Tales after Dusk 05

The man gives her a big smile, "As you wish, angel of mercy."

With a soft laugh, she rushes over and grabs her cloak, putting it on over her shoulders and pulling the hood up. Quickly, she grabs Thorin's wrist and leads him up the stairs. He awkwardly follows her, having never been in this much of a hurry in his whole life. With her help, they creep through the halls of the castle unseen. When they spot a guard, Alecta freezes and ducks into a doorway, or behind a tapestry or around a corner, tugging Thorin the whole way. He is surprised at how quietly she moves and he can tell that she is getting angry that he makes a tremendous amount of noise when he walks. He honestly never noticed it before, just how loudly his footsteps echo through the halls.

They finally reach the front entrance and as if on cue, they hear a loud ruckus behind them. Hiding in the shadows of a crevice behind a suit of armor, they watch guards come running in through the castle doors and down the hall, towards the jail cells. When it is all clear, they slip out the front doors.

"Put your hood up," she whispers, doing the same. She lets go of him and instead of creeping around she holds her chin high and walks quickly but not too quickly. They pass a couple sitting on a bench, caught up in a conversation. A few straggling guards blow by them, not bothering to give them a second glance.

When they are just to the front gate, a loud shout comes from behind them, "Stop—you two, wait!" Thorin recognizes the voice as the guard from the desk.

"Just keep walking, pretend you don't hear him," she says sharply, as if threatening Thorin.

He does as she says but they soon hear hastened footsteps coming up from behind. All of a sudden the footsteps stop and they hear a loud thud followed by an "Ooph!"

When they round the corner of the castle gates and to the road, Thorin sneaks a quick sideways glance at the guard; the man on the bench stands over him, "Oh I am so sorry, chap, are you all right?" Basil says.

Once they reach the main road, Alecta sticks to the shadows. When she can, she leads them down alleys, creeping along the fronts of darkened buildings, hiding behind barrels. It takes a while but they make it to the bridge, only to discover that the gates have been shut. The wide open square and fountain are just in front of them, with no shadows or buildings nearby to hide against. On either side of the gate is a tall sentry tower; torchlight casts shadows of the guards pacing inside of them.

Alecta lingers for a moment in an alley, peering around the corner. Her original plan of sending him down the main road won't happen, now that the gates have been shut. But, as she knows from personal experience, there are no gates at the military entrance. Only a small counter at the hidden cove in town; the other side is unmanned. She scans the wall for more guards; seeing none, she decides her only choice is to slip down to the hidden bridge, through the entrance just below the left guard tower. The closest building to the tower is the tavern. With the inside brightly lit, it casts its light onto the square, making creeping through the shadows next to impossible. That leaves the least desirable option—walking out into the open.

She turns to Thorin, "We are almost there but this is the most dangerous part. Stick by me, close but not too close; we must walk slowly, as if we are merely out for a stroll. Understand?"

Thorin looks at her eerily beautiful, shadow casted face; he nods silently.

"Good. Let's go."

Then, as if they hadn't just spent the past half hour running through the shadows after breaking out of prison, Alecta slips out into the open with her chin held high and her arms tucked safely in her cloak, as if she is merely enjoying a beautiful night. Thorin, in awe at how easily she switches it on and off, tries as hard as he can to mimic her attitude. Slowly, they walk across the square, past the fountain and towards the tavern.

Just as they are about there, the sound of footsteps on stone catch their attention; some guards are coming down from the tower.

Quickly, Alecta rushes to the front of the guard tower, just out of sight of the entrance; there is no place to hide as the light from inside permeates everywhere. She pauses for a brief moment, before she throws her cloak over her right shoulder, exposing her half bare bosom to the cool night air. She grabs Thorin's hand and slides it around her waist. The footsteps get louder. Hastily she takes a hold of his shirt and tugs him to her, until his body is pressed against hers.

"Kiss me," she says almost frantically.

"What?" Thorin says in shock.

Just as the soldiers reach the bottom step, Alecta closes the gap between her lips and his. Stunned, Thorin considers pulling away but the softness of her skin and the sweet taste of her mouth draw him in. Gently, he kisses her back, letting his hand drift up to cradle her cheek. He feels his heart pound as he wants to deepen their kiss but finds himself afraid to do so.

One of the guards lets out a wolf whistle, while the other one taunts, "The Inn is just down the road if you need a room!" Both of them snicker as they wander out of the square.

Alecta finds herself surprised with the tenderness that he shows when he kisses her. Because there is still a task at hand to accomplish, she forces herself to set those thoughts aside and opens her eyes, peering over his shoulder to ensure that the guards are gone before she breaks the kiss.

Thorin takes a deep breath, reluctantly letting go of her lips. He removes his hand from her waist and takes a small step back, "That was..." he says softly.

She clears her throat, pulling her cloak back over her shoulder while scanning the square for movement, "Convincing," she finishes for him. "You might have a future at being more than a servant—perhaps in Haven you could try your hand at being a confidence man." Alecta ignores the slightly hurt, aghast look on his face.

"Haven?" He says, confused.

She puts her finger to her lips to silence him, before once more grabbing his hand. Quickly, she walks down the wall, pulling him around the corner into the shadows at the entrance of the hidden bridge. With her back pressed against the stones, she slowly tilts her head around the second corner, to get a peek at the desk. There are two guards sitting, playing a game of cards.

Alecta pulls her head back, fumbling with the clasp of her cloak. Two guards aren't impossible but it is defiantly not ideal. And especially not in a dress. She hands Thorin her cloak, speaking softly, "Wait here."

Before he knows it, she steps out around the corner. Slowly, shyly, she walks to the desk; it takes a moment for the guards to even notice that she is there. When they do, it gives them such a start that one of them jumps out of his chair.

"Shit, woman, you scared the hell out of me," he says, dropping his cards down onto the desk.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to do that," she offers flirtatiously, clasping her hands in front of her. She eyes the one behind the desk, trying to draw him out, "I just figured that with everyone up at the castle..."

The younger one, standing before her, drops his mouth open, "You figured...what, exactly?"

The older one behind the desk gets a devious smile, finally standing and stepping out towards her, "My my, such a young one too." He extends his right hand out towards her, almost gentlemanly like.

Alecta shyly lists from side to side, hesitating before she takes the old man's hand. In a blink of an eye, she twists the old man's arm around his own neck; standing behind him, she reaches under his left arm to grab his right elbow, putting enough pressure on it to stop the air from entering into his lungs. The younger guard hesitates, confused at first before he lunges towards Alecta, screaming, "Hey—what are you doing? Stop that!"

As he draws near, she keeps her grasp on the old man while throwing her leg up on to the table. Using the leverage, she swings her other foot forward, catching the younger guard in the throat. He stumbles backwards, trying to breathe. It takes a few seconds but the older man passes out.

Immediately, she releases him, grabbing the wooden club from his belt. Without a second thought she walks to the younger guard. He starts to stumble away from her but with a precise blow, she strikes him at the back of the skull. Instantly his body goes limp and crumbles to the floor.

"Hey, servant, hurry up," she whispers harshly.

Mouth wide open, Thorin steps around the corner, "What did you do?" He says accusingly.

Alecta holds her hands out, confused by his rudeness and lack of understanding, "Wake up boy. Nine times out of ten, someone who gets locked up in a prison never gets out again. In case you haven't realized, I am breaking you out, setting you free." She shakes her head, pulling a pouch out of her pocket. She tosses it to him while snatching her cloak back. Thorin catches it, hearing the jingling of the coins inside. He looks back up at her.

"You can't stay here—you need to leave tonight," she says harshly, swatting away a moth that flies around her head. "You can make it through the deadlands by night; follow the northern star, always keeping it in front of you. If you make haste, you will reach Haven by morning."

"I—I can't leave," he states, brows furrowed.

On her last nerve with the man, she grabs him by the shoulders. The sounds of several sets of heavy footsteps walking across the courtyard cut off her anger and replaces it with urgency. Male voices echo through the stone entrance, "Let's check with the bridge guards."

"You don't have a choice, you have to hurry!" She shoves him towards the bridge, "Go!"

Thorin just stands there, "I can't leave--this is my home." He looks up hopelessly at the woman who risked her life to save him, thankful that she tried to provide him with a future, however uncertain it may be.

The hair on Alecta's neck stands up; she feels like there is someone right behind her though the footsteps of the guards are still a ways off. Pulling a dagger from a hidden slit in her dress she spins around, pointing it directly at the face of the elderly woman who stands behind her.

"Oh," the woman says surprised. With her cheeks puffed out she blows on the dagger—instantly it turns into a white fluffy feather.

"What the hell—" Alecta exclaims but is cut short when the footsteps draw closer.

"No time," the woman says, taking the feather. Swiftly she turns and walks to a wooden door behind the desk, leading to a supply closet, "Get in, now."

Thorin follows her direction without hesitating. Alecta cautiously eyes the woman but as the footsteps start echoing down the hallway she decides she has no choice and steps into the closet. The old woman enters behind them, shutting the door.

A fire blazes up in the crooked hearth of a small cottage. Cozy and quaint, the wooden walls and fur carpeted floor create an overall warm atmosphere. Though a complete structure with walls and a roof, it appears as if the entire house generated itself from the earth and the trees as all of the walls are different sizes and shapes, nothing meticulous or intentional about the place. Each piece furniture, though plushly cushioned and inviting, seem to be made from a single seamless piece of wood with no joints or pins.

Alecta and Thorin stand side by side, each just as confused as the next.

"No," Alecta says, shaking her head. She turns around and pulls open the door—the door they just walked through—instead of seeing a dozen guards standing in the hidden bridge, she sees a small garden enclosed with a short stone wall, just beyond that, a forest. She shuts the door and opens it again, expecting, hoping something different to appear the second time. "You're a witch." She says harshly.

"No," the woman says, sitting down at a small wooden table, "I am a nymph, there's a difference. For a nymph, all doors lead home."

She turns around, eyeing the creature at the table. She is older, with pure white hair and wrinkled skin, though her bright golden eyes suggest that her appearance isn't an accurate assessment of her age. Clothed simply in roughly woven and poorly died fabric, her dress seems to be intentionally unfinished at the hems and has begun to unravel slightly. Though she is barefooted, she appears to be remarkably clean.

Thorin leaves Alecta's side and sits down at the table across from the nymph. His slightly relaxed demeanor causes Alecta to be even more on edge.

"I don't understand," Alecta says, "All of the nymphs are dead. The sylvans killed them all."

"It's all right dear, few understand. Sit. We will have some tea."

Alecta remains were she is, as if trying to come to grips with everything. Though she believes in sylvans and magic and saw with her own eyes a town frozen in time, she still finds it a bit jarring to walk through a door and end up in a completely different place.

"Sit," the old woman repeats but rather demanding this time. She leans back in her chair and reaches over towards the fireplace to pull off a kettle of water. From a bowl on the table she transfers several leaves into three different cups, over which she pours the hot water.

Reluctantly, Alecta moves towards the table. She pulls her chair a bit further back so that she is evenly spaced from both of them. She takes the cup but doesn't dare drink its contents.

"My name is Mayweather," the nymph says while placing the kettle back on the hook.

"Mayweather," Alecta repeats, remembering the story Kane told her, "You're the nymph who altered the curse."

She nods slowly, "That's right. Now, I brought you here because the Prince needs your help."

"The Prince," Alecta repeats, a smile growing on her face, "My help." She snorts in disbelief, blowing on the steam rising from the tea cup, "I'm not sure what that ogre could need with me—he's got his beautiful Princess and he's awake, so the curse is broken."

Mayweather exchanges a glance with Throin, "Not exactly."

Alecta looks at both of them, wondering what sort of joke they are trying to pass over her. She keeps her mouth shut and her face blank, waiting for one of them to speak while she tries to formulate a way out of the cabin and back to her companions.

"Why don't you explain it to her," Mayweather says to Thorin.

He looks down at his tea cup, unsure how to feel. He suspects that this woman saved his life because she assumed he was no one, simply a forgotten soul. Had she known his true identity in the first place, he has the inkling that he would still be in prison. He turns to her, catching her dark eyes and momentarily thinks of their kiss, making it necessary for him to clear his throat before the words manage to come out, "My name is Prince Thorin Briar the Third."

Alecta's expression doesn't change. After a moment she smiles sarcastically, setting her cup down, "Right and I am the Queen of Reddington. You two have wasted enough of my time, now please send me back," she says, rising to her feet. Looking at them both she shakes her head and walks to the door. With her hand on the handle she glances over her shoulder at the two and suppresses a laugh. She opens the door, hoping to find the tunnel on the other side; instead she just sees a garden, "I'm serious now, I've had enough."

"It is true," Mayweather says calmly.

Alecta spins on her heels, getting irritated with this game, "If it is true, then why are you dressed like a peasant?"

"After he pricked his finger, Carabosse—who initially cursed him—must have returned to the castle, somehow. She undoubtedly removed him from his bed in the tower and switched him with a peasant boy," Mayweather explains.

"Fine, then how come no one recognizes him?"

"After she moved me, she must have stolen the memories of everyone in town," Thorin postulates.

Mayweather nods, "Yes, I do believe she did."

Alecta crosses her arms over her chest, "Oh is that so? Then how come he woke up when that woman kissed the 'fake' Prince?"

There is a pause. Thorin stares down into his tea cup, watching the murky liquid for a moment before replying quietly, "I didn't." He turns towards Alecta, seeing the smug expression on her face fade when he continues, "I woke up when you kissed me."

Alecta's affect fades to blank, her face like a porcelain mask while inside she feels panic begin to brew, "No, that can't be right."

"Why not?" Mayweather says, rising to her feet.

"I'm just a thief—a nobody. I'm not—not a lady, I'm not a dutchess, I'm nothing. And he," she almost shrieks, losing her composure, "he can't be my true love."

"Trust me, you're just as shocked as I am," he says, trying to offer her some comfort but it comes off as haughty. He doesn't even realize it until Alecta sneers at him.

"Well you're awake, so you're welcome," she turns to Mayweather, "Send me back right now or I will just leave and find my way back the hard way."

The old nymph walks to her, "You have to help him," she pleads.

"I am pretty sure I already did. I woke him up, I risked my life breaking him out of jail and now he is safe in your cottage," she says angrily, pulling open the door and stepping into the garden.

"The dreams won't stop," Mayweather says after following her outside. Alecta halts but doesn't turn around, "As long as you live, you will dream about him every night. You two are bonded in this."

Alecta turns around, giving the old woman a fierce look.

"You have to help him, it is the only way. You are the only one who can undo Carabosse's curse."

Alecta clenches her jaw. Having spent so much of her life doing as she chooses, she doesn't respond well to being ordered into something, especially when that something involves assisting the over privileged. "Let's say, for a moment, that I agree to help him. What would that entail?"

"You must find her lair and steal back the memories of the town. Then you must kill her because she will not rest as long as Thorin is set to receive the throne," Mayweather says casually as if the pertinents were obvious.

"Why don't you just get the memories back and kill her?" Alecta says slowly, trying to rid herself of the franticness that is welling up in her gut.

Mayweather shakes her head, "I cannot. The cycle must stop with Carabosse. All nymphs are born inherently good—then, for some unknown reason, we do something bad--kill something, hurt someone—that turns a nymph evil. She and I, we are the last two. If I kill her, then I will turn evil as well."

Alecta considers it for a moment, "I help him—then the dreams would stop?" It wasn't until after she saw Thorin's face in the flesh that she realized he had been haunting her sleep for years. She never really thought much of it because she has dreamed of the same people before, even the same places multiple times but each time those events were based off of a real life experience whereas until today, his face was a figment of her imagination.

"Yes," Mayweather lies flawlessly because she knows it is necessary for Alecta to believe she has the choice to run away at anytime.

Alecta walks back into the cabin; Mayweather follows, shutting the door behind her. Thorin, unable to hear what they were talking about, sits up straight in his chair. His posture, his handsomeness, his attitude, everything about him irritates Alecta. "Fine," she growls slightly, "I will help you. Once everything is back to normal, we can go our separate ways."

"Fine," Thorin says, rising to his feet; the tone in his voice suggests that he isn't too thrilled with the idea of her helping him either. He would much rather Mayweather solve the situation herself or at least attempt to find a less attractive and more male professional that he can rely on. He finds the probability of this woman being his true love to be minimal at best; despite her beauty she is nothing like any of the women he has had interest in, in the past and that frightens him substantially.