Even with the excessive drinking Regis was a proud man, arrogant too but no one had dared tell him that as he led the rebellion to victory. Even though there hadn’t been a body and he knew that his daughter had something to do with his disappearance he had convinced himself the Prince was dead. Through his warped and twisted mind, he had fully convinced himself that the Prince had died in that cell, it was something he had believed in so much it became true in his mind. Sleep hadn’t been an option for him, not whilst he was dragged back to the Capital practically laughing the whole way because Regis was not in the right frame of mind. 

Throughout it all Regis had kept his sickly smile plastered across his face, the cackles of laughter even throughout the pain because he honestly believed he had won this. Screams of how the monarchy was doomed, how nothing could bring back a dead son and the crown would die with the sick father was repeated over and over even whilst he was tortured. Nothing could break him; he was a man who had nothing to lose and that was dangerous. A man who had nothing to lose would often gain the most, would often be so reckless that it would cause the others downfall and that was Regis. 

Glancing around his cell it was vastly different from his own, the makeshift one in his basement was nothing of this calibre, but then he wasn’t a King with a castle. He had no dungeon, no toys of torture to make his enemies squeal and he was okay with that because at the end of it all they would all die the same. [i]If only I could have a drink, that would top everything off[/i]. Thinking to himself as he hummed in his cell clearly happy with what he had achieved. 

It didn’t matter that he was bruised or bleeding; it didn’t matter he had been hurt with their creative ways of torture because nothing could bring him down from his high. Though now he had the shakes and sweats because he hadn’t had a drink in so long, that was the only downside to being captured by the enemy. Nothing to drink and his body was reacting to that, especially as the alcohol had been his life source a way of coping throughout his time in the district. 

“Oh, you sound tired, didn’t get any sleep?” Regis smirked from his cell as he looked up at his new visitor, Jacob who had been the one to find him in the district and bring him in for questioning. “I’m ready to talk. Are you ready to listen?” His voice sounded hoarse; he had no water nor food whilst here but that was not what his body was crying out for. It wanted alcohol. “I don’t think you’re ready to here my tale of how I killed that spoilt little Prince of yours.” Laughter echoed throughout the cell as the malicious glint returned in his eye, it was clear he had lost his mind but was relishing in every moment of it.