A/N:
Hi! This is the first story I dared to publish, so please let me know what you think! I'd love any kind of feedback!
Oh, and I don't own Grimm or any of the characters involved.
Enjoy!
The Royal Game
Chapter One: White Knight
"No! No, I'm not gonna do it!" Five exasperated looks pierced Nick Burkhardt. Rosalee, Juliette, Monroe and Renard were acting like strict parents, dealing with a rebellious child, Nick thought, filled with annoyance. How hard could it be to understand that he valued his independence more than his safety? They were all overreacting, his Blutbad friend being the best example.
"Things have changed, Nick! With you not being a Grimm any more", his Wesen friend shot back, then cringed as Rosalee stepped on his foot. "Of course it's only temporal. Just until we can figure out how to turn you back into that ass-kicking, scary guy, you know?"
"I said no."
"Maybe you should consider it. We don't know whether the Verrat have given up on killing you and, seriously, you can't deny you've made some powerful enemies. I'm sure we could arrange everything..." Even Juliette was siding with them. Wouldn't they ever stop?
Crossing through his assembled friends, he came up to face Trubel. Lately she seemed to be the only person that didn't want to persuade him to do anything. She simply hung back and made sarcastic comments – something he'd learned to appreciate. Now the girl was leaning against the door-frame, watching the argument with a disinterested look. However, when she did give her opinion, it was the same as the others. Pledge yourself to the Royal. Trust the Captain, he'll make sure you're one safe little human. Nick was relieved when a text from Hank provided an excuse to get away.
"What is it?", Renard asked, recognizing Nick's mien as the one that meant police business.
"Got a robbery down at twenty-second", Nick said, masking his delight by turning away to grab his jacket and then nodding to his Captain in apology, who was waving him off. Monroe also reached for his coat, obviously wanting to accompany him to the scene.
"Don't. I need some time to think. And I'm not a helpless kitten, I brought a gun. See?" God, was he tired and so sick of it all. If Adalind had wanted to make him a close acquaintance to desperation, she would have already achieved her goal.
"I still think..."
"No."
"But what if..."
"Let him go. The offer still stands, he'll accept it when he's ready", Renard said from his position on the couch. Even injured, his words carried enough weight for Monroe to let Nick pass. This was embarrassing. Nick hated the thought of being the weak link so much he could barely live with himself these days. Then his hand closed around the cold object in his pocket. There were a few choices that were still his own.
"Renard, catch!" Nick turned around halfway and tossed his Captain the artifact. There was a moment of astonished silence while the Prince eyed the key. Once he'd stolen it, now he received it as a gift.
"It's the real one, in case you were wondering." Renard's face didn't betray any emotions, whereas his friends seemed a little shocked. Even though they were in possession of two keys, giving one to the Prince of Portland had clearly not crossed their mind. Nick, on the other hand, had spent quite a long time thinking about the subject. After recent events, for example the break-in at the spice-shop last week, he had found it prudent to separate the keys. And judging from the guarded expressions of his friends, they weren't arguing.
"Thank you, Nick. Rest assured I will take care of it", Renard said earnestly and got up to show him to the door. His movements were careful, and although his expression stayed regal and blank, he had to have been in pain. Three bullets in the chest weren't a slight injury, no matter how the Prince tried to play it down. On his way to the crime scene, Nick pondered whether his trainee Grimm might have a crush on the injured Captain. She was kinda acting strangely whenever he was around since she'd saved his life – decapitating a Verrat assassin in the process. He just hoped she wasn't thinking about leaving again, they needed a Grimm in Portland and honestly, Nick was grateful for the protection for Juliette she provided..
"Even if she is, I wouldn't be able to convince her otherwise. She's as stubborn as I am", he said, feeling resigned. Shots in the distance pulled him back into reality. What was going on there? With screeching brakes, he arrived in front of an exclusive Armani fashion store.
"There is another of them buggers inside! And he's got a gun!", one of the patrol officers informed Nick, who held his gun ready. There windows of the shop were broken, ammunition sprawled on the sidewalk. Could very well be a P.15 Standard, Nick realized, judging from experience and the shells. At the same moment, a small door at the back of the house opened and a man stuck his head out. More shots rang through the air as the criminal fired at the cars blocking the exit. When the officers had taken cover, the gunman exited in full run. Nick gave chase without thinking.
"Hold! Portland PD!" Of course the robber didn't stop, rather shooting blindly over his shoulder. The Detective dove behind a trashcan. Eight, nine, ten, eleven. The attacker had five shots left at most, so Nick fired his own gun into the air. The provocation worked as the fleeing robber used another three bullets.
"It's over! Drop the weapon and surrender!", Nick shouted, knowing from the layout of the streets that both branch-offs were dead ends. Slowly, he risked a look at the man, also noticing his back-up at the far end of the alley. Determinedly, he motioned for them to stay back as there was no cover whatsoever for them until they would reach the trashcan. He might not be Grimm anymore, but he had this.
"Get out of my way or I'm gonna shoot everyone!", the robber threatened from around the corner. Nick shot the stone right next to the criminal, receiving another return. The head had disappeared, although Nick couldn't hear any retreating footsteps. That meant that the robber had to be right behind the wall, closer than six feet away, probably scared out of his mind and tense as a drawn bow, hand on the trigger. The Detective smiled and pushed the trashcan in the direction, using both his feet for maximal force. Rumbling loudly, the container moved.
"What the fuck?!" His ploy had worked, a bullet was hitting the can with a metallic bang. Now! Nick sprinted around the corner, not flinching when a gun was presented and triggered right in front of his face, enjoying the hollow clicking sound. Expertly, he cuffed the robber and brought him out into the street.
"You're under arrest. Everything you say can and will be held against you in a court of law. You have the right to have an attorney...", Nick explained smugly, shoving the man into a waiting police car. He was so drunk on the moment that he didn't even notice the man staring daggers at him from the front seat of a car.
With a dark look in the direction of the robber, Renard backed out of his parking space and returned to the precinct.
The Prince of Scotland shook his head in disbelief. He was tempted to ask whether his informant was absolutely sure about the issue, yet he knew that the man didn't make any mistakes. The Reaper did know what the costs for mistakes would be.
"How careless", he said and allowed himself to smile. Renard had finally made an error, making an irrational decision that would cost him dearly once the Scotsman's plan had been launched.
"Unless you already have the key and he's become a burden", the Prince mused, "Which means you want us to snatch him up. What do you gain by the Grimm's death?" The answer was easy: if Nick Burkardt was killed, nobody would be able to get to the key, because nobody was alive to tell where it was hidden.
"Except yourself, my favorite foe. It would be a smart move indeed, as nobody would dare to touch a Royal. You would have the device for yourself." Hearing the situation out loud, the Prince was convinced his deductions were faultless. Now, what could be done about it? He needed leverage, something to tell the council so they would declare his old rival fair game.
After a moment of consideration, he allowed the informant to rise from his knees. As soon as the huge man stood, the Prince threw a dagger at him, which the man caught effortlessly. They shared another humorless smile as the informant read the name on the blade.
"When do you want it done?"
"Soon."
