Chapter Text
Grian had been traveling with Martyn and BigB for a couple of weeks. They heard that the Fairy King was having a wedding, and there would be free food. While Grian was just a commoner, he had been all over the world and jumped at the chance to visit the Forest of the Fairy King. The wedding was going to be open to the public, to any that dared to dine with the Fairy King, that is. But Grian wasn’t too worried; there was going to be royalty from all over the world at this wedding. He doubted the Fairy King would dare to enthrall the entirety of the continent’s leaders. This would probably be the safest time to visit, and while he could have gone alone, a party is much more fun with friends, so he roped Martyn and BigB into joining him.
By Grians calculations, the court of the Fairy King was only two more days travel by foot. At least if you followed the path, but when Grian flew up to look at the landscape, he could see that the road was quite winding. Not far off, a river ran straight through the forest.
When he suggested to the group that they take a shortcut, they were pretty enthusiastic. Everything was going well until they stopped to make camp for the night. They moved away from the river to pitch camp. Martyn and BigB set up the tent while Grian collected wood for a fire. Once he had as much as he needed, he started to head back. Grian quickly realized he couldn’t hear the river, nor did anything look familiar. Grian walked in the direction he thought the camp should be, but there was nothing. He hurried his step, underbrush striking him across his legs and torso in the dim light as he called out to his traveling companions, but the only sound that answered him was crickets.
“Martyn! BigB! This isn’t funny!” He spun around, looking into the darkness for any sign of them or anything familiar. “Fine, you know what,” He huffed, dropping the wood and taking off into the sky with a powerful flap of his wings. Breaking through the canopy, he circled overhead, looking over the dark green tree tops bathed in moonlight, and his heart sank. Nothing looked familiar. The trees stretched on as far as he could see, and there was no river in sight.
Grian flew back down to the ground, the dark oak trees looming above him, their silhouettes pressing in around him and creaking in the wind. Stories of the tricks of the Fairy Forest ran through his mind, and his stomach filled with dread as he realized his terrible mistake. He didn’t like it down here, but avine wings were not made for long-distance flying. He would need to walk.
He had been walking for hours when his legs finally gave up, and he sat down in the damp loam of the forest floor in the nook of some tree roots. Just a couple minutes rest, and then he would keep going. Just a few minutes…
Grian woke up to the sound of birds singing. He sat bolt upright, bits of leaves stuck in his hair, and his red sweater soaked with dew. He shivered and looked around. The place looked much different in the daylight. Dappled pools of morning light peeked through the thick canopy, and moss grew on the dark oak trees along with strange-looking mushrooms and lichen. Young green brush grew in clumps, and still, nothing looked familiar.
“Hello?” Grian tried calling again, but he was only met by a squirrel startling and scampering away into the tree branches above, showering him with acorns. Grian flinched and stared at the nuts as they bounced about his feet. His stomach rumbled. Why had he left his pack with the other two? Though his avine heritage meant he could eat acorns, they weren’t much of a meal. But it was better than nothing. He reluctantly started picking up acorns and stuffing them in his pockets before continuing to walk, occasionally stopping to crack open a nut and pick out the insides before continuing. He just needed to find the river or the road; then he would be able to follow it back to civilization.
Grian walked for several more hours till the forest grew denser and the foliage thicker, so the light barely peeked through the leaves above. He stopped short at the sight of a strange green creature lurking in the clearing up ahead, its fur dappled in shades of green, camouflaging it with its surroundings. Grian squinted at it, his curiosity piqued. He had heard stories of strange creatures that lived in the fairy forest. It slowly turned around with an odd smoothness. It locked eyes with Grian, a flash of red deep behind dark empty sockets and bared teeth set in lipless gray gums. Grian recoiled. It started to move slowly and silently towards him, its four legs perambulating in a rhythmic crawl like an insect. Grian’s chest tightened. This did not look like a friendly! He started to back up. It kept coming towards him. Nope, nope. He did not like this. Grian ran, and before he realized where he was, he stumbled onto the road. He barely had time to notice he had come out just behind a group of travelers when the creature crept out of the forest onto the path next to him.
Grian shrieked and jumped, running through the group of travelers to escape it, barreling past armed guards and a finely dressed man. They shouted in surprise. Grian turned around just in time to see the creature explode. One of the armed guards knocked the finely dressed man to the ground, and the white horse screamed and bolted.
Grian stared in horror; there was a lot of blood seeping out from under the guard's armor.
“Grab him!” One of the other guards shouted, pointing at Grian. Grian jumped and bolted. He was about to run back into the trees but realized he might never find his way back out again if he did.
Two guards tackled him to the ground, Grian squawked and struggled under their weight till he felt the cold, sharp mettle of a dagger press against the back of his neck, and a harsh threat barked too close to his ear, “Don’t move, or this is going through your neck.”
Grian froze, breathing tightly, his face pressed into the dirt and the guard's armor digging into his wings and back.
“Oh, let him up; let me have a look at him,” Came a new, rather jovial voice.
“He just tried to kill you, your majesty,” came a rather dry voice.
Your majesty?
“I know, I want to see him; it’s kind of hard to do that when you’re all sitting on him like that.” Came the voice of what Grian assumed was the king. He almost blew up the King of who knows where and- and- panic rose up in his chest, the weight of the guards on his lungs the only thing keeping him from hyperventilating.
“Fine, let him up but keep him restrained.” The gruff voice said.
Grian felt the weight lift, but the dagger didn’t move from his neck. His arms were held behind his back, and he was forced up into a kneeling position. He felt blood trickle down his brow and into his eyes. He must have hit his head when he was knocked to the ground.
Squinting up, he was met by the smiling face of a well-dressed man. He wore a fine silk shirt and many golden rings, his shirt was unbuttoned way too low, and his brown hair was a bit greasy and disheveled, though that might have been a styling choice. He also had a lot of scars; on his face and hands, and arms, poking out from under his rolled-up sleeves or the collar of his shirt. Next to the scarred King was the owner of the gruff voice, an armored man with the symbol of a bee on his armor and an insignia that looked like it denoted rank. Behind them, Grian could see another guard helping the guard who had taken the brunt of the explosion out of his armor. It looked like he was alive but just barely; his armor had probably saved him.
“He almost killed you,” The gruff man said, drawing his sword, “I should execute him right here.”
“Now, Captain Bubbles, let's not be too hasty. I want to hear what this man has to say for himself,” The scarred noble said, turning to Grian with a lopsided grin.
Grian stared at him in shock, his mind racing. What was he supposed to say? What could he say? They were going to kill him. Was he going to die like this? He was at Scar's mercy.
His panicked breathing stilled, and an artificial calm came over him. T here was nothing he could do. He was at Scar’s mercy. In this moment, he had no control. None-
Grian looked up and met Scar’s eyes. “My life is in your hands.”
Scar raised his brow, then leaned back and laughed, “I like this one.” He grinned. He always seemed to be smiling. Grian wasn’t sure he trusted it.
Captain Bubbles scowled.
“You know what, let's make a deal. I spare your life. In exchange, you swear your life to me till the day you die. The choice is yours.” The man grinned that lopsided grin, and there was a flash of something behind his eyes.
Grian’s head swelled. For the rest of his life? In service to this man who he knew nothing about. But it wasn’t like he even had a choice; the alternative was he died here and now.
Grian bowed his head, “My life is yours till the day I die.”
“Wonderful,” Scar clapped his hands together. “You can let him go now,” He said, helping Grian up to his feet and brushing him off. “Oh, that doesn't look too good,” he fussed at the cut on Grians forehead, handing him an embroidered handkerchief. Grian took it and pressed it to the cut staring vacantly off into the distance, still too shocked to process what just happened- or maybe he had a concussion. “So what should I call you, because failed assassin doesn’t sit quite right,” Scar chuckled.
Grian blinked and looked at Scar, “Oh, right, my name’s Grian.”
“Wonderful, a pleasure to be working with you, I’m sure.” Scar grinned, and Grian flinched. His head hurt, his wings hurt, and everything felt sore and bruised.
The next couple of minutes were a blur. They treated the injured guard. Someone found the spooked horse and managed to calm it down, Grian found out its name was Pizza for some reason, then Grian and the injured guard were allowed to ride on the horse for the rest of the trip.