#idontxneedsaving

fatxlity:

Markovia was a humble country, one that he enjoyed visiting whenever he was called for work or contracts; however, he was coming to the country for a new reason, one he had not expected to ever come for. The King of Markovia was a strange man, one who seemed desperate for a solution to a growing problem, that being his daughter. Princess Tara Markov, from what he heard, was a pest. Unbecoming of a princess, she was accused of being bratty and pretentious.

The King had wanted him to be her bodyguard, and that job was to pay much more than any of his contracts were. It was a very difficult decision, but from what he had heard, the girl wasn’t too far from becoming of age to no longer need a personal guard, so the job wouldn’t be as long as other bodyguard work. Her late teens, if he remembered correctly.

So he arrived at the extravagant palace with his things. He would be living in the palace for the duration of the job. He awaited patiently for the door to open and for this new, unfamiliar occupation to begin.

idontxneedsaving:

"Your Highness, you’re wanted in the entrance hall."

Tara rolled her eyes at the request. She didn’t respond to the servant, just tucked her magazine under her pillow and rolled off her bed. She marched down the corridor and met the head of security, her father’s personal bodyguard, at the end of the hall. He eyed her appearance- jeans and a sweatshirt- but he knew better to say anything.

Out of politeness, Tara was meeting her new bodyguard, but she couldn’t care less about this person coming into her life. She hadn’t needed one before- she always was just watched by her father’s team- but after her fifteenth birthday, the king said she needed an eye dedicated only to watching her. 

idontxneedsaving:

"Final boarding call for flight 213 to Paris. Final boarding." Terra was late. Typical. She and the other stragglers were running up to the gate, carry-on still unzipped from bag checks, shoving their boarding passes and passports at the flight attendant.

"You’re in seat C41! Lucky. You got the window seat!" another perky flight attendant chirped to her as she stepped on the plane. She barely smiled in response and readjusted her backpack to head down the aisle.

Her seat already had a person next to it, making it impossible for her to get in without asking for him to move. She groaned and put off the human interaction by opening the overhead compartment and sticking in her few belongings.

"Excuse me," she started to say to the man in the way of her seat. He turned his head and her mouth went dry. Not many people had eye patches.

"Welcome passengers to Flight 213, direct flight to Paris, France. We now have our final passengers on board and are shutting the door to prepare for takeoff." The flight attendant’s voice came over the loudspeaker. Terra swallowed hard and could not find it in herself to scream that there was a mercenary on the plane.

fatxlity:

The man was seated in the plane’s economy class, late booking having resulted in all first class seats to have been filled. Fortunately, the economy chairs were comfortable and leaned back considerably. The TV was easy to see and he didn’t think he’d have trouble finding sleep in the large cabin. He wished he had gotten the window seat, but wouldn’t be too disappointed by the seating arrangements.

Though, as he looked down the aisle to see a certain blonde girl scooting down he immediately felt something between the lines of panic and indifference. If she freaked out on the plane, the entire flight of civilians would be in jeopardy, and he was not in the mood for unnecessary grief. She was to be sitting next to him, it seemed. That would make this even more difficult.

Hearing her speak, he stood from his seat to allow her into the window seat. Upon standing, he whispered lowly to her. “Stay normal, child.” It was a warning, one that he hoped she would take for the remainder of the flight.

He heard the flight attendant speak over the intercom and sighed. The flight was full, there’d be no changing seats. He’d have to tread carefully until their landing in Paris.

idontxneedsaving:

Oh god oh god oh god oh god. Ohgodohgodohgodohgod. The sweat was forming at her hairline as she robotically sat down next to him. The flight attendant passed by and asked them to put on their seat belt, but she was too numb to listen to the directions. She could feel her body getting hot, her pulse accelerating, the adrenaline rush starting. Before she had doused him in lava, he had taught her to be aware when her body was making her ready to choose to fight or flight. But what did you do when you couldn’t escape and fighting would cause a plane-wide panic?