“Mouse, can you hear me?”

The drow didn’t reply. Dazed, she swayed against the wall like a willow in the wind, as if one bump would knock her over. Reginald put a hand on the elf’s shoulder and helped her upright. Careful, he peered at her face. Silver eyes stared into the middle distance, unfocused. Her arms hung limply at her sides. He nudged for her to start walking. Unhesitatingly, she obeyed.

Reginald’s lips quirked upward. The drug had taken effect.

No one noticed Reginald lead Mouse away from the dance floor. A firm hand on Mouse’s back, he guided her toward the bedrooms. He watched her as they walked, enjoying the view. A bit on the skinny side, and not particularly curvy, but that face, that long white hair, that dusky gray skin. A licentious grin spread over his face, and he sped up.

Mouse’s skirt caught under her foot, and Mouse stumbled. She staggered into the wall. For a few steps, she staggered on against the wall, but then she drew to a halt. Frustrated, Reginald pulled her off the wall and forced himself to walk at a slow, even pace.

His room came up at last. Unwilling to wait any longer, Reginald urged her onward. She followed his nudges, all the way to sit on the plush bed, slightly slumped, head tipped down. He threaded his hands through her hair, feeling the silkiness. Heat simmered on Reginald’s cheek from the alcohol and surged in his blood. His hands wandered over the softness of Mouse’s cheek, down her neck, slipping the collar of her dress open a bit to feel her shoulders. The high neckline allowed him no further entrance.

As if entranced by her beauty, he paused there, staring at the unfocused eyes, the delicate lines of her face, her slightly-pouted lips. His breathing sped a bit, trembling in his excitement. He retracted his hands to his belt, only to find out that the alcohol had turned his buckle into a three-dimensional puzzle, where each move seemed to negate the last. Fumbling with the buckle, he muttered, “Just wait a little longer, darling…”

Eyes downcast to figure out the mystery of the belt, he missed his ‘darling’ straightening upright. Fierce light flashed in Mouse’s eyes, cold as the glint of a sword. His fingers dug into the bed, and he kicked Reginald between the legs with all his might.

Reginald crumpled with a soft grunt. Before the man hit the ground, Mouse grabbed him by the collar, lifted him up, and slammed him backwards into the ground. His head hit wood with a hollow sound, and his eyes rolled up. Reginald flopped to the floor, unconscious.

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Panting, Mouse stood there for a moment, fists still balled in Reginald’s collar, desperately fighting the urge to end this miserable man’s life. His arms shook, knuckles white, teeth clenched. If I had been my sister… if my sister had been here, instead…

The door slammed open. Startled, Mouse dropped Reginald and reached up his skirt for his shortsword in the same motion. He whirled to face the door, ready to strike.

The unicorn the Emperor had ridden this morning stood in the doorway, hooves planted wide, head tossed back, imperious blue eyes gazing down on everything. It brandished its horn and rushed inside.

Two steps in, it caught sight of Mouse dead ahead, the unconscious Reginald on the floor a few feet to his side. It dug in its feet and tried to stop. Hooves left massive scratches in the wood floor as the horse slid toward Mouse horn-first. Wide eyes rolled in the unicorn’s head. Mouse darted back and jumped onto the bed, out of its way.

Seconds before disaster, the unicorn steered itself to the side and avoided Mouse. Snorting and shaking its head, it high-stepped in a short circle, casting side-eyed glances at Mouse the whole time.

Mouse eyed the mass of white horseflesh. Aloud, he wondered, “Who let the unicorn in the palace?”

“I did,” a man said.

Mouse scanned the room, but he was alone, save out-cold Reginald. He jogged to the door and peered into the hallway, but likewise, it was empty. Closing the door behind him, he looked around the room. “Hello?”

“I came rushing in here gallantly to save you, but you’d already saved yourself! Now what am I supposed to do?” the man asked. The unicorn turned another tight circle and huffed, tossing its head.

Mouse picked up Reginald and gave him a little shake. No response. Confused, he ran to the wardrobe and peered inside, peeked under the bed, even went to the window and peered outside. Empty, empty, empty. He was alone.

“I’m right here.” The unicorn pressed its nose on Mouse’s back.

Mouse spun and nearly impaled himself. He ducked away at the last second, and the unicorn staggered back at the same beat. They stared at each other for a moment, and then the unicorn sighed.

“Alright, alright, I’ll take my bipedal form…”

Bright white light lit the room. Mouse closed his eyes, uselessly. Light seared through his eyelids. He flinched back, arms raised, and finally found some relief. How bright is that light? Even his Majesty’s magic can't dull it!

After what seemed a small eternity, the light faded. Slowly, Mouse's vision returned. He rubbed his eyes and blinked the spots away, desperate to make sense of the white blob in front of him.

As his vision cleared, the blob resolved into the shape of a pale-skinned young man. Thick white lashes and big, round eyes as crystal-clear blue as a deep spring offset a slightly long face. Shaved on the sides, his white hair curled playfully on top of his head, thick and voluminous. He wore all white in the style of commoners, simple, clean clothes. Broad-shouldered and athletic, he moved with the easy grace of a long-distance runner. In the center of his forehead, a white diamond-shaped marking replaced his horn.

“Hello again, princess,” the man greeted Mouse. A playful light in his eyes, he added, “or should I say… prince?”