Gren had taken to whistling to pass the time.

He couldn't really think of much else to do.

Well, planning an escape was priority number one but he couldn't twist his mind enough to squeeze out a decent enough plan that could feasibly work.

So muted humming it was. Perhaps if he could hear some melodies, that could get the creative juices flowing.

He started off quietly, his voice so low that he could barely hear the lullabies himself. Gren got through four verses before he dared raise his volume to a whisper.

And then soon enough, Gren was singing.

He sang an old campfire song his parents would sing with him on the camping trips in the woods they took whenever they were home. He sang a few marches and bellowed out a couple songs that the soldiers in his unit would sing to keep their spirits up.

He sang about the mountains, the changing tides, the brisk autumn air, the glittering lights, the balance of light and dark.

He sang about dogs, he sang about cats. He even dug down deep into the trenches of his mind to remember the lyrics to some old nursery rhymes he used to like back before he was even old enough to even lift a training sword.

And suddenly-

-His voice died down. The foot he had been tapping along to the beat of a song about crab apple trees and milkweeds ceased to move. Gren fell utterly still, and silent.

There was a rattling of chains. Then a painfully quiet groan.

The other prisoner.

Gren didn't know what to do about this mysterious other prisoner that Lord Viren was keeping.

Whoever it was, there must have been a reason for them to be down here.

Could have been a good reason, like them being a political prisoner. If they had been a seriously dangerous criminal, they would have been sent up to the facility in the northern mountains where security was just as strong, if not stronger than the security around the castle.

But King Harrow wasn't holding anyone as a political prisoner at this time. Certainly not any human political prisoners from any of the neighboring kingdoms. Not while the Five Kingdoms were in the long and arduous process of hashing out a new trade deal.

King Harrow had let all of the political prisoners held by Katolis go as a show of good faith to the other kingdoms to get them to all agree on it.

However, it seemed as though Lord Viren had reversed this policy, even though it would be political suicide to do so while the international community was monitoring the situation in Katolis so closely…

… But maybe it wasn't a political prisoner from outside of Katolis. It was entirely possible -in fact, highly more likely- that this was a Katolian prisoner. Someone who may have been standing in Lord Viren's way to power.

Like Gren was.

Straightening himself out, Gren rolled his neck and arched his back. A series of cracks riveted his spine in perfect harmony with the clinking of his armor.

He glanced back up at the doorway across from him, partially hidden by the spiral stone staircase.

"So, what's your story?"

Author's Note:

Ok yeah, this is the shortest chapter yet in a fic where the chapters are already so short, not to mention it's been more than a week since the last update. But to make up for it I am announcing an official schedule for updates! I will be uploading a new chapter for this fic every SATURDAY and WEDNESDAY and any time in between if I finish writing up a chapter. Hope y'all enjoyed this chapter and I would like to thank everyone who reviewed this story! Your reviews are the true drivers behind this fic :D