Graceling: Po's Perspective (Part 1)
Summary: An AU where everything is the same except it's in Po's perspective. Reposted from my AO3 because someone has to revive the Graceling fandom, and I'm not saying it's going to have to be me, but I'm definitely going to be doing my share.
Fandom: Graceling Realm Series by Kristin Cashore
Relationships: RaffinXBann, Katsa&Po
Characters: Po (Greening Grandemalion), Katsa, Raffin, Bann, Giddon, Randa, Oll, Tealiff
Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, Canon Compliant, POV Third Person, POV Greening Grandemalion, Action/Adventure, Suspense, Secrets, Enemies to Friends, Friendship, Love, Yearning, LGBTQ Themes, LGBTQ Character, Hopeful Ending
A/N: I dedicate this fanfiction to my favorite Graceling Discord pals for their lovely commentary and tips and viewpoints and basically just letting this story come true.
Thank you for being here, 06luve, Ammie, Catalina C., crwatters, dargamak, elinor (ikknowplaces), Ella/sweeteangel1, gridelinCarver, jay, levalee, London, Moonlight, PlantMom (Selas), and rebecca. It's been a wild ride, and I appreciate you guys for being here from day one. You helped this fanfiction come to life with your comments and advice.
An even bigger thank you to my lovely beta and fellow Discord pal, likoricke. You helped me a ton with wording, awkward phrases, and characterization. My only regret is not having you aboard sooner. :)
You guys never stopped being encouraging. Something as simple as that makes all the difference. A thousand and one blessings upon you. (heart emoji)
PO HAD SPENT TWO DAYS scoping out Murgon City in Sunder, figuring out the order of the guards, the times the shifts changed, and all of the ways to sneak into the castle that would keep Po from being spotted. Once the darkest hours of night fell over Murgon City, Po knew it was time. He grabbed his bag, put on his cloak, sheathed his knife, and headed out for Murgon's castle.
Po had talked to no one in Murgon City, not even bothering to arrange a stay at an inn. He'd planned on staying only as long as necessary to find his grandfather, and the safest way was to do that without letting rumors start about a Lienid in the city.
The city was dead at these early hours. Not a soul was out on the streets, though Po had his doubts given the erratic movements his Grace sensed around him. They were distant scratches to Po's mind, giving brief glimpses rather than whole forms and coherent thoughts Po was used to sensing. It was a thick and eerie night when Po's Grace struggled to identify what was around him. Maybe it was someone Graced that held that ability… the Royal Continent had a bigger variety of its Graces than Lienid did. Or maybe, just maybe, it was Grandfather signalling to him… Whatever it was, it risked compromising the plan. Po tightened his hold on the knife under his cloak and crept closer to the castle.
The castle was within sight when they came again. Biting. Footsteps along the walls. Panting. This wasn't human, or at least it wasn't an Ungraced one. A human had order and predictability in their movements. A human had reason.
Several images flashed through Po's mind in such quick succession that they made Po lean against the side of a building to steady himself: blood dripping, swords laying forgotten on cobblestone, and the front gates of Murgon's courtyard open. Po broke into a run, as fast and as quiet as he could manage, because despite these strange scenes, it was at a place he recognized. He pushed from the wall and sprinted through the city streets, ever closer to that scratching, that scampering, and those hitched breaths.
They grew louder still. When he finally emerged over the hill, the erratic glimpses came to a halt, as if Po had come too close too fast. A row of guards lay unconscious on the cobblestone path, blood oozing out from under them, their swords forgotten, and the front gates unlocked behind them. A mouse emerged from one of the guards' pockets and dove for the grass. It must have been a long time these guards were unconscious when the animals began to get close, Po thought. Whoever had been here, they were a fighter to have known how to knock down several guards at once… and whoever they were, Po was having a hard time reading them.
For all he knew, there could have been eyes on him already. Po pulled his hood lower and readied his knife as a precaution. He then slipped through the gates, careful not to make a sound. He passed by what must have been a dozen posted guards down the central path, unconscious even when Po nudged them. Whoever had beat him here, they were fast and thorough, too. The guards' weapons were still in their sheaths. The intruder must have known what they were doing, because the alarms were not set off either. Was it thieves? A spy? A sign that Grandfather was here?
Po sensed more scurrying coming from the direction of the eastern tower. If it were Grandfather, Po would have heard his thoughts too, but more of these quick glimpses were low in the grass, unpredictable. Was it a prisoner…? An escape…?
Po dashed for the tower, then stopped in his tracks, because this time his Grace worked perfectly: he sensed that familiar human movement coming straight to Po from the castle. And it wasn't just any person, it was a woman. Although she ran through the shadows of the courtyard, Po could see her as clear as day with the help of his Grace. She was silent yet powerful in her movements, aware of how every limb of hers moved and every noise around her. She had good reason to be here, whoever she was, and even though Po did not sense his grandfather, it was strange that this was the only person Po saw and sensed who was conscious around the castle. Po put his back to a tree and waited for the right moment.
When the woman neared him, Po sprang from his cover. He grabbed her from behind, his knife at her throat. He felt surprise jump through her like lightning, but he held her down firm. "State—" your purpose, he wanted to say, but in an instant, she had deadened Po's arm. She wrenched the knife from his other hand and threw it to the ground. She then took a half-second to steady herself before she flung him forward, over her shoulders. She was so fast that Po had no chance to avoid her, but he did twist as he fell, landing on his feet in front of her. Was this the fighter his Grace could not make out?
No, it wasn't. She was someone else. This woman let Po know in an instant that she knew he was a Graced fighter. And unless he had no feeling in the hand that'd grabbed her torso, it was terrible that he knew she was a woman under her boy's clothing… and not just any woman. She was who the rumors spoke of.
She was right, Po had lost most of the feeling in that arm. But he would not let her know, not about his arm or her identity. Instead, he straightened and turned back to face her. He caught her eyes under her hood. "I've heard of a lady with this particular Grace," he began.
She had not heard his Lienid accent before, though most people on the Royal Continent had not either. Not many Lienid traveled this far inland to Sunder and the Middluns unless business called them. It was important that she knew who he was, so that she could know what to do with him.
When she did not reply, Po continued on. "I can't think what that lady would be doing so far from home, running through the courtyard of King Murgon at midnight." It did not matter if she would not speak. All she needed to do was think the thoughts that linked Po to her.
The woman shifted, ready to strike again as she studied Po. She was in a hurry, and it was dangerous that he knew who she was. But if he was Lienid, she didn't want to kill him. This, Po decided, was worth exploring.
He smiled, because he was a simple Graced fighter who had no perception of the Lady Killer's thoughts and feelings, and he was growing rather tired of doing all the talking for a woman who'd flipped him over her shoulder at midnight. "Don't you have anything to say, Lady? Surely you don't think I'll let you pass without an explanation?"
She watched him, quietly, unyielding. She was hesitant to do much to him, given that she didn't know who he was. Po raised his arms to show the golden rings on his fingers to clue her in. Fortunately, that got her going. She took in the hoops in his ears and the rings, both of which sparkled in the night, and then his strange accent. "You're a Lienid," she summarized.
"You have good eyesight," Po replied, because she did not know he was playing along with her.
"Not good enough to see the colors of your eyes."
Her voice was calm despite the energy flying through her. Po laughed, because he didn't think this woman so bold given her stories and their predicament. "I think I know the colors of yours." The stories had said her eyes were beautiful despite the cruel killing Grace they gave her: blue as the sky and green as the Middluns grasses outside Randa City. Her name was Lady Katsa of the Middluns, and she was infamous on the Royal Continent.
Common sense told the Lady Killer to kill him, yet she didn't move. "You're one to speak of being far from home," she noted. "What's a Lienid doing in the court of King Murgon?"
And what's a Lady Killer doing up when the other guards are down? Po wanted to ask. He tilted his head at her. "I'll tell you my reasons if you tell me yours."
"I'll tell you nothing, and you must let me pass."
"Must I?"
"If you don't, I'll have to force you."
She might have been Graced with killing, but Po was Graced with knowing her movements before she made them. "Do you think you can?" he asked. The stories had said the Lady Killer was ferocious, but how useful was it against someone like Po?
She moved to prove her point. She faked to her right, and he swung away easily. She did it again, faster. Again, he escaped her easily. The Lady Killer knew he was very good, but she was Katsa. She was better. "I know I can," she insisted, and Po grinned.
"Ah, but it might take you hours," he warned.
The Lady Killer wondered why Po was playing with her. Why wasn't he raising the alarm? Perhaps he was a criminal himself, a Graceling criminal. And if so, did that make him an ally or an enemy? He, being a Lienid, would approve of what she was doing here... unless he was a traitor, unless he didn't approve of rescuing people, and unless he didn't know the contents of Murgon's dungeons.
The Council, whoever they were, would have told her to kill him. She considered him a risk if she left a man alive who knew her identity. At the same time, he was unlike any thug she'd ever encountered. He didn't feel brutish or stupid or threatening to her, like Murgon's guards had. She trusted him. And she couldn't kill him. She was a fool and she would probably regret it, but she wouldn't do it.
Po didn't know whether he was lucky or she was indecisive, or both. What stroke of good fortune it was that the Lady Killer would not kill him because she trusted him, because he was different, because he was Lienid. And she may have been acting like a fool in letting him keep his life, but there was no doubt that she played a bigger role in Lienid matters. Not many on the Royal Continent bothered to interest themselves in the Lienid… Why was she different? What was she doing in Murgon's dungeons?
Whoever this Lady Killer was, Po would not stand in her way, not when she looked kindly towards the Lienid people. Perhaps one of those people was Po's grandfather, or perhaps it was someone else. Po decided on the former, because he didn't want to stand against someone who had a chance to have rescued his grandfather.
"I trust you," he decided. He stepped away and waved her forward.
The Lady Killer thought him very strange and impulsive. She had a point: he did look like that when she wasn't aware of his true Grace. When he relaxed his guard, the energy pooled in her legs as fast as the wind of summer monsoons on Lienid, and he knew she intended to knock him out. It took only a moment for her to raise her boot, but by the time Po could react, she'd already clipped him on the forehead.
The world fell into darkness as Po collapsed to the ground.
He didn't know how long he was out, but it felt like the blink of an eye. He was awakened by a sour taste in his mouth, a headache, a nudge from a guard's foot, and yelling. The erratic glimpses from before were gone, too.
With a groan, Po accepted two cold truths: the first was that he'd underestimated the speed at which the Lady Killer moved, faster than anyone he'd fought before. Worse, the second was that even with the aid of his Grace, the Lady Killer had taken Po's chance of finding his grandfather undercover away from him.
"Get up, Graceling," one of the guards ordered. "King Murgon wants a word."
Po rubbed his throbbing head where the Lady Killer had left her mark. He'd wound up walking into the Lady Killer's mess, and he'd spend today having to clean it up. By now, all of the Royal Continent would know there was a Lienid in Murgon City, and they'd be hiding Grandfather better than ever. With the trouble she'd caused, Po at least hoped she had his grandfather.
He stood with the help of the guards and was escorted to Murgon's court.
So much for the quick trip to Sunder.
