Expendable?

People are expendable? But aren't they cute? I mean, wasn't I cute? * Highborn by the grace of the gods, no less than a king-to-be. Stripped of all nobility and left to rot by the grace of men. A story of might, magic and grand betrayal, now reduced to the confines of a clammy cell. You were to wither away until the years would claim your sanity and ultimately your life. And wither you did until one day an opportunity to escape presented itself... ----- A bargain well struck, you told yourself. Yet in all this time spent withering in your cell doubt has never left you. Can betrayal ever be righteous? If you could tell the nights from days you would spend them plotting your revenge; or so you used to tell yourself. The years went on and took your anger with them, but your desire for freedom never left you. And so you lied in wait until an opportunity to escape presented itself...