Trials, Traits and Truth

The Trial

TW: Humiliation 

Roman gritted his teeth and clenched his fists. His back was a hing and his face was red - bittersweet that the only colour he was able to produce was the acute hue of mortification.

His wrists and ankles were shackled and anchored to the floor. He stood before his entire royal court. Roman's trial was taking place in his own throne room.

Among the throngs of the crowd he saw the faces of friends, family, faces of people who were both fictional and not. Every figment of Thomas' imagination was there to watch, to jeer, and to judge. He'd never seen them this mad or unruly before. Something had warped them. Roman had a strong feeling he knew who.

"Roman Sanders!" A troll stood in front of Roman's ornate throne behind the shackled Prince, reading from a scroll.

"Prince Roman..." Roman corrected sharply. The guard that usually stood by his side in solidarity now hit him hard on his back and sent him sprawling to the ground. His wrists yanked painfully against the short chain. Will all his effort, Roman pushed himself up and stood again. The crowd started to boo. Roman's face of dignity flickered.

"Roman Sanders, you stand before this royal court accused of murder, treason, incompetence, and general tyranny. How do you plead?"

There were yells and screams of "GUILTY" from the crowd. Roman lifted his chin.

"Not Guilty."

A tomato hit him square in the chest, splattering his garments, face, and hair. Roman tried to retain his dignified stance - resolutely staring above the crowd.

"...you are now also accused of lying to the Royal Court. Now the crowd will decide: you can either pronounce him guilty now, or have a trial by lake just to be sure."

Roman sucked in his breath. He had only ordered a handful of trials before, and he'd never employed the trial by lake method.

It was...a bit too brutal for Roman's tastes. Think witch trials.

And if he failed that...

If the lake found him guilty...

Would he respawn?

Roman bit his lip, starting to zone out. One thing he knew: he wouldn't change his plea. Pride may be all he had left.

As the crowd screamed and writhed...the Palace doors flew open. The crowd parted like the red sea and Pitch strode in. His head was adorned with a crown studded with black opals. Behind him came -

"LOGAN!" Roman cried, straining against his bounds.

Logan looked up, unsympathetic and critical. Behind him came two trolls who were each dragging a squirming body.

Roman sank to his knees, feeling a raw sense of hopelessness overwhelm him.

Pitch passed Roman without even a glance, and took his place on the throne. The announcer troll bowed low and moved to join the crowd.

Virgil and Patton were thrown forward before Roman. They froze, feeling spears pressed against their backs.

"Ladies, Lords, one and all - " Pitch began. Roman clicked his tongue at the obvious exclusion of non-binary folk. "I am sorry to say, but you won't be able to drown any rats today, or any time soon for that matter."

As the crowd groaned in disappointment, Virgil lifted his head slightly and locked eyes with the Prince.

The kid looked...completely doped up. Virgil was thin, his eyes had sunk into his face a little and he looked gaunt.

"Never fear! These three abominations will get exactly what they deserve."

"I'm sorry Verge." Roman mumbled, feeling a sense of guilt engulf him. He felt his hair being pulled back and Roman gave a sharp yelp.

Suddenly, he was looking up at Pitch, who was forcing his head back.

"Hi sorry," He whispered. "I'm Pitch."

Virgil frowned slightly in his daze.

Roman spat up at his tormentor. Pitch paused for a moment, wiping it away with his sleeve, then dragged Roman up onto his feet by his hair.

"Never mind folks, we will give you a show after all!" Pitch was grinning maniacally now. Logan frowned.

"This is not a productive use of time or energy."

Roman roared and spluttered. "LOGAN?! What the HELL - "

"Not Logan." Pitch sneered. "Logic."

Roman looked down at Virgil and Patton desperately at his feet. Patton was in a ball, sniveling. Virgil was motionless.

"Logic, this will help me...break them down a little before bonding."

Roman froze.

"Now, let's see. Where was I?"

Roman started to really panic. Pure fear swept through him.

What had happened to Logan?

What would happen to Thomas?

How long had this been happening for? He couldn't even remember...

Pitch waved his hand and conjured a pair of scissors. The crowd was jubilant, and cheered sadistically.

"Wait - WAIT!" Roman yelled, while being forced yet again to his knees by Pitch's iron grip. The guard beside him stepped over and pressed his boot firmly on the chain that linked his hands to the floor - leaving him unable to move them. Hair started falling around him and Roman nearly threw up.

What was going on?

What was this feeling?

"Every now and then you just gotta shave off a little bit of ego." Pitch said conversationally. The crowd laughed, almost akin to a studio audience. Pitch's hand slipped oddly and sliced the back of Roman's neck.

Finally, after what felt like hours, Pitch threw him forward. Roman landed face first between Patton and Virgil.

"We can go now..." Roman dimly heard Logan say.

"Shut up." Pitch hissed. "We're just getting started."