24

Captivity

Greta woke with a start. She looked around, seeing only grey walls in the dim light shining from somewhere. She shivered, watching her breath rise. She was standing on her hind legs, and her claws were chained to the wall above her. Groaning, she went to hold her throbbing head, but her claws were stopped short by their shackles. Slowly, memories of the previous night trickled back into her mind, and she hit her head on the wall.

"Great," she muttered. She looked around, wondering if she could see anything else in her cell. It wasn't much bigger than a bathroom, and it looked ancient. The walls were made of huge rocks, with giant cracks forming in-between and along their faces. There was a small door in front of her made of some rotten wood. A small barred window was above her, and snow drifted through occasionally.

The chains holding up her claws were actually one chain, and it was attached to a lone hook in the ceiling. She made to jump to get the chains unhooked, but was again stopped short. Looking at her hind legs, she saw they were shackled as well, albeit attached to the wall.

She shivered again. From the looks of the walls and bars, she assumed the place was hundreds of years old, almost like a castle, but she wasn't aware of any castles in the Griffon Kingdom. She thought it might be tucked away in the eastern mountains somewhere, hence the snow.

Suddenly, the door began rattling. She looked up and heard someone fumbling with some keys. The door opened with a small creak, and she saw someone quickly dart away. Peering outside, all Greta could make out were more doors like hers. The figure, who Greta assumed to be a guard, soon came back with another guard, although the second seemed much more decorated. The first stayed outside by the door, and the second came inside.

He stopped in front of Greta and appeared to look her over. Without a word, he would tilt his head to one side, then the other. Then, seeming to make up his mind about something, he flipped up his visor, revealing a questioning gaze.

"I don't get it," he said with an air of sadness. "How is it that a beautiful griffon such as yourself would abandon her kind? And on the dawn of our new Kingdom?" He smiled and chuckled softly. "It's madness. Surely you must realize your folly by now, what with all you have endured. Fortunately for you, we are not unreasonable creatures." He extended a wing and gestured to the door with a claw. "As our King Gale first did, I personally extend to you an offer to return to Griffonstone. We would be remiss if we did not look after our own."

Greta scoffed but otherwise said nothing. The guard ruffled his wings a bit and paced the small room. "Oh, come now. If you would only forsake this foolishness, we needn't have any..." He looked at her and frowned. "Unpleasantness. You could be out of here this day. I'm only trying to be reasonable with you, dear."

"Go to hell," Greta replied.

The guard stopped and stared at her for a moment. "I will give you until tomorrow to think about this. I wouldn't be so quick to refuse this chance." He flipped his visor down and walked out of the room without another word. He whispered something to the other guard, and they locked the door behind them.

A night passed. Greta woke up, her body cramping and stomach twisting. She had begun to develop a cough from the cold which tore at her throat. Her claws and paws were numb from being chained, and her knees and ankles felt stiff. For the majority of the day, she watched the shapes of light travel from the opposite wall to her feet and then disappear. The door rattled again, and the same two guards appeared. The one who questioned her yesterday stepped forward, visor down.

"Have you reconsidered my offer?" he asked. Greta thickly spat on him. He pulled out a cloth and wiped it away. He turned, whispered something to the guard, and they left. But this time they left the door open. She stared out, wondering why, when the two returned with two more. One carried with him a saw, and Greta felt her heart drop into her stomach.

"Because you so willingly gave up your pride," the head guard said, "you do not deserve your wings."

"No," she gasped.

The head guard nodded his head. The bigger of the other three guards walked to Greta and grabbed her right wing. She pulled it back, but the guard was stronger. He forced it outwards, and the other two guards stepped forward. The one with the saw went to her wing, and the other to the opposite side of her. She tried to pull her wing back again to no avail. The guard placed the saw on the root of the wing and looked back at the head guard. The head guard looked at Greta, who stared back at him. He nodded, and the guard moved the saw blade forward.

An unimaginable pain shot through her entire back, flowing from the root of her wing into the back of her skull and the end of her tail. She arched back and screamed. The third guard punched her in her gut, making her sputter and choke. The second guard continued to move the saw forward and back, ripping and tearing deeper into her wing. Gasping for air, she looked at the one with the saw. He continued his work, agonizingly, slowly. Each stroke sent new waves of pain coursing through her. She saw the big guard pull at her wing, exposing more of it. She soon smelled bone in the air.

She regained her breathing but exerted all of her remaining will not to scream again. After what felt like hours, the one with the saw stopped his work and nodded at the big guard. One sharp pain later, her wing was off. Seeing her dismembered wing was unreal to her. She almost wasn't aware of the pain anymore. She stared at her wing as the big guard tossed it into the corner. The one with the saw moved to her left side, and she mercifully blacked out.

Her entire back throbbed. She tried not to sleep to spare herself from resting on her wing stubs. She had expected the pain, but she never thought of the intense prickling sensation of torn nerves nor the frigid icicles her shortened bones had become in the cold. She could feel the dried blood sticking in the fur on her back. The guards had left her wings in the corner, and she couldn't help but continue to stare at them. She kept telling herself this wasn't happening, that at any moment Gilda or someone would wake her.

She again watched the sunlight travel from the wall to her feet and disappear. She hadn't had a drink in three days. Her cough had gotten raspier and deeper. Her head felt like it was going to cave into itself. Was this how she was going to die? Of thirst? She began wondering how much water she lost in blood when the door opened again. She sluggishly looked up and saw a small guard with a bucket. She could see shadows in the hallway, suggesting he wasn't alone.

"W-what do..." she said before stopping herself. Her throat felt like it was going to tear itself in half. The small guard hovered above the ground and held the bucket to her face. Her eyes widened as she realized it was water. She looked to the guard, and he tilted the bucket towards her. The freezing water shocked her at first, but she immediately began to drink as much of it as she could, barely stopping to catch her breath. Her throat began to feel like mud, but she kept drinking. The guard pulled the bucket away when half of the water was gone.

Greta shook flecks of water off of her face. She almost wanted to thank the guard, but her throat still hurt. A feeling hit her gut, and she realized she made a mistake in drinking so much. She had an overwhelming urge to vomit, and she fought to keep it under control. The small guard left the cell and closed the door. She continued to will the water she drank to stay inside of her, and after a few nauseating minutes, she won.

Another day crept by. Greta believed today was her fourth day, but was beginning to feel like the first two days were one. She saw the sunlight again go from the wall to her feet, and waited. She tried her best to ignore her stubs and wings. She could hear other doors opening and other conversations being had and punishments being dealt. She stared at her own door, waiting for someone to walk through it, but no one came.

The sunlight touched her feet and vanished. She had stared at the door for the last day and a half with no one showing up. Maybe they had forgotten about her. Maybe they decided she wasn't going to break. But wouldn't they just get rid of her then? She snapped out of her thoughts when she heard the door open. The same four guards walked in, but this time with a cleaver. She closed her eyes and hit her head on the wall.

"Now?" The guard didn't need to specify. Greta stared at him, not speaking. The guard motioned to the others, and the big guard moved forward and grabbed the tuff of maroon at the end of her tail. She closed her eyes again and waited. She heard footsteps coming towards her and felt the other guard grab her tail and press it against the wall. The sharp wedge quickly went through, and with a loud yelp, a new pain seared up along her tail to her spine, joining the two stubs. The guards bandaged the end of her tail haphazardly and grabbed the discarded tuff and her wings.

"A length for every chance you waste," the head guard said. They closed the door as they left. Greta cried quietly to herself.

When the small guard with the bucket came in again, Greta knew for certain their pattern. She drank again, more than the first time. Water was her only friend here. The following day, she knew she was right. The day passed without any occurrence. She awaited the third day with a morbid excitement. It would at least be eventful, she thought to herself.

Another day passed. She lost more of her tail. Another day passed. She got a drink. Another day passed. No visitors.

When the guards returned, they brought with them a griffon prisoner. He was in a state like Greta—lacking wings and tail and obviously starving—but his eyes had been gouged out, replaced with bloody holes. Greta shuddered and closed her eyes. Was that the next stage of the Pride's persuasion? Upon recognizing the prisoner from Griffonstone, she started; she then groaned quietly, for the head guard's eyes lit up.

"Ah!" the guard said happily. "So you two are acquainted? How delightful!"

"Please," the prisoner croaked, "just let me go back to—"

The head guard slashed at his face, leaving red rivers between beige feathers. The big guard held the prisoner up by the scruff of his neck. The head guard came forward and looked at Greta.

"You know what I want," he said. Greta glanced quickly between the guard and the prisoner, who shook his head slightly, mouthing the word no. The big guard roughly jolted him, and he was still. Greta looked back at the main guard, who seemed to think he had won.

"You know my answer," she said hoarsely. The main guard curled up his claw and punched Greta in the stomach. While she was gasping for air, Greta watched the main guard go up to the prisoner, take out a dagger, and stab him. The prisoner coughed and sputtered, specks of blood flying out. The guard stabbed him once more, and he collapsed. He took out a cloth and wiped the blade. The big guard dropped the prisoner unceremoniously on the floor, and the two left the room.

When Greta finally regained control of her breath, she looked at the prisoner. He was breathing rapidly, coughing once in a while. Greta closed her eyes and turned away. After a few moments, she felt a claw grab her foot and looked back at the dying griffon.

"I-it's..." The prisoner took a ragged breath. "O-o-kay..." He turned his head to Greta and smiled at her for a moment. Coughing weakly, he let go of Greta's leg. He curled up, coughed once more, and laid still. Greta noticed the crimson pooling around the body, and she began to cry again. None of this was okay.

She had no desire to drink the next day. As soon as the water hit her beak, though, her instincts took over, and she drank as much as she could. When she finished, and the small guard dragged the body away, she was disgusted with herself.

She could have sworn the guards would have come in today. No... that was yesterday, wasn't it? Her brain felt thick. She couldn't keep time straight in her mind. All the days had sort of melted into one hellish day. Then the small guard entered her room. Had it been that long already?

Her tail now a stub, her only visitor was the small guard. He would come in every third day with the bucket. At least he seemed nice, she thought to herself. He never hurt her. But, in a way, he prolonged her suffering. She was just glad those sadistic guards weren't coming into her cell anymore.

Where was that small guard? He should have been here by now. The sun had long since disappeared, and her throat was stuck to itself. She wanted to call out but couldn't because of the pain. All she could do was wait.

A screech echoed outside. She craned her sore neck to listen better and thought she could hear fighting outside. She laughed, hurting her throat. "About time," she murmured. She listened to the outside, glad something was happening. She wondered if Gilda and her friends were out there, trying to get to her. She thought it was growing louder. In spite of herself, she smiled, even became hopeful.

She heard something else now, coming from the room outside. She held her breath, listening. At first, she couldn't hear anything but the fight outside, but then she heard it again. It was the dull creaks and thuds of other doors. They opened and then closed every minute or so. Some of them were accompanied by by short yells. The sounds seemed to grow louder, getting closer. Then they stopped. Greta stared at her own door, now terrified of it.

Rainbow and Soarin' flew into the prison unhindered. All of the griffons had been lured outside into a giant furball with the pegasi. The two ran to a giant wooden door, which they hoped led to the stairs. Opening it, they found a long stretch of hallway, some stairs at one end and another wooden door at the other.

"Okay, I think there's at least six levels to this place," Rainbow said. "Soarin', search the bottom three, alright?"

He nodded, then sighed. "I just hope they're alive, Dash."

"Me too," she said solemnly. Soarin' ran to the door, and Rainbow flew up the spiral staircase.

At the fourth door she came across, Rainbow stopped. She slowly opened the door, cursing its creaks, and heard no one. Peeking inside, she could see a giant room. At the far end, opposite of the door she entered, were two doors, which she assumed led to a balcony. All of the doors to the cells were shut. She crept inside, trying to keep as quiet as she could. She creaked open the first door she saw, peered into it, and reeled backwards. A wingless and emaciated mare was chained to the wall, bearing a few stab wounds in her sunken stomach. Rainbow looked away at the door. She debated whether or not to shut it, then decided to just get out.

She opened the door adjacent and, upon seeing another dead pony, flew away, then stopped abruptly. She flew slowly back to the cell, feeling she knew him. She stood in the open door, staring at the body. After a few sickening moments, her eyes widened in realization. It was Zephyr Breeze. He was in a similar condition as the other pony, though he had not been stabbed; rather, his gaunt frame told her he had starved. Rainbow stood in silent horror. She had no idea he was in the air force. Another pony popped into her mind—Fluttershy—and she groaned for her friend. She shook her head. "I'm sorry, Zephyr," she muttered.

Rainbow walked slowly now, what little hope she had in finding anyone alive ebbing away at each cell. She flinched less and less as she opened more and more doors to ponies she once knew from Cloudsdale and Ponyville and Stratusberg. She slowly began to realize, with each opened door only serving to compound it, how much the war would affect both pegasi and griffons. The realization shook her deeply, and she had to stop for a moment. How many had died already? How many more in the weeks, months, or even years to come? Casting her eyes back on the row of open doors, she said quietly to herself, "What a waste."

Trotting up to the next floor, she now half-heartedly opened doors and no longer winced. No one was alive. The silence was maddening. "This is just like Trottingham," she whispered to herself. Tears and memories threatened to overwhelm her at that moment, but she fought back. She moved up to the next floor, unsure if she could look another corpse in the eye.

Rainbow jolted. There was a small griffon at the end of the large room walking out of an open cell. Rainbow had to find her voice before shouting, "Hey!" The griffon froze for a moment before running towards the double doors. Rainbow took off after him. He opened the doors, a small flurry of snow entering, and slammed them in Rainbow's face. She was about to pull them open again when a voice from the cell called out hoarsely.

"W-wait."

Rainbow flinched, turning around quickly to face the voice. It belonged to a skeletal griffon, hobbled over and seemingly shuddering under her own weight. She had light green feathers and a maroon coat, and she lacked wings as well as a tail. She was reaching out a claw. Rainbow studied her for a moment, trying to scratch an itch which popped up in her mind. She thought of Gilda, and then a name came to her.

"Are you Greta?"

The griffon's eyes widened, and she nodded shakily. "Y-yes, yes! I-I'm Greta!" She took a hesitant step forward but stumbled. Rainbow quickly went to help her up and was chilled at how light the griffon was. A smile broke through Greta's beak. "How d-did you know w-who I was?"

"Gilda told me about you."

"Gilda?"

"Yeah, she's back at Thunderhead." Rainbow gestured to the other cell doors. "Is anyone else alive here?"

Greta shook her head. "I-I don't think so. He said I-I was the last one."

"Who, that guard?"

"Mhm. H-he didn't talk to a-anyone else o-or spare them. I would've heard."

"Why did he spare you?"

"D-dunno. M-maybe because I-I'm a griffon."

Rainbow looked to the door leading to the stairs. "Look, I need to talk to my wingmate real quick and see how many we have alive here." She began to set Greta on her own feet, but Greta shook her head. "I'll be right back," Rainbow reassured. "This balcony is where we'll leave from, but I can't just ditch my partner. I'll be back. Okay?"

After a moment, Greta nodded once. Rainbow gently left Greta, who once again buckled but motioned Rainbow onwards. The pegasus hurriedly flew down the stairs, making it down a few levels before she hit somepony flying up. She fell down a couple of stairs before stopping herself, her shoulder smarting a bit. She turned and saw Soarin' rubbing his head and getting up.

"Soarin'! Did you find any—?"

He nodded his head, though he looked faint. "But there's so many that are dead."

"But not all dead?"

"No, thank Celestia. I took care of a guard right before the third floor. Only that floor has survivors. The others..."

Rainbow grimaced. "That's better than we'd hoped. Did you tell them—"

"—that we'd send back help? Yeah."

"Good, good."

Soarin' motioned downstairs. "Let's go."

"Wait. I found a griffon at the top floor. Remember Gilda talking about Greta?"

It took Soarin' a moment before his eyes widened. "You actually found her?"

"I think so. There's a balcony up there where we can leave from. I'm going to take Greta back personally."

"A griffon before the pegasi?"

"We'll be back for the others when we have the ponies to move them."

Soarin' huffed. "Alright, but let's hurry."

They flew upstairs and found Greta shakily standing next to the doors. Soarin' helped Greta onto Rainbow's back. Greta winced and weakly cling to Rainbow's neck, and they walked out to the balcony. Blinking and shivering in the bright white outside, they saw the battle a little ways off and Thunderhead looming close overhead.

Rainbow looked to Greta. "You ready?" Greta nodded once, and they all flew off.