“Is this your first or your nineteenth?”
Ribbit.
“I don’t know,” he croaked loudly. That was how he croaked.
His servant sighed, stroking his future king.
“The groundskeeper wasn’t certain, and neither was the magician, but they agreed that frogs can live two years, at least.”
“Good,” croaked the prince.
“That means you have time to find her, my liege.
“Who,” said the skeptic croakily.
“Your princess, my liege. She can free you from your curse.”
Ribbit.
“I love you,” sighed his sweetheart.
Prompt: Tale Weaver- #142- Birthday