"Hello?"

Dave didn't even flinch when his door opened, or when Charlie greeted him, or when she sat on the side of his bed.

"Henry is... really pissed."

Dave curled up under his blankets even more, which had become stained with both tears and blood that had been shed during the past few hours. He was certain that once he saw himself in the vanity mirror, he'd be unable to recognize his own face.

Charlie twirled a strand of her hair absentmindedly.

"I don't know what exactly he's planning, but..." She began, voice low, but still audible. "I don't think he's going to leave Jack unpunished."

"... stop."

The word was simple, but it sent a cold chill throughout Charlie's entire body.

"I don't want to hear about him right now." Dave mumbled, the tears already back into his voice.

A couple minutes passed without a word from either of the two, the only sounds in the room being Dave's shaky exhales and whimpers, the sound of wind pressing against the window pane, and Charlie's shifting position on the bed.

When Charlie looked back at Dave, he had lowered his blanket from his chin so his head was just barely peeking out, and his eyes seemed to be fixated on the window, then the closet, then back to the window.

"... your highness?"

Dave tossed the bedsheets off of himself and marched to the closet, slamming the wooden doors open and beginning to pull out multiple linen sheets. Charlie was confused at first, but then it dawned on her what he was doing.

"William, what the hell are you thinking?!" He had already opened the bay window and tied multiple sheets together, enough to get down at least two stories from his room.

"Taking things into my own hands." He replied, tying the last few knots together and slinging it out of the window. "I've gotta get Jack somewhere safe."

"Your highness, stop that right now!" Charlie stammered, locking the bedroom door and rushing up to Dave in an attempt to stop him. She grabbed hold of his arm, and didn't let go even as he pushed his elbow into her sides. "You're only getting yourself into more trouble!"

"Am I acting like I care?" Dave growled, lowering the makeshift linen rope down until it was hung just above a freshly trimmed bush.

"No, and that's the problem!" Charlie shouted, although being careful about her volume, Henry could be there at any given time.

With a particularly forceful shove, Dave knocked her back to the floor, almost dropping the cloth in the process.

"I don't want to sit here doing nothing," He snapped, whipping his head around, the look on his face one of frustration. "You of all people would know how Henry punishes people."

Charlie's brows furrowed, and her fists balled up. This seemed to happen unconsciously, as when she saw Dave's horrified face, her fists loosened and her face softened again, and moved her hands behind her back.

"I want to help you, William," Charlie explained, picking at the skin on her fingers behind her back. "But you're risking both you and Jack's lives by going out there!"

Looking back to the rope, then to Charlie, then the rope once more, Dave sucked in a breath.

"If you wanted to help me, you'd let me go."

No response, but Dave could see the refusal in her eyes.

"Charlie, please, let me go." He pleaded, putting a hand on his chest. "Jack has to know what's coming. I promise I'll come back, just... give me a few days."

What seemed like an eternity passed with the two stood there, making intense eye contact, when Charlie sighed in defeat.

"... fine. If you're not back in two days, I'm coming down to the tavern myself," Charlie looked peeved about the agreement, but she also looked too tired to fight on it. "And we're going to figure out how you're going to get out of this town. You aren't safe here anymore."

Dave nodded rapidly, but before handing Charlie the end of the linen, he wrapped his arms around her. It felt weird to receive any physical affection, but the tense feeling lessened as she reciprocated the hug, her grip tight despite her shaking arms.

He handed her the linen, and held onto the rope tight as he hopped out the window. He heard Charlie curse to herself as the rope slid out a little more, leading Dave to believe her grip loosened, not very good to the anxious feeling in his gut.

The rest of the descent went down without a hitch, and once Charlie started pulling the linen back up, Dave gave a little wave and made a dash for the opening gate.

—————

On his way to the tavern, Dave had seen one of the special carriages for guards, recognizable by the large, pink crest with a golden bear on the door.

The immediate conclusion was just a weekly patrol, but they only did those on Fridays, unless Henry gave them the order two days early. A more alarming thought came to mind after; was he too late?

Motivated by this worry, he picked up his pace and began to sprint down the cobblestone pavement, paying no mind to the townsfolk giving him strange looks or calling after him.

Soon enough, he was on the street with Peter's tavern, and began to walk towards the building.

Once he was in front of the building, he was puzzled by the sight of Peter, head in his hands, bottle of whiskey gripped tightly in his hands. A small girl, presumably Jack's sister Dee, was clinging to Peter's arm tightly, face buried in his shoulder.

Upon making eye contact with Dave, Peter's face twisted from sadness to confusion, to pure, unbridled rage. The bartender stood up in what seemed like a flash, and he began to stomp over to the prince, face red and fists balled.

"You!" Peter growled, grabbing Dave by the collar. "Is this your idea of a joke?!"

Dave could almost taste the liquor on Peter's breath. "What?! What are you—"

"Jack! You sent your guards to arrest him, didn't you?!" Peter was almost spitting into Dave's face by now, and had attracted quite a bit of attention. "That was ten minutes ago, you—! What is your problem?!"

Dave couldn't respond. Those seemingly unreasonable thoughts were springing back into his head, almost completely shutting off any sort of way he could make a comment or ask anything.

The lack of response from the prince only seemed to make Peter angrier.

"What?!"

"You said Jack was..." Dave whimpered, his bottom lip quivering. "... arrested?"

"Yes, you dunce! Didn't you listen to a word I said?!" Peter let go of Dave's collar to throw his hands in the air in frustration. "Or are you trying to rub it in my face?!" The bartender snapped his head around to look at Dee, who was still sat on the entrance stairs, and pointed angrily towards the tavern. "And did you really have to shut the tavern down?! Whatever it is with you and Jack, me and Dee aren't even involved in it!"

"I..." Dave felt what little food he ate that morning begin to rise in his throat out of the intense fear and dread beginning to pool in his stomach. "I didn't do anything..."

Peter cocked an eyebrow suspiciously, but still kept the grimace on his face, even as the prince began to violently shake.

"No, no no," Dave's fingers had started to twitch, as if grabbing for something unseen. "This isn't happening, I'm too late, I—"

"Your highness, what's—"

Dave dropped to his knees, and started to tug at his hair repeatedly, tears coming out of his eyes like a switch had just been flipped. Thankfully, not many people were around at this point, whatever bystanders previously there having left in order to stay out of the ordeal.

Peter dashed over to the prince's side, who was trying to form a coherent sentence through what looked like a severe breakdown, but the only words he could fully form were along the lines of "Henry", "Jack", or "Hurt", causing Peter's concern to skyrocket.

"Y-Your highness, calm down," He said, lifting the still heaving prince up off the ground. "Let's... let's get you inside."

"So, you're telling me," Peter said, grabbing a glass and a bottle of rum off of one of the shelves. "You didn't send an entire posse of guards to arrest Jack?"

Dave glared at Peter.

"What does my face tell you right now, Kennedy?" He asked sarcastically, his fist balling up. "Do I look like I had a damn clue what Henry was doing?"

"Language, your highness," Peter cocked his head in Dee's direction, who Dave had just now noticed was hiding her face in a handful of pamphlets as a makeshift mask. "There's a child."

Dave pinched the bridge of his nose, trying not to let his still flowing tears become ones of anger, despite his frustration growing each passing second.

"That was my father," He explained, tracing his finger around the rim of the glass he had just been slid across the counter. "He found out me and Jack are a thing. He... wasn't exactly accepting." Dave tugged at the corner of his mouth, showing off the space missing a tooth from earlier in the morning.

Peter looked a little disgusted, but his face quickly changed to one of sorrow. "I'm... Sorry, your highness."

"Don't apologize." Dave replied, almost immediately, as if he had gotten remorse over this situation often.

A few minutes of awkward silence passed for the second time that day for Dave, before he began speaking once more.

"I can't go back to the castle." He remarked, taking a sip of his rum. "I need some place to stay. I was hoping you'd be so kind as to let me stay here for a few days."

"Your highness, I don't know if it's a good idea to stay here." Peter sweated, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. "Not only are we getting shut down soon, his majesty is going to be suspicious if you're gone, especially considering your... circumstances."

"He's gonna be more focused on Jack before he tries disciplining me." Dave croaked. "I've lived with him my whole life, I know how he deals with people who are 'out of line'."

Peter opened his mouth to speak, but clamped it shut, and nodded after a few moments of silence.

"I'd give you the key to Jack's room, but," Peter said, taking the now empty glass and putting it in a cupboard under the bar. "It doesn't have a knob. And you also kicked it in during your fit."

Dave gave him a forced, teeth baring smile, barely able to fight the urge to yell at him for calling his meltdown a fit, like he was a giant man-child. Nonetheless, he got up off of the stool and made his way to the door that lead up to the bedrooms.

—————

Jack opened his eyes groggily, and found himself in a barely lit room, the only source of light being the torch outside of the cell door.

It hit him then that he was in a prison. Of course he was, where else would the guards keep him?

He stand, but found himself tied down to the chair he was sat on. Not only were his legs and arms tied, but a rope had been tied around the area of his head, gagging him.

A few minutes passed of constant struggles, Jack failing to keep his presence unknown due to the repetitive thunk of the chair legs on the cement floor. He slumped down as far as he could, and almost shut his eyes again, when the loud, obnoxious creak of the cell door opening caused his eyes to snap back open.

"Mr. Kennedy," The familiar tone of King Henry's voice had gone sour, and sent a wave of shivers down Jack's back. "I see you're awake now."