Charlie didn't know where he was, what had happened or who he was with.
There were only two things that he did know.
He had to get out of here.
It would be a fight he did alone. Arthur was nowhere to be scented.
The darkness was still there, fighting him to let go. It knew he was scared, terrified. It was trying to convince him of the worst. Make the fear worse and make him lose everything which made him human.
Broken, bruised and bound. A bag over his head leaving him blind, and binds around his wrists rendering him helpless.
It took him everything that he had to make sure that it didn't happen.
Forcing himself to his feet, he received nothing but a blow to the back of the head for trying. Charlie cried out, a snarl echoing from his throat. Despite the bag over his face, he turned, trying to bite into anything he could find.
Again, another blow to the back of the head silenced his efforts. The only reward being a sever headache making concentrating even harder.
"Where am I?" No amount of effort could have made his voice sound less desperate then it did. No response, "Where's my brother. What happened?" His voice broke when the next question came to his lips.
"Did I hurt someone?"
The silence was killing him, almost as much as the terror bubbling in his chest was. He may not have known the people he left behind at the church, but that didn't mean they deserved anything he could have done to them. He needed to know, for fear that he would die of the guilt of what could have happened. "Please."
Finally the silence was broken from to the young man's left. However, it wasn't a kind voice, or even one he recognised. "They're dead." Nothing more.
Guilt tore at his every inch, and all he wanted to do was call up into a ball and die. It didn't appear that such was an option. So the young man stayed still as he cried in silence, thankful for the bag covering his face.
After a while, Charlie was very suddenly forced to his legs. Pulling a grunt of surprised from the young man when hands looped around his shoulders and being slammed onto his feet. Staggering for a moment, the strangers allowed him less then a minute to acclimate before they set off.
The group walked silently through the corridors, Charlie stumbling regularly as he struggled to keep up and guess which direction they headed in next. He almost walked directly into the person in front of him when they halted.
"Open the doors," the call went up. Resulting in a great groaning of what Charlie assumed were doors, and then walking again. Charlie heard voices initially, and then an eerie hush as they fell silent.
Charlie didn't need to see to guess that all eyes were on him.
When the group stopped, once again Charlie was forced to his knees. Charlie struggled for a short while, trying to free himself from his binds and put himself in a place where he could protect himself a bit better.
A third blow landed on his head, then the bag was dragged from his head.
Surrounding him were a circle of maybe thirty people. Staring at him as though he had antlers growing from his head, and hatred lighting their eyes.
Every weapon in the room was pointed at his head.
Paranoid. Charlie knew he was good, but this was overboard even for him.
The fact that these strangers knew he was dangerous made him feel more comfortable. Even if it was only a small amount.
At least they knew what to expect.
No one seemed to dare get within five metres of him, and every man watched him as though at any moment he would break free of his binds and kill them all. They weren't entirely wrong. He admitted, watching them from the corner of his eye.
"Charles."
The familiar voice made Charlie jump, he turned around. Going from calm to terrified and angry in the space of a moment. Had he been in wolf form, his tail would have gone between his legs at the sound of that voice alone.
Father.
The circle parted like the ocean, to reveal a man. He looked a lot older then Charlie could even begin to remember, but the look in his eyes were no different. The quiet calm which hid the dangerous nature of the man before him. As best as the older man tried to keep it under wraps, Charlie knew much better.
However, Charlie had eyes for someone else entirely. The blonde beside his father who had changed so much in a decade. His eldest brother.
Who at that moment in time was doing everything in his power to not look Charlie in the eye.
"Robert."
His choice to acknowledge his eldest brother first was pointed. An attempt to show his father that he couldn't have cared less about who he was or what he had done in the past.
That man is no King of mine. Charlie felt that he was trying to convince himself of that fact more than anyone else. It was lucky that he had always been a good actor. Even less of a father, he grunted. Only flicking his gaze at the man who had once been the most important man in his life.
Once.
That was a lifetime ago, and Charlie had changed a lot from the boy he had been back then.
His eldest brother dragged his eyes over Charlie, watching him with caution, but a different kind. Watching how he had changed in the decade. For a moment it didn't look as though he was going to respond. "Charlie."
Nodding to his brother, a thousand questions on his lips but he didn't let a single one past. Charlie too took a moment to observe his brother. Gone was the contagious smile and the relaxed stance, replaced with stature and caution.
Part of Charlie wondered what had happened to make him this way.
Another part wondered if any of it was because of him.
Only then did Charlie allow himself to look away, it took effort to drag his gaze away and to look at his father. He straightened himself as best as he could, despite the pain at his wrists and he drew his gaze over the elder man. Judging him, trying to catch any sign of weakness or age. No matter how hard he looked, he couldn't find any.
He tried not to be disappointed.
"Are you going to explain what possessed you to bring me here?" The growl echoed from Charlie before he could stop it. Every man and woman, save Robert and his father took a careful step back. Tightening their grips on their weapons.
Charlie smiled.
"You're not the one here to be asking questions," it wasn't the King who spoke first, rather a noble to his left. Somewhere in the back of Charlie's memories, he recognised the face but from where or what he wasn't sure.
Neither the face nor the tone wasn't a friendly one.
"I assume you are the ones who poisoned my drink, who brought me here? Why, what on earth could be so important that you'd risk the lives of every man here?" Charlie asked, his tone managing to calm somewhat.
Finally his father decided it was time to speak. His voice should have been familiar, yet it sent a shiver down his spine. The young man kept his eyes on the man.
Whilst the King watched his son like a starving vulture circling a helpless creature, Charlie was the mouse cornered by a cat, a lion.
Charlie tried to remind himself that he was anything but helpless, if anything he could have killed every man there without too much trouble. Yet for years he had been conditioned to fear this man.
Fear had quickly turned to hatred.
"Our reasons will soon become clear," his words were devastatingly simple, vague. "And we have put safeguards into place to ensure that you don't do any, irreparable damage. We have some of the most powerful men in the country here to help."
I've done worse. Charlie's lips bared very slightly to reveal the fangs below. Otherwise he didn't say anything. His arms crossing in front of him, it took a lot of self restraint for him to not do anything further, anything stupid.
For a moment he didn't speak, "What, dare I ask have you got which you think can stop me?" It sounded cocky, but he had every right to be.
He'd killed worse men then this, and unfortunately he'd killed better men as well.
"As I said, it will become clear. But not today, unlike you most of us have had a long day. We need to rest." The emotionless tone to the King was unnerving, it should have sounded as though it was dripping with sarcasm. Yet it was perfectly calm, perfectly steady, perfectly terrifying.
Charlie let out a low rumble, he may not have been as calm and steady as his father but was equally as terrifying when he wanted to be. Right now the young man was all but bristling with the anger pent up inside.
Shifting from one knee to the other, his bruises and healing broken leg was beginning to make it hard for him to concentrate. He doubted his father, or any other man for that matter cared about it.
"Where, dare I ask will I be staying? Or am I to sleep in the woods?" He tilted his head as he spoke.
"It would fit what you've become," still expressionless. "A beast in the forest, however, no." Charlie wasn't sure if he should feel thankful or worried for what was about to come. Knowing his father, it was the latter.
"Did you keep my room after all these years? I never pinned you as the sentimental type father."
He wasn't. Not that much could change in a decade, as much as he had begged when he was younger.
"The dungeons."
With a flick of his wrist, twelve men stepped forward. The bag was once again shoved onto his head and he was blinded again, dragged to his feet. He bit back the cry of pain when he moved, unwilling to show weakness in front of the people who were terrified of him.
It was an advantage he wasn't willing to give up just yet.
Then he was walking again, not by his own choice. He heard the doors slam shut behind him. After a while he was thrown through what he assumed was a cell door and landed hard on his knees.
A man tore the bag from his head, for which he was grateful. Terrified to be left alone in the darkness with nothing but his thoughts.
His hands still bound in silver, he heard the chains being tied to the wall and then he was gone. The only light available was a sliver of moonlight coming from a crack of a window. He pulled at the chain to find barely enough give to lie down or sit.
Now alone, without the peering eyes of people who hated him. Charlie sat down as best as he was able to. Charlie threw back his head and let out an agonised wail, one which he had been keeping inside for what felt like an eternity, but in reality had been little more then a handful of days.
But no one was there to listen.