Receiving a call that his son was missing was not the way Atlas had expected to start his day.

When Jacob had phoned the palace, he had still been in bed, groggy on the aftereffects of the cocktail of medication he had to take before he fell asleep every night. Unable to get up quite yet, he’d asked one of the sit-in security guards to take care of it. The man he complied, but he’d only gotten about two more minutes of peace and quiet before the guard had returned and insisted that he take the call, himself. Irritably, the king had complied, sitting up on his mattress and taking the phone from his hand. He couldn’t think of a good reason why someone would have been so insistent on disturbing him so early in the morning when Caspian could manage the issue by himself. So, intending to give the caller an earful, he had lifted the device to his ear and curled his lip to snarl into the receiver only to fall speechless when the man on the other end said those four little words: [i]The prince is gone.[/i]

Forgetting his condition, Atlas untangled himself from the sheets and fumbled to jump up from his bed as soon as Jacob finished relaying most of the information to him. Ellie was at his side in a heartbeat, hurriedly yet tentatively asking him to sit down before he hurt himself, but the monarch didn’t listen. Right now, the pain in his legs was inconsequential. His son—his only living heir—was missing. Pressing one hand against the bedpost to steady himself, he uttered a string of curses, each word fouler than the last. “How could you have let this happen?” he snapped angrily into the phone. “Those bastards are nothing more than annoying pests. There is no reason that they should have gotten away with this!”

[i]The prince snuck out on his own, Your Majesty,[/i] Jacob replied slowly, trying to keep the king calm with his own mellow voice. [i]We reviewed the security footage from last night. He left the grounds with the amnesiac girl of his own free will, and the vehicle they took turned up by the edge of the forest. I believe she may have been complicit in the attack—[/i]

“Attack?” Atlas raised his voice furiously. “You said my son was missing, not that he was attacked! Do you even know if he’s still alive?” His blood roared in his ears, and his vision had turned red. If the Scourge had killed his only successor, the monarchy was doomed. He couldn’t have any other children because even if he reversed the vasectomy he’d gotten for his deceased wife, the drugs he was taking for his illness had left him sterilized. Caspian was the only man standing in the way of the crown’s collapse. It was the reason why he believed the rebellion had chosen this period of time to start a war. The monarchy had never been this feeble before, and it probably never would be again.

[i]It hasn’t been confirmed yet, but we found a large rock stained with blood that we believe belongs to Prince Caspian. It seems that the enemy may have used it to knock him out, so they could take him without a struggle. I believe he’s still alive though. There was no blood anywhere else on the premises, and the spatter on the rock wasn’t enough to have come from a fatal wound.[/i]

“Damn it!” Atlas roared, throwing a punch at the bedpost. “I should have had that bitch killed while I had the chance.” He knew Iris was to blame. None of this had happened until she’d shown up at the palace. She was a snake in their den, but because he’d let Caspian have his way, he might have just lost his son. “Call the general and tell him that I want every soldier working on this case—even the off-duty men. Have every non-high born visitor in the capital apprehended and taken to the prison for holding until they can be questioned. If there is even the slightest hint that a commoner has dealings with the Scourge, they are to be executed immediately. Those bastards are going to regret laying even one finger on my son.”

[i]Yes, Your Majesty.[/i]

“And Jacob,” Atlas growled. “You and your men had better bring him back alive, or I’ll have each and every one of you sentenced to death as well for neglect of duties.”

[i]…Of course, Your Majesty.[/i]

--

Time was unreadable in the never changing blackness of Cas’s prison. He laid on his back, having woken up from his nap a while ago, and stared blankly up at the ceiling. His hands rested over his stomach, fingers toying idly with his rope bindings. He didn’t know how long it had been since he’d last had anything to drink, but judging by the cotton ball feeling in his mouth and the dehydration headache that had started to wrap its tendrils around his skull, it had probably been close to a full day. He tried to remember how long humans could go without water before they died. Was it something like three days? [color=#b97703][i]What happens in the days leading up to that point?[/i][/color] He wondered, heaving a sigh as he rolled onto his side. [color=#b97703][i]Am I just going to get weaker until I can’t open my eyes anymore? Or maybe I’ll start hallucinating or something.[/i][/color] He found himself hoping for the latter. At least that way, he might have a method to keep himself entertained while he waited for the soldiers to break him out of his cell.

[color=#b97703][i]How do P.O.W.s put up with this for so long?[/i][/color] He groaned aloud at the thought. He probably hadn’t been locked up for more than a day—if that—yet he was already bored out of his mind and so exhausted that he was starting to feel tremors coming on. Part of him was starting to regret turning his nose up to the food and water Iris had brought for him before too. It had been a dumb idea. If nothing else, he should have filled his stomach so he could keep his energy up in case he was able to escape. Instead, because he’d let his pride get the best of him, he was famished, laying on the cold floor with nothing to stave off the hunger and thirst that was now constantly nagging at him. He’d just made himself more miserable.

Trying to get his mind off his discomfort, he forced himself to sit up so he could work on the ropes around his ankles again. He may not have been able to get at the ties on his wrists very easily, but if he put in enough effort, he was sure he could at least free his feet. [color=#b97703][i]Lucky for me, they didn’t think to use zip ties…[/i][/color] he thought to himself, fingering the coarse bindings as he attempted to loosen the knot.