Lanisen is sitting on his cot with his knees drawn up, the single blanket provided for him wrapped tightly around his shoulders. He seems to be dozing, in the sort of time-passing stupor that is neither true sleep nor true wakefulness. It’s very cold in the cell. He looks pale and sick, with the sort of hollowness in his face that comes with constant fear and uncertainty and waiting. He also looks very young.
Lune enters the cell with little fanfare. He appraises the youth before him. “Good evening,” he greets softly, neutrally.
Lanisen scrambles up as the door opens, still clutching the blanket, and backs to the far end of the cell. His eyes go immediately to the king’s crown, and stunned comprehension passes across his face. He bows low, keeping his eyes on the ground.
Lune studies the young man thoughtfully. “Hast no need of fear,” he says. “We mean only to speak with thee, and perhaps to learn something of thy history.”
Lanisen is not reassured. He looks everywhere except the king, it seems, over the floor and along the walls, down at his own feet, past Lune’s left shoulder to the little window in the door and the watchful guards that can be seen there. His eyes flit once, accidentally, to the king’s face and quickly avert, fixing on the ground between them. He is wretchedly, visibly terrified.
Lune frowns, observing the young man’s behavior. “Tell us of thyself,” he prompts.
Lanisen shifts slightly, moistening his lips. “What do you want to know, your majesty?” His voice is soft and rather shaky, an inoffensive tenor that might be nice to listen to if it were not so suffused with dread. There is a rote quality to the words that suggests he’s well used to questions now, and well past the point where he is able to keep anything hidden.
Lune says, “We shall start simply. What is thy name?”
Lanisen says, “Lanisen, your majesty.”
Lune nods. “And, Lanisen, how is it you see yourself as having come to this point?”
Lanisen is silent for a moment. His expression twists a bit, and he shrugs slightly, the motion more weary than insouciant. “Just… was stupid, I guess. ‘S all it is at the end of the day, your majesty.”
Lune sighs and shakes his head. “Stupidity, yes. But while a lack of better judgement may have influenced thy decisions, we do not believe that was the only motivation behind them. We will return after thou hast had some time to think on that.”
Lanisen is evidently startled enough by this abrupt leave-taking to glance back up at Lune. He merely nods in answer, mumbling a subdued, “Yes, your majesty,” before bowing his head again.
Lune nods, as if to say ‘that is that’, before leaving.