Author's Note: Hey! So I didn't originally have any plans to continue this but when I got such an open prompt for one challenge and such a fairytale oriented one for the other well, I couldn't resist. I'm actually considering making it into a 4 part series. Thoughts?

Anyway for those of you who have no idea what I'm on about, the first part of this little saga is called The Queen. I would recommend reading it, because it's really quite good, but this can stand alone as a one-shot should you wish to just read that.

s / 11872105 / 1 / The-Queen

Prompts:

Fairytale OWL: (2000 word min.)

Little Red Riding Hood - An 'evil Queen'/A 'huntsman'

Cinderella - 'ugly sisters'/A 'wicked stepmother'

QLFC Round 3: Team Prompt: 'Cannon'. Word Count Prompt: 2751-3000

Word Count: (minus A/N) 2767

Disclaimer: I don't own anything that you recognise!

The Huntsman

"Bring me her heart."

Regulus took a deep breath of cold, stale air. The thick, stone wall was rough against his back, but the solid feel of it grounded him. It had been only a few minutes since he had escaped the throne room, but it felt like a lifetime. He knew time wasn't on his side and that he had little choice but to carry out Queen Bellatrix's demands, or forfeit his own life.

Regulus's fingers dug into the stone behind him as if he could sink through the stone and escape the terrible duty that had been forced upon him. The princess, she was so young, so beautiful, and so innocent. The idea that she had become 'loose of morals' was more than laughable, but the Queen obviously thought her stepdaughter had become a danger.

"Bring me her heart."

He scrunched his eyes tightly, trying desperately to banish the haunting echo those words imprinted on his brain, but he could not silence the smug voice and he could not rid himself of the image of the Queen. She had lounged so gracefully, in her beautiful golden gown, draped across the throne like the regal figurehead she was. Her skin pale, her lips red and thick, luscious curls bounced down around her shoulders. It was always hard to breathe in her presence, but as she had sat up, the beauty twisted. The once serene face changed, the gentle curves became sharp lines, and the red lips became a gruesome slash across her face.

He sighed, letting all of the air leave his body and releasing all the tension from his tight muscles. This was an impossible choice, one he was reluctant to make, but it had to be done. He was but one in the long line of Black men who had served as huntsman to the royal family of this kingdom; it would not do well to fail his heritage now.

Regulus allowed himself one last second of weakness, of resistance, before he pushed away from the wall. He clenched and released his fists, raised his head, and opened his eyes. A sense of calm trickled into his muscles and he regained his composure. Taking two even strides, he pushed open the heavy tapestry that hid his cubby-hole from the rest of the castle.

There was no more time for hiding.

X

Regulus chucked his large, full hunting bag onto the wooden counter, allowing the dull thunk and rattle to alert the owners of his presence. As he waited, Regulus glanced around the dark, shadowy shop taking in the racks and shelves laden with weaponry. The large and small leather bags hanging on the wall, the various survival equipment, and the large array of animal hides and heads that decorated every available wall space. Light filtered through the grimy windows, gleaming off well-sharpened blades, and the rickety door rattled in its frame.

"Goodness, it has gotten dark in here hasn't it."

"You're right, it's all Black and gloomy."

Regulus turned back and stared hard at the two young men behind the counter. They stared right back, dark humour coloured their eyes. It really was dark and gloomy in the shop, everything was brown, black and grey—even their clothes. They provided the only colour in the place, as they were both sporting a shock of ginger hair.

"You should watch your mouths, Weasleys. I hold the future of this little shop in the palm of my hand, and I know your little sister won't live long if you don't have any money to pay for her medicine."

Fred and George smirked at him—identical smirks laced with bitter anger and fierce protectiveness. Regulus knew he was baiting lions, but at the moment, he didn't care. He had gone straight back to the place where he was cool and suave. Regulus would do anything to please his Queen, even if that meant upsetting some peasant twins.

"I don't think our Huntsman is in the mood for our particular brand of witty banter today, Fred," said George without breaking eye contact.

"Perhaps he just can't keep up." Fred leaned forward to rest his forearms on the counter. He pierced Regulus with an unnerving stare. "Or perhaps his mood is related to his… unfortunate task."

"What do you know of my business?" Regulus narrowed his eyes as anger sharpened his tone. Out of habit, he reached down to grip the handle of his dagger, always prepared for any sort of danger.

Fred and George exchanged looks, and Regulus cursed silently for falling prey to the inquisitive and manipulative natures. He had walked straight into their trap and given them exactly what they wanted to know.

"What can we do for you today, Mr Huntsman?" Fred straightened up with a sickeningly smug expression on his face. Regulus clenched and unclenched the dagger, willing his blood to calm so that his dagger didn't end up in one of their throats. He needed them. They were a unique advantage with their creative experiments.

"What sort of weapon are you looking to purchase?"

"I need something... special. Something that will provide a quick death, minimum pain, accuracy. Price isn't a problem, you know that, and the Queen is particularly determined to have this prize, quickly." Regulus flicked his eyes between the two young men, with their vibrant hair, their quick eyes, and their deceiving tales. He didn't trust them, not really, but they were the closest things he had to friends in this line of work. No one wanted to be close to the Queen's puppy dog.

They looked at each other for a long time, silently conversing. It felt like forever in the too quiet shop but, eventually, they nodded quickly at each other. George whirled and disappeared through the door and into the back of the shop whilst Fred watched him with a tight smile that betrayed the uncertainty lurking in his eyes.

X

They called it a pistol. Some knew invention the pair had been working on in secret. It worked just like a cannon, but in miniature form. You lit the fuse, and once the powder ignited, a heavy little ball of lead shot out the hole and was propelled at high speed straight into your target.

Regulus preferred to think of it as a hand cannon, an instrument of war as much as death. Painting this whole situation as just another battle in another war made him feel a little more detached from it all. It made him feel like he wasn't about to murder and innocent young girl because her stepmother was a jealous old crone.

Regulus bit his tongue as if his thoughts might suddenly leap from his mouth and he might end up strung in the gallows.

The small, shiny black hand cannon was made from a thick, durable metal and hung heavily against his hip. He had never worn a weapon so dense, and it bumped into him with every step he took. It was a small comfort knowing that he had an option in all of this chaos, but it just reminded him that she was walking around the palace on borrowed time.

His trip to the throne room was disturbingly like deja-vu. It had been only two days since Queen Bellatrix had demanded that he bring him her heart, and now he had been summoned again. A small part of him hoped she had changed her mind and would release him from this terrible burden.

The two emotionless, gilded guards who flanked either side of the massive throne room doors straightened slightly when he rounded the corner. They stared straight ahead until he came to a stop. With surprising unity, they turned and reached for the giant handles, swinging the door open in one smooth motion.

Light flooded from the throne and Regulus squinted, momentarily blinded. He made his way forward, his vision adjusting, and came to a halt in front of the raised dais. Without looking at his Queen or Princess, Regulus dropped to one knee, head bowed. The intricate tiling swam before his eyes and his heart pounded.

"Rise, Huntsman."

The Queen's voice was sweet, laced with honey and innocence. The beautiful Queen had returned to replace the twisted, jealous monster from just a few days before, and for a moment, Regulus could almost convince himself that she was as serene as she appeared to be. Regulus rose slowly, maintaining his respectful aura, and looked at the women in front of him.

Bellatrix sat upon her golden throne, the King's seat looked smaller and more mundane next to her splendour. She really didn't need anyone to rule by her side. She was regal and resplendent in a silken gown dyed the deep, rich colour of red wine. Golden embroidery laced through the collars and cuffs and sparkled down the wide skirt. Her thick, dark hair was piled upon her head, with a golden crown nestled atop her brow. This left the wide expanse of her pale neck and creamy skin exposed, and the eye was automatically drawn to the string of rubies laced into a choker that adorned her throat like a bloody gash.

She was breathtaking. There was not a man alive, or even a few women, who could not look upon the soft, regal beauty of this woman and be knocked over. Hers were looks to kill and, though her tone was full of sugar, as Regulus looked up into her face, her eyes were full of spice.

"How may I be of service, Your Majesty?" Regulus murmured, trying to keep his eyes focused on the Queen so that he could ignore the delicate Princess beside her. Behind Bellatrix, her two lady's maids giggled and preened like silly girls, fluttering like overstuffed parrots, but they served as a suitable distraction for his eyes.

Lady Lavender, the daughter of a Duke, was a tall, slim girl with pale skin, big eyes and a mass of golden hair. Blues or reds would have most suited her, to bring out her eyes or offset her hair, but by some horrible twist of fate she was, today, dressed in orange. The bright, garish colour did nothing to complement the over-sized skirt of tulle and fluff, but from the way the girl was making eyes at him, Regulus could only assume she didn't realise how sickly she looked in the ensemble. Beside her, Lady Parvati, one of the daughters of the Marquis of Hogsmeade, had obviously noticed the terrible clash of skin and gown, throwing cruel smirks at her 'friend' when the former wasn't looking. Lady Parvati had taken advantage of her exotic heritage and had dressed to impress with a simple gown of lilac offset by her thick, dark hair, which had been woven with jewels and flowers. Despite her lower rank in society, Regulus had no doubt believing that it would be Parvati picked first to dance at a ball.

"I have a special job for you today, Huntsman," the Queen continued as Regulus made his observations. "I need you to escort our dear Princess through the woods to the village." Regulus flicked his eyes back to the Queen, noting the wicked shine in her eyes. "You see, our soldiers are out on patrols, and Hermione, well she is such a dear, that she wants to go and help the villagers. Food, blankets, you know the sort of thing, and, well," Bellatrix paused here, one delicate hand came to rest on her chest and her eyes became as round as plates, her voice breathy with concern, "you should know, Huntsman, that the woods are no place for a Princess to be all alone."

Regulus felt his throat tighten. "No," he replied, his voice hoarse, "of course not. No young girl should be alone in those woods, let alone a Princess. I will, of course, accompany her."

"Oh, thank you, Regulus!"

Regulus's head snapped to the side completely of its own accord. He found that his heart stopped, his head grew fuzzy, and all of a sudden Regulus realised exactly why the Queen felt so threatened by Princess Hermione.

She sat upon a smaller throne—silver painted rather than gold. Her thick, brown curls hung loose around her shoulders with a small, silver tiara nestled in the thick of it. She wore a simple gown of light pink. It was sewn through with thread that shimmered as she moved, but otherwise the Princess was unadorned. Her posture was perfect, her skin a light, healthy colour, her eyes sparkled warm and brown, and her pink lips framed a bright, happy smile. She was beautiful in a softer, more homely way than the Queen could ever hope to be; but it was not her beauty that made Hermione such a danger.

She had known his name. A name Regulus had not heard since he started working as the Huntsman. How she had learned it, he had no idea, but it made everything perfectly clear. Hermione would have the love of the people simply because she cared.

"I would have asked Prince Draco to escort me, but I understand that he is here on important state business so my dear stepmother has need of him." Hermione looked up at the Queen from her lower seat and smiled. It was an innocent smile, filled with warmth, kinship and even love, and it twisted painfully in Regulus's heart to see her gaze so happily on a woman who only wanted her dead.

"We can leave within the hour, Your Highness," Regulus said quietly. He nodded first to the Princess, who smiled back at him, and bowed to the Queen who gave him a determined look. Regulus knew what he had to do.

X

Regulus felt burned. Not by the gentle sunlight that filtered through the canopy of trees above him—a gentle breeze stole all uncomfortable heat from the air. He could not have imagined a more perfect day, a shame that it would be ruined. No, Regulus felt burned by the hand cannon that hung at his side.

He watched Princess Hermione all but skip along the path. She had long since dismounted from her mare, a gentle creature that followed obediently behind her mistress, determined to pick every wildflower she could find and distribute them to the villagers.

With every giggle, every flower, every smile that was brighter than the sun he felt the weight at his hip and in his heart grew heavier and the burn hotter. It was a duty that was becoming impossible to ignore. If he was going to do it, it had to be now. This was the deepest part of the woods; no one would hear her scream.

Regulus drew in a silent breath as he unclipped the metal weapon from his belt. It felt foreign in his hands, and it listed to one side as if it too was reluctant to perform the deed. Ahead of him the Princess had discovered another patch of beautiful flowers and was crouched down amongst them.

He lifted the pistol and took aim, trying to remember everything the brothers Weasley had told him. He breathed deeply, trying to regain some of that calmness that so characterised him. She was a deer, a piece of game. Not an innocent caught in a great spider's web. It would not stain his soul to steal this precious life. His hand began to shake, his finger tightening against the trigger. Something inside the contraption rattled, and Hermione's head turned.

Her face had always been an open book and Regulus watched as confusion, horror and fear flitted across her beautiful features. They settled finally on betrayal, and it cut him to the core. She had trusted him so completely with her life, and she had not even thought twice about his worthiness. He had watched her grow up from being a little girl. He had served her father.

His hand trembled harder but his finger grew stronger on the trigger. Duty and morality warred inside him, and tears stung at his eyes. His heart crawled up and sat as a lump in his throat knocking him sick. He looked into her eyes, seeing no judgement or condemnation. How she could still be so compassionate, so understanding, Regulus didn't know. It was fairly obvious he was here to kill her.

"I'm sorry, Princess," he choked out. The words tasted thick and pointless in his mouth. "The Queen, she— I'm sorry."

Hermione nodded, not breaking eye contact. "It's okay Regulus, I understand."

A shot rang out.

Please leave a review! Would it make a good 4 part series?

Much Love, MaryandMerlin x