that to someone. I pull myself together as much as I can, unable to hide my hesitance when I respond.
"No, you aren't. Everything is real."
Caul looks down at himself, the chains he has been wrapped in. "Is this really necessary?"
"It helps them feel better," I say, nodding at the guards who stand behind him, unable to hid their distaste for the situation.
"Not you?" His voice still takes on that slightly condescending tone, but it is raspy and tired.
"No. Not me."
---
It was foolish of me to do this so suddenly. I hadn't thought it all the way through, something I hardly ever do. This impulsive action could be my downfall, but I cant take it back now. He was unchained and cloaked before I could sneak him back to the council building. Even after all this time, we still use Devil's Acre as our hub. Though we've renovated the former punishment loop quite nicely, if I do say so myself.
I hope he doesn't notice yet.
He's smart enough to stay silent until I can get him behind closed doors. We're in the basement, where it is the most leaky and dingy. I have to say, I still dreadfully miss the old council building.
"It hasn't been three hundred years." He says as I remove the cloak from his body, unable to resist going full mother hen mode at the sight of him. He has blood and dirt caked all over his skin.
"No, It has not." I respond, wringing out a wet rag and reaching over to clean him up a bit. As soon as I reach for him, he pulls back.
"How long has it been?"
I'm hesitant again. He seems weak, but still I cant help but think he'll laugh for this. He always thought I was too sentimental. "Seventy."
He lets his weak eyes close and a light smirk move across his pale and chapped lips. He does not laugh, but I can tell he wants to. "Not even a full hundred. Finally decided it was time, did you? I figured you wouldn't let your people riot for so long. Well," He sits up a little, opening his white eyes to me. "Go on then, I'm ready."
I sit confused for a moment. "Ready for what?" I ask, brow furrowed. I still hold up the rag to him despite his pulling away.
"Well you took me out to execute me, did you not?"
My eyes widen, horrified at the thought. Despite everything that's happened, I couldn't kill him. No part of me ever wanted to. "Of course not!"
"What then? Keep me as a pet? Gloat at your victory?"
"No. I am not like you." My hand lowers the rag back on the table. Clearly he does not want my help.
"No, of course you aren't." His sarcasm is evident in his voice, no matter how weary he may be. "What is your plan then, Sister?"
I take in a deep breath. This is taking more of a tool on my heart than I thought it would.
This was a terrible idea.
"Rehabilitation."