One might argue Markesh is supposed to be in the audience hall.
It's usually his job, after all, standing at his Empress' left hand side to offer her small subtle cues and ticks to help keep her tongue civil or alert her to any audial details that might be trying to fly under the radar. Most of those in nearby island nations know the Ariad family and know that no matter which one stands as Empire figurehead, they are not a force with which to be reckoned, whether it be literal, metaphorical, or especially political. But there are those from outlying nations or kingdoms who would seek to still try to undermine their authority in some way, usually on their own turf. The High Empress has words for those who attempt these little tactics and disrespects:
Cannon Fodder.
And usually, Markesh would agree. But he isn't where he should be right now, at his Empress' side, doing his job. So agreement is unnecessary.
It's been some time since both his aunt -the head Regent on the Isles- and Her Imperial Grace disappeared behind closed doors into the war room with a very bizarre individual claiming to be monarch of some other tiny nation. Strange name, strange accents, strange appearances, overall setting the younger Regent's hackles to raise. He knows he should be in there, he wants to be in there, but he has to concede to his Empress' will and take the consideration that Auntie Ildra knows what she's doing.
Which leaves Markesh with nothing to do right now. And that is generally a bad thing.
He does what he usually does in this scenario, turning on the heel of one boot with hands behind his back to at least look official, with his head lofted and his ears straight up ... and he marches his way in the general direction of the kitchens. Dejected cadence out of the marbled halls from the war room and into the cavernous main foyer, his steps sound brighter now ticking along over the mosaic in the floor, the circular yanna of the goddess Katya, the embodiment of war.
A fierce deity if ever there was one, though she has not been seen for many generations, her invocative sigil is still there to bless the warlord and their family with her presence. Perhaps one day she will return, but for now, the circular motif of overlapping geometric shapes in her specific patterns will remind them of her.
He asks the blessings now, a playful little tone of voice to guide him in what he is about to do. But his Empress must eat, he reasons, and that is good enough for him to consider braving the gauntlet that are the Imperial kitchens.
As much as I’d love a peaceful meeting between Camila and the rest of the crew, I just know if she sees Darius’s abomination form out of the corner of her eye she is going to hit him full force with the bat.
Idea where the Dino Thunder team, The Dino Charge Team and the Dino/Cosmic Fury team get thrown into the past MMPR (maybe S3?) along with the 1969 rangers because time shenanigans.
A/N: Another ficlet for Day 7: Heist of the TCR Birthday Bash 2020, cause this idea came suddenly from a Discord discussion, and also from this post. A ficlet, in which the non-human members of the Bureau perform a heist into Haru’s flat for entirely chaotic reasons.
x
On the fridge in Haru’s flat was a list. It read:
Pirates of the Caribbean
The Princess Bride
Nightmare Before Christmas
Robin Hood (Errol Flynn)
Robin Hood (Douglas Fairbanks)
Robin Hood (Disney)
And other such movies that Haru had deemed Bad Influences due to the dramatic tendencies the characters displayed.
(Haru had learnt that lesson after showing Galaxy Quest to the Bureau, and then having to yoink Baron back from his newfound desire to wait until the last second before pressing big impressive countdown buttons.)
And the latest addition, scribbled on in orange marker, was Cinderella 3: A Twist in Time.
Now, Baron could somewhat understand the rest. Haru had given a quick rundown of the plots - and, yes, he could see why pirates and kidnapped princesses and dashing do-gooders might have dramatic leanings that would be irresistible to a Creation such as him.
However, the Cinderella one had stumped him.
“After all,” he reasoned as he pushed through the cat flap, “it’s not as if I haven’t seen the original movie, and she didn’t ban the second.”
“Chicky’s really just making yer more curious,” Muta said as he followed Baron through. “Yer think she’d have spent enough time around cats to know that curiosity... that curiosity is what... Call this a cat flap? This ain’t big enough for a gerbil, let alone a cat.”
Baron tried to heave his friend through the undersized opening, dislodging the welcome mat in the process.
“Maybe she had a reason for adding it to the list,” Toto offered, who was thinking about how he was the one who had to cover for Baron’s dramatics, which was already quite the chore without throwing more fuel to the fire. “Anyway, I don’t think,” he said, hopping up onto the table beside the door, “that sneaking into Haru’s flat to watch it is the answer.”
“Then why did you come along, birdbrain?”
“Damage control.”
“Damage control? Why would we need damage control, ya overgrown--”
Baron and Muta’s combined efforts finally bore fruit, and Muta shot out of the cat flap like a champagne cork and rammed straight into the table.
Toto caught the bowl of keys before it could clatter off and wake Haru. He carefully repositioned it with a talon. “Oh, I don’t know, Call it a hunch,” he replied sarcastically.
Baron was picking himself back up, dusting the imaginary dust mites off his coat. “I don’t know why you’re fretting, Toto,” he said. “After all, we’re just visiting a friend to do some... necessary research.”
“At 2am,” Toto supplied.
“The Bureau runs on all time zones,” Baron said. “I’m sure that somewhere, someplace, it’s a reasonable hour.”
“And is that the excuse you plan to use when Haru catches us?”
“Do you think it will work?”
Toto cocked his head. “On the basis that she has more than a single brain cell... I don’t think so.”
“In that case, we better not get caught. Now, who knows how to work the television?”
There was an awkward pause.
“Well, Chicky’s usually the one to sort it all out...” Muta muttered.
Baron nodded, as if this wasn’t a major flaw in the plan. “Good point, good point.”
“Maybe,” Toto said reluctantly, as if already regretting enabling this endeavour, but unable to resist helping, “there’s a manual for it.”
“Excellent point, Toto. Now... where is it?”
“Yeah, leave this to me,” Muta called, scurrying off into the joint kitchen and, after several ungainly jumps, reached a small drawer. He battled at the handle until it slid open, rooted around, and dropped a couple of thick manuals onto the floor.
The two Creations neared the findings with bemusement.
“How did you know those were there?” Baron asked.
“Eh, you know... I may have got familiar with the kitchen in search of food. Though there’d be marshmallows somewhere for a cake, and found this weird drawer instead. He pawed at the contents. “If yer wanting dead batteries, outdated cables, and tech manuals from the Stone Age, this is yer drawer.”
“Yes, well.. thank you, Muta.” Baron spread the manuals across the floor. “Well, how difficult can this be?”
x
The answer, naturally, was very.
“Muta, I do believe this manual has the same instructions copied six times over.”
“That’ll be the other languages,” Muta replied.
“It’ll be the Sanctuary magic translating it for us,” Toto supplied. He peered over Baron’s shoulder. “Do the other languages say anything helpful?”
“Some questionable grammar, but nothing noteworthy.”
“I’ve found the remote!”
Both Creations furiously shushed Muta.
“Sorry. I’ve found the remote,” he whispered in exaggerated tones.
“Where was it?”
“Behind the sofa.”
“Remind me to give Haru a few tips on good tidiness habits.”
“And how are yer gonna do that? ‘Hey, could yer make sure yer tidy the place up so next time we break into your home, we can find the remote?’“
“It’s not breaking and entering if we don’t break anything,” Baron replied back.
“How does Haru’s trust sound?” Toto asked dryly.
“Haru has made it quite clear we are welcome whenever. Now how do we turn this infernal machine on...?”
x
Several false starts, one rapid muting, and ten minutes on the wrong input channel later, they found their way to the menu screen for Cinderella 3: A Twist in Time.
For the first half, Baron failed to see what Haru had made all the fuss about. For, except for a momentary dramatic flair from the prince as he parried with both words and sword, there was little to add to Baron’s already impressive repertoire.
Then the film rolled towards its climax, and as the prince ran down the stairs to find his true love, he found his way blocked by his father.
“This is ridiculous! Now, you agreed to marry the girl in the glass slipper,” the king ranted. “I was completely with you on that one--”
“And I will,” the prince retorted, attempting to step past his father. “Just as soon as I find her.”
The king made a variety of disgruntled noises. “I’ve - I - I forbid you to take another step down these stairs!”
There was a pause as the prince considered this statement. Then a smile spread slowly across his face. “Okay,” he said, and jumped out of the nearest window.
Muta and Toto simultaneously looked at Baron.
“What?” he demanded.
“Do not,” Toto said, “even think about it.”
“I wasn’t!”
Which was true. There was very little thought involved.
x
“THIEVES! VANDALS! RUFFIANS! YOU COME BACK HERE WITH THAT VASE!”
Haru raced down the steps, taking them three at a time and hoping gravity wasn’t about to get the better of her. “Is... anyone else... worried,” she gasped, “how often this... happens?”
“The running or the name-calling, Chicky?”
“Both?! We’re the good guys! We shouldn’t get called ruffians!”
An arrow whizzed over their heads.
“Or shot at!” She pivoted on one foot to glare at their pursuers. “We’re trying to help you, you idiots!”
Another arrow buried itself into the stone wall above her.
“Sure, sure, Chicky, go insult their intelligence. That always goes down real well.”
“I certainly feel better for it.” Her foot missed a step and she went sprawling. Baron caught her before she could go the rest of the stairway head-over-heels.
“Enjoying our little trip, were we?”
Haru snorted. “And how long have you been waiting on that one? Anyway, you can put me down now--”
“HALT! IN THE NAME OF HIS EMINENCE, THE ROYAL HIGH KING, RULER OF THE SUNSET ISLANDS, CONQUEROR OF THE CRIMSON WASTES, RIGHTFUL HEIR OF THE AURORA THRONE--”
“Are they waiting for us to die of old age?” Muta muttered.
“--YOU ARE ORDERED TO STOP!”
“On second thoughts, Baron, let’s not make any sudden moves,” Haru said. She leant back in his arms and laid a glare on the garrison of highly-decorated soldiers blocking their path. “The vase we took is cursed. That’s why you’ve been plagued by bad luck for the past year.”
“LIES! DECEIT!”
“Geez, does this guy have an indoor voice?” Muta grunted.
“YOU SHALL BE BROUGHT TO THE ROYAL COURT TO FACE JUSTICE FOR YOUR CRIMES!”
“Baron, this would be a great time for you to pull out one of your last-minute plans,” Haru whispered.
“I’m working on it.”
“Work faster.”
“YOU ARE FORBIDDEN FROM TAKING ANOTHER STEP DOWN THESE STAIRS!”
Baron grinned the kind of slow grin that wouldn’t have been out-of-place on the Cheshire Cat. “Haru, do you trust me?”
She raised an eyebrow at him. “I always do until you ask questions like that.”
“Then hold on tight.”
Haru hastily linked her fingers together behind Baron’s neck, securing herself with the kind of grip that spoke of many, many experiences.
“Not another step down these stairs, you say?” Baron called. “Then, naturally, we shall respect your request. Haru, are you ready?”
“Sure, but for whaaaaa--”
She devolved into a scream as Baron leapt through the open window and rappelled his way down by means of the creeping ivy clinging to the castle walls.
Baron landed at the base of the castle with not a single hair out of place.
Haru looked... less immaculate.
She elbowed her way back to her feet and leant heavily against the nearest non-floor thing, waiting for the world to stop see-sawing. “Oh boy...”
Muta and Toto followed after, although Muta’s descent was slowed by his claws. “Real smooth, Baron,” he grunted.
“It worked, didn’t it?”
“Tell me, Baron,” Toto said, alighting on his shoulder, “did you know about the ivy before or after you jumped?”
“It is entirely possible I took note of the castle’s foliage on our entrance here.”
“That’d be a no,” Muta said.
Haru groaned and straightened, pushing her hair out of its birdnest and into something approaching any kind of style. “You know, I’m getting the weirdest sense of deja-vu...”
“That’d be from when he jumped off your school roof,” Muta offered.
“Or the time he interrupted the clockwork wedding via the cathedral window,” Toto said.
“Or when he escaped from the sky castle.”
“Or the lightning pirates incident.”
“Or the--”
“Yes, yes,” Baron said, a trite curtly. “I think we get the picture.”
“No, that’s... that’s not it.” Haru frowned, mouthing something to herself. “It was... I think it was something you said... or something the guard said. The whole ‘not another step’ thing sounded awfully...” her eyes suddenly widened, “...familiar...”
Muta cackled. “Now yer in for it, Baron.”
Haru spun round accusingly to Baron. “Did you watch my copy of Cinderella 3?”
“Watch is such a strong word...”
“Baron...”
“If you’re asking if I occupied the same room that the movie happened to be playing in, then I suppose--”
“Oh my god.”
“--in the loosest sense of the word--”
“You’re in so much trouble.”
“--one could say that, yes, I did watch Cinderella 3. Are you quite all right, Haru? You seem to be breathing rather heavily into your hands.”
“I’m counting to ten.”
“Why-- oh.”
Several arrows embedded themselves into the creeping ivy just above them.
“As much as I fully endorse this admonishment,” Toto chipped in, “may I remind you that we are currently running for our lives?” Several more arrows pinged past them, notably closer to their marks this time. “Preferably before the archers find their aim.”
“Wait,” Haru said. “Did you know? About the movie?” She watched Muta and Toto’s guilty shuffling, and the penny dropped. “Did you help?”
“Help is such a strong word,” Muta said.
“If you’re asking if we happened to occupy the same room as Baron did during the movie...” Toto muttered.
“..and maybe jiggled your cat flap open...” Muta continued.
“...and worked the TV...”
“...then I suppose, in the loosest sense of the word...”
“...one could say that, yes, we did help him. How high are you counting this time, Haru?”
“As many as it takes before the murderous tendencies wear off,” Haru growled. “Baron, your tea privileges are banned for a month; same goes for you and cake, Muta; and Toto...” She paused. “Is there anything I can ban for you?”
“Bickering with Muta?” Toto supplied wearily.
“Fine. No bickering with Muta.” She groaned again and rubbed at her temples. “Alright, let’s get this cursed vase outta here and get home.” She glanced around. “Who’s got the vase?”
“Oh,” Baron said.
“Oh?”
“I think I may have left it in the staircase,” he said. “Just before we jumped.”
