#its howl castle medieval if that makes sense | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

folkloreguk · 3 years

Text

Gold Rush (optional bias)

A/N: I honestly don’t know a lot about the middle ages, so if anyone is a history genius, pls bare with me if I write something that doesn’t make sense asfghjk PS: feedback is greatly appreciated!!

genre: optional bias (male), thief!au, strangers to enemies to lovers, medieval!au, suggestive content, reader is always ready to fight lmao, a tiny bit of angst

summary: As thieves, you both try to steal from the same royal carriage. Only it doesn’t go as planned for either of you. Will you get away before the king sentences you both to death?

words: 8.9 k

You had been tailing the royal carriages for an entire day now. You were sure your horse was getting exhausted, but the sun was setting and you knew what that meant. Soon, the transport would come to a halt. They would find a clearing somewhere, with trees as shelter from all sides. Then, they would set up their camp for the night, only to pack up everything in the morning and travel another two or three days, until they reached their destination: the castle. Only instead of delivering the full carriages, with gold, silver, pearls and gems, a few handfuls would be missing. It would be almost nothing to them, you suspected. They might not even notice it disappeared.

To you, however, it meant existing. You had to admit, being a thief hadn’t been your first choice when it came to choosing an occupation for the rest of your life. You had tried to integrate into different businesses. You were going to learn to be a baker, a glover and even tried to keep a job helping out on a farm. But none of these professions were for you. You were tired of being commanded around by men who tried to make you their little maid or worse – ask you for your hand in marriage. The judgement was tedious. “Aren’t you too old to be unwed?” “Where is your husband?” “How many children do you have?”

You wished you could talk back. “No, I’m just fine, he doesn’t exist and none – is it any of your business, by the way?” But you had learned that arguing with elders would only get you in trouble, and perhaps your decision to refrain from living the typical life was exactly what made it impossible for you to keep a job. That was, until you discovered your talent – a sleight of hand that was invincible. Some would call it avaricious; you would prefer to describe it as a passion. It wasn’t evil, just a thrill you enjoyed chasing. The beginnings had been humble. A few coins out of someone’s pocket here and there, some food from an unsuspecting marketer; you had to keep yourself afloat somehow, right?

But the seasons went by, and you became more audacious and greedier for your beloved adrenaline. Plus, you realized that stealing from the rich had something weirdly rewarding. Maybe it was the anger you felt at the king for hoarding the wealth of the land whilst letting his people starve in the streets. Either way, stealing from those who had power made you feel a sense of benevolence. You gave away some of your stolen goods to those who actually needed them, instead of letting all the money and jewelry rot away in someone’s bag and around someone’s neck. Sometimes you hid in the shadows after your theft had been settled, only to see the reactions of your victims. It might have sounded obsessive, but it gave you assurance, when they moved on after only minutes of complaint, because you knew those few coins were miniscule to all of them.

And currently, you were on to one of your most reckless thefts. You were well aware this could get you killed. Yet you couldn’t help it, the glimmer of the jewels and the gold was hypnotizing. Finally, the carriages had come to a halt. From a safe distance, you observed how they unloaded their tents and checked especially carefully where they kept the most desired goods. The wares would stay in the carriages, probably guarded all night long. You would need to wait for the right moment.

“Good job today, my dearest Dorato,” you whispered to your horse as you tied the reins to a tree. Gently, you pat his nose. He pushed his head closer to you, demanding more affection, but your eyes were already on your objective. For at least an hour you stood, hidden in the thicket, waiting for the sun to set completely and some of the men to lay to sleep. With a hawk’s gaze you counted the men and made sure you knew each of their whereabouts. One of the wagons stood with its back opening facing you – which was perfect. It was like they were presenting the goods to you on a silver plate. To the left of the wagon, some of the men had lit a bonfire and were seated around it. Judging by their laughter and lively conversations, you doubted they would go to sleep soon. One of them was sitting on the edge of the carriage, meant to guard the inside. He, who should have been paying the most attention, however, was fast asleep. And that was your chance.

“Wish me luck, Dorato,” you whispered to your horse, running your hand over his warm neck. Then, you slowly moved towards the carriage. Outside the shielding cover of the trees, you felt you needed to act quickly. The gales of laughter were helping against your vulnerability in reminding you that the men around the fire were trusting their sleeping guard to have everything under his control. Sly as a fox, you kept your distance and approached the opening of the wagon only when the bonfire was out of sight. You pulled the fabric to the side and with a swift jump, you landed on the edge of the carriage right next to the dozed off man. It only took one maneuver and you had opened the wooden chest nearest to you.

You grinned in triumph at the jackpot in front of you. With eyes sparkling just as much as the diamonds and gems, you grabbed handfuls and transported them into your bag.

“Henry, change of shift!” someone suddenly shouted. Their voice sounded scarily close to you, and then you heard footsteps approaching. Even though you had wanted to be greedier and steal some more, this was definitely your cue to get out of there. If they saw you inside the wagon, you’d be done for. So, without second thought, you yanked the cover away and leaped off the edge.

“Thief!” the surprised man howled as you passed him. Luckily, this wasn’t the first quick escape you had ever had to make. Your feet carried you rapidly, over the grass and into the trees where your horse stood. One quick pull and the reins had come off the tree trunk.

“Over there!” a hoarse man growled. Now more voices were heard, curses and angry shouts directed your way.

“Let’s go, boy,” you said and hauled yourself into the saddle. You pushed your legs against his belly, quickly signaled your horse the way and he knew the drill already. He took off sprinting, out of the forest cover. The wind in your face momentarily forced your eyes to tear up a little and you squinted against the cool night air. But just as you thought you were getting onto the gravel road, one of the guards jumped out in front of you. The fire from the torch he was holding danced aggressively in the wind. As he pointed it high, it was a blaze against the darkness of the night sky, and Dorato whinnied in terror. He jumped and reared up, and you lost balance.

“Seize her!” a man shouted at your disoriented figure on the ground. You wanted nothing more than to get back on your feet and flee. But it was no use. You were surrounded by a number of gravely livid men, and should you try anything stupid now, it would cost you your life, probably. Somebody grabbed your shoulders and pulled you up.

“Take the horse,” one of them ordered and your eyes widened. If they hurt your best friend it was the last thing they would do, you swore in silence. But to your dismay, as the men dragged you over to the wagon, they ripped your quiver and your bow from your back. You sat still as they tied your hands and feet and hurled you into the very wagon you had just stolen from.

“There you have your gemstones,” a guard spoke. “Look at them as much as you want, because soon you won’t be looking at anything anymore.”

Giving him a gaze so spiteful it should have hurt him physically, you spit right into his face. Lucky for you, he wasn’t up for a fight. It wasn’t on him to convict you for anything just yet. A complacent smile spread on your face as he walked away, wiping your saliva out of his eyes. At least now you had a guaranteed roof over your head for the night.

You were in slight trouble, you had to admit that. In two days, you would arrive at the castle. Depending on what the king decided, your punishment could be as severe as death. But until then, it would be a while. There was still plenty of time to escape, you assured yourself.

All night long, no matter how much you forced your eyes shut, you didn’t catch a minute of sleep. The men’s chatter was simply too loud and maybe you were concerned for your safety, after all – even if you would have never confessed it to someone other than yourself. The heavy chests of luxurious items sat across and next to you, as if they were mocking you for your foolish actions. For hours you sat staring at them, cursing your greed. Only in the morning, when the carriages continued their journey, the rocking of the wagon lulled you into a slumber.

You awoke later that day. Judging by the dim light falling into the carriage, it must have been the early evening. Curious, you scooted to the edge, lifted the fabric that was covering your sight and checked. Your assumptions had been right. The golden sunlight of the last hour of daytime shone into your face. The wagon you were in was the last of them, behind you only the bright gravel and trees left and right. For a while you daydreamed the boredom away. You went into another world, in which you didn’t have to steal to survive. In your real life, you were either born into luxury or you had to toil each day for the rest of your existence. There was no hard work that could have transported you out of your peasant-state and into something more carefree.

Suddenly, shouts ripped you right out of your dreamworld. The wagon had halted, but when you looked out the back, nothing was there. Trying to learn what the commotion was all about, you concentrated on the chaos of voices. Had they all gotten into an argument? The men were all talking at the same time, so there was really no use but to wait and see.

“You will be delighted to have some company until you receive your sentence from the king,” a man said. Footsteps drew nearer. Someone pulled away the fabric at the end of the wagon. Before you knew it, a figure was pushed inside. It was a young man but clearly not one of the guards, as he was dressed like a peasant. With a groan, he was bracing himself up across from you.

“Enjoying the ride?” the guard outside the wagon taunted you with a sneering grin. You spat in his face. Again.

“You little-“ he snarled.

“Let’s go! We can’t lose any more time!” someone yelled and unknowingly saved you from more trouble. The man disappeared and the carriages began to move again.

You welcomed the newest addition to your wagon by staring him down like he was about to take all the gold and diamonds clearly reserved for you. When he had sat up and checked his surroundings, he noticed your look.

“Is there a problem or something on my face?” he asked.

“Were you trying to steal from them?” you asked back. “Didn’t go as planned, did it?”

“Were you not?” he replied. “My highness, we’re in the same situation, so don’t you try to aggravate me out of tediousness.”

“Don’t you mock me, or you’ll receive the same response as the guard did,” you threatened. “And you are very wrong. You are going to be brought to the castle and thrown into a prison. I will escape.”

“Is that so?” he asked. “I see you’re making great progress with getting out of these ropes. You better hurry, or I’ll get away before you do. I can carry a lot in my pockets.”

You huffed.

“The diamonds are mine,” you stated, matter-of-fact.

“Whoever gets out first will have them,” he replied. “I’m betting on myself.”

“God…could you not have chosen a different day to steal from the royals?” you asked, making it sound more like a statement than a question.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize it was your highness’ turn today,” he said, and his smile was taunting and cocky at the same time.

“I told you to stop calling me that!” you hissed, one second from collecting your saliva in your mouth.

“What do you prefer then?” he asked. His smirk made you wonder whether he was contemplating to suggest some more stupid pet names for you. He better not, you thought.

“I don’t know…what about my name?” you said. “It’s Y/N.”

“All right, Y/N,” he said. “And would you consider sitting on death row one of the more entertaining parts of your job? Are you used to it?”

If only looks could kill, he’d be torn to shreds.

“This is the first time I’ve ever been caught,” you said. “But judging by how lightly you’re taking this, you must spend more time in jail than outside of it.”

“What can I say? The guards love me,” he said. “But didn’t they teach you to be honest? I don’t believe you. Or maybe you were a coward for so long and this is your first time actually trying to steal. What’s the truth, sweetheart?”

There was nothing you despised like people who underestimated you. And with that, you spat in his face and turned away from him. Know-it-alls weren’t going to be granted a second of your attention.

“Hey, talk to me,” he said. “We’ll be here for another while, so we might as well become friends.”

“Missed your chance,” you said. And it was the last thing you said to him for a long time. Even when he tried so hard to lure you back into a conversation. You knew if you gave in, he’d never learn.

“My name is H/N, by the way. Oh, that’s right. You don’t care. I forgot,” he said. And he was right.

Having to rot away by yourself in the back of a carriage was already exhilarating enough. But rotting away in the back of a carriage while an irritating young man filled your head with stupid stories you could care less about? It made hell sound inviting. Even when the guards had set up their camp for the night, he occasionally tried to get you back into conversation. Because you had slept throughout the day, you knew you’d be awake until the early morning hours, a fact that only made your situation more unbearable.

Your ears picked up the crackling of the wood as the bonfire fed on it next to the wagon. Suddenly, a guard pulled aside the curtain. Without a word, he slid a plate with a piece of bread and a bowl with some water inside and left.

“This is going to be hard to eat with my hands on my back!” the young thief in front of you shouted, but the guard only laughed.

“Nice try,” you said, eyeing the food.

“Oh, she speaks after all,” he said. “And at least one of us is trying.”

“If I had one coin for every time you’ve provoked me since we met, I could buy my freedom,” you said. And again, he was in the wrong. Obviously, you had tried hard to figure out a way to get out of the restraints digging into your skin. If only you had a sharp object or –

“Are you gonna eat that?” he asked, pointing his head at the bread. He was willing to share, at least.

“I’ll bite off half and you get the other side,” you announced and bent your head down to the plate.

“Hey!” he exclaimed, shoving you out of the way so you tumbled onto your side with a huff of surprise.

“What the fuck is your issue?” you asked, regaining you posture.

“I’m taking the first bite,” he said. “I don’t know where your mouth has been.”

“I’ll show you where my mouth is,” you snapped. The next moment you tackled him, teeth digging into his shoulder. He groaned in pain, ferociously pushing you off him. His foot hit your thigh and you realized if you had any chance of getting away, an injured leg wouldn’t make it easier. So, you trudged away slightly.

“Are you out of your mind? Did you just really fucking bite me?” he growled.

“Go ahead, eat your damned bread,” you snarled. With a sulky sigh, you leaned back against the chest behind you, shut your eyes and tried to keep your fury in check.

You sat that way for an hour, maybe a few. With time, the roaring laughter from outside had died down. It must have been the middle of the night when you opened your eyes again. The silence let you conclude that your fellow captive had fallen asleep. Finally, you bent down to where you suspected the water bowl to be and took a few gulps. Only now you realized just how empty your stomach was. But your nose picked up something. Bread. In the darkness, you could hardly make out the half of the piece he had left for you. His humble act redacted your opinion of him from 100 to 98% dickhead. Like a starved animal, you gobbled the food. When you took your place against the chest once more, even you managed to snooze off into a much needed rest.

When the carriage steered through a pothole it shook you out of your slumber. Surprisingly, it was completely bright outside.

“You’re just on time,” the young thief across from you announced. “We’re about to arrive at the castle.”

He hadn’t woken you up. Maybe he had earned a few more sympathy points – with emphasis on a few. Only twenty minutes later, you were lead trough the cold halls of some dark part of the castle, down into the dungeon. While the guards dragged you around, even your loudmouth shut. This was new territory and made you slightly nervous. Were you going to make it out of here? So far, nothing was decided. You dearly prayed the king would be in a fantastic mood when he convicted you.

Your whole body was sore from the hours of sitting in the same position on the hard wood of the wagon, so you almost welcomed being shoved through the uninviting halls. One of the guards cut the remaining ropes from your hands, before pushing you into a cell. Much to your dismay, your fellow wagon inmate would also join you in this prison.

“The king will tend to you lowlives when he has time,” the guard said. The loud metallic clash of the prison bars closing and the lock sliding in place sounded like your demise. Your eyes followed the guard’s figure helplessly, until he had disappeared down the dark hallway. A slam of a door indicated that he was gone. Like a nervous animal, you paced from one wall to the other over and over. Your arms were crossed in front of your body and you were trying hard not to have a nervous breakdown. You needed your brain for more vital things right now – like contriving a plan to escape this hellhole before you could be sentenced to death.

“Would you sit down, goddammit!” the young man remarked. He was leaning against the back wall of the cell, eyeing you closely. “I need to think!”

“Do you think I don’t?” you replied. The moment of panic in your voice was short-lived, but he probably noticed it either way.

“I can’t focus if you’re losing it in front of me,” he said. “If you’re already processing your inevitable death, that’s cool with me. But I’m still planning on getting out of here, so please try to process in silence.”

Your nostrils flared in anger and you clenched your hands to fists by your sides.

“You idiot!” you said. “If you hadn’t done everything in your power to make me despise you right when we met, we could have tried to flee together.”

“Last time I checked, you were the one biting me for having a sense of personal hygiene,” he fired back. “We’re stuck in here. But get it together, we’re not on death row yet.”

In disbelief you stared at him, your irritation almost drowning out the restless pounding inside your head. He held his chin high as if to challenge you. And you could have gone for it. Down here in this cold, forlorn dungeon no one would hinder you from fighting each other. No, you knew for a fact that not a single soul in this castle gave one last damn about whether you lived or died. But you were completely drained. After all the sleep you had gotten, you should have been wide awake, and maybe your body was – but your mind was in the middle of shutting down. So, even though it hurt your pride, you stopped your uneasy walking and mirrored his behavior on another wall. Arms crossed and eyebrows furrowing, you kept your eyes on the ground. Maybe he was right. Giving up wasn’t characteristic for you, so why was your head spinning from dread?

In desperate search of some sort of hope, you caught glimpse of his rather relaxed stance. If he could keep up a calm front, maybe you could too. Luckily, he wasn’t looking at you, and not noticing how you drew strength from his so simple but enheartening behavior.

Three days into your stay in the dungeon, you had found a daily rhythm. Your mornings consisted of pretending to be asleep for as long as you possibly could, then holding yourself back from attacking your beloved cellmate because he couldn’t keep his mouth shut for more than five minutes. By midday your arguments had usually turned into playful bickering, because you couldn’t cope with being angry all the time. And frankly, you were bored. Even though standing his endless interrogations about your life was exhilarating, it was still better than losing sense of time and in the process also losing your sanity. Late, when darkness had fallen upon the land, a guard delivered a small ration of food for both of you. This was the part where your bickering morphed back into serious conflicts. If you were going to live on tiny amounts of food, you wouldn’t settle for the smaller ration of the two.

The fourth day was different. When you first reached consciousness, you heard nothing. Usually, he was already awake, noticing like a stalker when you awoke, only to tease you from the moment you woke up. But that day, you opened your eyes to a seemingly empty cell. Until you spotted him in the corner. His body was shaking, and his tiny, husky cough concerned you further.

“H/N?” you asked quietly. Considering the amount of loathing you’d thought you held for him, you sure worried an unnormal amount. But it wasn’t the mere thought of him being ill that concerned you most. It was the idea of having to suffer in the dark, murky dungeon all alone, day to day, until you’d have to face the king, who likely wanted you dead for your crimes. An ice-cold fear crept over you. You didn’t want to – no, you couldn’t – die lonely. Even if he was the last person you could have wished to be thrown into prison with, he was still company. This loathsome cell, the horrors of the near future, the neverending progression of time and the uncertainty that came with it – it all terrified you to the bone. Only now you realized just how much comfort he gave you, all by existing in the same space as you.

Carefully, you approached him. He wasn’t answering you, and he never not answered you. It was a heartbreaking sight. He was curled up in a fetal position, hands clenched to fists on his chest. A thin layer of sweat glistened on his forehead. Whether he liked it or not, you sat down with him. Gently, you reached for his forehead. A second was enough to determine he was burning up.

“Get off me,” he said, slapping your hand away. His voice was so frail.

“Hush. Let me help you,” you insisted. He huffed in annoyance.

“Are you a doctor when you’re not a thief?” he asked.

“No. But improving your mentality will help your body recover faster,” you said. “And you seem to be in a very negative headspace right now.”

His mouth opened to speak, but then a shiver rippled through his body and he wrapped his arms around his knees tightly. All this time, he hadn’t even opened his eyes.

“We need to keep you cool,” you said. “Take off your jacket.”

“This isn’t the time to ask me to take off my clothes,” he said, almost whispered.

“Will you just do as I say so you can get better? Do you want to die in here?” you said, brushing off his words. Something flashed across his face. Fear? Disappointment? Aware that it could invade his comfort zone, you very carefully took his hands. Lucky for you, he let you. When his jacket came off, you noticed the sweat stains that had formed on his thin shirt.

“You can lie down on this, it’ll be more comfortable,” you advised. Without arguing, he followed your instructions and allowed you to spread out the jacket underneath him. This behavior was new, you thought. But you could surely get used it. You knew it must have been serious, if he didn’t give you a silly remark for everything you said.

“I’ll get you more water,” you said, as you retrieved the almost empty water bowl from the center of the stone floor. Set on not spilling a drop, you lifted it to his lips and watched as he swallowed the last few sips. You used the sleeve of your shirt to wipe his wet hair out of his face, as he sunk back down onto the hard ground.

“Sleep now,” you said. You didn’t need to tell him twice. He had been almost unable to keep his eyelids open, so without hesitation, he drifted off into dreamland. For hours, you sat, hugging your knees to your chest, eyes on his anguished figure. Just as you had thought you could deal with the scary ordeal of being held captive in a castle dungeon, this had to happen. Stricken with sorrow, you waited for time to pass. If only you could have slept too, it would have made all the anxious thoughts go away. But someone had to look after him, and you weren’t tired.

His slumber must had been a hag-ridden one. Sometimes, he made small sounds, like whimpers, other times his brows furrowed, and his muscles flexed from whichever terror it was that haunted him in his head.

“Shh, you’re going to be okay,” you assured him, and maybe also yourself. But his tireless stirring only became worse, his body twisting and turning on the uneven ground. He groaned in agony, and your heart clenched like a million little daggers had slashed it.

“I’m here to keep you safe,” you whispered, bending down to his level. With utmost care, you lifted his head and let him rest in your lap. You weren’t really planning what was happening, but your hands found his hands. Softly, you stroked them, waiting for him to calm down and relax his tight fists. His mumbles and quiet moans of distress continued, until you realized. He was trying to tell you something.

“I can’t go like this,” he said.

“You’re not go-“ you started.

“No! My- parents need- me,” he stuttered. By now he was grasping your hands desperately. You sighed and his eyes opened ever so slightly. The anger he had held for you was vanished. You almost teared up at the delicateness of his gaze.

“I need to help them... they’re old and sick and can’t be alone,” he added in a small voice.

“We will get out of here,” you said. You had no idea when there had first been a ‘we’, but now there apparently was. “You have to be strong now, do you hear? Then you can meet your parents again.”

He was looking almost through you. His eyes were so dark, it was like staring right into the deepest part of the ocean. You stroked the back of his hand with your thumb, whilst trying hard to keep a hopeful gaze. For him, you had to appear strong. Or else, how else was he supposed to be?

“I’m sorry- I was such an asshole to you,” he suddenly confessed. “I thought you would steal away the gold before I could. And now look where that brought us.”

“This isn’t your fault. We were both being reckless,” you said. “I’m sorry I bit you. And threatened to spit on your face. And then spat on your face.”

The tiniest smile spread on his face. Success. Any sort of positive emotion could help him now.

“That wasn’t very nice,” he whispered. “I’ll think about whether I can forgive you. You must know, I’m very vindictive.”

His grin was playful, and his eyes were closed, as if he was on the brink of falling back to sleep.

“Forgiveness hurts less than holding a grudge for the rest of your life,” you said. Who knew? Maybe even the king could show remission. All you knew was that you would crumble, would you have to encounter the king alone. Your brain had set on the need for H/N. For years, you hadn’t formed any meaningful relationships – not counting your bond with your ardently loved horse. Now, with his head on your lap and your fingers intertwined with his, you ached for more. Was it really him you wanted? Or had you denied yourself of any affection for such a long time, the smallest contact with anyone appeased your yearning? Would you have felt the same, if it had been somebody else in his place?

At night, the metal noise of the door at the far end of the hallway outside your cell made you lift your head. Gently, so that H/N wouldn’t be awoken, you lifted his head to lay on the jacket instead of your thigh. In impatience, your foot tapped on the ground while you stood in the middle of the cell.

“Sir,” you called the guard with a fake-soft voice. “Will it be possible to receive another cup with water? My fellow inmate has fallen sick.”

The grumpy guard unlocked the metal bars, entering with the usual small ration of food and drink.

“What does it matter if he dies now or by command of the king? Do you think I care?” he growled, not sparing you a glance. You had been almost convinced this would have happened. So, you’d have to resort to different measures.

“Please-“ you begged, suddenly stepping towards the guard, who was on his way out of the cell. Without second thought, you threw yourself onto him, making sure to look extra-devastated and helpless. What could a weak, little young woman do to a guard, other than fall on her knees, right?

“Touch me once more and you’re dead, too, bitch!” he barked. One quick move of your skilled fingers and you eagerly backed off, hands hiding behind your back.

“Sorry, sir!” you said, lowering your head in false shame and guilt. “Please consider my request.”

All he gave you was a grunt of disapproval and he stomped out of the cell, the lock falling into place in a loud crash. Feigning inferiority and intimidation, you didn’t dare move until he was out of the dungeon. Then, you spun to the young man behind you on the ground.

“Open up,” you commanded, suspecting the shouting could not have kept him asleep. Finally, you could pull the flask you had stolen from the guard from behind your back. It seemed to be almost filled to the brim, too. Perfect. He did as he was told, and you let some of the water spill into his mouth.

“I take back what I said in the carriage,” he confessed. “Only full-time thieves have a sleight of hand like yours.”

“It was my pleasure proving you wrong,” you said. “Now, drink up.”

That night, you let him have the full ration of food. For at least ten minutes, he refused to have all of it. But you were stubborn and even though he hadn’t known you for long, he knew that much about you. If you wanted to escape with him, he would need to be fit to run. You had deemed your chances small to begin with, but in his state, you estimated them close to zero. After you had emptied the guard’s flask, you reached through the prison bars and tossed the item as far away from the cell as you could. He should never assume you’d had anything to do with its disappearance. The next day, a different guard would find it there, and bring it back to him under the assumption that he had carelessly dropped it.

Two days passed by. In the first night of the two, you had to comfort him through another few nightmares. During the day, he was sleepy, but had enough energy to have a little conversation with you now and then – something you read as a good sign. The second night, you were able to sleep all the way through, and when you checked his forehead in the morning, it had cooled down a little. On the second day, he had regained his strength enough to be able to sit, leaning against your shoulder.

“Will you stop moving? My head’s pounding,” he said.

“Your complaints make me wonder if you’re doing well now,” you asked, smirking.

“Like I said…my head’s killing me,” he repeated.

“Drink the rest of the water,” you suggested. “I think it’s almost evening. The guard will bring a new bowl soon.”

“It’s your turn to eat tonight,” he stated.

“We’re sharing,” you said. Lucky for him, he didn’t fight back. You wouldn’t have cooperated, either way.

“It’s time to make a plan now, if we want to get out of here. What do you say?” you asked. When he lifted his head, you looked over at him. The color was back in his face, the beads of sweat nonexistent and his cheeky smile bright as ever.

“I wonder…about what your little magic hands did to that guard’s flask…could they do the same with his keys?” he suggested. The way you mirrored his mischievous grin, he knew you agreed. But it would be trickier, this time. From days worth of observation, you had learned that the guards behaved differently. Some adamantly made sure the keys remained in their clenched fists – an instance you couldn’t work with at all – while others preferred to leave them in the lock by the door. You knew you’d never get close enough to even attempt to steal them from there. What you needed was the careless type of guard. The one who snuck the keys into their pockets or left them hanging on their clothes by the keyring. All it took now was to wait and hope the king would keep you locked away for long enough to give you a chance to flee.

That night, luck wasn’t on your side. The guard kept his hands on his keys as if they were his most precious possession.

“Do we really have to go over this again? I told you your pacing is driving me insane,” he said. It was midday of the following day, and you were deep in thought – or you had been – until he had to interrupt you.

“What do you expect me to do? We’re jailed like animals,” you countered. “I can’t stand around like you all day.”

When you saw him open his mouth, you read in his expression what he was about to do. It was his bickering face.

“If there’s one thing I’m not in the mood for currently, it’s getting lectured by you over nothing. Come up with a topic of conversation, please,” you said before he could speak. His smirk concerned you.

“What are you in the mood for, then?” he asked with raised eyebrows. Your death glare said more than a thousand words. “Fine, here’s a conversation topic…let me think…why are you not married?”

“Are you fucking kidding me,” you said in the most impassive tone you could muster.

“Oh, alright, if that’s not good enough, I’ll go back to flirting,” he said. The steps he was taking towards you made your brain activate fight mode.

“I’ve never met a man good enough for marriage,” you said.

“And what qualifies a man to be good enough for you?”

“Hm…where do I begin? I’m not a good cook, nor do I enjoy being a maid, nor do I know how to take care of children. Most men want those things in a woman.”

“You took pretty good care of me, didn’t you? But why waste your thieving talent on running a household?” he said.

“That’s where the issue lays. Men don’t favor women who sneak around the village at night and make their own money from being a criminal.”

“Nothing wrong with being a criminal,” he went on.

You laughed out loud.

“You know what? I like it this way. Why settle for staying with one man who might turn out to be a monster, when I can have them all for a night?” you said.

“Well, right now you’re not having anyone.”

“Seems like that’s bothering you more than it bothers me,” you replied in a feisty tone. If you didn’t call him out for the flirting, who would? Although you had to admit, you greatly preferred being courted to his unnerving teasing.

“Why would that bother me?” he asked. “You hate me, don’t you?”

He was right in front of you now, tilting his head and giving you a smirk that made you consider biting him again. And at the same time, something in your body – not your head – wanted to close the small distance between you two.

“If I hated you, I would have let you die,” you said.

“I assumed you kept me alive because you need me to get out of here.”

Now you had another reason to get up in his face. You gripped him by the collar, looking into his eyes.

“Excuse me? You think I wouldn’t be able to escape by myself? If you’re only trying to rile me up, you better let me know, because I already told you I can’t stand to be underestimated,” you said.

“Alright,” he rose his arms in defeat. “After your little stunt with the guard I’m actually pretty glad I have you in here with me. Honestly, I don’t think I’d get out without you.”

“Was that so hard to spit out?” you said, self-accomplished.

“No. But you only come close to me when you’re mad or worried,” he said. By now, his eye contact was captivating in the most confusing way possible. His eyes occasionally skipped to your lips. “And since I’m not sick anymore, I had to opt for the former.”

“You’re unbelievable,” you said. Unbelievably handsome, your brain added. And yes, maybe he was. Perhaps it wasn’t so much his beautiful face, but the way he spoke, understanding, even encouraging your lifestyle. You had just forced him to be honest with you. So, maybe it was time to stop holding back the truth from yourself, too.

“What are you going to do about it?” he asked. It’s time to give in, you told yourself. Therefore, rather than telling him, you showed him. With a sudden rush of hunger, your lips crashed against his. Momentarily, he seemed taken aback and let out a surprised groan. But within seconds he caught himself, hands grabbing your sides desperately. You thought addictions needed more time to develop, but the feeling of his mellow lips on yours already seemed like one to you.

You had never kissed anyone who had truly made you feel things. Now, your knees were weak in an instant when his tongue grazed yours only for a moment. After so much arguing, it was hard to believe your hands clasping the fabric of his shirt couldn’t be a product of you cursing him but derived from mere want. The way he claimed your mouth silenced even your most invasive thoughts. It was a serenity you had wished for ever since you had gotten caught a few days ago. A moment to breathe freely, make whichever noises you desired and be as close to him as you could.

You pulled him along, stumbling backwards until you hit the cold stone behind you. Being trapped in a dungeon was horrific – but being trapped between his body and the wall left you feeling safer than you had felt in a long, long time.

But the peace didn’t last long. You suddenly heard the all too familiar metal noise from the distance. Alarmed, you sprung apart. As the unexpecting guard walked down the dark hallway, you smoothed out your clothing hastily.

“Congratulations! Your time in here will be over. Tomorrow the king will see you,” the guard announced. You shot your fellow inmate an alerted gaze, which he returned. Silently, he nodded at you. It was time to do something. The guard was now opening the door, bringing inside your food. His key was in his hands – this was going to be an issue. He set the plate down in the front of the room, and was in the process of spinning around, when H/N spoke.

“Sir, may I attract you to a magic trick?” he asked the guard. “I have been practicing it for so long, and it would be a shame if I had to die before I could ever present it.”

“Go to hell,” the guard said.

“I have a coin here,” H/N added. The guard raised his head. “If you win, you get to keep it.”

“Give it to me,” the annoyed man said.

“That’s not how it works. First, I will need both of your hands,” H/N explained. You smiled slightly when the guard sighed. He complied, letting his keys disappear into his oversized pocket. Retrieving them would be child’s play for you.

“Stick up your hands ahead of you. And keep your eyes locked on the coin. Be quick, or you’ll lose it,” H/N said in his dramatic voice. As he lifted his own hand with the coin in it, the guard followed and looked upwards. This was your time. Like a cat, you tip-toed around the guard’s back, not even paying attention to what H/N was doing anymore. Ever so swiftly, your hand slid into his pocket, fingers closing around the chill metal. As quickly as you had approached him, you stepped away, the key sliding into your sleeve and out of sight.

“Incorrect!” H/N called. “But you know what? I will grant you the coin either way. By tomorrow, I might not need it any longer.”

The guard even went so far as to laugh – even if it was a gloating sort of laughter. The only thing left to do now was hope he wouldn’t discover his missing key. But luck was on your side. Without another word, the man stepped out of the cell, shut the door, and walked off. The tune he whistled became smaller and smaller, until it faded out completely.

“Guess who’s getting out of here?” you asked, triumphantly revealing the key.

“You did it!” he exclaimed. You weren’t sure whether it was a spur of the moment decision, or maybe he was just too ecstatic to stop himself, but he flung his arms around your frame and squeezed you tightly.

“Hey, hey, you can’t crush me so close to my escape,” you laughed.

“Our escape,” he smiled. “We need to act fast. He could notice the missing key any second.”

Nodding eagerly, you grabbed half of the bread and downed half of the water bowl. You weren’t going to leave that behind. After all, you never knew when your next meal would be.

“If we make it to the stables, we can get a horse,” he announced. “I saw them on our way here. They’re to the west. The sun should be setting now, if my sense of time is still correct. Let’s hurry, or else we’ll be out of directions.”

“Dorato!” you exclaimed. “They took my horse!”

“The black horse that was tied to the carriage when we came here? I saw him,” he noted. You nodded, swearing you would leave here without Dorato only over your dead body.

Ten minutes later you had successfully exited the cell and approached the door at the end of the hallway.

“Out there it’s on both of us to keep running, okay?” you whispered.

He only nodded. “Towards the setting sun.”

The second you had slipped past the door you were spotted by a maid.

“Prisoners!” she yelled. Your plan to slip away unnoticed had gone down the drain quickly. With one last glance at the young man next to you, you both took off. The way out of the castle was still burned into your brain from when you had been brought inside. Back then, you had already planned to get out, so you had payed an extra amount of attention. When you reached a turn, you barely had time to think about the right way. By now, two guards were after you and you were forced to trust your intuition. H/N was a little ahead of you. The sudden exercise after being refined to a tiny cell for so long made your chest burn in exhaustion after only such a short while. But the adrenaline drowned it all out easily.

You knew you had to be close to the outside, it was a feeling. But then, all of a sudden, a guard cut off your path in front of you. H/N was racing far ahead, so that he could get away. You, on the other hand, had no time to overthink your actions. Before the guard could catch you, you had ducked under his outstretched arms. Now, sprinting down an unfamiliar corridor over the marble flooring, your sense of direction was gone, but your will to survive vigorous as ever.

For minutes you ran, collecting a horde of guards behind you the longer you kept going. When you turned a corner, you were greeted by another long corridor. Only this time, it was a dead end. Nevertheless, you kept up the speed. What else could you have done? By now, your calves felt like they were on fire, breath coming in short gasps. You suddenly took notice of the precious paintings and statues that adorned the hallway. Maybe this was the answer.

Without slowing down, you took hold of a stone vase. Just for a moment, you gathered all your might. Then, you dashed it forward, against the window at the very end of the corridor. Your body followed shortly after, but it was enough time for the glass to shatter before you. In a protective manner, you folded your arms over your chest and shut your eyes tightly as your figure flew through the opening.

When you had passed the window, your eyes opened, and you ducked. Soft grass caught your body as you rolled onto the ground. The impact knocked the air out of your lungs momentarily. But within seconds you were back on your feet. Aggressive shouts from behind you only motivated you to keep going. Faster. Just a little longer. Dawn had broken in, but the sky was still a bright blue to your left. That’s where you were headed. A market place close by acted as the perfect cover for a while. You barely had time to watch out, crashing into people’s shoulders and knocking over bowls and baskets. An enraged shout followed you, but you were already far gone.

And he had been right. Your nose picked up the scent of hay and animals. You had to be close. What if he wasn’t there? What if they caught you again? A short panic bubbled up inside of you. Stealing might could have been forgiven, but for your current deeds no king would let you live. The wooden stables were in sight by now.

You could barely breathe anymore, but something inside of you kept you up and going nonetheless. Every breath burned as you entered, stalls of horses and other animals to your left and right. But no sight of H/N. Nor of your horse. Did he leave without you? Had he assumed you had been caught and tried to save his own life, at least? Your head spun as you scanned the animals one last time. Then, the men’s deep shouts caught up with you. You needed to get out, or else this stable would turn into a trap.

When your feet hit the cobblestone outside, you spotted the mob of angered men and women coming at you. They were holding spears, torches and pitchforks and were livid.

“Y/N!” someone suddenly yelled from your right. The sound of his voice had never sounded better to you. He was on your horse, careering towards you. One last look at the furious crowd of peasants and guards, and then you only focused on him. Only a little more strength, and you could get out of here.

The second he was close enough to you, you started running again. Like you had done so many times, you hauled yourself onto Dorato behind him. Your hands caught his shirt and you pulled your body flush against him. You needed no words. Now, you only needed to trust your horse to get you out of here. Just for a moment, you closed your eyes in exhaustion and took a few, consciously deep breaths. In lightning speed, you raced across the grass and towards the archway out of the courtyard.

And you made it. He shouted in a boisterous tone, and while at first you laughed, you couldn’t help but join his happiness loudly.

~2 months later~

The rough bark of the tree was digging into your back, but you couldn’t have cared less. Not when he was all over you. Not when his scent was so intoxicating, and his busy hands made you forget about any other sensation on your skin. It took no time. You had escaped together, thinking it was your time to part ways after what you had gone through with him. Now, each day you hung on his every word and couldn’t even bear to be away from him for minutes at a time.

Not far from you, your two horses stood, grazing on the grass by their feet. Meanwhile, the two of you, supposed to be on the lookout for your next target, had found another occupation in the cover of the trees. The market close by wasn’t exactly your goal – it was the nobles who would arrive in their carriages like every weekend to spend time by the beautiful lake. While they had their picnics and gossiped about each other, there was enough time for you two check for some gifts to retrieve from their carriages.

You sighed happily as he kissed your neck ever so softly. In him, you hadn’t just found a partner in crime. He was your muse, your comfort and your home. His family was your new family and finally, you had someone to tell all your most unbridles stories and dreams to – someone who could actually reply, with no offense to your horse. Going out stealing was as exciting as hiding between the sheets with him. In such a short time, he had learned to read your face and knew every curve of your body like it was a part of himself, and you had no problem with that.

Suddenly, he pulled away. He looked over your shoulder, gaze changing from tranquil to fierce.

“There they come,” he announced. That moment, you heard the sounds too. Hooves and the crunch of gravel under wheels. Smiling in excitement, you turned to check the situation as well. But you had to be honest, he was much more entertaining to look at. Like in so many cases, you found yourself tied to his gorgeous features and the way his jaw clenched when he was plotting.

“Eyes on the prize, sweetheart,” he said, not peeling his look from the carriages.

“Don’t you know, I’ve already won the best prize there is in the world?” you asked, hearts in your eyes and a cheeky smile on your face.

203 notes · View notes

shewhowantsmouseears · 6 years

Text

yandere magicstone/badstone AU

Well, the people demanded, so here it is. Went for a first person POV, as I felt it suited the piece best. Takes place in a fantasy AU like medieval england and such. It’s pretty dark, but I hope someone likes it.

All eyes turned toward me as I walked inside, and I resisted the urge to slam the door behind me to draw further attention. Of course everyone was looking at me, that was part of the luck. Their interest would spark, eager gossip would begin, and soon the favors would pile up. Usually I'd soak at all, but after what I'd just seen, after what I just witnessed, I wanted to be left alone.

But this was the only place in the village with decent ale.

I took a seat in the corner, hoping that the space I'd chosen would signal others to back off. I only had to wait three seconds before I heard a startled employee declare “We have to use how much by the end of the month?! That's insane! Just... start handing out free drinks, we'll figure it out later.” After that, I silently waved a man down, and only said, “Your strongest.”

It was difficult to ignore the talk all around me and all about me, and eventually I couldn't.

“My my, who's the handsome fellow all by himself?”

“You don't know? You must be new around these parts. Fellow's Gladstone Gander, luckiest man to have ever lived!”

“I'll say – I once saw him fetch a whole diamond out of the river when he was just looking for a pebble to skip!”

“They say he was born lucky. His entire village was destroyed by witches – and he was the sole survivor!”

“No! You're serious?”

“Wiped off the entire map, for sure. I hear he's part fae – explains all his good fortune.”

The fae part was new, and I snorted hard, considering the irony of what I knew. My drink came fast, and I downed the entire glass in one gulp before demanding another. Tasted like swill, compared to the stuff I've tasted in the liar of the witches. But I couldn't go back there. Not now. Not like this. I needed time to think.

“Oooh, Gladstone!” A melodic voice strolled up beside me, some woman whose name I've long since forgotten, they all blend together after a while. “I was just thinking about you. My husband is out of town, y'know, and I was thinking-”

“Leave me alone.” I was in no mood.

Girl was as dumb as she was pretty. “Awww, honey, what's the matter? Let me-”

As she tried to touch my shoulder, I grabbed her by the wrist, fingers digging in deep. “I said... leave me alone.” She looked like she saw death itself replace my features, and when I let go, she scrambled away as fast as she could. The chatter around me slammed to a halt, as none of them had ever seen me lose my temper before. After all, why should the world's luckiest man be angry about anything?

I looked down into my empty glass, seeing my blurry reflection look back at me. I wonder... if I knew back then what I would have endured, would I still have gone through with the deal that took my soul?

To start with, I was not born lucky. If anything, I was lucky to be born at all. The man who is by all technical means my father hit the road the second he realized he wasn't going to get a dime out of my great-uncle's fortune. What did he care that he'd leave an unwed mother to be ostracized by her peers? My mother, proud idiot of a woman, refused to take charity. Because of that, I was raised in a dingy little cabin with rags for clothing and nights without supper.

It's true, Scrooge McDuck was so rich beyond imagination that he even owned a castle atop a hill, with some of his closest relatives living with him. If my mother had simply taken me and moved, maybe the old man would've taken us in. But, no, this was our home, she'd say, with a smile on her face as she chopped firewood with tired, aching hands. “If you keep taking from people, you'll never learn how to give.” She'd tell me, tenderly running her fingers through my golden hair. “Chin up, my love, good luck is just around the corner.”

If it was around the corner, it never felt like coming over. The elders would glare at us as we passed, whispering words of shame and humiliation. Housewives would give us sympathy and offer their aide, but the moment our backs were turned, laughed at our poverty and were thankful they weren't in our shoes. One memory sticks out to me now – mother managing to save what little coin we had to buy me a small teddy bear. It was a hideous thing, but it was all I have, so I loved it to death, carrying it everywhere. It was my only friend.

I was playing near the lake, imagining a grand quest with knights and dragons, when I was shoved from behind into the water. When I got up, there stood a rabble of boys, the leader was the son of our village head. “Look, everyone, Gladdy's a mermaid!” They laughed.

I kept my mouth shut, knowing by now anything I said could be twisted into further embarrassment. I tried to stand up, clutching my bear to my chest, and that's when one boy said, “Look at that ugly teddy! It's Gladdy's twin brother!”

The leader squinted, then nodded in approval. “I want it. Give it here, Gladdy.”

Startled, I finally spoke. “What? No! This is mine! Mama bought it for me.”

“I said give it,” the boy demanded again. “I want it, so give it to me.”

“No!” I tried to make a run for it, but I slipped on the mud and fell face-first, making the small crowd howl with laughter. The leader wretched the toy from my fingers, despite my begging and pleading. “Why? Why are you doing this?”

He tilted his head, puzzled at such an inquiry. “Because I want it, stupid Gladdy.” It was a child's logic, but thinking on it now, it's one that many adults also carry. “It's your own fault for not giving it to me. You should just shut up and die.” He kicked me in the ribs, and with his prize, walked off with his friends. I laid there for a while, crying and hating him and myself and the whole world. When I finally got up and told my mother, she promised she'd get it back, and went to talk to the boy's mother.

It went about as well as can be expected.

“Are you calling my boy a thief?”

“I – I didn't say that, exactly, it's just, my son-”

“I don't know what kind of brat you're raising but my child knows better than to steal!”

“Please, if we could just have the teddy...”

“Get off my property! You ever say another thing about my baby, I'll have them toss you behind bars!”

One promise broken, one of many, and my mother held me close to her chest, saying once more, “Chin up, my love, good luck is just around the corner.”

Well, when was it getting here?! Many similar thefts occurred, every time I acquired something decent, such as a pair of nice shoes or an apple I plucked from the orchard. It was if the village believed we didn't deserve anything at all. The only time I knew peace were two occasions.

One was the visit from distant relatives – my cousins Donald and Della, and their parents. One look at them and you knew they were better off, with proper clothes and no bags under their eyes or thin ribs poking out. Once every few months, they'd come to say hello, drop off a few treats, tell us of Scrooge's latest acquisition. The twins and I would play in the meadow, with Della warning us to stay away from fairy rings and Donald using twigs as knightly swords. The entire village would put on fake smiles and treat us like royalty – no doubt terrified that if Scrooge knew the truth, he'd make them suffer for it. But mother wouldn't tell our family the truth, insisting things would work out, one way or another. But the moment they were gone, we were scorned once again, a fresh heap of mud thrown at my face.

The other place that gave me respite was the church. Not too many people believed in the gods those days, but even so, they were hesitant to give me trouble behind the stone walls. The father wasn't exactly kind, but he didn't give me any lip or condemn my existence, so he was better than most. It was said that within the church laid a sacred treasure, and one day, it was my birthday, one I shared with my mother, merely out of curiosity's sake, I asked the father what it was..

“It is our protection,” he said, closing the holy book after another sermon to no one. “Centuries ago, this land was a host for witches.” He paused here, seeing my look of disbelief. I was an older boy by then, eighteen, and the idea of fairies and witches was ludicrous, especially an adult believing in them. “Aye, it's true. For millennia, they have been at war with the mystic fae, and we mortals paid the price. But one of our ancestors managed to find one of the witches relics, and sealed it up locking away its power. Then we had the entire land blessed in water from the fae, and kept them out. To this day, that is why no witch can come to our land to take their revenge.”

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. But the day he told me that story was really when everything started to fall apart – or, come together, if you look at it another way. I opted to leave sooner than usual, not wanting to catch the father's insanity. As a result, I came home earlier than my mother expected. As I approached the front door, I hear the sound of something breaking, and paused. Mother was usually extremely careful with our possessions, given that we had so few of them to begin with.

“Who does he think he is?” My mother's voice no longer had that glint of hope and honey. Instead, it was slurred with drink. “Saddling me with this useless child! Gods above, I get no peace! Not even on my own day of birth, I have to be reminded of him! Whatever did I do to deserve this? I'd have been better off selling the babe! Wretched thing with his father's eyes. That boy is nothing but bad luck!”

I stood there for a long time, listening to my mother's true feelings, and for some reason I felt no surprise. Perhaps for some time I had sensed she was wearing a mask, using it to conceal her utter hatred at me and herself. Well then... what was the point of staying here any longer? If an entire village wanted me gone, then, so be it. I waited until the “usual” time I should've been home, and my mother greeted me with a false smile, asking how the church was. I said nothing, and she didn't press further.

That night I stole what was left our money and headed out. It was her own fault for having me. I headed to the very outskirts of the village, unsure where to go and what to do. Anywhere had to be better than here. I wasn't paying attention to my surroundings, but I suppose it wouldn't have mattered if I saw them coming – the next thing I knew I was being slammed against a tree, a hand to my throat. “Lovely night for a walk, eh?”

Just my luck to be accosted by three beagle-faced bandits. One kept his hold on me, a second picked my pockets, and the third was picking his teeth with a knife. “I don't believe this,” the second one, the shortest, grumbled. “This'll barely get us a drink at the pub!”

“Maybe we can chop off his hair and sell it.” The third, the tallest, offered.

“Maybe we can chop off his head and sell it.” The first one suggested, and it was difficult to tell if he was joking or not.

“Please,” I begged, legs kicking out, unsure to who I was pleading to. “Take my money, just let me go! I won't tell a soul, just let me go!”

“Sorry, you've already seen us,” The third one handed the knife to his brother. “Maybe in the next life, you won't have such rotten luck.”

The first beagle raised his knife, ready to end things, and for a brief moment, I almost welcomed it. But, at last, at long last, I had a spot of good fortune, in the most unusual of places.

“What in all blazes is that?” The short one suddenly said, pointing off into the distance.

All heads turned, mine included. It was difficult to see at first, but then the clouds parted, and bright moonlight shone down on the dark carriage making its way along the dirt road. Carriages weren't rare, but this one was black and red, curtains hung low to make sure no one could see inside, and even the horses were darkly colored, their eyes gleaming demonic colors. Alongside the carriage were two riders atop their steeds, covered in robes that hid their bodies, save for a featureless white mask on their faces. It was an odd sight, to be sure. The carriage didn't even have a driver! How were the horses to know where to go?

“Forget this lump,” the shortest one declared, “Whoever's in there has to be stinking rich! Hurry up!” I was dropped like a hot potato, and the three eagerly raced to the carriage, dropping my coins and scattering them on the ground.

I sat up dizzily, but instead of picking up my money, I watched in stupefied awe. The riders were thrown off their horses, but they didn't offer any resistance, nor make any sound. All the horses came to a silent stop, standing so rigidly they didn't even appear to be breathing. The short one was the leader, and he threw open the door. “All right, hand over everything you've got, and-”

That was all he got out before there was a crackle of lightning – but not from the sky. It came from within the carriage itself, stabbing the man in the chest, and sent him flying. When he landed, his chest was still smoking. The eldest brother cried out in horror, running to fetch the fallen. The cloaked riders now began to stand up, and held out their arms, murmuring in an tongue I couldn't understand. The earth shook, and the roots of the trees sprang up from the ground, entangling the beagles and muffling their screams.

I didn't know if they were dying. Can't say that I cared. All I knew was what I witnessed wasn't mortal, and whatever these people were, they were more powerful than anyone could fathom. They could only be one thing.

“Witches!” I breathed, before getting to my feet. “You're witches, aren't you?”

The masked ones glanced in my direction, but then ignored me, going back to their horses. The carriage door began to close, but I ran ahead, flailing my lanky arms and shouting as loudly as I could. “Wait, wait! I can help you! I can – I can – I can get you back your relic! The one inside the village, I'll give it to you!”

Looking back on it now, it's a little amazing how fast the idea how came to me. How little hesitance I had. But if I didn't act then, I'd lose the chance forever. The masked ones stayed silent, but then I heard movement within the carriage. The door swung open quietly, and the woman inside, the one who had cast the lightning, stepped out.

She was the most beautiful creature I'd ever seen. Even now, I don't think the right words have been invented to accurately describe her. Not that flowing raven hair with streaks of violet, the alluring yellow cat-like eyes, a body so sleek and slim it was almost hypnotic. At the time, she was a good head taller than I was, and only when I felt the wind on my tongue did I realize my jaw had dropped. I quickly shut my mouth, feeling my entire face redden. In one of her hands was a staff with a round orb atop, and she lightly strummed her fingers on it, studying me, analyzing me.

“And here I thought this was going to be a dull night,” she mused, a sensuous voice that felt like a snake slithering all around me. “What is your wish, boy?”

“My wish?” I repeated foolishly, still starstruck by the goddess in front of me, and having completely forgotten what I said in the first place.

“I sincerely doubt you're going to hand over your village's priceless treasure for nothing.” She raised an eyebrow. “So, tell me. What wish shall I grant in exchange for the relic? If it is within my power, I give you my word I will grant it... so long as I get what I desire.”

What I wanted? I tried to think. Money would be nice, but all money could be spent eventually. My bed to be warmed with beautiful women? A nice thought, but not something I could do all day. My mind raced, trying to think of a wish that wouldn't run out, a wish I could enjoy, a wish that would make life worth living – and then I remembered dear mother's words.

Chin up, my love, good luck is just around the corner.

“Luck.” I said, my heart racing. “If I give you relic, I want you to make me lucky for the rest of my life. Ever since I was born, I've known nothing but misfortune and misery... so make it that I never know them again! Make it so I never have to work, never have to plead to anyone ever again!” With each word I said, my voice became angrier, my fists clenched, and I knew this was a wish I was entitled to.

The witch's eyes widened, and she rubbed her lips with her thumb, mulling. “What you ask is most bizarre... I've never heard of magic capable of such things.”

I swallowed. “Does that mean you can't do it?”

She chuckled, and then I felt her fingers under my chin, cold as ice and yet I didn't want it to stop. “Oh, I never said that. It will merely require some time, and a lot of creativity on my part. Give me your name, boy.”

“Gladstone.” And I kept it at that. If I didn't have a father, and I didn't want my mother, what good was a last name?

She accepted this. “Very well, servant. When the full moon once again touches the skies, I will return. You have until then to get the relic. If you free it, I will grant your wish.” Her fingers moved down, and a shock went through my nerves, before I found her thumb pressed to my throat. “However... if you dare try to trick or lie to me, I will find a way to make your every waking second sheer torture.”

I didn't think my life could get much worse than it already was, but at the same time I didn't doubt her ability. “I give you my word, my lady.”

She laughed at that, pulling her hand away. “Lady! That's a new one.” She then waved to the masks, who climbed atop their horses. She stepped back in the carriage – it was so dark inside I could only make out her captivating eyes. A part of me wanted to jump inside the carriage. “Don't disappoint me, servant.”

The door closed, and they were off. Once I could no longer see the carriage in the horizon, I slowly picked up the coins that had been dropped, and walked back into the village. As tempting as it was to think the whole thing was a dream, I'd been given an opportunity and I wasn't going to waste it. The full moon was one month away, and I needed to get to work.

I put my mother's money back where it belonged and she never suspected a thing. I then went to the church, and begged the father to work there, telling myself this would be the last time I ever begged to anyone. He conceded, and I started by sweeping the floors and cleaning the windows. I stayed in the church for as long as I was allowed, even eating my meals and sometimes sleeping there. I played the part of a loyal follower, and the father's wrinkled face became less pensive around me. My devotion to the gods touched some part of him, and there were days he came to me with a fresh loaf of bread, an appreciative pat on the back, even a rare smile.

“I'm glad you could find your serenity here,” he once said, when he bought me a new pair of shoes, noted how scuffed mine were. “The gods will reward your work... and if they're busy, I will.” He weaved me tales of battles between fae and witch, of their ruling queens and the differences of their magics. He offered to let me read a sermon to the suffering townsfolk, and slipped an extra coin in my pocket when I wasn't looking.

The night of the full moon, I asked to see the relic.

He hesitated initially, but relented easily enough, taking me down into the cellar past three locked doors. There it stood on an altar – a large white marble with black cracks formed around it. “This is our village's protection,” he said, allowing me to step forward to see it better. “I am getting old, Gladstone. Someday, it will need a new man to protect it. I believe you are that man.”

I looked at him, then I looked at the marble, and thought about my wish, and what it really meant, and what it would cost.

I grabbed it and bashed the old man's skull with it.

I then ran outside of the church, it had started raining. I didn't get very far before I slipped in the mud, and for a split second I was back in my childhood with the mocking children who stole my teddy, my most precious thing in the world, and here I was, doing the same. And I didn't care. I sat up, and saw that my landing space was next to some well-timed sharp rocks. I lifted the marble – apparently I didn't hit the old man as hard as I thought, as in the distance I could hear him calling my name – and I began to smash it over and over and over again.

It took five times before it finally split apart in two perfect halves. Inside was a tiny piece of silver, no bigger than a fingernail. The white marble began to dissolve, and the rain stopped. I looked up, and saw that the black clouds were suddenly swirling around together, faster than they should've been able to do, and then the darkness made its way toward the ground, turning into a flurry of bats and spiders, and with one loud, awful, cracking sound, the blackness exploded, and there stood the witch.

She wasn't alone – the masked ones were there as well, but so were old hags, gorgeous young women, deranged men, cackling children, witches and warlocks of all shapes and sizes. Villagers opened their doors and windows to see what all the noise was, and their gasps of surprise turned into screams of panic. The witch - my witch, my savior – calmly walked towards me, and picked up the piece of silver. “Good to have you back.” she said to it, then nodded once to her followers.

They suddenly began attacking the villagers, shoving them down into the dirt, restraining them, and injuring those who put up a fight. Houses were being burned, and stolen goods were being tossed together. I remembered who I was and what I was doing, and tried to get to my feet. “My wish!” I demanded, “I gave you what you wanted, now give me my wish!”

One of the elder witches smacked me upside the head with her wooden staff. “Show some respect, mortal! One your knees! You dare speak to the queen herself?”

I blinked once, blinked twice, blinked three times before I understood, and the queen chuckled, waving a dismissive hand. “Come now, how do you expect them to know?” She enjoyed my surprise, and made an overly-theatrical bow. “I am Magica De Spell, Queen of the Covenant. And worry not, I shall grant you your wish, a luck that will last your eternal life. However...” She held up a finger, delaying my joy. “This is a magic that will require much more than the relic. A lucky life lasts longer than an unlucky one... to ensure this lasts you all of your life, I must be able to keep watch over you always. You will give me your heart, your soul, your name, all of it in service to me. You will be my servant until your last breath is drawn. As for where this luck will come from...”

She then gestured all around her, to the fire and destruction and death she had brought forth. “You will take the luck that every single villager here has, and every bit of luck they would have had in the future. You will trade their lives for yours.” She then held out her hand, waiting for me. “Do we have a deal?”

I stared at her hand, and in what had to be the timing of bad luck, I heard the cries of my mother. There she was, captured by a pair of identical twins who were having fun with her hair. “Gladstone! Help me!” She screamed, trying to reach for me. “Please! I'm your mother, help me! HELP ME, DAMN YOU!”

I watched her, and smiled.

“Tough luck, mother.” I took Magica's hand. It was still cold, so unnaturally cold, and if it was up to me, I never would have let her go.

Her fingernails pierced my skin, and she closed her eyes, colors beginning to swirl all around us.

“I take thy name, I take thy soul,

By my hand you live, by my hand you grow old,

From lady's luck you shall always drink,

I case thee now – THE SIGN OF THE TRIPLE DISTELFINK!”

I thought I saw three birds of beautiful plumage arise from the smog around us, but they were snakes, and the plunged their sharp fangs into my skin, and I felt poison in my veins, so blazing hot I thought I would melt, but despite all the pain I felt, I kept my eyes open as long as I could so I could see Magica, Magica, my Magica.

But I blacked out.

When I woke up, the sun was out, and the village was gone. There wasn't even a single blade of grass to be found. It was as if nothing had ever existed here. I laid there for a moment or two, and then got up. Where was I supposed to start my new life? I still wore only rags, still had no money to my name. I frowned, and then walked, back to the outskirts where everything had started. When would my luck begin?

Turns out, it didn't take very long. I found myself back at the place where I had been robbed – and found two of the same robbers again, this time threatening an older man and a pretty red-head. The third wasn't there – perhaps dead, for all I knew. The girl was weeping, the father trying to protect her, and I felt an urge to sneeze.

The beagles looked up, and saw me – they recognized me, and apparently I was synonymous with that horrifying night, as one look was all it took for them to flee in fright. The victims were as surprised as I were, and the girl broke into relieved tears. “Oh, you saved us!”

“I did?” I asked, because it sure didn't seem that way to me.

“You have my gratitude, dear boy!” The man said, taking my had and shaking it vigorously.

“He must be rewarded, Papa!” The girl insisted.

“I couldn't agree more, Lulubelle. What do you want, grand hero of ours?”

Unused to such praise, I scratched my head. “Ah... well, I just wanted to get to the next village.”

The old man was surprised. “Why, we were just on our way there ourselves! What a fine coincidence. Come, you'll ride with us.” Their carriage wasn't too far away, plush and overly decorative. Once I was inside, they overwhelmed me with thanks again, Lulubelle snuggling up to my arm. I was so stunned I just let them keep talking, not saying much myself.

The next village over was a farming community, and as it turned out, the old man was wealthy, his daughter single, and the town generous. I was rewarded with a new wardrobe, and a place to stay in his lofty mansion. Rumors spread about my heroism, and is the way of passing words, became exaggerated into full-blown lies. I saw no reason to correct them. For the next few days, I enjoyed life more than the years I ever had at home. Wherever I went, fortune followed. Finding money on the ground, shopkeepers finding themselves with extra wares, the weather perfect wherever I napped. I never lifted a finger, never broke a sweat. Lulubelle's father offered me a job sorting out his paperwork, and Lulubelle herself offered sweet kisses and tender embraces. Any ordinary man would have stayed here and lived comfortably for the rest of their natural existence.

But I wasn't ordinary, and I was soon reminded of that.

One week after I arrived, I was changing into my nightrobes and ready to settle into sleep, and I took a last glance at the mirror – only to see Magica's reflection instead. I nearly jumped out of my skin. “What the-?!”

“I have need of you, servant.” She said, ignoring my startled outburst.

“But... I gave you the relic,” I replied, looking around to make sure the door was closed. “Wasn't that our deal?”

“Did you already forget the fine print?” She asked, crossing her arms in annoyance. “The relic was for giving you good luck. Keeping it means you work for me.”

I slowly sat on the bed, recalling what it was she told me. “How do I do that, exactly?” I was torn – afraid of what she would ask of me, pleased that I was a part of her. I felt that if she asked me to carve out my own heart for her, I'd do it right away. “Is there another ancient witch tool you need to find?”

“Hardly anything so complicated. I just need you to kill the man of the house.”

I felt the very earth sink underneath me. I tried to parrot the question back to her, but found no voice. After a few attempts, I made a guess. “And... if I don't... my luck is gone.”

She snapped her fingers. “Just like that.” Her hand slid out of the mirror, and dropped a violet knife on the night table. I felt fear within my bones. The old man had never done me harm, and Lulubelle was pure as fresh silk. And now I was expected to ruin them both. “Once the deed is done, fetch me proof of his dead. Then go to the forest, and mark a tree with this knife.” Is this how the rest of my life would be? Betraying anyone who showed me a drop of kindness? I almost denied her. “It will allow you to come to me whenever you wish.”

All my doubts and hesitation vanished with one sentence. “Whenever... I wish?” I felt a delirious grin come across my mouth. I could see her whenever I wanted? I could gaze upon her beauty when I needed it? Now that I was gifted to have whatever I wanted, it became an insatiable lust. All my wants had been granted – and I wanted her, wanted her, wanted her so badly I could scream. Every night I spent with Lulubelle I saw Magica instead, felt her cold skin mesh with me, and every dream had those cat-eyes gaze into me.

“It would do me no good if my servant couldn't reach me.” She replied. “You have your orders.” And she was gone.

I stood up, and picked up the knife, twisting it in my hand. It seemed ordinary, save for the odd color. I had never taken a life before, never even killed an animal. I had hit the priest, but it was to get him out of the way. Then again, I hadn't much cared whether he died or lived. Would it be the same to the man who was practically grooming me to be his future son-in-law?

In short, yes. Yes it was. How unlucky for him that he tripped down the stairs. How lucky for me that no one saw me push him.

Lulubelle was devastated, and took solace in my arms. She never saw the knife in my pocket, or the hair I had cut from the man's head. The next night as the town mourned, I headed into the woods, and stabbed the first tree I saw with the knife. The tree shook, and a black door appeared. I went inside without thinking, and found myself within the depths of an ancient castle teeming with witches and warlocks. They all glared at me, much like the villagers of my home did, but they did nothing to me. My feet found themselves walking forward to the throne room, and there sat Magica.

This time, I remembered to show reverence. I went down on one knee, took a fistful of her dress to kiss, and offered the hair. She chuckled, pleased. “Excellent work, servant. I think this deal will work out very nicely for the both of us.”

I moved onto the next village, and the next, and for years this was my life. Not every town had something Magica desired, but even so I never stayed for very long. Why chain myself down when there was an entire world to see? But I soon enough noticed a pattern whenever I left – the towns I left behind would fall to ruin, by plague, by weather, by thieves, by any stroke of bad fortune. Eventually I surmised that my luck was draining all the luck from everyone I met. In order for me to be happy, others would suffer. Fair enough.

I enjoyed testing my abilities. Not everyone liked my company, after all. One quaint fishing village had a surly chap who was envious of the ladies swooning around me, so he challenged me to a fight. I declined, and he continued to pester me. As I watched him rave and rant, I pondered what would happen if I wanted something bad to happen to him.

When he stepped outside, he slid on the icy street and broke his neck. I couldn't stop laughing.

I sold out loyal friends, I abandoned lovestruck maidens, I stole from poor old grandparents, all for the sake of my happiness and my Magica. Yet no matter what I gave her, she still called me servant. Only once did she ever say my name, and only then did I realize the hell I had trapped myself in.

On a brisk winter's day I came her castle to give her an update on a curse she'd given, and found her sitting with council, shouting at them before dismissing them. Several gave me the evil eye, and I gave them the good wink. Once she was alone, I strutted inside. “Tough day?”

“May all the fae have their wings fall off and rot for eternity.” She grumbled, flopping into a seat.

“So, yes.” I headed to her cabinet, pulling out drink and glasses. The wine of witches is powerful stuff, let me tell you.

“I was so close,” she rubbed her face, groaning. “So close to wiping out a good tenth of their generals... but they've allied themselves with mortals! And strong ones too. It'll take ages to take back the land they stole.”

“Which you stole first,” I playfully pointed out, handing her a full glass.

“Bah, details.” She drank. “It's been nothing but losses for days, I can barely think straight.” She rubbed her temples, and to me it seemed she hadn't slept in a while.

“You sound stressed.” He came up behind her, offering a kiss to the shoulder. “You ought to relax.”

“Easier said than done.” She moved the glass in her hand, watching the liquid slosh about. “Hmph... I suppose you might be right. If I don't find some way to ease myself, I'll go mad. I need a distraction.”

“Well, if I can help, say the word.” I shrugged one shoulder, taking a sip. I began to go into my report, noting that she didn't appear to be listening.

“Servant,” she cut in, “Come here.”

“Hm?” I leaned in, and then she kissed me. I was so stunned, I let my arm drop and the wine spilled onto the floor. I forgot how to breathe, how to think, unable to tell if this was reality or one of my many passionate dreams.

As the seconds ticked by and I understood this was real, I tossed the glass aside and pounced. If she wanted to relax, by the gods, I was more than happy to help her this way! How we eventually managed to get to her bed, I have no idea, as I was solely focused on showing her exactly how much I loved her. I worshiped every inch of her body, spoke of how she was in my every waking thought, and in my foolishness I thought she'd understand. As I heard her cry out my name, I believed she knew the depth of my devotion. She had to know that I'd do anything for her, she who gave me a reason to live. After this night, she had to know we were meant to be together. I refused to let her go, even when every last ounce of my strength was gone.

In the morning, I was so exhausted I could barely lift my head – witch stamina is rather amazing – but when I opened my eyes, she was already up and dressed. It took some effort, but I managed to sit up, smiling at her. “You never fail to impress, darling.”

She wasn't looking at me, instead having rolled out a map on her desk drawer. “I need to go this kingdom next, servant. They've got ores that could greatly improve my magical prowess.”

I stared so hard my eyes fell out of my sockets. I was back to servant. How? What about that night? I fumbled, trying to get on my legs. “M-Magica, you...” I grabbed her arm, forcing her to look at me. “What we have, you're just going to pretend it didn't happen?”

She looked at my hand as if it was a mere insect crawling along her dress, and flicked it off. “What of it? You did your duty, as you were supposed to.” As if things couldn't get worse, when she saw my eyes full of agony and heartbreak, she actually laughed. “Oh, my. What are you thinking, dear little fool?”

“I...” How could she not understand, when I held her so close and kissed her so deeply? “I love you, Magica, I've always loved you! Since the first day I met you, I've wanted to be with you!”

“Don't be ridiculous.” She tapped my lips with her finger, condescending and superior. “Creatures like you and I? We don't know what love is. Now, I've given you an assignment, so get to it.” With that, she was done, and walked out, leaving me alone.

That night was merely a servant obeying his mistress. It meant nothing to her, just a way to ease her stress. All I had done, all I had sacrificed, it was merely expected of me. And with growing horror I knew it wouldn't change. No matter how many towns I ruined or lives I took, I would only be her servant and nothing more. My luck would give me everything except the one who gave it to me.

I cleaned up, and left, my mind reeling in insanity. There had to be a way to make her understand. A lucky life was a long one, so she said, so surely there had to be some way to make her mine. I had to make her need me. I'd gotten everything else I wanted – so why couldn't I have her?! It wasn't fair! I was entitled to her! She belonged to me, and me alone!

I would make her love me, make her see that I was the only one worthy of her. I continued my work for her, erasing any last remains of my humanity. I'd prove myself, I'd show her I was more devoted than any witch and warlock under her reign. I began to seek out more witch artifacts on my own, delving into ancient scrolls and stories from elders. My luck would provide the exact text I needed, the right woman to fool to get past security, the exact moment a hurricane would crash down on the family of a witch hunter. All of it for her, all of it for me. I'd make her win the war against the fae, and enslave all of humanity, all so she could say my name.

And I could've lived with this. I believe I could've. If not for that. One. Last. Straw.

I was at the castle once more, ready to receive my next assignment, but when I entered the throne room, my heart stopped at who I saw. There stood cousin Donald, no longer a small boy with a happy face, but an adult man with faded blue eyes. Though it had been years since I'd seen him, I recognized him at once. “Donald?!” I shouted, running up to him, having buried all the memories of my family deep underground. “What in the world are you doing here?!” He didn't answer me – didn't seem to see me. I waved my hand in front of his face and got no reaction.

“Amazing spell, is it not?” Magica crooned on her throne, praising her own handiwork. “He sleeps now, an endless perfect dream, while I use his body for what I wish. Nothing can wake him now.”

I let out a small whistle, impressed. “That is something, all right.” I pinched his cheek, no reaction. Poke his face, no reaction. I was about to slap him when Magica gave me a look. “Sorry. Couldn't resist.” I teased. It didn't answer the question of why my cousin was here, but there was no love lost here. Let him and the entire family tree be a stepping stone for the witches, it didn't matter. “He'd make a great footstool.”

“I have much bigger things planned for all of us.” Magica smiled wickedly, and I heard the sounds of footsteps, as witches began to enter the throne room. “In these years past, your cousin became entangled with the fae, and even found himself a bride among them.”

I raised an eyebrow, glancing once at Donald before returning my attentions back. “You're saying he's married to a fairy?”

“Was,” She corrected, one finger up. “But, we played a most fanciful trick. I managed to seal off the fairy rings temporarily, and disguised myself as his woman.” Already I found my stomach starting to twist, but told myself it was nothing, merely her plan. “In the world of fae, giving your name holds power. Wearing the face of his beloved one, I had him give me his name – breaking the wedded vow. And breaking a fairy's promise is a dangerous thing. Once the fairy rings were unsealed, they launched war against the 'lying' mortals.” She cackled, and a few of her followers followed suit.

“Oh, the poor bride tried to plead, it wasn't his fault,” she continued to giggle, “But not a word was listened. The fae have lost themselves an ally, and for that, we grow stronger.”

“We mustn't waste time,” one elder witch warned, rising up. “We must launch our next attack soon. I say we strike to the north, while their Queen recovers.”

“A woman's work is never done,” Magica clicked her tongue, standing up. “Let us be off.” And then – and then – AND THEN – she kissed Donald.

It was a second long, a quick peck, but to me, this was a moment of eternity seared into my eyes. She took his hand, but before they could leave, I screamed, “What is this?!” She who would never call me by name would taste the lips of my cousin so freely?!

She scoffed at my anger, pulling Donald toward her, and he showed no resistance. “Well, while I played the part of his blushing bride, I got used to the taste.” She then chuckled, poking Donald's lips. “A man who can never argue with me, never raise a word... makes for a suitable husband, does he not?”

“Hus...” I couldn't even finish the word. I stood there, trembling in rage, as she walked hand-in-hand with him, the witches following soon after. When the door clicked shut, I lost the last bits of my sanity. I shoved the throne over, ripped the curtains, smashed the furniture, to hell with the consequences. She preferred a dreaming, dead Donald over me?! Over me?! OVER GLADSTONE GANDER?!

What had I done to deserve this final stroke of madness? Denying me her love was one thing, but to gladly go into the arms of my cousin?! How was I supposed to stand for this?! I'd given her more than he ever could, but he was the one she chose?! How was this lucky? This was a curse! Oh, he would pay, they would all pay, in blood and fire and the worst of luck I could summon! I would make Donald's world hell on earth, if that's what I took! I am Gladstone Gander, and I get whatever I want.

But first. I needed time to plan. And think. So here I am. In this old bar, drinking this pathetic swill, trying to steel my nerves. Trying to figure out where to direct my luck. Trying not to hear the gossip that hovers around me again. Yet...

I hear he's part fae – explains all his good fortune.

The enemy of my enemy is my friend, so it's been said. Perhaps – perhaps here is an answer. They're winning against the fae now, but things can change, especially if I will it so. One could say they only reason they were winning at all was because it was lucky for me. But what if I turned it around? If they lost, they would need to pick themselves back up again. If Donald could be returned to the fae, maybe they'd forgive the mortal realm and join forces again.

Oh, yes, this could work out very nicely, couldn't it? What if, the witches lost so many and so much that their numbers dwindled? Their powers decreased? They would need their servant to rise again. She would need me. If I wanted to, I could take it all away. Her followers, her castle, maybe even her powers, as long as it played in my favor. I could make her need me. I could make it so she couldn't live without me.

I could make her beg.

My drink was refilled, and the young lady who'd done so hummed a bit. And in that moment I saw how much power I really had – this was a complete stranger, and I could either make her live like a princess without care in the world, or have her rotting in an alleyway with the rats, depending on my mood. And she'd never know she was in the presence of such a god. “Free ale all night”, she mused, “You must be one lucky man, my friend!”

I smiled. “You have no idea.”

#magicstone #gladstone gander #magica de spell #fanfic

46 notes · View notes