I Was Once, Possibly, Perhaps, Maybe a King [Brusnop]

Prologue.

"I hope you realise how badly you've screwed yourself over, Jon," an accusatory, strongly accented voice echoed around the stony walls of the dungeon located below the surface of Worsnop Castle.

"Me?" Another voice, Jon, exclaimed; followed by the sound of shattering glass. "Do you think I wanted this to happen? To wake up one morning chained against the walls of a fuckin' cell?"

"Calm down, mate. I'm only here to help," the other man grumbled, picking up the scattered remains of what had once been Jon's mirror; the one item the guards had allowed him to keep with him, after deciding that it would do the man no harm.

"I don't have much time here, Jon. They'll be back soon, and I can't leave em' any evidence that anything happened down here. But you know why I'm here, don't you?"

Jon muttered something unintelligible, and Jeremy took this as a fair sign to continue speaking.

"I'm here to discuss your son. You probably think you're experiencing hell down here, but what about Ben? He's three years old, Jonothan. Three. Who's gunna' take care of him while you're stuck in this god damn cell?"

"It's been sorted out, I'm-"

"How the hell can you have this all sorted out? I've had him under my wing for the past month because, fuck, I'll do anything to help my best mate out but we can't afford to feed another kid any longer-"

"Damnit, Jeremy. Let me finish!" Jon growled impatiently, taking a small step forward to face Jeremy properly through the rusted metal bars that separated the two men. "As I mentioned before, it's sorted okay? Worsnop's willing to let me go at a price. Just as long as I don't show my face around town for a while, I'm fine. And as for Ben..."

Jon trailed off, not exactly sure how to phrase the rest of his sentence. Jeremy took his friend's words in slowly, trying to process what had just been said.

Jon's free. He's free to leave his cell. He's free to return home. And Ben, he'll be-

A sudden thought hit Jeremy, realisation piercing through his chest. He wouldn't.... But he knew Jonothan Paul Bruce well enough to know that yes, he would. And this was exactly what he was planning to do to gain parole. The older of the two men took a single glance at his imprisoned friend's face.

Guilt, regret, remorse. A single glance was all that was needed to confirm his assumptions.

Ben was the price he's have to pay.

"You can't..." Jeremy protested helplessly, knowing all too well that he could, and he would. "Y-you wouldn't do this to your own son, Jon. I know you're not the greatest father out there but this... This is crossing the line!"

The younger man remained silent, regretting ever mentioning his son's name. No, he regretted bringing his son into this world. Poor, innocent Ben deserved a parent who gave two shits about him.

If cradling your son's delicate body in your arms is supposed to be one of the greatest feelings in the world, then why couldn't he feel a thing when Ben was born?

Even now, three years into the future, Jonothan was ready and willing to throw away his son's life - a life that had barely even begun, down the drain in exchange for several more years of freedom. Until he was caught again, that is.

"I-I'm just... Fuck, I don't even know what I'm doing anymore," Jon groaned, tugging at his hair in frustration. "Just... Just promise me this, okay? I'll have to disappear for a while; King's direct orders. But Ben's free to lead a normal life until he's eighteen. Let him make the most of it, alright?

But Jeremy would not let such a delicate thing die on his conscience.