"Do you think," Terramar said, "Silverstream got away?"
I looked around our cell. Square, only a little wider than my wingspan. The floor was hewn granite with a thin layer of dirt over it. A single filthy blanket lay heaped in the corner. A bucket. What was the bucket for? Oh. Oh, no potty. Ew. A small sconce above the door gave smoky, oily light, leaving the cell dim and flickering in shadows.
"Skystar?" Terramar said. "Do you think Silverstream got away?"
"I think so," I said. "She's a faster flier than either of us. And she's not here with us. She either got away, or they—"
Terramar turned away and sobbed. I pressed on the door. No give, no movement at all. Barred solidly from the outside. The cell was cold and damp, water dripping from the cinderblocks. It smelled like a Manehattan back alley. I rubbed at my neck, bruised where they had yanked off the leather lanyard that held my shard of the Pearl.
Leaning against a corner, Terramar winced. He slid down, sitting on the dirt and cradling his left arm to his chest. His wings flexed. "They broke my arm."
Kneeling down, I took his arm, delicately, in my claws. I didn't really know much about first aid—it wasn't something they had felt the need to teach a Crown Princess—but I took a close look at it. There was not an unnatural bend or extra joint, but it was swollen badly and skin under the feathers bruised black-and-blue.
I pounded on the iron-bound wooden door. A few seconds later, it swung open and one of the griffons glared in at us, a mask covering his face and a heavy wooden truncheon in his talon. "What!"
"My cousin," I said. "You broke his arm."
He brandished the truncheon. "I'll break your head."
"We need a doctor."
He laughed.
"Then give me a splint and bandages!"
He slammed the door and locked it.
"Well, how rude!" I said.
"Skystar? Don't be... yourself, please," Terramar said. His voice was thick with the pain of the broken arm, his breathing shallow and sharp.
I plopped down on the floor next to him and put an arm over his shoulder, then pulled the blanket up over us. It smelled rotten. We shivered in the damp cold for hours before they pushed some paper-wrapped dried fish and a clay pot of water through the slot at the bottom of the door.
"I wish Shelly and Sheldon were here," I said.
I don't know how long we slept, leaned against each other in the corner, but our breath steamed in the cold when we woke up. Terramar used a talon to scratch a single hash mark into a cinderblock. "One day," he said.
"H-how long do you think we'll be here?"
He gave a tiny shrug and then gasped as the movement tugged on his broken arm.
I looked away and blinked. Seeing my little cousin in pain—we'd grown up together, and I'd always seen him as a kid brother. I'd always tried to protect him. Watching him limp around the cell on three limbs, the hurt arm pulled up to his chest... I felt like I was the one with the broken arm, not him.
But really, it was my heart that was broken.
"Hey, uh, Skystar?" he said.
I raised an eyebrow.
"Can you, uh, not look? I have to use the bucket."
I covered my eyes with my wings. An hour later, when it was my turn, he returned the favor and covered his eyes.
Every time they reached under the door to empty the bucket or leave our rations, I pounded on the door and demanded more blankets.
I'd never really been cold before. Not in my life. I thought I had been, but I was wrong. A seapony is adapted to the cold, what with the blubber and the sea-creature blood. But Terramar and I were both in our hippogriff forms, and Hippogriffia is subtropical. We suffered in that cell.
How far underground were we? Pretty far, I guessed. It was summer in Equestria and Hippogriffia, so either they had transported us to the Frozen North, or we were in a cavern so deep it was cool and clammy all year around.
Clammy. That thought made me miss Shelly and Sheldon even more. I didn't want to upset Terramar, so I didn't tell him that the griffons and ponies who kidnapped us had stomped on Shelly and Sheldon. They were... dead.
I sniffled a tear away.
Slowly, Terramar's pain went down, along with the swelling. We never were able to get a splint for his arm, so we just had to hope it was healing right. By the second week the swelling was gone, but he still gasped when he moved too quickly.
They gave us enough food, but it was salty, and they didn't give us enough water. We got thirstier and thirstier.
Every night—well, "night," since we had no clue what time it was, no idea whether the sun was up or down—but every time we got sleepy, we curled up on the floor and pulled that precious, single blanket over us. We would both shiver and spasm as the granite sucked the heat from our bodies, but after a few minutes, our bodies would warm the thin layer of dirt and the blanket and we would stop shaking. We found that if he slept on his right side with his left arm tucked against his chest, and I spooned up behind him and put a wing over him, with my back against the wall, we were least likely to hurt his arm in our sleep.
According to the daily hash marks, it took us a week to figure that trick out.
Every night, after he fell asleep, I would silently cry. He was my little cousin and I hadn't been able to protect him. The best I could do was wrap a wing over him, and that was hardly enough.
I was the crown princess, destined to be queen someday. How could I guide and care for our entire race if I couldn't even protect one single 'griff who was so precious to me?
One night, he started muttering in his sleep. I cracked open an eye and listened. He mumbled some more and his body shook.
A strange smell hit my nose and he woke up with a jolt, moved his broken arm too fast, and started cursing.
"Oh, Tartarus..." he said. "Skystar? Can you, uh, close your eyes? I need to clean something up."
I rolled on my other side, away from him, and heard the sound of him wiping and scrubbing with the old newspapers that had wrapped the evening meal of dried fish.
That's when I recognized the smell: semen. His dream had, apparently, ended on a high note.
He dropped the papers into the bucket and then settled back down, his back to me. I rolled back over and wrapped a wing around him and pulled up the blanket. The smell hung thickly around us.
"I'm sorry," he said. "That's embarrassing."
"It happens."
I didn't mention to him that he'd been mumbling my name in his sleep when he ejaculated.
That would have been as awkward as bringing vegan kelp wraps to a fish fry.
After three weeks, a guard actually opened the door again. This was a pegasus, but she had a black cloth hood over her face and a cape over her cutie marks.
(Terramar and I had agreed that since they were at least making the effort to disguise themselves, there was probably a chance—a good chance—we would get out alive.)
"Your mother," the pony said, "isn't being a very amenable negotiator. You can expect to be here quite a while longer." She tossed a copy of the Canterlot Times onto the floor and pointed a camera at us. "We need proof of life. That's yesterday's paper. Hold it up and say 'Apple Cider.'"
I stomped on the newspaper, pulled myself up to my full height, and put on my Crown Princess act. "We need more water. And more blankets. And we need a splint to protect my cousin's broken arm."
She looked from me to Terramar back to me and shrugged. "Anything else?"
"Baths," I said, and brushed muck from my flank. "We're filthy."
She flicked her wings. "Yeah, y'all look awful. We'll give you two a shower before we take the proof-of-life picture."
When she said, give you two a shower, she meant that literally. We were both thrown into a small curtained area together. A hole was in the floor, large enough to step in and break an ankle, and a large bladder of water hung from the ceiling, gravity-feeding a showerhead.
"The water's warm-ish," said one of the griffons, "so don't be slow and let it get cold. And when it's gone, you're done. Don't ask for more."
"That's, uh," Terramar said, "just a few gallons."
We were completely filthy. Dirt, mud, and Storm-King-knew-what-else was ground into our coats and feathers. Much less our manes and tails! How were we supposed to get clean?
"Navy Shower," Terramar said. "That's what Uncle Seaspray called them."
"What?" I asked.
"We turn on the water, get wet, turn off the water, lather ourselves up, then turn the water back on and rinse. Not very pleasant, but you get clean."
I reached up and opened the value. At home, I would have called the shower "cold" and shouted and flapped and jumped out of the stall. But here? After weeks of that frigid cell, it seemed positively scalding. I directed the stream at Terramar and soaked his mane, back, wings, tail, then I directed the stream on myself and did the same. At first splatters, and then long rivulets of mud and muck ran off us and down the drain. I had to fight the urge to just let the water roll over my sore shoulders and wings and instead keep focused on getting us clean as fast as possible.
Standing, Terramar balanced by putting his good arm on the wall and I sprayed down his chest and belly and underside.
I didn't want to look, but I didn't really have a choice. His underside fur was crusty from his little nocturnal incident. He turned red as I got his... seashells and sea cucumber... wetted down, and then I moved the stream to his arms and legs. Last, I stood up and sprayed my own underside. He looked away as I wetted down my own coral reef.
I shut off the valve. The bladder of water was still more than half full. Good.
Terramar looked at the bottle of shampoo they had provided. "Zecora brand? Made in Ponyville? They must have cased the school, waiting for you and I to visit Silverstream—"
The griffon stuck his head into the shower stall. "Shut up."
Looking at me, a frown on his face, Terramar said, "Skystar? I can't—one handed—can you?"
I gave a little nod and squirted shampoo into his mane, down his back, and into his wings and tail. He stood on three limbs with his broken arm cradled safely and I massaged the shampoo into his coat, feathers, mane, tail, and down his legs and good arm.
Our eyes met and he nodded slightly, then held out his bad arm. As lightly as I could, I soaped it up, too. Terrmar winced, then said, "Thanks." He then stood and leaned against the wall with his good arm and I soaped up his chest and belly. I worked my way down, ignoring how his sea cucumber was slowly poking out of its cave, as one might say.
We looked at each other and both said, "Um."
He leaned his shoulder against the cinderblock wall and held out his good claw. I put a squirt of shampoo into his palm and then looked away, beginning to soap myself down and ignoring him cleaning his own undercarriage.
Once we were both fully soaped, our bodies covered in muddy, filthy suds, I turned the water back on and rinsed us both clean. His sea cucumber was fully extended by the time I got there, and I had to hold and aim the water carefully as he pulled back his sheath to get all the soap off—can you imagine the itch?—and I could feel my own face burning bright red, just like his, as I stared at him cleaning his most private part.
My brain informed me that he was not my little cousin anymore.
I could imagine Sheldon and Shelly's screams at me for that, they didn't need to be there, I could hear every angry—and correct—critical word.
Then I rinsed myself clean.
The griffon gave us some towels that weren't too dirty and we dried off. "We look like ourselves again," I said. Terramar nodded. They took the proof of life picture and let us keep the newspaper. We had logged twenty-four scratch marks on the wall, but according to the newspaper, twenty-five days had passed. If it really was yesterday's paper, then twenty-six. I added two scratch marks.
I read every word of the newspaper, twice, since I was bored off of my shells.
On page seven, beneath a tiny headline, was a short one-paragraph article: "Police, Guard Still Looking for Kidnapped Hippogriff Royals."
They gave us two more blankets, and doubled our water ration, but still no splint for Terramar's broken arm.
When we cuddled up that night, our throats quenched by the extra water, curled under the extra blanket and with a blanket between us and the floor, it was the height of opulent luxury.
A week later, they gave us another shower.
This time, they weren't bothering to cover their faces or cutie marks. We also saw two storm creatures mixed in with the ponies and griffons.
Terramar and I looked at each other, eyes wide, but said nothing.
They tossed us into the shower stall again and pulled the curtain closed. Once I had the water running, Terramar leaned close and whispered into my ear, "They're going to murder us."
"Well, I hope not," I said. I missed Shelly and Sheldon, but this wasn't how I wanted to get reunited with them.
Terramar had reached the point where he could put his weight on his left arm, so long as he didn't move around on it. He still limped three-limbed to walk, but he was able to stand and balance on it and soap his own underside with his good arm this time, and he was able to return the favor by soaping my mane, tail, wings, and back.
That felt—good. His hand massaged the soapy, slick suds into my head and my shoulders and the muscles on my wings and down my back and into the fur on my rump. As he started at the top of my tail, I bit my tongue, his fingers so close to my—
I shook my head, pushing away that thought. He worked his way down to the tip of my tail, I soaped off the rest of my body myself.
With a glance at him, I saw his sea cucumber was fully out of his sheath as he soaped it, getting it clean.
Once we were rinsed off and looking and smelling like ourselves again the griffon with the truncheon walked us back to our cell.
"Buh-bye," he said, grinning at us without his mask on as he slammed the door on us.
Terramar and I looked at each other and burst into tears.
They came back a few minutes later with another newspaper for another photograph. This time, Terramar and I were on page one, but below the fold.
"Silverstream's alive!" I gasped as I read the article.
Terramar plopped down and cradled his face in his hands, sobbing in relief, his entire body wracked with the relief that she was okay. For weeks, we had wondered if she was alive, if she had escaped, and the news hit him like a tsunami hitting a beach picnic.
"Our ambassador in Canterlot dropped half-dead from a heart attack when she told him what happened to you and me," I continued, summarizing the article, "and Silverstream took over his job and he's been recalled home for medical retirement. Silverstream's been leading the negotiations to get us loose..."
I kept reading.
"Oh, anemones," I whispered.
Terramar looked up. "What?"
"No wonder negotiations are breaking down," I said. "They want Hippogriffia. And Seaquestria."
"How—want—what do you mean? Want?"
"All the 'griffs and seaponies leave," I said.
"Oh." Terramar blinked and his ear-tufts vibrated. "Aunt Novo's not going to agree to that."
I nodded my head. Mom wouldn't. Couldn't. No wonder they weren't bothering to cover their faces or their cutie marks anymore. There's no way negotiations could succeed with those demands.
Unable to keep reading, I threw the newspaper in the bucket. Terramar and I had given up covering our eyes for the bucket weeks ago, so he just sort of looked at the ceiling while I peed onto the newspaper, to ensure I wouldn't be tempted to finish reading the article later.
That night—or whenever it was we got sleepy, since we hadn't seen the sun in a month—we laid out one of the blankets on the floor and pulled the other one over us. Instead of the usual spooning position to protect his broken arm, he turned to face me, us pressing our foreheads together, our beaks brushing against each other's, and we hugged.
We didn't sob, we just laid there quietly, but both of our faces were wet with silent tears.
"I... I don't blame Silverstream," Terramar whispered, "or your mom. About the negotiations. But...
"Yeah," I said. "Yeah."
We hugged tighter, pulling ourselves closer until our chests and bellies touched, beak-to-beak, and he started shaking. He buried his beak into my shoulder and his arms spasmed where they wrapped around my waist, under my wings. I'm sure that hurt the barely-healed break in his arm, but he just hugged me tighter.
I reached up and cradled his head in my talon, pulling him tighter to me, his face against the crook of my neck.
"Shhhh," I said. "Shhhh. I'm sure—I'm sure we'll get out of this. Somehow. Princess Twilight..."
"It's been over a month," he said. "If she was going to find us, she would have by now."
I patted his back with my other claw, and his wings flexed under my touch, the muscles going hard with the motion.
We held each other, our body heat warming the trapped air under those filthy blankets. I couldn't protect Terramar. If they decided to come in and murder us—I might hurt one or two of them, but they would, in the end, succeed.
But I could at least comfort my cousin, help him get to sleep, and let tomorrow worry about itself. I hugged him tighter.
That's when I noticed... something. Something firm poked me in the belly button. I shifted my hips a little, moving away.
"Sorry," he muttered. "I don't mean to."
I gave a tiny, brittle chuckle. "It's fine. Mind of its own?"
"Yeah."
"It's fine. Heh."
"Skystar..." he said. "When I had the wet dream, the other week... did I..."
"Did you...?"
"Talk in my sleep?"
I was silent.
"Did I?" he insisted.
"Yes."
"What... did... I..."
I felt my face flush. "You said my name."
"Shit. Sorry."
"'Griff's aren't responsible for their dreams," I said, hugging him tighter.
We touched our foreheads together again, this time with our eyes open, and stared at each other. His blue eyes, about the same color as my own, stared back at me. Our manes, also about the same color, were dingy in the poor light of the sconce.
For who knows how long, we just stared at each other, into each other's eyes, before...
Before...
To this day, I don't know if he kissed me, or if I kissed him, or if we kissed each other. I hope he kissed me. I'm the older cousin, the princess, the heir to the throne, and he's my little cousin that I'm supposed to protect. I never expected to have to protect him from myself, and I hope it wasn't me that kissed him. It's already so hard to forgive myself... if I actually was the one who moved first, it would be even harder...
But... suddenly, we were kissing, however it started. Our eyes closed as our beaks met. His tongue ran along the edge of my beak and my tongue met it. His warmth shocked me, the heat of his mouth against mine in that dungeon. The pressure of his cock pressing against my belly button increased, his hardon turning instantly into a raging boner.
With both claws, I grabbed behind his head, kissing Terramar aggressively. Our beaks clicked and clacked against each other and he started running his claws down my flanks, from under my wings down to my butt and back.
We rolled and I was on top of him, straddling him, flat on his back. I placed my palms on his chest and scratched with my claws, dragging little furrows through his feathers and fur. He grabbed my waist and we looked into each other's eyes.
"This isn't a good idea," I said.
"Terrible idea," he agreed.
"They're going to murder us," I said.
"Yeah."
I nodded. "First time?"
"No."
"Scootaloo?" I guessed.
"Apple Bloom, actually," he said with a grin. "I tried, but Scootaloo's gay."
I rubbed my hips forward and backward against him. I was still pretty dry, my excitement only beginning, so I let my clit and my lips play up-and-down his fuzzy ballsack. He sighed and closed his eyes, spine limp against the floor. He moved his claws to my lower belly, just above my snatch, and the firm, strong muscles of his touch against my fur helped turn me on.
We'd been stuck in this cell together, a cell so small we couldn't stretch our wings all the way, for weeks. It wasn't like we hadn't seen every inch of the other's body over those weeks. But... we'd been making a big deal about ignoring each other, so awkward it was to be with a first cousin of the opposite gender in such close quarters.
The let's-pretend faded away and I reached down and grabbed his cock. It was huge, long, thick, hard, heavy. He gasped and his back arched, the muscles of his crotch flexing against my snatch.
The first few drops of my excitement were burgeoning, my wetness lubricating me. I stroked both claws up and down his shaft and he grabbed my thighs and squeezed.
In the heat of that moment, instead of hating myself for taking advantage of my cousin's terror and momentary weakness, I was... excited. All I could think about was his lean, muscular body and how giant his cock was.
Staring into each other's eyes still, we both gave a tiny little nod.
I really... I really hate myself, sometimes, when I think about what happened next. But at the time... it seemed so right. Never before, in our lives spent together, had I felt anything sexual about him. But in the dirty, dank cell, I wanted him more than I've ever wanted a 'griff in my life.
Is that what the threat of impending death does to a 'griff?
I lifted up my hips and used my claws to put his cock inside me.
"Oh!" he said. "You're warm."
Lowering my hips, slowly, I took him in. Shudders ran up my spine and my wings flared, smacking the walls of our cell.
"And wet," I said. Good thing I'd convinced our captors to give us a bigger water ration, hmmm? If I'd tried this while we were still dehydrated, he would have felt like he was fucking a dried kelp chips.
He was only about half-way inside me. I pressed up with my hips again and he slid out as I rose. Terramar gasped and his eyes rolled back as the velvety-tightness of my walls dragged up along his tip, leaving a trail of my wetness along his shaft. I paused, holding still at the very top of my stroke, and then flexed my claws, pricking his skin with my talons, and dropped my weight on him.
We both gasped as his huge member filled me, my ass slapping down against his balls. Trembling, we stared into each other's eyes. Our tails wagged, slowly, twining and intertwining together. The feel of his tail against mine and the muscles of his butt flexing underneath me sent a shiver up my spine. I squeaked, in the back of my throat, a sound almost like a suppressed sneeze and not very erotic!
His cock throbbed inside me, its thickness stretching out my channel.
Biting my tongue, I thought for a moment. I hadn't had sex in over a year! No wonder I was so tight. On top of that, my "little" cousin... heh, not any more. I pushed further down with my hips, rubbing my clit against his abs and clamping my... my... my pussy around him.
His claws reached up, massaging my ribs under my wings, that most sensitive of spots on a 'griff, hitting the flight muscles, the largest muscle group on any 'griff's body and releasing weeks of stored-up tension, and I had to close my eyes as waves of pleasure radiated from his touch.
Deep inside me, I knew I shouldn't be feeling that way about Terramar's touch. Any other 'griff in, like, the world, you bet!
...but not him. Yet I felt that way anyway.
I started pistoning my hips up-and-down. I leaned forward, bending down to kiss him as I humped desperately. My snatch was wet with saved-up excitement. Four or five weeks crammed in a cell smaller than my wingspan with him had certainly put a grain of sand in my shell, so to speak, and my body wanted to make a pearl out of it.
We kissed deeply, our tongues hot and wet against each other, rubbing our beaks' hard surfaces together, nibbling each other with the razor-sharp edges. I grabbed his shoulders and felt my talons prick his skin as he grabbed harder around my hips, pricking my skin with wonderful-painful needle-like sticks, their probing discomfort mixing with the amazing fullness as I rammed myself up and down on him.
Neither of us had any endurance. We were on an unhealthy diet, we hadn't exercised in months, I got winded almost immediately and he closed his beak gently around my tongue, the taste of his mouth so... so masculine and wrong but so amazing and he stared into my eyes as my pussy started spasming, the spasm moving up into my body and down my tail and my wings flared as I came and then he came, his wings drumming against the dirty floor as he pressed my hips down and his hips up, his tip clobbering painfully into the bottom of my womb as he filled me with a load and the smell of my excitement and his seed swirled around us.
Breaking our kiss, I sat back up, still straddled over his hips.
That had been the shortest lovemaking of my life and I should have been disappointed, but somehow, I was... content.
Cum dripped around his cock, out of me, and smeared my clit and my asshole and his balls, getting into both of our tails.
He sighed and flopped bonelessly down.
"We shouldn't have done that," I said. "It'll be a while before we get another shower."
And just that quickly, whatever we had, was done. Without a word spoken, we curled up on different blankets on opposite sides of the cell and fell asleep, our backs to each other.
I missed wrapping my wing around him and comforting him, as was the older cousin's—the honorary big sister's—duty.
Silently, I cried, and imagined the conversation I would have had with Shelly and Sheldon had they been there with me.
"Skystar," Shelly would say, "you need to talk to him."
"But I fucked him!" I would cry. "He was scared and alone and depended on me to be the big 'griff and instead I fucked him!"
"You," Sheldon would say, "were just as terrified and traumatized. And let's be honest: you might not have much time left. You two might die at any time. Talk to him."
"I'm so going to get grounded," I would reply.
I woke up and just stared at the ceiling, counting the drops of condensation in the flickering light of the sconce. When a drop fell off the ceiling and hit my beak, I didn't even brush it off.
"Morning, Skystar," he said.
"Hey."
They slid a tray of food under the door. I smelled the salty fish, and my tummy was rumbly, but I didn't feel like eating.
"I lied," he said. "That was my first time. It was wrong to say I'd been with Apple Bloom. She didn't deserve that."
I burst into tears.
Eventually, I drank half the water. I knew I needed to pee a lot that day to keep from getting a post-sex infection, since the chances of getting any potion from our captors was zero.
Terramar curled up in a ball and put his back to me. Eventually, I asked if I could have his share of the water. He said yes.
I plopped down on my back and reached out a claw and touched his shoulder. He jerked... but then scooted an inch towards me.
We stayed like that the whole day, silently.
I jumped up, instantly on my hooves. My talons flexed as a hint of alarm tickled at the base of my spine. "What was that?"
Terramar got to his hooves and cocked his head, eyes closed, listening.
"There it was again," I said.
He frowned.
I heard it again, a short, sharp noise, muffled by distance. Dust puffed as air blew under the door, around the uneaten fish.
"Explosions," he said. "It's... it's a rescue."
My eyes widened and I stared at him.
"They'll try to kill us," Terramar said. "If the door opens, we fight."
The explosions got closer, louder, and more rapid.
The bar in the door rattled and the griffon—the one who liked brandishing the truncheon—burst into the cell. He swung the truncheon at Terramar's head. With a loud crack, Terramar got his arm, his barely-healed arm, up in time. He went down, gasping, his arm badly broken and bent this time, but I got the griffon from his side, surprising him from the flank, and my talons—
I can't talk about it.
We were sitting there, me cradling Terramar and his broken arm and leaving bloody claw-prints in his fur, when the Equestrian Royal Guards showed up.
"Your Highness, Princess Skystar, I presume?" said a pegasus in black armor.
I just nodded.
I knocked on the door to Terramar's room in University Hospital Canterlot. "Hey, cuz."
He opened an eye and bleared at me. "Hey."
"Can I come in?"
He nodded toward the chair next to his bed.
I walked in and sat down. "How's the arm?"
Terrmar looked at the cast. "Three pins and a plate. They tell me it hurts like I wouldn't believe, so they've got me doped off my feathers. Just feels like a dull ache."
"Are you too doped to talk?"
He shook his head. "No, I'm okay. What's up?"
"At some point," I said, "an investigator will come in and ask you some questions. Do you remember what the hippogriff guard looked like? He got away."
"There wasn't a—"
"The one who... ya know... with me? When the doctors examined me, they found semen in my tail, so they gave me some medicine, since I was fertile. Medicine to prevent me from..." I waved a claw in an awkward circle. "I think the hippogriff was big, and light colored, but the lighting was bad so I don't know exactly what he looked like."
Terramar's eyes got wide. "Yeah, tall, light colored. He must have gotten away."
I laid a claw on his shoulder. "Get well soon." I left his room.
That was the last time we ever saw each other privately. Whatever had happened, those weeks in the dungeon, the time together, the... mistake we made... our old relationship never recovered. As soon as he got the cast off, he took a position as a junior attaché at our embassy in Griffonstone, and I stayed in the Palace, taking more and more responsibilities over for Mom.
We would see each other across a ballroom at a Royal function or a diplomatic event, and we would lock eyes and nod...
...but I lost my closest friend in that damn dungeon.
Author's Note
An idea I've been sitting on for years. The contest encouraged me to write it.
