Chapter Text
Lying to the faes is practically nonexistent. They're all knowing beings able to see mortal’s lies while being unable to lie themselves. Grian knew that. So how the hell did he get away with being called “the jewel of avia”. He wasn't the jewel of anything. That was Jimmy or Pearl's department. Hell, most of all their eldest sister, Lizzies’. So how did he get here, being draped in fine silks, paraded around like some kind of wispy, silky, overly pampered parrot??
Standing outside the doors of what he could only assume as the throne room, he feels this cold, hard stone settle and make a home in the depths of his stomach.
‘Surely the cursed heir of Anima shall take one look at me and dismiss me. Sending himself raging up and down the halls, sentencing me to death for their “majesties” trickery.’
The chief confidant has called my name and title a good while ago. Perhaps they think I've run off to some foreign country, where I can spend the rest of my days in solitude instead of war politics.
“Prince grian, the gentle, the sacred jewel of avia”
What a statement. Gentle, yes that describes me perfectly. Although you cannot easily hand over an avian as a war prize with a nickname such as “pesky”. I think it's just what they thought was the most appealing. A pretty little lap bird with a doormat personality and no inkling of rebelling or wanting something different in this world. And again with the “jewel of avia”. Like my sandy brown hair that's brittle beyond comparison, with pitch black eyes that remind men of the void of death. Yes, the jewel indeed. Compared to my siblings I am the most tarnished piece of rusty iron amongst their glittering opals and diamonds. All I can give them is the hope that they marry for love and not as a tool to keep the cursed heir and the faes as a whole off their radar as a potential threat.
Ah well, time to face the music. My funeral music. My last march.
—----- before things went to shit—-------
—----Grian—----
Avia is a simple place. Quiet, peaceful, like one giant bird nest in the sky. Flying is of course, the calling card of the avians, and what better place to do so.
Which Grian could be doing right now, if it weren't for Pearl.
He’s had a lovely day so far. Woke up, woke up Jimmy with pots and pans, worked on his hexes, stretched…the works. So why, when perched atop his favorite oak tree just outside the palace, did pearl tell him the queen and king needed him immediately? The king and queen never needed him for anything outside of the annual public appearances in court. They leave him to his tower with his odd friend and spells. It's not like grain would be able to just fly away.
Not for very long at least.
“You called for me, your majesties?”
Now, fun fact. These royals are not Grian’s parents. They're not any of his siblings' parents either. These are the next of kin, the ones that took pity on him and his three siblings, seeking opportunity in the face of their own infertility and age.
“Ah, Grian, sweetheart, how are your studies progressing.”
His aunt, Queen Ira of avia, is a majestic woman with long deep brown hair, and the gentlest, blue eyes reflecting the crystal blue sea that resides below of Avia’s resting grounds. She has a porcelain, doll-like aura about her, which Grian knows is always artificial. He knows all she cares about is image and how she can make men do what she pleases, despite being married to the king, Grian’s uncle. It was considered a great shame and scandal when it was discovered that she could not produce an heir, most likely saved from death by her unattainable beauty, and luckily before the scandal was released to the public, Grian and his siblings came along, offering a much opportunistic, more altruistic alternative to all of their problems.
“They are progressing fine, queen mother.”
Grian answered, a twinge most annoying in his back, where two phantom limbs can be felt. A digging sensation underneath his skin that makes him want to claw at his back until blood and disgusting viscera are poured onto their majesty’s silken robes, the stuffed zealous peacocks they are. Maybe then he will be deemed disgusting and worthless enough to be left alone.
“Ah yes, how's that little lowlife, commoner, engineer of yours?”
His uncle says, clearly intoxicated so early in the day. Hasn't he been taught that it's tacky to day-drink and it's rude to talk about other people in that way?
He of course means Mumbo. A genius in all instances of the word, except for money, influence, greed, and power. These tiny little digs about the happiest parts of grian's life make his blood boil and his back burn. He wishes that he could have kept two boxes in his life, one where he is truly happy, and one he must suffer with for short periods of time. But alas, life can never be that simple, a truth only truly faced when his tower didn't have bars and he chose to fall instead of soar.
“He is just fine, your majesty. But forgive me, if all you needed from me was this, we could have discussed this over dinner.”
a dinner where his siblings were, where Lizzie, and Pearl could distract from the situation, and Jimmy could better his mood. A dinner where he didn't feel scrutinized among the constant distractions his siblings present. It allows him to slip into the shadows and simply watch.
“Clever child, you always want to cut straight to the chase. A war threat was put upon us. The letter was received this morning. The cursed prince of Anima is hungry for blood and carnage. He demands a bride from a kingdom. A Jewel. A model of grace and gentleness. A scion for an heir.” the king says, his face sobering in a mere instant. Grian’s pulse fell silent, not a breath could be heard in the room suddenly. The dias seems miles away and he can feel his own heartbeat in his feet.
“W-what does this have to do with me?” grian stammered, fearing what he already knows to be true.
“You are going, you have no choice. There is no other viable option”
“B-but, I am not a jewel…why not send a Pearl? Or Lizzie” Grian said, desperate to escape his responsibilities like he's done so many times before.
“Lizzie has been courted by the prince of the south for 6 months now. He's been approved for marriage and Lizzie will be a queen. Pearl is beautiful, but cannot scion an heir. You know this. You can. You will go to the cursed heir and become his blushing bride. The letter has already been sent this morning. You will become the jewel of Avia or all of our people will fall to hordes of vex, werewolves, vampires, and other nightmares that spew forth of Anima.”
“No, please your majesty you can't, I cannot sire an heir, I refuse, I refuse…” Grian pleaded, losing his balance, tears welling in his eyes, turning to looking to his aunt, her eyes glassed over and distant, like she's already mourned his death and is merely just watching his ghost.
“INSOLENT BOY” the king snapped, striking Grian on the cheek “DID I NOT GIVE YOU AND YOUR PATHETIC SIBLINGS A ROOF UNDER YOUR HEAD? YOU WHOLE PURPOSE IS TO FURTHER OUR KINGDOM, FURTHER OUR PEOPLE. IT IS DECIDED. YOU WILL MARRY THE CURSED FAE. YOU WILL SAVE US ALL. IT IS ABOUT TIME YOUR PATHETIC SELF BE USEFUL FOR SOMETHING TO THIS KINGDOM.”
his majesty roars, breath pungent with the wine hes been drinking for god knows how long.
As Grian shakily takes a stand, he considers his options. One, he runs as he's hunted for sport for his insolence and abandonment of his responsibilities, two, he accepts and seals the deal of his imminent death when he arrives in Anima and is killed for not being beautiful enough for the cursed prince.
“Understood, your majesty.”
Grian says shakily, pivoting and scurrying away before he may be subject to more yelling, or worse, a beating he witnessed Pearl endure one time.
Escaping through the heavy doors of the throne room was the breath of fresh relief that he oh so desperately needed.
‘They have given me a death sentence. My ultimate purpose. Dear god, what am I to do…’
Grian tried grasping, “i could wear a veil, something to cover my hideous, dull eyes, or just be so utterly swamped in ceremonial garbs that they cannot make heads or tails of this supposed ‘jewel’ that is to be the pet bird the cursed prince will possess to feel power over something.”
‘how in the world am i going to be passed off as a jewel, its not like i have any real wings to display.’ he thought bitterly, his back burning, screaming in pain and longing, the cold stone in his stomach somehow sinking into him deeper, growing spikes that cut into him and make him feel as if it shall never be removed. That he shall never have a true respite to the horrific fate he is to be resigned to.
He arrives at the tower, climbing the stairs, finding no energy to make the trek any easier via his magic. He barely has the energy to keep himself from letting the wild magic that infests him break loose and eradicate anything in a ten-foot radius, which their majesties wouldn't take kindly to a hole being blown into the side of their precious image.
While trekking up the stairs, feeling heavier and heavier as he progresses. Grian has only one thought, his limbs lethargic and back a dull thrum of pain.
‘How much longer do i have with my family…?’
Even when given an assignment, he will always have information carefully kept from him.
He hates royalty.