The Runaway Prince

Xavier P. O. V

"I'm going to be a motherfücking king!"

I didn't look up from the book I was reading, trying to calm myself down before I killed Daniel. My best friend and his whole 'I'm making a grand entry' thing always gave me a heart attack.

How do you calm down again? Something about counting backward?

I heard a scrapping noise and I knew he was sitting in front of me. I sighed in relief. Finally, he must've realized where we were -

"Didn't you hear me?" I'm pretty sure there were only a few people next door who hadn't heard him. "I'm going to be a king."

I started counting, refusing to look at him. Because a) looking at him made him real, and that meant I had to deal with him. And b) you do not just look up from a good book. Did Daniel not know how hard it was to find one - And just like that my copy of Sports Illustrated was stolen from me.

"Calm. The Fück . Down."

I wasn't entirely sure if I was talking to him or to myself.

"I'm going to be -"

"A king. Yep, got that." I massaged my temple.

To say that my best friend was excited was an understatement. "Now. I want you take a deep breath and look around. Where are we, Danny?"

Daniel did as he was told. There was absolute silence in the library. Twenty extremely annoyed heads were turned in his direction.

He had the decency to look sheepish.

"Come on," I shook my head, smiling despite myself.

I got up and led the way outside, Daniel following at my heels like an obedient puppy.

Once we were outside, we went to the cafe across the street. It was a homey little place

with potted plants and old school red- checkered tablecloth. The waitress was a twenty something blonde, who thankfully didn't try to flirt with me or Danny as I ordered us both some coffee.

"Six minutes and twenty one seconds. I'm impressed." I said, after she left. Not a word had come out of Daniel's mouth in that time.

He was actually sweating with the effort. "Go on."

"Your father is stepping down and the coronation is next month and you're going to be king which means I'm going to be king in your place." Daniel said, in one breath.

My brain took a minute to process that. "He's stepping down. Why?"

"Ask him yourself. You're coming with me."

"What? !"

I hadn't seen my father or my home in twelve years. I definitely didn't want to break that record now.

"He needs to see you. He asked me specifically to bring you with me." Daniel hesitated. "He isn't doing well, Xavier."

"He's sick." I thought about it. "Is he dying?"

Daniel glared at me. "Don't you dare talk to me about this like it's the fücking weather. I know you two have your problems but that man is the only reason we're alive and you know it."

It was my turn for a deep breath. I could easily disagree with that. If daddy dearest wanted me alive and well, he didn't have to send a trained professional with a gun as a birthday gift.

You'd think a note with some cake would be fine?

Naw, I'll preorder a grave and send you a few bullets to make it extra special .

But I didn't want to ruin my morning talking about my father. The ruining could wait until I had my caffeine.

"We will talk about this later." Before Daniel could open his mouth again - and man, was he furious - the waitress came to our table with a tray.

"So how's life back home?" I asked, casually.

"It's fine. I guess."

"You miss me?" I teased him.

"Of course, I miss you, you bloody idiot! I'm miserable. This isn't what I signed up for -"

"How's your girlfriend, Danny?" Cutting off Daniel mid rant wasn't usually effective, but the waitress was still there.

"Well, we broke up." He said, silently fuming.

"And no, it was not because she was suddenly interested in women like the last one."

The waitress set down two cups and left us. I think I saw her smile at his answer.

"Listen to me very closely." Daniel said, dead serious the minute she left. "The minute that crown's on my head there's no going back.

This little game we've been playing ends there.

So I'm asking you to think about it. Are you sure you don't want to come home?"

I sipped my coffee, unusually calm.

Considering the fact that he was asking me to decide what I wanted for the rest of my life.

(And there was that ruining I was talking about.)

Did I mention I was the firstborn Prince of Vetresca? Must've slipped my mind.

Royalty didn't mean being born with a silver spoon and pampered to the point your farts smelled like roses. Quite the contrary, my life was just a cruel joke to the Others from day one.

I ran away from the castle when I was fourteen. I came to New York and I worked at a restaurant as a dish boy. Glamorous, I know but I had no choice. I needed a new start.

So how does a royal family cover that screw up?

Daniel was my best friend since I was five. He was no DiCaprio, but he had a talent for acting and the same dark hair and blue eyes as me.

At that age, no one could even tell the difference.

So my best friend became my imposter.

I looked at Daniel. Looked at him properly for the first time today.

It struck me how different we'd turned out. I'd bleached out my hair and worn green contacts.

Danny's eyes had dark circles under them and his hair was tousled. I was down to my last sweatshirt and jeans and I'd been skipping meals to make up for rent. Danny wore a tailored black suit but he still looked more tired and gaunt than I did.

I wondered when was the last time he slept.

"I'm not coming home, Danny." I said.

"Congratulations. You'll make a fine king."

He laughed without humor. "Xavier, I can't handle a woman. You want me to handle your people?"

"You've done it so far -"

"Your father did it so far. You can argue with me about his - choices - but he was damn fine at what he did. I was born to serve you, not rule a kingdom."

"I consider this a service."

"So what happens when the council finds out?

They'll imprison me for the rest of my life.

They won't touch you but me -"

Daniel stopped short as the waitress returned.

"Yes?" He snapped at her.

The girl jumped a little. "I-um-Do you need anything else?"

"No, thank you." I gave her a smile to make up for Daniel's temper. "Oh, but could you get the bill? I think we're done here."

"The hell we're done -" Daniel started.

"We'll discuss this later." I said, pointedly.

After she left, I turned to Daniel. "I can't do this shît sober. Does your jet have a bar or do I need to go broke to afford some vodka?"

Danny was about to yell at me again when he understood what I was saying.

"Does that mean you're coming to Vetresca?"

"Well, that depends. We could go to Tahiti if you're up for it. You get the sweetest sangria and I'm all for body shots -"

"Quit jerking around." Daniel was all about snapping today. "Are you serious about this?"

I sighed. After that lovely speech about him getting behind bars, unfortunately, I was serious. I definitely didn't want the throne, but this was no place to discuss that.

"Lead the way, your highness."

Victoria P. O. V

__________________________________________

My target is kinda hot.

I smiled as I picked up the tray and headed to the kitchen. Handsome men were so hard to come by with my job. Whistling, I ziplocked the two coffee cups and put them in my waitress apron.

Oh, I wasn't really a waitress. (Not a creepy stalker either.) Speaking of creeps.

"Hey there, kitty cat." The barista behind the counter chuckled. The guy was neither sweet nor cute, so when he leered down my modest

white blouse, I had to resist the urge to punch him.

In the nuts. With brass knuckles.

Instead, I gave him a sweet smile. "How's it going?" Mr. Douche.

"Good, good." He ran a hand through his hair.

Yeah, baby. Dandruff is super sexy. " When did you start working here? I didn't see you sign in

this morning."

"I came in early." Okay, I was a good liar, but for what it's worth, I could've said "I'm a pretty

mermaid" and he wouldn't have blinked. Not when his eyes were still on my boobs. "Eyes up here, soldier."

"Hehe." More dandruff dislodgement. "Sorry about that."

I don't think the moron knew what sorry meant. Pity. I'd have to educate him.

Hey," I said, fluttering my eyelids and swaying my hips a little. "I spilt some coffee on my

apron. I'm so clumsy. I forgot where the washroom is?"

Yeah, because I have the IQ of a suckling pig and I'm too retarded to read well placed signs, I wanted to add.

I let my knight in shining armour show me where the little girl's room was. Turning around, I made a show of bumping into him.

"I-I'm so sorry. I just wanted to say thank you."

"Why, you're welcome." I swear I heard him mutter püssy cat as he walked away.

I rolled my eyes and locked the washroom door behind me. Men .

There was a black duffel bag in one of the stalls. I'd stashed it in here earlier. I placed the

apron with the cups inside it and stripped. It took me about two minutes to change into a blue cocktail dress and take off my blonde

wig. I redid my makeup, going hard on the contouring and smokey eyes.

I was proud to say I looked like a stripper minus the heels.

The walk through the cafe earned me a few indecent stares. Mr. Douche's car keys were in

my left hand. All I had to do was go to the parking lot, unlock his old rust bucket Chevy and drive to my apartment.

That's the Oxford definition of "sorry", as in, "sorry, I might have stolen your car". Dear Mr. Douche, never trust a clumsy püssy cat . Glad to have furthered your education.

The minute I got home, I was almost knocked over at the door by a little red head.

"Did you find him? Do you know who he was? How old was he? Was he cute-" My sister didn't any waste time.

"It wasn't a date, Ira." I told her, flopping down on the couch. My apartment wasn't fancy,

though it certainly could've been. White walls, a fold out couch, a coffee table, two mattresses. That was about it.

Ira arched a perfect brow. "So he wasn't cute?"

"No." I told her, thinking back to the man in the black suit. Danny, his friend had called

him. My target had crystal blue eyes, black longish hair and a jawline that could cut

diamonds

He honestly wasn't cute.

He was hot. Make-your-panties-catch-fire hot.

Yet this was my brain's assessment. This is what normal females feel about him , it told me.

The rest of me was awfully quiet about all this.

Guess that made me an abnormal female. Go figure.

"Details." Ira quipped, annoyed when I didn't say much.

"It's not a date." I repeated. "I was just scoping out the target."

She gave my borderline slütty outfit a oncevover, skeptical. "Right."

"Alibi" I explained, rolling my eyes. "If this blows up in my face tomorrow, I want the people in the cafe to remember I was there."

As the bîtch in blue rather than the waitress.

"Oh, that won't happen. We'll be fine." Ira replied, absently. It was her standard response every time I talked about 'negative' situations.

"So do you know who he is?"

I shook my head and gave her the ziplock bag, smiling a little. Funny, but if there was ever a

tall, dark, handsome stranger - "Ha!" Ira punched the air, triumphantly. "I knew it. Does he have a nice äss?"

Did I just say that out loud? Fantastic.

"Very. Very . Nice äss." I said, a little exasperated. Anything to get her to work faster. "Now please find out who it belongs to."

Ira hooked up her laptop to a DNA sensor. She snapped on some gloves and picked up a

cotton swab.

"Which cup is Somerhalder's?

"Somerhalder?"

"Ian Somerhalder. The email from the client said Blue eyes, black hair and you said he has a fine äss. Hence operation Ian."

"The red one." I said, shaking my head. My sweet little sister was watching too much TVD.

Ira took it out and swiped the rim of the cup, repeating the swipe on the sensor. I had to admit I'd been a little stingy about giving her the hundred grand she needed to buy the thing.

Now I wonder how I ever did my job without it. What is my Oh-so-mysterious job, you ask?

It was a simple three step process.

1) My clients sent me a name or description.

2) I found the target.

3) The target ended up in the bottom of the sea.

It was the family business. I didn't ask any questions and I didn't care so long as I got

the money.

Ira was searching for a match across federal and state databases. I guess I knew that it wouldn't turn up anything.

Which was why I'd put a microtracker on his blonde friend. Remember when I came back to the table and got snapped at by Mr. High and Mighty for no reason? Yeah, his friend had even smiled at me right before I attached it to his sleeve.

It kinda made me feel bad. Kinda. Yeah, yeah, I know. I'm a terrible person.

I told Ira about it and she brought up the screen. And ladies and gentlemen, we have a winner. A red dot immediately popped up. It was moving heading toward the docks.

I got up and began packing my - items. By items, I mean a variety of sharp objects. I worked best with guns, but there was something special about sharp cold metal that made me feel safer.

Ira wasn't too happy. "Do you really have to kill him, V?"

"You know how this works, sweetie."

"Let me come with you-"

"No." She was too young for this.

"I want to see Ian." She gave me her best puppy dog eyes. "You know, before you kill him."

I smiled, as I changed into a black leather suit. "Honey, for ten million dollars, I bet you can have dinner with the real Ian."

Xavier P. O. V

.

________________________________________

"I'd call this a rat hole." Daniel said. "But I think the rats would take offence."

I rolled my eyes, glaring at him. Okay, my apartment wasn't exactly The Ritz, but it had four walls and a roof. (Yes, they had holes and they were grimy. Bite me.)

The beauty of this place was that this was a neighbourhood that literally gave zero fücks about you. While nobody would come running if they heard gunshots, at least they didn't nose around your business.

Plus, the landlord had thrown in a slightly clean pillow.

Wasn't that good enough?

"On second thought, your highness should wait by the door." I said, tossing fake IDs into my backpack. "We wouldn't want to get them nails dirty."

Danny punched my arm. I expected him to say "I did have them manicured today" by the looks of them.

I didn't bother taking the few clothes I had left.

I honestly didn't care about my stuff here – everything was dirty, broken or both.

Well, there was one thing I really needed.

Daniel was now examining the broken lamp, sitting cross legged on the mattress. "Love the decor. Shîtty is very in this season."

"Move." I just said, ignoring him.

"On the upside, you'll never need wallpaper.

Dust bunnies got you covered." He said, trying to unscrew the bulb. "Why should I move-?"

There was a loud shattering of glass as the only window in my apartment broke.

Coincidentally, the lights gave out, plunging the neighbourhood into total darkness.

I thought I saw a shadow slip through the cracked glass into the room. I rubbed my eyes. I must be imagining things.

"Xavier." Daniel's voice was deathly quiet.

"Where are you?"

Shît. I'd forgotten Danny was scared of the dark.

I kept an eye on the shadow just in case, moving to where the mattress was on the other side of the room. It was so still, I convinced myself it was just a trick of the light. Nothing more –

A bullet whistled past my ear, leaving another hole in the wall behind me.

Great. Another gun wielding maniac blowing holes in my apartment. Because why the fück not.

"Danny, get down."

I moved quickly dodging bullet after bullet, ducking just as I reached him. He seemed to be plastered to the ground, almost blending with the mattress. I knew he could see me, so I just put a finger on my lips.

I took out the pocket blade in my jeans and ripped the corner of the mattress.

All the while shots echoed around me. By now, I knew whoever this was hadn't come prepared for a blackout. They were just blindly taking shots.

See, Danny. I thought, smiling. Shîtty is always stylish if it saves your äss.

A moment later, I found what I was looking for in the feathery down of the mattress.

Something cold and hard met my fingers.

Palming it, I took out another one.

I smiled as I heard the sound of an empty gun click.

My turn, cupcake.

Metal sliced through the air and there was a muffled scream, just as the lights came back on.

The assassin was pinned to the wall. He was dressed in black head to toe with a bullet proof vest and a mask. One of my throwing blades pierced the fabric over his shoulder. The other cut through his left leg, leaving a deep gash.

With a growl, he tugged the blades out. His eyes were fixed on Daniel who still hadn't recovered from the blackout.

He advanced toward him. I stepped in his way, trying to punch him. He easily avoided it, drawing a knife. He kicked me in the gut, s-----g the air out of me.

Wow. I saw stars floating around me. Either I was way out of practice or this guy was really good.

I threw a series of jabs and kicks. My opponent kept dodging me, managing to cut me more than once.

Soon we were both breathing heavily, and I saw an opening. I caught his hand and bent it at an angle. He dropped the knife. I tripped him up and he fell to floor.

Kicking the knife away, I pinned him to the ground.

Much to my satisfaction, he was trying not to scream from the pressure on his injured leg. It was odd how much power he'd packed, considering he wasn't as muscular I'd assumed.

"Who do you work for?" I asked, calmly. I knew the lines – I'd been through this multiple times.

There was no answer.

"How did you find us?"

Nothing.

"Who are you?"

Nada.

"Look, you better start talking." I ripped off the mask. "Before I -"

Forest green eyes stared up at me, wine red curls spilling all around her on the floor. She was covered in sweat and her skin was decorated with bruises. She had a cracked lip and she spat blood in my face.

I blinked. A girl.

A girl hit me.

I hit a girl.

I'm still straddling the girl.

Well, fück me.

As I just stayed where I was in shock, Daniel finally chose to come around. He decided he had to do something about our situation.

The future king calmly got up and hit our assassin on the head.

With the fücking lamp.