Perfectly Imperfect

Prologue

Avalon.

A magical island full of wonder and tranquility. A place where war hasn't threatened for hundreds of years and the inhabitants thrive under their benevolent ruler Morgan le Fay and her sisters. Legend has it that Avalon is actually the tree of life, born of a magical seed that Merlin the Great planted centuries ago, and that the magic of Avalon seeps from the very earth under which the roots of this great tree lie.

~oOo~

"Another!" The declaration was accompanied by the telltale thunk of a tankard hitting the floor.

The barkeep sighed quietly before retrieving the cup, filling it full of fresh ale, and putting it back on the table in front of the man. "There you go, Walter."

Walter snorted in disgust even as he downed half the ale in one go. "What the hell is this supposed to be, boy? The dregs of the barrel?"

The barkeep ran his hand through his dirty blond hair, raising his eyebrow a little. "Well you're the one who drank the rest of it."

The man bristled in indignation, but didn't try anything. The last time he'd been kicked out of this bar, it had been with a broken nose and a sprained wrist; the barkeep knew he was stupid, but at least this one learned from his mistakes. It was one of the reasons Walter was even allowed back.

"Remind me to ask for the wench next time," he said suggestively, knowing it would get a rise out of the boy even as he finished his drink and threw a few coins down on the table.

The barkeep glared at him, but said nothing. It was a little after dusk, which meant that the evening rush would soon set in and he would have to start cleaning up his dingy bar. Scrubbing more blood off the floor was not on his list of priorities.

"See you tomorrow, Felix," the man called as he walked out the door.

Felix rolled his eyes in disgust. Walter was here every day until dusk so his wife would think he still had a job. It was a ridiculous ruse and Felix only wished he could be there to witness the backlash when he finally got caught. Instead, he picked up a rag and cleaned off the bar, swept the floor, and mopped up the spilled ale in Walter's general area.

"So I take it you're on first shift today?" A feminine voice asked. Felix looked up from the spill to see Cordelia in the doorway. She was dressed as she usually was, in an apron and a dark blue dress with dirty lace trim and a tightly laced bodice that was terrible for modesty but great for business. Her black hair was braided into a wreath around her head, providing a perfect frame for those startlingly blue, charcoal-lined eyes that drove the drunks absolutely wild.

"Always."

"How's the old man doing today?" Cordelia leaned on the bar with her chin in one hand and a tankard in the other.

Felix rolled his eyes, both at the unintentional display of skin and the question. "Same as usual."

Cordie seemed to get the hint that today wasn't one of Felix's more talkative days and backed off a bit. While Felix finished cleaning up, she handled the first customers of the night.

Of course Felix's father took that as his cue to come out front and see his son doing the cleaning and the girl doing the "actual work." Felix barely had time to register the hand in his hair before it yanked him off the floor. He winced at the feeling, even knowing that his father hated when he showed weakness. 

"What're you doin', letting Cordelia run the bar on her own?" his father slurred. "All those guys eyeing her up, what kinda brother do you think you are?"

"I'm not her brother," Felix muttered against his better judgment. It was true that Cordelia's resemblance to Jaz was startling, but a father should know his own daughter from a bar wench.

"That's right. You're not. You're just a waste of space. Jaz and your mother shoulda lived, but they didn't. So get up and act in a way that doesn't make me regret keeping you."

"Elias, cut the boy some slack," one of the men called out. "He was just tryna get this dump in ship shape, and its not like there's anyone here who'd go near the girl with him around."

Elias scoffed in disgust, but released his son's head. "Get yer act together boy," he warned drunkenly before retreating into the back with a fresh bottle of apple mead.

One of the good bottles, too, Felix lamented silently, shaking his head. I just made that batch last week.

When he got behind the bar, Cordelia handed him a tankard. "You look like you need it."

He took the mead appreciatively. "Apple?"

"With a squeeze of lemon, just how you like it." She scrubbed at an imagined speck on the bar. "I don't know why you put up with that."

One of the men guffawed. "He doesn't have a choice, C. Crazy as Elias might be, he's still the boy's father."

She rolled her eyes in disgust, but said nothing; it was an unspoken rule between them that if Felix decided not to defend himself, she wasn't allowed to either. Felix didn't need her help.

He didn't need anyone's help.

*~*~*

He watched from the window, clothed in shadows. There didn't seem to be anything special about the boy. He was a little quiet for his age, and his father was clearly a drunk, but he was just a regular barkeep. 

So why did he have to keep watching him?

The answer was simple: because he wasn't just a regular barkeep. There had to be something special about him, or he wouldn't be in this cesspool of a village. He'd be back at the palace, waiting to see what adventures would come knocking. Speaking of... he was due back any minute now.

Soon, it approached: an inky silhouette with smoldering eyes. He took its hand and was whisked back to the palace.

"Report."

He knelt and bowed his head. "Nothing out of the ordinary. His father got drunk again. The wench was late. He handled few customers today and did not need to remove anyone by force. When I left, he was drinking something."

"Nothing out of the ordinary, you say?" He shook his head, but worried about what would come next. He was rarely asked for confirmation unless he was wrong. "And yet, he did not need to remove anyone by force."

"No."

He could hear the sneer in the next words. "And do you not think, as he removes someone by force every day, that this is... out of the ordinary?"

He trembled a bit. "I-- I didn't think about that."

"Then you shouldn't have said it, should you?"

He shook his head, but wisely refrained from speaking. 

The telltale sound of a tongue clicking echoed through the room. "Normally, this would warrant some form of punishment. Lying to me is one of the worst moves you could make, wouldn't you agree? But I'll give you one more chance. One more opportunity to learn the rules of the game. Today was a little boring for you, I take it?"

He didn't know how to answer, so he remained silent.

"Answer me." 

The words were quiet, barely a whisper, but he shivered in fear. "Y-Yeah, I guess..."

"Then how about tomorrow, we have a little... excitement?" 

He nodded, still staring at the flicker of firelight on the carpet. His neck was cramping and the fabric of his trousers grated on his knees, but looking up before he was told to would be far worse.

"Then tomorrow, I want you to go into the bar at sunset and make a scene. I want you to make him... escort you out. Make it a convincing performance, and maybe I'll consider leaving you in your current situation. Understood?" He nodded.

"Good. Don't disappoint me, Rufio. I have such high hopes for you. Dismissed."

Rufio looked up to see a flash of green in the darkness.