Fluffy Markiplier Oneshots

My Fair Lady (pt.3)

Hey guys! Welcome to Part Three of My Fair Lady. There's definitely going to be a Part Four to this series, and maybe a few more after that...I'm just following the Muses. Anyway, thanks so much for reading, and I hope you enjoy the next epic piece of the, uh...continuing saga...yeah, ignore me, go ahead with the story. 

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The tall, rippling grass was soft under Y/N's fingertips. Every field was flourishing; the people of Youtopia could look forward to a bountiful harvest in the autumn. The cool night air was giving way to a pleasant spring morning. The horizon was splashed with light shades of pink. However, enormous dark clouds were slowly spreading over the remaining stars, creeping closer to the distantly gleaming castle. "You live there?" Y/N asked, stunned. Mark nodded, still stonily silent. "It's beautiful," Y/N went on, wishing to fill the quiet. "And it looks much cozier than the palace." When Mark did not offer a response, Y/N also stopped talking. She held her bag close to her chest. Something was very wrong here, in spite of the prosperity that she saw around her. As they left the grass and entered the village, Y/N began to grow uncomfortable. 

Mark kept them both away from the main road that led straight to the castle's front gates. The people that passed by were a melting pot of shapes and sizes and races. Snippets of whispered conversations were spoken in languages that Y/N didn't recognize; a group of women with vibrant green hair brushed past the pair, shooting odd looks at Y/N. No one seemed particularly surprised to see Mark -- a prince, for Heaven's sake! -- sneaking around in the shadows. Y/N got the impression that this village, as brightly colored as it was, was usually a very cheerful place. But now something was missing in the expressions of everyone they passed; sort of like a light had been snuffed out behind everyone's eyes. Mark half-dragged Y/N through almost every back way, moving stealthily around packs of heavily armored guards. 

"We'll go through the kitchen," Mark said stiffly as the castle loomed above them. "As soon as I know that my brother is alright, and my father is comfortable...you can leave." 

Y/N nodded in understanding, but she still felt unnerved. "Mark...how did you know my name?"

"I told you," he grunted. "It was a lucky guess."

Y/N was prepared to argue, but as Mark opened the side door that led to the kitchens, a wave of noise cut her off. Y/N had never seen the kitchens at the palace, but she was quite certain that they were not as chaotic as this. People scurried about like ants, carrying trays and bowls and silverware. The oppressively hot air smelled of boiled potatoes and porridge with cinnamon. Mark took Y/N's hand and pulled her through the mass of people; no one gave them a second glace. 

The hall outside the kitchen was comfortably cool, and Mark led Y/N quickly past the grand tapestries and soft Persian rugs. "My brother's chambers are close to my father's," he said quietly as he pulled Y/N along, toward the worn white marble stairs. As they approached one of several dark wooden doors lining the long hall, Y/N could hear a woman's heavy sobs coming from the other side. "You stay out here, alright? I'll...I'll just be a moment." Mark slipped through the door, leaving Y/N on her own in the hall. She awkwardly shifted from foot to foot, and began to meander toward the end of the hall. Piercing wails froze Y/N in her tracks. For an instant, she feared that the banshee had followed them. Then, she heard Mark shouting something. 

The king was dead.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

It didn't take long for the news to trickle out into the village below. As the rain came in, Y/N watched the color fade away with the falling water. After a long while, Mark came to her side at the large window. He, too, looked like he'd been watered down, until he was nothing but a hazy image of the man he'd been before. 

"I know that it won't fix anything," Y/N said gently. "But I'm very sorry."

Mark nodded slowly. 

"So your brother is king now?"

"Yes. They're preparing for him to speak to the village tomorrow evening." Mark bowed his head slightly. "He will be a good king. And now, it is time for me to uphold my end of the bargain." He gestured back toward the kitchens. "I have sent word to  your father. In one week's time, he will believe you to be lost to the woods. You're free." Mark began to walk away. 

"Wait." Y/N wasn't sure why she spoke at all, but as soon as Mark stopped, she went on. "Could I, perhaps...stay in the village? For a while, until I find lodgings elsewhere?"

Mark's shoulders relaxed. "Of course you can stay, Y/N," he said. "Stay as long as you wish." Then he continued on, and vanished around the corner. Questions still surged through Y/N's mind. How did Mark know her name? Why did help her? What was causing the uneasiness around her heart? Y/N quietly slipped back out through the kitchens, noting with heavy sadness that the once bustling room was now eerily empty. 

The streets, too, were devoid of life. Stalls were boarded up, their banners replaced with black cloth. Y/N walked haphazardly; she was exhausted and hungry, her vision skewed by bouts of dizziness. Perhaps there was an inn somewhere in the village, or maybe some kind soul would allow her to sleep in a spare room in their home. The rain chilled her skin, although it had lightened into a drizzle. Even in a daze, Y/N felt that something was off about her surroundings. There were eyes on her, although she couldn't see them. 

Y/N stopped walking, and leaned against a wall. 

"Come to me, child."

The woman's voice, unfamiliar but comforting, caught Y/N attention like a cat with a bit of yarn. 

"Come, child. Come and rest." 

Y/N wasn't stupid. She knew full well that she shouldn't follow the voice. She had to turn back and get to the castle...

"You're weary, dear. Come. Come and rest your head." Now she could see the woman, robed in rich red, standing on the other side of the street. "Don't be afraid. Please, come to me." Too fatigued to voice her opposition, Y/N began to stumble away, only to be quickly snatched up from behind. "It is not wise to turn your back on an elder." The woman's voice had turned masculine. "Now...let's see if we can't make a little chess piece out of you."

With horror, Y/N realized that she couldn't fight back. Her screams were quickly silenced by the approaching darkness.

((End of Part 3))

Sorry, that was really crappy compared to the previous two parts :(