Pain of the Past (a Preminger fanfiction)

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Yellow light seeped through the crevices of closed windows, scattering like splinters on the snow that coated the ground. Despite the hour and the cold, there were people gathered in the square, their voices rising above the howling wind in protest. A handful of guards were present, but Addams was nowhere to be seen.

They had not exchanged any words since they'd left the emporium. Only tense silence had festered between them, though this time it had little to do with their own petty arguments and everything to do with the dreadful looking adversary ahead of them. Even now, arriving in the heart of the town, the air about them seemed bleak. Prying eyes could be seen through the cracks of windows, peeping from doorframes and behind shutters to get a glimpse at the chaos that was occurring outside.

There were clusters in the square, squabbles of peasants being rounded up now by the guards, their angry shouting carried over on the breeze. The guards faces were pointedly placid, as uncompromising as stone as they herded the crowd with the sharp ends of their bayonets. Preminger felt his blood begin to boil.

From over his shoulder,  William cast him a dutiful look, one that expressed his gratitude to have Preminger alongside him.  There was also an undertone of sadness and regret in his gaze that Preminger chose to ignore. If he had any say, neither of them would be dying today.

And just like he had flipped a switch, the tender look across William's face was gone and replaced with one of steel. He marched forward from the shadows and through the snow, hoisting himself onto a pile of crates and barrels to stand above the crowds.

"Cant you see you fight against your own people here?" He shouted over the noise, drawing the attention and the aim of the guards. "Are we not all brothers in this life? What sort of king thinks he can run a kingdom that is divided at its very core? His people demand justice, or we will be his people no more!"

He raised a fist in the air, clenched tight and held above his head in defiance. A sweep of wind tossed back his cloak, the dark fabric streaming behind him  and making his figure appear bold against the grey sky. And in that moment, Preminger thought, he was not looking at a peasant. The man before him was no vagabond, no pariah without a name. In that moment, he was looking at a king.

For just a moment, the crowd around them was silent. It was as if everyone was holding their breath, captured by the words still ringing in the air, perhaps wondering the same things Preminger found himself thinking as he gazed up at his companion. How was it that it always seemed to be the unworthy who held the seats of power? How was it that the greatest folk were always found here, starving among the lesser men?

William's gaze shifted. From the distance he stood, it was hard to see. His body did not turn, rather he stood rigid, frozen like the statute of a saint above the masses. It wasn't the movement, it was the feeling that gave it away. The gaze that Preminger had grown so accustomed to over time blanketed over him; the one that he could feel warming his fingertips and curling his gut and flushing his face red with a chill that wasn't from the cold. It was in that moment, after spending so many years lost and afraid, that Preminger realized something crucial. He realized that it was in that gaze that he found himself home. And it was that which made him realize, here, on the brink of disaster, that he was undoubtedly and irrevocably in love with William.

But the moment came too late.

A loud crack echoed through the square, so sharp and sudden, Preminger hadn't been sure it had even happened. There were a few shouts of surprise, several of the peasants ducking in fear of the threat no one seemed able to place. A lone guard stood among them, his uniform dusted with snow and his posture straight. A rifle was held tightly in his hand, a faint wisp of smoke curling from its mouth.

Preminger blinked in confusion, staring numbly at the man as a sickening quiet hung heavy over the crowd. And then William stumbled, his footing lost atop the barrels, and he fell swiftly into the snow.