Tales after Dusk 05

He remains at the table for a while, replaying his fight with Alecta over and over in his mind. Before too long his eyes grow heavy and soon he desires sleep, though he finds it oddly ironic because he has been asleep for a hundred years. Checking out the beds, he discovers that the one next to Alecta's is the only empty one and that all others have been claimed. He kicks off his well worn boots and sheds his tunic, sliding under the rough wool blanket onto a bed not even fit for a dog. As he uncomfortably lies there, staring up at the ceiling by firelight, he can't help but wonder how people live like this. The poorly made furniture and textiles pale in comparison to the things he grew up with and the sheer treatment of the guards towards him was rude to say the least. Once he is back in the castle he will have to see to it that those guards get reprimanded for their actions.

He rolls over, trying to sleep, yet Alecta's rant starts to fire him up. At first he is angry that she thinks herself better than him but as her words slowly sink into his mind, he realizes that she, in fact, just might be. Though he was born with the highest of status and the vastness of wealth, he tries to think upon something that he truly enjoyed in his twenty-seven years of life and he can come up with nothing. Countless parties, dances, presents, hunting trips, nameless memories that all have little value to him, save one: the moment he felt lips on his and opened up his eyes to see Alecta's beautiful face before him. It was only after that, that he realized his fortune had changed and she had become the bearer of bad news.

As he thinks about it more, he begins to feel remorse for the way he treated her. She wasn't attracted to him for this title or his money, she was simply attracted to him for who he was. It did not matter to her that he was lying in a servant's bed, dressed in peasant clothing because she was only after one thing: love. Even after he wronged her, she still risked her neck to break him out of prison and try to get him to safety. Thorne doubts that anyone else—save maybe his parents—would take the risk for him and rightfully so, because up until this point in his life he has been a rich, wealthy, pompous, arrogant, entitled, gluttonous fool.

When sleep starts to creep in on him, Thorne vows to himself that he will try to put aside the many differences he has with Alecta and attempt to see the world for what it truly is.

...

Thorne wakes up when something is thrown on him. He frantically opens his eyes, extremely confused as he looks around the room to five waiting people watching him. Sitting up, he holds onto the clothes that an old lady tossed on his chest.

Rescanning the room, he sees the four men from last night but not Alecta. However when the old lady speaks, he gets quite a shock, "Hurry up and put those on. We have a lot of work to do and time is of the essence," Alecta says.

He rubs his eyes, taking another look at her—had she not spoken, he wouldn't have recognized her at all. She wears a pale blue dress with a white apron, like all of the servants in the castle. She seems to be quite a bit thicker around the middle, her face appears old and her tightly pulled back brown hair is now grey. "Goodness, that is impressive," he says, standing. Thorne can't help himself when he steps towards her to take a closer look, "If you're going to the castle, no one will ever recognize you."

"We," she says, correcting him, "Now hurry up, there is a lot of work to be done on you."

"What?" He says, confused. Thorne takes a closer look at the clothes in his hands; a white shirt, brown pants and pale blue vest that matches her dress, "Now just wait a minute, I can't—" he doesn't know what to say. Can't what? He thinks to himself, Can't work? Can't be humble? Can't be a servant?

Alecta waits for a response—instead of giving one, Thorne sighs and retreats behind the changing screen to switch out his clothes.

When Thorne comes out, Basil pats a chair, "Come, sit. Let me work my magic."

Thorne is very reluctant to let Basil trim his hair or beard. It takes a lot of explaining, on both parts but in the end Thorne's beard is cut back a bit and his hair is trimmed to shoulder length and then pulled back. While Basil applies a light dusting of facial powder to Thorne's hair, to make it appear grey, Thorne scowls in the mirror.

"I am not so sure why you're upset, you looked pretty ratty to be honest," Alecta tries to offer.

Thorne's scowl turns to her, "Only royalty are allowed to have their hair long. In fact, with your hair as long as it is, one might think you were a Lady."

"I am a lady," she snips.

"No, I mean, yes, I know you are a lady but I meant a Lady," he tries to clarify.

Alecta gives him an irritated look, "A lot has changed in the past hundred years. While you and your townsfolk might not know, no one really cares how long your hair is. In fact, come to think of it, most royalty sport shorter hair and clean faces. Usually the only unshaven ones you see are the poor, because they don't have the time or means to get it done."

Thorne nods, trying to understand but still finds it hard as he feels like his social status just got revoked, "What are we doing anyways?"

"We are going back into the servant's quarters to collect some information," she says.

"Why the servant's quarters? Wouldn't it make more sense to go for the King or Queen?"

She looks at him, "Yes, it would, however rumor has it that after you woke up you went directly to the King and started ranting at him, which is how you got kicked out of the castle, isn't it?"

Thorne purses his lips, "No, I went to my father to ask him why the hell I was in the servants' quarters. It isn't like I knew their memories were stolen."

Alecta rolls her eyes, grabbing an apron. Thorne follows her towards the door, "Well, regardless, you ruined your chance at coming into contact with them. I'm not exactly thrilled about you coming to the castle with me to begin with but Kane seems to think that you might be able to spot something out of place," she whispers as they creep down the back stair case. It is well before dawn and no one is awake. The cool air hits their faces when they finally make it outside. Alecta walks quickly to make up time; Thorne has difficulty keeping up.

"What do I do? I might look like a servant but I don't think I can...fit the part," he tries to say gently.

She keeps her eyes straight ahead, "Dumb yourself down, you mean? I wouldn't worry about it too much; you'll be near me so you won't have to do much talking. Your best bet is to just agree with everything anyone has to say to you—regardless of your actual opinion, do you understand?"

He nods slowly, "I'll try. What are we doing anyways?"

Alecta turns past the front entrance and starts walking toward the west side of the castle. Even in the darkness, the shadows of dozens of workers form a beeline towards the servants' entrance, "Laundry," she finally replies.

"Laundry," Thorne reiterates, slightly irritated.

"And do your best to remove that tone from your voice," she snaps, giving him a sharp glare.

"What tone?" He says somewhat defensively.

"That tone that says you are too good, too wealthy to do anything for yourself."

He huffs, "I'd be better off just keeping my mouth shut."

"That's a splendid idea," she says sarcastically.

Even in an unfamiliar castle, Alecta easily finds the laundry area in the basement by following the herd of women in extra starchy uniforms. It is a vast, hot and miserable room; large fires burn under huge vats of boiling water, rope lines are stretched almost the entire length and are meticulously draped with sheets, pinned with napkins and table cloths with an entire section dedicated to the royal laundry. Slowly, Alecta weaves her way in and out of the rows, looking for the small open area full of wash basins. She singles out the head servant and makes her way over to her.

"Good morning, miss," she says softly, meekly.

"And who the hell are you?" The woman snaps.

"I'm Gertrude Alabaster, and this is me husband Franklin. Karen Jones—she is my neighbor, ma'am—she came down with a terrible sickness. Been vomiting all night, worried sick that she wouldn't be able to come to work. Said you needed all the help you could get, what with that wedding and all—so I says to her, that me and me husband would fill in for her 'til she get better."

"A bit old, aren't you?" She says, looking Alecta and her husband up and down.

"Seasoned, I like to call it," Alecta offers a shy smile.

"Eh," she looks her over once more, "On a normal day I would send you packing but Karen is right, we do need all the help we can get. With that damned wedding we will be washing until our hands bleed. Right, well, Gertrude, you're on the wash basin over there. Your husband Franklin can help out Will with the water. Got it?"

Alecta bows her head a little, "Yes, ma'am. Thank you, ma'am." Quickly she makes her way to the wash basin and begins to scrub some napkins.

Thorne, entirely out of his element, feels nervous. He isn't quite sure where to go, so he stays where he is standing. The woman snaps, "Well, get a move on! You don't get paid for standing around. Will is right there—now go!"

Thorne tries to mimic Alecta; he bows his head somewhat shamefully and scurries over to the man called Will. Will is around forty years old and he looks every day of it. He stirs one of the pots with a long wooden stick.

"Have you ever done laundry before?" He asks Thorne curiously.

Thorne shakes his head, "No, I just do...repairs," he says for a lack of anything else.

"Oh," he says slightly confused, "Well, when the laundry comes down here it all of it gets soaked in boiling water. After it is good and wet, we take it out like this," he says, while using the stick to lift out a table cloth, "and we put it in one of the ladies wash bins. Be careful not to splash or touch any of them with the laundry, because it is really hot and can burn them. There's another stick over there," he nods towards an empty kettle before wandering off with his hot laundry.

Alecta has been acting as long as she can remember but even for her it takes a tremendous amount of effort to keep the grin on her face suppressed—the thought of a Prince doing laundry with the servants is simply hilarious, "There is a lot of washing to do, because of the wedding?" She quietly asks the woman next to her.

"Oh lord, you don't know the half of it. Now that Prince Thorin," she says his name over dramatically, "is getting married, everything needs to be perfect. In fact—all of these table cloths are clean; the Queen demanded that they be rewashed so that they can look nice for the guests that are coming."

"Guests?" She says curiously.

"Didn't you hear," another lady pipes up, "An engagement party for the Prince. Two days from now. I heard that Ms. McKay—she's the head servant—told the Queen that rewashing every linen in the house would be 'an impossible, tiring feat.' Guess the Queen said 'They've been asleep for a hundred years—they don't need to rest.' Can you imagine?! The nerve!"

"Frankly, I'm surprised that the Prince is getting married at all," the first lady adds.

"Why is that? If a Prince asked me to marry him, I'd say yes in a heartbeat," Alecta says before a deep throaty laugh.

"Oh no, not this one," she says quietly, "He's..." she looks around to make sure no one can hear before she continues, "If any woman knew what we knew about him, she'd run for the hills as fast as her prissy feet could carry her. This one is just...awful. Downright mean. You know how them rich folks are, acting like they are all better than us—well he is the worse. With the way he acts you'd think that his shit was made out of gold."

The other lady bursts out laughing, "Don't let McKay hear that—she'll fire you for sure."

"It's true though, isn't it?" she says.

"Every word," the other lady confirms.

Alecta joins in there laughter. After a moment, she takes a peek at Thorne while he stirs the laundry—his face is bright red but the look in his eyes says that it isn't from the heat. He heard every word.

It is only four hours or so but it feels like an eternity, even for Alecta. As the other ladies take a break for lunch, she bids them farewell and heads out of the castle followed reluctantly by the limping Thorne.

After what those ladies said, he didn't speak another word; to his credit, he threw his anger into his work and pulled off a half convincing performance. But with the hitch in his step, it is obvious that he never worked as hard in his life.

"Your engagement party is in two days—that gives us tonight to come up with a plan and two days to execute it. We need to get invited to that party; I'd bet my right hand that Carabosse will be there to rub it in," she says quietly as they make their way back to the Inn. Forced to walk slower so that Thorne can keep up, they truly appear to be an elderly couple.

"Do I really come off that way?" He asks defensively. He doesn't need to elaborate anymore as Alecta knows exactly what he means. Her blank face answers his question. Thorne wants to be angry but after doing half of a servant's day of work, he is starting to gain a new understanding of their wretched lives. Though he is physically in good shape, his body toned and muscles defined, he finds that everything aches as he has never been forced to do much with it before.

"Listen, you were raised to be like that. Count your fortunes that you weren't born poor," she makes an ill attempt to pacify him, keeping her eyes forward so that she can avoid looking at him.

"Even you think so," he says. "Everyone in this town must hate me."

She doesn't have an answer, so she doesn't reply. As they continue on in silence, Thorne feels something that he hasn't ever felt before: guilt. He ponders on it for a moment, wondering why he feels so bad that he was born into a life of comfort and without want. It isn't until they finally near the Inn that he realizes he doesn't necessarily feel bad that he has more than others, he feels guilty that he thought the value of a person was measured in tangible possessions. To think that he believed a person's worth could be measured in silver or gold makes him feel completely stupid. The men and women who serve in the castle work their fingers to the bone only to pacify the ungrateful, yet they find time to laugh and motivation to continue existing. He can't think of a time in his life where he was ever motivated to do a fraction of the work they did today and was still in a decent mood.

Instead of walking through the front doors of the Inn, Alecta leads him to the back and into the stable. Seeing them pass by, the horses eagerly poke their heads out, looking for a treat. Alecta opens the gate to the last stall, closing it behind Thorne so that no one can see in. In the corner, under a pile of straw she reveals a small trunk, from which she pulls out regular looking clothing for them. Handing Thorne his, she begins to remove her own. After shedding the apron, it isn't until she starts unbuttoning her dress that Thorne turns around embarrassedly.

"What are you doing?" He asks.

"I'm changing; you need to, too," after removing the outer dress, she undoes the rope that holds her padding in and pulls it out.

"This isn't proper," he huffs, staring at the dingy wooden stall wall.

She slips on her pants and boots under the shift, "Oh for goodness sake, it isn't like I am naked, I have underclothes on," she says.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Thorne turns around at the exact moment that Alecta peels the shift off and over her head, exposing her bare back to him.

Upon seeing her pale white skin, his cheeks instantly burn red and he turns around again. He busies himself with undoing his padding and changing his shirt.

"Are you decent?" Basil's voice comes from outside the stall.

"No, I'm naked," Alecta quips.

"Oh, goody, I'm coming in," he says excitedly only to be disappointed by two fully dressed adults, "you are such a liar. And a thief." Basil says with a fake pouty face.

"Hurry up, I'm famished," Alecta replies as Basil comes after her with a bucket of water and a wet rag.

Carefully he wipes the makeup from her face and her hair leaving a familiar sight behind. He starts to work on Thorne, "What's the word?"

She cracks a smile, "There is to be an engagement party in two days. Looks like it is a Remington."

"Aw really?" Basil whines, "Why not a Montage?" He finishes with Thorne and continues chatting with her as if he isn't even there. They walk out of the stable, Thorne following behind them as if he were a third wheel.

"Because Montage didn't cause a prison break."

"Oh," he says thoughtfully, her plan making sense in his head, "And what about him?" he nods towards Thorne, "A brother?"

Alecta looks at Thorne, appraising him carefully as she lingers on the porch outside of the Inn, "No, his hair is too dark."

"A lover?" Basil taunts her.

Thorne shifts awkwardly, trying to understand what they are talking about.

She crinkles her nose at Basil as if in disgust, "A cousin, at best." She opens the door and leaves them.

He shakes his head, "Too bad. For you, that is," he says to Thorne.

"I don't understand," Thorne replies, irritated.

Basil grins, "She acts the part very well."

"What part?" He demands, following him inside.

"The lover," Basil chuckles to himself.

Thorne can feel his face flush, even though he doesn't know what they are talking about.

...

The whole group takes lunch in their room. Thorne, Aiken, Jasper and Basil all sit at the table while Kane and Alecta perch on the turned around arm chairs. Though still served in a bowl, their meal is roasted beef on a bed of mashed potatoes with some cooked carrots mixed in.

Alecta leads the discussion, legs folded under her with her bowl balanced in her lap. "Purple, I like purple," Alecta says to Jasper, "And I'm thinking for the gift we will need the Desert Beauty—remember that nag and foal we saw in the woods? They'd work well."

Jasper nods in agreement, jotting down notes on a scrap piece of paper with one hand while eating spoonfuls of potato with the other. They might as well be speaking in a foreign tongue because Thorne doesn't understand a bit of it. The most that he has been able to piece together is that he is a cousin to someone and that they will somehow be attending the engagement party.

"Aiken, you'll be on guard," she continues despite his groan, "Kane on chaperone. And Basil..." she taps her chin as if thinking, "I suppose you could Montage but you'll need to understand that you are a part of my party, which means I'm in charge—got it?"

Basil slightly bounces in his seat in excitement, playfully punching Aiken in the arm. Aiken shoots him a dirty look, "Why can't I Montage? I don't want to be on guard."

"Because you are as massive as an ox and have the same manners to boot, plus you can't act," Kane jabs at him. Everyone bursts out laughing, except Aiken and Thorne.

Alecta stands up and walks to him, playfully sitting in his lap; she taps his huge chest, "Because, Aiken, you are intimidating enough that none of the castle guards will bother you. And if you are good, perhaps we could work a Robin Hood in. There are always a few extra skirts wandering around."

Aiken breaks a smile, "Oh all right."

They continue chattering on for a while. Thorne finishes up his meal, finally getting frustrated with all of the inside conversation, "Excuse me," he cuts in. Everyone turns to look at him as he continues, "Do you mind letting me in on the damned plan? This is my life after all—not some stupid heist!" He can feel his face heat up with anger, his fists begin to ball up. He doesn't understand their excited giddiness considering what is at stake.