Measle {Miniture but Mighty}

(this doesn't have much to do with Measel, but it includes how he met Jackdaww, so feel free to have a gander)

Scandal! The word echoed inside the head of a young woman like a siren. She had been in the palace for little over a year, but she had remained hidden for the whole time. Secretly courting one of the King’s own lords, but now she couldn’t stay. She had born him two children now, and there was no way she could show herself. Her wings set her far apart from the humans within the palace – black as pitch, yet spangled with glittering, green speckles. They were beautiful, but they were definitely not…human.
The lord had welcomed the sight of his son, and way quite besotted with him, but he wouldn’t even look at his daughter. She was barely a day old, yet it was already clear that she was nothing like her brother. A tiny pair of green-speckled wings was folded down her back, like a tiny angel. Her mother thought she was perfect, but her father wouldn’t tolerate her. “Get that thing out of my sight. Throw it to the dogs, turn it out, or kill it yourself, but she cannot stay here.” had been his words. He didn’t care that she was his daughter, she meant nothing to him. He was pleased with his son, who was as normal on the surface as any other child, with raven-dark hair, and a strong grip from his first breath, but turned the tiny avian away.
The woman couldn’t bring herself to part with the child, so she hid her in the stables. That night she watched through the window as her cruel lover showed off his newborn son – her newborn son, and realised that there was nothing left here. She gathered up the scant belonging she had accumulated during her stay, and packed them up. She scrawled a note to her lover, and ran to the stables. There she found her daughter, curled up peacefully in the straw. She wrapped strong arms around the child, and walked casually towards the castle gate. The guards had already locked up for the night, and retired to their chambers, so she had a clear exit.
Crouching low, she launched herself into the air before spreading her wings. With a few wing beats she was clear of the palace, and was flying away from the stone walls as fast as she could. Her arms cradled the tiny child, and she never once looked back.
Out of the window, the new father saw a flurry of star-spangled feathers, and leapt up to see what had happened. He shouted out of the window as he saw the woman leaving, but it was futile. He rushed outside, and found the note pinned to the empty stable where his strange lover had been staying. Tears welled in his eyes as he read the cruel words, but they were for his beloved, not his daughter. He wiped his face, and strode back inside; ignoring the redness in his cheeks, and refused to think of the two Avians again. He soon forgot about them completely, and simply took up caring for his son.
After days of flying and camping, the woman and her child had reached a town far enough away from the castle for the girl to be safe. The woman had no idea how to care for the girl, and since now she had no home either, she didn’t feel she could keep her daughter. The child gurgled and chirped with laughter as her mother dressed her in a strip of cloth from the hem of her dress, and pinned a note onto the fabric. She was oblivious to what was about to happen to her.
The woman carried her child into the city of Shayenne, where the community seemed kind enough to accept her daughter, and sat on a bench in its centre. Big tears rolled down her face as she held the child close, but the night sky hid them from the rest of the world.
As the sky paled before dawn, the woman finally released the child from her embrace. The baby was sound asleep, and gurgled a little as she was moved. The woman took a tiny chain from her pocket, and clipped it around the wrist of the baby. Attached to it was a tiny heart-shaped charm that she had bought a few days before from one of the towns they had passed through. There was a message carved into it, meant only for the child, which would one day explain why she had had to leave. Tears welled up in her eyes again, and she planted a soft kiss upon her child’s forehead before standing up. Dawn was just breaking on the horizon, and people were beginning to stir within their homes, and the woman let quickly to avoid the rush, tears streaming down her pale face. She was gone before the first resident left their home, and was never seen there. All she left behind with her daughter was a single, green speckled feather.
The day after the woman had left, the lord was approached with a great many questions. Most he answered as he chose to, or simply shrugged away, but one was affected by the note left for him the night before. What was he going to name his son? The note had left him with a name, and some part of him told him that he should listen to it. “Jackdaww.” He answered, finally. “His name is Jackdaww.” He made sure that he remembered both Ws on the end, as the note had firmly instructed that they were important, and went back to the small chit-chat of the court. He didn’t think of that note for many years, but the day would come when he thought of it once more.
That morning in Shayenne there was to be a city council meeting, so almost every resident in the city was outside that morning. Therefore, everyone was there when the child was found. She had gone unnoticed on the bench for some time, until she woke to find the crowd of strange faces and smells. She began to scream with all her might, and cried until she was red in the face. The whole crowd turned to see what the fuss was, and the couple nearest the child picked her up to sooth her. The woman held the child to sooth her, while the man read the note. “Dear people of Shayenne.” He began, stumbling over his words as he tried to read the scrawled handwriting of the note. “I beg of you, please look after this child. She is my daughter, and the greatest treasure I could have hoped for. I cannot give her a real life, but I hoped that this city could. Please watch over her.” he read on. Some members of the crowd sniffed back tears of sympathy for the baby girl, but there was still one question: What would she be called?
Just as they were about to add naming the child to the list of topics in the council meeting, the man noticed one last scribbled sentence. “Her name is Starling, and the bracelet you will find with her is never to be taken away. Oh, and don’t mind the wings.” The crowd gasped, as the child calmed and shifted. The scrap of fabric clothing her slipped down, and a tiny pair of starling’s wings were revealed. Several citizens immediately refused to take her in, but more were in favour of giving her a decent childhood at least. The couple that had picked her up took her into the council building, and it was decided that no one person would bare the responsibility of looking after the child. Instead, they would all make sure she had a roof over her head each night, and that she was fed. In short, every member of the city would be her parent, and she would be the daughter of the city as a whole. Starling gurgled at that, as if pleased with the arrangements herself.
During Jackdaww’s early years, he was mocked almost constantly by the other children in the palace. They picked on him because his mother had left him, because his parents weren’t married and because he was weaker than most of them, but most of all, he was mocked because of his weight. In the palace, there were hundreds of overfed children, but he was the only one who was far to thin. He was of a sturdy enough build, and looked like any other child there, but he weighed so much less that most of the children could pick him up and throw him as easily as a toy. No one knew it other than Jackdaww’s father, but he had the hollow bones of a bird, or an avian. It really got to the child, and at the age of four he had already deserted the company of the castle children in favour of the royal knights. He asked them to teach him to be a knight – to help him become stronger and eventually join the king’s guard. The knights had laughed in his face, simply because the sight of the young boy in a knight’s armour would have been ridiculous, but they decided to humour him with a trial. This was where he began to show his worth.
He was given three day’s training before the official trial before the senior guards and the king himself, and he excelled in the petty activities that they gave him. He mastered holding the wooden practise sword almost immediately, and could knock down the dolls on spears that they had se up for him as dummies in two bare strokes. On the day of the trial, he had flowed through a number of simple movements from the actual training programme, along with a complicated routine with his wooden practise sword. He even demonstrated the simple parries and thrusts with his left hand, and although for an adult it would have been appalling, for a four year old child it was enough to win him a place. “We’ll make a warrior of you yet, boy. Just you see!” the king had laughed, and the knights agreed to train him like any other new member.
Starling faced much different difficulties in Shayenne growing up. Although she was well aware that she had no actual parents, she never paid it much heed as the citizens were all so loving towards her. She felt that the city was all the family she needed, and was certainly better than a horrid one that had left her in the streets. However, her wings had proved a bit of a problem. The other children in the city pointed and laughed for some time, but starling was strong willed enough to shrug it away. She considered them to be her brothers and sisters; and they saw her in much the same way, which meant that the teasing was more bearable and less serious on both sides. They did, however, pose other problems. One was balance. She often felt herself falling over due to her wings unbalancing her, and her co ordination was appalling. She quite often knocked things over with an accidental twitch of her wings, or hurt them likewise.
However, there was one elderly man who found them fascinating. Starling called him Uncle Herbie, but his real name was Hughbert. He kept birds – dozens of them in wire cages in his house, and therefore thought he knew enough to teach her how to use her wings properly. He set up a selection of exercises to strengthen them before they tried anything big, but on her sixth birthday, she finally left the ground.
Hughbert lead her up onto the outer wall of the city, and told her to spread her wings to balance herself. She did. And found that she was actually very steady when she had enough room to fully stretch her wings. “Now, jump!” he shouted up to her after she had settled herself. She did as he instructed, and found herself floating down slowly. “Remember exercise 3, Starling! Roll your shoulders, and your wings will move. Try it!” he shouted. Starling gave her wings an experimental downward flap, and then began to roll her shoulders as Hughbert had said. To her surprise, she found herself gaining height. She flew over the first few houses, and most of Shayenne gathered to watch, before twirling downwards into the town square. She followed Uncle Herbie’s instructions, and landed nicely in the middle of the square. Her wings hurt from the strain, and she was trembling from exhaustion, but she knew that from then on, she would never be happy to stay on the ground again. It would never be enough for her, and she would have to be in the air as much as possible. It was a brilliant feeling, and she treasured the memory of that day forever.
Jackdaww was making fast progress through the ranks of the knights. By his ninth year, he could beat some of the knights in mock-combat easily, and knew his Knight’s code better than any of the adults. He no longer cared how much the other children hated him or tormented him, because the knights were so kind to him. His father supported him all the way, and always seemed thrilled whenever Jackdaww managed something new. He would be enrolled into the proper squadron when he turned fifteen, and was already well ready for it. He was flawless with his right hand, and had built up enough muscles to hold his own against those of a similar height. He wasn’t strong enough to take on the senior guards, or the strongest knights, but he was getting there. His left hand was almost equally excellent, since he had practised with both ever since he joined the training squad, and he was formidable with the double-blades. However, his favourite mock-weapon was the little wooden rapier in the armoury. That became his training weapon, and the knight’s told him that he would have a real one smelted for him when he was old enough for a blade. He was on top of the world there, and wished he could stay like that forever.
However, it wasn’t to last. True enough, Jackdaww got his blade on his twelfth birthday, and it came with a personal inscription from his father, but the man himself was nowhere to be seen. Some said that the inscription was a suicide note, but no one could ready it. The armourer had done an appalling job with the words, and they were impossible to read. Jackdaww could see the opening line: ‘To my only son…’ but nothing else. He had wept when he’d received it – wept like any other child, but he was determined to draw on this weakness to make him stronger. Having no ties would help him become a true gentleman, or at least that’s what he told himself to stop the tears.
He only got better and better in his training after the incident, but that was because, although the rest of the palace thought otherwise, Jackdaww didn’t believe his father was dead. And indeed, at that point he wasn’t, but no one in the castle would know that.
In fact, his father had run away. The inscription was designed to tell Jackdaww why he wouldn’t be there anymore, and how he could be strong, but the botched job on the inscription made the message unclear. It was too late to go back, however, as he had already gone. He was looking for Jackdaww’s mother, to patch things up with her. Ever since Jackdaww had started to grow up past the stages of needing him, he had been withdrawn, thinking about her. He had brooded over the note she had left constantly, and decided to fulfil her wishes. She had instructed that Jackdaww had to know about his sister – that charming, winged baby from his memories – and that he had to find her. The inscription was supposed to cover that, so he could chase his lost love in peace.
However, it wasn’t to be. The lord, used to the pampered lifestyle of the palace, was killed by the roadside by bandits. He couldn’t defend himself properly, and was left in the gutter to rot. Never again would he see his lover, nor either of his children.
The twins’ mother, however, had faired well. She had always been a wanderer, and set about trying to see all of DC. She flew from city to city, then through forests and deserts both. This wandering trait had been passed on to both children, although it would not become apparent until they grew up.
Jackdaww, indeed, grew up much faster than he might have liked to. He was practising behind the main castle one morning when a strange stone plummeted out of the sky. It was dark blue, and shot-through with flashes of blue-white that looked like lightning. It had fallen out of the heavens, and hit Jackdaww’s head, knocking him out cold. No one had looked for him especially that day, and he was well out of sight, so he was in very much the same place when he awoke, an hour later.
As he opened his eyes, Jackdaww saw shards of broken stone all across the ground. His head hurt like hell, but the stone was too unusual to ignore. He rubbed his head as he sat up, and looked at the shattered stone. It seemed that it had been hollow, and had broken over his head. I tiny fragment was still stuck there, but he didn’t dare remove it. He would have a healer look at it later. He gathered all of the iridescent pieces from the ground and slid them into his pockets. Then, something made him stop in his tracks. A flash of lightning, it seemed, danced behind him. He stood up, and drew his sword as he span around. He saw not a danger, but what appeared to be a friend. It was an unusual creature, with four legs, and a tiny pain of iridescent wings, shot through with pale blue. The whole creature would fit on the palm of his hand, so he sheathed his sword and picked it up. It spat at him, and wailed like a baby – which, he supposed, it was – and made an unusual crackling noise at him. The crackling was from tiny sparks of lightning dancing in its throat, as harmlessly and water on one’s skin. “Hello, little guy. What are you doing here?” Jackdaww cooed, tickling the creature with one finger mindlessly. He almost jumped out of his skin when it replied. He felt an unusual feeling as a mind brushed his, yet the words came from the creature’s tiny mouth. “Just dropping in, mind the pun.” It croaked in a gravely voice. Jackdaww’s jaw dropped as he looked at the little thing and tried to understand how it had spoken. “You’ll catch flies, biped,” It snapped, “You look like you’ve never seen a dragon before. I’m hungry, so you’d better find me something.” It demanded. Jackdaww closed him mouth, and stammered for a while.
Finally, he produced an intelligible sentence. “D-dragon? Well that makes sense. I’ve been knocked out by the egg of a mythical creature. Brilliant.” He said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. The dragon leant forward and bit his thumb – just hard enough to draw blood.
“We aren’t mythical, you dolt, just uncommon. Now, feed me.” it said, amazingly sure of itself.
“Why should I?” Jackdaww snapped back, before catching himself and lowering his voice. He was shouting at an animal, and that wasn’t what a gentleman should do. The dragon snorted, as if it was obvious.
“Well I’ve hatched for you, which means you are my human, and vice versa. That means you have to look after me. And I’m hungry.” Jackdaww swore under his breath – using words that he had only heard from the knights before, and stormed inside. The dragon curled up in his hand, and enjoyed the ride, without asking any more questions.
Jackdaww found a scrap of meat left over from dinner in the kitchen, along with some bread. Before he had even offered it properly, the dragon had snapped it from his fingers and eaten it. It purred like a contented cat, and crackled again.
“Mmm, very nice. Now I’ll need a name too, and that will do.” It said, looking up at Jackdaww expectantly. He though hard for a moment - running through names rapidly in his head. Every majestic name he could think of wouldn’t fit, so he chose one that he felt described the dragon perfectly.
“I’ll call you Measle.” He said at last, thinking that the dragon was just like the pox to himself. The dragon seemed happy with that, and settled down. Before long, he was asleep in Jackdaww’s hand, leaving him with the problem of where to keep him. He never once thought of abandoning the tiny dragon, but he really was stumped by the problem. He couldn’t present him anywhere in the palace, so he would have to be hidden.
He was hidden, after a long search, in the empty stable out in the cobbled ward. Jackdaww had no idea that it had once been the place his mother had lived, but he knew that it would do for his peculiar livestock. He then tried to go back to normal castle life, but Measle would never let that happen.
After a harmonious week, Measle started talking again. This time, he spoke straight into Jackdaww’s head, usually during training sessions. He told him how horrible the stable was; how much he hated the horses and that he had a perfect plan. Jackdaww ignored him at first, but as the days rolled on and the dragon didn’t stop, he was forced to listen.
“We could live out in the forests, and live an exciting life. There are other dragons out there, and you already know that you couldn’t bear to stay here forever.”
Jackdaww had no such thoughts, but once Measle had planted them in his mind, they grew like a fever. He began to slack in training (although his skills in the controlled environment were still astounding) and eventually gave in. He gathered up his sword belt one evening, along with a single blanket, and took some money from his father’s old room. Then, he fled outside, trying to avoid being seen, and went to the stable. Measle was waiting, as if he’d know that he would come round, and the pair crept out of the back gate. On the way out, however, Jackdaww remembered his Knighting ceremony, which was only in a few months, and decided he couldn’t leave it. He grabbed a mail shirt, printed with the King’s Knights blazon, and ran, following Measle out into the woods.
The next day, no one noticed Jackdaww’s disappearance, and once they did, there was no one left who cared enough to go and look. It was one of those things, they figured, and they all knew that hi father had left in a similar was to follow his death. And thus, Jackdaww was released into the world with no one but is dragon as a companion.
Starling wasn’t forced to take up her wandering ways as Jackdaww was, but she took them up at about the same age. She took to taking night time flights down the sheer drop to Didienne, only to return in the mornings. Gradually, she went further and further afeild, until one night she failed to get home in time. She didn’t return until late afternoon, and the whole city was abuzz with panic – looking for her. She was forced to confess that she had been going off to explore, and braced herself for a scolding. However, none came. That was met with nothing more that sighs of regret, and one of the more elderly members of the cit led her to one side.
“Starling, you’re almost all grown up now, and we think you deserve this freedom. I wish it hadn’t come so soon, but today it the day.” She said. Then, she pointed to one building, which had no glass in the windows, and a shop on the ground floor, but a hollow space upstairs. “This place is yours from this day forth. You will always have a home here, and a family, but any time you want to go, just go. The windows will always be open for you to come back inside of you arrive at night, and you should find it to be rather nicely furnished. Go on, take a look.”
Starling nodded, and sprang up to the glassless window. Inside were brightly coloured chairs, and a soft rug. There was only one room, but there were clear sections that were designed as rooms within the L-shaped space. In the far corner, a small silk curtain cut of a bathroom and bedroom, and there was a tiny kitchen near the soft lounge. And, right be the window, was a large, open space that was perfect for landing in or taking off. It made tears well in her eyes that the townsfolk knew her well enough to provide her with this, and she knew that she would always come back. She could never leave forever, and she knew that. She stepped inside, and walked around the open plan house. The ceiling was high enough for her to walk around, even with her wings spread fully, and the fact that there were no walls within the building meant that her wings would have all the space they needed. She sunk into one soft armchair, and began to make herself at home. She had a brief nap there, to catch up on her sleep from the night before, but she awoke as night time fell. A small crowd had gathered below her window when she went to it, to see what she thought. She laughed, and shouted down: “It’s perfect! I can never thank you enough!” she spluttered, choking a little on tears of happiness. The crowd cheered, and dispersed, although enough people saw her take off for the night to know she had gone out again. Now she had permission, she could see the world, and still have this safe sanctuary to come home to. Just thinking it made her well up.
And thus, both twins were released into the wide world – one touring the woods, and the other staying in every city there was, with no clue as to the other than an ill-written inscription, in either a locket of a sword. It was doubtless that they would meet one day, but for then, they were both content on their wandering ways.