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sheenianniTitle: Out of the Dungeons (Part II)
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
sheenianni
Fandom: White Collar
Notes: See Prologue
PART II
Peter turned around from his right side, trying to find a more comfortable spot, yet knowing there was none. The stone floor was cold and unyielding, and the one torn blanket was not nearly enough to keep him warm. At least the years he had spent in the army had hardened him enough to withstand similar conditions. Trying to ignore the stench, his thirst and the pain of his wounds, Peter thought back to his predicament and how he had come to be in this cell, waiting for either a miracle or death.
A month ago, he had been a respected lord and a secret servant of her Majesty. Now they called him a murderer and a traitor, and his execution was scheduled three weeks from now; that was, unless the King heard Peter’s family’s plea and signed his pardon. Even then, the best version of his future involved spending the rest of his life as a prisoner in his country house, forgotten and isolated with only a small handful of servants.
If it was only up to Queen Elizabeth, Peter doubted he would have even been tried, much less convicted. But years ago, politics had demanded that Elizabeth take a step back and let her husband become the official ruler of the country. Behind the peaceful outlook of their kingdom, there was a vicious power-struggle raging between the House Mitchell and House Ruiz. The King had the support of the Church, but people never quite forgot that he was an outlander, no matter how powerful his own country was. Queen Elizabeth, on the other hand, had been born here. That alone wouldn’t have given her much real power, but Elizabeth was smart, beautiful and generally well-liked; more than that, she was a brilliant political player, which meant that she had a significant part of the nobility backing her up. The King could not pass many decisions that the Queen would staunchly oppose unless he wanted to risk an open conflict in the royal court. Yet Charles Ruiz was the official King and Elizabeth was just his consort – and the King took every opportunity to weaken his wife’s influence, just as the Queen fought to weaken him.
And now, through his own foolishness, Peter had become the latest piece on their elaborate chessboard.
He had uncovered the plot by Lord Pratt against Elizabeth and, instead of alerting the appropriate people, Peter had confronted Pratt. Feeling righteous and overconfident, he had not expected Pratt to pull his sword on him and begin a swordfight. In the end, Peter had killed the man in self-defense, but the damage had already been done.
Pratt’s faction had acted immediately, twisting the events in such a way that had led to Peter’s arrest.
The worst thing was that the Queen was still in danger. Peter would have been willing to die if it meant protecting his country (and Queen Elizabeth), but knowing that the other conspirators were still there plotting… that made it unbearable.
At least he had talked to Reese Hughes two weeks ago. Peter trusted his long-time friend to uncover the rest of the plot against the Queen – after all, Reese had been the one who had recruited Peter into their secret group, years back, when the old King was still alive and before Elizabeth ascended to the throne. Reese would do his best to ensure that nothing happened to Elizabeth.
Peter had also asked Reese how Neal was doing. His friend had told him not to worry about that, which probably meant that Neal had disappeared shortly after the whole disaster with Pratt’s death went down. That was just as well – over the years, Peter had come to genuinely care about the other man, and the last thing he wanted was to see Neal go down with him now that things were looking so bleak.
His affairs were in order, so if it came to the worst, that wasn’t an issue, either. All in all, Peter had plenty to be grateful for. His conscience was clear – he could die in peace. He had fulfilled his duty, protected the Queen and then passed on the task to a trusted friend. He had given his best, as always, and now it was up to someone else.
His life was ruined, he could do nothing to help Elizabeth anymore, and they were going to kill him for doing the right thing–
With an enraged scream, Peter moved forward and tried to reach the door. He wanted to bang his fists against the heavy wood, but then his chains pulled him back and he collapsed onto the floor with a burning pain in his shoulders. Breathing hard, he felt the physical pain slowly die down – but the dull ache in his heart remained.
He had spent most of his life guarding his kingdom, and now he was facing the executioner’s sword for a crime of which he was innocent. He hadn’t married, but he had hoped to leave a good family name behind – to his nephew, if he never had children of his own. And now –
He had to keep faith, Peter reminded himself. His name, his friends, and years of loyal, honorable service to the Crown had to mean something. His pardon would come, or at least a postponement of his execution, and soon afterwards, Reese and his people would uncover Calloway’s dirty machinations and clear him of the murder. He just had to be patient and hold on.
In a place that threatened his sanity, Peter clung to his beliefs and convictions. Drawing a shaky breath, he lay down back on the cold ground and tried to get some sleep.
* * *
Peter had first met the Crown Princess when he came to the court at age fourteen. Princess Elizabeth was three years old and a cute little handful – at least that was what Peter’s mother said. Peter had been far more interested in the castle surrounding him – the soldiers, the flags, the artists and dancers and the huge glass chandelier that hung in the ballroom. The Princess was just a kid, but the swords and the music and the lights…!
After that, Peter had encountered the Princess on a few more occasions, usually just in passing. It was twelve years later, when Peter received an award from King Alan for his brave and loyal service in the army, that he first saw Elizabeth as a young woman rather than a child. At fifteen years old, Elizabeth was already beautiful: her dark hair fell over her shoulders in waves; the way she moved reflected a grace that was unusual even for someone of her birth; the gorgeous blue dress that she wore for the ceremony couldn’t match the color of her eyes. Peter was enchanted by the sound of Elizabeth’s laugher; he was taken aback by her smart, witty responses when he engaged her in a conversation; he was moved by her generosity and her kindness.
Peter Burke was twenty-six and he fell in love.
When the old King died two years later, Elizabeth became Queen. Following in her father’s footsteps, she often turned for advice to Lord Hughes, head of one of the oldest noble families in the kingdom. Reese had brought Peter into their secret circle of the Crown’s faithful just a few months before the King’s death, and Peter’s loyalty to the new Queen was even stronger than that for her father.
They moved in the shadows: noblemen and commoners, thieves, pirates and spies – a thin yet widespread net of those whose only purpose was to protect their country. The Queen only knew a handful of their names; Peter himself knew many contacts, but even more remained hidden from him. It was safer that way.
Several months after the beginning of Elizabeth’s reign, a group led by Count Adler had attempted to cause a conflict and cast doubt at Elizabeth’s right to the throne. Their plot had been foiled and two of the group were killed in a fight, but most of them escaped – all but one.
Peter hadn’t yet known that the intercepted thief would one day become an ally and a friend.
* * *
He hadn’t been there when they captured or interrogated Nicolau d’Haldren, and he had been dissatisfied in how little information they had gotten from the man. Despite Reese’s belief that there was nothing else to be learned from their captive, Peter wasn’t convinced that D’Haldren hadn’t held back on them, especially after he had heard about his resistance towards their torture. When the prisoner escaped their most secure fortress, Peter gladly accepted the task of hunting him down and bringing him back.
Except at the end of the chase, Nicolau d’Haldren turned out to be nothing like Peter had imagined.
Struck by pity and compassion, Peter had stopped the terrified young man from committing suicide. Yet even then, he was halfway convinced that d’Haldren was just playing him, and that he was an enemy spy with dangerous tricks up his sleeve.
Just as Peter expected, Nicolau had attempted to escape the second night after being recaptured. A brilliant improvisation that was thwarted by amateurish mistakes; certainly a good effort, yet nothing that suggested the extensive training that Peter had expected.
He noted that Nicolau had taken no weapon with him, even though he could have tried to steal one. When Peter caught him less than fifty yards from their campsite, the other man surrendered without a fight but still raised his hands in a desperate plea.
“I can’t go back to that place. Lord Burke… Peter…”
“Come on, d’Haldren. You don’t want me to force you–”
“You should have let me die. I swear to God – I’m no conspirator; I don’t have any secret information. Please, listen to me–”
“Last chance before I help you with my sword–”
“I’ll tell you everything I know if you don’t take me back there. Promise to kill me once we reach the fortress.”
That stopped Peter in his tracks. “What do you know?”
“Give me your promise first.”
“All right, I promise…”
Peter had then listened to Nicolau’s – Neal’s – story. He had no reason to believe him, yet something about the man’s words rang true with him; his plea had tugged at his heart. Slowly, Peter had come up with a plan…
* * *
Back in his cell, Peter frowned a bit at the memories. Taking an insane risk that had bordered on treason, he had given Neal a bottle of poison, partially to see if Neal was honest in his request. He watched Neal in his terrified indecision, saw him trembling like a leaf as he opened the bottle but couldn’t bring it to his lips, and then recognized his ultimate acceptance when he took a deep breath and swallowed the poison in one big gulp before closing his eyes.
“Thank you.”
If he was a spy, he should have recognized the substance. So either “Nicolau” was an even better actor than Peter had thought, or he might have been telling the truth – and he truly believed he was about to die.
What Peter really did was help him fake his death.
The next night after his men buried Neal, Peter had returned to dig out his body, then took him to a whorehouse that belonged to one of his contacts. He had entrusted Lauren to look after Neal and to take care of him while Peter reported his death and disbanded the group of soldiers that had accompanied him on his quest.
When he came back three days later, Neal was already strong enough to sit up on his bed. Yet even then, despite all his actions, Peter still hadn’t truly believed Neal’s story, not until he saw him carve a small dragon statue out of a piece of firewood with just a few simple tools that Lauren had left in his room. After that, Peter made Neal an offer – to get a new name, a new life and to serve the Queen as one of her people. And Neal had accepted.
Hughes had been furious for months. As Peter recalled, the Queen’s advisor had wanted to have Neal killed or thrown back into the dungeons – with Peter possibly right next to him. Funny how that had turned out, thought Peter with a grimace.
Given the talent that “Nicolau” had shown at infiltrating their court, Peter had decided to create him an alias of a country gentleman from the neighboring land. After that, he taught Neal everything he needed to know – from etiquette to geography and the subtle art of moving in the shadows. He also taught him to read and write in his kingdom’s language, which was apparently vastly different from the alphabet that Neal had learned growing up. It was almost scary how quickly Neal took to writing and drawing – Peter soon realized that he had inadvertently stumbled upon a great forger, and a master thief.
And all of that under Peter’s tutelage.
It was frustrating how easily Neal slipped into the role that Peter had crafted for him – and then went beyond that. Even though he had watched him like a hawk, somehow, Neal managed to establish his own net of contacts right below Peter’s nose. Of course, Neal’s skills were also what ultimately convinced Lord Hughes to accept him into their circle. It was always convenient to have someone who could charm the right people or scale the walls and steal important documents – and someone who was expendable and easy to sacrifice.
For six years they had served the Queen, their secrecy especially important once Elizabeth married Prince Ruiz to prevent a civil war. And then everything around them crumbled after Peter discovered the plot led by Lord Pratt and the House of Calloway. It still remained to be seen whether the King had been in any way involved in their schemes or whether the conspirators had acted on their own.
Of course, locked in the dungeons and sentenced to death, Peter was unlikely to ever find the answers to these questions.
Once again, Peter sincerely hoped that Neal was safe. However their relationship had started, he had long ago stopped viewing the other man as just a tool – if he ever really had. Neal was charming, brave and clever; they had come to trust each other and rely on each other more than would Peter have thought possible.
But there was nothing he could do now.
Shifting on the ground once again, Peter went back to contemplating the possibility of a pardon before exhaustion finally overcame him and he fell asleep.
Part III
Author:
sheenianniFandom: White Collar
Notes: See Prologue
___________________________________
PART II
Peter turned around from his right side, trying to find a more comfortable spot, yet knowing there was none. The stone floor was cold and unyielding, and the one torn blanket was not nearly enough to keep him warm. At least the years he had spent in the army had hardened him enough to withstand similar conditions. Trying to ignore the stench, his thirst and the pain of his wounds, Peter thought back to his predicament and how he had come to be in this cell, waiting for either a miracle or death.
A month ago, he had been a respected lord and a secret servant of her Majesty. Now they called him a murderer and a traitor, and his execution was scheduled three weeks from now; that was, unless the King heard Peter’s family’s plea and signed his pardon. Even then, the best version of his future involved spending the rest of his life as a prisoner in his country house, forgotten and isolated with only a small handful of servants.
If it was only up to Queen Elizabeth, Peter doubted he would have even been tried, much less convicted. But years ago, politics had demanded that Elizabeth take a step back and let her husband become the official ruler of the country. Behind the peaceful outlook of their kingdom, there was a vicious power-struggle raging between the House Mitchell and House Ruiz. The King had the support of the Church, but people never quite forgot that he was an outlander, no matter how powerful his own country was. Queen Elizabeth, on the other hand, had been born here. That alone wouldn’t have given her much real power, but Elizabeth was smart, beautiful and generally well-liked; more than that, she was a brilliant political player, which meant that she had a significant part of the nobility backing her up. The King could not pass many decisions that the Queen would staunchly oppose unless he wanted to risk an open conflict in the royal court. Yet Charles Ruiz was the official King and Elizabeth was just his consort – and the King took every opportunity to weaken his wife’s influence, just as the Queen fought to weaken him.
And now, through his own foolishness, Peter had become the latest piece on their elaborate chessboard.
He had uncovered the plot by Lord Pratt against Elizabeth and, instead of alerting the appropriate people, Peter had confronted Pratt. Feeling righteous and overconfident, he had not expected Pratt to pull his sword on him and begin a swordfight. In the end, Peter had killed the man in self-defense, but the damage had already been done.
Pratt’s faction had acted immediately, twisting the events in such a way that had led to Peter’s arrest.
The worst thing was that the Queen was still in danger. Peter would have been willing to die if it meant protecting his country (and Queen Elizabeth), but knowing that the other conspirators were still there plotting… that made it unbearable.
At least he had talked to Reese Hughes two weeks ago. Peter trusted his long-time friend to uncover the rest of the plot against the Queen – after all, Reese had been the one who had recruited Peter into their secret group, years back, when the old King was still alive and before Elizabeth ascended to the throne. Reese would do his best to ensure that nothing happened to Elizabeth.
Peter had also asked Reese how Neal was doing. His friend had told him not to worry about that, which probably meant that Neal had disappeared shortly after the whole disaster with Pratt’s death went down. That was just as well – over the years, Peter had come to genuinely care about the other man, and the last thing he wanted was to see Neal go down with him now that things were looking so bleak.
His affairs were in order, so if it came to the worst, that wasn’t an issue, either. All in all, Peter had plenty to be grateful for. His conscience was clear – he could die in peace. He had fulfilled his duty, protected the Queen and then passed on the task to a trusted friend. He had given his best, as always, and now it was up to someone else.
His life was ruined, he could do nothing to help Elizabeth anymore, and they were going to kill him for doing the right thing–
With an enraged scream, Peter moved forward and tried to reach the door. He wanted to bang his fists against the heavy wood, but then his chains pulled him back and he collapsed onto the floor with a burning pain in his shoulders. Breathing hard, he felt the physical pain slowly die down – but the dull ache in his heart remained.
He had spent most of his life guarding his kingdom, and now he was facing the executioner’s sword for a crime of which he was innocent. He hadn’t married, but he had hoped to leave a good family name behind – to his nephew, if he never had children of his own. And now –
He had to keep faith, Peter reminded himself. His name, his friends, and years of loyal, honorable service to the Crown had to mean something. His pardon would come, or at least a postponement of his execution, and soon afterwards, Reese and his people would uncover Calloway’s dirty machinations and clear him of the murder. He just had to be patient and hold on.
In a place that threatened his sanity, Peter clung to his beliefs and convictions. Drawing a shaky breath, he lay down back on the cold ground and tried to get some sleep.
Peter had first met the Crown Princess when he came to the court at age fourteen. Princess Elizabeth was three years old and a cute little handful – at least that was what Peter’s mother said. Peter had been far more interested in the castle surrounding him – the soldiers, the flags, the artists and dancers and the huge glass chandelier that hung in the ballroom. The Princess was just a kid, but the swords and the music and the lights…!
After that, Peter had encountered the Princess on a few more occasions, usually just in passing. It was twelve years later, when Peter received an award from King Alan for his brave and loyal service in the army, that he first saw Elizabeth as a young woman rather than a child. At fifteen years old, Elizabeth was already beautiful: her dark hair fell over her shoulders in waves; the way she moved reflected a grace that was unusual even for someone of her birth; the gorgeous blue dress that she wore for the ceremony couldn’t match the color of her eyes. Peter was enchanted by the sound of Elizabeth’s laugher; he was taken aback by her smart, witty responses when he engaged her in a conversation; he was moved by her generosity and her kindness.
Peter Burke was twenty-six and he fell in love.
When the old King died two years later, Elizabeth became Queen. Following in her father’s footsteps, she often turned for advice to Lord Hughes, head of one of the oldest noble families in the kingdom. Reese had brought Peter into their secret circle of the Crown’s faithful just a few months before the King’s death, and Peter’s loyalty to the new Queen was even stronger than that for her father.
They moved in the shadows: noblemen and commoners, thieves, pirates and spies – a thin yet widespread net of those whose only purpose was to protect their country. The Queen only knew a handful of their names; Peter himself knew many contacts, but even more remained hidden from him. It was safer that way.
Several months after the beginning of Elizabeth’s reign, a group led by Count Adler had attempted to cause a conflict and cast doubt at Elizabeth’s right to the throne. Their plot had been foiled and two of the group were killed in a fight, but most of them escaped – all but one.
Peter hadn’t yet known that the intercepted thief would one day become an ally and a friend.
He hadn’t been there when they captured or interrogated Nicolau d’Haldren, and he had been dissatisfied in how little information they had gotten from the man. Despite Reese’s belief that there was nothing else to be learned from their captive, Peter wasn’t convinced that D’Haldren hadn’t held back on them, especially after he had heard about his resistance towards their torture. When the prisoner escaped their most secure fortress, Peter gladly accepted the task of hunting him down and bringing him back.
Except at the end of the chase, Nicolau d’Haldren turned out to be nothing like Peter had imagined.
Struck by pity and compassion, Peter had stopped the terrified young man from committing suicide. Yet even then, he was halfway convinced that d’Haldren was just playing him, and that he was an enemy spy with dangerous tricks up his sleeve.
Just as Peter expected, Nicolau had attempted to escape the second night after being recaptured. A brilliant improvisation that was thwarted by amateurish mistakes; certainly a good effort, yet nothing that suggested the extensive training that Peter had expected.
He noted that Nicolau had taken no weapon with him, even though he could have tried to steal one. When Peter caught him less than fifty yards from their campsite, the other man surrendered without a fight but still raised his hands in a desperate plea.
“I can’t go back to that place. Lord Burke… Peter…”
“Come on, d’Haldren. You don’t want me to force you–”
“You should have let me die. I swear to God – I’m no conspirator; I don’t have any secret information. Please, listen to me–”
“Last chance before I help you with my sword–”
“I’ll tell you everything I know if you don’t take me back there. Promise to kill me once we reach the fortress.”
That stopped Peter in his tracks. “What do you know?”
“Give me your promise first.”
“All right, I promise…”
Peter had then listened to Nicolau’s – Neal’s – story. He had no reason to believe him, yet something about the man’s words rang true with him; his plea had tugged at his heart. Slowly, Peter had come up with a plan…
Back in his cell, Peter frowned a bit at the memories. Taking an insane risk that had bordered on treason, he had given Neal a bottle of poison, partially to see if Neal was honest in his request. He watched Neal in his terrified indecision, saw him trembling like a leaf as he opened the bottle but couldn’t bring it to his lips, and then recognized his ultimate acceptance when he took a deep breath and swallowed the poison in one big gulp before closing his eyes.
“Thank you.”
If he was a spy, he should have recognized the substance. So either “Nicolau” was an even better actor than Peter had thought, or he might have been telling the truth – and he truly believed he was about to die.
What Peter really did was help him fake his death.
The next night after his men buried Neal, Peter had returned to dig out his body, then took him to a whorehouse that belonged to one of his contacts. He had entrusted Lauren to look after Neal and to take care of him while Peter reported his death and disbanded the group of soldiers that had accompanied him on his quest.
When he came back three days later, Neal was already strong enough to sit up on his bed. Yet even then, despite all his actions, Peter still hadn’t truly believed Neal’s story, not until he saw him carve a small dragon statue out of a piece of firewood with just a few simple tools that Lauren had left in his room. After that, Peter made Neal an offer – to get a new name, a new life and to serve the Queen as one of her people. And Neal had accepted.
Hughes had been furious for months. As Peter recalled, the Queen’s advisor had wanted to have Neal killed or thrown back into the dungeons – with Peter possibly right next to him. Funny how that had turned out, thought Peter with a grimace.
Given the talent that “Nicolau” had shown at infiltrating their court, Peter had decided to create him an alias of a country gentleman from the neighboring land. After that, he taught Neal everything he needed to know – from etiquette to geography and the subtle art of moving in the shadows. He also taught him to read and write in his kingdom’s language, which was apparently vastly different from the alphabet that Neal had learned growing up. It was almost scary how quickly Neal took to writing and drawing – Peter soon realized that he had inadvertently stumbled upon a great forger, and a master thief.
And all of that under Peter’s tutelage.
It was frustrating how easily Neal slipped into the role that Peter had crafted for him – and then went beyond that. Even though he had watched him like a hawk, somehow, Neal managed to establish his own net of contacts right below Peter’s nose. Of course, Neal’s skills were also what ultimately convinced Lord Hughes to accept him into their circle. It was always convenient to have someone who could charm the right people or scale the walls and steal important documents – and someone who was expendable and easy to sacrifice.
For six years they had served the Queen, their secrecy especially important once Elizabeth married Prince Ruiz to prevent a civil war. And then everything around them crumbled after Peter discovered the plot led by Lord Pratt and the House of Calloway. It still remained to be seen whether the King had been in any way involved in their schemes or whether the conspirators had acted on their own.
Of course, locked in the dungeons and sentenced to death, Peter was unlikely to ever find the answers to these questions.
Once again, Peter sincerely hoped that Neal was safe. However their relationship had started, he had long ago stopped viewing the other man as just a tool – if he ever really had. Neal was charming, brave and clever; they had come to trust each other and rely on each other more than would Peter have thought possible.
But there was nothing he could do now.
Shifting on the ground once again, Peter went back to contemplating the possibility of a pardon before exhaustion finally overcame him and he fell asleep.
Part III
