noldien said: Hi! I hope this isn't too late, but for writing prompt, how about a drabble on Monet and how and why she got wings? Like an introspection of hers? Sorry if it's not very creative or you don't like her, it's totally alright. :D
Rated: K+
392 words
She was told to do whatever he asked of her.
Those were her instructions from Joker. She was supposed to keep an eye on Caesar, and protect him from harm. He was essential to Joker's plans, but he wasn't one of them. Caesar was not a member of their family, and so he couldn't be trusted. Monet would watch him, and while she was watching him, she would do whatever he asked.
It was not a job she was unfamiliar with. She was sly, conniving, and good at what she did. She could perform this job as easily as the ones she had worked in the past. She could wait, observe, and assist. Just like Joker ordered her to.
Except that Caesar was not like her usual charges.
"I want you to take care of the heart of my secretary, Monet."
She couldn't refuse him, because those were Joker's orders.
"…As you wish."
She hated it.
Her life was her own. She had sworn it to Joker, but it was still hers. Without her heart she was weakened, her life was no longer her own. Law held it in his hands, and Caesar had put it there.
It was a lack of control she didn't like. Her role in the family, the job she was given, and her duty to Joker — these things didn't leave her much freedom. But she was still her own person… Until she wasn't. Until her life was beyond her control.
She just wanted to rise above it.
"I want legs like theirs," she said. "Strong legs."
He regarded her with guarded amber eyes. He was not a likable man, nor did she trust him, but in that moment, she felt he understood. Perhaps he also knew something about losing control.
"Your legs are fine," he said.
"Please."
He smiled, that sly, devious smile. The kind of smile that warned her not to trust him. It was an honest smile.
"I can give you something better."
It was almost freedom. Almost. Soaring above the oppressive factory, above the snowy landscape and the dead land of magma and fire, she could forget that she was bound. She could forget that her life was not her own, that she was a gambling piece for others. She could forget that she was not in control.
In those moments, she was free.