Tales after Dusk 05

Quickly slipping inside the castle's main hall, she takes up a position with a pair of chatting ladies. It allows her the ability to look through the open front doors and keep a close eye on the group's progress. They finally reach the entrance, where all three of them linger hesitantly.

"You two can wait here. I doubt I will encounter any problems inside the castle," the woman says.

"Are you sure Miss Talia? We could easily check the inside for you," one of them replies.

"There will be no need," Talia says.

As she enters the castle, Alecta remains perfectly still. She has a small smile on her face, a hand on her chest as if she is in the process of laughing at something one of the women said. Never would she have imagined that she could as easily track a person simply by remaining still and within sight of them. Though part of her desperately wants to move, even in the slightest, just to frighten the Talia woman, she refrains.

After Talia passes her and has walked about half way down the hall, Alecta silently slips from the group of women and into a small doorframe so that she can keep her target in sight. Slowly, she creeps down the wall, her eyes never leaving Talia, as if she were stalking prey. They continue this way until they come upon the grand stair case. When Talia starts to ascend upwards towards the highest tower, Alecta keeps her position until the woman is just out of sight. Quickly, she covers the distance to the first step but she as she is about to raise her foot to follow, she halts. The overwhelming feeling hits her again, pulling her towards the servant's steps. She tries to ignore it and takes a step upwards but the feeling becomes too great, as if her whole being tells her she is wrong. Hesitating a moment, the feeling grabs a hold and before she knows it her silent footsteps have carried her down the stairs. She tells herself it will be fine, as she knows exactly where Talia is headed and she will only take a brief look downstairs so that she can satisfy the curiosity that drew her there.

The stairs seem to go on forever, until finally she reaches the darkness of the basement where the servants' quarters are. Tired, almost dingy men and women remain frozen amidst their hurry; their faces are well worn with the abundant amount of work they have done in their short lives. Alecta weaves in between them, knowing where she is going though she has never gone there before.

The temperature increases as Talia climbs the stairs, up to the tower. The vast wealth of the hallway catches her eye for a moment but the guards at the end, posted on either side of the last door frame give her a chill. She doesn't like walking past all of the frozen people—it frightens her. Quickly she crosses the length of the hall and pushes open the beautiful golden door into a lavish bedroom.

Alecta walks to the end of a dark hall, to a plain, cracked oak door that is very similar to the dozen others she has passed. The hinges groan as she leans into it, setting eyes on a tiny, humble servant's room. A man lies in the bed, clothes thread bare and poor.

Talia walks towards the tall, velvet covered, four post bed. Lying upon it, she sees the Prince. His fine, silk clothes drape over his body, shiny golden crown resting on his head. She stands there for a moment, looking over her reward. To her disappointment, he isn't as handsome as the stories made him seem. She frowns, displeased that he isn't the prize she was after. Never the less, she has come this far—she might as well try her luck.

Alecta crouches down next to the bed, getting a closer look at the man. Instantly, a shiver creeps up her spine. He is the same man she dreamt about. His long black hair is disheveled, his thick beard, yet well trimmed emphasizes his handsome, square face. She reaches out, half expecting him to disappear but when her fingers touch his soft dark hair and brush it away from his face, her heart jumps into her throat. Though she would not have thought it possible to be in love at first sight, Alecta feels drawn to him, as if he were meant to be hers and she his. Without thinking, she leans forward, placing a delicate kiss on his full lips.

Talia closes her eyes, not wanting to look at the fat man before her. She wouldn't have even considered him worth her time, if it weren't for the promise of a kingdom. She presses her lips into his.

Feeling foolish, Alecta pulls back. Bright green eyes underneath a furrowed brow look at her accusingly. Shocked, she rises to her feet. The sounds of movement outside jar her so suddenly; she stumbles backwards, looking out the open door. Servants dash by, hastily going about their duty. She turns back to the man, who now sits up in the bed.

"Who the hell are you? Why am I here?" He asks harshly, "And what the devil am I wearing?"

A woman bursts into the room; upon seeing the man in her bed, she shrieks, "Who are you? Get out! Help! Thief!"

Utterly beside herself, Alecta bolts from the room, bounding up the stairs two at a time. Once she reaches the main level, she forces herself to walk calmly with her head up, as if she belongs there. No one looks at her twice as they continue about their business.

She certainly would have never believed it possible that Talia would be the Prince's true love, that her kiss would be the one to wake him—but it must be true. As she walks out of the castle, she slows her pace even more, drawing in deep breaths to try to quell her racing heart; casually she heads down the front stairs to the bustling town before her. Alecta calmly takes a seat on the bench in the front garden overlooking the main thoroughfare of the town. Her heart pounds in her throat. Her hopes of finally finding a life worth living in this sleeping town have now vanished, yet they leave behind an odd feeling, an almost giddy yearning for the man she just kissed. His green eyes burned into her memory, his handsome face still sharp in her mind.

It takes a while for her heart to return back to a more normal pace; people come and go about their daily business without acknowledging her. She watches them with awe; none of them realize that they have just been frozen in time for over a hundred years. Just outside the castle gate, she sees Aiken and Basil sitting atop a wagon as it comes to a stop across the road. Alecta rises and walks towards them, keeping her sharp eyes peeled at the now moving bodies around her as she crosses the street.

Without acknowledging them, she steps onto the boardwalk just outside of the adjacent shop. Casually leaning against the edge of the building that they are parked in front of, she says, "What the hell do we do now?" She remains facing the castle as if she has nothing to do with the men. They climb down from the carriage; Basil pulls out a pipe and begins to fill it with tobacco while Aiken pretends to check the straps on the horses.

"I cannot believe that...well, any of this. We almost had it made," Aiken says grumpily.

"Aiken will go rent our room down at the Inn. Jasper and Kane have made it back. We'll take this carriage down to the cave and leave it with the other one. Then I say we all meet back at the Inn this afternoon."

"Why?" Alecta asks, watching a child follow its mother down the street.

Basil puffs a few times to get his pipe light, "There is about to be the wedding of the century and we will be here to witness it. Folks from every kingdom will flood to this town—the possibilities will be endless."

She looks down at her hands, examining her fingers, "Don't you think you're getting a bit greedy?" She lowers her voice, "With what we have from here, plus what we have saved there is more than enough to last for years. We should quit while we are ahead."

"Is it ever enough?" Aiken says, much to their surprise; he is bent over, picking at one of the horse's hooves. "Did you see her do it?"

Alecta pretends to stifle a yawn, "Not exactly but she must have. None of this would have happened if she didn't."

"Would you like a ride back to the Inn?" Basil says, starting to get worried that they have a carriage full of stolen goods and are sitting right outside of the castle. He still doesn't look at her but steps on the wheel to get back up to the seat of the wagon.

"No, I will walk and meet all of you back there later. I just need...some time to think." She stuffs her hands into the pockets of her dress, slowly walking across the road, parallel to the caste gates. Aiken checks the other horse's hooves.

Loud voices cause Alecta to turn around quickly; worried that they are directed to her, her heart begins to pound again. Instead, she sees two guards drag a man out of the castle doors; the same man she just kissed.

"Unhand me you insolent fools!" He shrieks.

"As you wish," one of the guards says before tossing him down to the ground. "Should we find you in the castle again, you will be imprisoned."

"Imprisoned!" He shouts.

"Yes, imprisoned," the other replies. "Do I need to explain to you what it means?"

The man gives them a dumbfounded look; the guards look at each other, shaking their heads as they head back inside. Alecta slips back through the gates of the castle, lingering near a blooming magnolia tree while she watches the man. He remains on the ground for a moment before slowly rising to his feet and dusting himself off. As he turns around, his eyes land on Alecta.

"You!" He gasps. Wide steps bring him over to Alecta. By his demeanor, she feels as if she should flee, yet her feet remain firmly planted in the ground. He stops just in front of her, "What did you do to me?"

"I'm sorry?" Alecta says, taken aback.

"No one knows who I am—they don't remember me. I am dressed like a peasant, I just got kicked out of the castle; it is all your fault. You're one of them, aren't you?" He grabs her wrist and tugs her forward, "You will explain everything to them."

"Ouch, let go of me," she says, trying to tug her wrist away. When his grasp doesn't give, she begins to question her misguided taste in men. Losing her patience with him, she raises her voice a little louder and adds a bit of fear to her tone, "Please, stop—you're hurting me!" Her voice, matched with the expression painted on her face, draws the attention of one of the castle guards who just expelled the man.

"Let her go!" He booms.

The man releases Alecta's wrist but looks at the guard as if he cannot believe the man's gall, "She will explain everything. Now let me pass."

The guard gives Alecta an apologetic look before grabbing the man's arm and twisting it behind his back, "That's it; I have had enough of you. Perhaps some time in the dungeon will alter your attitude."

Before she knows it, the guard hauls the man off, leaving Alecta standing alone. She rubs her wrist, lingering for a moment before she heads back to the street. She notices that Aiken and Basil are still waiting on the carriage, watching her. Basil tilts his head, as if to ask her what just happened. Alecta shrugs her shoulders before turning and heading down the road again.

...

Alecta is on her second pint of ale, yet she doesn't feel the same celebratory mood as everyone around her. The town is booming with the news of the Prince's engagement; though people seemed to know about the curse, none of them actually believe they were asleep for a hundred years. Within her own group, spirits are high from the success of their most recent heist; yet despite the fact that she now has enough money to live whatever lifestyle she chooses, she still feels alone.

"Oi," Aiken says, nudging her shoulder when he sits down next to her in the booth, "I just got...acquainted...with the lady that runs this Inn," he beams proudly.

Alecta shakes her head, offering a smile while she sips her ale.

"All right, what the hell is the matter with you?" Jasper says, slightly slurring his speech.

"Is it that man?" Basil asks, "What was his problem anyways?"

"Man?" Kane says, perking up as he returns to the table.

"It's nothing," she defends.

"Horseshit. Out with it."

She stares into her mug, watching the ripples in the foamy brown liquid, "I just didn't think he should have been thrown in prison, that's all. He was just confused."

"Well if you weren't such a great actress," Aiken says, straightening up and extending his hand forward in a grand gesture, "maybe the guard wouldn't have thrown him in prison. It's your own damn fault."

"You're right," she replies, pushing against him until he stumbles out of the booth, "I'm going to break him out. I owe him that much."

"Oh now wait a second," Kane says, almost scolding, "we can't risk you getting caught."

"Right," Jasper adds, downing his ale, "we'll help you."

"Good, I've grown dull of all this celebrating," says Basil, standing as well.

...

He cannot believe what is happening. He was outside, shooting targets with his bow when there was something peculiar about the arrow he just drew. The tip of it glistened so and it seemed rounded as if it were dull. He reached up to check the edge of it when he pricked his finger on the end. He can remember being so tired; his father was screaming, his mother crying as a few guards helped him inside and to his bed. His whole body seemed weak; he tried to fight it but as he laid back and his eyes drifted shut he dreamt—of her. That woman. It was only a moment ago, a mere blink and then he opened his eyes; there she was. But he was not where he remembered falling asleep. Then no one recognized him, they treated him like a leper, even his own parents. And now here he is, hands chained to the wall in a cold, filthy cell in the dungeon of his own castle.

He sees a flash out of the corner of his eye, a shimmer in the dim torch light of the cell. Turning his head towards it, he watches a large moth flap about the flames. It comes closer, spinning in the air as if it is out of control. Then it grows—larger and larger, wings becoming arms, legs, until an older lady appears standing before him. She holds a finger to her lips, peeking out through the cell bars. The guard sitting at the desk has his back to them. The woman comes closer, looking over the man.

"Well, this is quite peculiar, Thorin."

Relief washes over his face, "You know me. Please, get me out of these chains—explain to them who I am." He holds his hands up to her.

She slowly shakes her head, "I am sorry, I cannot," she says sadly.

"What? Why not?" His voice gets louder.

"Shh," she says harshly. "This was not my doing—it is not something I have the power to fix. Believe me, I wish I could just wave my hand in the air and say 'abracadabra' and have everything return to normal but that isn't how it is done. In fact, I'm not sure how this was done in the first place. Somehow you were moved after you fell asleep and the memories of your people seemed to have been stolen. There is an order to undoing a curse—" she stops suddenly when they hear footsteps outside. In a flash, the woman disappears, a simple moth all that is left fluttering about the cell.

"Keep it down in there," the guard grumbles.

Thorin leans forward, looking through the bars at him but all he sees is the guard's back as he is still sitting at a desk. And her. That woman, as if she appeared out of nowhere, stands before the guard, cloak and hood drawn up, a basket resting on the crook her arm. She looks somewhat different from before—before she appeared classy, elegant, yet now there is something slightly crass about her. Her hair seems to be lighter, her face thick with makeup and her demeanor is almost outrageous. She seems to be an entirely different person from before, so much so that Thorin wonders if he is starting to lose his mind. She doesn't look into the cell but instead bats her eyes at the guard.

"Hello," she says with a voice thick like honey. There is nothing to suggest the frightened woman that Thorin grabbed earlier.

The guard straightens up, "I'm sorry, ma'am but there are no visitors allowed."

She unclasps her cloak, letting it fall to the ground; her clothes are different than earlier. She wears a simpler outfit, composed of a sheer cream colored shirt, a deep blue bodice and skirt. Her corset is cinched so tightly that her ample bosom appears to be on the verge of being exposed. There is a black mole on her right breast. She pouts, emphasizing her bright red lips, "Even if I am here to visit you?" The woman drapes herself on the desk, opening the basket. She pulls out a piece of yellow colored, frosted cake. "Everyone up there is celebrating the engagement."

The guard shifts awkwardly, excitedly. He sweeps back his hair, "And why isn't a lovely lady like yourself celebrating with them?"

"Oh, I find them dull. Those high society men are all the same—a bit soft around the middle if you know what I mean," she dips her finger into the frosting, slowly licking it off. "I prefer my men a bit more...tough. So I figured I'd come down here and give you a piece of cake," she purrs at him. Delicately, she breaks a piece off with her fingers. Tilting her head up, she slowly extends the cake in her hand towards the guard, "What do you think about that?" She places the piece in his mouth.

"Mmm," he says, gently sucking on her fingers, "I think that is great cake."

She smiles, watching the guard. His head begins to sway and within moments it thunks down on to the desk. The smile fades from her lips, a blank expression replacing it as she wipes her hand on her skirt, "It really was good cake," she says offhandedly. She roughly pushes the guard back in his chair and grabs the keys from his belt before walking to Thorin's cell.

"Did you just kill him?" Thorin shrieks. He can't help but be put off by the thought of someone so offhandedly committing a crime in his castle.

"Keep your voice down," Alecta chastises him quietly, "and no, killing isn't my style." She lets herself into the cell, crossing it quickly to him. Grabbing his shackles, she begins to unlock them.

"Your style?" He says, almost appalled. Her hands are so soft and gentle against his that he eyes the pale skin of her forearms, trying to keep his gaze from her chest. From the closeness of her proximity he can smell the fragrant perfume emanating from her.

Alecta pauses, slightly taken aback at his attitude. She tilts her head for a moment, as if considering leaving the other shackle on—but she doesn't. "You're one to talk, servant. Just because you work in the castle doesn't give you the right to look down on the rest of us. Decent work is hard to come by these days."

Thorin looks up, dumbfounded by her words yet caught up in her deep brown eyes. His heart begins to beat harder.

Her brows crinkle, confused by him; she flicks him on the forehead, "I'm a thief, genius. A master thief, I might add and a confidence woman to boot. So if you want to get out of here, keep your mouth shut and do as I say, understand?"

He gawks at her; he hasn't ever been spoken to like this before, least of all by a woman. Not only does she treat him as if she were his equal, she treats him as though he were completely dense. A woman with such beauty and elegance but also with the fearlessness to walk into a prison and break someone out seems like such a dichotomy that he has difficulty grasping it.

Alecta gets frustrated, "Look, if you want to rot down here for the rest of your life, that's fine by me," she turns and starts walking towards the cell door.

"Wait," he says softly, "I understand."

"Good, now come on," she says, irritated. Walking over to the desk with the passed out guard, she opens the basket and pulls out a black wool cloak which she tosses to Thorin. As he puts it on, she walks to the next cell where an older man stands, holding onto the bars. She hands him the keys and with a soft smile, she says, "Pay it forward. Oh and give them hell upstairs, in about three minutes, got it?"