The Sorcerer and the Witch-King's Heir

Another prison cell. At least this one wasn't silver, but it didn't matter. When Leo reached for power, horrible, searing pain raced along his nerves. He cried out and stopped trying. It hurt to breathe. He suspected that he had at least one fractured rib. One wrist was swollen and useless. His fingertips and nail beds were dark with purple bruises. It didn't matter. The crown had been destroyed. If he was destroyed as well, all the better. He curled up on the stone floor and retreated back into darkness. ** It was dark and it was cold. He had no idea how much time had passed. There was a dull roaring in his ears, and he could see nothing. Was he blind? Was it that dark in this dungeon? His cloak was gone, as well as his weapons. When he tried to sit up, pain and nausea rushed over him so violently that he immediately dropped his head back to the floor. He wrapped his arms around himself and shivered until oblivion claimed him again. ** Instinctively, he tried to conjure flame so he could see around him. There was nothing. In a moment of blind panic he remembered the last time he'd lost his magic and worried he'd lost his memories again too, but no, he remembered just fine. He'd lost the battle but won the war. The crown was gone. Probably he'd be executed soon by....somebody. If they hadn't just forgotten about him and left him in this hole to die of exposure. That was fine. It would all be fine, if he could just get back to sleep. ** There was light, and shouting. There was the creak of a door opening. "Hey. Hey! Get your hands off of me! What are you doing? I gave you everything you asked for! You can't just-- I want to talk to Adrian now. You can't just leave me here! I didn't everything you wanted!" The door clanged shut, a key turned in the lock, and the heavy footsteps retreated. "Pompous assholes," the voice muttered. "Should have known I couldn't trust them to keep a deal. So, what are you in for?" A long pause. "Leo?" The sound of rustling clothes as he came closer to the bars. "My god, Leo, is that you? What did they do to you?" Silence. "Are you alive? Saints, please be alive. Say something, please. I swear, if they killed you I'll...I'll..." "Leave me alone, Michael." His voice was raspy with disuse. He became aware of how acutely uncomfortable he was. The stone was hard and cold. His entire body ached. His hearing still wasn't right, and he couldn't see anything. He was faint, and dizzy, whether from his injuries or from not eating for however long he didn't know. He wished desperately that he had a blanket so he could at least die warm. "Leo," Michael's voice was filled with relief. "Thank the stars. I am so sorry. I didn't know you were here. Not that I could have done anything about it but...I'm sorry. I'm so sorry for everything." He didn't say anything. "But, you're here...can you break us out? There's no silver down here...I think." Moving hurt, it hurt so bad, but he lifted his head and glared in what he thought was Michael's direction before finally saying, in sheer disbelief, "no." "But why not? You can use your magic. It's just an old rusty dungeon. I've seen what you can do. You're a sorcerer! You can--" "I can't, because I burned myself out. Fighting you." "Oh." The silence went on so long, that he thought that was the end of it. He let his mind wander, hoping that he could slip back into unconsciousness again. He was starting to have the unwelcome feeling that he was actually feeling marginally better, and that he might not actually die from his injuries and instead have to wait for the grueling end by way of starvation. "I'm sorry," Michael said again, his voice near a whisper. "I betrayed you, and I hurt you, and if I could do it all again I would...I would make different choices, I swear." Leo didn't dignify that with a response. "I had to go back for the crown," Michael said. "When they discovered the illusion...they would have killed me if I didn't go back. I didn't have a choice." Another long pause. "Please, say something," Michael begged. "Say you understand or say that you hate me...anything. I meant every word I said to you. You're the best thing that ever happened to me. If we had met under different circumstances--" "Leave me alone, Michael." "Okay." There was a sniff, and then another one. Michael was crying. Leo realized two things. First, he was, in fact, feeling better, and he wasn't going to pass out again any time soon. Second, all the time and effort he had expended in the first dungeon trying to get over Michael had been completely wasted. He hated him but he wanted him but he had betrayed him but maybe there was, in fact, a good explanation. "Fine," he said grumpily. "Give me your explanation." The crying stopped. "Really?" "You betrayed me, lied to me, and abandoned me," Leo said. "You broke my heart, Michael, and frankly, I never want to see you again. But here we are." He paused. "Even if it's just another lie, probably I won't be alive long enough to find out." "Please don't say that," Michael said. "We're going to find a way out of this, and I'll find a way to make it up to you, I promise." Leo snorted in laughter. It hurt. "You're going to make it up to me? I can't use magic, Michael." There was a very long pause. "I can." "What?" "Just small things. Persuasion and illusion. That's why I needed your help with the finding spell. I can do, like, blessings for luck but nothing that's too specific or complicated. I was taught by...well, maybe I should start at the beginning." Leo forced himself to sit up. Vertigo hit him like an angry vulture. "Am I blind?" he asked. "Or is it really completely dark in here?" "It's completely dark," Michael said, worriedly. "Could you see when they dragged me in?" Leo grunted. "I had my eyes closed, so I don't know." He dragged himself across the cell in the direction of Michael's voice and settled with his back to the bars, pressing his pounding forehead into his knees. There was a rustle, and then a slight pressure behind him. Michael had moved to mirror his position. He could feel warmth, and felt guilty for how much better it made him feel. "Ok," he said. "Tell me a story."