Chapter Text
The first story they gave him was The Ugly Duckling.
Something simple, short and sweet for his age.
They had him read it three times so could get used to the plot and quizzed him on things like the story’s themes and morals and character development. He was a smart kid – always did his best to be smarter than all the others – he got every question right.
He remembers that very first time he used his key vividly.
It was a strange and nauseating feeling, watching his surroundings blend and twist together into nothing before expanding to form something so bright and new but… off in a way that could only be described as ‘not real’.
He remembers that first time waking up in an egg. Hearing his own heartbeat as an all encompassing sound that was both in, out and all around him. Seeing the light filtered by the shell through his tightly closed eyelids. Being virtually the same but at the same time so different, like being in control of two bodies at the same time. One being the normal version of himself while the other was so small and wet and fluffy.
He knew his role, he knew how to follow the rules and the second he hatched he made sure to lay on all the acting skills his elders prepared him with. He was a bully sister. He teased and excluded the protagonist while quietly cheering him on inside.
And when his temporary brother grew into a beautiful swan, he acted remorseful and apologetic for his actions while the protagonist flew off to be with his new flock.
And when the story concluded with everything said and done, the elders flipped the book back to the first page and had him start again.
Everytime he went in, he woke up as a different sister who mocked her brother for different things. One time for his feathers, another for his voice and a seperate time for his abnormally large height.
He learned a lot from that first time. He learned that despite it being the same simple story, each sister had their own little personalities to adapt to. Each restart providing him with more knowledge on the characters thoughts and motivations.
It was an enlightening experience, although if he really thought about it, maybe the reason he remembered his first time so intensely was his final read. The only time he didn’t wake up inside the egg and instead came in looking down at them.
The first time he met the boy, it was with extreme caution.
Afterall, the newcomer was an anomaly. A threat disguised in heavy layers of confidence, charisma and feigned nonchalance, like a wolf in sheep's clothing, like Robin Hood trying to get into the royalty’s good graces so he could steal their wealth.
Except maybe the boy was just trying to make him let his guard down or something of the sort. Not that he was an expert or anything but as someone who’d acted through many roles of manipulation, he was pretty sure one had to interact with the subject if you wanted to get anywhere with them, let alone in their good graces.
And that was the thing! The boy never sought him out, never looked for trouble. All he did was show up for the last act, put on the most lackluster performance that he had ever seen – which was saying something since he had watched Alfred miserably flunk their drama class finals – and then just left!
The boy was obviously up to something, he just had to figure out what. And he couldn’t do that unless he confronted him.
His elders told him how imperative it was for him to recover the key before the boy did anything catastrophic. It was now his responsibility to uncover the boy’s whereabouts and take him out of the game completely.
And so without much of a choice, ignoring all his instincts screaming that the boy was a dangerous threat that he needed to stay far away from, he marched up to him instead.
He would put on his brave face and grab the boy by that bright colorful jacket in his fists and show him that he was not afraid. He would demand answers and he would get that key.
So, sometimes in life, it was common for people to… misjudge somebody’s character.
It was a thing that happened often, whether it was due to a misleading first impression or a pre-existing misconception they already had of the person before they even met. Mistakes like that were bound to occur, just a natural experience in life to learn from.
It still smarts though.
Especially because it hadn’t happened to him yet. How could it? The Ex Libris had trained him as the best of his class. His whole job revolved around reading things right!
And yet somehow he had royally screwed this one up. Managed to confuse the text as cleverly crafted satire instead of the very bad writing that it clearly was.
He didn’t want to get into details but he would say this: ‘like Robin Hood his ass.’
Sometimes if it walks like a duck and quacks like a duck, it’s because it’s a duck!
Just as the boy turned out to just be a regular idiot.
The aloofness and irregular working patterns? Yeah, no. That was just due to the boy’s lack of interest in the stories apparently.
All of them. Every single one he chose. Which raised the question of why he was choosing them in the first place if he wasn’t even enjoying them?!
Did he have a thing for the climax of these fairytales? No, obviously not. Did he enjoy pissing the Ex Libris boy off to the point where when he went to bed every night he dreamed of just dropping the hat and quitting so someone else could take this burden off his hands? Yes, it seemed so.
From the moment he made his presence known, it was like war had broken out between them.
One (usually him but he had an excuse and that excuse was that it was his job) would create a ploy to annoy or disturb the other and then they would retaliate in a similar (oftentimes less intense) manner.
Schemes followed by fist fights followed by other schemes followed by avoidance and so on.
It was annoying and tedious. But not for the reasons one might assume.
He was the villainess for Christ sake! He was supposed to make problems for the heroine and then she was supposed to defeat them in a heroic and dignified manner.
And the reason he was so angry was because he wasn’t like that!
He didn’t have the training nor the discipline nor the personality to properly handle his key and it showed.
Every time he did something petty the heroine wasn’t even meant to deign him with a response, she was supposed to outsmart him and come out on top. She was supposed to be better than him, not stoop down to his level!
If the boy was going to stick his nose where it didn’t belong, the least he could do was do it right. But he didn’t, and every time the boy would use the narrative’s filter to slack off on his dialogue or choose to ignore certain characters or neglect to do actions that weren’t directly tied to the plot (the small amount of plot he was actually present for) it would make his blood boil in a way it seldom did before.
(If he were to ever make those mistakes, he’d be punished. If he were to ever disobey in such a way, they’d make him bleed.)
And maybe that was the gist of it all. Maybe things could be a little bit easier if he actually had a proper opponent. Someone who’d play the game he was already familiar with so it could be easier to win.
And so they made a bet.