First off, absolutely love it. I do want to point out a couple word errors though. Progeny (offspring), not prodigy (talented person), and ruse (deception), not rouse (to wake). On a different note, I really want to read more and see what happens when King Henry finds out!

Love how you brought it back around. Very well done.

It was the tipping point of the revolution, the first battle where the people really showed they could fight against their elven overlords

"Oh please don't tell me we are doing this cliché," Doctor Defacer mumbles to himself as the combat begins. Fortunately, it has them all, even Blue Bombshell (he really needed to talk to her about that horrible name) distracted, so he can escape. Or rather, attempt to. These knot are really well-tied. He'd have to review his drone footage later to see how it was done. In the mean time, he'd just have to hop his chair toward the exit door. It opened out, so a good lean would work and his drones could get in, grab him, and maybe take out a few of his attackers. Hmmm... OK, he'd let BB go this time, since she was there to help him.

"Hey, he's getting away!" The tall thug in the gorilla mask shouted just before BB kicked him in the throat. Dang, she never skips leg day, does she?, the doctor thought. No, stop that. Don't give in to the clichés. Gonna get yourself killed.

Unfortunately, clichés or no, his kidnappers were now moving the fight his direction faster than he was hopping. Still, he could make it, he could make it, just a few more BAM

The eagle-masked attacker slammed into him, knocking over the chair. If his arms were loose, they could push the door, but then, if they were loose, he'd already be gone. And his mind quickly went elsewhere as the eagle started crushing his windpipe. Or perhaps he could kill two bird with one... bird. No, he was glad he didn't make that quip out loud. BB would have mocked him endlessly.

He gave a good jerk of his legs, popping the chair and sending the eagle flying (better, not great) through the door. One drone swooped in and was cutting the rope, but none of the rest got in.

Just he was loose, he felt weight straddle his chest. An unfortunately familiar weight, 135 lbs, slender yet muscular. So much cliché. If BB was here, she must have finished off the rest of the crowd. He had the drone tase her. Simple enough.

He shoved her now unconscious body off his, trying not to think anything about how soft her skin felt, and walked out the door, holding it so his drone could follow, then turned to the rest of them.

"Alright boys, let's head... One second."

He grabbed a pen and paper, wrote a quick note, and hurriedly stuffed it in BB's unconscious hand. Then he was ready to go.

When she came to a couple minutes later, the Blue Bombshell notice the note and read it once her vision cleared.

Your name sucks. You should be ashamed.

"I'll get you next time, Doc."

Across town, he cringed, feeling some cliché had just been met.

Well, I had to fit in something, and he was easier to slip in than Doomguy ;)

Will do

Thanks. I'll admit, I'm a sucker for changeling stories, so I really enjoyed the prompt.

Changeling.

It's an old idea, present in many cultures by many different names. A spirit or magical creature replaces a child, either themselves or with their own. Amona, grandmother, she told me often how to recognize them. Every visit. Though she gave a Basque name I can never remember. Mother and father would ask if I was watching my schoolmates for the signs, but it was always said as a joke. Most of the signs, the personality quirks, as I got older, I realized it was just symptoms of autism. But Amona said the most important sign was the eyes. And I never saw that anywhere.

Until I woke Janey this morning. The strange sheen was there. The turned iris. The darker pupil. My daughter wasn't here anymore. I debated what to do. Amona had told me what I should do. It was simple to kill a changeling if you knew what it was. Looks like anaphylaxis. But my mind immediately went to what I could do.

"Come on, Butterfly. We gotta get you to daycare. Mommy will pick you up after, ok?"

She nodded, got up silently, and went for her dresser.

"I've got breakfast ready when you come down."

Sophie, Janey's mom, my ex, had been fighting for full custody since the divorce. She didn't care as much about having Janey fulltime as she did about twisting the knife just a little more, so I'd fought back. But this wasn't Janey. After breakfast, I made a couple calls, first to work, to let them know I was taking a sick day. Then to Kyle, my lawyer, who tried to talk me out of it, advised how hard it was to get any rights back after throwing them away.

"I'm aware, and I've been thinking about this awhile. Janey isn't taking things well, I think she needs the stability more than I need to see her." It was some of the best lying of my life.

"At least take the weekend to think on it. I'll get start on the paperwork, but we won't finalize things 'til Monday."

"Sounds good. Thanks, Kyle." I hang up before he can say anything else.

I drive in silence for a bit, preparing myself for the next call. Got work up my anger. Imagine Janey upset with me.

"What, Pete?" Oh good, she's already annoyed.

"You do this?"

"Do what?"

"Do what? I thought agreed to not talk about things in front of Janey."

Silence.

"She kept calling me Pete this week."

"So?"

"Don't 'So?' me. She asked if she was staying with Mommy and Daddy this weekend. She's calling Mark 'Daddy' now?" I pull the car over. I can't drive like this.

"News to me."

"Funny, that's what you said when I accused you of cheating."

"Pete, you got a point to this? Or you just call to be a jerk?"

"My point? I'm sick of the games, Soph. I'm sick of it. I thought they'd end when we were divorced. Or when you two got married. I can got through the next decade and a half, hoping it will end when Janey's grown, worrying that it'll come up every Christmas or birthday for the rest of our lives."

"Then don't. Give me full custody." Ah, I hate this woman. Admire the focus, but that knife hurts.

"I AM! I called Kyle already. He's working on it right now. Says we can finalize things on Monday."

"Sure... I'll believe it when the ink dries. Though if you back it, I'll make sure you regret it."

I hang up. She'll try calling back, but I've set my phone to auto respond that I'm driving and can't answer. Almost true, unlike more story about Janey. She always call Mark "Mr. Cleery." And I've always been "Daddy," but I knew it needed to be a fight.

After another half hour, I'm parked at the trailhead, ready for the walk. Last weekend, I brought Janey up here. Had to carry her back, but I like her getting out in real nature. About a mile in, though, there is a mushroom circle. She found it and had wandered in. I thought nothing at the time, but something tells, if changelings are real, maybe some other stories are true.

I step in the circle, saying, "Hold on, Butterfly. Daddy's on his way." It's a small tug, like a chihuahua pulling at your ankle, but it's enough. The world is still the same, but I can tell they hear me, whoever or whatever they are.

"Good, you're listening. I just want you to know, I was warned you'd come. Warned about what you'd do. And I was told how to hunt you down. Most importantly, I want you to know this: I will find Janey. I leave it up to you what happens before that."

Ths tug releases, the world is unchanged. I guess they don't believe me. That's their second mistake.

What. Did. I. Say. What did I say! That's not a friggin question, Mark, so put you idiot hand down. And don't you dare stop me, Amy. I earned this monologue. It's the last joy I get in this life. No, we aren't going to make it through this. Friendship can't fight friggin demons. Neither can you mall katana. Nor your redneck improvised shotgun. I will slap you, Mark. I with slap you so hard if that hand goes up one more time. This is not audience participation time. If I want to sing the frigging pokerap in ancient sumerian, you will sit quietly while I work out the translation, and be ready to clap when I finish. Now, let's go back to the begin, and see if you all can sit through my recap and keep track of how many types listening to me would have prevented all this. Mark found a friggin necronomicon type book on a reject Wish clone, and I said, "Don't waste your money." There's one. But no, he had to buy it. Then it came, and I said, "Don't bother me with this crap." Okay, we'd probably still be in this mess, but I at least would have enjoyed that Saturday, so I'm still going to—

SLAP

WHAT DID I TELL YOU ABOUT THE HAND! Anyway, that's two. Then Mark couldn't read it, so I said, "Don't bother, it's just a stupid prop." So we have three. But he called Brian for help. Only Brian's car was in the shop. "That's a sign," I said for four. But then Amy volunteered to drive us to Brian's place. "Only reason for that is to enjoy watching thing on his projector." Five. No, don't you start, I said I get to monologue. Then Brian took the book and I said, "Don't encourage Mark in his idiocy." What is that, six or seven? THAT WAS TEST!

slap

Well, the door is breaking so let's speed things up. "Don't read anything that says it can summon demons." "Do hurt an innocent animal for this." "Don't set that on fire." and "Don't touch my lunch." brings us up to ten. "Don't go out there alone, Brian." That would have kept him alive to hear my rant. "Mr. Henderson has a shotgun." Might be good against demons, but now we'll never know. I'll count it as just half, but combined with, "Don't make out with her just because the world is ending." will make it an even twelve. Oh, there goes Amy's spine. Surprised she had one.

Mark, if your hand is raised, I swear.

I hear the sizzle POP of the Watch arriving as I slip the card in my pocket and turn to look at our hooded friend, only to realize he, too, is gone. And it is quickly clear I am not alone in my surprise; those more competent casters are all looking too one another for explanation and only hearing that everyone had gotten distracted simultaneously. And of course, I can see the residual illusion magic hanging heavily around the room.

There is a bit of questioning, mostly just killing time while they have a paleoptic review what had happened. Interestingly, Mr. Hood was not actually visible to them save for the window of my Bind spell. Now considered innocent, though still tagged just in case, I head home and try to forget the card for now.

If they are a criminal organization, none of us want me walking in with a tag, a scrying bubble popping up as I walk past drugs or worse. I'm not interested in a life of crime, but I'm sure the Watch and the Motes wouldn't consider it a coincidence.

And if they're on the legal side, they still had a lot of oddness in getting me the card. Indiscreet as they were, I get the feeling they'd disapprove of me taking the same approach.

So, I wait. I go to work. I go to the coffee shop a little further from my home, rather than revisit my usual place yet. I eat and sleep and live close to my normal day. For two weeks before they hit the limit and the tag fades out.

Now, finally, I am standing in front of 133a Yew Branch Blvd. I am looking at a plain white door on a plain white building, with no other door for a 133b, and no label on it. But to the left is 129, and to the right is 136. The buildings all crowd together in this part of town, and some likely share basements. Whole blocks may suffer this strange affliction as one. I wonder for a moment if there is a way into the basement here, if I should come in from below. A stray thought, odd and quickly dismissed. Only, it isn't. I still think it, so I shift my thought and start looking closer at the door. Yes, there we are, a seam at the edge of a bubble. The spell is clever and subtle, by its nature convincing you not to look to closely. It wards the door, not with locks or dangerous traps, but by simple tell people to go elsewhere, enter a different door. And it's strong enough, even though I know it is there, I struggle to get through.

Once inside, I immediately take the offered wastebin and lose my breakfast, along with absorbed arcane energy from the ward. The kobold has finished his molt and is now growing a coat of maroon fur over his body, not an illusion. I can see his nostrils hav moved up and forward as his muzzle has rounded off from the pointed reptilian form. He's still transitioning, give it another week or so. He takes the bin back from me once I finish retching, and slips it under a reception desk, before handing me a flask.

"Just water," he says.

"Good call," I mumble between drinks.

"Welcome to TDI, the Thaumaturgical Defence Initiative," the last bit being said behind his hand, now really a paw, in a mock sharing of a secret. "And thank you for waiting. We didn't mean for you to get tagged. Most folks take a bit longer to catch Warren, so it's clear who the hero is."

"Warren. So it really was some sort of test?"

"Yes, and I'd say you passed. Not just passed, I believe you set a record and have us reconsidering a few things."

"Well that's good," I replied, only now taking a look around the room. It was littered with magical gadgetry. Not decorated with it, though that may have been the intent, but not cluttered either.

"Happy to hear. Now, let's get to business. I'd like to offer you a job."

I stare at her far too intensely, trying to find the seam, the mark, the glow of a spell, any spell. Looking like that, she's probably used to the stares. Yep, a quick glance shows I'm not the only one, though I can darn well guarantee I'm the only one staring without imagining her naked. Or I was, dangit.

OK, let's make sure I'm not having an off day. The barrista... is hiding something on his left cheek. And his nose isn't that big. His name tag is also glamoured.

Let's try that hooded figure in the corner, who is definitely generating extra shadows. And has something invisibled in his hand. Wait... Oh crap!

I start my run across the room, shoving past Miss Perfect and a kobold masking his molting arm, and throw a short term Bind on our hooded friend, giving me enough time to close the distance and kick the Wand of Fireballs from his hand.

As my Bind wears off, there are several more competent casters, all trained on him. And me, as it is not yet clear what happened. It'll be a minute or so before the Watch arrives, so I go to take a seat, but the kobold is there, shaking my hand and slipping me a business card. A really heavy, really shiny business card. It looks silver plated, probably because it is plated in... some sort of metal. But it's blank. By the time I look up, he's gone, those some of his shed skin is left on the floor in front of me.

"Nicely done," is whispered in my ear. Even her voice sounds too perfect. And still no trace of magic. "I can't say I've seen anyone pass that test so quickly. Stay in touch." She taps the silvery card and it adds green text:
TDI
133a Yew Branch Blvd.
And of course, she is also gone when I look back up, though I can smell her perfume, and yes, dangit, still perfect.

I stared at my web of yarn, trying to find my mistake. My parents? The man who made gnomes for the craft fair and the grade school math teacher? Pyragon and DisTress? I had to be wrong. What were the odds I, of all people, would find the truth? Actually, looking at it, I was the only person who could have. I mean, there was the obvious "only someone living with them could match up there idiosyncrasies" bit, but more it was my abilities, his powers combined with her training had produced a very skilled individual. Not to brag, it's just fact. I thought my powers were a result of our field trip to the labs out in Tower, when I was exposed to the neutrino cloud. Now, I was realizing that "freak accident" only happened because of my powers. Ok, getting sidetracked, Ma would be upset. I accepted the facts as what they were, and got to the issue at hand: do I tell them I know? If I did, how would they respond?

Da would act happy but be concerned. He'd want to make sure I knew not to tell anyone, and that I didn't follow in Ma's footsteps. Or his.

Ma would be excited, but hide it from Da. She'd start training me more directly, though more behind his back. When he found out, there'd be a fight, then she'd accidentally trigger the mech suit she had hidden... Under his spot in the garage? Oh, that wouldn't go well when she busted his truck.

I could practically picture the fireblasts, tearing through the house, then the sky over our neighborhood, much like in their last battle.

What if I don't tell? We continue until I move out. But then, they are there with the empty nest. She'll get that itch, she'll miss the power, feel a bit bored and struggle to find a good hobby. Maybe do some consulting. Tinker on some tech. And at some point, he'll notice. And then a fight.

Those fireblasts of his come again, and again. If I just tell him, if I just tell her, always, it leads to a fight. And then I realize something I don't know. A factor that I can't pin. How did they stop fighting before? All my models, my calculations, none led a truce, an armistice, much less a marriage. I only realized they were alive because both disappeared at the same time.

I ran the footage of the fight again. The crash into the old observatory, an explosion of purple energy, then nothing. The observatory? I pull up my maps, both of the city and of Ma's secret labs. Of course!

The purple energy was a mind wipe! He didn't know! He didn't know. And she likely had improved the system. How often did she wipe his mind? I had to tell him.

As he turned, there was a brief flash of purple, and he went catatonic.

"Oh, my darling," she whispered, stroking her son's hair. "So very clever, so noble."

He continued to sit unresponding as she began taking down his notes and erasing his hard drive once again.

"You'll be a great hero some day, just like I was. But not yet, sweet."

I'm not sure what I was expecting, but it wasn't this, and that is wonderful. Such a deft hand at shifting the argument, and that ending! I want to see more of Anna's quest for a job. She's got great prospects in mad science, if she can find a job opening