Chapter Text
Nobody really wants to be the black sheep of their family.
Micro certainly didn’t.
“Look,” Jophiel stood, her skirts swirling and settling at her ankles. She held out a hand, perfectly poised. “Let’s try etiquette instead for a bit, okay? Greet me like a lady of the court.”
Micro grit his teeth. Why are you only stupid when it comes to me? He wanted to ask, but instead he stood as well, taking her hand and bowing over it. “My lady.”
She raised an eyebrow. Right, he had to keep going. “Um, how was-”
She snatched her hand away. “Micro! We do not say ‘um,’ this is supposed to be second nature to you!”
Princes don’t shout. He grabbed the bottom of his jacket, twisting it. “Clearly, it isn’t.”
“Ok,” she looked down, face falling when she saw what he was doing. She took his hand again, clasping it in both of hers. “I’m sorry, I reacted too quickly. You were doing well. Let’s try again?”
He swallowed, wishing he could fidget with something. Her grip was supposed to be comforting, but it always felt suffocating. What was it royalty said when they wanted to scream? “I think I’m a bit tired, actually. Tomorrow?”
She only looked sadder. Shit, was she the one that taught him that? “Very well.” She let go only to pull him into a hug. She smelled like fine myrrh and lavender. “Try to work on your Latin? Those exercises shouldn’t be too hard, I can go over them with you tomorrow before your tutor comes in.”
“Yeah, that will be nice.” They both knew they’d all be wrong. She squeezed him a little lighter anyway before finally releasing him.
“I love you, little brother,” she said with a soft smile that surely sent suitors falling at her feet. Micro’s was weak in comparison.
“Love you too,” he said, and watched her walk out the door.
He just stood there for a bit after. Sometimes he felt like he didn’t exist in the in-between times, where his siblings or tutors were busy and he was just alone in his royal quarters. Other times it felt like the only time he existed at all.
Papers lay sprawled across the table at his right. He looked at them, shuddering. He’s been trying to grasp the Latin tenses for months now. Just the thought of sitting there again and working on Jophiel’s exercises made the steadily growing ache behind his temples pound.
He knocked on the door instead, opening it just enough to see the guards stationed there. “Something for a headache, please.” He mumbled. The men nodded, one of them taking off at once. Micro closed the door again. Occasionally, he tried to actually talk to them, but they were very good guards. They didn’t exactly care about his loneliness, more for his physical safety.
Not that anyone would actually try to kill him. He wasn’t sure the kingdom knew he existed.
His quarters were quite nice, at least. He sank into the couch near the fireplace, covering his eyes. The silence was nice for his headache. Some days, he despised the quiet so much that he spoke to himself or sang songs he read in books. His voice was terribly off-key to Jophiel’s great chagrin, but only the guards and himself suffered the consequences, so he didn’t really care. Today though he sank into the cushions, listening to the steady crackle of the fire. The usual thoughts came creeping in (Jophiel’s disappointed face, his tutor’s sharp words, the last thing his parents said to him, so many months ago when they lived in the same damn castle) but he pushed them aside as much as he could. The fire felt nice. Maybe he could ask for a dog, someday.
The door opened, accompanied by the clatter of a serving platter.
“Hey Micro!”
He smiled, looking over to see a young woman struggling to place the platter without disrupting the papers. “Hey, Gray.”
He was pretty sure his parents appointed Gray as his servant because she was related to one of Sap’s friends, and therefore would be a good influence. If so, they were so wrong.
“Do you really have a headache again?” She complained, finally just dropping the platter on the papers, no doubt smudging Jophiel’s carefully inked notes. “It’s every day with you, seriously. You’re so annoying.”
He stretched, hiding a grin. “You’re the worst servant in the world.”
“Uh-huh, whatever.” She turned, holding a cup, but then paused. A small smile credit on her lips. “You look a lot like them when you relax like that.”
For some reason, irritation rose in him at her words. He stood, shaking off the ghosts of his siblings and grabbing the cup from her hands. It was the same tea as always, sage, rosemary and lavender, meant to reduce stress. The entire family loved it, so surely he did as well. He hid a grimace at the floral taste, drinking more. Gray turned away, fiddling with the platter, and when he put the cup down again she wordlessly dropped in a few more sugar cubes.
“Wanna play knucklebones?” She asked, and he felt the tension in his shoulders relax.
“Oh my god, yes.”
They set up in front of the fireplace, sitting on the floor like children. Gray dragged a blanket off the couch, throwing it over his head and giggling when he struggled to escape. He threw a bone at her when he finally did and she just giggled more, adding it to the pile with the others and tossing him the ball.
“Is Saps coming tonight?” She asked. Micro shrugged, bouncing the ball and snatching a handful of bones before it fell back into his hand.
“I don’t know, probably? He didn’t say he couldn’t last night.” That hadn’t really been what Micro was focusing on after their talk yesterday, but he didn’t tell Gray that. It felt like if he said it, it would never happen. “Here,” the ball bounced again into her lap. She took it, sitting up.
“There’s nothing scheduled for tonight so he better,” she said, playing her own round. “I got five, you?”
“Six,” he took the ball, grabbing five more. “I don’t know, he gets busy sometimes.”
“Six for me this time. Do you want me to ask? It seems like you could use him.”
“Four,” there were three left, all distanced from each other. He kept his eyes on them, tossing her the ball. “I don’t need him.”
“Hmm.” She grabbed one, throwing the ball back. “Sure, you don’t. I’ll ask anyway.”
He grabbed the last two. The bones were knobbly, misshapen in his palm. He ran his finger over them, catching on the edges. “Thank you.”
They only got in a few more rounds before the door opened again, one of the guards calling out: “Miss Gray? Your presence is needed in the kitchens.”
“Thank you!” Gray called back before standing, poking Micro in the cheek as she passed him. “Drink the rest of your tea, ghost boy,” she said. “I’ll be back for dinner, okay?”
Don’t go, he thought, and smiled back. “Yeah, thanks Gray.”
“Anything for you, my prince,” she said with a silly little curtsy, almost falling over. Micro laughed at the sight, and she grinned in reply and slipped out the door.
He drank the tea, adding in enough sugar to mask the taste. Maybe it did alleviate stress, because his headache was gone. He even worked through a few of the exercises, not having anything else to do. At least he’d have something to show Jophiel, although he was pretty sure he’d started using the wrong past tense at one point. He couldn’t bring himself to care much. Latin was hard, Saps always treated the papers like they were cursed, even though he spoke it fluently now. The entire royal family did, barring one.
Micro put the quill down.
He played knucklebones again. It was kind of boring to play alone, but everything was boring. Gray delivered dinner but had to run again soon after, so he ate alone, staring at the words on the paper and trying to convince himself he understood them.
It was dark when the doors opened again.
Saps walked with the same grace that Jophiel did, but less elegance. He smiled at everyone, but Micro liked to think he smiled more when he saw him, running forward to pull him into a hug. Micro returned it, the touch warm.
Saps leaned in closer, mischief in his voice as he whispered: “Remember what we talked about last night?”
Micro’s heart skipped a beat. “You mean-”
“Just one night,” Saps interrupted. “I arranged everything, here,” he pulled away, thrusting a pack into Micro’s chest. His dark eyes were glittering. “Travel clothes, plus a hood to cover your hair. You look too much like me, little brother. The hair gives us away. Are you ready to see the city?”
“Holy shit.”
Saps laughed at the curse, and Micro scrambled to pull out the clothing, shaking out a long yellow cloak and throwing it over his shoulders. “What about the guards?”
“Flux will distract them, he’s had plenty of practice.” Saps leaned against the wall, hands in his pockets. “Gray and Thomas will meet us outside, Gray insisted on joining us when I told her.”
Two leather boots fell out of the pack with dual thuds. Micro pulled them on, lacing them tightly as they were a bit big. “I’ve never met Thomas, Gray talks so much about him.”
Saps shrugged. “He’s cool. You ready?”
Was he? The knucklebones lay scattered on the floor, a mess he was waiting to be bored enough to clean. The ink was still wet on his Latin work, each answer waiting to be scratched out and corrected by Jophiel’s careful hand. Or one of his tutor’s, he barely remembered their names at this point.
What was the city like? He spent so many hours at his windows but could really only see the gardens. Were the people nice? He almost hoped they weren’t, imagined the freedom that came with cursing someone out without shaming his entire family. They probably laughed loudly and spat in the dirt and slouched and could just wander off whenever they wanted. They could see the forests, the fields, the sea.
He clasped the cloak onto his shoulder. His fingers were shaking, so it took a few tries.
“I’m ready.”