Glaw

Just a Fairy Tale | Glaw & carsgovroom

Raquelle frowned deeply -- a beautiful picture of disapproval -- and she pressed her horse to gallop forward until she was riding alongside Liam. This, while riding sidesaddle, was no easy feat: she had no problem displaying her talents when it suited her. "You'll run yourself ragged, my prince," she said gently and with much concern. "Already you look pale."

Even as she rode, she pulled out a bag from the saddle and unwrapped it with delicate fingers. She pulled out a sliced watercress sandwich and held it out to him in its neat paper wrapping, one hand on the reins. "If we can't stop, then please at least eat something. You'll need your strength." She smiled at him prettily.

---

Coralie frowned. "Well I for one wouldn't feel terrible if he rotted," she declared. "If he'd 've just had the sense to die in the night, we wouldn't be having this issue."

"You don't mean that," Alphonse snapped, and he sighed. "I have some inconspicuous clothes I think might fit him. He could use some cleaning up, too, but we don't exactly have a lot of time." He glanced to Sam, removed his hat, wiped his brow on his sleeve, shifted his hat onto his head again, and sighed heavily. "All right, I'll see what I can do."

He left to search through his tent, while Coralie decided it wasn't her business and went back to wrestling with a bag that was too big for its fastenings. The Marshal was watching Sam steadily, with a mixture of interest and amusement, trying to figure out her intentions -- but after awhile he closed his eyes again, to save what strength he had left. If he would be expected even just to stand, he would need every ounce of it.

Soon enough, Alphonse returned with a bright expression, a folded armful of brown clothing clutched between his hands. "All right," he told Sam, "you'll have to help me untie him, bring him into my tent. Florian and I will clean him up and get him ready --"

The Marshal roared a protest through his gag, in a desperate attempt to communicate: "I am not an invalid!"

"All right, we'll guard you while you clean yourself up and get dressed," Alphonse sighed. "No tricks. Once you're finished we can discuss food and water."

The hate in the Marshal's eyes was pure, untainted rage. He would not take orders from a half-pint bandit. He could see the amusement in the dwarf's eyes, the pleasure Alphonse was taking in bossing around the marshal of the queen's regiment. August wanted nothing more than to twist his smarmy goatee'd head off his shoulders.

Just a Fairy Tale | Glaw & carsgovroom

Raquelle gave Liam a slack-jawed look as if the prince were completely out of his mind. "I can't ride in this!" she squeaked, holding out her dress for him to see. "And my shoes! These are certainly not riding boots. Oh, Liam!" She gave him a pretty, pleading look -- but the look he gave her was not to be wavered. Oh, what would her mother do?

Eventually she took a breath (a hard feat to accomplish, for she'd had her servants compress her ribcage into a quaint little corset) and she smiled sweetly. "All right, then. I will have my horse prepared. I won't be long!" she added playfully, smiling just for her prince, and she spun around with a flourish and trotted back into the castle.

A half-hour later she arrived again, accompanied by a side-saddled mare and three servants on their geldings. She had switched her polished shoes for riding boots, and required a stool and a strong assistant to hoist her into the saddle. She arranged her hair around her shoulders, imagining herself to appear mythical on the back of her quiet steed. Surely a little ride would be refreshing, she told herself.

Less than an hour into the journey, however, she began complaining to her servants of the insects that buzzed around her fruit-scented hair, and of the chafing of her saddle, and the unevenness of the road. "Liam!" she called out sweetly, two hours into the ride. "Why don't we stop for a picnic? I've brought watercress sandwiches!"

---

Alphonse blinked at Sam in surprise -- he hadn't expected this kind of tone from her, and he wasn't sure what to do. He shuffled his hat between his hands, and he smiled uncertainly. "Um ... good morning, Sam. Did you sleep well?"

The Marshal, still gagged, watched her with a trace of a satisfied grin.

Coralie, over by the remains of the fire, waved a spatula for attention. "You can come with us, though I don't see why, but you've made up yer mind I take it." She let out a heavy sigh, and she pointed the spatula at the Marshal. "Are you also sayin' you'll take charge of him? 'Cause I'm not carryin' him all the way to Doc Jolly's stable."

The Marshal growled audibly at this -- like hell he would allow himself to be carried.

"An' what'll it look like when we get to the castle and we've got an Eldonia guard prisoner?" Coralie went on. "They'll throw us out afore we get in!"

Just a Fairy Tale | Glaw & carsgovroom

Down the castle steps Raquelle glided like a fairy, a wide smile on her painted lips and a happy glimmer in her eye. She'd been awake since the darkest hours of the morning in preparation: her hair shimmered like the sunlight, and her long laced gloves and perfect green dress (simple by her standards, exotically expensive but appropriate for travel because there were no hoops in her skirt) had been neatly fitted by several pairs of skilled servants' hands. The emeralds in her earrings set off the brilliance of her eyes.

When she spotted the carriage she lighted the last few steps and hurried daintily to Liam's side. "Liam, I'm coming along to offer my support," she stated firmly. "It will look terribly for you if you arrive without a lady in your company. the Verinian king and queen might interpret hostility in a dozen armed men at their door. The two of us together would make a more courteous visit of it, don't you think?" She turned to Will without waiting for a reply. "Is the carriage ready?"

---

Dorothea's ear twitched, and she lazily opened one eye when Sam stirred -- but the princess, assuming that Sam only wanted the outhouse, merely repositioned herself in the pile of pillows, sighed deeply and fell back to sleep. She would take every precious moment of rest she could afford, for she couldn't be sure when she would have another chance.

Outside, the trees were gray with the first light. Florian was still snoring in his tent. Coralie was managing the food supply, packing up what they would take with them while she set eggs and hash and coffee over the fire. She chewed while she worked, tying off bags and stuffing backpacks. It wasn't a terribly long journey, but it was best to be over-prepared.

"Well, he's alive," Alphonse called from the Marshal's tree. The dwarf had found the Marshal motionless and barely breathing: he held one of August's eyes open and peered in. August, in return, glared hatefully at him and bit at the gag. He was paler than before, having spent the night fully awake -- but at the dwarf's suggestion that he was in any way weaker than before, he sat up straighter and a fiery determination came back to his eyes.

Alphonse, rightfully, took a step back. "What do we do with him?" he asked Coralie quietly.

Coralie didn't answer right away, but focused on a knot she was tying around a food sack. "We're thieves, not murderers," she said without looking up. "But we can't take him with us."

Alphonse removed his hat and scratched his fuzzy head.

Just a Fairy Tale | Glaw & carsgovroom

August continued to watch her thoughtfully, with a small curious smile, even as he accepted the gag back into his mouth. He decided he'd done all he could -- that if Sam never believed him, his own plans had not failed. He still had the queen's trust, he could still make his plans to take her down the moment she turned her back. It might mean taking the kingdoms to the brink of war, but the alternative was far more disastrous. While Sam moved away he closed his eyes, though knowing he would never sleep, and he planned for his escape.

At the news of Sam's decision against the Marshal's manipulations, Dorothea and the dwarves breathed a collective sigh of relief.

"You two can take this tent all to yourselves," Alphonse piped, hopping to his feet again, and he took off his hat while he led Sam and the princess to one of the farthest tents, laden with wind chimes and embroidered in a rainbow of threaded trees and birds. Inside was one thick straw mattress and piles of blankets and pillows in all shapes and sizes. "Coralie and I will be in the opposite, and Florian in the third. He snores like a bear in winter."

"I do not!" Florian called in protest while he jammed his nightcap on his head.

"So if he disturbs you terribly," Alphonse went on, "just march over there and give him a swift kick in the head."

"Works like a charm!" Coralie agreed, grinning. Florian frowned and rubbed his head.

Alphonse's expression turned a bit more serious. "Princess, we will retrieve you at dawn. We have a friend not far from here who I think will lend us some horses -- we'll head there first, then we'll ride to the capital."

"Thank you, Alphonse," Dorothea said with a courteous bow of her head. "We deeply appreciate everything you've done for us."

Alphonse fidgeted with his hat, smiling, and he bowed a little to Dorothea, then to Sam, before heading off to his own tent.

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He narrowed his eyes at her, considering a moment. "Now you're just fishing for compliments." He flashed a grin. "You said it yourself, I'm probably just inflating your ego to manipulate you -- so you ask me a question like that, where the only possible answer is more flattery." He leaned his head back on the tree, and he found himself thinking of the long night to come, stuck here, sick and hungry and in pain until dawn -- and he selfishly wanted her to stay here and talk to him.

"Honestly I don't know if you're brave enough," he went on, his smile fading. "But I never said anything about doing this alone. You have the princess, and the numbskull dwarves, and they'll follow you if you stand up and lead. Bravery's moving forward despite fear -- and you've got fear, so you're halfway there at least. It's easier with a sword. It looks like I won't be needing mine anytime soon."

Dorothea stood up, worried and impatient. "Sam? Come on, we should get some sleep."

Just a Fairy Tale | Glaw & carsgovroom

It was pathetic how much it meant to him to be called by his name, and not in mockery. August relaxed just a fraction; he let out a breath, and the ferocity dimmed from his eyes, though his expression remained stoic as ever.

"It's precisely because you're not from this world that everyone will listen to what you have to say. All you have to do is say it." It was his turn to look deep into her eyes, searching for that fire she'd shown him more than once since he brought her through the mirror door. "Think about it: they don't know what to expect from you." He nodded toward the uncomfortable gathering by the fire. "You dress strange, you talk strange, you have a man's name." He smirked a little. "You might as well have come from another planet. Dorothea tries to control you. The dwarves try to placate you. The queen would have you destroyed. They're all afraid. You have no ties to anyone or anything in this world: you see all this with new eyes, no prejudice, no preconceptions, and that makes you dangerous. No one could accuse you of lying or taking sides, because the only reason you would stand up and speak is if you knew in your heart that it was moral and right to do so. Your judgment means more than warring armies. You could strip them all bare with a word and show them their lies." His expression darkened again. "The only advice I would give you is to stay true to yourself, and don't listen to anyone." He smirked coolly. "Especially me."

Just a Fairy Tale | Glaw & carsgovroom

Dorothea stared after Sam in alarm, her eyes big and her ears high. She looked to the dwarves for help, but they only watched grimly, all of them fully believing that Sam was being played, that she was falling for the Marshal's terrible tricks. They didn't stop her, however -- they couldn't say a word without proving the Marshal's point, and that was the worst kind of helplessness. They were forced to let Sam make her own decision.

With the gag removed, the Marshal breathed and swallowed -- though he never let his eyes move away from hers. For a moment he was quiet, and he glared into her ferocious eyes for a few silent moments just to see if she would look away. When she didn't -- when she held his gaze just as fiercely -- he smirked just a little, satisfied that for the moment she would only judge for herself.

"My name is August Derrick," he said firmly, though quiet -- Dorothea's ears were swiveled toward them, and the princess was listening with all her feline might. There were some things he would rather not say in front of the princess. He whispered in a voice steady and determined, so only Sam would hear. "I work for the queen precisely because I want to stop her. I have done horrible things," he snarled, and his voice lowered to a hiss, "and in return she tells me her secrets, she trusts me to carry out her plans, she keeps me close. Sooner or later she'll show me her weakness. That's what I'm waiting for. The moment I know where to strike I will destroy the queen." His eyes were intense; he would die for this. His reputation, his honor, and the trust of everyone he knew had already been sacrificed. "You can't tell any of this to Dorothea. She has to keep hating me, it's vital that the queen never suspects." If Narissa even thought for a moment that Dorothea doubted the evils of the Marshal, the queen would turn her back on him, and everything he had built would have been for nothing. He set his jaw, and he gave Sam a grim smile. "But I can't stop you from telling her, can I?"

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"Don't encourage him, Sam," Dorothea, said sharply. She and the dwarves were silent on the topic of Sam's uselessness -- none of them were willing to agree with the Marshal on any point he made, yet they didn't wish to hurt Sam's feelings. Dorothea went on: "He's just trying to manipulate you."

"The princess is a child compared to you," the Marshal said, blatantly ignoring the cat. "She's not your princess, yet you let her snap at you and tell you what to do. All she's seen her entire life is the inside of a castle, a few trips to visit her perfect boyfriend in his perfect kingdom, and she thinks this gives her the right to tell her elders what to do, make them feel inferior, while she pretends to be a hero for the sake of her Prince Charming, ignorant of the country that's falling apart around her."

Alphonse jumped to his feet at that, wielding his spoon like a sword. "Stand down, you knave!" he shouted.

"Someone gag him," Dorothea hissed.

"This idiot plan is doomed to end in war," the Marshal raised his voice, and he was still talking only to Sam. "More people dead, the dwarves will be first to go -- if you sit here on your hands feeling sorry for yourself, just because the cat yells at you and the dwarves treat you like a porcelain child. There is one thing that you know well that they'll never understand: that things are never what they seem." He watched Sam intensely, and he was talking about her, and himself, and the princess and the kingdoms."Your voice is the most powerful of all of them, but you keep it locked under their condescension."

"You never answered her question, Marshal," Dorothea spoke up again, low in anger. "Why do you care?"

He replied, with a cruel smirk, "I wish you'd use my name once in awhile, Princess."

"Your name is dead to me," Dorothea snapped.

Coralie had gotten up, dusted off her hands and marched over to the bound Marshal. Once Dorothea had finished speaking, the dwarf snapped a cloth into the Marshal's mouth and tied it tight behind his head, silencing him and returning peace to their meal.

Alphonse shook off the discomfort of cold words, and he smiled. "Well, that's better," he piped. "Who'd like some more stew?"

The Marshal -- pale and haggard from blood loss and hunger, the ropes and the gag cutting into him -- nevertheless glared fiercely at Sam, daring her to stand up and think for herself.

Just a Fairy Tale | Glaw & carsgovroom

While Sam was speaking, Coralie handed her a steaming bowl of stew and a generous slice of cornbread -- the two men sat gawping at the otherworld girl, their food suspended in their hands while they tried to wrap their heads around her story. They were about to get a much bigger shock.

At Sam's prompting, Dorothea sat up primly and scanned her audience with cool yellow eyes -- and she waited until they all were looking at her before she spoke. "I am Princess Dorothea of Eldonia," she said clearly -- and the dwarves just about fell over.

"The cat can talk!" Florian blurted.

"You can't be the princess!" Coralie pointed out. "The princess is a human girl, the last time I checked!"

"Your wicked witch of the wood is my stepmother, the Queen Narissa," Dorothea went on solidly, unruffled by the shocked murmurs that went up among the dwarves. "She has dreams of power and control over the five kingdoms: her plans began with getting me out of her way. The Marshal and his men attacked my caravan, slaughtered my guards, kidnapped me, and left evidence that the culprits were soldiers of Verinia. Your kingdom has been framed for a grave crime," she added, seeing the horrified look in the dwarves' eyes. "The queen -- the witch -- turned me into this form as a mockery, but before she could cage me I escaped into Sam's world, to which the Marshal followed."

The quiet that followed was broken only by the crackle of the campfire. Eventually, Coralie gathered enough wits to lay a bowl of stew for the princess, who ate hungrily yet delicately.

Florian spoke first. "Well, that... That's really awful." None of the dwarves really knew what to say -- they were only getting over the shock that the cat was a princess, let alone that they were sharing supper with a girl from another universe.

Alphonse finally recovered enough from his embarrassment of meeting the princess like this, and he cleared his throat. "So the witch wants you locked away in hiding, to further her personal goals of power," he clarified aloud. "So I am glad she is not getting what she wants. You are free and safe here."

"The witch should be put down like a dog!" Coralie cried fiercely.

"I can't stay here," Dorothea said. "By tomorrow morning my father's men will be on their way to Verinia's castle to accuse them of my kidnapping. If Narissa has her way, there will be war. I must prevent that from happening."

"We will take you there," Alphonse offered immediately -- and the others did not object. "Sleep well here. At first light we'll ride for the capital. Your story shall be told."

"I would be honored to accept your help," Dorothea replied in a low voice. She looked up to her friend. "Sam, I hope that you might consider staying here. The queen's hollow isn't far, and someone can take you down to the mirror door once it's open again. You might be waiting a long while, but you'll be safe, and you can go home."

"You seem to be under the impression," August's voice suddenly rose up from the far side of the camp, "that a bunch of dwarves and a talking cat have the least chance of even getting a message to the king and queen, let alone would such a story be believed."

"Then we'll find Liam on the road and convince him," Dorothea spat.

"These three dwarves are the bandits that've been terrorizing the King's Road for the past three years," August pointed out -- and he was proven right when Alphonse, Florian and Coralie exchanged uncertain looks. "They'll be run through before they get close enough to shout. The girl is innocent and unknown. She's your best asset right now."

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Dorothea shifted uncertainly, her yellow eyes watching their little rescuers as they laughed and insulted one another. She couldn't imagine that they would in any way be connected with her enemies -- the princess was drawn to trust them, yet she didn't want to drag them into harm's way as she had done to Sam. Kind people had a tendency to meet tragic ends in stories like these. "Maybe over supper," she replied quietly. "I wouldn't want to surprise them terribly until we're out of danger." The Jockal was still somewhere nearby, as were the Queen's spirits that the Marshal had released from their bottle. With her cat's eyes she watched the forest shadows.

But soon they emerged into a wide grassy clearing, already warmed by a glowing campfire. The tents were built sturdy, warm and colorful, accented with childish drawings, sewn-on shells and dangling chimes, and blue embroidered leaves and animals -- the dwarves had habitually added more paint and decoration to the tents whenever they were bored, which resulted in curious and eclectic taste. There were crates and barrels stacked under awnings, makeshift shelves with all manner of cooking utensils, bags of food hanging from the branches, and dusty old rugs and well-used cushions arranged comfortably by the fire. It was a cozy and lived-in arrangement, as good as any family room with the stars for a ceiling.

Florian set to work tying up the Marshal against a tree while Coralie deftly set up pots and grills at the fire for cooking. A bag of food was taken down for the occasion, and soon enough the aroma of rabbit stew and cornbread filled the camp.

"Please, sit down sit down," Alphonse declared, puffing his chest proudly. "Tell us about yourself, Sam! And how did you come to be captured by the wicked witch of the wood?"

It occurred to Dorothea, then, that these dwarves had no idea that the wicked witch they knew so well was actually the queen of Eldonia. Dorothea jumped down from Sam's shoulder and curled up comfortably on one of the cushions. She gave Sam a confident look, and she nodded. She felt it was all right to tell the truth.