Sometime in their youth...

----

There's a soft rustle in the dungeons. Wind enters in through a crack in the wall, causing some of the moss to shudder as it whistles and howls. Water drips from the ceiling at a slow, methodical pace. Still water surrounds the center of the room, resting quietly in an unnatural groove cut out through years of decay and old war machines. It looks partially deliberate, though, as if part of it were some part of an old trophy room. Broken bits of glass along with bent and dilapidated gold hinges from worn down display cases add to that theory. Anything of value beyond that has been plucked dry, but at least it still has the gilded tiles beneath the few feet of eerily clear and undisturbed water flecked with bacteria and other dangers.

The gap is small enough to skip over, enough to make a foal have to jump, but not enough to endanger them if they feel too lazy to. Abel finds himself feeling the latter today, stretching his legs wide to overcome the gap of stinking water to make his way into the center of the room, right onto the scrubbed-dry tile. Jay's voice echoes as he laughs, trotting around in the small breaks of sunlight that creep in from the ceiling between the roots of the trees above.

“Come on, Abel! Yer so slow! Hurry up and get over here, I'm STARVING!”

Abel takes in the sight of the room around him, ear flicking to the side as dust is disturbed by a small creature and trickles down the wall. His chest feels tighter, but not in a nervous way. The beauty of what must have been captivates him, gripping him tight like an osprey's claw around a mouse's throat. He feels so small here; it feels as humbling as the DeAngelos' main foyer. Must've been a lot to carve this part out of rock. How many hooves bled for this? His other ear twitches, and he swears he can hear the bustling of voices, hooves, and taste a tint of blood from the battles his nana tells him about before bedtime.

“ABEL!”

The scream causes him to jump and buck, sending his small colt body over the rest of the still water oh so gracefully. He slams onto his back, stick legs waving in the air, and all he heads beyond the ache of his own body on stone is the way Jay laughs at him.

“Gotcha!”

Abel scrambles to his feet, checking to see if his pack is safe. It slipped off him just before he could full-force land on him, but there's definitely some cupcakes that have seen better days. Still, the mechanical device strapped to his side is just fine! Which means he can boot it up with a couple cranks of its lever with the mouth, bringing the 'arm' to life. He starts to guide it into his satchel, fully aware of the other colt's eyes watching him close.

“It's a prototype!” Abel chirps before Jay can ask, “It's kinda like a leg that has grippy parts on it instead of a hoof.”

“Ain't that what mouths are for?” Jay cocks his head.

Abel shakes his in response, “nope! This grips much better than teeth! It can hold onto things even we can't, 'cause it can stretch wider than our jaws!”

The two of them watch as the mechanical arm jerks and struggles. Seems like the last pack of food is too heavy for it, or maybe just jammed into his satchel too far. They sit for a few moments before Abel leans in and pulls it out by the strap meant for teeth. There's a look on Jay's face, that smug annoying look he gets when he's either amused or mocking. Abel tries to ignore it, but his ears pin in an utter betrayal of his mood.

“Whaaat?” Jay saunters up to him, sliding down to the floor to get comfortable. “Why you so grumpy all the time, Abel? I think it's cute.”

“Cute?” Abel balks, “it's not supposed to be cute! It's supposed to be-! Helpful! It's supposed to be helpful.”

The way Abel sinks at the comment. It wasn't an insult, really, but he didn't build it to be cute. A bit of sadness overwhelms him as the arm returns to its holding spot, curled up by his side as if nothing was wrong. If only he could be so ignorant and blissful; Abel looks down at the contraption, wondering if he could make it different, how to approach the kinks and bumps and issues. His head sags a bit in his emotions, wondering if he really did just mess everything up like one of the guards always said he did. He doesn't notice Jay scooting closer until he takes his lunch from the pack.

“Hey. I think it's really neat.” The colt smiles at him.

“You're just saying that to placate my feelings,” Abel responded matter-of-factly, a bit of sadness to his tone, “it's okay. I know it's not perfect.”

“No, really, Abel!” Jay leans in and nudges the device, “it's a great start. You said it was a prototype, right? C'mon, all it needs is some tweaks. It did pull out our food just right. Forrrr the most part.”

Abel looks at Jay, ears splayed out to the side with his eyes squinted. The other colt shrugged a little, starting to open his bag of food. His friend's right, though. It just needs some tweaking and redesigning. Just like this cupcake that's smashed into the see-through bag the kitchen maids gave him. It's beautiful, but the intricate frosting mattered little due to the fact that it got smashed by some force outside of its control. Nothing was fair, it seemed. But with enough time and effort, the bag holding it could be strengthened and the cupcake safe.

“So, what're you thinking of now, Abel?”

Abel lifts his head to see Jay staring at him. His head bopped up a little bit, as if asking what his friend was thinking of.

“I'm just thinkin'.” Abel tries to come up with something to avoid talking about his real thoughts.

“Abouuuut?” Jay takes a bite of the fruit from his lunch.

“Just... this place,” he looks around the cavern. “Sometimes I start dreamin' about the things these rooms used to be. Like this one, it looks like an old treasure trove of some kind. Maybe a trophy room of some sort?

Jay looked around, taking in the sights as well. Abel can't help but get lost in his daydreams about what the castles must've looked like. If only he could've seen them, lived them, walked among the knights and squires alike. What would Ruth look like all draped in gold? He's seen her Seraph attire, but the old armor he'd seen was unlike anything else. What must it have looked like in its prime?

“I could see it,” Jay's voice cut through his thoughts as he chomps on his fruit, “what kinda treasure you think they have?”

“I dunno!” Abel started chomping on the cupcake. “Maybe we should ask the Historian.”

“Maybe you should ask,” Jay corrects, “remember?”

“Oh yeah!” Abel smiles, “sorry.”

It's hard to remember sometimes that Jay isn't a part of the Seraph's Sword. Not even a squire, he's a simple civilian. A townsfolk who will one day follow Abel's orders just like anyone else.

The thought causes his stomach to churn. He doesn't enjoy the thought of pushing him around like he's seen other guards do. Not Jay. Jay's too strong willed to boss around. He'd start a fight before he'd lay down and take it, a trait Abel desperately wanted for himself. His best friend, his confidant, his ultimate hype man. Abel smiles wide at the other colt, feeling proud to call him that. Friends forever, they'd said! Always friends, never enemies. Even if Jay's mother didn't like the Sword, even if Abel's grandmother spoke ill of dissenters.

Friends 'til the end.

----

He'll always remember this place fondly. Even decades later, standing in the center of the dilapidated cavern, staring down at the caked smudges of fruit grime and cake frosting. The tightness in his chest returned, but this time it wasn't in awe at the death around him. The audacity the Fallen King had to trample over everything he loved, just like he ruined the special baked treat Abel rarely got by scaring him. How could he?

How dare he.

Abel, face worn and torn with battle and age, looked up to the exit of the trophy room. He'd seen trace of a shadow with a white face slip past the natural lighting and into the candle-lit halls of the dungeon. The last trace he had of his once-close friend, now sworn enemy.

Hooves echoed as he stepped over the ring of water surrounding the center. It felt so much smaller as an adult; if only he could once more find that familiar childish awe. Children were so naive. They cherish what they don't know, find solace in the familiarity of shallow words and cute gestures.

He refused to be blindsided again. Never again.