As I look down on our dear Fleetfoot, I come to realize that neither of the duo are doing well. Finally they are both in the same castle. Of course with their luck, neither of them knew it.
Fleetfoot lay on the cold, stone table in the throne room, stomach down, looking up with narrowed eyes at the Adderhead. The Adderhead was smiling wickedly on his throne of silver watching the apprentice of his enemy be whipped until he bled out his ears. And Fleetfoot wasn't far from it. In addition to his neck pains, his back had a total of 37 slashes. The pain was horrid. 38 now, thanks to Basta's quick whip.
"Ugh…" he groaned for the first time. He was trying not to show how much pain he was in. Basta laughed.
"Finally giving in are you?" 39. Basta grinned.
"Giving in to what?" asked Fleetfoot stubbornly. 40 was extra hard.
"You finally squealed. Usually takes only a few for them to start moaning. Don't worry though. When I'm done with you you'll--"
Regrettably, Fleetfoot didn't find out what would happen when Basta was done. Because at that moment the huge silver doors slammed open and a guard came barreling in, carrying a tall man with moleskin hair like a sack on his back. Fleetfoot identified the old lady slinking behind them as the same Decomposing Dooshbag (a/n: wow.. Dooshbag? Dane Cook fatally effects your vocabulary) that wanted to poison him!
He flipped onto his back, the moment he saw it was Bluejay. Seconds later, he regretted it considering the sting it gave his back. Basta had stopped dead, grinning. Fleetfoot couldn't help it any longer. "BLUEJAY!"
Everyone in the throne room gave him a cold stare.
"Shut him up, Basta!" the Adderhead cackled.
Basta advanced on him. With a swift kick, Fleetfoot pounded him in the gut.
"YOU LITTLE--" he groaned. Before anyone could move Fleetfoot bounded off the table and grabbed the closest goblet he saw. He swung a punch at the man carrying Bluejay. The man ducked easily, dropping Bluejay with a thud onto the floor. He came up again, this time with a sword. Fleetfoot dove sideways and pegged the entire goblet, wine and all at Blujay's head.
He landed hard on his back, writhing and recoiling in pain, but he was quite proud. Bluejay was waking up. The first word out of his mouth were…., "DAMN! That hurt!"
That's when the whole throne room dove into action, save for the women and Adderhead who contented himself in watching.
Bluejay rubbed his head and stood up immediately saying, "Aw.. Shit.. FLEETFOOT! GET YOUR SORRY ASS OVER HERE!"
He unsheathed his sword which had been cleverly hidden on the inside of his pants. Fleetfoot looked up at him with a peeved look and pointed at his back. He was even more annoyed to find that Bluejay wasn't paying attention but crazily battling his way towards the door.
Fleetfoot dragged himself off the floor and ran over and recklessly began fist-fighting which wasn't much help. He looked down and grabbed the sword of a severely wounded man who with his last gasping breath said, "DON'T TAKE MY SWORD, YOU FILTH!"
This made Fleetfoot smirk and he stole it, kleptomaniac that he is. Making matters even worse, he helplessly realized that he'd never swung a sword in his life. Not to mention that as he looked up, there were so many soldiers, there was no way Bluejay would be weaseling his way out of this one. 'We're all gonna die..' was all he could think. Pessimistic? Yes. A lie? Yeah.. Right..
A/N: I know the ending is a little rough but I just really want to get to Bluejay's POV. I know it is not the authors job to do that but.. Hey! I'm an amateur for goodness sake!And sorry for the shortness.