FSE

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He was fully attired and pampered when he came to his senses.

The three short old ladies, who prepared the prince for the evening's gala, moved at dizzying speeds. The act of getting dressed had never tired the liege so much, and exhaustion made him grumpy.

"Enough!" The bellow of the young lion forced the servants to recoil. "I want a mirror, now!"

The scared women scattered around the room, giving the crown prince space while preparing the tall mirror for him.

After setting it up, the youth walked to it, eager to scan himself.

A golden headdress stood on his head, the ultimate sign of his power. His hair, as gleaming as the diadem, he fashioned into long strands, same with his mane, which, while he did not like it, many men in the kingdom did as submission to the King.

The young lion wore a light blue cape with small shining stars, a motif of his late mother. Underneath, he lifted it to expose a complicated tunic of the same color, with intricate embroidery that only the upper classes could buy. The prince had a powerful physique but appeared frail, which he enjoyed.

Further downwards, came his vertically striped blue breeches over tight white hoses. His legs flowed into a pair of dark, heeled clogs imported from a country far into the east.

He kept looking at his reflection, loving every detail the tailor had added to his outfit. As he observed himself, his mouth formed a satisfied smile, but when he locked eyes with himself, that grin dissolved into a frown. The celebration that night brought delight to many, but not to the prince.

The young lion did not have time to consider what went through his head lest he make the elderly ladies suspicious. He gulped down all those emotions and braced himself for the party with a heavy exhale and a grunt.

When he entered the vast ballroom the early festivities had already begun. Most of the visitors who had arrived at that point lingered in their individual spaces, engrossed in the most trivial of chitchat. The young man walked the large room to his family's table, saying a monotone "good evening" to guests despite how boring and annoying he found their behavior.

Once there, he met a grizzled lion clothed in crimson robes with even more elaborate ornaments than his own; his father, the King, as impatient as ever.

"You are late yet again, Walbert," grumbled the elder royal. "The more I expect from my firstborn, the more he fails me."

"Good evening, Father," the prince said in a tone filled with sarcasm as he took his seat beside the monarch.

After a huff, the other lion beside him spoke. "Be mindful of your tone when speaking to Father, Brother."

Walbert only cared to spare the middle sibling a glance. The untidy way he dressed explained how he had arrived on time, a departure from his usual behavior.

The eldest prince did not hesitate at striking back with a remark of his own. "Well, Fabius, I spent my afternoon preparing myself for this special night. Not, playing around with some tramp."

The middle brother's fist met the table with force. "How dare you!"

"Enough, both of you!" The only woman present, the youngest, interjected. "Must you two feed the gossip around our family further?"

Both lions reluctantly resumed their calm demeanor. The three men did not agree on every topic, but they all cared deeply about the princess.

"Forgive me, Sister," said Fabius. "I won't let this viper's venom sour my mood any further."

Walbert desired but declined the opportunity to retaliate.

She groaned and shook her head. "Why must it be this way?" She rose out a gentle hand to her elder brother. "Brother, are you certain you are well?"

He gazed at his sister's gesture and wanted to remain cross-armed; but a deep feeling forced his palm to reach out for hers and gently caress her delicate dorsal.

"I am fine, Muriel," he said with a smile.

The princess tried, but could not believe her brother's reply. Yet, she resigned herself to accept his words. "Very well..."

Sharp sounds of horns interrupted the family's time together. All attendees set their sights on the marble staircase that led to the ballroom. There, a short stoat herald faced the crowd.

He cleared his throat before shouting. "Ladies and Gentlemen, it is my honor to announce the arrival of the most excellent Duke and Duchess of Grandlyon and their daughter Lady Wanessa."

With the sound of thunderous applause, entered first the couple, a pair of lions as grizzled as the prince's father, in dark blue formal clothes. Behind them, their child followed.

A beautiful lioness of golden fur and sapphire eyes, dressed in an extravagant pink dress that sparkled with its precious stones. The mere sight of her took men's breath away.

The esteemed family of guests walked through the halls in a sea of murmurs; the royals mirrored them, so they would meet at the center of the large room.

Fabius nudged his brother before whispering. "Look at her! Gods, aren't you a lucky man?"

Walbert ignored the comment since he did not consider himself lucky. In fact, he dreaded that moment all week. Anxiety filled his thoughts, but her beauty did not cause it.

He scanned her as he had himself as they met. She drew the attention and breath of every young adult in the vicinity, from the broad dress to her azure eyes to the complex mix of hairstyle and ornaments on her head; but the crown prince remained unattracted.

The lion buried and repressed his desires as much as he could. The era in which he lived simply did not tolerate such deviancy. Being a royal, a firstborn, he had to provide an heir for his family and country. Whatever he felt came second to his role in life.

He forced his feelings down and performed the usual routine, clearing his throat. Walbert spoke before all, as he bowed to the guests. "Venerable Duke, fairest Duchess, I bid you both a welcome to our abode."

In response, the older man nodded, and the woman curtsied in tandem.

Then, he turned to the princess, holding her gloved hand while on one knee. "And to you, most gorgeous Lady Wanessa," he delivered a kiss on her dorsal, "a warmer welcome still."

The lady's answer came as a soft giggle. "Oh, my Liege, you honor me."

As the rest of both families welcomed each other, he stood to meet her gaze. While he saw the delicate face of a cheerful young woman, she got only aloofness, an icy glare that conveyed more than what he could express; and she understood the façade.

Before either shared words, the herald blew his horn once more. Another set of important guests had arrived, and all eyes moved to the stairs again.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, I announce now the arrival of," the stoat cleared his throat, "The Great Khan of the Endless Plains and his retainers!"

A naked paw landed on the stairwell. The crowd gasped as the towering figure of a tall, muscular hyena came forth. With each step, another brawny one followed until four men entered the ballroom.

If their size and strength did not stand out enough, what they wore bore no resemblance to any of the other attendees' attires. Leather, metal plates, and a variety of sashes adorned their bodies, but still left much of their physique exposed to the eyes of the nobility.

They needed no introduction. Not two years before that celebration, the term Khan had corresponded to the enemy, but dialogue and cooperation had transformed the lions' eastern neighbors into powerful allies.

Even though their new status as supporters had spread widely among the subjects of the kingdom, a cloud of prejudice still hung over the people of the Khanate. During most encounters, the hyenas proved to be stronger adversaries. When the lions prevailed, they did so via cunning rather than raw power. That history cemented them as stupid brutes in the mind of the typical lion.

To most, including the royals, their behavior in such an event justified that intolerance. All stared at the new guests with contempt for their customs and outright disgust for their kind; all, except Walbert.

Unsurprisingly, when their scant clothing swayed and clanked, the royal observed their virility with shame and excitement. He'd never seen manliness in such a form before, having only reached adulthood after the war had ended. In the presence of the powerful hyenas, even the Captain of the Guard, a strong and masculine man by the standards of the kingdom, shrank.

The new arrivals, jolly in ignorance of the reason they drew so much attention, walked towards the gathered monarchs. Once the King realized that, he grunted before talking to his sons.

"Children," his frigid voice boomed, "take the Duchess and Lady Wanessa to their table, please. We shall give our guests a proper greeting."

The firstborn did not want to hear it. Lust or not, he wanted to see these unusual visitors; and, as the next in line for the throne, he had a bargaining chance.

"But-"

"Listen to your Father, my Liege," interrupted the Duke. "There's much you do not yet understand. Go and make my wife and daughter company."

Walbert had never seen the older man talk so solemnly. He only realized the gravity of the issue at that point. So he swallowed and submitted himself to his role.

With a brief bow, he led the three lionesses and his brother away from the center of the ballroom. He only looked back once, praying that he could, at least, glance at the men.

The night went on as many other similar events. Endlessly reciting the same script to every sweet-talking aristocracy, pretending to be interested in their unwelcome opinions and dabbling in the most insignificant of politics. Mingling with nobility did not please the crown prince, but it provided a welcome distraction from the feelings that evening brought.

At some point, dazed by the constant dialogue he had done, the liege saw himself away from the ballroom. Tall glass doors led to a beautiful balcony overlooking the wall-bound capital. As usual, no guards held position there; the royal would find unmatched privacy.

He took a deep breath when he stepped outside; another step, and the night sky soaked him in indigo. When he arrived at the grandiose guardrails, he drew his gaze from the darkened streets of his home to the enormous ocean reflecting the dark blue sky, to the silver light of the moon, and, finally, to the boundless sea of stars.

The breeze blew over his mane, and for a heartbeat, he was not the crown prince; he had no traditions to follow or appearances to uphold. Walbert dove into a pool of imaginary freedom.

Unfortunately, it could not last.

Rusty doors clanged and clattered, its noise drawing the liege's attention. From the illuminated hall, into the deep night, came the daughter of the Duke. She shot a grin so powerful he could see it clearly, even in the meek pale light.

"I am not interrupting anything, am I?" Said the lioness approaching Walbert with gingerly steps.

"Ah, Lady Wanessa," responded the stunned lion. "No, not at all. I only needed a break from the party's commotion."

"Oh? May I join Your Highness, then? I find crowds tiring as well."

She joined the prince in admiring the night with a brief bow. And they stood there in silence, the same blueness, the same sea of stars, the same breeze. The presence of the lady presented the royal with a dose of reality.

The lioness served as a constant reminder of his responsibilities. He could not help but sigh occasionally. And, whether he intended it, Wanessa took notice.

"Prince Walbert," she broke the silence.

The lion laced his reaction with discomfort as the suddenness of her sweet, timid voice staggered him. "Yes, Milady?"

"May I ask Your Highness... No, Walbert, can I ask for your sincere opinion?"

To be treated with such informality by someone other than his family sent shivers down the lion's spine and made his fur rise. He resisted those vexations as he would have eventually to grow used to such a behavior from her.

"Well," he responded, "yes of course... Wanessa."

"What... What do you think of," she fiddled with her fingers, "us?"

"Us?"

"I mean, about the announcement tonight?"

Those words jolted the prince back into the reality he had hoped to flee. Whatever he thought, the lady did not deserve to be caught in that mess. So, he replied with grace.

He grabbed her hand, caressing the textile that covered it. "It will be an honor to be with you, Lady Wanessa," he said, looking right into her eyes.

The gesture did not elicit a smile or any clear reaction. Instead, she pulled her arm from the lion's gentle grasp, leaving behind a confused liege.

"No," she muttered. "You don't mean that."

Walbert only gulped in response.

"That's only a mask," she continued, "I know it, because I wear one as well." She turned to the deep night. "I believe every noble does."

His breath grew heavier as she made him wordless once again.

"So, I must ask once more." She diverted her gaze back to the prince. "What do you think about our betrothal?"

Someone finally uttered that word; a boulder crashing through the walls he had built. He lacked the strength to escape it, he simply let the emotions engulf him.

His delayed response came out stuttering, "I..."

"I know you bear no ill feelings about me," the lady continued, drawing circles in the stone ledge with her finger. "If I may be open, I actually have a hunch on why this marriage bothers you."

"You do?"

"Yes." The lioness fiddled with her fingers and avoided eyeing the crown prince directly. "Walbert, I beg once more for sincerity, are you... attracted to women?"

Silence; shock-filled silence. He had no words to spare as his brain raced with a thousand thoughts. At some point, he began shaking and went from merely holding the balcony's counter to grasping it for support.

She saw that whole reaction and replied with a melancholic tone. "I was right." The lady could not stay there; a flood of feelings flooded her eyes. "Excuse me... Your Highness," she said, running back to the illuminated ballroom.

Seeing her tearful face and hearing her meek voice awakened a deep weight of guilt inside the lion; enough to break the paralysis what she asked caused.

"Milady, wait!" The royal said, extending his arm to reach her. But the chance had passed, he found himself alone once more.

The prince stood there supporting himself on the balcony's cold stone counter. Palms on his eyes prevented the flood of tears as Walbert cursed his very existence in pained mumbles and angry grunts. The cape he bore so much pride in, fell on the ground without him noticing.

Suddenly, a noise cut the lion's gloom short. Behind him, the door connecting the ballroom to the balcony clanked open and closed. He moved his weary eyes towards the sound; and what he saw more than surprised him.

Instead of the tiny, feminine and gentle figure of his future wife, the complete opposite appeared. Tall, brawny, each of the man's steps confirmed his weight. The smell snuffed any remaining doubts, one hyena had joined the liege.

He had already spotted the large hyena dressed oddly, but now he investigated the foreign visitor. His head was adorned with a wild ginger mohawk, and a pair of little golden earrings garnished his right ear. A metallic gorget on his neck connected to sharp pauldrons, scratches and strange symbols embellished both pieces. He wore no armor on his chest, but red sashes crossed his pectorals. A thick belt composed of leather and metal wrapped around his waist and many leathery straps dangled from it, covering a long scarlet loincloth. The prince noticed bandages, discolored with use, on his wrists and ankles.

Overall, if the liege could spare a single word to describe the man approaching him it would be "wild." Evidently, his people had a different idea of what formal wear was, which, in a normal setting, would irk the royal, but either shock or sadness hindered that part of him.

Walbert spoke up first. "Can I help you?"

The hyena stopped about a few steps before the liege. "Oh, just explorin', nuthin much."

Like his unusual attire, the informality of his words would vex the prince, but that his guest had a grasp at their language astonished him.

"I see," said the royal after a noticeable pause. "Well, do not let me stop you."

The foreign man grumbled what the youth considered a confirmation. He then joined the lion at the balcony's ledge, supporting his heavy body on the stone counter.

That scent arose again, and being so close to its source, Walbert did not hold back a reaction; but, the shape his reflex took surprised even himself. The complete opposite from any perfume or cologne, the brutish hyena smelled of dirt and sweat, of rough training and endless strife, of power and virility, of shimmering sudor covering a well-toned body of a real man. If his obscene thoughts prompted him to doubt his feelings, the increased pressure in his groin confirmed it. By simply standing there, that hyena aroused the crown prince.

Walbert, humiliated, resorted to contemplating the night that had once provided him with so much solace. He stood silently watching the town, the indigo sky, and the stars, but it differed from before. What transpired minutes before transformed the peace that blueness gave into melancholy.

He could not control his mouth anymore. "Why must things be like this?" Formal education trained the crown prince to be stoic at all times, so realizing what he had blurted out, he turned to the hyena in desperation. "Oh, I'm sorry. Don't mind me."

The foreign guest shook his head in confusion. "Oh? Uh, No problem, mate."

Such casualness called the youth to dig deeper; that and the tightening in his breeches.

"So," Walbert said, unsure of what to say even after his mouth first opened, "enjoying the party?"

The hyena snorted with a smirk. "Dis ain't no party. Your people are too stiff."

Upon recognising the irony in the word "stiff" Walbert chuckled at the situation between his legs.

"I suppose they are," replied the lion. "How... are parties in Endless Plains?"

"Ha!" The hyena turned to the royal with a shining grin. "Yer wouldn't believe it! We-" He stopped his words, remembering the Khan's order to respect the hosts and their culture. "Never mind, yer ain't interested."

"Nonsense! I want to hear it!" The prince had reflexively grabbed the visitor's beefy forearm in his brazen reaction. Both caught sight of the scenario before the lion withdrew his hands in embarrassment. "If-If you don't mind that is..."

The muscular man did not hold back laughter. "Haha! Aight, I'll tell ya."

For the next few minutes, they traded anecdotes and ideas on their own homelands. While Walbert told of high-ranking nobility embarrassing themselves in front of the royal family, the hyena described night-long, drunken celebrations around pyres.

Humorous stories casually turned into personal tales. The youth spoke about his mother, father, and siblings, as well as the weight of his obligations and the upcoming engagement. To the lion's surprise, he had chatted with royalty the entire time; that man, Turgen, was the Great Khan's firstborn son.

The crown prince came to a realization as they bonded over their similar role in their societies. For that whole talk, he put up no fronts, told no lies, and accepted the foreign man's unique point of view; not even his carnal attraction hindered him. Walbert and Turgen shared a genuine conversation, the sort the lion had never with anyone.

After a particularly hearty laughter, the prince let his face relax, when he did, his eyes locked with the hyena as a real smile formed on his muzzle.

"Yer alright, Walbert?"

Self-consciousness made the youth shake his head. "Sorry, sorry. I'm fine."

They returned to silence; the party, and all of its issues, were far away. But all that had to end.

The royal spent hours at the balcony by that point, eventually, he would have to return inside and fulfill his duties. The future still scared him, but he would at least find solace in moments like that.

The lion cleared his throat. "Well, this was fun. But, if you excu-"

"Walbert, could ya tell me one thing?"

The crown prince jerked into a stop from being interrupted so suddenly. "Sure?"

Turgen bore a solemn expression when he turned to the liege. "Yer really frustrated, ain't ya?"

He gazed towards the cold stone ground, unsure of what or how to respond. "I-I suppose," he exhaled after a gulp.

His own response surprised him, as the situation definitely demanded a vapid answer. He had somewhere to be, he barely knew the man, and he had to keep up appearances; yet, he could not really bring himself to put on a mask, not for Turgen.

The prince became so engaged in his own thoughts that he missed what happened next. The towering son of the Khan wrapped the lion in his muscles in an instant before pressing the liege's meeker body against the stone ledge.

Walbert only took notice of his position once the hyena started petting the top of his head, and when he did all sensations joined into a single yelp.

Tight, warm, musky, and comforting, the nature of that embrace surpassed even what the prince's lewd mind conjured.

"What are you doing!" Said the flustered lion while struggling to free himself.

"Shh," the hyena shot back, "quiet."

"What! Unhand me, now!"

"Nah. You need this."

"You know not what I need!" He lowered his head into those meaty arms. "No one does..."

Turgen huffed. "I do! You'd see that if you shut yer trap!"

The royal's eyes returned to the hyena's face, but he saw no signs of deviancy or trickery there. Just a serious expression; he meant what he had said. So earnest he found that visage, the liege simply could not counter it; instead, he obeyed and lingered in silence.

"Good," whispered the Khan's son as his hand came back to stroking the lion's soft mane.

Calmer, Walbert planned to open his mouth and challenge the hyena's motives. But, those earlier words, that exclamation brimming with dominance but tinged with tenderness, made him question why he resisted in the first place.

Looking up at the stars, he enjoyed the sensation of being ordered. The royal melted into his muscular prison, and when he did, he let out a long sigh as he finally relaxed. And that did not go unnoticed.

"See?" Said Turgen. "Ya jus' needed a breather."

Walbert spoke up with a docile tone. "I believe this is more than 'a breather,' mate."

Through his snout, the hyena snickered. "This is nuthin. S'what we do back home."

"Really? Even among men?"

"Why'd that matter?"

The prince had no vocal response, but Turgen's statement prompted him to think. Nothing really erotic occurred; simply a friend consoling another during a trying time.

Friend... Walbert never gave somebody such a title. His life, as the next in line for the throne, beat such ideas out of him. He bore a deep envy towards Fabius' friendly demeanor, or perhaps just the freedom his brother boasted.

Due to all that, the crown prince knew little of intimacy. And it all culminated when he realized his position. Friend or not, Turgen's looks tempered the youth, exuded an arousing odor, displayed genuine care for the liege, and held the lion close to his exposed body.

Walbert blushed and soon became unable to control his breathing properly. A flood of sweat, a shiver up his spine, and that constriction between his legs built up to make him light-headed.

"Yer aight, Walbert?"

The prince trembled at the deep voice. "Yes... I'm quite fine..."

Turgen's nose approached the liege's left cheek without warning, its dampness surprising before perplexing him. The lion could not react in time, because the hyena drew a large amount of air through his nostrils and... delicately blew it into his face.

Confusion developed into a mixture of emotions. The initial shock gave a pleasing surprise, the suspense created interest and tension, and the shockingly gentle release tickled and jolted him into passion. Excitement made it difficult to think clearly, but the prince knew one thing for certain: the entire situation aroused him.

A contained squeal escaped Walbert's mouth, making a fragment of his complex feelings known to his new friend.

Turgen released a low snicker before whispering directly into the lion's ear. "I knew it. Dis is what's gotcha like this all night."

"I-I can explain."

"And I dun need yer explanations." He drew even closer, his words coming out as wet air into the prince's ears. "Yer bloody restrained."

"R-Restrained?"

"Yep. Dis life ye live is fake, mate." As the hyena kept talking, his limbs went from clutching the lion to stroking the feline's smaller body. "Every day of your life is full of lies and tricks, I can tell. Yer tired, ain'tcha? "

When his ears caught those words, such intimacy grew hot and overpowering. To be understood so easily, so tenderly; a need previously unknown to Walbert became satisfied. So his thoughts dissolved into euphoria, and he did not even consider fighting back.

"Yes... I'm tired of this hogwash..."

"Ye, Walbert. Feels bad dunnit?"

"Yes..."

"Ye want to feel good, don'tcha?"

"I," the prince gulped. "I do."

"Good. Then, allow me."

Before the liege delivered a drowsy response, a couple of fingers grabbed his chin and jerked his head back.

An overwhelming presence forced itself upon his virgin lips. The hyena's darkened maw touched the prince's very own. A tongue pressed against the entrance pried the feline's snout open and took over the maw's insides.

Though astonished, Walbert did not resist or protest. The tempest of emotions that had led his brain until that point, had tired him too much for him to pretend--to Turgen or himself--that he did not want that.

And so, the lion prince let his companion possess him. At first, he tried to dance along the muscle, but it quickly became apparent the foreigner had more experience and power. For that kiss, by being merely a plaything of the hyena's desire, he gained pleasure himself.

When Turgen pulled out, filled with satisfaction, and his eyes met a feline corrupted by emotion and drunk on own his taste.

"Ye like that, kitten?"

Kitten... The word befitted the royal in that state. He could only reply with a daft smile.

The hyena growled in response. "Then how about we go... further?"

Turgen pushed the prince's limp body against the guardrail prompting the feline to suppress a moan. The thought process engrossed the excited royal so much that he did not notice his companion fiddling with his codpiece and the liege's breeches.

He found himself stripped of his pantaloons, the white hoses the only thing between him and the frigid night. And then, a powerful force pressed against his almost-bare behind; the long "object" exuded a strange warmth.

It took little effort to figure out what squeezed against his rear, and he would not dare to resist it. Consumed by his own lust, he did not know that evening would bring him to that position, but he thanked the heavens for the pleasure he would soon receive.

The moment the hyena noted he did not need to force the royal, he put his hand on either side of the lion's body and grasped the counter with might. Turgen had a better resistance to his impulses, but having someone surrender themselves to his wild desire unprompted, destroyed most of his restraint.

And so it began. Skipping the possibility of penetration, the hyena rubbed his erection between the youth's clothed cheeks with pelvic thrusts. He started slowly, Walbert had never been with anyone else before, after all.

The prince felt that heat rub against his hoses and nearly lost balance. Even at a slow tempo, his other senses contributed to the experience to the point his limbs trembled.

Turgen picked up the pace, and that time each pounding caused a confined moan to escape the feline's mouth. With that, the last of the royal's resistance vanished, as the larger man grew sweatier and muskier, and hot huffs hit the back of his neck, it became increasingly harder to hold back.

With a snicker hidden between puffs, the hyena spoke. "Ye like dat, dontcha, kitten?"

That word again. Truly, no doubts remained; the feline received those lunges so willingly he no longer deserved the title of "mighty lion." Kitten suited the submissive man better.

"I-I do," said Walbert between his groans.

"Of course you do," said the hyena as he sped up. "Dis is a much better place for ya, ain't it?"

"Eh!"

"Ye don't like all dat prince shit, right? Den, yer better suited fer this role." He accelerated once again, reaching his top speed. "Moanin' while a real man dominates ya."

A real man. Even beyond the haze of lust, he bore no doubts he preferred getting his hind, his ass used that way over any princely perk. How emasculating, how embarrassing. And yet, those very emotions made the situation more arousing.

Unable to suppress it, he spoke between cries of pleasure. "Yes! This is my place."

"Dat's right!"

Did not take long for that pace to become unbearable for both. The feline's constricted penis wetted his undergarments and hoses with excitement. And, while the other man's manhood wobbled free from clothing, the touch of that hind's warmth and softness massaged the meat rod into climax.

The prince came first, with a yelp, and a single shot could not release all the pleasure he had pent up. His semen flowed in three sloppy blasts, followed by many feeble spurts, possibly because of the constraint imposed by the garments. Even throughout his own "experiments," he had never released quite like that.

Not too long after, Turgen let all his weight down and grabbed the lion with power, a snarl and he joined his partner in bliss. The hyena's burst came as a single, powerful stream of seed flying in the chilly night. Despite being only one, the shot lasted much longer and traveled farther than Walbert could.

Both men, sweaty, huffing, and satisfied, fell to the cold ground. The hyena still gripped the counter's edge and so dropped on his knee, but the liege had no power to do the same.

Mighty huffs snuffed the sound of the breeze as they recovered their senses. Free from all that pent up energy, they thought about what had just happened; and they regretted it.

They realized it at the same time which cut their afterglow short; bitter silence dominating. Both adjusted their garments and rose to their feet. Walbert's legs, still shaken by the action, struggled to keep him up, but, grasping the ledge, he acted his best not to worry the guest.

As both men limped to compose their appearance, quietness lingered again. Strangely, even though they had shared the peak of intimacy, neither--far too aware of reality--knew what to say.

Coughs. Malformed words. Hums. Anything left their mouths but a coherent sentence.

Looking at the lit ballroom beyond the tall glass doors, Walbert took notice of an unusual shifting among the attendees.

"Ah," said the lion. "I must return! It is almost time for the announcement."

"Erm, ye. Yes, of course!"

"Now," the crown prince walked towards the gates, "if you will excuse me."

"Wait!"

The hyena grabbed the feline's arm, but the youth did not dare look back. And he did not need to, as suddenly enormous hands wrapped around him.

Afraid of another delay, he shivered, but the son of the Khan simply put the prince's cape in its place.

"Dis, uh, will hide the mess," said the foreigner. "Sorry 'bout dat."

The hyena was right on two fronts: the prince overlooked his drenched back, but also he forgot part of the clothing he took so much pride in earlier that evening.

"Yes," he replied. "Thank you... Turgen."

For a reason he could not quite place, he did not spare even a last glance at the larger man. Instead, he beelined to the doors.

He possessed no capacity to process anything after that. Fragments of voices, being dragged and shifted from side to side, he did not know what had happened. The circumstances irreversibly knocked the world--his world--out of place.

Walbert regained his senses enough to hear a familiar, thundering tone. Sentences reached his ears as mumbles, but he found himself back at the table with his family, but another set of people had followed them.

Finally, it became obvious where he was. The daze cleared just in time for him to catch the last words of the King's speech.

"-to announce the engagement of my firstborn, Prince Walbert, and the fairest Lady Wanessa!"

The crowd erupted in applause and cheer, even his family joined in the ovation. Looking to his right, the woman put a forced smile while making a curtsey.

His mouth opened, only for two words to flee: "Oh, fuck."