Was it one hundred and fifty-three days or one hundred and fifty-four?
Shit – he forgot.
No sense in asking Lucinda who was currently sprawled across the bed, gazing blankly at the ceiling.
Jack scribbled over his tallied wall in aggravation, knowing full well ticking the days as they pass will only drag out his existence. It'd be better to just let it go.
He began pacing back and forth across the rug, following the rut he'd created after being captive so very long.
Lucinda – the poor girl – had mentally checked out about a month or so after being locked inside their glorified jail cell. It was a shame, her only crime was falling for the Prince, a man that could not love her the way that other men could.
Jack threw the pen across the room, drawing Lucinda from her daze. She sat up slowly, staring at Jack with those wide eyes of hers and it made him sick.
"Jack?" Her voice was raspy from disuse.
Not bothering with an answer, Jack pressed himself against the wall and slid to the floor, pressing his eyes with the heel of his hands. Over a hundred days locked in this fucking room and he has yet to come up with an escape plan.
A soft touch against his cheek drew him out of his thoughts, surprised and concerned to see Lucinda kneeling in front of him.
"Your Father wants you to bear him an heir." She said simply, running her fingers through Jack's hair, "Perhaps we should-"
Jack caught her wrist, loosening his grip when he noticed how frail and bird like it was, "Silas will never raise another heir." He informed her, glaring over her shoulder at the camera pod in the ceiling.
He stood, leaving her where she was and stepped into the bathroom. There was no door – no privacy. Jack leaned against the porcelain sink, glaring at the man staring back at him thru the mirror.
That man was no leader – not a future King. He was everything that Jack despised. Without thought, Jack jabbed his fist into the mirror, watching as a slew of shards rained into the sink and at his feet.
There was his way out.
In retrospect, Jack wasn't certain in which way he thought this. Whether he thought to kill himself or whether he truly believed security would burst in to try to save the Prince.
Either way, Jack snatched up the largest sliver of the mirror and sliced open his wrist. The blood bubbled up to the surface too slowly, so he cut again and again until the lower portion of his arm was a bloodied mess.
He could vaguely hear Lucinda's pleas, feel her trying to pry his hand away from his arm – but what cut through his determined haze was the sharp crack of the main door being swung open.
This was his chance.
Jack spun around and grabbed Lucinda, pulling her beside him before pressing the slippery shard against her neck.
Three security guards flooded inside, all stopping short at the position their Prince was in. He almost laughed at the surprise on their faces – as if being locked away in one room for God knows how fucking long would make a man sane.
"Prince Jack-" One started, putting their palms out in a placating move.
Jack didn't have time for this. He could see the door – wide open – and he felt high off the prospect of getting the hell out.
"Do not come any closer." He warned, careful to make sure the edge of the shard didn't cut Lucinda's skin.
The same guard – one he didn't recognize, and that was probably a strategic move on Silas' behalf – pursed his lips, taking a testing step forward anyway.
Jack grit his teeth, seeing that this was not going to go according to plan. Ignoring the way his stomach flipped, Jack pulled the shard away from Lucinda and pressed the mirror's edge against his throat, "Back away." He growled – all manners aside.
The three men did as he asked, allowing a small space for Jack to shuffle through, holding Lucinda in front of him.
Jack took one step outside the room, only to be bombarded with a throng of guards. Behind them stood his Mother. She had the audacity to look concerned at the sight of him.
"J-Jack, don't." Lucinda shuddered.
Seeing no other alternative and knowing he wasn't going to make it past, Jack dropped the makeshift weapon and linked his fingers behind his head, stepping away from Lucinda.
His fiancé was escorted away as Jack was pushed back into the damned room. A nurse was ushered inside and quickly went to work, tending Jack's wounds.
Perhaps it would have been better if he'd just bled out.
Lucinda did not come back that night – or the night after that.
After about a week, Silas came around. He looked older, more weathered, and he hated the fact that the disapproval plastered onto his face reverted him back into a small child under the eyes of his Father.
Jack didn't bother to speak. Just as he didn't bother to eat or drink or sleep. He just laid there, watching the man he'd called Father step closer to him.
"I've thought you to be many things, Jack." He began, shaking his head in judgment, "But a coward?" Silas tisked his tongue, "I'd rather let the world know of your disgraces as a faggot than to let them know of your cowardice." His words were biting, but Jack could hardly feel the sting, "I will get my heir elsewhere." Silas went on, snatching Jack's jaw between his fingers, "But you will rot in here for the rest of your miserable existence."
The King released his grasp on Jack, wiping his hands across his suit before leaving the room.
Jack blatantly ignored the useless tears that fell from his eyes, not having the strength to hold them back or even to care.
He missed Lucinda.
There was a rustling outside his window, and if Jack had been more coherent, he might have checked to see what it was. It certainly didn't sound like it was just the wind.
It was quite possibly the drugs the guards had administered after Jack staged another half-baked attempt of escape, driven mad by isolation.
A flash of golden hair came into view and he reached out, "God?" He breathed, feeling like he was having an out of body experience.
The man's face was contorted with worry, which was somehow familiar, "Come on, Jack." He grunted, pulling him out of the bed and slinging his arm over his broad shoulders. Jack followed unquestioningly towards the window, "Can you hold onto this?" The man asked, placing Jack's hands onto a handle bar attached to some sort of wire.
"Yes." He answered, not very sure of himself, but it didn't matter anyway. This must either be a dream, or some hallucination.
Jack clung onto the bar and dropped, feeling the rush of cool air blowing against him and the clarity of it brought him back to reality, realizing he was gliding ten stories over the glowing city.
He cursed, squinting his eyes ahead to see exactly where he was heading. Finally, after what felt like hours, his feet dragged against the solid roof of a building. Jack tucked himself and fell into a hard roll, sucking in deep breaths of the fresh air.
Was this all real?
He startled when the sound of something whooshed past him. Jack scrambled to his feet, holding himself in a fighting stance, "Who the hell are you?" He coughed out, not used to speaking.
The figure walked towards him and as his eyes adjusted, David's face appeared.
"You?"
David didn't respond – he just pulled Jack into a hug.
Jack stood there, arms at his side as he waited, unsure of what was going on, "God told me that you needed me." David shared, pulling back to look Jack in the eye.
Jack let out a bitter laugh, "He waited a long time to do so it seems."
David didn't let Jack's bitterness faze him as he gestured towards the door leading inside from the roof, "We need to get out of here."
He rested his palm against Jack's back, pressing him forward. Jack jerked back, glaring at the man that had gone against him, the golden boy that had sided with his Father after Jack had saved him from the firing squad, "And where do you intend on taking me?"
David took in a deep breath and turned towards him, placing his hands on Jack's shoulders so he could look him straight in the eyes, "A lot has happened since you've been gone, Jack." He explained, "And I know it's hard for you to do, but I need you to trust me."
Jack scanned David's face for any trace of deception, but all there was to see was completely open honesty. Still skeptical, Jack nodded slowly in agreement. It wasn't like he had any other options.
David grinned and it was like the sun breaking through the haze. Jack followed him blindly, not knowing what was to come… but anything was better than the prison he'd been confined in.
Strangely, with David by his side… he felt whole for the first time.
Just a little Kings one-shot I found from a while ago.