Escape from Whitestone Hold

Five-Star Accommodations- Chapter 3

Sapphira hazily awoke to hear the resumed sounds of a crying baby. She blinked against the sunlight streaming in the window. It was late morning, judging by the angle of the light from the barred window. She was laying on her back on a wooden cot, with the same furry, stinky, crying baby laying on her chest. And they were alone in a jail cell, complete with all the cliché bells and whistles. Typical stone walls, dank cobblestone floor, iron bars on the door and window... Everything she could have asked for to make a nightmare come true. Sapphira groggily reached for the back of her aching head, feeling the tender lump from where she'd been struck. No blood. She sat up and coddled the child, trying to adjust herself to her surroundings. Her arm still hurt as well, unsurprisingly, but it was minor, and she was able to move and look around without any trouble. Outside the door, there seemed to simply be a hallway of other cells. No guards anywhere to be seen. No one at all, in fact. She stood, trying to see out the window, only to see an opposing building and not much else.

The baby continued screaming like his life depended on it, wailing louder and louder every second, it seemed. Sapphira sat back down, trying to bounce him up and down on her lap. They could have at LEAST changed him before throwing an infant in prison... She grumbled inwardly, looking around for any food or water. There was none. Really?! This poor child is probably dying of thirst!  She sighed, feeling pretty thirsty, herself. ...And hungry, of course, but she'd gotten used to that long before meeting Maltheus.

"Hey!!!" She called out loudly, hoping to draw the attention of a guard. There was no response. "HEY!!!" She yelled still louder, adding a bit of her thundering dragonborn roar. Her call echoed throughout the empty halls, but still got no response, aside from the child in her lap quieting down for a moment in sheer terror. Sapphira apologized softly to the small one, rocking him back and forth and trying to calm him. He immediately began crying again. She sighed and rolled her eyes, standing and beginning to pace around the room while rocking him in her arms. Maybe the refugee camp wouldn't have been so bad after all...

There was nothing in the room but the bed. Not so much as a fork or a bedpan to be seen. Nothing to bang on the cell doors or make a loud noise, and nothing to use for an escape attempt. Even if she did escape, this place was probably crawling with guards...

"What am I gonna do with you, huh?" She asked, looking down at the screaming poop machine. "Why did they even bother leaving you with me if they didn't leave me anything to take care of you?"

There was no response except for the continued wails of the infant in her arms, as she walked around her tiny, featureless cell. She sighed, craning her neck to look further down the hall outside her cell. It was devoid of all signs of life. Sapphira grumbled to herself, trying to decide what to do. At least the Magistrate didn't know my name... So if I do manage to get out of here, I guess I'm not likely to be tracked down or pinned with a criminal record... Seems like Maltheus might not be so lucky, though... Assuming they don't simply execute him... Sapphira almost felt bad that Maltheus had gotten captured for trying to help. It seemed like he had been genuinely trying to do what he thought was right. Maybe he was still an idiot... But a nice idiot. No way this good-hearted pacifist was the son of the most fearsome draconic terror in the realm, at least.

...Then again, he did mention his father having a jet pack... Sapphira stopped in her tracks and nearly dropped the baby, struck with a shocking realization. Holy cow, is that random coward actually the son of Drogoz FlameTerror, Scourge of the Skies and Bane of a Hundred Towns? She blinked, trying to understand. Why on earth did Maltheus not obliterate the guards that stood in his way, if he truly was the son of such a powerful dragon? Why would ANYONE, no matter how foolish, allow themselves to be captured instead of fighting back!? Is being hanged or rotting in prison ever preferable to dying with a blade in your hand? ...Yet now that was her fate, and she'd likely never again see the fool who had landed her there.