User blog:ThisIsXenon/GGaD Fairytale AU // more of Xenon's scribbles

Content warning--rated PG-13 for language, violence, and it's Damicah

“From this day forward, you have one mission and one mission only.”
“Go on.”

“This is Fireon’s oldest prince,” A sketch slides across the table, from one set of hands to another. “Certain groups, mostly our allies, want him dead. I’m putting you on the job.”

“Consider it done.”

“That’s what I thought, dearest, and it’s why I chose you for this. Please don’t disappoint me, it would be frustrating to have to scrape you off of the throne room floor.”

The Queen of Fireon Calls Me Scrawny—Micah
===And that’s where I’m standing now. Mockingjay’s throne room. Hopefully not about to be smashed. She’s glaring at me from her throne, about twenty feet in front of me and on a dais, but there are also four other people around me. Maybe it’s one of them she’s mad at. The guy on my left is sharpening his sword and grinning at her, and the woman on my right keeps batting her eyes at the Prince, who’s dramatically slumped in his throne. She doesn’t look like she’s seen a day of combat in her life. ''Probably just here to woo the Prince. Good luck with that.'' I’m keeping my hands on my knives, just in case. === Mocking-Jay stands, and I kneel, eyes on the floor. The others follow suit.

“So you’re respectful,” she says. “Good.”

“Been respectful since the day it got beat into me, your majesty,” Sword guy glances up, grinning again.

“Did I ask you to speak?” Mockingjay stalks down from her dais. My breath catches in my chest—not again not again—and I grit my teeth.

“No ma’am,” Sword guy mumbles.

“Didn’t think so,” Mockingjay says cooly. She walks in front of us, inspecting us. She stops in front of me. “You’re scrawny.”

It takes all my willpower not to reply.

“You have permission to speak,” Mockingjay says, not unkindly. “Tell me why you think you can handle the prince.”

My throat is dry, but I look up and manage to get out:  “To put it bluntly, your majesty, I don’t put up with bullshit.”

Mockingjay pauses for a worrying second, then throws her head back and laughs. “I like this one!” She looked to the prince. “What do you think?”

Prince Damian sighs dramatically. “He looks like no fun whatsoever.”

“A very good quality for one of your bodyguards,” Mockingjay replies. Damian sighs again. “Stop that, you sound like a horse in labour.”

I have to bite my lip to keep from laughing. The woman next to me titters.

“Stand, potentials,” Mockingjay goes back to stand in front of her throne. “I will be testing you on your skills soon. For now—“

The hair stands up on the back of my neck. I send my magic circle humming to life as the windows shatter and six people in black to hop through them.

Bandits.

Mockingjay leaps over to Damian, who’s up out of his throne and looking for an escape route. One bandit lunges at the woman next to me, she shrieks as his sword enters her chest and falls. I whip out a knife and sink it in his throat before he can do the same to me.

Then I run.

Not away, which is where all the screaming is making me want to do, but to the royals. The remaining three potentials have it covered. I jump, shift, soar over the fighting, land in front of Damian, and cast a bubble shield around him and Mockingjay. One of the bandits breaks free of the fight. I throw a knife and it lands, again right in the throat.

Sword guy takes out two in one swing, when they try to gang up on him, and he turns to take out the others only to find the two potentials already took care of it.

“Is that it?” I ask, retrieving my knife.

“I don’t see any more,” Sword guy says, sheathing his blade. “Don’t sense anything more either.”

I let the shield dissolve, and shrink my circle until it fits on the back of my hand. It whirs there, raspy, as Mockingjay and Damian gape at me.

“You’re a runeweaver,” Mockingjay says, slowly, like she doesn’t quite believe it. “It’s rare to see your kind this side of Novax.”

“So I’ve been told.”

“A runeweaver….why are you even here? Your talents could be used in much better places.”

“Novax isn’t as wonderful as some might portray it,” Not completely a lie. I haven’t been there since my dad took me when I was a kid, but I don’t remember it feeling pleasant.

“As many places are,” Mockingjay muses. She seems unfazed at the destruction—broken glass, dead bodies littered on the floor. “Jeez. I was expecting that, but not so soon. Can’t complain, that’s the best test I could give you. You three—“ She points to the potentials on the throne room floor. “Thank you. Head to the barracks. I’ll talk with you later.”

Sword guy salutes and limps out. The other two do the same. Mockingjay pauses for a second, then she grabs my shoulder and rams me into the nearest wall. My breath whooshes from my lungs, and my magic circle shatters into bits of light.

“What’s your ulterior motive?” She leans close to my face, fire burning in her irises. I vaguely remember her being a pyrokinetic, looking at the case files Hester gave me. She slams the wall next to my head with a fist, and I flinch. “What’s in it for you?”

“Housing and food, I assume,” I catch my breath and answer her. “Or money.”

“That can’t be all of it. No one wants to be his bodyguard—“ She points at Damian behind her— “because they say he’s too much to handle. There’s got to be something else in it for you.”

“I’m here for a job and a job only,” I reply. Also not a lie. “Call me desperate. I don’t think I’ve had a full meal in months.” Still not lying, though forgoing food has been semi-voluntary.

“I can see that, you’re practically drowning in that shirt,” Mockingjay steps back. “You’re hired.”

“I….what?”

“You’re hired,” Mockingjay repeats. “You’ll start tomorrow. For now, Damian, show him around. He’ll need to know the layout of the castle.”

Damian crosses his arms. “MJ, I—“

“I need to talk to the armourer about getting you a uniform,” Mockingjay talks louder, over Damian. “Anything in the kitchen is free game. Your quarters are adjacent to Damian’s, so if anything goes amiss at night, you should be able to get to him quickly. That includes stopping him from sneaking out.”

“Which I never do,” Damian looks to me and smirks.

“Liar,” Mockingjay says. “If you need anything else, don’t hesitate to let us know. Any questions?”

“No,” I reply, head spinning from all the new info. “Do you have any questions for me?”

“Nope,” Mockingjay replies. “You’ve proved your worth.”

“Has he though?” Damian looks down his nose at me. “We don’t even know his name.”

“Micah,” I meet his eyes. They’re green, and sharp, like emeralds. “Micah Jakarta.”

“There you go,” Mockingjay says. “Please show Micah around the castle. Meet me in the armoury when you’re done.”

Damian’s smirk shifts to a scowl. He jerks his head towards the door and storms off.

“Don’t let him out of your sight,” Mockingjay says. “He’s going to try and run away. Drag him after the tour is over if you have to.”

“Yes ma’am,”I give Mockingjay a quick bow before following him.

I Don’t Fucking Think So—Damian
If this kid thinks he’s gonna be following me all day, all night, he’s got another thing coming. He just waltzes into the castle, saves our lives, and now he's my nursemaid? I don’t fucking think so.

He walks so quietly that I keep forgetting he’s there, as I rattle off the different ‘attractions’ the castle has to offer.

“Dragon and Phoenix stables are that way, kitchens are to the right, and the library is at the end of this hall,” His face lights up when I say library. “Oh, you’re a bookworm, aren’t you. Boring.” We’ve passed rooms and lounges and training rooms and the armoury, getting across the castle in record time. “There’s probably more, secret passages and whatnot, but I am exhausted,” I stop in place and he does as well. “Head along to the armoury,” I wave my hand at him. “Shoo.”

“With all due respect, Prince, I was told to follow you,” His face is respectful, but his weird purple eyes are glittering at me, teasing. “And I believe Her Majesty Mockingjay’s orders supersede yours.”

“Well aren’t you a bucket of laughs,” I snark. “Make me, Little Bird.”

His hand flies up to touch behind his ears, where his characteristic shapeshifter feathers sprout from his skin.

“Yeah, don’t think I didn’t notice those, half-breed.”

“I’m a shapeshifter, not a hybrid.”

“Same difference,” I lean down until we’re at eye level. “Listen, Micah Jakarta, you’re not in charge of me. Orders or no orders, I do what I want. And there’s nothing you can do to make me.”

“Oh really?” Micah raises one eyebrow ever so slightly, and a hot feeling bubbles in my chest. I’m going to assume it’s anger. Then his hand closes around my wrist. Jolts go all the way up my arm, and he yanks me forward. “Try me, Prince. I follow orders. And that means you are coming with me to the armoury whether you like it or not.”

I try to snatch my wrist back, but his fingers are locked in place. I try to make a snappy retort, but I have nothing except the burning in my face.

“So it’s settled,” Micah jerks his chin up. “To the armoury, Prince.”

I growl at him, and in a fit of toddler-like rage, fling myself to the ground. “Drag me.”

He does, dusting the floor with my coat. I’m covered in dust bunnies and my shoulder is aching, but some of my dignity is intact when we make it to the armoury. MJ doesn’t even look surprised to see me on the floor. She grins at Micah.

“Yeah, you’re qualified,” She snickers. “Anyway, Vega’s already got your stuff ready. Evidently ‘scrawny adult male’ is a standard size.”

“There are a bunch of scrawny adult males in the castle, including one of your princes,” Vega muses, leaning against her worktable.

“Sometimes,” Mockingjay says.

“Sometimes,” Vega amends. “Sometimes she’s a scrawny adult female.”

“Cali’s not that scrawny,” I say from the floor.

“Have Damian talk to you about lineages,” Mockingjay points to Micah. “I can see you’re confused.”

“It’s complicated,” I add. “Hope your little brain’s up to the task.”

Micah ignores me, inspecting his uniform and new weapons from Vega. He’s let go of my wrist, so I jump to my feet, make a split second decision, and bolt out of the room. I can hear Micah apologising behind me, and then his barely noticeable footsteps echo through the hall.

“Catch me if you can, Little Bird!” I yell over my shoulder. He’s faster than he looks, but I’m still ahead by a good margin. He’s tracing his magic circle, twisting it to the back of his hand, then he traces a rune and throws it at me. I duck.

“You missed!” I laugh. “Gotta have better aim if you wanna catch—“

WHAM!

Now I’m staring at the ceiling. The tile is cold under my back, and Micah’s footsteps get closer and closer, until he leans into my field of view. I try to get up, but there’s something blocking me.

“Listen, Prince,” Micah kneels. “You cannot scare me away. You cannot annoy me until I quit. So quit the bullshit. You can go wherever you want starting tomorrow, but right now, your ass is gonna get up off the floor and walk to the armoury. Am I clear?”

“Crystal,” I mutter.

The invisible block vanishes. I sit up. Micah stands and offers a hand to help me up, but I smack it away and stalk off.

He says I can’t make him quit. Fine. I’ll make MJ make him quit