The Stronghold 3: Mikachi

Shaadespeare

Screeching and flailing my arms in the enclosed space I fell backwards, blood spurting from my nose. Sam caught me as the lift doors pinged open. Nova ushered Dean out before he could hit me again and Sam half-carried me out of the lift. I slumped dramatically in his arms, acting the very part of the damsel in distress.

"Woe is me," I said mournfully, putting the back of my hand to my forehead and looking sorrowful. "My nasal passages fill with ruby-red liquid as my battle wound slowly drives me insane. I shall not live for much longer." To irritate Sam I fell to the floor, moaning. "Alack! The villain that attacked me left a poisoned wound! Ah! The light grows fainter as I leave this mortal world behind. Avenge me, oh Samuel, child of a Hunter, brother of the scoundrel! Avenge me!" I let my body go limp and rolled my eyes back in my head.

"Alright, Shakespeare, calm down," Sam said with a laugh. "If you wanted to be carried like a kitten you could just ask."

"Meow," I said and then an idea hit me. "Shaadespeare."

"Oh hell no..."

"Shakespeare? More like Shaadeespeare! I am Shaadespeare! The fabulous dramatic man with a habit of killing people off and accidentally kissing guys!" I yelled, jumping to my feet and punching the air. At Sam's look that mingled amusement and fear I calmed down a little. "However I am also a kitten. Carry me senpai." I flopped forwards but kept my ankles locked so that I was leaning at an acute angle against Sam's chest, looking up at him hopefully.

"You're mad and perfectly capable of walking," Sam said, pushing me away gently and walking around me. I glared at his back and folded my arms, refusing to move.

"Fine," I called after him. "I'll talk Shaadespearian and not move until you carry me."

"Nice try," Sam responded, walking away. The others had already vanished into their rooms. 

"Art thou any more than just a steward?" I snapped.

"I'm not a servant," Sam replied, leaning against his door with an amused smile on his face. 

"Thou is nowt but a peg-a-ramsey."

"Don't tell Dean what that means or he'll use it forever." Sam's forehead crinkled into an irritated frown as he spoke.

"Ist thou's sibling obsessed with getting thee laid?" I quipped. 

"In a way, yes. But I think he's more obsessed with hurting you right now."

"Woe! But thou shalt protect me? I am but a humble egg."

"An egg? Tell you what, I don't care," Sam added, seeing me open my mouth to talk. "You go be an egg."

"Shaadespeare the egg," I declared, "shall only let down his defences and call back the resistance when a son of a gun carries him over the threshold of the inn's room."

Sam deciphered what I'd said and rolled his eyes. "Funny pun on my surname, Mark," he said, stressing the false name. I just smirked and held my head up high haughtily.

"I'm still not carrying you," Sam said.

"But thou is as strong as a soldier!" I exclaimed. "If thou does not do his duty to the good monarch then thou must do his duty to the next best thing."

"You're not royalty," Sam stated.

"How dare ye! Back yonder in my homeworld I was paired with a prince by mine acquaintances." 

"You were shipped with a prince by your friends?"

"'Tis correct, gentle knave." 

"I've no idea how that's possible and I've no desire to know," Sam sighed. He looked at me pensively for a second and then shook his head. "You're not gonna move, are you?"