After spending fifteen years among the mildew and rats in prison, Moth realizes just how lucky she is to still have her beautiful, voluminous blonde hair.

"What's up with you, sweet cheeks?" Momma asks Moth as she pulls up a chair at the Golden Egg, silvery locks cascading over her face. "You hidin' from someone?"

She almost gives an audible snort. Of course she's hiding from someone, she's hiding from everyone. She murdered the king fifteen years ago, of fucking course she's trying to hide from the public! Even though Mustardseed's generosity had provided her with a small house and meager salary instead of nothing, Moth still wanted a taste of her old life back. "No," she answers. "I'll have a Manhattan on the rocks."

Momma cocks an eyebrow but turns around and starts mixing the drink. "Nothing fruity for you tonight, huh?'

Moth snickers. "No."

"Well, whatever's gotcha down tonight will go away, honey," Momma says serenely, setting a glass with amber liquid and a maraschino cherry in front of Moth.

"Thank you," she mutters, taking a sip of the mix. Nothing as good as what the royal cooks could have made, but it would do. The stuff burns her throat on the way down, simultaneously cold and scorching hot. She shakes her head. Cheap whiskey.

The Golden Egg is quieter than usual tonight, not its usual bustle filled with impressively drunk fae shouting nonsense and generally being a public menace. The fireplace crackles warmly in the corner, and magical creatures of all sorts sit and mingle on the dark leather couches surrounding the fire. But despite that, it hasn't changed much, she reflects. The same tacky neon lights are still in operation, the same slow and mournful piano playing opposite the fireplace, the same subpar drinks and greasy food. Everything's the same.

Except for the new visitor.

The tavern doors slam open with a flurry of snow, and a man Moth has never seen before walks in.

He can't be much taller than 5'7", but his biceps clearly show through his tight leather jacket, his legs move with a fluidity and grace that Moth thinks could be classified as intimidating, but not quite, and the thick rubber soles of his boots clunk confidently on the wooden floor. When he sloughs off said jacket to reveal an equally tight white tank top, she notices both his arms are painted in tattoos from shoulder to fingertip. He takes a seat a few greasy chairs down from Moth and orders something inaudible in a deep voice. Another tattoo snakes up the side of his neck and part of his face, and ends at his harshly angular undercut of black hair.

Moth can feel the heat rushing up to her face, an unusual occurrence for her. She focuses on her Manhattan with a stony gaze and takes another sip. She's not going to let a boy keep hold of her emotions again. She laughs darkly. The last time that happened, she got arrested and look at her now, a princess to the shame of the kingdom.

But at the same time, she can't help but stare. Not that he's particularly handsome or anything, but because she knows everyone who is anyone in the Everafter community, and she doesn't know him. His profile is sharp and all lines and angles, no curves. His jawline is perfectly clean shaven and even his goddamn eyebrows are well groomed.

Clink. Moth whips back around in a hurry, her hair forming a silky blonde curtain around her face. "What's this?"

"The young man down there seems to have taken a likin' to ya," Momma says, displaying a flute of fairy alcohol. Moth inhales: it's not the cheap stuff she expected. She peers into the flute and narrows her eyes.

"I have nothing to do with him," she says curtly. A low chuckle startles her and she grabs the countertop in fright.

"Mon belle dame, you should have just said so," says the strange, tattooed man. His voice is low and gravelly but not altogether unpleasant. "I would have spent my money on another lonely lady."

"I'm not lonely," she snaps, "and I do not accept anyone's charity either, monsieur."

He chuckles. "And where do you come from, so rich that buying a lovely woman a glass of expensive, non mortal alcohol is considered charity?"

"That's none of your business."

"Is it now?" He laughs. He shifts in his seat and Moth can see the precise shade of green his eyes are, framed by stunningly long black lashes. "I'm Toby. Arachnid. You?"

Moth coughs. "Toby Arachnid? As in-"

"Exactly who you think, darling." He takes a second shot from Momma, licking his lips after draining the thing. "But who are you? I'll be damned if I know another blonde that's not Bella."

"I'm better than you," Moth answers, draining the rest of her drink.

Toby laughs, a deep, almost mocking sound. "Bugger that, I almost thought you were Cinderella."

"You must be blind if you couldn't tell the difference between that hag and me."

"My dear little butterfly, I kid. Or should I say," he says softly, his eyes flickering up to meet hers, scanning her face, "my dear little Moth."

Her fingers automatically reach for a flute on her hip that isn't there, and she curses in Fae. Toby laughs. "How do you know me?" she hissed.

"Darling, I haven't been living under a rock for the last twenty years of my life," Toby says. "I must say, it's an honor to meet you, princess." He bows and kisses her fingertips, his lips just barely brushing her knuckles. "I've heard so much about you." Twisted, yet sincere admiration fills his voice.

"Get away from me," she snarls.

"Well, if you insist," he says, smirking, and pulls away from her hand. "Though between the two of us, princess, we could do great things together. Both misfits. Humiliated. Proud. Some would even dare say a little bit arrogant."

She glares at him, but says nothing.

"We could do great things together," he repeats, winking. Moth flushes. Men.

"I'm not interested," she says, but the stutter in her voice betrays her.

"I'm only sharing, princess," Toby says. "We could build the world again like it was meant to be."

Tempting.

"What are you playing at, fool?" she demands.

"An offer," he says. "An offer to right all the wrongs in the world." He pulls one hand out of his leather jacket, turns around to see if Momma has her back to him, and turns to face Moth. Amidst his many tattoos is a black widow spider, but instead of an hourglass marking, a bright red handprint takes its place.

"What is that?" she asks coldly. "Why are you showing me this?"

"The Scarlet Hand. Join us, and you will never be here again. You'll have your power and your name back, my princess."

"Us?"

"A group of Everafters dedicated to making the world like it was supposed to be. Humans are filthy and stupid and fickle. Why should they be in charge? We have power that we refuse to harness. You could help us, princess."

She looks at him keenly but stays silent. He takes a small round looking glass out of his pocket. "I'm sure you know how this works," he says smoothly, pressing the glass into her hand. He hops off the bar stool and runs his fingers through his black hair, flexing his arms as he does so and puts his leather jacket back on.

"Well, adieu, mon petite princesse. I hope you'll think about my offer. 'Til we meet again." He winks at her and disappears out into the blizzard.

When he leaves, Moth drinks the fairy liquor and smiles. The looking glass grows warm in her palm.

fin.

disclaimer: you know the drill. i also don't own the lyrics in the title.

curlscat gets partial blame for this because she introduced me to the concept of tattooed toby and i kind of...spiraled into this pit of sin. sorry guys. and then i had the GENIUS idea to make him and moth a thing because apparently i cannot get enough of my evil couples. sorry x2.

so a couple of things. first of all, toby speaks a little french because i looked up the origins of the little miss muffet rhyme and it either originated in england or france so...he speaks french. second of all, i know moth doesn't join the scarlet hand, but i wanted a bit of a canon divergence here because i could totally see her joining the hand. she's power hungry, manipulative, arrogant, and homicidal. so yes. scarlet hand!moth au.

additionally, if you wanted a better idea of what toby and moth look like, google 'stephan james model' for toby and 'soo joo park' for moth. (moth's ethnicity was never specified in the books so ha)

also, i really hope some of you caught the irony of toby's tattoo. it was pretty obvious.

this will have maybe 4-5 parts? not a full length story but like little snippets. not sure yet. bonus points if you know what song i'm referencing and if you can guess where this is going (tell me privately though! don't spoil it)

reviews are valued like rain in california.