The screeching of the metal door roused Eiden from his drowsy slump by the wall. Not bothering to raise his head, he glanced through the matted strands of his hair as light flooded into the small room, limning a shadowy silhouette standing in the threshold.
"Is this him?" A woman spoke up. The words brought a smile to Eiden's grimy face; how long had it been since he'd last heard that voice?
"Yes, imperator. It is the traitor's son you see." The jailor's reedy voice replied. Footsteps echoed — a woman's, from the curves of the shadow projected onto the floor. A pair of gleaming boots entered his field of vision, their material a rich dark blue lined with gold that flashed in the gloom. Eiden couldn't hold in his scoff.
"Is something funny, prisoner?" The woman asked, her voice tight with irritation.
With a sigh that seemed put upon, Eiden glanced up. Her skin was an unnatural pale white that almost seemed to glow, her oval-shaped face and pink lips currently twisted in revulsion. Their eyes met, his an indolent light gray, hers a deep, fathomless black.
"I was laughing at you."
The woman blinked, nonplussed. The chains attached to his wrists rattled as he gestured at her get up.
"You Vanguards are so flashy, you're even wearing gold in what I'm pretty sure is a uniform," he said, smirking as he held her gaze. "Don't you know how wasteful that is? For shame."
He relished the pools of color that filled her cheeks, the reflexive swallow that bobbed her throat. She furtively brushed her hands down her navy blue uniform, lined with the very gold that he had noted.
'Ah, Elowen. It's been so long, hasn't it?'
She cleared her throat and whirled away, walking towards the door beside which stood his jailor, a whale of a man dressed in clothes that were little better than rags.
"I could have you flogged for such blatant disrespect, Valen," she said over her shoulder. Eiden scoffed, leaning against the wall as he watched her leave; his eyes were drawn to two shapely lumps on her backside.
"And what's stopping you?" he couldn't resist throwing at her. She paused by the door and nodded to the jailor. The man perked up excitedly – too excitedly if you asked Eiden, he was positively eager – and rushed away from the doorway. The woman turned to pin him with an expression that was schooled once more, her previous fluster now a pleasant memory.
"Because, for some reason, the Diarchy has seen fit to spare you," she said. Her lips curled in a mocking smirk. "I'm sure you father's connections had nothing to do with that, of course."
"My father's dead," Eiden said in a deadpan. Her reply was an uncaring blink.
"And so?"
A rush of footsteps echoing down the hall beyond the door interrupted his reply. A heartbeat later, a group of stone-faced men and women flooded the room and approached the corner he was chained to.
"Have him washed thoroughly before he is carted. He reeks," Elowen commanded.
Eiden grunted as rough hands yanked him forward with brisk efficiency.
"I'll have you know that this aroma was hard won," Eiden drawled as the steel manacles fell from his wrists, only to be immediately replaced by binds made of cloth. "I had to endure nights of beatings and cold and hunger to develop it, so I won't have you insulting my efforts."
"By all means," Elowen swept a hand at him, "feel free to return to your squalor whenever you wish, so long as you make sure to do it as far from me as possible. For now, I will not endure your filth while acting as your escort."
With that, she left the room. Her minions dragged him along; well, it was more like two of them pulled him by his arms, while the rest flanked them as they exited the prison. Eiden made sure to catch the eyes of the jailor as he left. The whale shivered at the smirk Eiden directed at him, which only made him smirk wider. He opened his mouth to deliver an invective, only for pain to explode in his ribs as one of Elowen's minions shoved him, making his teeth come down hard on his tongue.
"Move on," the minion commanded brusquely. Eiden shot him a dark glower, but ultimately complied. They dragged him out of the prison and into the hallway beyond.
Eiden squinted at the bright light spearing through the carved openings in the wall. He stumbled a bit, his stride faltering, but the minions simply pulled him forward. Under the revealing light, Eiden could see they wore a black and silver variant of Elowen's uniform. A memory flitted through his mind, of him dressed in the exact same clothes, of blood and dust and tears crusting its woolen fabric and darkening the silver accents that lined it. He dismissed it with a shake of his head, when Elowen's voice spoke up.
"We do not have any time to waste." She was a couple paces ahead of them, standing at a crossroads that connected with another hallway. "The moment you're presentable, your documents will be prepared, and we'll be on our way to Meridia. So, if you can find a way to recuperate while you're getting ready, take it."
She vanished into the second hallway with a flourish. Eiden's lips quirked up in amusement.
"She's such a kindhearted hardass, isn't she?" he muttered rhetorically, not expecting a reply. He got one anyway.
"She is!" a bright, peppy voice spoke up next to him. Eiden blinked; he recognized that voice. He turned and there she was; a lithe, blond short-stack of a woman, who was smiling in admiration at the hallway that Elowen had just vanished into.
"Selan?"
The woman blinked and met his gaze, her green eyes widened in surprise.
"Huh? How do you know my…"
"That's enough, Selan," the minion on the other side of him interrupted gruffly, his voice snapping Selan's mouth shut with a click. "We don't have time for idle banter; you can fraternize with the boy once he is awakened."
The girl blushed and looked away, now pointedly ignoring Eiden. The boy in question felt a stab of hurt, but he was mostly preoccupied with figuring out what the hells Selan was doing here!
'Isn't she supposed to be in Drevantis by now? Or at least on her way to Meridia?'
Images of the girl flitted through his mind. Her blond hair, her bright green eyes, her steadfast loyalty.
Her hands stained with blood as she looked down at a mangled corpse with cold, empty eyes.
As he was led away, Eiden fell silent, preoccupied with one thought; what else had changed, and what could he do about it?
--------------------------------------
"Ladies, ladies, I'm pretty sure I can make my way to my room, can't I?"
The guards flanking Eiden said nothing; not like he expected them to.
"Honestly, this is getting a bit annoying. First you watch as I take my bath, and now you want to watch me get dressed? What are you, perverts?"
Nothing. He sighed. Tough crowd.
It was a bit over half an hour later, and Eiden was currently naked. Well, almost totally naked, if it wasn't for the cloth tied around his waist, preserving what modesty he had left. Water dripped from his skin, and steam radiated from him, remnants of the bath that he had just left. The stone floor was cold against his bare feet as he walked through a nearly abandoned hallway. He glanced around as he walked, at the austere stone walls, the occasional stone busts and empty armor, the gloomy ambiance created by the weak light filtering through holes barely wide enough to fit his fist through.
He'd walked through these halls dozens of times. Maybe even hundreds, he couldn't remember.
He hoped he wouldn't have to walk them again. This…this had to be the last time. The last try. He was so…tired.
"Move it, traitor!"
Eiden jumped at the harsh command, realizing that he'd paused in the middle of the hall, lost in thought. With a sigh, he resumed walking. He knew where he had to go, even though he'd never been there…in this life. Before the guards could lead him on, he was traversing through the twisting halls ahead of them, following a convoluted pathway that was designed to confuse prisoners in transit. He had walked through these halls more times than he could remember though, so it was easy to navigate.
He could tell that it irritated and disconcerted his escorts, with the way they occasionally glanced at him and at each other. He couldn't keep the smug smile from his face.
Eventually, they arrived. Eiden shouldered through the ornate double-doors, entering large and well-appointed room.
He made his way towards the clothes folded and arranged on the central table. With no heed to modesty, he discarded the robe protecting his modesty, pulled on the cheap, slightly ratty tunic and trousers, and then turned to the room's other occupant with an innocent smile.
"You…!" she spat, her eyes blown wide and her cheeks radiating a vivid, flaming red.
"Me," Eiden purred as he took the seat across from her. She was poised on a high-back chair, her legs crossed and her expression flustered and annoyed. She'd been cool as a cucumber when he'd walked in, but it was evident that his disregard of her presence had thrown her off balance, just like she'd tried to do to him.
'I'm not that easy, El,' he thought, a deep coldness running underneath his innocent expression. 'This isn't a naïve boy you'll be able to pressure to do anything you want.'
Elowen shook her head, regaining her composure. She shuffled the parchments she held in her hands, frowning as she held them out to him.
"This is the contract that will bind you to the Vanguards," she began, a slight tremble in her voice the only sign of her fluster. "I'll need you to sign it."
"Shouldn't I read it first?"
"I'm afraid there's no time for that," she said unapologetically. "We have no time to waste, Valen. Your saving grace only extends to this day. If you are not a Vanguard by sunset, then consider your life forfeit."
She smiled, a mocking, derisive grin that still managed to look beautiful on her pale face.
"You wouldn't want that, would you, Valen?"
"Indeed, I wouldn't," Eiden said, his smile still fixed in place as he took the papers from her. This was how the Confederacy worked after all. The illusion of choice, except that's all it is; an illusion.
He didn't bother even skimming them. He already knew everything written down there; this same scene had played out a thousand different ways, in times that never were.
"Pin?"
She held out the blood pin. Eiden took it from her, pierced his thumb with it, and pressed it on the space provided. The Elusien script written on it glowed briefly, and he could feel it: the pressure in his chest, like chains wrapping around his heart.
All the while they maintained eye contact, fake smile on fake smile.
'Now. How do I save a world that wants me dead?'