“You live here. I let you live here. I gave you a home. You're ungrateful. I took you and I keep you warm. You live here. I give you a home. I give you a place to sleep. I let you be like a person. You are ungrateful. You live. Here.”
The Warden is the 2nd(?)-stage fetter of Prince Prism, preceded by The Prisoner.
How did he come to pass?
You don't deserve to know that, do you.
It is immediately apparent that The Warden is much more social and personable than his precedent, the Prisoner. He will tell you: the only thing keeping him bound in chains was himself. Look, even his wounds are healing nicely, with very little effort of his own -- only willpower and incredible, incredible, incredible patience. Patience that the Warden has now run dry of.
He isn't cruel. No, cruel isn't a good word -- cold, perhaps, in the way he insists on your silence because he already knows everything you have to say, and it's all pointless, and he is very tired of your games, and if you'd just shut up you'd be much happier. Please. He'll deal out genuine kindness to you, and compassion, but he knows you don't deserve it. You haven't deserved it since you heard his screams from that dark dungeon and turned away.
It's better for you both if you would just comply and keep your head down. It'd be easier. He's doing this for your own good, can't you see? Well, of course you can't.
He carries himself with an air of sick, bitter satisfaction, and this bitterness seeps through his entire being into his core. Every prisoner he leads to death is another unforgiving, selfish, miserable soul freed that he will never, ever have to speak with again. That he will never have to bear again. This is what they want, what they need! What they've all been hoping for for soooooooo very long.
Despite appearances the Warden has no remarkable abilities of his own. A commanding presence, maybe? Generosity? Might as well be considered an ability after what he used to be. Really, though, he's completely mundane in terms of magic or superhuman capabilities. In fact, he seems to have a strange limp and is sometimes overcome with terrible pain, which doesn't aide well in physical conflicts.
It's customary to let prisoners have a last supper before they're led to execution.
Any number of people who become trapped within The Warden's environment find themselves first at a very long dinner table, with a simple meal in front of them. The food itself can vary, but it is always a dish that the person in question enjoys. Everything is a stark white, from the walls to the dinnerware to the table. After the victim is finished eating, they will be handcuffed and escorted by two guards to their holding cell.
They will wait here for an indeterminate amount of time. For some it is hours; for some it is days. For the latter, small meals will be provided; The Warden does not treat his prisoners cruelly.
Eventually, guards will come to guide them through the ever-stretching hallways of identical empty cells to the center of the facility, an open field big enough to hold a crowd of people and a single guillotine standing above them. The Warden will be waiting for them.
The skies are always a bright blue, and it is always gorgeous weather -- too pretty for an execution -- but one must do what one must. Isn't that right?
[relationships with other characters, other fetters, etc.]
Occasionally, though not intentional, he'll slip back into his old ways, growling out violent, miserable words before realizing and shaping up again.