Castor put his arms underneath Anneli, carrying him as he stood up. He stepped to the bed with Anneli in his arms and pushed the sword onto the ground. Castor placed Anneli on the bed and climbed onto the old bed. It creaked and the mattress was so thin the bed frame could be felt through it. Anneli looked at Castor on top of him, not sure what to do or to say. His heat thumped in his chest and echoed in his ears. Shadows obscured Castor’s features, Anneli felt anxious at not being able to see Castor’s eyes. Castor grabbed the fabric of Anneli’s cape.
“What are you doing Castor?”
Castor chuckled. Anneli could hear the painful surrender in Castor’s voice as a part of him stopped caring about the world he lived in.
“I don’t know,” whined Castor, burying his face in Anneli’s chest. There was a sudden bang at the door. Castor and Anneli stared at the door for a moment.
“Is that Helen?” whispered Anneli.
“I don’t -”
BANG! The rickety door was broken open and Pyropolis soldiers flooded in. Castor dived for his knife but was rammed by a soldier and thrown onto the floor.
“It would be best if you come quietly Prince Castor,” said the soldier holding the bladed end of a spear to Castor’s throat. Castor looked at Anneli who had already been caught. Castor allowed his hands to be tied, his face covered and dragged to god knows where. When the bag was removed from his head Castor found himself in the dark, leaky dungeon cell underneath the royal palace. In the small cramped cell was Helen, Anneli and himself.
“What in the world happened?!” cried Castor, tugging at his bound limbs.
Helen glared at him, “Pollux happened.”