#annyanimous

---

No one had expected it to be simple. Well, except for Nora, and for Nora it was pretty simple. But considering that their entrance exam had consisted of divebombing a Grimm-infested forest and fighting their way out, no one was surprised when their impromptu midterms were very much the same.

“A sudden influx of Grimm has invaded the Emerald Forest,” Professor Goodwych had announced that morning. “While this is very unexpected, preliminary surveillance has shown that the situation, while urgent, is not critical. We have decided that it is, in fact, an ideal opportunity to evaluate your progress as Huntsmen and Huntresses in training.” She had closed her scroll and stared at them all severely over the rims of her spectacles. “We suspect that previously-undetected nests of young Grimm may be the cause of this. Please keep in mind when dealing with these young that age is not an indicator of how dangerous a Grimm is. In any case, Professor Ozpin, several members of the staff, and myself will be keeping an eye on your performance, and evaluating you on fighting skill, teamwork, decision-making, and, for some of you, leadership skills.” Her austere gaze had swept over Ruby, Jaune, Cardin, and the other team leaders before her. Ruby had been bouncing on the balls of her feet, grinning from ear to ear. Jaune had swallowed nervously, despite the reassuring smile from Pyrrha, the rough nudge from Nora that had probably been meant as a reassurance, and the deadpan look from Ren that was anyone's guess. The hulking leader of CRDL had simply smirked in response while his teammates exchanged knowing grins.

“Remaining with your teams is a requirement,” Professor Ozpin had added. “Remember, we established them for a reason. However, if you wish to work together with other teams, feel free.” The headmaster of Beacon smiled cheerfully. “As Professor Goodwych said, teamwork here is key. There are a lot of Grimm out there.”

Dove and Sky had snorted at this. Ruby had caught Jaune's eye and given him an eager thumbs-up, to which Jaune had looked a bit less nervous and a little more confident.

Not half an hour later, here they were, near the foot of a sheer cliff, close enough to see the opening of a cave that Jaune and Pyrrha had apparently recognized.

Ruby's head spun almost as much as her scythe did. The battle was complete and utter chaos; she and Yang were surrounded by a pack of Beowolves, which shouldn't have been too much of a problem, but a good portion of Ruby's attention was constantly elsewhere. Weiss was skipping over their heads, using her shining glyphs as stepping stones. Every now and then, if a Beowolf happened to leap within her reach, she would aim and strike with an explosion of Dust energy. Weiss was all right, Yang was all right (of course she was, when she had her awesome little sister to watch her back), and Ruby was most definitely all right. Blake, on the other hand, was up to her ears in Boarbatusks. And try as Ruby might, she couldn't reach her lone teammate. There were simply too many wolves – if she and Yang took down one, two more would pop into its place.

Ruby blew a lock of hair out of her face with a frustrated huff. Time to delegate. “Weiss!” she yelled. “Yang and I can handle these guys! Can you get to Blake?”

Her friend looked ready to protest for a moment, but she nodded. A line of glyphs led her over the heads of the Beowolf pack, and she dashed along it, leapt down to the back of one of the Boarbatusks, and dropped to the ground not far from Blake. The Faunus sent a slight grin her way before dispatching a monster with Gambol Shroud's blade straight down its throat.

---

Team JNPR stood between Team RWBY and the cave that had once housed a lone Deathstalker. If there was one thing that Jaune didn't have to worry about, it was keeping track of where his team was. Nora was easy to find – one just had to follow the explosions. Rapid gunfire drew his eye to Ren, no farther from Nora than he ever was in a fight. Jaune knew where Pyrrha was; she'd taken a tusk to the leg early on, and he'd had her move to the upper branches of a tree closer to the cliffside. There, she was sniping Grimm with Miló's rifle form. Jaune himself was down on the ground with the first two. He had his shield up, taking blows from Beowulf claws until either an opening allowed him to strike with his sword or one of his teammates took out the offending Grimm for him. Whichever came first.

The Beowolf's paw came around again. Jaune knocked it to the side with his shield, and lunged. His blade sank deep into the Beowolf's stomach, and the beast fell twitching to the ground. Heart pounding, Jaune shot another quick glance around. A few of the Boarbatusks that had previously been attacking Blake and Weiss were now occupying Nora's attention – or amusement, rather. Ren was providing cover fire for her as she ran in, hammer swinging. Deciding they were alright for the moment, Jaune looked toward Team RWBY.

He found Ruby watching him with a wide grin on her face, and she gave him a thumbs up even as she was riddling Beowolves with bullets one-handed. Of course, one of them moved in from the side and pounced.

“Watch it!” he yelled, at the same time as Yang called out, “Ruby, duck!” The younger girl dropped to a crouch automatically, only looking up and noticing the the Grimm after it had leapt too high. Her scythe swung up in an arc and sliced the beast cleanly in two, and she was out from under it before its carcass had landed.

Jaune had little time to marvel at his friend's speed. Two Ursa had burst upon the scene, only adding to the chaos. A quick glance to Pyrrha told him that she was concentrating her fire on the larger beast. The second was smaller, quicker – and heading straight for his other teammates.

One of its paws swung around as it charged, its enormous claws heading straight for Ren's unprotected back. Jaune readied his shield and charged.

“Behind you!” he yelled. Ren whipped around, just as Jaune sprang between him and the Ursa and caught the thing's claws on his shield. They scraped harmlessly off the polished surface, and Jaune drove his sword into its body, right where its foreleg met its shoulder.

The Ursa roared, threw itself around, and began galloping back the way it had come – toward the cave. The blade of Crocea Mors was caught fast in its body, and Jaune had a death grip on the hilt that he was too panicked to release. As it passed Pyrrha's tree, he wailed aloud with dismay. He was nearly at the cave when a familiar red-gold javelin slammed point-first into the beast's back, but the Ursa kept going, mad with pain and dying. Jaune barely managed to yank the spear out and toss it back in Pyrrha's general direction before they entered the cave, and everything around him went dark.

---

Ruby knew that frightened wailing anywhere. By impaling two Beowolves on her scythe blade, she managed to buy herself enough time to look over her shoulder and see the backside of an Ursa vanishing into the cave. Ren was giving chase, but a larger second Ursa managed to bat him away before going down under Pyrrha's rifle fire.

“Watch out!”

“Ursa cubs! Coming this way!”

Russel Thrush and Sky Lark came plowing through the Grimm that RWBY and JNPR were collectively fighting. For a moment Ruby could only stare, dumbfounded, as a small horde of half-grown Ursae galloped after them, snapping at their heels. To the credit of Cardin's two teammates, they carved a considerable path through the Beowolves and Boarbatusks. On the other hand, they continued running while the young Ursae turned their attention to the other two teams.

On top of it all, Ruby could still hear Jaune's panicked screaming, as muffled and distant as it was now.

Yang sent a cub flying with a single punch, but it rolled over, got back to its feet, and charged again alongside the rest of them.

“Oh, great!” Weiss's disgust rang out even as her glyphs lit up the forest. “Thanks a lot, boys, that was really helpful!”

“Seriously!” Yang granted temporary flight to several cubs this time, all of which Pyrrha picked out of the air with well-placed rifle shots. “Man, these things just – keep – coming, don't they?”

The recoil from one of Magnhild's shots sent both Nora and her hammer spinning through the air toward them, kicking up a veritable tornado of Beowolves and Ursa cubs. “Wheeeeeee!”

Ren, of course, wasn't far behind, as harried as he looked. “Nora!”

She stuck the landing and turned a few more circles to use up her momentum and ward off dizziness. “Just a minute, Ren!”

“We have to get to that cave!” Pyrrha yelled out, as a gang of the Ursa cubs crowded in front of it. “Jaune's inside!”

Ruby felt her heart sink with dread. “Pyrrha, what happened?”

“He got dragged in by that Ursa,” Ren said grimly. He had holstered one of his guns so he could keep his free hand on Nora's arm.

There was one Beowolf left, snarling at Ruby as it prepared to charge. Before either Ruby or the creature could attack first, Blake swung in and sliced through it with a cleave from her scabbard's edge. “Is he still screaming?” she asked dryly.

“Guuuuys! Guys, oh God, help me! Noooohoohoooo!”

Yang rotated her finger in her ear. “I think that's a yes.”

“The cave's blocked the cave's blocked!” Worryingly, Jaune's voice was accompanied by the shrieks and growls of Grimm, and lots of them. “HURRY UP WHY ARE THERE SO MANY OH GOD NO GET OFF.”

“You heard the man!” Pyrrha urged. “We have to get inside that cave!”

Ruby could hear Weiss muttering under her breath as she bounded over their heads on her glyphs. “Oh for love of–” There was an explosion of red Dust, and two Ursa cubs fell dead to the side while another staggered away, injured, until Pyrrha finished it off with one bullet.

“Weiss, Blake!” Ruby called out. Weiss sprang back toward her, out of the way of a charging Boarbatusk. Ruby never actually saw Blake move to stand by her; the Faunus girl was simply there, waiting for Ruby to lead. “Yang and I will focus on pushing forward. Keep an eye on our backs, okay?”

“Fair enough,” Blake answered, while Weiss simply nodded.

Jaune, in the meantime, was still alive and letting everyone know about it. “Aaarrrrrgggghh MORE OF THEM?!” he howled from inside the cave. “No no no, GET AWAY FROM ME! GUUYYYYS!”

On Team JNPR's side of things, they were managing well enough with Jaune absent. Nora was running point, rushing the bands of Grimm with her hammer swinging. Ren covered her back – pretty much the same game plan as RWBY had, divided by two. Pyrrha shifted her weight on her injured leg and reloaded her rifle.

The Ursa cubs were deceptively difficult, just as tough as adults and several times as fast. Ruby felt teeth in her calf before she even saw the miniature monster lunge at her. She cried out, but the creature was too close for her to swing her scythe properly and she wasn't sure there was time to switch it to gun form –

Before her eyes, the Ursa's body practically exploded, hit from either side simultaneously by a shot from Yang's gauntlet, and another from Ren's gun. The monster's jaws flew open, releasing her leg, and Ruby slammed her scythe down into the body of the next one she saw.

Dimly, through the haze of adrenaline, she could hear Yang's voice. “Ruby, get back!”

“I'm fine!” she yelled back, and promptly stumbled. Maybe not. Reluctantly she limped back, searching around for white. “Weiss, push forward!”

“Already on it.” Her teammate dropped from a glyph into her place before the monsters in front of the cave had the chance to take the lost ground.

The Grimm were already severely depleted, and most of them stood between the two teams and the cave, so it was little trouble for Ruby to make her way to the foot of Pyrrha's tree. Jaune's panicked screaming was still audible from inside the cave, which was a good sign. At least he wasn't dead yet.

“Get off my leg get off my leg get off mY LEG OH GOD NO WHY.”

From the foot of the tree, Ruby picked off monsters all around the five frontrunners. Her leg throbbed, but it wasn't too bad – baby Ursa teeth were small, and she didn't have to worry about stopping to bind it just yet.

And then Yang was through, and Jaune had fallen silent.. Ruby saw her sister's bright hair vanish into the shadows of the cave, and dashed forward without thinking. Nora was close behind Yang, with Ren slipping between two cubs to stay at her side. Ruby limped rapidly forward, raised her scythe, and dispatched the two monsters with one swing. Weiss and Blake finished off the last of the cubs, and one final Boarbatusk fell to Pyrrha's Miló before Ruby limped into the cave. She thought she heard Weiss yell at her, but her thoughts were on Jaune. There was a dead Ursa not far past the cave mouth, presumably the one that had dragged Jaune inside, and she hobbled around it, nearly tripping over its massive forepaw.

The fiery glow of Yang's aura lit her way, and she found her sister standing motionless further inside. Ren and Nora were beside her, and they were stock-still, side by side, staring at something that Ruby couldn't see yet. The cave was silent, and Ruby felt her heart drop as she joined them. Behind her, she heard Weiss and Blake catch up.

She stopped, too. And gaped.

An entire nest's worth of Ursa cubs lay dead on the floor. Two adults were among them, one of them nearly beheaded entirely. There were more Grimm monsters than Ruby could count on both hands, and not a single one was still alive.

Jaune stood in the middle of the carnage, his sword still raised and gripped in both hands. His chest heaved with each breath, and his body glowed with his aura.

The leader of JNPR stared at them, his eyes wide as saucers.

---

Geoff might have nipped it in the bud, had he been halfway paying attention. It was equally possible that he might have allowed it, or even participated in it; in any case, he probably would have liked to have a say in the matter. But Gavin, for all his stumbling and strange noises and complete lack of subtlety, could be a sneaky bastard if he put his mind to it and was very very lucky. He was grinning to himself as their lunch hour began, and he turned his head to catch Michael's eye. The American half of Team Nice Dynamite raised an eyebrow at him, and Gavin answered the silent question with a winning smile. Michael smirked. Behind him, Ray had noticed the silent exchange, and leaned over a bit with a curious furrow of his eyebrows. Gavin stood up from his desk to excuse himself.

“Sorry, Geoff, I've left something in your car,” he said, without lying. “Could I borrow your keys?”

Geoff looked incredibly reluctant, but nonetheless handed his car keys over – the last time he'd tossed something for Gavin to catch, they had nearly demolished Millie's art project along with half the living room. “I swear to God, if you lose them, I'll kick your dick inside out.”

Gavin threw him a mock salute and darted out of the office, though not before he shot another quick, conspiratorial look in Michael's direction. Then he was out the door and in the parking lot, the key ring twirling around his index finger. His grin was positively manic by then, as he unlocked the back of Geoff's car and leaned in.

Who knew that the Ramsey household contained this many balls? Ping pong balls, of course. And foam stress balls, and rubber bouncy balls. It had been quite the task just to collect all of them, find an appropriately sized container to fit them all, and smuggle it into the back of Geoff's car the night before. But, against all odds, he had pulled it off. ...With some help, of course. Help of the small, eager, eight-year-old variety. It was nice, having an accomplice.

Michael was waiting just inside when Gavin jogged back to the building. He had moved the two absolutely useless chairs – well, not quite useless, since they'd contributed to a lovely little RT Life video back in April and were about to contribute to another. He'd dragged one a few feet away from the wall and closer to the door, and the other across the lobby to the short hallway that led to the stairs and the rest of the building, away from the Achievement Hunter office. The door to the office was ajar, and Gavin could just see the lens of a camera peeking out, poised to record the coming event.

“Got 'em,” Gavin murmured, rather unnecessarily since he was holding the plastic tub of balls in plain view. “Think we should've told Ray?”

“Nahh, you never know.” Michael's eyes shifted from side to side. “Better if less people know about it, right? He'll find out anyway.”

“Yeah, I guess so.” Gavin hefted the tub. “Where is he?”

“Talking to Barbara.” Michael smiled devilishly. “Don't worry, we'll get his attention.”

“Geoff?”

“Getting coffee.”

“Top. So how do we divide these up? Do we just–”

Before he could finish his question, Michael had snatched the tub from his hands and dashed back to the hallway to duck behind the chair, ignoring Gavin's indignant “Nooo, Michael!” Moments later, Michael popped up from behind the chair like a Wack-a-Mole, and promptly nailed Gavin in the forehead with a well-aimed ping pong ball. Gavin squawked and ducked between the glass door and the previously useless chair, just in time to avoid the oncoming deluge. Michael's raucous laughter echoed in the room, and a grinning Gavin dove for the balls that his friend had hurled at him. Might as well build up his arsenal.

His first projectile missed; he misjudged the weight of a foam stress ball, and sent it sailing well over Michael's head, straight down the short hallway until it bounced off the opposite wall. Gavin ducked quickly, and felt another of Michael's missiles graze the tips of his hair. His squeak of alarm was considerably louder than necessary.

Of course, Ray chose that very moment to step out of the tech office to investigate the noise, and promptly caught two ping pong balls with his face – judging by the low-pitched laughter from the office, their cameraman had caught it. Good.

“What the fuck–” The third lad ducked back into the tech office for a moment, blocking three more balls with the door. Snickering, Gavin took advantage of Michael's focus on Ray to hurl a rubber one at him. It struck Michael's throat with an audible thud, which was followed by a stream of wheezing curses.

“Fuck you Gavin, Jesus!”

Gavin was laughing too hard to see Michael's next ball coming, and it went sailing right into his open mouth. He dove for his arsenal again, and the small spherical projectiles flew back and forth across the lobby.

The door to the tech office opened again, and Ray came hurtling through no man's land with a battle cry of “Bitches ain't shit!” Balls bounced off him from both directions, and he laughed and swore until he was across the room. He shoved his way into the AH office, nearly knocking out Ryan, who had been holding the camera from behind the former safety of the door. Gavin paused in throwing to watch Ray drag his chair in front of the doorway and crouch behind it. He and Michael shared a look, and sent a generous amount of projectiles in their friend's direction.

“Oh, shit, my glasses!” was all Ray said before he was hurling balls back at them. Gavin took a rubber ball to the temple, and turned to aim at Michael just in time to see a stress ball bounce off his curls. He could hear Ryan laughing his ass off from behind Ray in the office – though it might have been Jack. One never knew. Hopefully Ryan was still filming.

A ball from Michael struck Ray squarely between the eyes, and Gavin took the opportunity to hurl another one at Michael's head. He missed entirely, and was too busy laughing at his own mistake to notice Ray recover, grab a ping pong ball, and hurl it at his face. It bounced off his nose, and a fresh wave of mirth sent him doubling up toward the floor, wheezing with laughter. When he looked up again, he was just in time to see one of Michael's rubber balls sail over Ray's head and into the office behind him. There was an audible clatter, and Ryan's laughter jumped an octave.

Ray was losing his shit from behind Gavin's chair. “Oh my God, Gavin, the Queen!”

“No, not the Queen!” Gavin howled. “Michael, how could you!”

“Oh, shit,” Michael managed to say between snickers, and took a ball to the mouth before he had the sense to duck down again.

“Hey Michael, was that the orange ping pong ball?” Ray called over.

Michael was giggling helplessly, but managed a “Yes.”

“You hit me in the teeth with that one!” Ray yelled, punching the air. “That's karma, motherfucker!”

“You two just indirectly kissed,” Gavin snickered, and promptly took two barrages to the face for his comment.

It was then that Geoff rounded the corner behind Michael, returning from the break room with a cup of coffee. He looked all the way across to Gavin, who made eye contact with him and froze with his arm poised to throw one more ball. Michael, apparently noticing the deer-in-the-headlights look on his face, turned to look over his shoulder. A final ping pong ball from Ray bounced off the back of his head.

Geoff simply stared at them, coffee in hand, and blinked a few times. Then, muttering “bitches” under his breath, he turned around and walked the other way.

Michael turned back to stare at Gavin again, and Gavin glanced to Ray, who couldn't have seen Geoff from where he was positioned but could guess what had happened nonetheless.

---

It all began with the Crown Prince's favorite goblet.

It was a nice goblet, too. It'd been a present from Geoff, and as the only damn cup in Michael's possession that was made of pewter instead of gold or silver, it was one of the few that didn't make the wine taste funny and didn't attract the fancy of visiting shithead royals of neighboring kingdoms. Seriously, hospitality was one thing, letting total strangers slobber all over his favorite cup was another. If knights had to bring their own shit out on hunts and patrols, then visiting nobility and royalty could pack their own utensils. Luckily, most of them were fucking snobs who were too good to drink out of a lowly pewter cup, so no one touched it but Michael. Maybe it was stupid, but he liked the fucking thing.

And now it was gone. For the second time that week.

Michael stormed through the castle corridors, his circlet crammed crookedly over his curls. His finery was rumpled, his shirt partially untucked, but at the moment he had somewhat more pressing matters to worry about. “Ryan!”

After years of living in a castle whose grounds (among other things) were kept almost entirely by the one man, Michael knew better than to call twice. He had made it to the next intersecting hallway, his shout still echoing off the stone walls, when the man himself stepped out to his side. “You called, highness?”

Michael scowled – not at Ryan, just in general. “Have you seen my goblet?”

Ryan's eyes flicked to the side once, then back again. “Yes.”

Relief filled him. Thank God for Ryan's uncanny ability to find shit. “Oh, thank fucking Christ, this is the second time I've – fuck it. Where?”

The groundskeeper looked at him as if suspecting a trick question. “In the cupboard where it always is? Where the scullery girl put it, last night?”

The relief promptly vanished. “Well obviously that's the first place I looked!” Michael snapped. “Obviously it's not fucking there anymore, or I wouldn't be losing my goddamn dicks over it!” He paused, exhaling through his nose as he struggled to get his temper under control. “Look, I'm not talking about last fucking night. I'm talking about today.”

“You really should be more specific...” Ryan mused aloud.

“So have you seen it?”

“Not today, no,” Ryan said with a shrug. “Want me to... look for it?”

Always with the pausing, Michael mused. He didn't like the pausing. On the other hand, he did very much like his cup, and wanted it back. “Yeah, sure, fine. Let me know if you find it.”

“Will do.” With that, the groundskeeper was gone again.

Michael heaved a sigh, counted to ten, and then continued counting to thirty because ten wasn't enough. He massaged the corners of his eyes, because it was still midmorning and already promising to be an utterly shitty day. “Jack!” he shouted. This was a bit more of a gamble, since the man in charge of castle maintenance apparently lacked Ryan's ability to teleport.

Apparently, however, luck decided to throw him a bone, because he spotted Jack at another hallway entrance further on, poking his head into the main corridor. “I haven't seen it either, sorry. I'll keep an eye out for it.” He disappeared around the corner again.

“Geoff!”

Jack reappeared. “He's in the cellar, he can't hear you.” He vanished again, before stepping out for one more remark. “You're looking a little ruffled there, Highness, and it's the second time you've lost something this week. Sure you don't need a manservant?”

“Yes, Jack.”

“Michael, you're a Prince. You're gonna need to look a little more presen–”

“Later, Jack,” Michael called back heedlessly, and stormed to the cellar stairs as quickly as he could. Failing Geoff, he'd find Ray, though Michael's hopes weren't high in that area – Ray was a goddamn squire after all, running around doing knight training shit and probably too busy to know the whereabouts of the royal tableware.

Where the fuck was his cup already?

---

The relative emptiness of the torchlit halls and corridors was a blessing. It was often said that the best way to get around in places you weren't supposed to be was to act like you were supposed to be there, and at the moment, Gavin was giggling too hard to manage it.

The pilfered pewter cup was in his hands for the second time that week. The first time had been a trial run – get in, grab something that wasn't his, faff about with it until he got bored, and put it back where he found it. This second time would, hopefully, prove a bit more interesting. Steps three and four had been modified: faff about with it until he found an appropriate new place for it, and put it in said place. With the addition of step five, which was hang about and wait for its owner to notice and react, Gavin's entire day was pretty much set. Because having absolutely no responsibilities was top.

As he wandered aimlessly through the castle, he wondered where he ought to put the cup. What sort of rooms were in a great big bloody castle like this one? The scullery? No, that was no good – it was probably crawling with people. The great hall? Definitely not, too exposed. Someone's bedroom? That was an idea – it might be a laugh to see someone else shouted at for his little prank. Definitely something to consider.

Gavin went to the first door he found and paused, ear cocked and listening for any sound of movement on the other side. When he heard only silence, he cautiously pushed on the door, found it unlocked, and opened it completely.

An armory, apparently. Racks of weapons, hanging shields, that kind of thing. Gavin paused, considering it and the cup in his hand, and had not quite made his decision before he was roughly grabbed from behind and dragged back out into the hallway.

In a moment, he found himself face to face with much taller man, who held him firmly by the back of his tunic and regarded him with a single raised eyebrow. Gavin returned the look with a wide, innocent smile.

“Hello! I'm Gavi – waaghhh where are you taking me!”

He half-expected, of course, to meet the head of the castle's household staff, or perhaps whatever servant or attendant happened to own the cup. It was to Gavin's utter delight that he found himself dragged before the crown prince himself. For a moment, Gavin glanced down at his plain attire and felt almost self-conscious, before he looked up and realized the prince looked almost more unkempt than he did.

“That was fast,” the prince of the realm remarked, to the man who was still holding Gavin by the back of his collar.

Gavin's captor shrugged. “Here's your cup,” he said simply, and tossed the object over. Prince Michael caught it one-handed, and rounded on him.

“What the flying fuck do you think you're doing!” he began, his voice jumping from a normal volume to a roar. Gavin gaped, impressed. “Do you have any shitting reason to be stealing my favorite goddamn goblet? DO YOU?”

“Bollocks to that, it can't be yours!” Gavin blurted without thinking, and for a moment his boldness seemed to catch the prince off guard. “'S got no bloody gold or jewels or anything!”

“Whether or not it's mine,” Michael snapped, “You walked into the castle and stole a goblet. How fucking stupid do you have to be?!”

Gavin beamed. “Utterly stupid,” he replied dutifully. “A complete sausage, if you ask me.” He paused. “Which you just did.”

“I–” Michael cut himself off before he could continue his tirade, which was a shame because Gavin was getting a kick out of it so far. Instead, the prince covered his eyes with his hand. “Fuck, just... Ryan, toss him in the dungeon or some shit. Keep him for the night, then kick his ass out tomorrow.”

The man who was still holding Gavin through him a carefree salute. “Sure thing, Prince Michael,” he answered, before turning and towing Gavin away.

Gavin waved as he stumbled backwards behind Ryan. “Bye, Michael!”

With a single incredulous look, Michael was shouting again. “It's Prince Michael, you dumbshit! I'm your future fucking king!”

This had been an excellent idea, Gavin decided, even as he was tripping into his cell and hearing the door slam shut behind him. He'd also learned something from this – namely, he would have to be much, much faster about it.

The night spent in the dungeon was utterly worth it.

---

The day after Gavin's release found him slipping back into the castle through one of the little servants' doors. By now he was used to a few of the paths through the corridors, and wandered into the kitchen without much trouble. He casually swiped the pewter cup again, and was out the door before any of the busy scullery servants had noticed anything amiss. He went through his mental list of possible hiding places again, and settled upon the armory, since he'd already been there.

Unfortunately, despite his supposed experience with that part of the castle, he still managed to get turned around at some point. The armory he had visited was on the... first floor, wasn't it? Yes. And he was on the first floor. It had to be down this particular hallway, because hadn't he seen this particular suit of armor the other day? Yes it had to have been, with the pointed visor and the spiky bits on the shoulders. Gavin darted past the suit, but all that the end of the hall yielded was a flight of stairs leading downward. With an inward grown of annoyance, he turned to double back.

The torchlit walls alerted him to approaching shadows, and the tapping of footsteps echoed in the stone corridor. Was it Ryan? He hoped it wasn't Ryan.

Trapped, Gavin darted down the steps. The air around him cooled, and the stairway opened out to another room that smelled of earth and fruit and... alcohol. Barrels of various sizes liked the walls, and the room was dark and chilly.

The cellars. Well that had been a bit of a mistake.

“What the fuck are you doing down here? Does Michael want me?”

Gavin nearly jumped out of his boots at the sound of the voice, but he froze when a sleepy-eyed man with a scruffy beard and heavily tattooed arms came strolling out of the rows of barrels.

“Er... uh...” he stammered. Caught again.

The cellar keeper stared at him, looking half-drunk himself. “That is a huge fuckin' nose,” he remarked.

Gavin went cross-eyed for a moment. “Er... all better to... smell your booze with?”

“Funny thing about huge fuckin' noses,” the man went on. “Ryan and Michael said that thief a couple days ago had one. And that's the prince's goblet you've got there.”

“Wasn't gonna steal it!” Gavin blurted. “Just... y'know... move it. To a funny place.” He smiled for good measure.

The cellar keeper blinked a couple of times, and then turned around again with a sigh. “Fuck it. I am way too hungover for this. Don't take anything out of the castle, and I didn't see you.”

“Cheers!” Gavin replied with a wave, and darted back up the cellar steps.

He slowed to a leisurely walk when he returned to the corridors, and this time he managed to stumble upon the armory again. It was the work of a moment to slip in with the cup, bung it on the end of one of the spears propped up on the rack, and find a hiding place behind a couple of boxes further back. After a moment's deliberation, he kindly left the armory door open. It wouldn't do if the prince didn't find the thing.

Gavin settled down to wait. To his delight, the prince did not force him to wait for long.

“AGAIN?!” The roar came from some other corridor, but it found its way into the armory all the same. “Shit on my fucking asshole!”

Gavin squirmed in his hiding place, allowing him a couple of squeaks of laughter.

“Where's the fucking cup?!” the prince raged on. “It's gone!”

Hidden behind the crates, Gavin grinned and waited.

“Fuck me right in the goddamn ear! Where are you, you little shit?!” Gavin squirmed again, rocked back and forth, and did his best to contain his mirth. This was so much better than he could have hoped.

Heavy, running footsteps approached, and Gavin stilled himself. The prince was still yelling, and his raucous fury was getting louder by the second.

“-thought I told that little asshole to get fucking lost instead of touching my shit, but noooo, he just had to come back and fucking DO IT AGAIN!” The yelling approached the armory doorway and nearly passed it, but a bodily thud against the wooden door halted the footsteps. The voice exploded with rage again. “God damn it, who the fuck left this door open?! I swear to fucking God, if I–” The voice stopped abruptly, and the footsteps did not continue.

Gavin clamped both hands over his mouth and waited. Oh please. Oh please, please.

“What. The fuck.” Footsteps entered the armory, and Gavin heard the clink of metal as the prince removed the pewter cup from the spearhead. “Who the – why would – how – just...” The incoherent muttering gave way momentarily to a thick silence, and then, “IS THIS SOMEONE'S IDEA OF A JOKE?!”

Gavin lost it. He snorted, loudly, and any attempt at muffling his laughter was utterly pointless. He almost didn't hear the approaching footsteps before he was yanked up by his collar and brought face to face with Prince Michael.

“IN my defense,” he said, before his future king had the chance to speak, “I didn't actually steal it.”

Michael stared at him with a swirling mixture of incredulous, utter bafflement, and red-faced fury. His eye twitched, and Gavin burst out laughing again.

“Your face!” he gasped. “You should see your bloody face.”

He spent the rest of the day and that night in the dungeon again. It was even more worth it than the last time.

---

Michael stood in the kitchen larder, arms crossed over his chest, his face screwed up in a very effortful scowl. He breathed deeply, in and out through his flaring nostrils, and ran his fingers through his hair. The motion nearly dislodged his circlet, and he repeated a mantra to himself in his mind.

Don't laugh. Don't laugh, you fuck, don't you dare laugh.

He almost couldn't help it, though. For one thing, it was a relief to find all the candles that had mysteriously gone missing that morning.

For another, someone (and he didn't need to think too hard about who) had stuck each one into a different loaf of bread stored in the pantry. It was annoyingly difficult not to burst out laughing – Michael usually didn't have to focus this much to remember how to be furious.

Nevertheless, it came back to him, as well-honed skills often did. “Jack, I swear to fucking God, if I turn around and you're laughing, I will flip my goddamn shit.”

“Yeah, got it,” Jack said, and technically he wasn't laughing, but his tone was trembly enough that he was pretty damn close. “So... is it that guy again?”

“The fuck do you think?” Michael snapped. “Who – who the fuck else would do shit like this?” He gestured with both hands at the candle-decorated loaves of bread before him. “This is like the work of the dumbest criminally insane burglar in the fucking history of castle invasions! How the fuck does he keep getting past everyone?!” He tired to claw at his hair again, only to be blocked by the stupid circlet, and finally just took it off so he could tear at his hair properly. “If it was Geoff in charge of this shit or wandering around up here, I'd get it, but he's down in the goddamn cellar all day! How the fuck is this shit-ass fucktrumpet getting around?!”

A burst of muffled snickering broke out somewhere behind them, followed by a high-pitched squawk that trailed into further shrieks of dismayed laughter. Michael and Jack turned around in perfect synchronization to see Ryan stepping into view holding their thief by the back of his tunic. The groundskeeper was holding him up high enough that he was forced to stand on his toes, but their crooked little visitor managed to get a hold of himself and beam at them.

The bastard had the nerve to give him a wave. “Hi, Michael! I heard it's the prince's birthday today!”

Don't. Fucking. Laugh.

The corner of Michael's mouth twitched.

Ryan gestured vaguely over his shoulder with his free hand. “Should I just...?”

“Yeah, fuck, fine,” Michael sighed, rubbing his face tiredly. “For all the good it'll do.”

Michael watched as the groundskeeper marched the young man away, to the dungeon again, before turning back to the decorated loaves of bread. His mouth twitched again, and once he was sure the other two were out of hearing range, he let himself snicker.

“Oh my fucking God, what an idiot.” He looked to Jack. “Can you take care of this.”

The older man was looking at him funny, but Michael found, to his surprise, that he was in too much of a good mood to care. “Yeah, sure,” Jack said with a nod.

In the following week alone, Michael discovered when several bars of soap were impaled upon arrows and relocated to one of the linen closets, and when a bunch of the suits of armor displayed throughout the castle had their helmets removed and hung over their crotches. In the latter case, he was hard-pressed to hold in the laughter that came in waves amid his cacophonous ranting.

One morning Jack passed through one of the lower corridors to find that their thief-in-broad-daylight in the armory, draping the anvil in a flower garland that he'd managed to get his grubby little hands on. As Jack watched, dumbfounded, the young man halted mid-festoon and stared at him like a startled fawn.

Seconds passed, and the two of them gaped at each other in equal shock.

Jack weighed his options. The obvious choice seemed to be to call for guards, to arrest this man. If he were Ryan, he might have dragged the interloper off to the dungeon himself. But for all that their voices were similar, he was not Ryan, and in looking at the man before him, he could imagine the merriment carefully hidden behind annoyance and rage on Michael's face, and the laughter that he let out when no one else was around to see or hear it.

“Don't make a mess,” he said flatly, before turning on his heel to take care of something more urgent.

---

It was a happy day for Gavin when he found an accomplice.

There were a lot of wall hangings in the castle, Gavin had discovered over his frequent visits. If he was very careful, it wouldn't be too difficult to turn one or two of them upside down. Of course, such a task also require picking which hanging looked the smallest and lightest (while also being out of the way so that he could turn it round without being interrupted), and filching a chair from somewhere else so that he could reach the damn thing. Despite a few minor setbacks, he managed both and was moving on to the next step when a voice from halfway down the otherwise empty corridor hailed him.

“Hey, you're that guy aren't you?”

Gavin looked down from struggling with his handiwork to see that he had attracted an audience. Said audience consisted of one other young man, short and wiry enough to be considered a boy still, though Gavin was hardly one to judge. He was black-haired and bespectacled, with curious dark eyes and a mischievous half-smile on his face.

Gavin considered him for a moment, wondering if he was more like Ryan or more like Beardy and Other Beardy. Ryan had this annoying habit of grabbing him and dragging him to the dungeon, usually without even pausing to consult the prince on the matter at this point. But the cellar keeper with the beard and the head servant with the other beard were nice enough to leave him be while he did his thing. Hopefully this new guy would be the same way.

“What guy?” he asked, innocently.

His single audience looked him up and down, from the chair he was perched on to the wall hanging that he was struggling with. An amused, knowing smile played about his lips. “So what is it this time? Gonna drape that over the toilet or what?”

“That's just crude,” Gavin scoffed. “I was only going to hang it a bit upside down.”

The bespectacled young man tilted his head to the side. “Huh. Cool. Need a hand?”

Gavin blinked. “Are you serious?”

The guy grinned and shrugged in response. “Hey, I'm a squire for a little while longer. Might as well get my kicks in now before I have to be, y'know, well-behaved and shit. Hang on a sec while I find something to stand on.”

He was back in a few moments with another chair, and Gavin discovered that the task was far easier with someone helping him with the heavy cloth. In a matter of minutes, the old woven likeness of some ancestor or other from the royal family tree was hanging from its hooks, the wrong way up. The pair of them were admiring their handiwork, just remembering to exchange names (“Vav – er, Gavin, sorry, slip of the tongue.” “Heh, I'm Ray.” “Anyone ever call you X-Ray?” “...Does that mean something?” “Dunno, just thought it sounded cool.”) when footsteps approached from down the hall.

“Shit, here they come.” Ray took a few steps in the opposite direction, and glanced over his shoulder when he saw that Gavin wasn't following. “Gavin? You coming?”

Gavin cocked an ear, and heard a familiar harsh voice accompanying the tapping of feet on stone floors. “Nah. I think the prince is coming. May as well say hello before he tosses me in prison again.”

The squire looked at him strangely, but shrugged. “Alright, suit yourself. I'm not sticking around, though.”

“Cheers, Ray.” Gavin waved as his new friend darted away, and then turned around as the prince rounded the corner with Other Beardy at his side. “Hi, Michael!”

Michael stood ramrod straight. “Oh fuck me in the tootsie. Jack, how does he keep getting past the staff? The staff that you are in charge of?”

Other Beardy, or Jack as he was apparently called, stared blandly at Gavin, who beamed back and waved. “I dunno. I'd better tighten security or something.”

The dungeon was actually quite comfortable, once you got used to it.

---

To be fair to their repeat offender, that particular pile of bedsheets had been set aside for disposal, in a room with stone walls and stone floors and few, if any, flammable materials nearby. It would take a very concentrated effort from veritable armies to burn down an entire castle. But still, stealing and moving castle property to odd places, turning tapestries upside down, and leaving nonsensical messages chalked onto the walls (“Don't be a pleb”, “Michael you're beautiful”, and “Jack's got an arsehole like a jester's pocket” were stand-out examples in Michael's eyes) were reasonable. Relatively. Setting a pile of bedclothes on fire was another issue entirely, and it wasn't one that Michael could ignore or sweep under the rug.

At least the kingdom's most recently established knight had managed to stumble upon the crime before it actually happened. Later, Michael decided, he could ask the man just how he had managed to do what servants and castle guards had been incapable of for the past weeks: catch the little bastard in the act. For now, he would settle for glaring daggers at the sheepish culprit who was currently half-suspended in Ryan's grip.

Michael looked over his shoulder, about to thank his friend again for preventing the mess, but the knight in question was looking past him, grinning and waving.

“Hey, Gavin.”

The captured prankster, whose name was apparently Gavin, squawked out indignantly. “Ray, you smeggy little smegpot!”

The newly established Sir Ray shrugged unapologetically. “Hey man, I'm a knight since two days ago. I told you, remember?”

“You two fucking know each other?!” Michael rounded on Ray, who gave him an annoyingly similar shrug to the one that Gavin had received.

“Guess I've seen him around.”

“You fuck.”

“Hey, yolo, right?”

Ray, he could deal with later. His loyalty and motives were not in question, and if this incident had proven anything, it was that he could trust his friend where it mattered. One factor in this, however, was still a mystery, and after weeks of dealing with this as minimally as he could, it was high time that Michael had some answers.

And so, hours later, the prince found himself venturing down into the castle prison cells. It wasn't too bad down there; there were about as many rats and vermin as could be found anywhere else in the castle, and Jack made sure the servants kept the mold and grime down there to a minimum. It still smelled damp, though, and no one was about to waste expensive perfume on freshening the place up.

Gavin perked up the moment he noticed Michael approach his cell. “Hi, Michael!” he greeted cheerily. They might as well have been bumping into one another in the market or out on an afternoon stroll. Michael did his best not to find it bizarrely endearing.

“Y'know, you really should address me like I'm, I dunno, the prince of the fucking realm you live in,” Michael snapped. There wasn't much bite to it, not nearly as much as there once had been.

“Alright then, Highness,” Gavin responded, surprising Michael by obliging. Michael twitched a little. He couldn't help it; after weeks of hearing “Hi, Michael,” “Good morning, Michael,” “See you later, Michael,” and “Michael, no, I'm not finished yet!” it was weird hearing his proper title come from Gavin's mouth. “Sorry if it went a bit too far, I just heard someone say you were getting rid of those sheets and I did a dumb.”

“Why?”

Gavin shrugged and looked away with an embarrassed grin. “Oh, you know, I just got excited a bit. You ever get excited and then come up with really stupid ideas? It was like that.”

“That's not what I meant, stupid,” Michael scoffed. “I mean why do you keep pulling this shit? What the fuck do you get out of this?” He leaned against the bars, watching Gavin's sheepish smile fade. “C'mon, answer me. You never actually steal anything, and hell, you hang around afterward and make sure I see you. Why? Don't you have a family or some shit to look after?”

The prisoner was silent for a moment, sitting back against the stone wall. Michael could almost see the single gear turning in his head as he considered the prince's questions. Finally, he looked at Michael again. “Well, no to the last one. Don't think I'll ever have one at all, really.”

“No mystery why,” Michael snorted. “C'mon, I can tell by how you're dressed that you're not some peasant and you're not poor as shit. What're you doing fucking around in the castle?”

“Got two brothers,” Gavin answered, rocking a bit. “One's older, one's younger. My older brother's getting all the land, younger one's getting sent off to some monastery, so they're set. Me, my parents sort of shoved me out the door and told me to go make my way in the world or something.” The silly grin returned. “Trouble is, I can't seem to find anything I like or anything I'm good at. But I heard about you, heard you've got a right temper but you're a good sort, so I thought hey, maybe I can bug the shit out of you and not get beheaded, wouldn't that be a lark? Might as well have some fun before I catch the plague or something.”

Michael stared at him incredulously. “You have got to be fucking with me,” he said bluntly. “That's a shitty reason. No, no, that is literally the shittiest reason I have ever heard for doing anything. You fucking suck, Gavin.”

To his annoyance, Gavin beamed. “Sure I do, weren't you listening? Besides, just 'cos it's the reason I started doing this doesn't mean it's the reason I kept doing it.”

Michael nearly knocked his head against the bars in irritation. As it was, only his circlet stopped him, so maybe there was some use to the damn thing. “Well, then fucking enlighten me, Gavin. Why the hell are you still here?”

“Well, I like you, Michael.”

The prince stared at him. “...What.”

Gavin's head tilted to the side. “It's true. I think you're top.”

Michael continued to gape at him in utter bafflement.

“What? You think I wouldn't like you?” It was Gavin's turned to look surprised.

“Literally all I do is yell at you, insult you, and lock you up,” Michael said flatly. “How the fuck... what?”

“Yeah, but you think it's funny, don't you?” Gavin spread his hands wide. “I think you're funny. You combine words all weird when you're yelling at me. It's top.”

“You're one to talk, you do that whenever you open your goddamn mouth,” Michael countered, but he could feel it again. It was that annoying smile, tugging at the corners of his mouth again.

“Well I like it when you do it,” Gavin insisted. “You've got imagination.”

And Michael did, he really did. He must have, to come up with the idea. It came to him like the whim of a moment, but he latched on to it before he could think better of it. “Fine then,” he said decisively.

Gavin blinked. “Fine then what?”

Michael smirked through the bars at him. “If you like being in the castle so much, then you can stick around and be my personal servant. I mean, if you've got nothing better to do than piss me off and catch the plague.”

“R-really? You'll give me a job?” Gavin's eyes widened.

“I'm gonna fuckin' regret this, I just know it.” Michael rolled his eyes. “Keep in mind, though, you'll pretty much be obeying my every whim. This way I'm keeping an eye on you, and if you keep pulling shit like this, you'll find out just how 'imaginative' I can be.”

A slow smile spread across Gavin's face. “You're serious about this,” he said, as if he could barely believe it. “You'll let me live here and work for you and faff about in the castle.”

“Might as well, Jack's been giving me shit about needing a manservant. Speaking of him, you'll be answering to him, too, seeing as he's in charge of household shit around here.”

Gavin winced a little. “Is he still mad about the jester's pocket thing?”

“Nah, I think he was too impressed to be mad.” Michael straightened up but stayed close to the bars. “So, one more night in the dungeon for you while I talk shit over with Jack, get all this set up. Tomorrow I'm putting you to work.”

Gavin moved quickly, far too quickly for Michael to stop him before he reached the bars, thrust both arms through, and hugged the prince through the door to his cell. “Thank you!”

“Jesus fuck, Gavin get off of me.”

“Michael,” Gavin said insistently, without letting go. “You're beautiful.”

The crown prince rolled his eyes. “Oh my God.”