Mumma please

His mother was mad, and he really didn’t want to sit here and listen as she told him all the ways she was mad. But he knew he had no choice. This was his punishment for being caught, for being ratted out. his expression turned a little muleish at the thought, though he’d been working hard to keep his expression contrite and chastised.

Yes, yes, he’d trespassed. It had actually been rather fun. He’d re-met an old friend (did Scylla really know her brother had dobbed him in to his mother?) he winced, tuning back into his mothers lecture when her voice started to rise, and he wondered how much longer this was going to go on for. His ears pricked up the tiniest bit at the mention of war. Maybe she’d miss it. He really hoped she missed it. That sounded… interesting. Maybe not the best time to ask about war.

Yuddy yuddy yah, no more leaving the pack, doing chores… wait. Wait. No. His eyes widened like discs. She did not just say that! His mouth dropped open “Mum!” He said in dawning horror. “Mum, I'm a prince! I’m not… I’m not like Teegra! I’m not… people can’t just walk all over me and make me do what they want. I won't, I won't do it!” His chin gutted out, and he started to rise back to his height again, defiance in his eyes. “if you want to make me Songbird, you’ll have to… you’ll have to make me!” he yelled at her.


"Speech"