Chapter Text
In ancient times, when swords burned and crowns were stained with blood, a young man fought for his land. He was a young hedgehog the color of the ocean, a prince with eyes sparkling like shooting stars and a joy that made fields bloom. But his kingdom fell, devoured by fire, what he remembered turned to ashes, and the wind carried those ashes away.
Without crown or riches, without family and alone, only his unbreakable free spirit remained.
They called him the clown of the market. A hedgehog who bathed in the fountain at the center of the plaza as if it were his personal tub.
They called him the town beggar, because he asked for food while sitting on a log and pretended to be blind… until, by accident, he praised someone’s beauty.
They called him the young man of good heart, because he helped the elderly with heavy loads… especially if they gave him something to eat in return.
Sonic had many nicknames. Each one was born from his daily antics, since he never said his real name. So people named him as they pleased, and rumors did the rest. He didn’t seem to care much; after all, there was a reason behind each madness.
For example: he didn’t bathe in the fountain for fun (though he admitted it was refreshing in summer). He was thrown in there. The street gypsies, seeing him perform in “their” territory, felt threatened.
(It wasn’t his fault he was more entertaining than a man swallowing torches while playing the flute with his feet).
So instead of applauding him, they grabbed him from behind, “recovered” his money, and tossed him into the water like a stone.
"Don’t mess with our territory, rodent" they said.
That’s when he came up with the blindfold. Not because he wanted to fool anyone, but because the sun was annoying when one slept outdoors.
Of course… as soon as someone tossed him coins, he opened his eyes and —surprise!— ran into a beautiful young woman.
She didn’t take it very well.
The nickname “young man of good heart” came later. Some elderly people in the market had been victims of soulless (and ill-mannered) tax collectors. Sonic, passing by with his hands in his pockets and his stomach empty, helped them pick everything up.
They thanked him with food and a corner to sleep: among the hay of a cart, wrapped in a blanket fine enough for a barn king.
The word: King. He had said goodbye to that long ago. He missed the luxuries.
There were times when sleeping was hard; he had grown up in a golden cradle, had a great estate, ran freely, came and went as he pleased. He missed the luxuries, not because he was vain —he was— but because there had been someone who cared for him.
If he ate.
If he slept.
If his bed was missing a pillow.
His friends, if they were alive, would laugh at him now—the prince who became a humble beggar.
He had endured hardships, for he had nothing when he arrived in that land; his first job didn’t last a second. In the town market there was a notice board next to a tavern, where many knights stopped to drink. He often stopped there to read the announcements, many of them job offers, but he had no success in any.
"Tax collector? "he read aloud. "No. Better not."
He moved on to another with many colors, recognized where it came from. The ship that always asked for new crew.
"I don’t even like ships… or the sea."
Then he moved on to another, one where he had to be a bounty hunter, with immediate pay. Sonic had to think carefully; he had skills with the sword, but then he’d have to stain his hands with blood. His stomach growled and hurt; he hadn’t eaten in many days, and that immediate pay sounded tempting.
"Move" ordered a voice, followed by a shove. It was a palace servant; no need to guess, he smelled of palace. And, as always, those who lived there treated people like Sonic as if they were trash.
The lackey posted another notice and, upon finishing, left not without giving Sonic a look of disgust. Sonic replied with a wink, and the lackey hurried away, muttering curses.
Sonic glanced at the notice, and what he read was almost a miracle for him. He quickly tore it down; he didn’t want competition for the job.
The blue hedgehog frowned slightly and then looked at the butler (that’s how the man had introduced himself.)
Sonic asked:
"Where are the other applicants for royal jester?"
The advisor replied after looking around:
"I think you’re the only one."
"And why’s that?2
"Maybe because not even a madman wants this job" he answered sarcastically. "Idiot, it’s obvious. Being a clown is falling low. Only a desperate one would…"
"Relax, you can continue" insisted the hedgehog, brushing it off. "Since I’m the only one, that means the job is mine, right?"
Sonic rubbed his hands, savoring victory with a “heh, heh.”
"No.
The butler’s refusal deflated him. Then he handed him a colorful uniform, though not colorful enough.
"You’ll be on trial. If you make the king laugh within five days, the job is yours."
Sonic replied after eyeing the rags. He knew the king’s reputation and how hard it was to make him laugh; he didn’t understand why they wanted a jester for someone who seemed like a stone.
"Hey, so I have to come and go during this trial?"
"Don’t address me informally, I’m older than you" the butler replied, signaling him to follow. "And to answer your question: no. Once you enter the palace, you don’t leave without the king’s permission. If you’re not dismissed, you’ll stay here."
Sonic ignored the “you’ll be confined here.” His attention focused on the fact that, at least, he’d have a roof over his head.
"Where will I sleep?"
The butler led him to the servants’ area, behind the kitchen, outside, in the orchard next to the farm animals, on the other side of the garden. A shed.
His new “room” was an old empty stable; once again he’d sleep on straw, though it was still better than the ground.
"I don’t want you dirtying the palace if you’re not accepted" was the last thing the butler said. "You start tomorrow."
He woke up with the noisy rooster. He thought it was because he had to start his trial job, but no: it was the royal cook singing as if he wanted to exorcise the kitchen.
Upon entering, Sonic expected his daily dose of contempt, but instead… bread.
"Yesterday I couldn’t give you anything, eat this" said the cook, offering him warm bread and milk. "Since you’re the jester, at least there’ll be entertainment… I mean, distraction… well, something."
"Wow, this is too much!" Sonic almost knelt before the blessed bread. He tasted it and it was so good he nearly ascended to heaven.
And he cried.
"WA! ｡ﾟﾟ(´□`｡)°ﾟ｡ It’s so delicious! Thank you… don’t you have sausages?"
The cook kicked him out in record time, saying things like “one is kind and they want more” and “your kind always wants to raid my kitchen.”
“His kind.”
This country belonged to the Scarlet Throne, and after the war all those without a homeland arrived as if fallen from the sky… but without being welcomed. They were all treated the same: foreigners, thieves, trash, future legal problems.
National self-esteem was sky-high. Sonic’s was on the floor.
"Well your bread is hard!" shouted Sonic, as they took the basket away. He was left with a miserable piece of consolation.
"There you are" said the butler, appearing like a ghost with moral judgment. "Did you steal that? Don’t steal while you’re here."
Sonic, unwilling to explain himself, shoved the whole piece of bread into his mouth in one bite. Level of rebellion: indignant snack at 1000.
The butler rolled his eyes.
"Come. It’s time for your trial."
"Perfect! I’ve got great jokes. What did the duck say to the hen?"
"Shut up" said the butler without a muscle of his face moving.
"Someone got up on the wrong side of the bed" replied Sonic, jingling his bells.
"Where did you get those noises?"
"Your uniform was boring, so I gave it my personal touch."
The butler looked him up and down as if he had just discovered a demon of bad taste. Only then did he notice the makeup.
"I won’t ask anything. With luck you’ll be out of the palace soon."
After many turns, they arrived at the throne room. Sonic recognized the door because it was obscenely large. Not because he knew how a throne room entrance should look, but because the door was enormous. Period. A door that screamed: “I’m rich.”
Inside, the hall was empty.
"You know, where I come from, tardiness was punished, even if you were king" commented Sonic very dignified.
"Shut up and wait" said the butler, and disappeared as if he had turbo.
Sonic was left alone in the hall that seemed designed to house three villages and a medieval market combined.
"ECHO!"
The hall responded, so Sonic continued the verbal duel with his new acoustic friend. Until he heard a sound behind the curtains. A breeze moved them dramatically, like in a cheap romance novel.
He pulled them aside. It wasn’t a window. It was a balcony overlooking the town.
"What king would be in a bad mood seeing this daily?" asked Sonic, forgetting that kings always find reasons.
Something fell to the ground. Another pebble. Then a drop on his cheek. Strange. It wasn’t rainy season.
And then Sonic saw him.
A black hedgehog, shorter than him, quills tipped in red, cape billowing as if announcing the arrival of the sexy villain in an expensive movie. He stared at the horizon with a face of “I hate my life but I do it with style.”
What was falling wasn’t water.
"NO!!" shouted Sonic with the lungs of a dramatic artist.
The other frowned as if seeing Sonic was a crime against aesthetics.
Sonic climbed the vines like a motivated alley cat and pushed himself up with a decorative statue that probably cost more than his soul.
"Don’t kill yourself! You have so much ahead of you!!"
The black hedgehog looked at him with an expression of: “What is this clown doing climbing my castle?”
"What? " he asked, with the voice of a tragic prince.
"I know life is hard, but dying isn’t the solution" said Sonic, stopping at a distance to avoid activating punch mode. "Look at me! I’m living proof that everything can go wrong… and I’m still here."
The hedgehog analyzed him like someone examining a defective product on sale.
"My eyes hurt just looking at you. Who the hell are you?"
"I’m your savior! —declared Sonic, approaching."
The other stepped back, almost kissing the void.
"Don’t talk nonsense. I don’t need your help."
"Stop, please!" begged Sonic.
That made him pause.
"You look like you have everything. If you fail once, you can try again. Life is beautiful!" said Sonic, while thinking: “DAMN, this is high! If I fall, I won’t even have a grave. I’ll be compost.”
"Getting what I want?" asked the black hedgehog.
"Yes. Look, I’m broke, unemployed, no family. My first love probably died in the war. And the only thing I have is my name."
The black hedgehog looked at him like: “Thanks for the shared trauma, I guess.”
"And what does that give me?"
"If I can, you can! Fight!"
The black one didn’t seem convinced… but something shone in his eyes.
And he let himself fall.
Sonic screamed internally, externally, and spiritually, and jumped after him to hug him.
"I GOT YOU!"
The other hedgehog made a face of: “Oh, holy heaven… (눈_눈).”
With one arm he held Sonic as if he were an uncomfortable handbag. With the other hand he grabbed the edge of a balcony, hanging as if carrying two people was his morning cardio.
Sonic: AAAH, IT’S SO HIIIIGH!! Σ(￣[]￣；)
The hedgehog Black: (¬_¬) deep inhale of royal resignation
And he let go.
But he didn’t fall. He descended with the grace of an aristocratic ninja trained by flying monks. He pressed Sonic against him and slid his back down the wall as if it were a scene designed to make people swoon.
He landed. Elegant. Dramatic. Perfect.
Sonic blinked. Three times. Or more.
And there, in front of the sun, the black hedgehog looked like an expensive poster.
As soon as he noticed Sonic’s drooling stare, he dropped him.
"Your Royal Highness!" shouted the butler from the hall. "YOU!"
He pointed at Sonic with an accusing finger.
Sonic barely managed to stand, because the butler shoved his head to the floor.
"Respect our great king"
"This suicidal hedgehog is the king!?" shouted Sonic, offended by the surprise.
The butler shoved his head again.
"Do not offend the king!!"