"Oh, yer' most definitely a runt, ain't ya?"

The soft footsteps sharply stopped as the words were processed, -ignore it- the Prince told himself breathing heavily, -just ignore all of it- he stood for a moment then continued walking.

"Yer' a little cute princeling, you know when you can't beat a fight—even when I'm the one stuck in the cage."

The voice said, clearly male having taken delight from the few words exchanged, he had been there for a few days, nothing to make him so vicious spitting injustice at the young boy.

The young prince (Even though he wasn't one) sharpy turned back against the best of his abilities spat out

"I don't get what makes you so happy to bring other people down. It shows more about yourself then anything in this whole world ever could—and yet you still let petty quips get the betterment of you."

The prince said though clenched teeth, trying not to curse like a sailor since his brother's return—trying to be respectable, still hissing the words out as he grabbed one of the bars of the cell the prisoner was locked in. It was small, not even a bed was in it, the walls and floor were cobblestone bricks—it seemed like a miserable place to spend time in.

The prisoner's eyes lingered something eerily predatory about the way he looked at the young teenager something close to excitement in the blood red eyes as they hungrily gaze at him. One arm layed limb to his side while the other hung in the air chained to the wall, there being just enough link to let the man sit on the ground with his arm being coiled perpetually above him.

His smiled widen with grim anticipation, and asked lightly, simple like it was for the weather or day of the week.

"You don't know the first thing of being anything more then a child, do ya?"

The prince let a snarl of disgust escape his lips but nothing more, the prisoner arched an eyebrow his smile plastered on his face, a quick look showed they were stained red.

"Yer' let the end of petty quips get the betterment of you, you and me aren't so far apart now are we?"

The prince's hand tightened to the cold iron bar, wishing he could bend it—prove that he was nothing like this dirty prisoner—criminal of this kingdom who ran his mouth—but better, in all ways better then him.

"We are nothing alike, and if I were like you I'd fucking. . ."

The prince paused the words drifting away proving they were lies, the prisoner's laughter was heard thought the whole dungeon, as the prince's words reverbed. Because no, if they were alike, he would do nothing at all, he could do nothing if it were true.

"You'd what? Turn yourself in? Beg for mercy? Change yourself and prove to em' you have?"

The prisoner stood up walking slowly to the bars, the prince just now realizing how tall he was, the iron bars of the cell starting to feel weak and disproportionate to the person currently restraining them. The clink of the chain reaching its limit rang out across the almost empty cellblock.

The prisoner held the same bar the prince was, his non-attached-to-the-wall-hand rattling the rod in place, it shook and made a click everytime it moved—but otherwise stayed perfectly in place and intact.

The prince grinned as the prisoner let his hand drop back to his side, the prince inadvertently taking a step back as the prisoner regarded the boy in front of him, scoffing as a bead of sweat dripped down.

-this is stupid, I'm going to get myself killed-

"I was right," He said softly. "A little runt of the pack and a helpless child, a two for one really, yer' what the women actually want."

"I'm not a child." He said, softly under his breath looking down like a child being scolded by a parent.

The prince looked at his hands, a skinny weak kid, he had always been that—too quick to temper insubordinate and out of control. He never truly changed. Even after all those years, nothing changed a lot in his life, other then being loud and cocky and funny for some reason he was raw and touchy today, weak and fragile.

"All right then, what are ya?" The prisoner drawled, becoming bored with the conversation.

"I'm just not a child, Lee!" He said a little louder then intended. The prince swallowed as he realized his mistake.

"Who's Lee?"

"I won't give you my name, why would I tell you this one?" The prince said, eyes rolling in an attempt to be persuasive and nonchalant.

"Lieutenant Leon Madison?"

Ok—so maybe he should start running.

"How did you—I mean—who are you even talking about?" The prince lied, horribly and the prisoner laughed in his face about it.

"So ye'r Thomas Madison, little brother of Leon runnin' round talking to some dirty criminal in a dark cell block? Must be my lucky day."

Thomas—or Tommy as he had taken himself to be known as, was struck speechless. The loud rowdy out of control insubordinate kid disappearing in a empty cell block. Alone from any guard, even more alone without his brother.

"I don't fucking get what you're playing at."

The prisoner shrugged, nonchalantly and non-committedly.

"At least give me your name if you know mine."

"You can call me captain."

"That's a stupid ass name."

"Captain Thatcher then."

"Almost as bad Thatch-ass."

A beat of silence rang out as the two merely stared at one another. One set in slight fear and annoyance. The other set in giddy anticipation.

Until—

"What's he like?" Tommy whispered softly, scared by what he might hear.

"Heh?" Thatcher replied finally showing true emotion: confusion.

Of course it was false, how could it not be? Why did he even think for a second that he would tell the truth even if he had it—even if he wanted or would he never—because Tommy doesn't know who Leon is anymore. Who his brother is anymore so why would he even try getting it from a dirty mouth criminal?

There was no reason behind the act. Just a scared child looking for comfort.

"You are a bastard." He said quietly, softly like a secret.

"That's me, the one and only." Thatcher grinned broadly, happily as if he wasn't locked in a cage and sizing up his prey. He looked normal, genuinely ok with the title he was given, wearing it like a badge of honor.

Tommy stepped back turned on his heels and walked away.

Thacher made no objection whatsoever letting him go, until—

"Tell yer' brother I said thank you."

Tommy froze.

"You did know Lee?"

" 'course I know lieutenant whatshisface." Thacher said with a dismissive wave of his hand, rolling his eyes.

"You -know- him?" Tommy asked, feeling something he hadn't felt in last two years six months twenty-nine days two hours and thirty-six minutes, thought he had not been keeping track recently.

"Yeah I do. He let me be locked up instead of bein' sent to the gallows, I would have preferred the latter honestly."

"How do you know my brother?" Tommy growled, this man—criminal, knows his brother—not his brother, the hardworking funny calm brother, but the man who took his place. He had his whole life in the palm of his grubby chained hands.

"You jerk." He whispered as Thatcher shrugged nonchalantly.

There was an odd juxtaposition between the two, a resemblance that shouldn't be as uncanny.

One was locked in a cell, an inmate and yet was in far more control in seemingly everything, saying all the right words to tick Tommy off and receive leverage. Tommy on the other hand—was how he always was: useless.

"He's tryin' his best."

He had the distant feeling of poking a bear, but unlike most metaphors that bear was very much awake watching as he slowly put his hand closer and closer to the beasts sight. Waiting to bite, and Tommy waiting for the first spill of blood.

"What would you know of family?"

"More than ya' runt."

"Fucker." He retorted lamely.

"These stone walls are thinner than they look." Thatcher waved a dismissive hand at the surrounding area. Scanning the walls as if they held secrets.

Tommy was just now realizing what he was getting into. But then again, he would never truly know the extent.

"What do you hear?" He said, for a moment blind trust was all he had.

He shrugged nonchalantly.

"Your brother's been through a lot lately, cut the kid some slack would ya?"

Kid? How old even was this prisoner? He didn't look much older than Leon, but then again, Leon looked much older in the spand of two years than Tommy originally thought.

"I know lots of things," Thatcher cooed tilting his head with a cat like grin.

"I know plenty."

Thatcher cooed again, jumping when Tommy ran to the bars and shook them, crystal like tears forming and shouted.

"Tell me who my brother is."

He let go of the bars and backed away as if he'd been burnt, catharsis was a heavy thing to finally like go of. A constant weight on his shoulders that he never realized was placed there, It becoming a constant companion in the last two years.

"Who is lieutendant Leon Madison?"

"The hard-working fella, shallow and strong determined and smart." Thatcher said eventually.

"A too trusting, lazy foolish idiot." He added, Tommy held his breath trying to not let a string of cursive fly out.

"Someone who should be more worried about their younger brother."

He looked up, the same predatory eyes lurking wary and content and excitement all at once. The look as if a gift had been placed by his feet, one he had been waiting a very very long time for.

Thacher smiled calmly even as Tommy wiped furiously at his eyes to stop the tears, sniffling loudly almost whining—for his pride Thatcher didn't laugh. Too loudly.

"I could tell ya' more"

Thatcher thought absent mindly, almost like an afterthought.

Tommy turned back and saw something more in the man's eyes then just boredom and loneliness someone reduced by their time in this cell. But something more, a desperate grab for some sense of control.

Tommy would be lying if his face didn't reflect it as well.

"Ok, tell me then Thatch-ass." Tommy said trying and failing to hide his giddy excitement.

"How about this," Thatcher started, Tommy listened.

"You bring me food, come back here tomorrow and I'll tell you everything."

"But, I. . ." Tommy wanted to argue wanted to disagree and say he's being unreasonable. Wanted to say no.

But coming down tomorrow, with food. It seemed quite reasonable.

He nods his head once set in with determination.

-Finally- Tommy thought relieved. -I finally get to know my brother- though at what cost? Tommy had no idea.

As Tommy scampered away, leaving this criminal alone. His heart beating in his chest praying that it wouldn't break his rib cage before he made it past the threshold.

He didn't once look back.

He didn't once look back as Thatcher began to smile. A wratchet grin upon his face, he was going to get out of here.

And he had just found his scapegoat.

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Art by Freogo on Twitter
All writing originally done on Novelist
Been a while. I guess, I'm not entirely sure how long lol Don't worry, An Angel's Respite will be right after this story, arc, thingy. . . I'm so close to finishing this and I've been working really hard on both projects hope I can finish soon! :D (Art was based on a completely different story so the characters look completely different lol)
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