Hyperventilating for fantasy!au? Please 💗🥺
Carlos realizes too late. He’s dizzy and aching, and he can’t seem to draw enough breath into his lungs. He can’t tell if he’s hyperventilating as an effect of the poison or because of anxiety, but regardless, he’s losing the uphill battle to get oxygen into his body. His feet give out under him.
“Sir Reyes, are you feeling alright?” A smug advisor asks him, grabbing onto one of his arms. No, that’s wrong. He’s posing as a servant here, and not under his real name. They know who he is. Oh God, he has to get out of here. “Don’t worry, we’ll take care of you.”
“Unhand me,” he drawls, his mouth quickly going numb. “Stop...”
A second guard takes his other arm and they lead him away from the party. He can’t feel his legs. His head lolls back uselessly, though he keeps gasping for breath, as they drag him deeper and deeper into the palace, further than he’s been before. The cold air and dim lighting makes him think they must have gone underground.
They’re going to kill him.
He didn’t get to say goodbye to his princess, whom he would and will give his life for. He didn’t get to say goodbye to Michelle, his best friend and confidante. And worst of all, he didn’t get to say goodbye to TK, who will tend the stables every afternoon waiting for Carlos to come home.
“Should take his wings,” one guard says, brushing the sensitive tissue with a gloved hand. “They’d look pretty on a wall.”
“That’s for the king to decide,” the other says.
“Just in case, I won’t hurt them. It’d be a shame to damage the trophy.”
What are they going to do to him? Carlos’ very soul screams at the idea of being mutilated in such a way, but he’s in no state to so much as cry out. All he can do is let them shove him face first into a stone-walled cell without so much as a bed. Unable to catch himself, his face slams into the floor.
“Get comfortable, Sir Reyes. You’ll be here for a while.”
