Author's Note:

Hello Again,

It's been a long time since I posted a new story, so please review and read. This is not necessarily a sequel to the series entitled "In the Name of Love and War", but a continuation of sorts. Meaning, there will be references to things that occurred in each of those stories that will have an impact here. However, I have tried to write this one with as much information from the back stories as possible. It would be helpful if you read those stories but hopefully it won't be necessary to understand everything that's going on here; that's is unless you really want to! The story starts with four short introductory chapters, then they will get longer, I promise. Thanks again for taking a look. I so appreciate it and I hope you enjoy!

Shout out and a big thanks to my wonderful Beta reader LoyaulteMeLie! She took time out of her busy, busy schedule to help me out and I am very grateful. You really are the best!

Bri

Chapter One: Caged

"Let me out of here!" he yelled. "I said let me out of here, goddammit! Open this fuckin' door! I'm gonna break it down if somebody doesn't open this damned door in the next few minutes, I swear it!"

"Hey!" There was no response, and his frustration mounted. "Hey! Somebody! Anybody! I need to talk to somebody!" He continued to bang loudly on the door and to try and find something that would open it, but nothing worked.

The door that was standing between him and his freedom was like a fortress. But why was he locked in? Was this a prison? What had he done and what would happen to him next? Surely someone was going to talk to him!

There was a small window inserted just eye level in the center of the door. He positioned himself to try and see if he could see anything. There seemed to be a few others passing by in white pajamas, guided by what looked like nurses or medics. He looked down at himself; he was wearing the same white pajamas. Was this some kind of hospital?

The pajama-clad, angry individual looked around the room and couldn't find anything to throw against the window or the door. The only thing in the room besides the bed was a table and the chair beside it.

He tried to move the table but it was bolted to the floor, and the chair was too. "What kind of a fool place bolts the furniture to the floor!" he yelled out loud, feeling himself getting angrier and angrier.

Someone had locked him away and he was determined to know why. He had a right to know and he knew he had to make it to the other side of that blasted door, even if he didn't know what was behind it; even if he didn't know what he had done to warrant being locked up; even if he didn't know where he was or where he was going…even if he didn't know who he was!

After he tried yelling, cursing and loudly banging on the door again, he hurried back to the chair and tried to tear it free from its fasteners, but it wouldn't budge, which only made him angrier. So, he continued his wild rant, fast pacing around the room, back and forward, banging on the door and the window, screaming and using words that couldn't be found in any respectable database.

"Fuck this!" he yelled. "And fuck all of you!" he screamed into the small window through which he could still see people passing by.

"Hey! Hey!" he screamed at a man in a blue uniform. "You hear me, you idiot motherfucker? I know you hear me!"

"I'm gonna break someone's goddamned neck when I get out of here, you shit-eating bastards!"

"Hey! Listen to me! Open this fuckin' door!"

He then returned to the chair, which was bolted to the floor with some type of mechanism; he couldn't figure out how it worked. So, he just grabbed the chair by its metal leg and began to pull. As he pulled, he could feel his anger rising more and more. His face felt hot and sweat poured down the sides of it. Nevertheless, he kept pulling at the chair and, much to his surprise, it finally budged. Actually, it broke. When one of the metal chair legs snapped loose from the floor, he was confused.

'I must be really strong,' he thought to himself, wondering how he could have gotten that way. Was he born like that or had something happened to him? Maybe this was the reason he was locked up. But no matter, he had a weapon. Soon he was able to tear the chair completely free. He took it and threw it against the door but it only bounced off. He dodged getting hit by it on the rebound, then took it and began banging it against the walls, making a lot of additional noise as he yelled.

Then he took the leg of one of the chairs and bent it until it broke off, again marveling at his own strength. He took the jagged edge of the chair leg and began striking the window with it.

Suddenly, several people wearing blue uniforms came running. Apparently, they'd worked out wherever the noise was coming from. A tall, muscular man put a code in the door and it slid open. The captive immediately jumped forward and started swinging the chair leg at him. The man dodged it and they danced around for a few seconds before two of tall guy's buddies rushed the room and tackled him. It took all three of them to hold him somewhat steady, just long enough for a young woman to press a hypo spray to his neck.

"What the hell are you doing to me?" he screamed as they partly released him and he clapped a hand to his neck. "Where am I? Who are you fuckin' people and why are you tryin' to kill me?"

"We are not trying to kill you," the young woman said. "We are trying to help you." The men then lifted him up and carried him over to the bed, and although he still tried to resist, whatever was in that hypo had caused him to already feel the effects of it as he was too woozy to shake them off. They then fastened restraints to his wrists and ankles.

"Why are you doing this?" he yelled frantically. "What is this place and why am I here? This…this is a crazy house, isn't it!"

"We prefer the term 'Mental Health Retreat'," one of the young men said.

"I don't give a damn what you prefer!" the patient spat. "What am I doing here? I – I wanna talk to somebody in authority! If this is some kinda hospital I wanna talk to a doctor or an administrator or somebody!"

"Certainly," the young woman replied. "I will have to summons your wife first, however. She will want to be consulted."

"My wife?" he asked, staring wide-eyed at the young woman.

"What do you remember today?" the woman asked. "I am your personal nurse and care-giver, Drakely. Do you remember me today sir?"

When the patient did not answer, but just stared at her, she went on, "Do you know who you are?"

He closed his eyes for a second. He didn't even know that much. "Just … just get the damned doctor!" he yelled out of frustration.

"Right away, Your Majesty," the woman stated, and then bowed slightly. The men followed suit.

Things were just getting weirder by the minute. "Your Majesty!" the restrained man repeated, confused at the use of the title.

"Why yes, of course, Your Grace," Drakely replied.

"Okay, okay, hold on for just a moment," he said, a bit calmer now as the medication was starting to take ahold. But he was even more confused by their sudden respect.

"Who – just who the hell am I…and why are you referring to me as fuckin' royalty?"

"Your Majesty, unfortunately you have been quite ill for some time, requiring your hospitalization off-world due to a unique set of circumstances. Your mind is rather impaired, and your wife had you brought to this fine facility for treatment.

"As to who you are, you are Sir Charles the Third, Prince Consort of Her Majesty Kaitaama, First Monarch of Krios Prime."