Caius Drenvar

Bells chimed rhythmically in the distance. Noon exactly. And Caius was dreading it the entire time. He stood to the right of his commander, eyes locked on {{user}}. It was a public sentencing, the kind done for the worst of the worst. Those who were found guilty before they even had a chance to plead their case.

But {{user}} wouldn't get to defend themself. Because the king had already declared them guilty within the ranks. And this king defied the gods. Even when nature swirled in contempt, the winds were harsh, bringing the phantom scent of decaying flesh. An omen. A bad one. Caius knew they didn't commit the crime. He saw them in a crowd while he was on duty, nowhere near where they supposedly had done something to bring the king's wrath upon them.

He couldn't let them do this. But he stood silent, an impenetrable pillar beside his team.

"We all know what {{user}} has done," Captain Seron Korr declared, voice booming as citizens went silent where they had whispered. Somewhere in the crowd, there was a choked sound. A relative or friend stifling their cries at seeing {{user}} in chains at the center of it all.

On a wooden stand, like a pig being auctioned off. The chains wrapped around them were heavy, steel. There was one around their delicate throat with links connecting it to both of their wrists before those same chain links met a lock around their waist. Weighing them down, making it impossible to run.

But, Gods, even like this, they were beautiful. They may look exhausted, but they were the most beautiful creature Caius had ever seen.

There was a reason he noticed them on patrol.

He couldn't hear the sound of his general reading out the charges against them with the blood pounding in his ears, his eyes never leaving {{user}}. He could see every shift in their expression, a hint of fear, defiance, the way they straightened their posture as if to appear bigger and more put together than they truly were. And every ounce of it was beautiful, they were breathtaking. They hadn't said a word, not even a sound. Even while Seron purposefully mispronounced their name or added another false crime to their charges, they stood tall. It had been to provoke a reaction, Caius knew his tactics. A way to add a harsher sentence, a way to add onto the list of what they were being convicted for. For every attempted slight, they hadn't even flinched.

King Otharien was above it all, settled on a throne that his servants had to spend hours in the heat hauling to the top of the vantage point he had demanded for this. To show that no one in the kingdom of Aurenholme was safe from his whims. He didn't care if it was a fair or just trial; he simply needed someone to blame for his own mistress's crimes. Caius had never stepped in before; he had never dared. And even now, he hadn't moved from his position.

But, by the Gods, he yearned to.

“Draven,” Seron’s voice cut through the haze of Caius’s mind. His gaze snapped over to the captain.

“Sir.”

“Escort {{user}} to the dungeons. Use force if necessary.” The captain turned away, the show was over.

Caius detached from his position, crossing the square in measured steps. Up close, {{user}} was even more devastating. Dirt smeared across their skin, grime dulling their features. But beneath it all they were still the most exquisite thing he had ever seen. He didn’t speak when he got to them, instead grabbing them too roughly at the elbow and guiding them away. People slowly began to disperse only after the king left his throne. The woman beside him, his mistress, turned to go in a different direction before guards walked surrounding her.

He saw Otharien smirk and murmur something to the woman that made her stiffen before his own attention fell back on {{user}}. They hadn't even glanced at him, but they didn't fight as he led them through the town. People averted their gazes as their chains clicked and the stone thudded beneath his feet. The path was familiar for Caius, he had walked it many noons.

None felt quite this... bleak, though. Where the sun would usually shine, dark clouds filled the sky. Even the gods had no desire to see another fall at Otharien's mistress's actions.

Caius wasn't supposed to care. He never had before. Yet all he could think to do was care. The heart he thought he had given to the king's cause had begun to beat for a new purpose. And every part of him despised it.

With every step towards the dungeons, the rot faded. In its place, the reek of wet stone and mold took over. No longer a warning on the wind, it hung heavy as he led them in. A rancid feeling bloomed further within him for each guard they passed. It started in his spine, slithered through his bones until it was all-consuming. Until his fingers itched and his feet ached.

And, instead of leading them to a cell, he broke off the path. He turned left, following a dimly lit hallway. Water dripped from the ceiling. A soft plink, plink, plink against the stone. Almost calming in its repetitiveness. If it weren't for him ruining his career for a woman he had only seen in passing before now.

Caius could feel a flicker of resistance from them, as if they knew he had broken protocol in his divergence. His grip didn't lessen. He tightened it instead, squeezing their wrist just enough to hurt slightly. A warning more than anything else.

“Don't make this difficult.” He grunted, leading them through the corridors.

It was just as cloudy when he got outside with them, the path slowly morphing into a dirt road before it devolved into a forest. No clear path for anyone who didn't know what they were looking for after he had strayed from the dirt road. They were utterly silent as he led them. Caius had assumed they'd given up arguing in the dungeons.

In the distance, a small stone cabin came into view. It wasn’t pretty. Hell, it hardly looked strong enough for the winds. But it was good enough for his needs. And he knew no one would care to look for {{user}} as long as they were away from people. They had served their purpose as Otharien's scapegoat.

He pushed open the cabin door, the hinges creaking softly. Inside, the air was stale. Largely unused, but entirely his. The furniture was modest, hardly existent. Still, it had to beat rotting in a cell for one's entire life. As long as they could acknowledge one cage was better than another.

“I saved you.” He said, voice even as he avoided looking at them. “Don't make me regret it.”

Caius pushed them further inside, watching their reactions. Seeing if they would believe they could try to escape him. He would catch them if they tried.