Trigger warnings: injuries, mentions of prison abuse

A shiver ran through his thin frame as he lay limp on the stone floor of his cell. The film of sweat coating his body only worsened the chill. He huddled into a tight ball, mindful of the bruises and wounds covering him, and gripped his tattered shirt with both fists. The thin fabric did nothing to alleviate the penetrating cold.

He flinched violently as a metallic clanking noise sounded from somewhere nearby. His brain was too tired to try to figure out what it was, but he knew it probably meant impending pain. That was all it ever meant. Towards the beginning of his stay in the luxurious quarters that was the Corona prisons, he had tried to analyze every sound, memorize every guard rotation, never sure when this information might aid him.

He wasn't even sure how long ago that was. Time had no meaning down here. He was fairly certain this was intentional, as the guards never seemed to bring their sparse meals on a consistent schedule. There were no windows in the lower levels, so no sunlight or moonlight reached his eyes.

A second clanging noise, this time somewhat recognizable as metal against hard stone, sent him curling further into himself. His aching body protested the movement, and he gave a sharp gasp of pain. He quickly bit back the sound.

His pounding head spun psychotically as he attempted to look up. He groaned quietly and put his head back down. The fever had sprung up sometime yesterday—or was it the day before? The dank, musty atmosphere of the cell pained his lungs, and he alternated between freezing to death and feeling like a fire resided in his bones. The guards had had no mercy for his weakened condition and had continued their harsh treatment of him.

Where, oh where was Ruddiger? His faithful friend had been taken from him upon his arrival. The little raccoon had been a constant source of comfort for him up to and throughout the events leading to his imprisonment. When the blizzard had raged outside his lab, Ruddiger had stayed curled up next to him, providing his own warmth to the frigid child. How he longed to have him here now, to ease the pain and loneliness he suffered from in this living nightmare!

But wasn't that selfish of him? The words of the guards rang through his tormented mind. Selfish brat. Doesn't care about anyone but himself. Willing to hurt others just to get his way. If Ruddiger were here now, he would be trapped in this dark hole just like his human. Maybe the guards had let him out into the woods. Maybe he was relaxing somewhere in an apple orchard. Maybe he would even find a new human, a better one, one who wouldn't mutate him into a beast to further his own plans.

A third metallic sound. A key in a lock. Screeching hinges as his cell door was pushed open. Varian curled further into his protective ball, knowing it would do nothing against the heavy boots the guards wore. His breathing quickened against his will. Gone were the days when he could look his tormentors in the eye and feign a confidence of sorts.

A hand touched his arm. He flinched away from the contact. Nononono don't hurt me why can't you just leave me alone –

Expecting the hand to grab him and drag him roughly to his feet the way they always did when he was unable to move on his own, he was surprised to feel it suddenly release him. He tried to look up again but was met with a wave of dizziness that threatened to send him into unconsciousness. A voice said something that he couldn't understand. Then strong arms were gently lifting him, supporting him against a muscular chest. A wave of panic flashed through the little prisoner, and he tried weakly to twist out of the hold. His efforts were in vain, and the person holding him readjusted their grip slightly to keep him from falling.

Despite the fog clouding his brain, Varian was aware that the chest he was leaned against was covered in fur rather than metal armor. That, combined with the fact that he was being carried rather than dragged, was enough to open the possibility that this was not a guard. Rather than feeling relieved, this only made him struggle more. Who was the stranger? What did he want with him? Where were they going? If he wanted to kill him, he could have very well done that back in the cell. Was he being taken away for a more sinister purpose? They would have sent a guard escort if that was the case.

None of the puzzle pieces were fitting together in his fevered mind. So he did the only thing he could think to do. He kept struggling. The stranger shifted him again, and this time Varian was able to understand what he was saying.

"Stop wiggling unless you want us to get caught. I'll knock you out myself."

Varian gritted his teeth. "Put…me…down." His voice was weak and raspy.

The stranger groaned, then tossed the boy over his shoulder. "Seriously. Do you want these guys to catch us? I don't think they'll appreciate seeing you out of your cell. Now stop moving."

The sudden motion set Varian's head spinning again. This time he lost the battle to stay awake.

O?O?O?

Hector could count the number of times he had been truly, deeply mad on one hand.

Right now, he was furious.

Word had spread about the battle in Old Corona. Apparently it had caused quite the stir throughout the Seven Kingdoms. Remembering that Old Corona was where his estranged brother had chosen to settle down and pretend he didn't have a family, the warrior had decided to drop in for a visit. Not that he was concerned, of course. Quirin could handle himself. Certainly no worry about the older warrior at all. No, just idle curiosity.

The first person he had asked had stared at him in shock, then responded flippantly that he hoped the two hadn't been close.

Following the rumor trail, Hector had found Quirin's encased form and learned that it was apparently his own son that had done this. The boy had brought an entire kingdom to his knees, attempted to murder the queen and a handmaiden, and killed his father. The villagers had had no shortage of cruel things to say about the traitor. Hector's opinion of the boy sank lower with every person he asked. Then he had run across one little old lady.

Quirin's son… Ah, yes, I remember him. Varian. A sweet child, or at least he was. Always made me a special medicine to help my joints. Much better than that stuff the physician charged a fortune for. And the little dear wouldn't take a penny in payment. Just said he was happy to help. Oh, his age? He was… gracious, fourteen, I think? Yes, thirteen or fourteen. What? No, he was just a little thing. Hardly bigger around than a sapling. Couldn't put meat on that boy's bones for nothing. Shame about his father. And I never saw the boy after that horrible blizzard. Wondered what happened to him. Then they said he kidnapped the queen. Doesn't sound like him, not at all. He'd never hurt a fly. Wonder what they did with him…

After that, the story changed rapidly. When questioned further, people admitted that yes, he had seemed like a good child, just reckless and dangerous. But they'd never expected something like this from him.

Finally, Hector had made up his mind to visit this alchemist for himself. He had marched down to the dungeons and politely requested to be allowed to see him. (Note: politely in this circumstance meant not threatening the guard with a sword.) The guard had denied him entrance at first, but Hector had informed him that his brother was one of the fatalities caused by that boy's actions. That changed the man's tone. Eager to assure the warrior that the boy was in fact being punished, he had showed him the way to Varian's cell.

Hector wasn't sure what he expected. It certainly wasn't the tiny, frail child huddled into a ball to try to escape the torment he received at the hands of the guards and shaking from the cold. Upon further inspection, he could see the numerous cuts and bruises riddling the child's body. They looked to be untreated, and several appeared to be infected. There were also burn marks across his arms.

Has he not received medical attention?

Of course not. The little brat doesn't deserve it. Now he knows how we felt thanks to his attack. You know, one of his machines knocked me out. Sprained my ankle. I was limping for a week!

That was when Hector had slammed the man's helmeted head against the wall.

He had snatched his keys and unlocked the boy's cell. He didn't look any better up close. When Hector reached out and touched his arm, he flinched away and curled up tighter. Hector winced. Storms, kid, what did they do to you? Pulling the child into his arms, he had quickly turned and made his way back through the dungeon.

Now here he was, carrying a limp, feverish twig of a boy who may or may not have murdered his father, and why? Because he was his nephew? Better wait to consider him that until he knew if he meant to kill Quirin. Because he was just a little kid? Because he was suffering undue abuse at the hands of cruel guards who held a petty grudge for scrapes and bruises?

Whatever the reason, something had flared to life in Hector's breast. This kid may not have had the best reputation, but neither did Hector. If Quirin were here right now, he would likely have done the same thing. Well, he probably would have tried to reason with the jailors first. He was always a stickler for the rules like that. But to allow a child to be beaten and tortured? Never.

When Hector threw the boy over his shoulder to keep him from wiggling out of his arms, he felt him give one last jerk, then fall still. "Crap. You better not die on me, kid." He slipped out past the guards' turned backs—honestly, the Dark King would have had the Brotherhood's heads if they'd been so careless—and into the night. Certain now the child would not cause any problems, he gently shifted him back into his arms the proper way. Hanging upside-down from the warrior's shoulder could not be good for him in his current condition.

The door leading to the outside led into what looked like a training field for the guards. Hector kept to the shadows, ducking around equipment and watching for guards. He had almost made it across the field to where his bearcats were waiting, but just as he stepped out towards the archway leading outside the field, his path was blocked by a woman.

She stood about 5'5" to his 6'10", but that seemed to bother her none whatsoever as she bravely stared him down. "What do you think you're doing out here?"

Hector mentally cursed himself. How had he missed her? Was his skill that faded that a tiny little woman could evade his attention? She held her back ramrod-straight and showed no sign of fear at the sight of a warrior lesser men trembled before.

Hector decided he liked her nerve.

"I could ask you the same thing," he shot back.

One of her eyebrows shot up. "I'm not skulking about in the shadows carrying a child. Are you a kidnapper?"

"Kidnapper? Of course not!" He had to admit, though, he did seem a little suspicious.

"Then what exactly—" She broke off suddenly as she stepped closer and caught a glimpse of the child. "My goodness! Is that Varian? What happened to him?" She suddenly glared at him fiercely. "Did you do this?"

"No! Listen, lady, I don't hurt kids, and I don't take kindly to people who do."

"Then how did he…" She gasped and put her hand to her mouth. "No… tell me they didn't—Fred promised to get him help!"

Hector rolled his eyes. "Well, if this is Fred's idea of 'help,' I think he's 'helped' enough. It's time for someone who actually cares to do something. That's my job."

She seemed to come to some conclusion, and she met his eyes sternly. "You're trying to protect him."

"Yes." Despite his uncertainty about this child, he would not allow this horrendous excuse for "justice" to continue.

The lady nodded. Then she took off her cloak and placed it over Varian, tucking it around his still-shivering frame. She arranged the material around his head to cover his hair stripe without blocking his ability to breathe. "Here. If they see his hair, they'll recognize him. Get him somewhere safe."

He looked at her in surprise. "Why do you want to help him?"

She met his yellow eyes with a look of compassion he hadn't expected. "He's just a child. If I had known… I never would have let this happen. I'm ashamed of myself for not checking in on him." She took a shuddering breath, letting her steely composure slip for a second. "Take care of him."

He dropped his guarded expression as well. "I will. Thank you." Then a thought occurred to him. "Why do you trust me to help him? You don't even know me."

"You're right. I don't. But I'm hardly capable of stopping you should you choose to leave with him. And besides, if it was my husband who ordered this—" she gestured to Varian's scarred frame— "Letting him go with you might be the better option." She searched his eyes once more. "Why do you want to protect him?"

He hesitated only a second before answering. "He's family. My brother's son."

Her eyes widened. Then she nodded and started to step aside to let him pass.

Hector started to go, but the door behind him suddenly burst open and two guards rushed out. "Your majesty!" one of them exclaimed. "Are you alright?"

The woman gasped at the sudden interruption and put a hand to her heart. "I'm alright, Stan. Thank you."

Hector's body went rigid, and he quickly forced himself to relax. The last thing he needed was to look even more suspicious, if that was even possible.

Apparently it was. "Who are you?" the second guard snapped as they approached the couple. Well, trio, including his nephew's unconscious body.

He quickly adopted a casual tone. "Just out for a walk, fellas. My nephew fell asleep, bless his heart. Poor thing's exhausted."

The guards shared a look, clearly not convinced. One of them stepped closer. "Mind if I see him? All sorts of nutjobs out and about these days. Never know who's a kidnapper."

"No problem," he responded easily. As the guard got closer and reached for the cloak covering Varian's hair, Hector threw a roundhouse kick directly to the man's face. He crumpled to the ground. The second guard met the same fate before he could so much as move.

"I do apologize for the violence, Your Majesty," Hector said politely to the woman. She was staring in shock at the two unconscious guards. "They'll be fine in a few minutes. Now if you'll excuse me…" He stepped around her and slipped past the archway to his waiting companions.