Assassins Bane (wof medieval human AU)

Wolf

Darkness shrouded the castle of the New Age like a storm cloud.

Past the joyous men feasting and drinking, beneath the floors upon which danced beautiful women in flowing silks, delighting their male audiences. 

Beneath the kitchens where delightful food was drugged and the rooms where the inhabitants breathed in a pink, pearly poison smoke through long pipes. Beneath the dungeons where half were dead and the other half wished they were.

Beneath it all was one single room.

It wasn't what any one might call a nice room, nor would they call it a bad room. It was a room, with a door which locked from the outside. It had walls, made of stone and clay. It had a floor, made of the same materials, and of course it had a bed.

The mattress might have been stone, for all the comfort it gave, even though it was stuffed with the softest down. The silk sheets might have been rough linen for all the purpose they held. The pillow might have been stone if it wasn't stuffed full of swan feathers. The blanket might have been made of cobwebs for all the warmth it gave, though in truth, it was heavy and soft. The man who lay upon this bed might have been dead, if it wasn't for his chest which rose and fell in fretful breaths.

"It wasn't me, It WASN'T ME!" The little boy cried. His sandy hair reflected the sharp sunlight and his black eyes glimmered wetly with tears threatening to spill.

A woman with equally sandy hair and sharp eyes stood in front of him, arms crossed over her chest as she watched her child blubbering.

"Don't lie!" She snapped, then turned turned towards the other person with them.

He was a man. A scary man, the little boy thought, with his hair shaven so close to his scull it might not be there at all, and his face drawn into a firm, cold line.

"You see Father? Not only does he disobey, but he lies! You see?" 

The man's eyes wondered over the boy, taking in every detail.

"Lying is a sin my child." He said. "You must not sin."

"I'm NOT lying!" The boy yelled. "It WASN'T me! The squirrels, the bird, the fire, it was all HIM not ME!"

"You see this?" his mother's voice was shrill as she pointed a finger at the boy. "You see-"

The man held up a hand to silence her, then came towards the boy. 

"What about the squirrels boy? What happened to them? Tell me."

"They're deaddead!" The boy sobbed. "They were in my hands and then they were deaddead!  It wasn't me! HE did it! I didn't make them deaddead!"

"So you say," the man said, his eyes gleaming. "And the birds? What happened to them?"

The boy sniffed. "He did it! He's the one who twisted their necks! It wasn't me!"

"Why you-" the woman started, but the man silenced her again. 

"Let him speak. Who did it my child?"

"HIM!"

"Ah. And why did he do it?"

"He said it wasn't fair, that they could fly away and be free while he was stuck, so he did it. It wasn't me!"

"And the fire? Did he do that too?"

The boy began to cry harder, sobs wracking his tiny body. "Mama said we couldn't have any more cake, and he was angry. I didn't do it, it was HIM!"