(Consider this an extreme AU of medieval times.  Oh… and expect eventual slash.  And mind the extreme prejudice of the main character for the first few chapters.  He’ll grow up after a while.)

I was never intended to be a peasant brat.  My mother was a lady; high class was practically her middle name.  My father was the governor of a fairly large town.  Large enough to have more than one class, that’s for sure.

But my mother died when I was thirteen.  Compare it to having your heart ripped out.  I loved her dearly.  She was beautiful, kind, talented… my mother was a true lady.

My father was devastated.  He loved her more than life itself.  He fell apart when she got sick, and when she died- well, let’s just say he wasn’t in any shape to be governor.

So the king’s decree was that my father, who had been “a loyal and just man” to the king and all that rot, was to be mayor of a tiny backwater town that barely fit the qualifications of a town.  It was more of a village.  Or a collection of huts and other village’s idiots.

Can you tell that I’m bitter?

So at thirteen my life was destroyed.  My mother was dead, my father had been demoted and disgraced, I’d been uprooted and taken from my friends and a good two-thirds of my belongings, and I had to live in a peasant town.  Add to that the mentality of any thirteen year-old boy, and you’ll understand my pain.

And I was an outcast from the very start.  For god’s sake, I was raised to become a nobleman!  I actually took some care with my appearance (which includes bathing, another thing peasants have trouble understanding).

I am considered to be handsome.  That’s rot.  I have my mother’s features, I’m skinny, and I’m pale.  I look more like a noblewoman than a man, and I know it.  My hair is black and rather long because I wouldn’t trust that stupid barber anywhere near me with something sharp.  My eyes are green and my damned eyelashes are longer than any girl’s that I’ve ever met.  And since I was raised to wear what was in fashion at the time, my outfit wasn’t the plain brown sack that most peasants wear, so I looked like an overdressed young lady when I arrived when compared to everyone else.  I haven’t been able to stop the jeering of my peers about that no matter how many times I’ve beaten them.  And that’s literally beating, you understand.

I’m also educated.  I can read and write, do arithmetic, remember a little history, and use logic to address everyday problems.  This is not something a peasant looks highly upon.  They’re dumber than posts, so why shouldn’t everyone be?

Lastly, I’m not going to change for them.  They found that out soon enough and didn’t like it.  I am who I am, and that’s not a peasant, thank you kindly.

To make matters worse, my father has changed to suit these people.  He’s become more and more like them every day.  And he, too, expected me to do the same.  I don’t think so.

And to top it off, they all have the perfect example of who I should be: Samuel, the town’s pet.  He’s like something out of a hero story, tall, muscled, blonde haired and blue eyed… it’s enough to make you sick.

And then he has to go and be kind, gentle, and moderately intelligent.  It’s enough to make you terminally ill.

And he’s been trying to become my friend for three years.

It’s enough to make you commit suicide.

But I’d rather just get away.

I spend my days hiding in tree tops.  I grab a book, some parchment and a stick of graphite, and a bit of food.  Then I run off at dawn and hide out in the forest ‘til around noon.  I come home, do my chores, replenish my supplies, and hide again.  I’m back home at night to sleep.  This arrangement has served my father and I well for almost two years.

Today I find that accidentally grabbed a book I’ve already read- The Song of Aden.  Pure drivel.  Don’t ever waste your time on it.

So now I’m sitting up in a tree, dozing.  It’s a nice day, all sunny and warm, and of course someone has to come along and ruin it.

“Merrin!”

No matter how well I hide, Samuel can always find me.  If he weren’t such an innocent and unbelievably guileless person, I’d suspect witchcraft.  As it is, I bury my head in my arms and try to block him out.

“Merrin, I can see you!  Come down!”  Samuel is laughing, probably thinking this is a joke or something.  If only I could strange him.

“Come on!  It’s important.”  Ooh, now it’s the wheedling voice.  Like it affects me any.  Maybe if I pretend I’m dead he’ll go away.

“Fine!  But you asked for it!”

Pardon?  I raise my head just as he jumps up, climbing the tree like a squirrel.  In ten seconds he’s right in my face.  Damn him.

“What do you want?” I growl, narrowing my eyes to slits.

He simply smiles, bright and engaging.  “Your father’s making an announcement.  He asked me to find you.”

Oh, I’ve already heard about this grand day.  Samuel’s finally getting knighted and sent out in the wide, wild world.  I’ll take a miss, thanks.

“Go on ahead, and I’ll catch up,” I say, reaching for the bag I have hanging on a nearby branch.

Samuel shakes his head.  “Oh no.  Last time you said that I had to spend another two hours chasing you down.”

Like I said, he’s moderately intelligent.  If it had been anyone else I’d have gotten away with that one countless times.

“Then tell my father I’ll be there later,” I say, re-hanging the bad since my ruse didn’t work.  “Give him my regrets, or something.”

“Merrin,” Samuel says warningly, leaning closer.  “He told me to get you!  It’s important!”

I lean back as much as I can in the tree.  “It’s not important to me.”

“You’re going,” he says, grabbing my arm.  I go very still.

“Let go of me.”

“No.”

“Let go.”  My voice is colder than ice, but this isn’t impressing Samuel.  He grins.

“Make me.”

That bastard!  I try to yank my arm away, but I don’t have much leverage and he yanks back, ending up with us both tumbling out of the tree.

“Ow!”

“Goddammit!”

The only blessings being that I didn’t hit a lot of branches going down and I landed on something soft, I raise my head and realize I landed on Samuel.

“I’m sorry,” he says, blushing and looking away.

“You should be,” I reply, jumping up and looking for my bag, which is still hanging.  “Dammit!”

“I’ll get it,” Samuel offers, standing up and brushing himself off.  I ignore him and start climbing up again, pausing only to brush my hair out of my eyes.

“Are you coming back down?” he calls after me.  I don’t even answer.  If he expects that, he’s truly peasant stock.

“I’ll pull you out again, “ he threatens, looking up at me.  There are leaves in his hair.

“You wouldn’t,” I say, settling back in place.  Samuel sighs, shakes his head, and starts up the tree again.  The bastard.

“All right!  Just get down!” I yell, giving in.  I don’t need another trip to the forest floor in a second or less.

Samuel hops down, grinning triumphantly.  I hate him.

(Fun?  Yes?  No?)