LUCAS the BETRAYED [[The Red Queen Fan Fiction]]

Just a foolish kid in an intricate world

"Again." My uncle barks.

I rub my eyes with the back of my hand, struggling to focus in the early hours of dawn. My target, a man-shaped pillow in a Red uniform, greets me eerily in the dim light like a soldier frozen on a grassy plain. Part of me thinks I'm dreaming, but the ache in my muscles is all too real. Like a military squadron, my cousins fire whatever spare metal pieces they can convince to fly at their targets.

Most 12-year-olds get to sleep in on the weekends. Me? Nope, I'm a Samos. Weekends are worse than going to school.  Ever since I moved my first metal spoon my mornings have been filled with rigorous training exercises. Gone were the days of a leisurely childhood. Instead, my cousins and I do push-ups. Attack the targets. Sit-ups. Attack the targets. Run laps. Attack. Pull-ups, planks, arm curls, squats, attack. We strengthen every muscle group and attack in between. When the sun sets in a blazing orange sky, training ends with a final assault. The goal? Throw everything you can at your target and make the biggest mess for the Red servants to clean up.

Next to me one of my younger cousin flings what must be a hundred needles towards her would-be victim. During their flight she somehow twisted the needles and pierced the back of the head. To young to understand the meaning of the action, we turn to each other and chuckle at the target's new hairdo.

"Evangeline!" Uncle booms. We freeze. She tightens her lips into a thin line and stands at attention like a soldier. Gently, he rests a hand on her shoulder. "Your aim is accurate. But the back of the skull is not an effective target. Shoot for the eyes, ears, jugular, heart...Try again, my dear."

His soft tone is unfamiliar to my ears. But she is the "most talented magnetron our family has ever seen"...and also his daughter. My uncle is kind to her, but I feel pity more than jealousy. He keeps a watchful eye on his precious daughter. Although she's four years younger than me, she's already molded into the perfect fighting machine. I don't doubt that I would lose to her in the arena. Her attacks are unforgiving, exploiting every weakness.  And as my uncle likes to point out, I have many.

Without protest Evangeline nods and clasps her hands together. A harsh focus flares in her eyes. She jerks her hands apart. Needles rip from the target's head and twirl around him like a shimmering silver storm. She dangles her arms in the air–twisting and spinning the needles into perfect alignment like a puppet master pulling invisible strings. Faster than I can blink, her arms flash down across her body. I flinch, feeling the metal strain to obey her quick demand. When I open my eyes, the target still shakes from the impact. Its eyes, ears, heart, and neck overflow with metal pins crowded together at every weakness my uncle mentioned. A few stray pieces of straw fall to join the others piled on the grass. I join my cousins and cheer as she cocks her head, a snide smile on her face.

The corner of my uncle's lips pull into the tiniest smirk. "Excellent," he announces. Then shouts an order for all of us, "Recite the Samos creed!"

"I am power. I am strength. I am a magnetron," my cousins recite from memory. I barely mumble the words, butchering my cousins impromptu performance. Of course, my uncle notices. With a quick turn of his heels he faces me. His smile replaced with a familiar scowl with a familiar meaning: disappointment.

"Lucas..." He growls and slowly cranes his neck to examine my untouched target. It grins, helpless under our gaze, still in perfect condition.

"I'm just tired," I lie. "Maybe, if you let us sleep in..."

Evangeline stiffens, knowing as well as I that complaining about training is walking on thin ice. My other cousins however, can't hide the shimmer of hope in their eyes.

"A true Samos never sleeps in." He sneers, dashing our fragile hope. "Do you know why we are the strongest of the high houses?"

"Uhhh," I shift nervously under his steel gaze. Because we're magnetrons. Because we're wealthy. Because we're a threat to the crown. I could say any of those and itwould be acceptable to my uncle, but I say nothing.

"While the other houses enjoyed their beautyrest, we trained. Generations later, that extra time spent in practice created consistency. The Samos are warriors. And they know–" He leans down to my level. Sweat drips from my brow. I swear, if my metal boots weren't suddenly so heavy I would run. "–We could kill them all with a twist of our pinky."

Out-loud he was talking about the other houses, but I've heard the stories. I know the double message hidden in his words. The Samos name will never belong to a weakling...at least, not for long. My uncle would snuff out any weakness himself. And at the moment, that means me. He doesn't say another word. As he jerks his head towards my target I can almost hear his request: Impress me...or else.

With shaky hands I turn to stare down the lane. Evangeline's target looks like an acupuncture session gone horribly wrong. On my other side even Thames' target has a few holes that show his accuracy is improving.

I touch my palms together. Closing my eyes, I listen to the metal song around me. The razor-plates behind me hum a low key. Cannon balls moan from their storage rack. The metal clothes on my cousins, uncle, and I all whisper a sweet harmony. But Evangeline's needles squeal–practically begging to fly again. My uncle taps his metal boot. I'm running out of time.

He sighs. I tighten my gaze. Don't blink, old man. Before my uncle can finish his sigh I latch onto Evangeline's needles. Plucking them from her victim I slash sideways and punch them deep into the ground on the other side of my target. For several moments nothing happens. I hold my breath. Did I miss?

Then, like a dripping candle, my target droops into nine sections. Each piece slides away and melts into the ground. I had practiced that move for weeks but today was the first time it actually worked. I grin at my success, forgetting what the straw-man represents.

My uncle doesn't smile. He doesn't acknowledge my accuracy or how deep I buried the needles with a single stroke. Nor does he complain about my form and modern hand gestures, or how the Red servants have to nothing to salvage and will have to make another target from scratch.

Instead, he huffs and walks away silent. It's the greatest compliment he's ever given me.

"That is all for today." He says over his shoulder. My cousins run off to practice their hobbies and other enjoyments. But I watch my uncle. He pauses at the edge of the garden, "Well done, Samos."

Warmth flutters in my gut. You could call it pride. I raise Evangeline's needles from the ground and float them in front of her. A kind gesture, I thought, instead of making her try to dig them up herself. Grinning like a fool, I didn't notice her sour with jealousy.

With a bounce in my step, I head towards my favorite tree in the garden behind the family's main house.

Today is a good day.