015: The Things of Which We Do Not Speak

[Primus]

I can still taste her on my tongue. My beautiful, powerful, willful mate. She is so clever, far more clever than anyone ever gives her credit for.

They found me, the guards, shortly after I left her alone in that room. The lost look on her face will haunt me in my rest tonight. Not that it matters. At least the memory of her will provide me with a small comfort--dreams have become impossible since they began their nightly torture routine to keep me docile and compliant.

Every night, when the time comes, I burrow my heart and mind deep inside myself, watching from a distance as my body moves and speaks against my will, acting in the way it has been programmed to act, performing the necessary tasks demanded of it.

Some of these tasks I wish were less necessary. Some of these tasks I wish I could forget.

“The Queen needs you in her chambers, My Prince,” the guard demands in a way that sounds like a request--all soft and kind but with a hard cold edge. I know not to fight