The Tragic and the Pure - DreamNotFound

Chapter 8

"It did... but..." His mouth went dry. The whole world was spinning around him, and he needed a moment to calm down. "I can't just leave you here, and— and now everything is..."

He clutched his head with a groan.

"There's just one more thing." Drista lacked sympathy to his inner torment. "You can't tell my brother I'm alive."

"What?" George stared blearily at her. "He grieved you for years, why wouldn't you want him to know?" He almost said know you're okay, but she certainly wasn't 'okay'.

"He'll act too rashly. I know him, once he finds out I'm alive that's all he'll focus on. The idiot will make a reckless mistake and ruin everything." 

The intensity of her gaze burned him, and he wondered just how much she'd heard from down here. Did she know they hated each other now? That he couldn't pass on the message even if he wanted to? 

"You don't have to worry about that." He croaked out. "I won't say anything."

"Thank you. You know you're really wrong about—" She broke off, head snapping up abruptly. Her nostrils flared, emerald widening in horror. "George, you need to go. Now."

"What? Where do I go?" George jolted to life, glancing around wildly. He saw nothing to trigger her sudden reaction.

"Go, run! Now!" She hissed.

The alarm in her voice was enough to send him scattering. He ran to the nearest door, diving inside and shutting it firmly behind him. In hindsight, he should've hid in the storage room he'd emerged from, but if she was right he'd need to sneak out a different way.

His heart hammered in his ears, scanning the room he'd locked himself in. Vials of every shape and size littered the surface of a massive table, the counters covered in assortments of herbs and liquids. 

He ducked behind a group of barrels, ordering himself to breathe slower. Judging by the smell, these barrels contained more plants. He wondered if these were the drugs Drista mentioned, and if—

"Well, would you look here. I found the rat."

A hand seized the back of his collar. Air ripped from his throat, shirt tightening unbearably on his neck. George flailed, swung to face a dragon he'd normally go to for protection.

Sam's skin glittered with scales, his lips drawn back in a fanged grin. There was no formal air of safety around him anymore, dripping with cruelty. "Hello there, your highness. You've certainly gotten yourself into quite the predicament."

"Put him in an isolated cell." Another voice chimed in from the doorway. "I don't want to make a mess of our laboratories."

Father....

George tried to catch sight of the king, but the lack of air was slowly flooding his head with shadowy nothingness.

Cold seeped through his flesh into his bones. Heavy weight pressed on his wrists, and his shoulders ached from his suspended arms. George groaned to wakefulness, faintly becoming aware of Sam's voice announcing his awakening.

Blinking in the gloom, he stared at two figures towering above him. He sat on a grimy floor, his wrists pinned to the wall above his head with thick chains.

"Fa... father...?" His throat felt dry and scratchy, the words coming out grated.

He gazed into eyes he'd reached for a hundred times over, having sought comfort and reassurance. Now, he searched those eyes devoid of emotion and found nothing but blue chips of ice.