A/N: Welcome to A Story Never Told! This story was originally written six years ago with the intention of hopefully turning it into a published novel. As that never happened, I thought the next best thing would be putting it on here for you all to enjoy.
Summary: The daughter of Jack and Jill (yes, that Jack and Jill), Winifred Nimble is a normal seventeen year old living with her parents in the kingdom of Loken. When her best friend goes to a ball and becomes engaged to the crown prince, Winnie ends up joining her friend on the journey to the capital, accompanied by a boy from her past who has grown up to be an irritatingly handsome man. But when all is said and done, will any of them find the happy endings they were looking for?
Chapter 1: To Fetch a Pail of Water
Winifred Nimble clattered down the stairs, fully dressed, her stomach rumbling. The smells that had drifted up to her loft bed had called her down the stairs before her mother could say anything, and Winnie could recognize the smell of The Black Sheep's strawberry pastries anywhere. Ever since she could remember, her mother would get up early and walk down to The Black Sheep bakery and buy their breakfast. While it may seem costly, it was worth the expense—Jill Nimble was renowned for her inability to bake, and her husband was not about to let her burn down their only home—a cabin in the middle of Parisa Forest.
Jill Nimble smiled at her seventeen year old daughter's quick descent, her smile slipping off her face as Winnie quickly snagged a pastry off the colorful tray and moved towards the door, her orange tiger cat Cate hanging over her arm, green eyes closed in contentment as she purred. The purring abruptly stopped as Winnie set Cate down at the door, giving her a slight pat and nudging her out the door with her foot. Looking highly affronted, Cate sauntered out into the forest, her ears pricking at the sounds of early-morning birdcall.
"Winnie," Jill called after her daughter just as she stepped over the threshold, "where are you going?"
In response, the red-headed girl stopped, whirling to fix her mother with a pleading pout.
"Please, Mama," she implored her mother, "I promised Roselyn I would meet her at Elsa's Jewels. She was invited to a ball in Ibbot, and I promised I would help her find the perfect set of jewels."
"She was invited to a ball in Ibbot?" Jill repeated, distracted by this news. Ibbot was the capital of their kingdom, and it was strange that a common girl like Roselyn Lanton would be invited from a small town like Satuton, no matter how beautiful she may be. Jill rubbed her fingers against her cheek, belatedly remembering that she had just been handling sticky pastries. From Winnie's smile, Jill knew she had succeeded in smearing jam across her face again.
She was searching for a towel when she heard the back door slam. "Stay where you are," she warned her daughter, who looked as if she was about to flee again. Winnie sighed and moved back into the room, knowing she had lost. "I understand that the ball in Ibbot is an exciting thing," Jill explained to her daughter, turning towards the back of the house, "but let's see what your father has to say."
Winnie sighed again but obeyed, shifting impatiently from one foot to the other. A moment later, Jack Nimble strode into the room, carrying an empty tin pail and frowning. "The pump is broken again," he informed his wife, setting down the pail down with a thump and smiling at the sight of the pastries.
Jill frowned, moving forward to brush her husband's cheek with her sugar-and-paint stained fingers. Jack smiled down at her and wrapped an arm around her waist, his green eyes bright in his tanned face. His wood-roughened hands were gentle as he tipped her chin up and gently kissed her. A cleared throat from their daughter brought them back to the present, and the two owners of Nimble Candlesticks found themselves staring into the disapproving brown eyes of their impatient teenager.
"Don't worry," Jack assured Jill in response to her worried glance at the empty pail, "we'll just have to go to the well in town and live with that water for awhile until I can let Rudy know the pump is broken. It won't be as good as our spring water, but we can make do."
"I'll go with you," Jill told him, moving to the closet and pulling out three more tin pails. Winnie groaned, and Jill frowned at her daughter she moved back to her husband's side.
"Can it wait?" Winifred wanted to know.
"Winnie," Jill scolded, "you know that unless we have water, an entire day goes to waste."
Although Winnie wanted to argue, wanted to point out that she was wasting time while Roselyn waited for her, she knew her parents had a valid argument. They were owners of Nimble Candlesticks, a branch of Jack's family business, and, as the name suggested, they made intricate painted candlesticks. Jack might not need water for his wood carvings, but once he finished carving, it was his wife who painted them, using eggshells and water to dilute and change her colored paints.
Seeing that she had no more arguments, her parents gathered their pails and moved past her towards the door. Winnie watched them go, wondering how she could get word to Roselyn that she would be late.
"If we see Roseyln, we'll tell her that we asked you to stay home," Jill assured her daughter, and Winnie nodded sullenly.
"Are you going to be all right here alone?" Jill asked her daughter in concern, her blue eyes shadowed. At the worry in her absent-minded mother's voice, Winnie put aside her anger for a moment and stepped into her mother's arms, reaching around to pull two small paintbrushes out of her mother's red-gold bun, where Jill had undoubtedly absently placed them while she did some pre-dawn painting before breakfast.
"I'll be fine," Winnie assured her mother, leaning against the doorframe. "You've left me alone before, for less important things than a few pails of water."
Jill nodded, but Winnie could tell that she still felt uneasy. Jack, however, had full confidence in his daughter, and was already halfway down the path.
He waited for Jill to catch up, and just as she did, he remembered what he wanted from his daughter. "Winnie," he called back, "will you go visit your grandmother and ask Rudy for more wood? I'm getting low on supplies!" When his daughter nodded, her wavy red hair bouncing around her face, he added, "Tell him that he needs to fix the pump while he's here! Make sure he doesn't forget!"
Winnie's laugh and wave was all he received, but Jack knew that she would do as he asked. Although she could twist both him and his wife around her little finger, Winnie still did as she was told. Taking Jill's hand, Jack smiled at his wife. "Everything will be fine," he murmured to her, squeezing her hand when he noticed the uneasy look had not passed from her face.
Winnie watched her parents walk down the path, two pails each and hand in hand. Once they had disappeared, she groaned and leaned back against the doorframe.
"I can't leave the forest and go to town, but I can go to Grandma's?" She asked Cate, who lay in the doorway, curled up in a patch of dawning sunlight. Noticing the chill that the sun had not managed to chase away yet, Winnie returned to the kitchen, finally lifting her pastry to her lips. Finishing it in five easy bites, she brushed the crumbs and sugar off her favorite pair of black pants and green shirt. Smoothing down the embroidery at the hem and the cuffs, Winnie climbed the stairs, shivering at the cool breeze that floated through the house—she had left the door open. The girl picked up the empty leather satchel she always carried with her when she went to her grandmother's house, along with her belt. Unsheathing the knife that rested on the belt, Winnie inspected it, making sure it did not need to be sharpened.
Satisfied, she finished preparing for her short trip by donning her cloak. Made of the softest black velvet, her mother had made the cloak for Winnie on her fifteenth birthday, two years ago. The underside of the cloak was made of a dark scarlet velvet, and while Winnie feared that the color would clash against her hair, Jill had assured her many times that the color was flattering.
Relocating Cate from the doorway to the path earned her a scratch for her pains, but Winnie ignored the stinging of the cut and her hissing cat, locking the door behind her and slipping the iron key on its chain around her neck. Cate stalked off, annoyed, but Winnie did not worry about her pet—she had left the small window in the roof open, affording her cat an entrance to the house.
The forest was quiet as Winnie made her way towards her grandmother's house. Although her grandmother used to live in Satuton, she had relocated to Parisa Forest in order to be closer to her daughter and her daughter's family. There was nothing to fear from this forest.
The small cabin was quiet when Winnie approached it, which struck her as strange—at the very least, the sound of an ax splitting wood would have been heard, for Rudy was not known for sleeping late.
Pushing on the door, Winnie was relieved to find it unlocked—if it had been otherwise, she would have worried. Entering the cabin, which opened immediately into a sitting room and a kitchen beyond, Winnie was surprised to find her grandmother sitting in the early-morning half-light. Dropping her cloak, satchel and belt in a basket next to the door—her grandmother forbid weapons beyond the door, saying that weapons were for the dangers of the outside world, not the world of warm family comforts—and stepped into the darkened room, leaving the door open in her surprise.
"Grandma?" Winnie called, stepping closer and noticing that her grandmother's eyes widened at the sight of her. "What are you doing?"
"I was watching the sunrise, Winifred." The response was so unlike her active, bright grandmother that Winnie stopped in her tracks, a shiver racing down her spine. It was her grandmother's voice, and her grandmother's willowy form in the chair, but her grandmother was never one to sit idle. More importantly, Winnie knew, her grandmother never called her by her full name.
Resisting the urge to turn away as she noticed her grandmother scrutinizing her, Winnie forced herself a few steps closer. "What is it, grandma?"
"Nothing, dear." Her grandmother's voice was closer to its normal tones, and Winnie relaxed, wondering if her grandmother was coming down with a cold, that an illness was prompting this strange behavior. "I had forgotten how beautiful you've become."
Suddenly, Winnie's grandmother stood, extending her arms towards her granddaughter. "Now, are you going to properly greet your grandmother?" She asked, and Winnie moved closer, the words familiar but something else feeling out of place. As she stepped into her grandmother's arms, Winnie stiffened, realizing that her grandmother's normal scent was missing. Her grandmother always smelled of lilac perfume, the same scent she used when she was a young actress, the beloved star of every stage in the kingdom. While her grandmother smelled faintly of lilacs now, there was a darker, earthy musk that lingered underneath, making Winnie edgy, not understanding why things were so strange.
Stretching up, Winnie obediently moved to kiss her grandmother's cheek, but stopped midway, realizing that her grandmother had never seemed so tall before. She glanced at the older woman, puzzled.
"Something wrong, dear?" Her grandmother's voice was soft, coaxing, and Winnie shook her head, pushing the strange thought out of her head and attempting to complete her original task.
She might have succeeded, if a pair of lips had not come to rest of hers just as she moved to press a light kiss to her "grandmother's" cheek.
A stranger held her, Winnie was sure of this now, and she struggled, ignoring the warm feel of lips against her mouth, panic flaring. Her grandmother was not here, and this stranger had waited for her! Wishing desperately for her knife, which she had left at the door, Winnie struggled, shoving against her captor and attempting to twist away from him.
Suddenly, blinding sunlight poured over the two, and a familiar voice called out: "That is not how we greet family in this house!"
To Winnie's relief, the man released her immediately, and she stumbled backwards, glaring and wiping her mouth. The man's amber eyes glowed in the sunlight, and he chuckled at her actions, stepping forward to finger a lock of her loose red hair.
"Fooled you, did I, Red?"
Only one person called her that. "Wolf," Winnie snarled, low and furious, backing farther away, intent on reaching her knife and teaching him a lesson. "I don't know what game you decided to play, but when my grandmother returns-"
"I'm here!" Winnie's grandmother announced, sailing forward from her place next to the large window, where she had pulled the curtains away to allow the sunlight to stream onto the wooden floor.
Wrapping an arm around her shaking granddaughter, Abigail Allen chastised the smirking young man across from her, who was currently slipping off his wig and wiping his face to rid himself of the makeup he clearly wore.
"Wolfgang," Abigail told him, sounding as if she were scolding a child, "I told you that we would consider your training finished if you could fool my granddaughter. After that display, you have shown that you cannot keep yourself in the mind of your character."
Wolfgang tried to look contrite and failed. "I'm sorry, Abigail," he told the imposing woman, shaking his long black hair out of his face, "but I couldn't help myself." He smirked at Winnie, winking, while all Winnie could do was glare, still not understanding why her grandmother allowed this man in her house. "She's was cute when we were little, and you told me she was beautiful now, but I wasn't expecting…" He trailed off and eyed Winnie appreciatively, causing the young woman to cross her arms over her chest and wish she had a blanket to drape over herself.
"I warned you," Abigail chuckled proudly, squeezing Winnie's shoulder while her granddaughter gaped, flabbergasted.
"Grandma!" She protested, glaring at Wolfgang.
"Don't be embarrassed, dear," her grandmother reassured her, smiling, her green eyes sparkling with laughter. "It's true."
"Grandma!" Winnie wailed, mortified, feeling a blush creep up her neck to envelope her face.
Wolfgang's gaze followed the path of her blush, and before she could stop him, he had sauntered forward to brush his fingers against her cheek, smirking down at her. Winnie leaned away from his touch, staring at him. At this close proximity, she could not deny that he had grown a handsome man, if not a detestable one: Wide cheekbones gave way to a narrow chin and strong mouth, and his amber eyes glowed in the sunlight. His shaggy black hair hung around his shoulders, and his deceptively tall and lean body did nothing to hide the strength he obviously carried in his muscular form.
He had been a gawky boy, Winnie remembered, with dark hair that would never stay combed, and he had a way of teasing her that always made her blush and snap, embarrassed by his attention in a way she couldn't explain. He had been gone from town for the last several summers, helping his father with the family's smithing business, and Winnie hadn't really seen much of him or missed him. He had been a nuisance in her childhood, and she hadn't even realized he was back in town.
"Your blush matches your hair perfectly," he leered at her, chuckling as she glared. He was unprepared for her slap, the sound of it echoing into silence as he stumbled backwards, watching her with shocked surprise and finding her wearing a matching expression.
"Winifred!" Before Winnie could do anything, or process anything other than the fact that she had slapped Wolf, her grandmother had grabbed her hand, squeezing it until she could feel the bones grinding against each other. Grimacing, Winnie turned to find her grandmother glaring at her, her green eyes flashing with disappointment and anger.
"What have I told you about slapping guests in my home?" Abigail drew herself up, using her best "imperious actress" tones, watching as her granddaughter turned shocked brown eyes to her, her mouth dropping open into a surprised O.
"Your guest?" She whispered, looking contrite for a moment before remembering whom her grandmother was referring to and shooting a glare at Wolfgang. "Grandma, it's Wolf! He's not a guest! You've known him since we were four! Did you see what he did?"
"I did," Abigail confirmed, "He was not supposed to kiss you, he was supposed to fool you into thinking that he was me." She pursed her lips and frowned again at Wolfgang. "He did not do well."
Winnie stared at her grandmother, feeling her shame and embarrassment turn to anger. "You don't find it wrong that he kissed me?"
"Yes, that was wrong." Her grandmother returned patiently, abandoning her hold on Winnie to gather up Wolfgang's makeup and costume. "He should know better." She frowned at her newest student.
Wolfgang grinned at both of them, unrepentant. "I couldn't help myself," he added, wrapping an arm around Winnie's waist.
Winnie couldn't get away from him fast enough. Wriggling away and moving to her grandmother's side, the girl stared at the strange man whom Abigail seemed to tolerate, and even like, a man who had replaced the annoying boy she had known.
"Stop teasing the girl," Abigail scolding, wrapping an arm around Winnie's shoulders and leading her forward. "Winnie, I would like you to meet my newest acting student, Wolfgang Lothar. Wolfgang, I believe you have already met my granddaughter, Winifred Nimble."
"Why are you introducing us? I know him."
Abigail gave her a stern look. "We're turning over a new leaf. All of us." She frowned as Winnie rolled her eyes, unimpressed. At her grandmother's nudge, Winnie put her hand out slowly. With a smirk, Wolfgang brought it to his lips, brushing the briefest of kisses against the back of her hand.
"Call me Wolf, Red, all my friends do."
"I am not your friend," Winnie snapped back, snatching her hand away. The warning squeeze of Abigail's hand told her to behave, and she gave him a strained smile, turning away as soon as her grandmother released her.
"Where's Rudy?" She asked her grandmother, remembering why she had come in the first place and using any excuse to ignore Wolfgang—Wolf?
As if her words had summoned him, Rudolph Selwyn appeared in the doorway, his large frame completely filling it. For such a large man, he moved lightly over to Abigail's side, kissing her cheek and smoothing a loose white curl from her forehead before turning to his lover's granddaughter.
"How are you, Winnie?" He boomed, scooping her up in a hug that always seemed to crush the air from her lungs instantly.
"I've been better," Winnie growled when she could breathe again, once again glaring at Wolf. To her annoyance, the lean man merely smirked at her, clearly unapologetic for what he had done.
Rudy laughed at the exchange of glances, his gray hair threatening to escape its horsetail as he did so. "I see you've met Abbi's new student," he said, still chuckling.
Annoyed, Winnie changed the subject, eager to get away from Wolf. "Papa said the pump was broken this morning," she told the large man, "and he asked me to come and ask you to fix it."
"Yes, he mentioned that when we saw him in town," Abigail jumped in, folding up Wolf's costume. "We saw Jack and Jill at the well. They were getting water, and they told us that the pump was broken, and that Jack needed wood. When we finished at Nimble Candles, he was talking to some rough-looking men." Abigail shook her head in affectionate exasperation, thinking of her son-in-law. "He could make friends with anyone."
"What were you doing in Nimble Candles?"
"We were looking at your mother's latest pieces," Abigail told her granddaughter with a proud smile.
"Jack told you he needed more wood?" Rudy phrased it as a question, and Winnie nodded, moving to the door to replace her belt at her waist—shooting a quick glance at Wolf as she did so—before shouldering the satchel and draping her cloak over her arm.
"It was good to see you, Grandma," Winnie told the older woman sincerely, wrapping her arms around her grandmother's waist and inhaling the woman's true scent of lilacs. Abigail returned the embrace.
"It was nice of you to stop by, dear," she told the girl. Satisfied, Winnie broke the embrace and turned around, only to be met by Wolf on her way towards the door, his arms outstretched and a smile on his face.
"Wolfgang." Winnie gave him a curt nod and slid around him, her hand on her belt knife.
"No hug for me?" He called after her as she left the house. When he received no response, he tried again. "If you won't hug me, how about a kiss?" Silence answered him, and he laughed, his amber eyes sharp with interest as he watched her disappear from view.
Winnie had heard his final statement, but she would not dignify it with an answer as she escaped the temporary madhouse her grandmother's house had turned into for the relative safety of Rudy's wood yard.
Each student is worst than the last, Winnie found herself musing, remembering with a flush of anger the way Wolf had dared to look at her. Although she had had to tolerate some strange things in her grandmother's house, she wondered Abigail had finally lost what little sense she normally had. None of the other students Winnie had come in contact had ever been allowed by Abigail to try and impersonate her in order to fool Winnie. Abigail had always made it clear that Winnie should be involved as little as possible. Although she was the granddaughter of a famous actress, Winnie had no interest in the theater.
Abigail Allen had once been the most sought-after actress in all of Loken. With her blonde hair, stunning green eyes, tall, curving figure and talent for performing, she had even been offered a place in the Royal Performing Troupe by the king himself, who had been smitten with her. Abigail had turned him down, returning to the small town of Satuton where she had grown up. Finding that her daughter Jill had married a candlestick-maker in her absence, she moved into the Parisa Forest to be closer to her remaining kin. Soon after, she had met Rudy and moved in with him, convincing him to expand their home so she could board the many students that came to find her in her small home, begging her to teach them. After many pleading letters from the officials of the town, she agreed to open a small acting school in her house in the forest, boarding one or two aspiring actors at a time, spending her remaining time as a playwright for the local performing troupe.
The low, rhythmic thump of an ax splitting wood dragged Winnie back to the present, and she rounded the corner of the house, leaning against wood that was stacked over her head. She knew better than to move closer; she had been lectured many times by Rudy for coming too close while the chips of wood were flying. There was a pause in the chopping, and Winnie approached, nodding her thanks when Rudy motioned to a small pile of wood, split into small rounded logs. Recognizing Rudy's need for silence while he worked, Winnie gathered up the wood, placing it carefully in her satchel before shouldering the familiar weight.
Her own home looked inviting as Winnie trudged up the path, but something struck her as odd. It was too quiet. Her parents should have been back long before now—it was not a long walk to town, and it didn't take an hour to fetch water, did it?
Cate brushed against her mistress' ankles, purring as Winnie approached, but Winnie gently nudged her cat aside and unlocked the door, wondering why she did not hear the familiar sounds of her mother humming, or her father singing bits of folk songs as he worked. The clearing seemed sadly empty without them, and Winnie suppressed a shudder, the uneasy feeling that something was once again wrong. She had had enough things go wrong today, hadn't she?
Her mind full of what she would tell Roselyn when she finally saw her friend that afternoon, Winnie pushed open the door. Her mother's voice did not greet her, and Winnie stepped inside, puzzled. Dropping her things at the foot of the stairs in a jumbled heap, she looked around, closing the door absently behind her, nearly catching Cate's tail in the process. Cate hissed and shot across the room, but Winnie wasn't paying attention. The house was quiet, and she didn't like it.
"Mama?" She called, glancing around for any sign of either of her parents. Footsteps from her parent's bedroom had her turning towards the small hallway, and she breathed a sigh of relief as she noticed her father approaching her, his face in shadow. "Papa…"
"Winnie."
Winnie stopped short, recognizing the voice but not understanding. "Uncle George?"
George Nimble stepped into the room, his blue eyes red-rimmed, as if he had been crying. His dark hair was identical to Jack's, although he had a few more gray hairs.
"What are you doing here, Uncle George?" Winnie asked curiously, unsure why her day was so strange. All she had wanted to do was go shopping with her best friend, but it seemed that Fate had other plans for her.
In answer, her uncle opened his arms. Winnie went to him immediately, needing a hug and some reassurance after such a strange morning.
"Winnie," her uncle sighed, his voice rumbling in his chest under her ear.
"Where are my parents?" Winnie asked, suddenly not sure if she wanted an answer.
"Winnie..." her uncle's voice broke. "I'm here because of your parents."
"What's wrong?" Winnie demanded, her voice rising in agitation.
George brushed her red hair out of her face, tears welling in his eyes. "I have some bad news, Winnie."
"What happened?" Winnie cried, stiffening at the sight of her strong uncle with tears misting his gaze.
George pulled her closer, feeling her body stiffen with fear. His face crumpled with grief as he answered her honestly, his voice cracking as he delivered the news that would shatter her world.
"Winnie, your parents were killed."
A/N: Reviews are always appreciated!