Disclamer: I dont own the Labyrinth, but I do own Heather.
Authors Note: Hiiiii.... How ya doin? I dont know how this story got started, but for some reason it came out. I dont even know if I will continue it, but if you guys want me to, I will. I do have a story plan, but its not set in stone. If you want, you could even give me some Ideas to keep it going... In regards to the title, it has no real point. I just used the word garbled alot when I was writing... and I liked it...
"You there. Stop." Called a clipped voice from behind me.
'Well, son of a bitch.' Was my first thought… I had believed I was doing well in my not being noticed escapade, after all I had already cleaned three of the windows in the room. I spun quickly around (a difficult accomplishment, mind you, due to the massive clawed feet under me and big swishy tail) and lowered my head towards my monarch.
"Yesh, joor majeshty?" I winced out, looking downward. I honestly didn't mind my appearance anymore, but I have yet to master the art of speaking through my large walrus teeth. Okay, not that big, but you get the point.
"Hindly, was it? Yes, come with me. You'll do fine." He stated after giving me a brief once over, swooshing around and click clacking his way down the main hall.
"Ish Heaffer, actuarly." I grumbled, straightening and scraping steps after him. My way of walking wasn't exactly lumbering anymore, after a few years practice, but you can't exactly be graceful looking like the lizard that got drunk and screwed a wolf. But, at least I'm not short. Or covered in scales, like one of my companions. She never quite got over that bit in her transformation.
I followed him through the throne room, past a few of his court girls staring menacingly at my back, and through a throng of goblins torturing an innocent chicken with a stick and a sausage. I reached out and clipped one on the back of the head, making him squawk and spin on me indignantly. I stuck out my tongue and kept following the king. We soon entered a moderate sized room with a chair and a bed in it. The king stood regally in the center of the room, waving his hand at the chair. I shuffled past and sat on it uncomfortably, my tail swerving up behind my head and bending behind my ear. I swear, I don't control it.
I focused my large brown eyes on my king, patiently waiting for him to stop ignoring me and say what he needs to say.
"Heathcliff," he began, and I winced recalling a hated character from my school days.
"Heaffer. Joor Majeshty."
"Yes. You are going to help me with something." I was apprehensive, due to the some of the extreme oddities of his errands. Once he called on one of my companions to 'Run down to the Bog of Stench and fetch that little green rock for Lillian, will you?,' to which she responded a string of profanities Spanish, gallivanting down to the bog in a rage. She came back hours later, covered in sludge and scratches, with the stone in hand, but the court girl Lillian wrinkled her nose and whined about how disobedient and smelly we all were.
"What?" I asked, pleased to get a word out without a lisp.
"You will go Aboveground and fetch me a new girl. It shouldn't be too hard, but this one might just be the right one, the new Queen." I simply stared at him in abject horror. I had seen my fair share of 'the ones' in his eyes; very pretty, but dumb as oxen. Most of the court girls had been 'the ones'. Blond bimbos would be an accurate description, but I'm not really the type to call them that. Just like I call them 'court girls' instead of a harem, and the king a 'player' instead of a 'man whore'. All distinctly true, just different versions.
The 'the one' rejects, as we refer to ourselves, opted out of becoming court girls. To me, it was a simple matter of becoming a pampered princess or actually maintaining my brain and dignity. Silly me, I chose dignity. There was a third choice, to those who actually wanted to take it, of becoming the Queen. Of course, there is a massive and painful test to accomplish before the Labyrinth will even consider it. I, and a couple of others, did not even qualify for that. We were siblings to the 'the ones', and only had the option of becoming sluts or monsters.
I've always been fond of monsters.
So now I'm a five foot nine mutated version of myself, with a swishy tail, elongated face and leathery tanned skin. My curly brown hair grows wildly around my head, chopped off raggedly around my shoulders. Its not exactly like I have use for long romantic curls, after all. Long, pointed ears with patches of course fur stick out the sides of my head, twitching insanely when I hear noises for no reason I can fathom. In the beginning, I tried to keep up appearances, due to the urgings of my court girl sister. She eventually, as they all do, deteriorated her connections with the rejects, wrinkling her nose and giving me the ever elegant cold shoulder when I said hello. So every day, I look a little more wild, and have a little more freedom to gain for it.
"Are you even listening to me, Haggly?" snapped the king, who had been on a tirade about how perfect this new 'the one' was.
"Yesh sah." I mumbled.
"Good. Now, this is going to hurt a bit."
"What?!" I yelped, not understanding.
"Well I cant have you scaring her off, now can I? You have to look at least decent. Now, when you come back with her, you will be her hand maiden. Make her feel comfortable, understand?"
I just stared and gaped, not knowing why getting clean would hurt me.
Then he tossed the crystal at me, hitting me square in the chest, and a sickening burning began to sweep through my body. I felt bones crack and rearrange, ligaments tearing and rearranging. My fingernails began to rip off, one by one, being re-grown on hands that looked mildly human. My skin began to peal, leaving raw and bloody skin in its wake. I howled, but my voice began to sound different, becoming strangled and garbled with every profanity that came out.
My teeth began to rearrange, scratching and sliding painfully into a jaw that was too small to fit them. It broke with an excruciating pop, and melded back together in a different order. One by one, my teeth began to fall out, streaming blood and flesh down my ragged blouse, only for new ones to slide easily down as quickly as the others were gone. With a small noise, like ripping paper, my feet crunched their way back and each of my claws ripped itself out, slowly, for smaller human like toenails to grow in their place. The fur on my legs began to pull itself out, the flesh under it looking raw and bloody, similar to ground meat. As suddenly as they came, the changes stopped. I lay on the ground, hugging my stomach and waiting for the nauseating pain to ebb.
"There, that wasn't so bad, was it?" queried the chipper voice of my monarch. The bastard seemed almost… happy.
With multiple voices in my head, creating a chorus of 'Maim Him's' and 'F you, you son of a B's', I tried to express exactly how bad that was.
Unfortunately, along with the mind numbing pain that happened when I attempted to open my mouth, my tongue was not working. I suppose it had something to do with years of talking with tusks in your mouth, but words were most adamantly not forming. So I settled with a strangled moan and flipping him off with my new middle finger.
He, with a new spring in his step, called for one of my companions to come and get me off the ground and into the bed, because he obviously didn't want to stain his clothing. My friend walked in, and with a great garbled noise helped me onto the almost clean sheets.
Her voice, which always had a slight hiss to it, told me that I would be fine as long as I didn't move too much for a while. I wondered, somewhere between sleep and awake, how she knew that it was me she was talking to.
"You ssstill have a tail, ssssugar. You don't look completely human yettt." She said with a grimace on her reptilian face. She tried her best to lighten up the mood.
"You look like sssshhit, Heathher."
"Glood ta knew." I stated, trying to get used to my new mouth. The pain that faded, but I felt as if I had been sitting in a very small cupboard for a weak, and was just now able to move. Each of my muscles were cramped and sticky, and my bones popped when I moved. My mouth felt cottony and raw. I felt as if I had tried to eat a mattress, but in the process was maimed by a rabid wolverine.
That is to say, unpleasant.
So, with my tail swishing awkwardly at my side, I fell into a light and difficult sleep.
Sooo... what do you think? Like it? Continue it? Leave it be? Burn it in a pit that uses Mary Sues as fuel? Review!