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"Thank you, Your Highness. Your generosity is greatly appreciated by the people of the Forge District."

"Not generosity, Mr. Dowsell. It is the crown's duty to ensure the wellbeing of its people. Please send word to your magistrate if any further aid is needed. You are dismissed."

When the old greyhound left the room, Prince Christophe stood up from his raised desk and stretched. A long day of sitting had made him restless, the formality of every interaction weighing him down. The arctic fox, dressed in an officer's uniform--simple but perfectly fitted to his slender figure--cleared his throat and straightened the gray-white fur of his tail before taking his seat once more.

"I wish I could speak freely with him, tell him that it makes my blood boil that the situation got to this point. It's beyond me why their magistrate found it acceptable." Christophe rubbed his eyes and looked to his scribe, a bespectacled otter seated below him. "Who do we have next?"

"Sergeant Ames, of the, uh..." The otter shuffled through her papers. "Of the Vanguard's Second Company. You wanted to commend his service in yesterday's battle."

"Ah. Of course." Westgate was half-city, half-military post, and Christophe served as both governor to its people and commandant to its Vanguard. He often found himself wishing that he could be responsible only for the wellbeing of his citizens, for that was where he found his fulfillment; but no one in the city was better suited to organize the Vanguard than he. A worthy burden, he figured, if it meant that more soldiers could be kept safe. He waved his hand to a guard near the entrance, cleared his throat, and righted his posture.

The doors to the the throne room opened. Through them strode a tall gray wolf, adorned with a polished steel breastplate marked with the floral crest of the Kingdom. Carrying a blue helmet under his arm, his face held what would be a steady and alert expression if not for his nervous yellow eyes darting about the room. He stopped in front of the desk and knelt.

"Sergeant Ames at your service, Your Highness."

"At ease, Sergeant," said the Prince, looking him over from head to toe as he rose. The wolf's face did not bear the scars of an old soldier, save for a notch taken from one of his ears. His relative youth and handsome features caught Christophe off guard. "You seem in good shape after yesterday's battle. Are you at all injured?"

"No, sir. Thanks to my fellows at arms, I was not wounded." He spoke in a soft and measured tone for a canine of his size.

"I am glad to hear that. However, from what I hear, your fellows at arms point to you as the reason we had no casualties."

"I did what I could, sir."

"Of course," Prince Christophe said with a smile. "You make it sound so ordinary. They say you led your squad in a charge that penetrated the enemy line, and that you crossed blades with the enemy commander and defeated him, scattering their ranks."

"It is the shields and spears of our soldiers who held the line that allowed it," said Ames, his eyes cast downward for a short moment. "I'm sure any of them could have done the same in my place."

"And I can assure you they are being celebrated accordingly. You are too humble; that's a sign of a great leader. I will be sending a letter of commendation to the King in praise of your actions."

"Thank you, sir. I am honored."

"Have your superiors spoke to you of a promotion?"

Sergeant Ames hesitated before speaking. "Well- Actually, General Linaud from the Capital is currently visiting, and he's told me that he wants me to transfer there to serve with the Silver Scale."

"The Silver Scale!" exclaimed Christophe. The Scale, tasked with protecting the most important functions of the Kingdom's government, were renowned for their peerless combat prowess and iron will. And they only train in the Capital, so many miles away. He leaned forward with a new interest. "That is a great honor. Have you made a decision yet?"

"I've decided to accept, sir. I will be leaving with tomorrow's caravan. The Capital is my home, and I long to return to see my family."

"Your family? Are you married, Sergeant?"

"N-No, it's just that my parents and younger siblings live there," Ames said, rubbing the back of his head. Christophe noticed his ears redden slightly. "I haven't seen them since I joined the Vanguard."

"I see. Your transfer will be a loss to us, but one must follow their heart. I am certain you will serve as a Scaled Guard valiantly as you do here. Say, will you..." The prince's words flowed easily at first, but he found himself lost in the wolf's pale yellow eyes. Leaving with tomorrow's caravan.

It had been a long time since Christophe allowed his mind to wander like this. He weighed the odds in his head, considered the risks involved. He might not get another chance like this. Surely he'd earned a break from his duties for just one night.

"Highness?" It was his scribe, holding a quill and looking up at him expectantly. Christophe blinked as his focus returned.

"Ah. Excuse me. Sergeant Ames, I thank you for your courage and leadership in yesterday's battle. You are dismissed." The prince watched him leave, resting his head on his hand.

"Is everything all right, Highness?" asked the scribe.

"Yes," he sighed, and motioned to the stationery on her desk. "Hand me a quill and some letterhead. I need to write a message."

---

Sergeant Ames wrung his hands as he paced down the compacted path in the snow. The note had been delivered to him at the tavern, just before he could join his comrades in victor's revelry.

_Sgt. Ames-

I would like to speak with you further before you depart for the Capital. You are invited to join me for a drink tonight in the keep if you wish. Please keep this note to yourself._

Your Loyal Prince

The wolf was puzzled by the request. Why would the prince have need of him again? What could warrant a meeting at this hour? Why did the prince have to be so damned attractive? He shook the thought from his head like water from his fur. He'd gone this far in life without making a fool of himself in front of his superiors, and he couldn't let it happen now before such an important promotion. One of the guards posted outside the keep's entrance addressed him.

"What can I do for you, sir?"

"His Highness wished to speak with me."

"I see. Follow me, please." Ames was led into a large antechamber and up the grand stairway. Rich blue and silver tapestries filled the halls with a calm, orderly atmosphere. This castle was no Capital Palace, but it was still a place fit for royalty. After what seemed like enough stairs for a tower of twice the keep's height, they reached the top floor.

The guard walked him to the end of a hallway, past another guard, and knocked on a dark wooden door. "Sergeant Ames to see you, sir," she said.

"Oh! One moment," Light footfalls made their way to the door. As it opened Ames saw the prince, dressed not in his uniform, but in a comfortable silk tunic and loose trousers. "Thank you, Private, you may return to your post," Christophe said to the guard, then waved Ames forward. "Please, come in."

The wide-eyed wolf stepped into the room and looked about his surroundings. The bedroom was not as big or as extravagant as he had expected, though it was pristinely well-kept. A large four-poster bed dominated one side of the room, while the other contained a desk as well as two soft chairs by a fireplace. Two windows flanked the room, one looking out over the city, the other with a view of a mountainous river valley. It all smelled faintly of wildflowers.

"Welcome, Sergeant. I hope I did not take you away from anything important."

"Of course not, Your Highness, nothing more important than a royal invitation," The prince stood in front of him with his hands clasped behind his back, the first time Ames had seen him up close and on equal footing. The arctic fox was more than a full head shorter than him. A voluminous white tail hung behind him, the fur at its end an ashy gray. The same was true of most of the fox's extremities. "You... wished to speak with me?"

"Indeed. Come have a seat. You may be at ease, Sergeant," said the prince, walking over to a small table by the fireplace. "Would you like a drink?"

"Um... Yes, please, thank you." Ames took his seat, projecting an air of out-of-practice formality as Christophe poured two glasses of blue-red meadowberry wine and handed one to him. The prince took a sip, then looked at Ames's statue-like posture in amusement.

"Relax, Sergeant, this is not an official meeting," he laughed. Ames blinked and looked down into his wine. He had never met someone in this way; most of his life since adolescence had been spent in the barracks among other soldiers, where free time was all mead and rowdiness. He found himself nervous in the presence of this small fox.

"S-Sorry, sir."

"Sergeant Ames, how long have you been in the Vanguard?"

"Five years now, I think. I joined as soon as they'd let me. I've been at this post for three."

"How do you feel about going back to the Capital? It must be difficult to say goodbye to your comrades here."

"Difficult indeed. I hope I will be able to visit them every once in a while." Ames noticed the prince's ear twitch upon hearing the word "visit".

"Have you absolutely decided on transferring?"

"I have."

Christophe nodded. He opened his mouth as if to speak, but remained silent for a moment, looking away. "I-" he started, taking a breath. "I have a problem that I think you could help me with."

"I am in your service, Highness. What troubles you?"

"First, two things. One: You should know that the commendation I sent is already on its way to the Capital. Nothing tonight will change that. Two: This matter is strictly private, between you and I. Can I trust you?"

"You have my word," said Ames automatically, before he had processed the meaning of what Christophe just said. The words spun around his mind, a few of them jumping into his thoughts. Tonight? Private?

"Good. You see, a life of royalty has many benefits. I will not pretend to be disadvantaged or cursed by my blood. There do exist a few things which are scarce to me, though, and the absence of one of them has been particularly painful to me as of late."

"What could a prince possibly want for, Your Highness?"

"You have seen how carefully I choose my words when I am speaking to my subjects, Sergeant. It's like that all the time for me. Even with my closest aides, I can't have a truly open interaction."

"Why not?"

"Because it is expected of me. I have a duty to present myself as some... paragon of leadership and resolve. To show dependency or weakness is to shatter the image of a ruler."

"I don't think a little imperfection makes someone a bad leader, though."

"Is it not true that during a battle, no matter how you are feeling at the time, you must be a pillar of strength for your squad to depend on?"

"I suppose that's true."

"In a similar way, I have a responsibility to all of Westgate. I cannot serve them if they don't trust my leadership, or if they see me as weak. This is a burden I bear without regret, as it's worth the pain it causes me."

"The pain?"

"You see, there is nobody that I can truly share myself with. I have been very lonely for a while now." The prince's eyes were cast downward. Ames sat in empathetic discomfort.

"I'm sorry, Your Highness, but..." His voice trailed off as he watched Christophe stand up and walk to a window. A soft breeze from its opening brushed the fabric of his silks against his midsection as he looked out over the city. Ames got up and stepped toward him.

"But, if that's the case, why are you telling this to me?

"I know this is selfish of me," said Christophe, as he turned to face Ames with his hands still clasped behind his back. "But I'd like you to help me break my own rules."

"I don't understand."

"I'm asking for your companionship tonight; not as a ruler and his subject, but as two animals of flesh and blood."

Ames closed his eyes, stunned. Did I hear him right? This must be a dream, he thought. Or maybe I died heroically in battle and this is the afterlife? He gasped as two soft hands taking hold of his own pulled him back into reality.

"But- Surely you could have someone fairer than I. The royal consorts-"

"I find the use of consorts distasteful. It's not the same when they are paid to be there."

"Why me, then? Won't the King want you to get married to some noble or princess?"

Christophe laughed. "You will be leaving soon, away from my influence, which allows me to ask you this without it weighing on my conscience. Besides," The prince looked up into his eyes. "A princess is not my type. Do you accept, Sergeant Ames?"

Ames felt his heart pounding, heard the rush of blood in his ears. The sensation he found hardest to ignore, though, was the fox's rich scent, pheromones tinged with the fragrance of tundra wildflowers. It drove his lupine senses wild.

"Yes," he breathed. "I accept."

"Good. What's your given name, Sergeant?"

"Martin, sir," said Ames, voice trembling, as Christophe let go of his big hands and lowered himself to his knees. Never in his life did Ames think that the prince would ever be the one kneeling for him.

"Please, Martin, call me Chris," he said, undoing the large buckle that held up Ames' sword. He nearly dropped the belt, surprised by its weight. "Why do soldiers carry blades when they are off-duty?" Christophe asked with a laugh.

"I've carried it for too long. I feel naked without it."

"Well, if ever there was a time for that..." he said, setting the sword and heavy belt aside. "The sheath on your belt isn't the one I'm interested in, anyway."

Ames watched breathlessly as the prince unfastened his fly and ran his fingers through the tufted fur of his abdomen.

"I didn't know wolves could be so soft," said Christophe. He rolled down the waist of Ames' pants, and quietly gasped. The sheath in front of him was larger than his fist. Ames shuddered as the fox pressed his cold nose against it, breathing in his scent. The red flesh of Ames' wolfhood began to emerge, the prince teasing it out with one hand and swirling strokes of his tongue. With the other hand, he pulled Ames' trousers down further and gently fondled the wolf's groin.

Christophe kept licking, enjoying the taste of Ames' warm cock. He ran his tongue up and down its still-growing length. Still growing... and growing... The prince swallowed nervously. He knew how much taller and stronger gray wolves were than foxes, but he hadn't considered this sort of size difference.

"Are all wolves this...big?"

"Um, I'm not really sure. I've never-" His train of thought was halted by Christophe taking his hand and guiding it to the back of his head as the fox closed his lips around his shaft. Or rather, the half of it that would fit. Ames shut his eyes in bliss.

Though he couldn't take it all, Christophe was not discouraged. He worked with an enthusiastic vigor, exploring as much of the wolf's cock as he could. Gently running his fangs along its surface made Ames' breath catch with pleasure. With every movement of Christophe's maw, the sergeant found it increasingly difficult to mask his groans.

Not wanting his fun to end too early, Christophe pulled back, wiped his muzzle, and admired his handiwork. Ames' member stood at full twitching attention, dripping with saliva and precum. The prince stood up and tugged on the collar of Ames' uniform.

"Get yourself comfortable, Martin. I want to see all of you," he said, walking towards his bed, fluffy tail swishing behind him. Ames turned away and began hastily undressing. He fumbled with his uniform, struggling with each metal button. Damn claws, he thought, tossing the uniform aside. He pulled his undershirt over his head and stepped out of his boots and pants.

"Sorry to keep-" he said, turning around to see Christophe laying bare-furred on the bed, watching him. "Keep you waiting..." The fox he saw before him was even more stunning than he had anticipated. The shorter fur of his abdomen highlighted his lithe figure in a brilliant white, without a trace of the ash coloring that tinted his face and tail. His bright red cock hung half out of its sheath, contrasted against his monochrome fur.

"Don't worry. I was enjoying the show," said the prince, admiring the wolf's lean build and the way his wiry musculature rippled under his fur. He rolled onto his back and lifted one of his legs.

"I'm not sure you'll fit without some preparation. Do you think your tongue could help with that?"

Ames gave a wide-eyed nod and knelt at the edge of the bed. He used one hand to hold up Christophe's leg, and nudged his snout against the underside of his ballsack. The prince gasped as he felt the wolf's hot breath against his tailhole.

Starting with quick licks around the rim, Ames put his big tongue to use. He ran its long surface from bottom to top, feeling Christophe tense and shiver with the sensation. As he picked up the pace, so too did the fox's soft moans.

After a few moments, Ames lifted his head in concern.

"Um, Chris, do you think the guards will hear anything?"

Christophe looked at him with a mischievous grin. He lifted a claw and traced an inscrutable symbol in the air. Shimmering violet sparks, appearing seemingly from nowhere, leapt from his hand to the door. They clung to it for but a moment before sinking into the wood.

"This room is rather soundproof already, but that should give us a promise of privacy."

Ames stared in awe at the display.

"Was that magic?" Stupid question, he thought, before even finishing the sentence. Though he had never witnessed it before, those of the Kingdom's royal bloodline were all sorcerers. The inheritance of such abilities was the basis of their claim to power.

"Indeed. It's usually only good for party tricks like that," said Christophe. "Now, if you've had your fun down there, I think I'm ready for you."

The prince rolled over, face against the sheets, and stuck his rear into the air. Looking back with irresistible eyes, he hugged the wolf with his long tail, pulling him closer. Ames took hold of his hips and guided his cock to the fox's asshole.

"It's, ah, been a while. Please be gentle," said Christophe, feeling the tip press against him, made slick by saliva and precum. Even in this room's brisk air that blew in a soft breeze from the open windows, Christophe's fur still felt cool; his tailhole and cock, though, burned with a surprising heat. With slow thrusts of his hips, Ames pushed his way inside.

Christophe's claws dug into the sheets, his eyes held shut. He took deep, measured breaths, trying his best to relax despite the building pressure between his legs. Perhaps he'd gotten too ambitious. This wolf was bigger than any partner he'd had before-- not that he'd had many. Similar sentiments crossed Ames' mind as he struggled to fit only half his length into the fox's tight tailhole.

Half would have to do for now. Ames backed out, then pressed forward again. With every thrust, he pushed a little deeper. A rhythm built, punctuated every few seconds by a quiet moan from the prince.

Faster and deeper he went, the fox's moans getting louder and the bucking of his hips more pronounced, until Ames could finally fit it all up to his thick knot. "Ah!" Christophe gasped, feeling its girth against the rim of his tailhole. They both knew in that moment that it wasn't going to fit anytime soon. The wolf cock already stretching his limits was plenty, anyway.

In that room high up in the keep, filled with noises of pleasure and heavy breathing, time seemed to slow down. Or did it speed up? Ames wasn't sure how long he'd been up there. He took in every touch and sound, savoring them with the painful knowledge that they could never see each other like this again.

Ames noticed the fox stroking himself with one of his soft hands. I probably should have been doing that. Oh well, he thought. By the way that he felt Christophe twitching and shuddering, the prince must be close.

"Faster, Martin," he breathed. Ames obliged, picking up the pace and Christophe's cute yelps and moans grew louder still as the fox let go of whatever apprehension he'd held. It was a good thing the door was soundproof, else the guard outside would hear them for sure. Ames bent down to Christophe's ear.

"How do you want it?"

"Out- ah! Outside, please--"

As you wish, thought Ames. He noticed the prince's tail flex and saw his back arch.

"Martin, I--" A cry of ecstasy cut off his words as he shoved himself back against the wolf's knot. Ames felt the fox's climax, clenching in waves of pleasure around his dick. The pressure was too much for him, an unbearable intensity building in his loins. With a lustful growl, he pulled out, laying his cock on top of Chris's backside, rubbing against the base of his tail.

Hot ropes of cum painted the prince's back in lewd stripes. He lied there for a minute, panting in the bliss after the moment, then rolled over and reached up to grab Ames's hand.

"Wha--" Ames found himself falling onto the bed, pulled with surprising force. He landed beside Chris, who gazed into his eyes as if trying to memorize their every detail.

"You won't make leaving any easier for me if you keep looking at me like that."

"Sorry," Christophe said sheepishly. "Will you just hold me for a bit?"

If he stayed any longer, he realized, he wouldn't be able to leave. He tore his gaze away from Christophe.

"I want to, but we've been in here for a while. The guards might notice something if I don't leave soon," said Ames, starting to sit up. Christophe held on to his arm, keeping him in place.

"Wait! I-"

Ames looked back at him with a gentle expression. As they locked eyes once more, a warm, intense passion welled up in Christophe's chest, present only for an agonizing instant before another side of his thoughts forced him to remember his duties. He blinked, let go of Ames, and cleared his throat.

"You're right. It's best you head back now; you've done enough to help me. I regret that we won't see each other again, Martin."

"Anything for my prince." Ames stepped off the bed, smiling, then looked down at the mess in both of their fur. "Um, is there a towel I could borrow...?"

"Oh, right. Hold still." With a wave of Christophe's fingers and a shimmer of violet sparks, they both were clean. The pair got dressed quickly, doing their best to obscure that their clothes had spent the majority of this meeting in a pile on the floor. As Ames finished straightening out the cuffs of his uniform, Christophe approached the door.

"Here, it won't look as weird if I show you out. First, though-" The fox stepped up to Ames and stood on the tips of his paws to plant a quick kiss on the side of his muzzle. "Goodbye, Martin."

Christophe cleared his throat and pulled open the door, letting Ames step out. "Thank you again for your service, Sergeant. Send your commander in the Capital my regards." The prince's voice had returned to its usual stateliness.

"I will. Goodbye, Chris-mhm!- Your Highness." Ames masked his mistake with an awkward cough. The door closed behind him, and he noticed the hallway guard give him the slightest of sideways glances.

As he left the keep, the night breeze that ruffled his fur felt colder than he remembered.

In the castle's highest room, Christophe lied in his bed, arms wrapped around a pillow. His sheets still carried the wolf's scent. Prudence would suggest he clean them immediately, erasing the evidence and suppressing the memory, but he could not bring himself to do anything else but lie there and think of Martin Ames. The aching emptiness that had clouded his mind in recent days was gone, but a new longing had taken its place; one that he had never truly felt before.

You stupid fox, he told himself. Why are you falling for a wolf you'll never see again?