#( little jack's dead; i'm big jack horner. ); Jack Horner | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

proxylynn · 9 months

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MY WISH WAS ALWAYS YOURS (part #5)

{Content warning: Sex scene.} [This chapter took it's sweet time beating me up. But, I hope it feeds you well. While I didn't start out this story with a sex scene in mind, I'd be lying to say I haven't thought about and I pray I handled it well between these two. But with this complex relationship now built to its peak, it means there is one chapter left. The story shall culminate with it's version of the movie events. For making it this far in, I thank you and hope you've come to enjoy this story as well as the dynamic I've created between Jack and Lynsie. ^_^]

Days turned into weeks since the incident at the Horner's. And weeks become months since any news regarding the Map to the Wishing Star was heard. The passing of time was both irritatingly quick and agonizingly slow. Something that Jack loathed in the monotony of day-to-day work. Sure, it's not like he didn't get anything new for his collection. Trivial items that in the long run mean nothing in the wake of his ultimate wish. But lord help him with the waiting because his patience was thinning out and becoming bitter pessimism.

This happens all the time when some random thinks they have a lead and builds up his expectations only for nothing to happen. No word of what went down or even details to aid him with future searching like locations and if said locations could be dead ends. Just endless unknowing and bleak depression from having what little hope he's able to manifest being snuffed out. And when "Big" Jack Horner is miserable, then everyone must deal with it or suffer.

His feelings weren't isolated either. The inability to make him feel better by providing what he desires or even something of significance to match was driving Lynsie to madness. Feeling useless came with the weight of failure and such pressure made her shut down. She didn't speak unless addressed because she didn't want to make him upset, so gone were her interjections or quips. She didn't go to do a task unless told rather than doing it automatically. And she refrained from trying new things when it came to meals or treats. She was going through the motions to prevent herself from making things worse.

It wasn't working.

In fact, the irregularity in their routines and behavior only served to subtly tick him off more. He's not a fan of change once he's comfortable unless it benefits him in some way. And right now, this wasn't benefiting anyone.

Case in point...He sits at his desk, quill in hand and parchments that need his attention yet don't have it. No. The ink of his quill drying out from inactivity. His other hand's thumb at his mouth as he absentmindedly chews it. His mind is lost in thought. But his nerves are on edge, ready to blow at the drop of a hat. And Lynsie? She's silently methodically cleaning around the room. The tension emanating from Jack is so thick that she feels like a child again and is cleaning for the sake of doing something that likely wouldn't get a negative reaction. But all this does is add random sounds in a quiet room where nothing is happening. Shuffling, wiping, clinks, and clanks. It becomes too much for him.

His quill hits the desk and she nearly leaps out of her skin from the sudden loudness. His glaring gaze and bullish snorting make her freeze up like a deer that heard a twig snap. Now a smart move would probably be to remain silent. But...

“Is something the matter, Master Jack?”

Her sheepishness when he's agitated usually is something he likes. Not now. He's wound up too much. But instead of exploding...He takes a deep breath and smiles.

“Tell me something, Lynsie...Does it look like I'm in a good mood?”

His voice is calm, almost whimsically pleasant. It's rather unsettling. She shirks in on herself.

“That's right. I'm not in a good mood. And do you know why that is?”

She shakes her head.

“Oh, come now, take a guess. Go on. Guess.”

She shakes her head again so he sighs.

“I'm not in a good mood because things aren't going my way. I am nowhere closer to getting my wish than...ANY other point in my life. And that's not good. Which, as you know, when things don't go my way, I get upset. When I'm upset, I get distracted. Being distracted means I can't get any work done. And right now...”

Gone goes his smile as it's replaced with a harsh sneer and he slams his hand down on the desk with force enough to scatter his parchments.

“How am I supposed to get anything done around here when I keep getting distracted by you?!”

He's nowhere near her, yet his voice and countenance alone startle her enough to make her fall on her ass.

“M-M-M-Master Jack...”

“If it isn't one thing, it's another. And you...”

He bites his lip with a growl.

“I've tried to ignore you but I just can't.”

She picks herself up and casts her eyes to the floor in shame.

“Forgive me. I didn't mean to...”

“Go. Leave me.”

She flinches in shock.

“What?”

“I said go!”

She panics.

“Jack, please, I'm sorry. I can do better. Let me make it up to-”

“GET OUT OF MY SIGHT!!”

She winces. Somethings wrong. He's never gotten this bad before. But she knows better. He's not going to let her say anything when like this. Nothing she can do other than comply with his order. So she solemnly bows her head and does as told. Leaving him in his office alone as quietly as she can. He watches her go, yet for all his huffing and puffing, he just sits there glaring at the door she walked out of as if expecting it to open again. As if she'd come back in and try harder to apologize to him, begging for a chance to make up for annoying him. But he knows better. She won't. She doesn't disobey him. So now he is there with nobody. The room is dead silent. His ability to get any work done is still hindered by his thoughts...his thoughts on her.

He hated this. He hated this with building displeasure. There was never a point where he was this frustrated. And it wasn't even over the map! That fact alone irked him even more so. Why was she at the forefront of his thoughts lately? It was boggling him to no end. Things he didn't notice before were now inescapable to his senses. The way the wind would catch her hair to make it swirl like smoke off a candle. The soft floral scent that hung on her and was buried beneath the sweet smell of baked goods unless she was ever so close. The way the uniform fit her just right and highlighted the resilient form underneath. And the way she looked at him with those strong eyes of hers full of admiration like he could do no wrong. Curse his father for his constant pushing of a romantic relationship with her on him by dismissing him entirely. And curse her for being the reason for his building aggravation due to their companionship. These feelings were a mental nuisance that held him hostage. And he hated it.

…

Once outside, Lynsie leans on the doors. Her heart weighed heavy. Part of her wants to go back in there, to be at his side, as is her place. Yet she doesn't. In his current state, he'll just get more upset and lash out at her. She grits her teeth and walks away. Maybe she can distract herself with work.

“Miss Lynn...”

Her attention is drawn to one of the bakers working the main assembly line floor as she passes by.

“Is everything alright?”

She pauses.

“Why do you ask?”

“You looked troubled.”

She cocks her brow as if to say “Is that all?” and the baker fidgets.

“W-We also kind of heard the commotion too. Is everything okay?”

She runs her hands over her face and through her hair.

“Master Jack is under a lot of stress. I was bothering him. I deserved it.”

“Really? It's hard to imagine you did anything to warrant being screamed at.”

She's not interested in talking about this.

“Do not be concerned with such things. This isn't some schoolyard where we all gossip around and giggle like children. We're here to work. If there is something that you need to know, you will know.”

She continues on her way, expecting this to result in the workers doing just that, gossiping like they have nothing better to do than care about the lives of others for some reason. And her expectations are spot on. The whispers behind her are as predictable to her as a rooster crowing at dawn. That's because she's used to it. She's used to hearing the whispers and stares. She may stick around Jack 90% of the time, but in that 10% she hears all sorts of things.

It's not like she's a fool. Since day one, there were whispers. She doesn't blame them. The arrangement she has with Jack is suspicious to them all. Not like explaining it would make it any less scandalous sounding. They were bad enough when she was hired on, but they hit their peak once it was confirmed they were living together. There was no thought as to maybe she had nowhere to go or that as his personal guard being stationed in his residence was a strategic move. No. Their minds threw all logic and understanding out the window to think they were doing much more lewder things than simply cohabiting. Though given what happened those many nights ago their silly gossip doesn't seem so far-fetched now. Granted the candid talk would be more warranted if they did anything else past that night.

That night.

It lingers faintly in her mind now. Brief flashbacks that randomly flickered up from time to time. But with the lack of acknowledging it, it slowly started to fade. At this point, only the key part remained intact. The kiss. A really heavy intense one. She wants to blame the brandy for that. She wants the drink to be the reason she would've done something like that. But she can't do that. She knows that's not how alcohol works. It lowers inhibitions and lets you act on impulse. Impulses you already have. And that scares her. Because she didn't feel such things for Jack. At least, that's what she believed. Failing to realize she harbored something for him more than friendship only for booze to bring it out is terrifying to her. If she can't understand herself enough to know her feelings then how can she trust herself at all?

These are the thoughts that have distracted her mind. But she's not too distracted to do her duties. Making her patrol of the grounds, taking in all the activity, helping move inventory, checking for anything suspicious, and paying a visit to the stables to check on the animals both normal and magical. Granted this last bit does keep her attention for longer than intended.

“My, you're looking well today. How is my best boy doing?”

She feeds oats to a dark-colored unicorn. The rare gem among all the other unicorns in the stable, as the others have lighter and brighter coat colors. She favored this one as the others seemed to reject it. She sympathized with it. She sympathized with many of the creatures Jack collected. Not because he typically took something from them like he did with the horns of the unicorns, no. She sympathized with them because they were worthless when in the wild, only being valuable once Jack took them in. No one bats an eye when encountering things like griffins or dragons on adventures, it's frankly expected sometimes. But these animals are more than mere beasts. They are to be looked on with favor.

“You're doing what I told you, right? Don't take their crap.”

The stallion neighs with a snort.

“Good boy. Stay strong and don't let them get to you. Prove them all wrong by being better than what they think.”

She nuzzles its muzzle and gets it to whinny.

“Such a good boy.”

“Little Lynn?”

A voice draws their attention to the stable gates. A fresh young face stands nervously, a recent new addition to the guardsmen of the main gate.

“Can I help you?”

The young woman awkwardly steps a bit closer and gets startled by the snarls of a calygreyhound.

“Don't show that one fear. It makes you seem like prey and it will treat you like prey.”

A calygreyhound is one of those weird mashup animals that can vary in what part is where, it's along the same line as a jackalope or platypus in that it's not magical but rare. It has the head of a wildcat, the torso of a deer or antelope, the claws of an eagle on its forefeet, ox hooves, antlers or horns, the hind legs of a lion or ox, and its tail like a lion or poodle.

Lynsie walks up to the snarling beast and stares it down. The calygreyhound bares its teeth but slowly ceases its threatening stance, giving a small huff before prowling its way into the back of its pen.

“Whoa...So cool!”

“You can't be weak here. Otherwise, you're not going to be here very long.”

“R-Right. Sorry.”

“Now then. You came looking for me, why?”

“Oh! Yes. Um...”

She fumbles with searching herself before pulling out a few envelopes.

“A courier came by and the others told me to find you.”

Ah, the tedious task of going through the mail.

“Very well.”

Lynsie walks right past the girl much to her confusion.

“What are you just standing there for? Follow me.”

“Y-Yes, ma'am!”

Lynsie rolls her eyes and continues onward, heading back into the main building.

“Um...Ma'am?”

“What?”

“Aren't you going to take these to Mr. Horner?”

“No.”

That earns a look of puzzlement.

“No? But isn't this his...?”

“No mail is to be given to Master Jack directly without going through inspection.”

“Inspection?”

“Master Jack is a powerful man. Most would be wise not to get on his bad side. But there are those foolish enough to make attempts on him.”

“Oh. ...Wait, so these could be loaded with poison?!”

“Possibly.”

The young guard panics but they just get grabbed and dragged away into a room.

“Shut up!”

The girl flinches and Lynsie yanks the envelopes from her.

“I told you, you can't be weak here or you won't be here very long. Do you want to keep your job?”

“Y-Yes, ma'am.”

“Then zip it and learn.”

The girl is confused but nods. Lynsie goes to a table and places the envelopes in a tray. She proceeds to pull different items like a scale, candle, bottle, and small blade. The last one makes the girl nervous.

“Why are you scared? If I wanted you dead, I'd have done so already.”

That did little to make the woman less nervous as Lynsie checked the first envelope, turning it over a bit, skimming her touch around the edges, and checking for a seal before weighing it, eyeing the set weight. She takes the blade, snips a small bit off one corner, brings the bottle to the corner, and then tilts it. A fine green powder pours into the bottle. This causes the guard's eyes to widen.

“Is...Is that...?”

Lynsie swirls the bottle before sniffing it, much to the other guards' shock.

“Catnip.”

This comes as a relief as Lynsie opens the envelope...It's a letter or, more truthfully, a threat.

“What does it say?”

“That is none of your concern.”

“But...”

Lynsie hurls the bottle with a venomous snarl that nearly strikes the guard's head. This is then followed up with the guard being forced against the wall and Lynsie glaring in her face, her hands on either side of the guard's head.

“I said, it's none of your damn business!”

The woman trembles under Lynsie's sudden tone shift.

“Do you know why they had you come to me?”

The question seemed out of nowhere and she shakes her head.

“They don't think you belong here.”

“W-What?”

“Frankly, I think they're right.”

“Ma'am, I...”

Lynsie punches the wall and the guard yelps.

“When you put on that uniform, you make a promise. You promise your life to Master Jack. To do anything and everything in your power to aid him. Even if that means giving your life. And I'd have to be stupid to not see that you aren't willing to do that.”

“I am! I swear I...”

“Don't lie!”

The woman tries to sink into the wall.

“Look at you. Shaking like a leaf. How are you supposed to be a guard when you flinch at the slightest thing? How are you supposed to defend this keep if you tremble when someone raises their voice? Tell me! Have you ever spilled blood? Have you watched the life fade from someone's eyes?”

“I...I...”

“Hit me.”

“What?”

“Hit me!!”

The guards-woman lifts her hand and attempts to strike Lynsie but she hesitates. This makes Lynsie sneer and she backs off.

“Go home. You're dismissed.”

The woman is bewildered.

“W-W-What do you mean 'dismissed'?”

“You heard me. How else do you want me to say it? You're being let go. Your life's going in a different direction. Your body's part of a permanent outplacement. Take your pick.”

“I...You can't fire me!”

The icy glare Lynsie gives freezes her in place.

“I mean...I really need this job.”

“That's not my problem. My prerogative is the safety and well-being of Master Jack. And you are a detriment that I will not have become a larger threat. Now go. Leave this place.”

Lynsie turns her back on the woman and returns to the table.

“Ma'am, please. I can do better.”

Lynsie doesn't respond.

“Little Lynn...”

She clutches Lynsie's arm in desperation. A poor mistake.

It happens in a flash.

“I was trying to be nice. You should've gone when I said to.”

The guards-woman gasps for breath, clutching her neck and stumbling back. The letter opener lodged in her throat.

“Normally, I would apologize for this had you caught me on a better day. But you just had to keep pressing my buttons. Failure to follow orders. Lack of conviction. Refusal to listen. Telling a superior what they can and can't do. And most egregious of all, reckless endangerment to Master Jack. All of that makes you a liability.”

Lynsie grabs the blade's handle much to the other's horror. She attempts to flail and flee to no avail. Her feeble and rather clumsy panic seals her fate. Lynsie doesn't even have to move. All the jostling in her panic makes the blade cut more into her before she shoves herself away, allowing the wound to fully open and spew forth the torrent of crimson.

“We have no place for the meek, nor the luxury of keeping clean hands. But fear not, foolish one. You did manage to do something useful. You showed me there is a need for change and I must relieve our current instructor. They are not keeping our standards upheld. So for that, I thank you.”

She twitches and spasms for a bit before going still. Lynsie merely steps around her and opens the door.

“Requesting cleanup.”

She returns to the table to continue looking through the mail as four others come to the room.

“What happened?”

She merely glances over her shoulder.

“Don't ask questions you know the answers to.”

There's no further chatter. A mere nod of understanding and that's that. They tend to the removing of the body and she glares down at the reason for her agitation. The message that was in that first envelope.

You'll wish you never crossed me. - Kitty

Such a bold declaration. The cat seems to not deem her previous attempt as a proper payback. And the choice of words is concerning. It might be her overthinking it, but the possibility of Kitty making a play to steal the map from Jack during the retrieval must be taken as a probable high-level threat. It is for this reason that they can't afford to have liabilities. This is why they can't have weaknesses. This is why she can't allow there to be any cracks in the foundation of the guard. This is why she won't tolerate failure. She can't let him down. She refuses to. She'll end countless lives before she lets that happen.

After the others leave and she's left alone, her attention goes back to her duties. The remaining envelopes aren't of anything important. Some invoices. A few reports from scouts. Nothing major until the last one. It bears a wax seal, a crest emboldened on it. One that makes her groan in annoyance.

“God damn it...”

She gathers everything and hustles over to Jack's office.

…

It took some effort, but he was finally able to write once more, but just barely. Jack could manage a few sentences at a time before his quill would go still and he'd have to get his thoughts in order again to keep working. At this rate, he'll be here all night just to finish these scripts that would've been done by now if he wasn't so distracted. Damn these wondering thoughts. It's like an itch he couldn't scratch. This sense of powerlessness and lack of control of himself. It's maddening. An urge deep inside that was like water slowly being brought to a boil after ages of sitting over a small flame. Lord, what he wouldn't give for this to go away. To be rid of this frustration. To have it over and done with in an instant. To...! When did his hand go to his thigh? Why was he rubbing himself?!

*knock-knock*

He nearly leaps in his seat at the sudden sound. Oh goodie. More bothersome tripe.

*knock-knock*

Maybe if he keeps quiet they'll go away.

*knock-knock*

“Leave me!”

The door opens anyway.

“I said...”

“Forgive my intrusion, Master Jack.”

She comes in and shuts the door much to his chagrin.

“I will take my leave once this is over.”

She approaches his desk and he takes note of the red splatter on her uniform. It's enough to raise his brow but not his words. He knows well enough that if there's blood then she took care of a problem.

“Get on with it then.”

She nods.

“Mail came.”

She slides the basic papers his way and he eyes her.

“You're holding out on me.”

“For a reason. Now, do you want the bad news or the really bad news?”

He groans, putting his quill down, and runs his hands over his face.

“What's the really bad news?”

“One word...”

She hands him the threat letter.

“Kitty.”

He takes it and scowls.

“That mangy flea-ridden...!”

He crumbles it with seething hate.

“If she thinks she can get her claws on my map, I'll see to it her guts are used to make violin strings!”

“I'm going to begin strengthening the guards. Training has gotten lax. I won't have such sloppiness be tolerated and jeopardize your wish. I'll also be sending out more scouts. Not only to get notice of updates quicker but to dispatch this pest before the cat becomes a catastrophe.”

He sighs, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

“That's at least something.”

He looks at her.

“What's the other thing?”

This one makes her hesitate a little but she displays it, crest side up. A string of beads intertwined around a dagger.

“Ah hell. Not her. What does that witch want this time?”

With little care for the wax seal, she breaks it and pulls forth the letter within.

“To "Little" Jack Horner...”

He rumbles a deep growl. This is already off to a great start.

“The enchanting Princess Fiorimonde has taken notice of the lack of acceptance of ANY of our lady's previous invitations and wishes to, once more, request thee to come to her ladyship's court to have an audience with her excellency to discuss a potential partnership.”

“Ha! Now that's rich.”

“Thou are to arrive on the eve of the blood moon and not a moment later. Her fair ladyship is holding a grand soirée, for which in attendance will be an assortment of other fable beings. If thou does not show up, reactions shall be taken depending on the nature of thine absence.”

“Oh yeah, sure, make threats. That's definitely going to make me want to come over. Not!”

“There's more.”

She clears her throat.

“In the likelihood thou's loathsome nature still wishes to dismiss this invitation yet again, her majesty has prepared a gift that one such as thee would not dare pass up.”

“I doubt it.”

“Surely, a man so interested in prized objects of magic would not pass up this offer. Her Majesty will bequeath her prized necklace onto thee if thou accepts m'lady’s partnership. We advise thou give this proper thinking over. We trust thou will make the right choice. ...Geez, who the hell is in charge of their message department? A dude from the dark ages?”

Jack leans back in his chair.

“I don't like this. The timing is awful. ...When is the blood moon?”

Lynsie goes over to a board on the wall littered with charts and searches around.

“If I'm reading this right...Three weeks.”

He groans and rubs his face.

“You don't truly think she'll actually retaliate, do you? This is like, what, the twentieth time she's tried to lure you over? If she was capable of backing up her talk, she would've done so by now. If anything, her ploy of dangling her necklace like bait on a hook should be further proof she doesn't have the means of trying to storm our metaphorical castle. She's desperate. The real question is...Why?”

She makes a good point and he has to give it thought.

Princess Fiorimonde is from the fairy tale "The Necklace of Princess Fiorimonde". It's about how the young wicked princess, with the help of a witch, uses magic to maintain her beauty. When her father the King wishes her to marry, Fiorimonde, not wanting her suitors to discover her secret, transforms them into beautiful beads on a necklace. Her maid and a friend of one of the suitors, learned of the Princess' wickedness and plotted to free her suitors from her curse. She was only defeated when she herself was transformed into a bead on the necklace. Princess Fiorimonde became the thirteenth bead of her necklace, and when her twelve captives were set free, she was left as the only bead remaining as punishment.

Since then, however, the Witch that was teaching her sorcery cut the necklace's golden thread and freed her from her punishment. If you think her time as a bead taught her anything then you're far too optimistic. With her freedom came revenge. She used her necklace to usurp her father, taking control of the kingdom and all of its assets. The Witch remains on as a disconnected retainer, maintaining Fiorimonde's beauty and advising her in serious matters. But Fiorimonde is mostly on her own to reign. This has resulted in, what one would expect, mixed results in her rule. Most of the time, her people hate her and fear her for learning black magic. Yet at the same time, the magic that keeps her beautiful also makes it so any man who looks at her will almost certainly fall in love with her. This bewitchment tends to keep her people in line. It also lures weaker fools that don't know her story in and they fall for her trap, giving her everything thinking they'll have her heart only to end up as a bead on her necklace.

Now over the last few years, Fiorimonde has tried to lure in certain people. People of power. People of influence. People of wealth. It didn't take a genius to figure out why. And to her credit, her tactic does work on some. Jack has been sent invitations before and never responded. Yet with this one, the timing of this summons on top of everything else that's going on struck a paranoid cord in him. Why? Why now of all times is she trying to coax him over? When his stress was at an all-time high and his mind was having it's most challenging time to focus.

“Master Jack...”

Lynsie's voice snaps him out of his thoughts.

“How shall we proceed?”

For a brief moment, he isn't sure how to answer that. His thoughts getting all jumbled up from pressure.

“What can we get done before the blood moon?”

She rubs the back of her head.

“Hmmm...I should have everything I mentioned before taken care of by then. The only thing I think will take time is finding someone new to take on as a training instructor for the guards. I might even have some time left over to create a new field training exercise to keep them in shape.”

“Good. ...Good.”

She looks at him with concern. Seeing him like this was pain-inducing.

“I understand your reservations, Master Jack. If you're feeling unsure, then maybe it's best to approach this situation with caution. Perhaps, scout out her castle to see what's up? Or...”

She comes up to his desk once more and crosses her arms, her gaze steady.

“I can make this problem go away. Permanently.”

Jack taps his fingers rhythmically on the desk, lost in thought. He's always been cautious, calculating each move he makes, but the circumstances are pressing. The weight of the decision rests heavily on his shoulders. He's aware of the potential danger Fiorimonde poses and the consequences of ignoring or underestimating her. After what feels like an eternity of silence, he finally lifts his gaze to meet hers.

“Scouting her castle will give us some insight into her intentions, as this is so obviously a trap. And if we decide to confront her directly, there's no guarantee it won't escalate into something more annoying.”

He leans back in his chair, rubbing his temples as he tries to ease the tension in his mind, his other hand's fingers still tapping.

“The blood moon adds an element of uncertainty to the situation. Lunar eclipses are said to be a time of heightened magical energy, and if she's still dabbling in dark magic, who knows what bothersome tricks she'll pull.”

“Perhaps there's another option? One that might be high risk yet high reward.”

His gaze sharpens as he looks at her, intrigued by her suggestion.

“Go on.”

A devious smirk plays on her lips.

“Master Jack, have you heard of the Trojan Horse strategy?”

[Three weeks of planning and one tedious boat trip later]

Horns trumpet the arrival of guests to the castle of Princess Fiorimonde on the eve of the blood moon. Carriages line up and deposit their riders. Many are known. Others obscure. But most seem to blend in rather well with the rich accommodations...Except for one. One massive individual that sticks out like a wolf among sheep. "Big" Jack Horner himself. Clad in a suit characterized by sophisticated elegance and style, attention to detail, impeccable tailoring, and a refined silhouette that exudes charm and confidence. Elegant embroidery of silver plums and golden pies highlights an array of multi-colored pale pastel purple tones. The jacket features a well-defined waist and shoulders, providing a masculine and polished look. The trousers are slim-fitting and tailored to flatter the legs without being overly slim. The jacket is single-breasted with four buttons. It is designed to create a V-shaped silhouette, enhancing the shoulders and chest while gently tapering down toward the waist. The lapels are notched, adding a touch of elegance. The overall length of the jacket is moderate, falling just below the hip. The shirt worn is a crisp white dress shirt, emphasizing simplicity and sophistication. A silk cravat complements the overall look. The trousers have a flat front and a tapered leg. Designed to sit at the natural waist, providing a clean and polished appearance. A pair of well-polished leather shoes complete the look of the overall elegance of the outfit.

Accompanying him, Lynsie, in matching countenance. A close-bodied blood-red gown with coquettish and imposing air to it. The bodice of the gown is fitted and features a stomacher, a fitted back, and a decorative panel that covers the center front of the bodice. This stomacher is elaborately adorned with lace and black embroidery designs that make the outlines of boots out of hearts with the laces made into bows. The bodice's square neckline adds a touch of elegance and femininity. One of the defining features of the robe are pleats on the back of the gown. These pleats start from the upper back and fall in graceful folds to the hem of the gown. This draping effect creates a sense of movement and fluidity in the dress. Sleeves are elbow-length and adorned with lace cuffs, adding a touch of sophistication to the gown. The wide skirts, open at the front to expose a highly decorated underskirt supported by panniers created from padding and hoops of baleen. An inevitable consequence of this redefinition of the torso is an emphasis on the hip and bustline, veiled by lace above the top line of the bodice.

They immediately draw attention for two reasons, the first being Jack actually taking part in a social gathering, and the second being the bombshell arm candy at his side. Seriously, the jaw-dropping stares are enough to make jokes of.

“This is funny.”

“Oh?”

“Mother would be in awe if she saw you like this.”

“Heh. At least I can make one mother proud.”

“Don't be like that.”

“No, I meant it as a good thing. I mean, look at me. I've got on makeup and am utterly slaying in this dress. Your mom would be going nuts!”

“True.”

“...Please don't tell her about this.”

“Oh, I'm so going to tell her about this.”

The castle's grand courtyard is adorned with decorations for the event. Dim torchlight casts ominous shadows across the cobblestones as guests mingle and exchange polite pleasantries. They scan the surroundings with keen eyes, taking note of the architecture and the presence of quite a few notable faces that have attended. As they move deeper into the courtyard and towards the castle gates, a guard stops them.

“Name?”

“Jack Horner.”

The guard looks at a list.

“Ah, there you are. "Little" Jack Horner.”

The red of Jack's face is only matched by how much his right eye twitches.

“That's "Big" Jack Horner. Got that? I am "BIG" Jack Horner! Update your damn records.”

Her gentle hand skims his arm and he pulls his seething back some. The guard takes note.

“And you, miss, are?”

“She's with me.”

The guard eyes them both, skeptical of the sight of a fair beauty on the arm of someone like Jack, but still...the guard opens the gate.

“Her majesty awaits in the main hall.”

A small huff leaves Jack as he saunters inside with Lynsie strolling along beside him. Stepping into the opulent castle, the interior is lavishly adorned with exquisite tapestries, shimmering chandeliers, and ornate furniture. Guests mill about, engaging in hushed conversations, their curious glances drawn to the pair's presence.

“Surly we can't be that odd to see, can we?”

“They're probably thinking I paid you to be with me.”

“If they do, they're damn fools. If anything, I'd be paying you to be with me.”

“Ha! You couldn't afford me if your life depended on it.”

Their ability to joke with each other was a good sign. The preparation leading to this event was needed ordeal to focus their minds on. It got them back into a state of normalcy. Something they needed if they were to get through this without arousing any suspicion. Stepping through the towering double doors, they're immediately enveloped in an aura of timeless luxury and regal splendor. The main hall is a symphony of architectural brilliance, boasting soaring ceilings adorned with intricate frescoes that depict scenes from the kingdom's rich history. The walls are draped in sumptuous velvets of deep royal blue and gold, cascading down from ornate cornices and framing colossal mirrors that reflect the grandeur of the space. Crystal chandeliers, each with thousands of shimmering crystals, hang in suspended splendor, casting a warm, ethereal glow across the hall. A marble floor, meticulously polished to a mirror-like sheen, bearing delicate patterns that weave together symbols. As you move across the expanse, your footsteps resonate softly, harmonizing with the distant strains of a string quartet that graces a raised dais at one end of the hall.

The centerpiece of the hall is an immense banquet table, resplendent with a cascading array of delicacies. Silver platters adorned with intricate filigree hold exotic fruits, decadent pastries, and gourmet dishes that delight both the palate and the eye. Towering candelabras crowned with flickering candles punctuate the table, casting dancing shadows that contribute to the hall's enchanting ambiance. Surrounding the table are gilded chairs upholstered in plush velvet, each meticulously positioned to accommodate the esteemed guests who have gathered for the royal gala. The guests, draped in their finest attire, converse in hushed tones, their laughter and murmurs creating an elegant symphony that resonates throughout the hall. Adorning the walls are enormous tapestries, their rich colors and intricate detailing adding to the hall's aura of grandiosity. In alcoves along the periphery, carefully curated artworks and artifacts from across the realm are displayed, inviting guests to appreciate the cultural wealth of the kingdom. At the heart of the hall, a raised dais serves as a stage for performances and speeches. Velvet-draped steps lead up to an ornately carved throne, where the Princess sits, radiating an air of regal authority and an aura of ravishing allure.

She a delicate figure draped in exquisite finery, a beauty enhanced by enchantments, her eyes as captivating as stars. Her face was calm and sweet as a baby's; her golden hair fell in ruddy waves; her rosy lips smiled, little dimples showed in her cheeks; her skin as soft as the clouds themselves. It's no wonder she is said to be “so beautiful that there was no one like her in the world” and can sway even the coldest of hearts to warm up to her. But more importantly, around her neck is a long gold thread as solid as chains, however much it would be pulled it will not break. And on this thread are numerous beads. Each bright and beautiful...yet each a poor soul transformed. Likely her father and his loyal men.

All it took was just one look. One glance around at all this flashy splendor to understand why she wanted so many here and to make partnership deals. The answer leaves their mouths at the same time.

“She's broke.”

As the two of them take in more of the opulent surroundings, the realization hits even harder. The extravagant displays of wealth, the lavish decorations, and the grandeur of the event are all indicators of Fiorimonde's desperation. She's putting on this elaborate façade to mask her dire financial state. It's a last-ditch effort to secure partnerships, alliances, or any form of monetary assistance that might prop up her failing reign. This puts a whole new spin on the situation, and their options become clearer.

“Can you smell that, Master Jack?”

“Hm?”

“The smell of irony. How a Fairy Tale is seeking the aid of Nursery Rhymes. It's almost intoxicating.”

With a subtle chuckle from him, they proceed further into the grand hall, taking in the sights and sounds. They play their parts as expected, mingling with other guests, engaging in polite conversations, and observing the proceedings with keen interest. They mingle with the crowd, playing their roles as guests while keeping a watchful eye on the events unfolding around them.

“So...Shall we schmooze?”

“Might as well. We're going to be here a while. ...Unless someone pisses me off. Then we're going home.”

She nods.

“I'll see what I can scrounge up. You enjoy yourself.”

Her smile makes him roll his eyes as she wanders into the crowd. A sigh of relief leaves him and he hits the banquet table, getting himself a tall glass of champagne. It's a party after all. Might as well indulge while he can. The spread is nice. And the drink isn't half-bad. Though giving a glance around the room, the guest list seems to be a hit or miss of randoms. Sure, there are what appear to be some nobles. Some he even recognizes due to how outlandishly gaudy they dress up to make themselves feel superior. Such people make him sick. They're the kind that looked down on him when he was younger and in need. Before he became BIG. He loathed those people. If anything, it's the others in the room that he felt relaxed about even if they were on just as many wanted posters as him. Just to name a few...

Little Bo-Peep and her partner Baa Baa Black Sheep, a rag-tag team of black market dealers. They mostly sell items made from the wool of her sheep and likely have better luck if Bo could not lose her flock.

Jack and Jill, a married outlaw couple united in a life of crime. They mostly operate as hired goons who will do whatever is needed to secure their prize and use boars in their operations.

Little Miss Muffet, a “legitimate” food critic and con artist. She is rather good at her job but can ruin most business with the help of her spider cohort, forcing them to cater to her demands for good ratings.

The Crooked Man, a ruthless and twisted lord who built himself up from having nothing more than crooked sixpence to his name. He has a nasty means of finding amusement, lending out money to those he knows can't pay back and then forcing them into servitude.

The Princess really must be in deep if she begged someone like that here.

“Hey hey, look who showed his face...”

A cocky man with way too much swagger approaches the table.

“Looks like I lost a bet. Never thought you'd show your face at a shindig like this.”

Jack shakes his head.

“Georgie Porgie. Why am I not surprised?”

“Heh. It's a party. Why wouldn't I be here? I mean, have you seen this spread?!”

Where one would think he means the bounty on the table, you'd be mistaken. No. Georgie extends his hand to gesture toward the guests. The women guests to be specific. Jack can't help but roll his eyes. Georgie is a notorious womanizer and gambler. He's also known for his knack for getting into trouble and then charming his way out of it. The man's reputation precedes him, and it's a wonder he hasn't been caught or locked up yet. Though he might be a sleazy character, he's resourceful and able to get things done, no matter how unscrupulous the means. So it's no surprise he's eyeing the female guests with his trademark lecherous grin. Jack takes a sip of his champagne, his patience for such things waning, yet he decides to entertain Georgie for a moment.

“Chasing skirts wherever you go. You're so one note it's laughable.”

Georgie shrugs, not the least bit bothered.

“Hey, a man's got needs, you know? And the ladies seem to enjoy my company as much as I enjoy theirs.”

“Oh, I'm sure they do. That's why they cry when with you. It's a wonder anyone tolerates you.”

Georgie laughs, brushing off the comment with a careless wave of his hand.

“Ah, come on, don't be a sourpuss. It's all in good fun. Besides, you of all people should know how to enjoy the finer things in life.”

Jack's expression remains unchanged and his skepticism is evident.

“I enjoy the things that matter. This?”

Jack gestures around the opulent hall.

“This is just a façade.”

Georgie smirks, leaning in closer with a sly grin.

“True, true. But you've got to admit, it's a damn good façade. It has to be, otherwise, you would've never set foot in a place like this, much less have a beauty like that on his arm.”

Jack rolls his eyes, downing the rest of his champagne.

“And there it is. The real motive for talking with me.”

“Can you blame me? You've brought quite the catch here. She's stunning. What's her name?”

“You wouldn't know her even if I told you.”

“Ah, come on.”

“If you want to know so damn much, then be a man and ask her yourself. I'd love to see that.”

“Quite the hostility. And over something as small as asking about your date's name? Must be quite the lady if you're this protective over her.”

“Don't be stupid. The nature of our relationship is nothing more than associative.”

“Associates, huh? Business or pleasure?”

Jack glares, leaning in a little closer.

“You're a sad little man, you know that?”

“I'm not hearing you deny it~. Seriously, Horner, you've got to tell me how you managed to snag a bird like her.”

“Georgie, if you ever want to scar another woman with your asinine flirtations again, I'd advise you to shut your trap before I shut it for you.”

Georgie laughs, raising his hands in mock surrender.

“Alright, alright. I won't pry. Consider these lips sealed. But...No, never mind.”

Jack's eyes narrow slightly before he lets out a sigh.

“What?”

Georgie smirks and motions his head for Jack to follow his stare. Doing so Jack's gaze moves over the crowd to spot the visage of Lynsie off in the back, almost tucked away for privacy, and with someone.

“Is that...?”

“You know what they say. Women dig musicians. I really should learn to play an instrument. Like a lute! Ladies love lutes.”

Jack's expression grows more serious and Georgie grins, his eyes glinting with mischief.

“Don't worry, Jack. I'm sure it's nothing. Enjoy the party, buddy. Now if you'll excuse me, I see a pretty bird that could use some proper company.”

With a slap on Jack's back, Georgie struts off to continue his pursuit of fair damsels. Jack watches him go, shaking his head once more before his expression grows a tad serious looking back out at where Lynsie is. Georgie is a fool. A simple man who follows simple pleasures and understands them most simply. He and Simple Simon would get along great if Simon wasn't, you know, dead. Still, he did manage to plant an annoying thought in his head. What was she doing with the Pied Piper?

…

The party around her is a mix of genuine revelry and calculated networking. It's a world she's never fully embraced, but one she was trained to maneuver and adapt to such social events. Her no-nonsense professionalism drops. Her demeanor becomes more engaging, charming, and charismatic, with an air of sophistication that would make others think she comes from some blue-blood lineage. She moves through the crowd with a grace that catches the attention of many, striking up conversations, making connections with the various attendees, and gathering information without drawing undue attention. She is a master at reading people and adapting her behavior to match their personalities and interests. It's almost as if she becomes a different person, fully immersed in the role she's playing. Her ability to blend in and extract useful details from seemingly casual exchanges is a testament to her skill and experience.

Though amidst all the fun, she can't help but feel a mixture of amusement and annoyance as some individuals gawk at her or whisper among themselves about Jack, likely gossiping about his unexpected appearance. Such distasteful words mar Jack and sting her ears, making her blood begin to boil. Oh, if given the chance, she'd cut out such scandalous tongues. Yet she must keep herself in check. Now isn't the time nor place for such action. She has a job to do. Assessing the room for potential, be it threatening or not. Then, as if a blade were to cleave her mind, a sound most familiar reaches through her defenses. One she hadn't heard in quite some time. She follows it, finding the source seemingly listless as he keeps away from the others, almost like he's hiding while blowing into his flute. Seeing him makes her smirk as she comes to stand near him. He pays her no mind, at most, casting a weary glance before shutting his eyes while playing his flute.

“Please your honours, said he, I'm able, By means of a secret charm, to draw All creatures living beneath the sun, That creep, or swim, or fly, or run, After me so as you never saw! And I chiefly use my charm On creatures that do people harm, The mole, and toad, and newt, and viper; And people call me the Pied Piper.”

That makes him pause his playing and his eye open once more, looking at her grinning face in puzzlement.

“It's been a while, hasn't it, Piper? When last I saw you, you were hiding in the woods after fleeing racketeering charges. Making the creatures of the forest guard the campsite. It was a nice night indeed.”

His eyes widen and he plays a few notes on his beloved pipe, his flute being his primary way of communicating, as he is unable to or chooses not to speak.

“Ah, you do remember me. Glad I left a kind impression on you.”

He flute-speaks quizzically.

“Oh, the getup? Part of the job. Not bad, right? Not a fan of the subtle shoe detail, but it's a tolerable part of showing my heritage if others ask.”

He nods before playing a few notes.

“No. My mercenary days are behind me. I am legitimately employed now. Have a place to call home and everything. It's...It's rather comforting.”

He plays a few soft notes.

“How about you? How have you been fairing since then? I hope the years have been kind.”

He pauses for thought before flute-speaking for quite a bit, his flute and body moving as he explains.

“Really? Well, I suppose from one angle the Rat King has a right to hold a grudge against you. But I'm glad you were able to get your flute back. The Piper without his trusty pipe is just wrong by all right.”

He plays some more.

“Bounty Hunter? Very respectable occupation. Though I take it you are off the clock while here, yes?”

He toots in confirmation and she sighs.

“Ah, good. It would be kind of a buzz kill if a massive fight broke out. Granted, it would be thrilling.”

They share a chuckle.

“Still it must be kind of tempting on your end. So many wanted bounties in one place. It would be a terrible shame if the music were to hit a hard ending so abruptly. Music that cuts short is always so disappointing. Wouldn't you agree?”

Her sudden dip into an ominous tone and hard glare makes him flinch. With a small audible gulp, he nods, and just like that her softer disposition returns.

“Great! Glad we're on the same page. Oh! While I have your attention, and do forgive me if this is prying too much...But may I ask what enticed you to this evening? You don't seem to like someone the princess would be trying to exploit.”

He flute-speaks for a bit and her good mood goes sour.

“My friend, please...Tell me I heard that wrong.”

He shakes his head, she gets closer as he plays a few sorrowful notes. The tone is apparent...blackmail.

“What does she have on you?”

He continues playing his flute, his melancholic tune faintly like a whisper as he communicates his story to her. She listens intently, her expression shifting from curiosity to understanding, and finally to empathy. The story he tells is one of desperation, of being cornered into a situation he can't easily escape from. She can't help but feel a mixture of sympathy and frustration on his behalf.

As he plays, she glances around the room, her eyes falling on Jack, who seems to be engaged in a somewhat tense conversation with Georgie Porgie. She watches their interaction for a moment, a subtle frown forming on her lips. Then her attention returns to the Piper.

“I see. Most troublesome indeed.”

She ponders in deep though.

“Okay. Here's the deal. I'm going to help you.”

He seems surprised.

“Don't be so shocked. Helping you helps me. I don't want some piss-poor princess to go on a power trip. I'd be a dreadfully awful bodyguard if I sat back and let this go down without a counterstrike.”

The Piper plays a few grateful notes in thanks, his expression softening with relief. She smiles, patting his arm reassuringly.

“It's fine. No thanks are needed. Consider this a friendly favor free of charge. Besides, it's not often I get a chance to mess with the upper echelons of the fairy tale hierarchy.”

He covers his mouth as he snickers. She puts her arm around his shoulders and smirks with ill delight.

“Now then, tell me everything so we can rock this party right.”

…

As the evening unfolds, the hall becomes a canvas for entertainment, with music, dancing, and enchanting performances capturing the attention of all in attendance. Lynsie stealthily makes her way back to Jack's side, the suddenness of her emergence makes him jump.

“Whoa! Don't sneak up on me like that. You're worse than a damn cat.”

She pouts.

“My apologies, Master Jack.”

He straightens himself.

“So...How has the party been treating you?”

“I have learned things. Things that I can't say out in the open. But trust me. It's all under control.”

This gets his attention. Just then Princess Fiorimonde rises from her throne and approaches the center of the dais, preparing to address her guests. The room hushes in anticipation, and all eyes are on her.

“Ladies and gentlemen...”

Her voice rings out, melodic and enchanting.

“I welcome you to this grand soirée, a gathering of esteemed guests from near and far. It warms my heart to see such illustrious company gracing my halls. Tonight, we celebrate not only our shared prosperity but also the bonds of partnership and camaraderie that unite us.”

Her speech is a carefully crafted blend of charisma, flattery, and veiled desperation. She speaks of the potential benefits of aligning with her kingdom, emphasizing the richness of the resources she can offer. But amidst the flowery words, there's an undercurrent of urgency that isn't lost on Jack and Lynsie.

“Tonight, I implore you all to consider the opportunities that lie within our kingdom's borders. Let us forge alliances that benefit us all, strengthening the ties that have bound our stories together through the ages.”

Jack leans down slightly to whisper, his voice just above a murmur.

“She's practically begging for help. Pathetic.”

Lynsie nods in agreement, her gaze never leaving the princess. Fiorimonde's speech comes to an end, and the room erupts in polite applause. The orchestra resumes its melodious tunes, and the guests mingle again. Fiorimonde comes down from the dais to mingle with the guests, engaging in more personal conversations.

“Looks like the real business is starting.”

“So it appears.”

It takes a bit, enough time for Lynsie to get more champagne for Jack, before the royal heads their way. With an air of grace, Princess Fiorimonde glides toward them, her eyes gleaming with a mysterious spark. She addresses Jack with a honeyed voice, her words laced with subtle mesmerism.

“Ah, Jack Horner."

She purrs, extending a gloved hand.

“It's an honor to finally have you grace my humble abode.”

Jack maintains a calm demeanor, his willpower shielding him from the enchanting effects of her presence. Jack merely bows slightly, forsaking her hand much to her dismay.

“I don't do touch.”

“It's true. He's not accepting of physical contact.”

The princess's smile remains, though there's a subtle tension in her expression. She's accustomed to using her allure to sway men's hearts, but Jack's apparent immunity is unsettling. Fiorimonde's gaze flickers to Lynsie.

"And who might this be?"

Lynsie's lips curve into a forced polite smile and she does a weak curtsy, showing the bare minimum of courtesy.

“You may call me Lynn. I am Master Jack's assistant.”

The princess's smile tightens just a fraction, her eyes narrowing ever so slightly yet there's a spark in them.

“And such a well-mannered one at that. I bet you feel very proud to be working for such a great man.”

Lynsie remains unmoved as Fiorimonde playfully pats her cheek in a demeaning way. Jack puts a hand on Lynsie's shoulder, knowing it'll keep her held back as the princess continues.

“So, Mr. Horner, might I wonder what changed your mind? You've ignored my inventions so much I've become accustomed to it.”

Jack sips his drink dismissively, he's cutting to the chase and not being polite to someone who disrespects his aid.

“If you must know, I came just to get this over with so you'll leave me alone.”

Fiorimonde's smile falters slightly, her enchanting façade momentarily cracking. Jack's straightforward demeanor and unwillingness to play into her charms are catching her off guard. She quickly regains her composure, her smile returning, albeit with a touch of frustration hidden beneath the surface.

“Ah, a man of business, I see. Well, I'm delighted that you've graced us with your presence nonetheless. I believe there are matters we could discuss that would be mutually beneficial. Shall we retire to a quieter corner to converse?”

Jack raises an eyebrow, scrutinizing her for a moment.

“Do I look like I was born yesterday? Just make your pitch now so I can catch the last boat out of this hellhole.”

Fiorimonde leans in closer, her voice lowering as she speaks.

“I understand that you may have reservations, Mr. Horner. But I assure you, what I propose could be immensely beneficial for both of us. I've heard tales of your ingenuity and resourcefulness, and I believe that our collaboration could lead to great prosperity.”

He rolls his eyes.

“Ugh. I hate all the suck-up talk. What's your proposition?”

The princess's gaze doesn't waver, her eyes locking onto his.

“My proposition, Mr. Horner, is this. Let us unite ourselves in marriage and I will make you king”

The bluntness of those words is like a punch to the gut. The shock is so strong it knocks the wind out of Lynsie, the gasp causing her to momentarily choke. Jack is stunned for a short time before he starts chuckling.

“Are you serious? Oh, this is rich. I didn't know a princess could also be a royal fool. Quick! Tell me another joke.”

Fiorimonde's expression shifts, her smile flattening as Jack's laughter rings in her ears. She quickly regains her composure, her gaze hardening.

“That was no joke, Mr. Horner. Think of the benefits. By joining our houses, we would become a power couple, a force to be reckoned with. Your business empire and my kingdom's resources could lead to unrivaled prosperity.”

“What resources? If you had anything, you wouldn't be in this situation.”

His voice is raised so others hear this stupidity, even his body language is a bit exaggerated to gain attention.

“Do you truly think I'd agree to that? To be tied down to a deadweight who has less common sense than a dairy cow? You are pathetic. Did you seriously believe I'd agree to marry you just to bail you out?!”

He scoffs and makes Fiorimonde's composure further crumble, her enchanting façade falling apart as frustration and anger begin to seep through. Her eyes narrow, her tone growing colder.

“I see that you're more stubborn than I anticipated. But let me remind you that I am not one to be underestimated. You are a mere man. A lowly nursery rhyme at that. While I'm a fairy tale princess. And I possess power beyond your feeble comprehension.”

Jack's expression remains unyielding, his eyes locked onto hers without flinching.

“Save your poor excuse for threats for someone else. If you had that much power, you wouldn't be here begging for handouts.”

The tension in the air is palpable as the two stare each other down. The princess's allure is completely lost on Jack, leaving her at a disadvantage.

“Heh. I see why you're doing so lousy. You don't even know who you're dealing with and just rely on your magic-made makeover. Well, news flash! A pretty face can't get you everything. I poured my blood and sweat into my company. Been busting my butt off since I was a child to get where I am now. But, oh, please, let me just give you everything because you flutter your eyelashes and pout? Bah! Give me one good reason I'd do a damn thing for you? What's in it for me? What's so enticing about partnering with a kingdom that's on the brink of collapse?”

The princess's gaze narrows, her voice carrying a note of exasperation.

“You underestimate the potential of what I offer, Mr. Horner. This is not just about me. It's about the future of our lands, about securing our legacies and ensuring control for generations to come.”

“Yeah. That's the thing you don't seem to understand. I don't care!”

Jack's response lands like a cold hard truth, causing a visible ripple of frustration across the princess's features. She's used to being the one in control, the one who can bend situations to her will through her charm and manipulation. Jack's impenetrable will deals massive blows to her ego.

“I don't care what happens to you. Your people. Your land. Or whatever nonsense you want to throw at me thinking I have an ounce of sympathy. There is nothing you can do or say that would ever make me do what you want, princess.”

He seethes her title like he's spitting on it. It's enough to have Fiorimonde shaking with building rage.

“Very well. If you won't listen to reason, then perhaps you'll understand the consequences of crossing me.”

She hisses, her eyes darkening with intensity. Jack doesn't waver, his gaze strong and without mercy.

“You can try to intimidate all you want, but I'm not scared of a tiny dog yapping at me.”

Fiorimonde takes a step back, on the verge of losing her royal poise.

“If you choose to reject my offer, then you'll find that making me your enemy is a life-altering mistake. I have means at my disposal that you couldn't possibly imagine.”

Lynsie watches the interaction with a mixture of intrigue and bubbling agitation. Jack smirks, unfazed.

“So do I. And if you mean your cheap 'dark magic', sorry, but I've dealt with worse than that.”

The princess's eyes narrow to slits, her temper flaring.

“You have no idea who you are up against!”

Jack's expression doesn't change, his defiance unwavering.

“Let me make this as clear for you as possible in a way that your tiny dumb brain will understand.”

With that, Jack turns away from the princess, clearly dismissing her. She stands there, seething with anger for utterly being humiliated and essentially ruining her shot with the others who undoubtedly heard the commotion. Regaining her composure, she walks away in a huff with as much dignity as she can muster. This will not go unresolved. Not by a long shot. Lynsie can't help but smirk as she follows Jack. Even without him knowing it, he's helping the underline plan she's cooked up with the Pied Piper.

“That was quite the confrontation. As always, it's a delight to watch you cut someone down from their self-imposed pedestal.”

Jack groans and rubs his forehead.

“She's a brat. So used to having her way that being told 'no' doesn't register. It's exhausting dealing with idiots like that.”

She puts a hand on his back in support.

“I'm sorry this is such a drain on you.”

He sighs.

“Don't. This was necessary.”

She motions him to lean down and when he does she whispers in his ear, filling him in on the goings-on as the blood moon rises to cast an eerie glow over the kingdom. The tinted light seeps into the room, the symbols engraved on the floor absorbing it, storing it, and sending it toward the dais. To the throne. This isn't something that goes unnoticed. Especially when the throne's intricate carvings start making the wood light up like it's on fire. Some, taking this as the warning it is, smartly head for the doors to make a quick escape. Unfortunately, they do this too late.

“They won't budge.”

“We're locked in!”

This makes the band cease playing their music and Fiorimonde smirk.

“Shame. I was hoping to drag this out a bit further but it seems we're hitting the main event sooner than expected.”

The sudden turn of events catches everyone's attention as the guests realize they're trapped. The princess's smirk only fuels their growing panic. Jack and Lynsie exchange a glance, their eyes reflecting a look of indifference to the happenings unfolding around them. Unlike them, other guests aren't too pleased by this. The rhymes take to trying to break the doors down while the nobles try to talk to Fiorimonde into explaining what's going on and to let them go. But, of course, she ignores them as she ascends back up the dais.

“Tell me...What does it feel like to be so gullible?”

She mocks with each step she takes.

“I had a feeling some, if not most of you, wouldn't be persuaded to so generously lend me some monetary aid. How cruel of you.”

“Says the spoiled brat that can't hold onto a shilling to save her life.”

The Crooked Man comments and makes her stagger.

“This little shindig might fool these fancy folk, but not us.”

“You can polish a turd till it shines, but it's still a turd.”

Jack and Jill take their chance to jab. Fiorimonde, who could scarcely contain her anger, managed to force a wicked grin.

“A turd? That's rich. But that's not the riches I'm after.”

She sits on the throne and the energy flows into her, her eyes glowing.

“Now then, I suppose I can drop the nice act and get to the point. You pathetic peons are going to sign over all your assets to me or suffer.”

“Suffer what?”

Ba Ba Black Sheep bleats.

“Your only power is that necklace. And no-baa-dy is going to go near th-!”

There's a sudden sound, like glass splintering, and where the sheep once stood there is now no one, much to Bo-Peep's dismay.

“Ba Ba? Ba Ba? Where did you go?”

“You really must work on keeping track of your sheep...”

Fiorimonde snidely chirps.

“You might lose them forever if you are not careful.”

“What did you do with Ba Ba?!”

“The same thing I'll do to the rest of you if you step out of line. See...I learned this neat little trick. Harnessing the energy of the blood moon, I can increase the power of my necklace, no longer limiting it to be touched. Now I can simply point and poof! You will become another glorious bead to adorn my neck.”

The room's atmosphere becomes tense as Fiorimonde's true intentions are revealed. Panic spreads among the guests as they realize the dire situation they're in.

“Now...Are we going to cooperate or shall I add another bead to my collection?”

Fiorimonde's power is palpable, her control over the room absolute, her magical aura growing stronger. The guests, once in awe of her lavish display, are now faced with a situation far more dire than they could have anticipated. Amidst the turmoil, Jack and Lynsie remain calm, their expressions the same as they observe the unfolding drama.

“Well, this party is pretty basic. But at least the entertainment is something.”

“Interesting, yes. But predictable.”

Lynsie's comment is laced with a hint of mischief, her eyes glinting with anticipation. Jack chuckles softly, his gaze still fixed on the unfolding spectacle before them.

“Shall I?”

“Please do. I can't stand her voice anymore. It's like a rake dragging on brickwork.”

Lynsie subtly steps away from Jack and gracefully moves through the crowd, heading openly towards the dais. Fiorimonde smirks.

“And what have we here? Wait, don't tell me. You're offering yourself up in hopes I'll spare your master, right?”

Lynsie scoffs.

“Please. I know that isn't an option. My life has no value, so why would you bother humoring such a thing? Likely to get a kick out of it, sure, but you can't gloat to a bead now can you.”

This makes Fiorimonde's brow raise in puzzlement.

“Then, why are you...?”

“Oh, you want to know?”

Lynsie grins.

“I want a front-row spot to watch you fall.”

This insult causes the face of the princess to turn as red as the moon currently was, positively fuming with rage.

“You insolent swine!”

Fiorimonde points at Lynsie and that splintering sound rings out before it pops. Unlike what became of the sheep, Lynsie still stands at the base of the dais much to the confusion of those around her. This confusion only grows as Fiorimonde can feel the energy leaving her, her eyes no longer glowing.

“What...Why aren't you...What did you do?!”

Lynsie folds her arms behind her head nonchalantly.

“I could tell you. But leaving you to stew in ignorance is much more fun.”

Fiorimonde flinches.

“You wretch! Do you think I do not have a backup? Piper!”

The Pied Piper doesn't move too much from his spot but just enough to get noticed by the others since he's gone unseen till now. Fiorimonde watches as this reveal fills most with dread. Locked in a room, there's no means of escaping the hypnotic melodies of the Piper. Her sick amusement rises as the Piper licks his lips and begins to play. Soon she will have command over all in the room and take all they have for her own. Yet...That's not what happens.

None of the guests are under Piper's influence much to her confusion and that of the guests.

“Wait. Why aren't you dancing?”

She turns to Piper and he's still playing his flute.

“Fun fact...”

Lynsie quips.

“Did you know that an adult rat can squeeze through an opening only 1/2 inch in diameter? Most homes have multiple gaps and crevices of this size around the ground floor and roofline. Castles especially are prone to having multiple spaces and very easily climbable surfaces for rats to exploit.”

Fiorimonde's eyes widen at the ruthless smile on Lynsie's lips. A slue of vindictive words that were going to leave the princess's mouth is made mute before the air leaves her lungs. A sharp chorus tune from Piper's flute rings out with a strong call. Suddenly, the silence of the room is filled with encroaching scratches of tiny claws. Before anyone can realize it, swarms of rats come flooding in from various corners and under the doors. They surge toward Fiorimonde, surrounding her in a writhing mass. She shrieks in terror, stumbling back as the rats close in, a stark contrast to her previous display of power.

Lynsie watches with a satisfied grin, her amusement clear as she sees the once-confident princess reduced to a state of panic. The rats continue to advance, and Fiorimonde tries to repel them with her magic, but her control is feeble and desperate. The rats swarm over her, their numbers overwhelming even as some turn to beads when they grab at her necklace. Fiorimonde's cries are drowned out by the chaotic cacophony of the rats as they envelop her. She's left flailing and helpless, her elegance and charm shattered by the onslaught of rodents clawing all over her. Her aura fades, her power wanes, and her authority crumbles before the eyes of the guests.

“All warfare is based on deception...”

Lynsie turns away from the dais and heads for the banquet table.

“Hence when able to attack, one must seem unable. When using your forces, one must seem inactive. When you are near, make the enemy believe you are far away. When far away, one must make the enemy believe you are near.”

She skims over the silverware with a keen eye.

“Such is a lesson taught to me by my mentor, The Master Thief. You may have heard of their fairy tale. Or not. It matters not. A brilliant soul they are. Another lesson they taught me...According to favorable circumstances, one should modify one's plans. You can be sure of succeeding in your attacks if you only attack undefended places. Let your plans be dark and impenetrable as night, and when you move, fall like a thunderbolt!”

Her fingers grip a knife and she spins with great speed as the blade is flung with precision. At the same time, the Piper stops playing and the rats leave Fiorimonde. The knife passing her makes her flinch. For a moment, she expects herself to be slain, cut down by some common trollop. Yet, she isn't dead. Sure, she feels some warmth trickle down her neck but her life remains.

“Ha! You missed!”

“You were not my target.”

It takes her a moment to put two and two together. The reason she feels blood on her neck. She feels around her neck and finds it bare. Panic sinks in. She turns around just in time to see the golden cord pinned to her throne, the sting severed, its disconnection making a mighty noise like a clap of thunder, and beads slipping off.

“No!”

She moves to try to stop the beads from leaving the magic string but the instant the first bead parts from it, her father materializes atop the throne much to her horror.

“F-Father?!”

To the shock of all, the King is quick to reprimand his daughter with a hard slap across her lovely face. The sound echoed in the large room. As she tumbles down the dais, the other beads fall and return to those who were missing from the kingdom. Knights. Handmaids. Councilmen. Princes. Ba Ba the black sheep. A few dozen rats. And random others who have fallen for her “partnership” tricks before. The princess, now reduced to a pitiable figure, her earlier threats and displays of authority completely dismantled as she lies battered on the marble floor. Her pretty face isn't looking so pretty anymore.

Jack watched the entire scene unfold with much interest, his initial surprise giving way to a hint of grudging respect. Lynsie's audacious move caught him off guard as it wasn't the plan they had before, but it was clear she had the situation under control. The Pied Piper's involvement was an unexpected treat. Whatever it was they had agreed to earlier had turned the tide decidedly in their favor. Well played.

“Ba Ba!”

Bo-Peep cries as the sheep rushes to her, a cute moment after a rather tense evening. The King looks down at his fallen daughter with mournful disdain.

“Such vile treachery. It pains me to believe you are not only my daughter, but my sole child. You bring shame to your mother!”

With a mere tilt of his head, his knights move and collect the princess from the floor, restraining her in their hold and gagging her mouth lest she place a curse on any. The King bows his head in shame.

“Guests of my home, I am deeply sorry for the trouble my daughter has caused. I can not compensate for that which she has stolen and lost. If I can do anything, I can assure you this...I will see to it she shan't bother anyone ever again.”

One of the knights removes his sword from his hilt, gearing up to publicly end the threat once and for all.

“Hang on!”

Shockingly Jack speaks up. And for a faint moment, Fiorimonde feels hopeful. Yeah, she's not very bright.

“Killing her would be too kind. Now if you want to punish her. I have something very fitting in mind.”

“What punishment do you wish me to prepare for my most guilty daughter?”

“My good man, have you ever heard of the fate of Countess Elizabeth Báthory de Ecsed?”

The King gives a nod and Jack smirks with menacing delight.

“From this day forth, I denounce Fiorimonde of my name. She holds status no longer. And for her transgressions against the crown and its kingdom...She shall be sealed away.”

Fiorimonde's eyes widen.

“She shall not know the warmth or light of the sun. She shall not know of the scent or cool kiss of the wind. She will not be able to converge with her tutor of the dark arts and her beauty shall fade away. She will wither till she becomes as hideous on the outside as she is on the inside.”

Fiorimonde struggles to break free of the knights holding her, her chest heaving with heavy screams that are muffled by her gag.

“Men...Remove her from my sight.”

So they do. They drag the former royal away kicking and yelling as best they can. As they pass by, Lynsie can't help but smirk.

“Some fates are worse than death.”

With a final contemptuous glance, Lynsie turns away from the defeated princess and walks back toward Jack. The guests are still reeling from the unexpected turn of events, the room filled with a mix of shock and relief. Jack raises an eyebrow as Lynsie approaches, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Well, that was quite the show.”

Lynsie smirks back, her satisfaction evident.

“I do enjoy putting on a good performance for you.”

“Shame. We had that secret weapon all ready to go and everything.”

“True. It wasn't easy to bake four and twenty blackbirds into a pie. Would've been one hell of a distraction. Oh well. Now it can be a random surprise for some poor unfortunate soul.”

As they exchange words, the Pied Piper approaches them. He toots a few notes, a sense of gratitude in his expression as he looks at Lynsie and she just waves him off with a smile.

“My guy, like I said, no thanks are needed. Hell, it's not like she thought this through. This was doomed from the start. I mean, had you did play with the setting for people, she'd just get wrapped up in the enchantment too.”

He toots a short bit and she tilts her head.

“Really? I didn't think she'd fall under the 'witch' setting what with her being human. I suppose being the pupil of a witch and the boost from the energy channeling theoretically could've granted her something...eh...Nah. That's too dumb.”

He shrugs, either way, he was planning on betraying Fiorimonde anyway. This just made things easier.

“At least now you can get back what is yours. Better yet, pick her room clean. Heh. It's not like she's going to be needing any goodies where she's going. But, you know, if you find something interesting that you don't want, maybe send it my way?”

The Piper plays a few more notes, a hint of a smile on his lips. Jack watches the exchange with curiosity, his skepticism present due to not understanding a note of Piper's flute speak but also tinged with something else. Something is annoying about how the two of them got along so well. But he couldn't quite put his finger on what and why.

As the commotion settles down and the room regains a semblance of order, some of the guests begin to disperse, some leaving in a hurry while others linger to exchange conversations or to continue to enjoy the party. The King does his best to regain some favor with the understanding guests, offering bits of the room's flare as an apology.

“Should we follow suit and depart, Master Jack?”

“Might as well. We did what we set out to do. She won't be bothering me again.”

“Young lord and lady...”

The King draws near.

“Please, do not part yet. I must give my thanks.”

He bows to the pair.

“We know you are the one that broke the cord. Me and my kingdom, and the kingdoms of those freed, are forever in your debt. If there is anything...”

“The necklace.”

Jack speaks up.

“I beg your pardon?”

“We'll take the necklace and call it even.”

The King is rightly confused.

“You...You would want such a cursed object?”

“Master Jack is a collector of such interesting curios. Surely this won't be an issue. After all, you'll be ridding your land of that which has troubled you for so long. It seems like a logical win-win.”

The King contemplates Jack's proposal for a moment, his expression torn between the desire to be rid of the necklace and the concern of passing on such a cursed item. After a pause, he nods in agreement.

“You have a point. That necklace has brought nothing but trouble to my kingdom. If you wish to take it, then so be it. I'll gladly part with it in exchange for what you have done here tonight.”

With a satisfied smile, Jack gestures toward Lynsie, indicating that she should retrieve the necklace. Grabbing a nearby napkin, Lynsie approaches the throne where the necklace lies. As she removes the knife and picks the string up in the napkin, there's a sense of weight to it, a lingering aura of dark magic that she can almost feel seeping out of it. She wraps the necklace carefully in the napkin's cloth, tying it for good measure, and returns to Jack's side. Jack's lips curl into a smirk and he tucks the necklace safely into his coat.

“Pleasure doing business with you.”

The King's gaze shifts to Lynsie, and he offers a sincere smile.

“Young lady...You are no ordinary woman, are you?”

Lynsie returns the smile with a nod.

“You humble me, your Highness. But alas, I am just a simple assistant who is very good at her job.”

The King gives a genuine smile, something that hadn't been seen much during the chaotic evening.

“Regardless, it has been an unexpected honor to have you here, despite the circumstances. If you ever find yourself in need of assistance, do not hesitate to call upon us.”

“Master Jack does not ask for help.”

“Indeed. But maybe we can work out something else.”

Jack seems to have formed his own impromptu plan and starts to chat the King up, likely seeing something he can exploit and ready to take every scrap he can get out of this situation. Lynsie smiles and lets him work his charm on the newly rescued royal, almost feeling sorry for the King as he hasn't a clue of Jack's talent for business acumen. She takes this moment to relax. The greatest threats having been dealt with, so...she hits the banquet table. Indulging in the finer things yet not feeling any finer.

“Hello there, pretty bird~.”

A confident Georgie Porgie slides his way up to her.

“How lucky am I that you haven't flown away? Be a real shame to have missed out on getting to meet you.”

The confusion that comes to her is as thick as his cologne. Her lack of response makes him smile awkwardly and he clears his throat.

“So...What's your name, pretty bird?”

“Why is it you wish to know?”

“Is it a crime to learn a lovely lady's name?”

“Do you not have pudding and pie to tend to, or do you wish to make me cry?”

His debonair demeanor cracks and he chuckles, giving his hair a little fluff.

“I see. Did Jack tell you about me?

“No, Mr. Porgie. I simply know better. No one is as brazen as you.”

He feigns being hit.

“Ouch. You wound me, pretty bird.”

“Apologies. I meant it more in a positive light. Perhaps I should've said the word bold instead.”

“R-Really?”

She grabs a glass of apple cider.

“If you can believe it, most find me rather...intimidating.”

“No.”

He jests as she takes a sip and swirls her glass.

“Yes. It's refreshing when someone has a spine and engages without walking on eggshells around me.”

“Perhaps they're just too nervous to be around someone so captivating.”

Her face shows little amusement at this.

“Let me save you some time here, Mr. Porgie.”

“Please. Call me Georgie.”

“Mr. Porgie.”

“Or not.”

“Again, let me save you some time. If all you're going to do is call me pretty then kindly leave me be. What others think of me is meaningless. So if that's all you're seeking, then take your game elsewhere.”

She sips her glass and he chuckles.

“Now this is refreshing...”

His persistence doesn't seem to waver despite her straightforward response, seemingly entertained by her blunt attitude. He leans in a bit closer, his smile still charming but with a touch more intrigue now and a playful glint in his eyes.

“It's been quite some time since I've enjoyed the thrill of the chase. I'm intrigued to discover the layers underneath that cool exterior of yours.”

She studies him for a moment as if sizing him up before deciding how to respond.

“You're not going to give up, are you?”

“Not a chance. I've been chasing after what's interesting all my life. And right now, that happens to be you.”

She sets her glass down and leans in slightly, her tone softening.

“Then let this be a word of caution. Strike the wrong cord and I will not hesitate to grind you beneath my heel.”

“Is that a promise~?”

She draws back a bit as he grins.

“You are one strange little man.”

“What? Not used to a man being interested in you before?”

“No, you're not the first fool to hit on me. I'm just not used to a man taking a threat as a come-on.”

“Sounds like you're not used to real men.”

“Nope. This conversation is so done.”

“Ah, don't be that way.”

She turns to leave and he grabs her arm. Poor move. Her reflexes have her yanking him forward as she gets behind him and she moves fast. The next thing he knows is her right arm encircles his neck, with his trachea at the crook of the elbow. Her right hand then grasps her upper left arm as her left hand grips behind his head, locking him in place as she squeezes to cut off blood flow to his brain.

“Don't resist. In ten seconds you'll pass out. Just let it happen.”

“Making new friends I see.”

Jack eventually wrapped up his negotiations with the King, securing a few more concessions than expected, rejoining Lynsie and Georgie with a knowing smile on his face as he observes the interaction between them.

“Let him go.”

Begrudgingly she does as told, Georgie rubbing his sore throat and coughing a bit as he regains his composure.

“She's a feisty one, isn't she?”

Jack chuckles in response, his eyes glinting with amusement.

“When it's called for. But believe me, a choke-hold is the tamest thing she could've done to you. You shouldn't press your luck.”

Georgie grins confidently.

“Can't blame a man for trying, can you? Both beauty and spirit are in one fun package. Might as well try. After all, isn't life about seizing every opportunity?”

Lynsie rolls her eyes, her patience wearing thin.

“Life is about more than just opportunities. It's also about knowing when to gracefully bow out.”

Her words make Jack laugh and Georgie raises an eyebrow at this.

“Wait. Wait! Do you mean he actually tried to hit on you? You? Ha! Man, how desperate can a guy get?”

Lynsie gives him a pointed look.

“And what's that supposed to mean?”

“I mean, anyone with less than half a brain wouldn't bother with you.”

Now this was one of those moments where it was different for each person. For Jack, his point was quite clear as no one would be so stupid as to make a move on someone who was with him. For Lynsie, she took this as Jack cutting her down as he tends to do and insinuating that none would bother with her unless they had nothing else as a choice. And for Georgie, he thinks he's witnessing a lover's quarrel in the making.

As the tension simmers between Jack and Lynsie, Georgie watches with a mix of curiosity and amusement, clearly enjoying the unexpected dynamics between the two. He decides to interject with a playful comment to see how things go.

“Well, well, well, it seems like I've stumbled upon quite the interesting pair here. It's not every day you see a couple with such...chemistry.”

Georgie grins mischievously, fully aware that he's poking the proverbial hornet's nest. Lynsie and Jack both shoot Georgie a withering look, their irritation evident. Jack quickly regains his composure and speaks up.

“I told you before, it's not like that. Ugh. It's like I'm in the room with my father.”

This gets Lynsie's attention. She remembered seeing them talk earlier but she would've never thought that she'd come up in conversation. It piques her curiosity just a bit to what else could've been said.

“Oh, well, if that's the case...”

Georgie starts to say with a smirk.

“Then it's perfectly fine if I ask the fair lady to share a dance with me.”

Lynsie glances at Georgie and her brow cocks in puzzlement. She's not exactly thrilled by the prospect of dancing with him after their earlier interaction. Jack seems to be watching the situation with a mixture of amusement and mild irritation.

“You have some nerve.”

“What's wrong, Jack? There's nothing wrong with asking for a dance from an eligible lady. Unless, of course, there's something more to this dynamic of yours than the two of you being just...associates~.”

The suggestive tease in Georgie's voice only irks Jack, his right eye faintly beginning to twitch as his cheeks dust lightly in an irritable blush. Lynsie absorbs this interaction with interest. Something is very strange here. Jack's reactions to the insinuations are defensive looking in her eyes, which is very odd. He's usually one to dismiss such things with ease and no emotion. So this was quite the sight for her. But she isn't going to let Georgie play his game and get under Jack's skin. Not on her watch. So with some effort and swallowing her pride, she puts out her hand to Georgie much to both men's surprise.

“I'll indulge you this once. If only to make you stop.”

Georgie's surprise quickly morphs into an eager grin.

“Hot damn!”

He takes Lynsie's hand, his earlier teasing forgotten as he leads her toward the open area where others are dancing. Jack watches them go with a mix of curiosity and annoyance, his earlier irritation now replaced with one of a different kind. He can't quite put his finger on it, but something about the way Georgie is interacting with her rubs him the wrong way. He can't help but wonder about her sudden agreement, to willingly go along with this ridiculous request of Georgie's. He knows her well enough to realize that there's more to this than meets the eye. His curiosity has been tempted.

As they reach the dance floor, Georgie doesn't waste any time showing off his dancing skills. He leads her in a lively dance, twirling her around with a flourish and moving with a grace that he's amazed she's able to follow right off the bat. Between his smooth moves and her graceful steps, they begin to catch the attention of the remaining guests. It becomes a captivating spectacle, the music that fills the room slowly building to match their level. Yet despite the show of a pair that's sharing a moment, upon closer look, it's clear only one is having a good time. Georgie maintains a confident demeanor, clearly enjoying himself, while Lynsie's expression remains stoic. Her sharp eyes observe his every move, and she moves with precision and elegance, matching his steps effortlessly. This only seems to get him to resume his playful banter in a way to get more out of her while he has the chance.

“You know, you're quite the enigma. Beautiful, mysterious, and a fiery spirit. A combination that's hard to resist.”

Lynsie says nothing, her gaze fixed on the dance but her attention clearly on Georgie's words.

“Awww. What's the matter? Have I done something to steal that pretty voice of yours?”

She maintains a polite and composed demeanor as she dances with him, but her mind is far from the dance floor. She can't help but wonder what game he's playing and why he's so insistent on getting close to her. Sure, he's a womanizer. But his motive can't just be so obvious that it's about lust. It can't be. She decides to probe him for information while they dance and with a sudden shift, she takes the lead, much to his shock especially when she gets close.

“What is it you want?”

Georgie chuckles, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

“Ah, my dear, can't a man be captivated by a woman without ulterior motives?”

“No...”

Her tone is as blunt as a hammer.

“That's not how this world works. Everyone wants something and they do things for what they want. Do not insult me further by playing this bon vivant air and c'est la vie attitude. So drop the act and come clean.”

“I could ask the same of you, pretty bird.”

He retakes the lead.

“You're more than what you seem. I can see why Jack keeps you around.”

Her eyes narrow.

“I know not what you mean.”

“Come on, dear. I'd have to be blind to not notice how you're more than just some accessory for him to parade around. You knew Fiorimonde's throne would break. You obviously schemed with the Pied Piper. Admitting to being trained by The Master Thief. And you have a very interesting thing going on with your boss.”

“I haven't the foggiest clue what you're rambling about. I am but a humble aid.”

“Eh, eh, eh. No lying, pretty bird. I deal with all manner of people and, one could say, I've become the master at reading into them. And both of you are most definitely hiding something. You more so than him, but for different reasons.”

He spins her into a dip and she looks at him funny.

“Who are you?”

“You first.”

He pulls her back up and they continue. She rumbles with a low growl. Her mouth opens but he cuts her off quickly.

“No nicknames, dear.”

She huffs through her nose.

“Lynsie.”

Georgie's grin widens, and he leans in slightly, his voice low and conspiratorial.

“It's a pleasure to meet you, Lynsie. I must say, the rumors ring true of your talents. Shame they fail to mention how cute you are.”

Her composure resolves now that she registers what he's getting at.

“I didn't take you for one that speaks with rouges. What cutthroat let my name slide?”

“Oh, no one really. I learned of you on my own. You could say I'm a bit of a fan. It's not every day one can hold a legend in their hands and not end up dead.”

“I'm no legend.”

“Oh, but you are. There aren't many women that take up the life of being a sellsword. And even fewer with such a high level of overall success. By the way, I must thank you. You saved me the trouble of dealing with Fiorimonde myself.”

She retakes the lead.

“Be you assassin, bounty hunter, or mercenary?”

“Very astute of you. I'm whichever you wish to call me. I am paid to deal with the problems of others. Seems the princess rubbed a few the wrong way and they sought some tit-for-tat action. Turns out most people don't take to losing loved ones and being robbed by a self-obsessed royal very well. That and the whole using 'black magic' is still a frowned upon thing by most old bloods, if you know what I mean.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Granted, I'm surprised you didn't kill her.”

“It would be sloppy to kill in a room full of people when there are other options to take. Even if there's a large threat that needs tending to, one must always think of the bigger picture and plan accordingly.”

“Speaking of which, do tell me how you managed to pull it off?”

…

Back on the sidelines, Jack observes the dance, a growing sense of unease settling in the pit of his stomach. There's something off about this. He knows she's a capable and experienced individual, but her sudden agreement to entertain this waste of a man is quite unusual, especially considering she keeps others at arm's length. He's always trusted her judgment and instincts, but something just feels wrong.

He watches them like a hawk, trying to read their expressions as they move around and converse. But as he watches them things seem to only get odder. The dancing pair every once in a while moving to be rather close to one another. Jack's brow furrows further and his arms cross, fingers strumming along his bicep. He mutters under his breath to himself, mostly unheard amidst the music and chatter of the remaining guests.

“What's he playing at? This isn't like her at all...”

“Seems like someone has something heavy on their mind.”

Jack startles slightly at the unexpected voice but quickly regains his composure. He looks down at Miss Muffet, who is sipping some tea. His expression remains contemplative and voids to neutral as he ignores her.

“Seems like the gentleman is stewing in some turmoil of the mind.”

The Spider dangles above her and chimes in with its own input. This has Jack mentally kicking himself for allowing his distress to be so visible. Still, as long as he keeps his attention on what counts, it won't matter what they gossip about.

“Do you suppose the green-eyed monster has taken hold?”

“Oh, no doubt.”

Jack clenches his jaw. Are they assuming he, of all people, is jealous? Jealous?! The idea was absurd. What stupidity. There's nothing about this that even hints at such a foolish notion. No. He doesn't care about her. She's just a useful tool to use like anyone else. So what if she was with the most well-known debauchee? So what if his grubby scummy hands were holding her? So what if he was so close to her that they were almost pressed together? So what if...! Ah...Shit. The realization hit. His face paling.

“Oh, look. Seems something's dawned on him.”

“Good show, old boy. It's good to embrace your feel-!!”

The Spider is abruptly swatted hard with the back of Jack's hand and hits a wall, Miss Muffet gasping in fright as she quickly sprints off to check if her friend is okay. It is but that's no concern of Jack. Not when this sudden awareness has him shaken. Because if he is feeling this one particular way, then all the other weird stuff he's been feeling and experiencing only makes things worse. It all comes hitting him like a boot to the head.

All the emotions he's been suppressing, all the things he's been ignoring, they all rush to the surface with a vengeance. It's not jealousy; it's something much more complicated and much less welcomed. It's the realization that he cares, and not just in a casual or professional sense. It's the recognition that she has gotten under his skin, and he's not entirely sure when or how it happened. Complex emotions he'd been suppressing, denying, and avoiding are suddenly surging to the forefront. He watches them with a mixture of frustration, anxiety, and something he doesn't want to admit is a growing sense of possessiveness. He hates this feeling. It's unfamiliar and unsettling. He's always prided himself on being cold, calculating, and detached. Never allowing emotions to cloud his judgment or his actions. But now, seeing her with someone else, he can't help but feel a pang of...something.

“Are you letting your woman cavort with that trash? Disgraceful.”

He could hear his father's voice mocking him in his head.

“You're better than that. You're better period. You're a Horner. We take what we want and let nobody take what's ours.”

“Shut up...”

He mutters to himself, trying to regain his focus.

“She's not my woman. I don't care about her. I don't...”

“There you go again. Trying to dismiss what's in front of you rather than accept it like a petulant child caught with their hand in the cookie jar. You disappoint me, boy.”

His mind is racing, fighting the whirlwind of thoughts and emotions that are conflicting with everything he's ever known. He hates himself for this feeling, for letting it happen right under his nose. His ability to remain detached and unaffected by such trivial matters as attraction or jealousy faltered. Something he kept buried deep within from a time long passed resurfaced in a way he didn't anticipate or want. And he could blame it all on one person. Her. It's her fault he's suffering right now. It's her fault he feels this surge of possessiveness and irritation coursing through him. It's her fault his family is always pushing him to pursue her. It's her fault for making him...

“Can we keep her?”

The memory flashes before his eyes, he can see it so clearly.

“AARGHH!!”

The sudden loud groan of agony snaps him from his thoughts and his attention returns to the pair on the dance floor. Everything is dead silent as if the moment is frozen in time. And what he sees makes his blood boil.

[Moments before…]

The dance between Lynsie and Georgie continues their conversation a careful dance of words and intentions as the music slows into a more delicate song, making the dance match it in stride.

“So, let me see if I got that straight. You had a scout pay off a servant to replace the gems in the throne?”

“Yes. Knowing the magical link the blood moon has, I surmised she would use this to amplify her power. I had a scout confirm this via infiltration. Once proven right, I instructed them to swap out the gems with plain glass fakes. Glass can't handle energy all that well, either resulting in shattering or melting. From hearing it earlier, the main one shattered at least. It's useless now.”

“And the pie full of birds?”

“A distraction tactic. If something were to go awry, either myself or Master Jack were to throw the pie at her, allowing the birds to swarm her. Leaving her open to being taken down.”

“So the Piper was...?”

“A random stroke of convenient luck. Honestly, it pays that no one recognizes who I am. Very few know who I was, and even fewer see me beyond that which I am. Otherwise, precautions would be much higher when idiots try to mess with Master Jack.”

“Can I ask, why you call him that? I get you're his guard and everything, but surely you can see what such a title implies.”

She merely smiles.

“I call him Master Jack because that's his dream. To be the Master of all Magic. I support his dream. So why not show it by addressing him as such?”

He smirks.

“That's rather sweet. Adorable really.”

She shrugs.

“Know something? I haven't been able to get you to smile the entire time I've been with you. But the moment I bring up Jack, you light up like the sun on a cloudless day.”

She adverts her gaze much to his amusement.

“You like him?”

“If by 'like him' you mean, enjoy his company, then yes.”

“Now now, pretty bird. What did I say about lying?”

“I'm not lying.”

“Maybe not to me. But to yourself.”

She flinches and he grins, he struck a nerve.

“Shame too. A girl like you I can see making some fella very happy. But him? I've seen his type before. And I think we both know he's not going to share your feelings.”

Her eyes look to the floor and he leans in closer.

“You don't have to go through that. Why waste what little time you get being alive chasing something that ain't ever going to happen? You don't have to be trapped like that. I could do for you so much more than he ever will.”

His hands move from their respectful placements to less formal spots on her, groping her, and any pleasantness she was taking from this dance is gone in a flash as his lips are by her ear.

“I can treat you like the queen. Your every desire fulfilled and kept unbelievably satisfied. All you need to do is say you'll be mine~.”

Her eyes narrow as she forcefully removes his hands from the inappropriate places. Her composure, which had been remarkably calm during their conversation, now transforms into a cold, steely glare. She doesn't take kindly to unwanted advances, especially in a professional setting.

“What the hell do you think you're doing?”

Georgie smirks, seemingly unfazed by her reaction, raising his hands in mock surrender as best he can in her grip.

“Easy there, dear. I was just testing the waters. No harm done, right?”

Her expression remains stern as she responds with icy determination.

“If that's your means of treatment, then no thanks.”

“Ah, come on. Don't be like that. Give me a chance to show you the kind of fun you're missing out on.”

She clenches her grip on him harshly and lets him go with a warning.

“I don't want fun, Mr. Porgie. I want to be seen as an equal. Jack does that. And that's all I ever need.”

He reaches for her arm and she slaps it away, the sting making him recoil.

“Do not mistake my patience for an invitation to disrespect me. I may have spared one life tonight, but touch me again, and I won't grant you such courtesy.”

He rubs his wrist a bit with a chuckle.

“Has anyone ever told you you're sexy when threatening?”

“You sicken me.”

She turns to walk away and he smirks.

“Jack is real lucky to have a bird like you. A man like that can't be easy to please. You must be amazing in bed.”

Normally, she'd keep walking. But this isn't a normal moment. Not with his insinuating tone. She freezes and glares at him over her shoulder.

“You best shut your mouth.”

He rocks on his heels playfully.

“Based on how he treats you, you must be desperate to be with such a mess like him.”

She's seeing red now. She's fine with being harassed, she can take it. But no one, NO ONE, gets away with badmouthing Jack while she's around. She turns around and advances, rolling back up to him like an approaching storm. Georgie's smirk doesn't fade, and he continues to taunt her, clearly enjoying the rise he's getting out of her.

“I mean, let's be real here. A fat slob like that? There's no way in hell someone like him could ever land a real woman.”

Her eyes locked onto Georgie with an intensity that could make even the bravest of men flinch. She doesn't hesitate to close the distance between them and she swiftly delivers a precise, well-aimed knee to Georgie's groin, causing him to double over in pain with a groan. The surrounding guests gasp and murmur in shock at the sudden turn of events. She stands over him, glaring down at the man before stomping her heel into his back, pushing her weight into it.

“Loathsome piece of shit! You keep his name out of your damn mouth! If you dare utter another disrespectful word about him again, I will personally gut you like the pig you are and strewn your guts about the halls as decorations! Do I make myself clear?!”

She adds to this by grinding her heel into him with enough force that it scrapes his bones. The room falls silent as the guests and even the musicians stop to witness the scene unfolding on the dance floor. Georgie is in excruciating pain on the floor, clutching his crotch. His playful demeanor has vanished, replaced by sheer agony and embarrassment. The guests who had been watching the dance are now witnessing this unexpected turn of events, and a hushed silence falls over the room.

“Tell me, do you still like this? Is this not what you wanted? Where's your distasteful flirts now?”

Her actions are swift and brutal, leaving no room for doubt about her determination to protect Jack's honor. Jack, who's been watching with a growing sense of unease and frustration, couldn't help but smirk at Lynsie's ruthless display. While he may not welcome the emotions and confusion bubbling up within him, he does take enjoyment in seeing her remorseless loyalty and her willingness to defend his reputation.

As Georgie continues to groan in agony, Lynsie lifts her foot off his back and kicks his side, her anger still palpable. She doesn't spare him another glance, her attention solely focused on making her way back to Jack. The atmosphere in the room is tense, and the guests exchange uneasy glances, unsure of how to react to the random violence. Sudden gasps get her attention but too little too late to react. Georgie gets back up, his anger fueling his speed as he leaps onto her and grips the back of her dress.

“Where are you going, frigid shrew?”

Her attempts to retaliate are rendered mute with one powerful kick. But it wasn't just a physical blow. His grip on her dress is vice-like, so when he forces her away with the strike, the dress fabric tears where his hand is, and her back becomes fully exposed. She's momentarily paralyzed as she stands there, the extensive amount of lashing scars on display. Amid the horrid gasps and disturbed sounds from onlookers, one soul is making an obnoxious noise. The sound of slow pretentious clapping and light warmhearted chuckling from Georgie.

“I see. The pretty bird had her wings clipped and became grounded as the frigid shrew. Interesting.”

She hasn't moved, a deep paralyzing shock striking her nerves, a familiar trauma replaying when someone else removes her clothing. Seeing this as a favorable time to torment, he creeps closer.

“What's the matter? Where's that fiery spirit? Where's the bloodthirsty beast that wounded me moments ago?”

He leans in and his cockiness drains away when he sees her face. It's a look that makes his blood run cold. There's no emotion about her, her muscles tense and her jaw is set in a hard line. But her eyes. Wide open and locked on him, pupils dilated with a dark predatory intensity. And much to his dismay, despite the anger and humiliation he's tried to force on her, there are no tears.

“Wha...Why aren't you crying?”

He grits his teeth as this is taken as a worse insult to him than when she kneed him.

“Did you forget who I am? I'm Georgie 'Your Last Kiss' Porgie! I make women cry! Cry for me, you dumb bit-!”

In the midst of his tirade, he raised his hand to strike her. Only his words and swing are halted by a few things. One, her vice-like clawing hold on his wrist. Two, a coat being dropped on her to cover her back. And three, the rather large hand of Jack Horner grabbing hold of Georgie's head. Blinded by his fury, Georgie failed to notice the massive man's approach. Seeing the look on Jack's face, Georgie would swear he was looking into the face of Death itself. If he's going to get out of this he's going to have to backpedal like crazy. So he adorns an awkward smile and tries to steady his frantically racing heart.

“H-Hey, buddy...”

Jack remains cold, merely making a small huff that gets Lynsie to let Georgie go before he moves her to his side, making Georgie gulp.

“Now...I know this looks bad. And I am super sorry if I crossed a line or two. But...But! We were just playing around. Heh. Heh. Nothing wrong with a little roughhousing...right?”

Jack is not amused, his scowl could turn Medusa to stone. Georgie sweats nervously. He might be a hitman, but he only targets women. Men are too much for him. And a man like Jack is far above his skill range. So he defaults to what he's good at in the hopes he can at least talk his way out of not being hurled out a window.

“Come on, man, you can't be that mad at me. This is just my nature. I mess with the ladies. It's my thing. Besides, it's not like I hurt her. And even if I did, clearly she's used to much worse...”

Jack's eyes widen as his right one twitches.

“I figured you for a sadist but, damn! You go hard if you scar her- w-wait...Jack?! Wait, wait, WAIT!!”

In one swift motion, Jack lifts Georgie as high as his hand can go before using all his force to bring him face-first into the hard marble floor. His entire head vanishes under the palm of Jack. The marble cracks. Bone crunches. Blood splatters like a mallet hitting a melon. Pretty sure bits of Georgie are shot out from the crushing impact if the screams are anything to go on.

He takes a few deep breaths through his nose before letting out a long exhale as he settles. All the taunts and teasing from Georgie were one thing, but that last cut he made hit closer to home than he'd like to admit. Jack might be a lot of things and he has no moral qualms about ending lives or bringing chaos in his wake. But he'd be damned if someone suggested he'd hurt her. That he'd hurt what was his.

“Master Jack?”

Her soft voice is a much-needed aid to calm him down. He looks at her, the fire in her eyes cooled down and her composure is restored in spite of her current dishevelment. He straightens himself back up, shaking his hand of gunk.

“You see the size of the bug? Damn thing was huge.”

He chortles a bit and she smiles at his dismissive joke about crushing a man.

Now, while they had been allowed some reprieve to handle things due to saving the King and the Kingdom as a whole, this straight-up execution is a bit too much to overlook. The knights draw close, just enough to make it clear it's best that the two of them should go. No further goading needs to be done. Jack's coat pretty much smothers her like a blanket, so she practically is engulfed when he scoops her up and hicks her up over his shoulder.

“Well...Thanks for the party. Sorry about the mess. I'm sure that can be buffed right out.”

“By the way, he was paid to kill your daughter. You might want to check for who hired him. Toodles!”

Lynsie casually sharing that bit of info at least casts the concerning attention back to Georgie's body, now for other reasons. Jack carries her away while the knights search the body for clues. He rounds the doors leaving the room but is jerked back when she grabs the frame.

“What are you doing?”

“Hey!”

She shouts, pulling the coat away so they can see her hardened expression.

“If ANY of you dare think he did this to me, you know nothing! This...”

She gestures to her back.

“This is what a mother's so-called love looks like. Don't believe a word of that scumbag's insinuations! He spoke lies! Filthy dirty lies!!”

Jack jerks her and she lets go, allowing him to continue moving again. His steps echo away as he retraces the way back out, not a word being said. The courtyard isn't nearly as occupied by carriages as when they arrived. Certainly made finding theirs easier. Wordlessly, the driver knows to head for the docks once they enter the carriage. It's time to get as far away from this place as soon as they can.

[One unwieldy returning boat trip and ride home later]

As the carriage approaches the factory, the tension from what had transpired still hangs heavily in the air. Mostly because Jack and Lynsie, apart from not taking time to sleep, have remained silent during the journey, lost in their thoughts. Jack, his stoic expression unchanged, and his thoughts hidden behind a mask of detachment. And Lynsie wearing a contemplative and slightly bruised look. They barely did much more than just acknowledge each other, a strange unease hitting them when alone together.

The events at Fiorimonde's have left both of them with a lot to process. Lynsie's encounter with Georgie was both infuriating and distressing, as it brought to the surface emotions and conflicts she had tried to keep buried. She had never intended to get close to Jack in a romantic way, yet after everything, the unexpected feelings she had been suppressing were now impossible to ignore. Jack, on the other hand, found himself grappling with emotions he had long considered irrelevant and a hindrance to his efficient and calculated nature. He had always believed himself to be the master of his feelings, but Lynsie had managed to disrupt that control in a way he couldn't fully comprehend.

The sun is setting and the city's streets are beginning to be illuminated by the soft glow of lanterns, casting eerie shadows that dance across their faces as they ride by. The carriage crosses the moat bridge and goes through the main gates to finally come to a halt at their factory home. The guards open the door for them, and they step out onto the familiar cobblestone. The hum of the building's work nearing its finishing hours for the day is a much-welcomed sound to their ears. They head inside, Jack paying no attention to the staff, seemingly on autopilot as he makes his way to his living quarters. Lynsie, in his shadow and still draped in his coat but in a less awkward way, keeps her eyes on the floor.

The atmosphere is a stark contrast to the tense journey they endured. The rhythmic sounds of machinery and the chatter of workers create a sense of normalcy that provides a momentary reprieve from the chaos of the outside world. The staff members who catch sight of them exchange curious glances, sensing that something significant has transpired, but they wisely choose to mind their own business and continue with their tasks.

As Jack and Lynsie enter their living quarters, the atmosphere remains heavy with unspoken tension. Jack goes straight to a cabinet, pouring himself a glass of whiskey and downing it in one swift motion before pouring himself another. Lynsie sheds off his coat to leave it on a nearby rack, removing the collected necklace from its pocket and placing it in a drawer, her expression of deep contemplation as she slowly passes him by. As he sets down his glass to fix his third helping, he catches sight of her just standing absentmindedly in the hall leading to their rooms. He knows he should keep his mouth shut. He's too sober to deal with kind of crap right now. Unlucky for him, she breaks the silence.

“Jack...”

Jack's hand freezes mid-pour.

“Thank you.”

It's the first thing she's said to him since their tense journey home, and he's not entirely sure what to make of it.

“Shall I fix your bath?”

Jack continues to pour his drink, not immediately responding to her words. He takes a sip, savoring the burn as it courses down his throat. All he does is wave dismissively. She understands and leaves him to his thirst. He remains in the living area, nursing his drink and lost in thought, using alcohol as a means to numb the conflicting machinations swirling within him.

On her end, Lynsie quietly enters her room. Behind closed doors and alone, everything sinks in, hitting with the impact of multiple waves. Her feelings for Jack have always been complex, a mix of admiration, trust, and something deeper that she's refused to acknowledge. She's always told herself that their partnership is strictly professional, but she knows better. The illusion will be shattered eventually and it scares her. She doesn't want to lose him. She doesn't want to make him think there's something wrong with her to the point she is seen as a liability. She's done well to ignore that drunken incident at his parents' place. All she has to do is bottle it more. If that moment means nothing to Jack then it means nothing to her. There's no sense dwelling on it. So all that distasteful talk of Georgie, about him giving her what Jack can't, it's all a crock of shit! She doesn't need things to be more than what they are. Things are fine as is! Her temper flares up when she recalls how that disgusting bastard touched her. It made her skin crawl. She felt a need to scrub this feeling and everything away. She wanders to her bathroom and fills the tub with warm water, adding a few drops of fragrant oils to create a soothing atmosphere. As the tub fills, she undresses, removing her torn dress and examining the extent of the damage to it. A real shame, it was quite nice. Her reflection in the mirror catches her attention. Her eyes narrow as she looks at her back and scars crisscrossing her skin. She runs her fingers along the marks before sighing, shutting off the water, and submerging herself. Intending to wash it all away before fixing things up for him. She must be clean.

…

Hours pass, the factory's machinery rhythmic hum in the background slowly fading into silence. The building settling for the night. The room is dimly lit, with the soft glow of the lanterns casting long shadows on the walls. Finally, he finishes his last drink and sets the empty glass aside, his fingers tapping rhythmically against the glass as he stares at the remnants of the amber liquid. With a heavy sigh, he heads to his room. His senses faintly dulled but still worked fine if the sweet scent coming from the hall was anything to go off of. The air is warm and inviting. His mind concluded that she had at least washed up for the night. He couldn't blame her there. Though he must've been saucing up for a while, the only light he sees is coming from his own room. A knowing smirk comes to him as he goes in.

Shutting his door, he begins to shed away the garments that at this point felt unconformably restrictive. His bed is made. Clothing for tomorrow is set aside at the ready. A few candles give enough light to lead him safely to his bathroom where a rich heliotrope smell wafts out from. Following it, he finds a bath prepared and steam still rising from the water. The sight makes him chuckle. She's always a step ahead when it comes to tending to his needs. And right now...This is something he needs. Gone away is the last of his clothes and he eases into the warm water, feeling the tension in his muscles slowly soothe almost instantly. The soothing sensation of the bath water further aids the whiskey in his system to calm his mind. For the first time in a while, he feels like himself again. He feels good. As he relaxes further, the events of the day begin to fade into the ether. The soothing water eases the stress from his body, and the quiet solitude of the bathroom provides a moment of respite from the chaos of the outside world. He closes his eyes and leans back, allowing himself to fully savor the tranquility of the moment.

“It's not like anyone will know. She's better off with us anyway.”

His eyes open at the sound of his memory. He shakes his head clear then dunks himself, drowning out his thoughts.

“What do you mean we can't? I want her!”

He springs back up with a splash and gasping. Water drips from his face as he takes a deep breath, trying to shake off the intrusive memories that have resurfaced. He clenches his fists in frustration, the water rippling around him as he struggles to regain control over his thoughts. The memories continue to haunt Jack as he bathes, the voices from his past echoing in his mind, creeping in like shadows in the night. Despite the soothing effects of the bath, he can't fully relax, the weight of his past and recent events pressing down on him. He finishes his wash, the warm water no longer providing solace. He stands, water droplets cascading down the contours of his body as he steps out of the tub. He doesn't bother with drying off, merely wrapping a towel around his waist before dragging himself to bed and flopping into it. Almost hoping it will swallow him up so he won't have to deal with these stupid issues.

Time loses all meaning as he lies in bed, his damp hair plastered to his forehead, staring up at the ceiling watching the shadows from the candlelight dance while his thoughts are in disarray once more. Whiskey ain't lasting as long as it used to. As he lies there in silence, he can't help but think about her despite trying to think of anything else. She's become a significant part of his life. He values her skills, trusts her implicitly, and has come to rely on her in ways he never thought he would. And now, with the emotions and possessiveness he's feeling, he can't help but wrestle for control of himself, hoping that sleep will eventually claim him and grant him some reprieve from the turmoil within. But as the candles dwindle such peace refuses to grant him reprieve. His mind is a tangled mess, a battlefield of conflicting regrets, frustrations, and desires. He claws his fists into the sheets, his knuckles bone white, exasperation coursing through him like a maelstrom. He's one step closer to the edge and about to break.

“I have no interest in such matters. Attachments are nothing more than self-made weaknesses waiting to be exploited. I don't need companionship.”

So much has happened in what felt like a short amount of time to him. He had learned much and just began to understand things, at least, as best he could anyway. He values her beyond what he intended, he's grown attached, and he's made himself vulnerable by allowing someone to get close to him. It's a feeling he's not accustomed to, it's unsettling and yet he can't stop the intrusive thoughts from flooding him. She's always there when he needs her. Always has his best interests at heart. And always there to uphold his honor when someone tries to spit on his name. Oh, hearing her threaten lives in his defense stirs something fierce in him and has him feeling warm in all the right ways. And seeing her out of her element for once, all dolled up like a proper woman, it was as bizarre as it was a breath of fresh air. The way she looked so elegant, there's no way anyone would guess she was once some battered gutter snipe. When dancing she moved with grace and deadly skill. The gentle warmth in her voice made even her harsher words cut twice as deep. The sweet floral scent, rose mixed with vanilla if he had to guess, he could still get hints of it from when she came in to set things up for him. It lingers like a phantom.

“Damn it...”

With a resigned sigh, knowing sleep was a joke at this point, he pushes himself up and sits on the edge of the bed. He didn't like this. He didn't like thinking this way. It's irrational. She's the emotional one, not him. When? When did this start to happen to him? When did he start to see her differently? Part of him wanted to blame his parents and their constant fondness for her. His father just loved to egg him on about settling down with her. He'd easily dismiss these remarks, but now it was harder to do that. Not when his body reacted in ways he couldn't handle. God, why did they have to go at it that night? What was going to happen if they hadn't passed out? Would things have gone further? Would that have been okay? What would that mean if they did go further? Could things be the same if they did it? The mere thought of it causes him to shudder and his cheeks to flush, he quickly shakes his head to banish the inappropriate images from his mind. He rubs his temples, feeling an oncoming headache, his blood pumping as his heart starts going a bit fast. All this thinking only made it worse. He's never been one to run from his problems, but he's never faced one quite like this. Yet how does he even begin to navigate this new territory? It's uncharted waters for him, and he's ill-equipped to deal with it. All he knows for sure is something is making him feel incredibly pent up with an overwhelming urge to have her. He knows this is a dangerous path to tread, but he can't deny the turmoil within him any longer.

Maybe...Maybe just this once...He can indulge and get it out of his system. That could work...Right?

As he contemplates his next steps, he realizes that even though he's emotionally off his game, he's still the one in control of this situation. He's calling the shots here. It's his choice what will happen. So, being the smart guy he is, he thinks up a plan and gets his resolve back. He gets off his bed and dons his robe before stepping out of his room. The distance between their rooms never felt so far before even though her room was just a few doors away. Silently he makes his way to her door, his heart pounding in his chest with each barefooted step. He hesitates for a moment, his hand hovering over the doorknob, praying it's locked so he has a reason to turn back and forget this crazy whim that dares grip him, yet...it's unlocked and opens with ease.

No going back now.

Stepping inside he is hit with that scent of hers like a pleasant punch to the face. Just standing at the door brought a mix of calm and unease. Never was entering her room this difficult. But he was already this far and Jack Horner doesn't leave anything half-finished. There, in the light of the fireplace that is slowly dwindling, she lies sleeping in bed. He approached her bed, his heart thundering in his ears. He didn't know what he was doing, but he couldn't resist the pull any longer. Taking in how the sheets clung and highlighted her figure as she lay on her side, in her nightgown, her hair strewn about her pillow still damp from bathing. She looked tired even when sleeping. The potion on the side table looked used, but knowing her and how she times getting up before him, she didn't take a full dose. So rousing her shouldn't be too hard. He reaches out and nudges her shoulder, giving her a bit of a shake till she grabs his arm on reflex as her eyes wearily open. She yawns and he shushes her before she can speak a word. There's a brief moment of confusion in her expression before recognition dawns on her features. She lets his arm go with a mixture of curiosity and uncertainty.

“I need you.”

She's understandably puzzled by what he means by that, but she nods while rubbing her eyes, her instinct is to just do as he says. Throwing caution to the wind, he steadies himself and scoops her out of bed, taking her back to his room. In his room, Jack gently places her on the edge of his bed before stepping back, his robe slipping from his shoulders as he stands before her, his expression unreadable yet intense. She blinks in bewilderment, her sleepy/potion-fogged mind slowly processing the situation in front of her. She's now in his room, alone with him, and he's standing before her in just a towel with an air of uncertainty mixed with something more primal. She sits up straighter, her gaze locked onto him as she tries to make sense of what's happening. He takes a deep breath and speaks in a voice that is barely above a whisper.

“There's something I need you to do for me. Something only you can do. You're going to help me. Okay?”

His hand reaches out to cup her face, his thumb brushing against her cheek. Her breath catches in her throat as his words wash over her. She never expected this, not in a million years, going so far as to vaguely wonder if she was still sleeping. Jack had always been the kind to denounce such needs or physical contact. And now, here he was, vulnerable and raw in front of her. Her mind races, conflicting emotions swirling within her. She wants to reach out to him, to comfort him, but she's also terrified of making things awkward. He hovers over her, his eyes locked onto hers, his gaze intense and searching.

“Do you understand what I mean? What I want of you?”

It hits her like a house falling on a wicked witch. Her cheeks flush and she shivers nervously. He can see the mixture of emotions playing across her face. Confusion, surprise, uncertainty, and something else he can't quite place. Her lips parted slightly as if she were about to speak, but she remained silent. Her heart racing as he feels the warmth pooling in her cheeks against his hand. This is a stark contrast to the woman he's used to every day or even the glimpse of the one from that night with the brandy. She's hesitant. She's hesitating about being with him. That's not normal. Her eyes falter for a moment, her gaze shifting away from him, and his grip on her face tightens to get her attention back on him.

“Do you trust me?”

That question does it. The hesitation leaves her. The fire in her eyes is back and she locks with his gaze.

“Absolutely.”

He smiles softly and his grip loosens.

“Tell me you want this.”

This was it. This was the point of no return. This was the only out he was presenting. If she takes it, he'll let her go, she knows he won't force something. And knowing that, plus seeing him like this, seeing him get to this point where he sought her out for such a personal moment that he wouldn't show anyone else...It makes the choice crystal clear to her.

“I want this.”

With that, his hand slides from her face down to her shoulder as he leans in.

“This. What's going to happen. It never leaves this room.”

She nods, no word of this will leave her lips. He gives the hem of her nightgown a small tug and removes his hand. She stands and slowly lets her gown slide off her shoulders. It comes as only a slight shock that she wore nothing else underneath. It was all so surreal in that moment. To see her as bare as he felt. It's almost too much. Without a word, he wraps his arms around her and pulls her close, holding her tightly against his chest. It's an unspoken gesture, a silent acknowledgment of the complex emotions and desires that have been simmering beneath the surface. It takes her a moment to adjust to this, being held like this is something she's not used to. Let alone by him. But feeling his warmth helps her relax and she gives into his embrace, resting her head against his chest. It's a moment of susceptibility and intimacy that neither of them has been allowed or let themselves experience before.

“Good girl.”

His words trail off as he lifts her to be at level with him before closing the distance between them, capturing her lips in a heated kiss. It's a kiss with meaning that lays the groundwork for how things will proceed. For Jack, it's a mixture of relief, desire, and a sense of finally allowing himself to not hold back. For Lynsie, it's a surge of warmth, belonging, a feeling of being wanted and needed by the one she holds above all others. Their kiss deepens, becoming more passionate, as they lose themselves in the moment. It's a slow burn, a quiet intensity that ignites between them. He takes the initiative to get things moving a bit more steadily, he's not looking to take all night, and he intends to get his satisfaction sooner rather than later. One hand keeps her held up while his other hand roams up to her neck and undoes the clasp on her choker, letting it drop from her neck. The shivers that his fingers cause from just skimming her exposed skin have her hands clutching his shoulders much to his amusement.

“So sensitive...”

He teases before bringing his mouth to her nape and takes a playful bite, faintly recalling how this was a secret spot that made her melt all those nights ago. Her sharp gasp and tightening hold only confirmed that this memory was true.

“Heh. Are you sure you can handle this?”

He cheekily mocks.

“Because at this rate, you're not going to last for long if a little nibble can make your knees weak.”

It takes her a moment to settle her breathing before she looks at him with a stern smirk.

“What? What's with that look?”

She cups his face then pulls him in for a rather deep kiss, her tongue slips between his lips, and their mouths meld together in a heated sensual dance before she pulls away biting his lower lip. His face is devoid of emotion in stunned shock and merely does a few blinks as it all sinks in. It makes her smile.

“Good boy.”

She teases, a play on the very words he uses on her and a subtle nod to his rhyme just to add a little bite to it. His face flushed red as it scrunched in an almost childish glare, upset that she for a moment was not only able to fluster him but did so in a way that rubbed him wrong. His retort to such an act is to grab her by the wrists and yank her off, dangling her in front of him like it's nothing. Their eyes lock, and he snarls at her before tossing her onto his bed, discarding the towel as he approaches. She doesn't get time to get used to his bed, not when he pins her down with one hand.

“I'm trying to be gentle. Don't push my buttons. Understood?”

His words are of warning but his tone is almost daring. It's a strange baited mix for her.

“Just...Behave for me.”

Yet no matter what, when it comes to him, her instinct is to always do as he says. She wouldn't risk disappointing him.

“Understood. I'm sorry.”

With that established, he pulls her towards him as he stands at the edge of the bed, her legs parting to either side of him. Such a sight, even in the weakening light of the candles he can see the pink hue of her fair skin, brought from the heat of blood rushing beneath the surface. Knowing that he's the cause of such a rush is quite the thrill in and of itself. He pulls her closer till their hips meet and she yelps from the contact. She can feel the hardness of his need pressing against her, standing tall and proud. Such a compromising scene before him and yet his eyes eat up every bit of it. It's still little more than skin on skin, but with the size difference between them and being the one in control has him heating up. One could say excited even. Like someone about to play with their favorite toy. He brings a hand down and palms her chest, she flinches slightly but doesn't stop his exploration. They're both always so covered up, yet she's seen him bare more than he's seen her. His thick fingers sprawled out over the soft mounds of flesh, the index and ring fingers kneading into her breasts while the other three digits framed them like a trident. His lips curled playfully as the soft buds hardened under his touch.

“Feeling okay down there?”

Her head is lulled to the side and her face flushed, her breathing hitching when he fiddles with her nipples.

“Y-Yeah. I'm...I'm good.”

“You sure?”

He teased, taking enjoyment in how dazed she was getting from mere touches.

“Because to me, you seem to be liking this.”

She bites her lip to stifle herself when his other hand joins in to give her a rather purposeful squeeze and he snickers. It was a power trip to have this much control over her. The more he touched her, the more he watched her slowly succumb further to maddening feelings. The way her eyes lost their focus, how her hands clenched the sheets, the trembles that he could feel against her, and the sounds he could get her to make were bliss. His heart beating steadily faster, blood rushing to a certain organ that was calling for his attention lately. His hips absentmindedly press more to hers and, shamefully, she whines. It's a moment that stuns them both but he recovers faster. It was the last tether to his impulse control.

Taking a step back, he flips her over onto her stomach and returns to being between her legs. The need yearning by his anything but “little” friend giving him basic instinctual instructions on what to do. He pulls her by her hips and props her up on her knees, she tries to lift her front to be level with this position but he shoves her back down with a press to the base of her neck.

“Stay down.”

She gives a small anxious huff through her nose yet nods, her mind doing what it can to prepare for what's to come but the nervous shivers that rock her are proof she's not nearly as prepared as expected. The trembling doesn't bother him, a minor thing he can fix along the way, right now his focus is on seeking relief from the pent-up feeling that's bubbling more than ever. With one hand still clasping her hip, he grinds himself against her, his length sliding along her sex and making him shudder at the ease of doing so. A warm slickness coated his member. He might have been teasing her about enjoying this but right now that was certainly a good thing. This buildup and lubrication, while annoyingly tedious on his end, is a necessary thing to do. Most would look at him, a hulking unit of a man, and think he's got a trouser snake that could be used like a club. But those people would be inaccurate. He is decent down there, a modest nine inches long, yet it's his girth that could be an issue...eight inches thick.

Such concerns fade away when the bulbous head of his shaft rubs her clit one too many times and the mewling whimper that leaves her makes him tremble. Only in this brief momentary pause do they hear how loud they have been breathing, panting overheated dogs that ran for miles would be put to shame. And their faces, between the embarrassed need on her and the shocked arousal on him, it's interesting to say the least. A surging pulse goes through him, his manhood throbbing, impatiently demanding attention. No more waiting. No more care. Time to do what he started, seek his own fulfillment and put this to rest.

He removes the hand from her back and has it join the other on her hips, fingers gripping round to pull at the flesh tighter than necessary, but the feeling anchors him. He hears himself breathing through his nose as he aligns himself and then slowly presses at her entrance. There's resistance, despite how wet it is, despite how turned on she had gotten and wanted to deny, but the squeeze for him is intoxicating. The way his thick head forces itself in, making her suddenly bite the sheets to muffle her cries as he stretches her insides to accommodate him, but when he finally pops in his body tenses by itself. He grinds his teeth at the sensation, mind buzzing, thigh muscles clenching. She similarly gnawed the sheets a little to fight back the wincing at the pain, every agonizing inch was enough to bring tears to her eyes and make her claw with enough strength that she likely ripped his bedding. His gut rested on her ample backside as he worked his length into her till he bottomed out. Small gasps leave him as he is flooded with sensation after sensation, nearly finishing right there.

“F-Fuck...”

He huffs shaky breathes as if to keep what little control he has. He was gracious enough to give her a few moments to adjust and for his eyes to clear of stars that blinded his sight, this was more intense than he was led to believe for just getting started. This faint reprieve is a blessing for her. She feels like he's tearing her apart yet filling a space that she didn't realize was empty. Worse still, she knows this is nothing compared to once he starts moving. His fingers flex in his grip on her and she tenses up, eyes closing tight as she braces for the harshness to come. Her tensing inadvertently has her clenching, forcing a garbled groan to leave him.

“Aahhhh, ah, f-fuck! Relax! Relax, damn it!!”

Easier said than done considering her position is similar to a rectangle being forced into a round hole but that rectangle is three times the hole's size. She hisses at him.

“It hurts!”

“No shit, you're...A-Ah, ah! It's...too tight! You're too t-tight!!”

His breath choked out as his hips jerked, shoving himself deeper when his legs nearly gave out, resulting in her body giving out from the overload of signals going off in his brain and her muscles loosening their hold for both their sake. His chest heaves as he recovers from the whiteout that flashed his senses and takes this as his chance to get things going before she can tense up again, the damn woman was going to hurt them both if that kept up. With a small huff through his nose, he starts slowly pulling out a little before he pushes back in, a simple rhythm. It was more bearable than before, still not the best sensation so far, but so much better now that he got some friction going. He was going slow, moving his thumbs to her inner thighs and spreading her more, a meager kindness at the moment that would be forgotten as he was already starting to speed up. His head lulls back and he closes his eyes, losing himself in euphoria.

For a fair bit, she's just taking it as if something inside broke, like she was incapable of doing more than making responsive sounds that seemed a mix of pain and effort. It isn't till he thrusts, striking a bundle of nerves, that she comes alive again with a harsh cry and back arching. His eyes snap open and he watches as she writhes, her legs shaking at his sides, and her eyes burning their gaze into his bed. It was thrilling. Wanting to witness such a sight again, his hips became flushed against hers as he penetrated her, impaling himself to hit that spot again and she wailed bloody murder. He leaned down, the weight of his stomach touching her back, and she strained to look at him through water-filled eyes. His mouth curls into a malevolent grin, a wicked hunger for more rising in him, ready to enjoy even more of...

“Jack...”

Her pitiful voice makes him falter. Clarity letting him take her in as she is. The sword and shield that stands at his side at all times looks at him with dimmed eyes dulled with tears. He'd seen her like this before. Like a wounded animal that needs help but knows it'll never get it. It's the same look she had back then.

“I figured you for a sadist but, damn!”

A chill runs down his spine. His eyes glanced at her back, brows furrowing at the marks sliced into her.

“If ANY of you dare think he did this to me, you know nothing!”

Something inside him sank with new weight. Shaking his head of lingering ghosts, he continues his advance in moving to be over her, his mass doing the work of his hands to keep her in place and his hands find new things to hold. He collects her hands, taking hold of both at the wrists and pins them out in front of them while his other hand tucks slightly under her to cradle her head in his palm. This position was just as dominating as the last but slightly more...intimate. It has her rather confused.

“Jack?”

“Shhhhh...”

He buries his face in her neck and he feels her pulse speed up, heart fluttering from just his breath wafting on her sensitive nape. He whispers in her ear, his words being soft yet impactful. Her cheeks burn yet she's calm, albeit flustered but given the moment that's expected. His lips leave her ear to explore her neck. The shivers and tiny breathy noises that leave her from just the slightest brush against her nape, he'd be lying if this wasn't something he was going to abuse later any chance he got. Oh, and as if that wasn't alluring enough, once he started using his teeth that's when things got going again. He hadn't moved since he took to this new position, allowing her to get used to his size for as long as he deemed necessary, which was considerate on his part, but the ache was coming back and the warmth of her body was what he needed.

After such respite, he slowly began pulling back and then easing back in once more, his hips stuttering a little at the droned-out groan that left her throat. Such a sound spurned him on. Dragging his hips, obviously trying to be deliberate in his rhythm but slowly picking up pace with each spastic thrust till that was all he was doing. Rough and steady. Hard and bruising. Chasing a high that is getting more and more intense as it goes. His remorseless pistoning pushed her into the mattress even further. Sweat glistened off their overheating bodies and dripped onto the bedding. His complexion flushed, lilac hair a mess, and stars sparkling in his eyes. Her eyes shut tight, body shaking yet can't move, and toes curling almost painfully. His wild thrusts fogged her mind yet something deep in her subconscious was making her hold in much of her sounds. This doesn't go unnoticed by him for long. With the hand cradling her head, he uses his middle finger to pry her mouth open.

“Don't...Don't hold back...”

He shudders between husky panting.

“I want...I want to hear you...”

She feels him shifting his weight, propping one of his legs up on the mattress for added leverage and momentum. He resumes his breakneck pace at the new angle and slams right into that bundle of nerves with lethal precision. Her moan is deafening but he doesn't let up, he keeps going like he wants to rob her lungs of precious oxygen with all her lamentations. With this new position, he hits that sweet spot better than before, making her see stars, all discomfort gone by now and only pleasure in its place. Soon enough a cacophony of moans, pants, and whimpers fill the room. The delightful effect of all this is that it makes the climax come faster. Her restrained hands twist to grab at anything, the sheets not being enough anymore. He growls as his manhood twitches inside her, his motions stuttering when his name leaves her lips. A string of raw heated curses from him heats her blood to dangerous degrees. It all becomes too much when in the heat of it all he bites into her neck, the torrent of endorphins makes her go rigid with a broken cry as her orgasm hits. She clenches around him, legs shaking with the force of release so strong that her heart potentially stops for a moment. He continues to pound into her, uncaring about her sensitivities, and she only whimpers for him helplessly as she feels him pulsate each time he nestled deep within her. With a few more rapid thrusts, he reaches his end and finishes, forcing himself as deep as he can into her, a sticky heat flooding her core.

And just like that...It was over. What felt like intense painstaking hours was actually more like a steamy twenty-minute or so romp, but a wild one nonetheless. Coming down from such ecstasy is a slow process. Their exhausted breaths come out in synchrony. Overstimulated minds regaining their reasoning. Muscles relaxing to struggling levels. Jack's heart beats steadily, feeling the rhythm of hers against his chest. It takes him everything he has left to untangle from her and roll over onto his back. Lord how she aches. The muscle cramps alone from being unable to move while spasming were burning more than the bruises that will inevitably set in. She struggles to flip over, chest heaving shakily, legs useless for the time being. She blinks a few times, her vision going from blips of white to just darkness. The candles had since burned out and only the light of the moon's pale glow illuminated the room.

“When did the lights go out...?”

A chuckle leaves him.

“No clue.”

He rubs his face, glancing at her out of his peripheral. His gaze is dull, not holding any of the feelings it did even minutes prior, but also memorizing the state he's left her in.

“So...How are you holding up?”

She looks his way.

“I think you rearranged my guts and destroyed my pelvis.”

It might've been a joke but it stroked his ego all the same.

“Don't think you can use that as an excuse later. I expect you to still perform your duties.”

“Wasn't even a thought in my mind.”

Silence permeates the room. An awkwardness creeps in that brings with it curiosity and uncertainty.

“Why did you let me do this?”

His internal question slipped out for her to hear.

“You said you needed me.”

She answers like it's a matter of fact.

“You could've told me no.”

“I know. But I wasn't going to leave you in need.”

He knows he should be grateful for her loyalty. She did something that was beyond their basic partnership. Beyond the simplicity of boss and aid. Yet, it's precisely that closeness that concerns him.

“Master Jack...”

The use of her professional title for him gets his attention.

“Would it be alright if I slept here? Given how I can't feel my legs.”

He paused. He could just kick her out and make her crawl back to her room. Yet...He doesn't. He merely hauls himself up to sit at the edge of the bed, pulls back the covers, and climbs in.

“Do as you want.”

He sounded so distant for being next to her. Once more they opened up and exposed what was guarded, only to close the doors on themselves again. For every step forward, they take five more back. Still, they've crossed a threshold that can't be undone. Whatever aftermath, if any, will come of it will be dealt with later whenever one of them is willing to acknowledge it. Till then, she pulls herself more across the sheets, trying to find a comfortable position at the foot of his bed. Jack watches her out of the corner of his eye, his expression unreadable. She settles herself lying on her side facing away from him, not bothering to cover up. This earns her a kick from behind as he shifts uncomfortably onto his back.

“Don't be stupid. You'll catch your death like that.”

She doesn't acknowledge this right away, taking her time to pull some coverage over her. It's things like this that make her conflicted. Glimpses of care. Confusing emotions. Ebbing emptiness. All swirling like a tempestuous sea. Yet for a moment, as brief as it was, there was a point where everything culminated to make things clear. That made things feel...right. The words he whispered to her will forever be imprinted on her soul. She belonged to him. Completely.

There's a palpable distance between them now, a stark contrast to the intense intimacy they shared only moments ago. The room falls into silence once more, and it's clear that unspoken thoughts are swirling in the air. Soon enough they both drift into an uneasy sleep, their bodies and minds exhausted from the tumultuous events of the evening. In the darkness, grappling with their inner demons and the uncharted territory of their feelings for each other.

————————————————–

Lynsie was back at their wagon again. This became a habit the longer the Horner's stayed by the village. Initially brought there by Jack, she began to frequent the area almost like a stray puppy, often lurking around the wagon. In her visits, she would occasionally pilfer coins from patrons of other wagons, using them to buy pie or simply offering them as tokens of gratitude to the family of traveling bakers. Jonathan and Elizabeth felt sorry for her. Each time she appeared at their wagon, she seemed to be in a sorry state; bruised, lash cuts across her back, and ravaged by hunger. They pitied her and found her situation to be one that puzzled them. They couldn't understand why someone would subject such a seemingly innocent girl to such cruelty. Despite her hardships, she remained gentle and grateful, endearing herself to the couple even more. They couldn't turn a blind eye to her suffering, and with each visit, their hearts went out to her and they began treating her as a surrogate child. As Lynsie continued to seek refuge at their wagon, they made it a point to provide her with not only pie but also comfort and compassion, hoping to alleviate her pain and offer her a semblance of solace amidst the chaos of her life.

This wasn't so much the case when it came to their son, Jack. Now this was where things for the adults were extremely difficult to understand. Sure, they’ve witnessed Jack a few times raise his voice and push her around as he vented, but never going so far as to harm her, be it physical or otherwise. Weirdly enough, that was the thing. They know Jack to lash out and not care about who or what the collateral damage was. Yet when it came to her it was a different story. One moment they’ll witness him bully her, and in the next, they’re chatting it up enough to make each other laugh. Their relationship appeared to be a mix of antagonism and companionship, leaving Jonathan and Elizabeth torn between empathy for Lynsie's suffering and a desire to understand the odd bond these kids made.

They couldn't quite grasp the dynamics at play of Jack and Lynsie's relationship. It seemed like a complicated situation, one that neither child would be willing to talk about if asked. Jack could be more stubborn than any mule when it came to keeping things to himself. Her, however, it was clear she didn't talk for different reasons. Painful personal reasons. Despite the building closeness, Lynsie remained tight-lipped about her family, particularly her mother whom the mere mention of would spark panic in her eyes, leaving Jonathan and Elizabeth with more questions. And none of them were anything good.

However, this was different. At least this time they knew why she was messed up when she came back.

As he tends to do when particularly upset, Jack had run off in a fit and missed Lynsie's arrival to their wagon. Upon learning he had dashed away on his own, she ran after him in worry, knowing how bad the small town could be. This would be a lesson Jack learned the hard way. While the adults paid him no mind, the same could not be said about the children who treated this place like it were their hunting grounds. Seeing him as an easy mark, what with him not being from the area, they jumped him. Pulled into an alley away from prying eyes, he's roughed up and kicked around. Their strategy is to weaken their target so it's easier to pilfer what they can.

Yet Jack isn't the doughy pushover like they'd thought he'd be. He's a Horner after all, and he's full of “I'll make you regret life” energy. He fights back. Such efforts probably would've been fine had he been up against just one or two, maybe even three of them. But this was a group of six and Jack isn't used to defending himself, he's more specialized in intimidation. So he ends up getting swarmed when he throws a harsh punch in a fit after one shoves him into the nasty muck of the ground. It's not a pretty sight. Punches and kicks fly. One even busts his nose, blood leaking out as he shouts in pain. Suddenly, one of them is brought down and makes the scene pause.

The reason?

Lynsie had jumped on their back and bit hard into their neck. The snarling growls from her resemble that of a rabid dog. One of the bigger kids attempted to get her off their sibling only for her to turn on them too. Jack watches in astonishment as the frail girl goes feral in his defense. Biting and clawing on his assailants till their numbers overtake, beating her down till she's slumped on the ground hardly able to move yet still glaring at them. Glaring with those strong burning eyes of hers. They still have the upper hand with their numbers but at this point, their interest isn't strong enough to continue their efforts, so they leave the alley to lick their wounds.

Though a bit worse for ware, Jack gets up and, with some biting words, gets her to pick herself up so they too can depart from this wretched place. One can only imagine what went through Jonathan and Elizabeth's minds when the children returned to the wagon. Jack begrudgingly helped Lynsie inside as defending him left her with little energy. Elizabeth immediately set to work cleaning and bandaging Lynsie's latest wounds. The girl winced in pain but didn't complain, not like she would or had the strength to do so. The Horner's were her lifeline in her troubling situation after all. No looking a gift horse in the mouth here. On the other end of the wagon, Jonathan tends to Jack listening to his boy's frustrated retelling of events all while noticing his son's eyes never straying away from what's going on on the other side. He couldn't understand why his son had gone from not having any interest in others to seemingly being responsible for this random girl he met. Not that he blamed him, his boy found himself a strong playmate, she had to be if she took all the abuse that she did and was still willing to be around their son.

“Can we keep her?”

Jack's voice pulls his father's attention.

“Come again?”

Jack sneers, not liking how he wasn't heard.

“I said...Can we keep her?”

Jonathan, for obvious reasons, is confused.

“Keep her?”

“It's not like anyone will know.”

Jonathan chuckles.

“I think it might be a little noticeable that we suddenly have an extra member in the family.”

Jack's glare increases.

“She's better off with us anyway.”

That much Jonathan couldn't disagree with. It was clear the girl had a bad home life and she struggled day to day. Still, this wasn't something like the boy found an animal and is asking to keep it like a pet. This is a child. Someone else's child. He can't just decide that...Not without talking to his wife at least.

“While you're not wrong, we can't just keep her.”

“What do you mean we can't?”

Jack's frustration is evident.

“I want her!”

That caught Jonathan off guard. He wasn't expecting that but it finally made things make a wee bit more sense. Jack is a Horner after all, and much like himself, it's in their blood to take what want when they can. Still, Jonathan figured he still had a few more years before Jack would do this. The boy hadn't hit puberty yet.

“Boy, I know you like her but...”

“Like her? Father, don't be dumb. I don't like her.”

Jonathan cocks his eyes.

“You don't like her? Heh. You sure could've fooled me.”

Jack crossed his arms, clearly frustrated by his father's response.

“Don't mock me! I don't like her.”

“Then why do you want her?”

“Because she's mine.”

Jack's anger flared up, and he clenched his fists.

“She belongs to me. I won't let anyone else have her.”

Jack's possessiveness takes Jonathan aback. He hadn't expected this level of attachment and determination from his son, especially when it came to another person. Yet, instead of being concerned with how wrong such thinking was for a youth to have, he finds a slight sense of pride warming his chest. He takes a moment to gather his thoughts before putting a hand on Jack's shoulder with a smile.

“My boy...I think it's time you and I talked. Father to son.”

#big jack horner #jack horner #little lynn #big jack horner x oc #big jack horner fanfic #jack horner fanfic #jack horner x oc #puss in boots the last wish oc #MY WISH WAS ALWAYS YOURS

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