General Maergraid’s expression hadn’t shifted much from the lowkey mischievousness apart from maybe a tinge of curiosity here and some amusement there. That was of course until Rodney spoke. The tall general grinned broadly at him. He looked like a kid that’s been told Christmas came early this year. It wasn’t often that new recruits arrived and still had the presence of mind to joke. Or the nerve. Those who did though usually belonged to two categories; either overconfident or stupid. Still, it was refreshing, even then. And it just happened that sometimes that some people ended up belonging to neither category. That was the best. He looked at Rodney eagerly for a second more then turned to Mab, still grinning.
“Are you certain he’s not a gift for me?” he bowed his head quickly, in a perfunctory apology. The grin didn’t fade from his lips. “Your Majesty.”
“Quite certain, General,” the Queen replied but there was miraculously a quirk to her lips now.
“So–” Maergraid clapped his hands once then rubbed them together, staring at Rodney, “A human. No– Not quite. Not a changeling either. I’d know.” He paused for a second, squinting then shrugged, not waiting to see if Rodney would answer. “You know how to fight?“
Well. That was different. Wasn’t often Rodney came across people in charge of death who enjoyed their jobs so much. He’d been looked at that hungrily before, only ever by people who wanted to sleep with him or use him. Sometimes both. But, of the latter, commanders and kings were rarely so eager. For a split second, he felt he could almost understand what people saw when the switch flipped in a hybrid’s head.
He didn’t say a word, since it seemed like a bad idea to cut in on or talk over Mab, but he was all smirks.
You bet I’m the best present anybody’s ever dropped in your lap, big guy.
Especially if that grin really was bloodlust. The queen had said “training rooms” but if the general here wanted to test him, Rodney could paint the blue-white landscape in red. Or whatever these people bled. His body still held a tightness, not quite an ache and not quite the burning hum of before. For now, he remained uncharacteristically quiet and let the soldier guess, only scoffing in reaction at the end. Twice. All but the extrasensory and hyper-intelligent mistook him for human. And he had no idea what a changeling was. But that last part—that was funny.
“Nah,” he drawled. “’Cos your gorgeous ruler really seems like the type to hire a pretty face with zero talent behind it.”
You might say he knew how to fight. You might also say it was all he knew.
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