*A/N: Hello boys, girls and everyone in between. Sorry, it's been a busy week. I just started a new job. I'm usually better at updating. Thanks - Nikki
Chapter 3: The Plan
Dola handled her nerves as best she could the day of the party. Thomas said it was something called a gala. She just nodded her head and continued ignoring anything he said after that. She knew she was supposed to be listening, but it was all white noise to her that might distract her from what her part in this was; smile, be charming and remember that being herself was a contradiction to both. Everything went through one ear and out the other.
Dola dressed carefully, happy to focus nimbly on the buttons as her mind tried to come up with ways to magically learn how to be charming and flirtatious. She sighed deeply. She was a thief, a hardened nomad, a lawless individual and she was afraid of pretending to be interested in a boy. If Sam could see her now. She shook her head and tried to mute her pain; a lifetime ago, she told herself.
Dola finished getting ready and was thankful for Thomas's help, she knew Kyle would spend the whole time saying that no matter how long or how hard they worked on her it wouldn't help a damn bit.
Dola, much to her chagrin, did in fact walk arm in arm with Kyle. What bothered her even more was that Kyle looked better than her in a suit that was older than her dress. She was also embarrassed by the fact she was clueless about the event. The dress flowed softer than anything she had ever worn, it was a burgundy color that she thought would wash her out, but Thomas told her she looked perfect and she knew she was no one to judge beauty so she accepted the compliment.
The second they entered the gala, Dola's mind immediately began working differently, her focus fell to the details and honed in her surroundings. Kyle stayed close by and helped fend off 4 men that tried to approach her, although Kyle would never admit that to her. He didn't want her to think that she was pretty just because a few blind men at a gala tried to get her attention. It didn't matter, Dola was ready for her target and despite Kyle's best efforts she had noticed the men seeking her out, but since they might become an obstacle for Kurt's affections, she was thankful they were chased away.
It took nearly an hour before Dola noticed a man looking at her intently. He had brown hair, wore glasses, fit the description of Kurt and did seem vaguely familiar. "Kyle?" She said under her breath and subtly gestured to the man across the room.
Kyle nodded and turned from her without a single word. The moment felt awkward to her, standing in solitary silence, but luckily she didn't have to wait long. Kurt approached with an easy smile and a calm, modest disposition. He went to take her hand in greeting and the moment he said Wainwright, she couldn't help the reflex to his squeeze his hand. Kurt looked up at her surprised, but no worse for the wear and Dola felt herself blush in embarrassment. "I'm sorry."
He nodded it off and waited for her to give her name. In a brief second she panicked. A Wainwright would more than likely be busy counting his inheritance and wouldn't know the name to some employees that died a couple of years ago, but even so, she didn't like the risk. "Mathilde." She just slightly curtsied and then wondered if they gesture was appropriate or if it seemed mocking.
Kurt simply smiled and said, "What a fearsome and beautiful name; should the same be said of you?"
For the first time in her life, Dola was aware that a man was flirting with her; she wanted to laugh at the thought. "Even more so." She laughed.
"Would you care to dance?" He lifted his brow inquisitively and nodded towards the dance floor.
Dola was suddenly thankful for Kyle's tutelage and nodded. The dance was slow and Dola, despite her usual clumsiness was able to power through near effortlessly. No word was spoken during the dance, but Kurt's eyes never left her face. Dola could feel her face turning beet red and couldn't decide whether ignoring his stare or meeting it head on would be the better choice. However, Dola was no quitter, and in her competitive mind this felt like a challenge, and no challenge would make her cower, so she turned her stare directly onto his with defiance.
She immediately regretted the decision. Kurt's gaze actually made her uncomfortable and almost scared her because of how truly earnest it was. He wasn't leering or drooling, that, she could handle; it nearly felt like he was trying to see into her soul. Her stomach felt queasy and warned her to look away, but she couldn't lose and soon after the song ended.
"Do you mind if we take a turn outside? I feel flushed from the dancing." Dola could barely hold down a gag from the tone of her voice.
Kurt nodded and offered her his arm. The cool air rushed to her face and Dola ingested a deep icy breath with relief. "You know, Miss Mathilde, I have to say I feel like I've seen you before, perhaps in the market?"
"Well, I have been to the market quite often recently. I am surprised you might even recognize me. I usually am in britches on the way home from horse-riding." She tried to sound embarrassed as if dressing in common clothes was something to be ashamed of.
"I think those clothes quite suit you. You know, fearsome and all." Dola smiled at that. They were nearing their clearing and would be nabbed at any moment. "It's a shame britches aren't considered proper attire for a women at a social gathering, wouldn't you say?"
There was a sound in the brush and despite Kurt's earlier sentiments of her fearsomeness, he actually attempted to shield her from what was a threat on him. With his back to her, he didn't see Thomas slip right behind him, delivering a blow to the back of his head.
Poor Kurt awoke with a headache and a fuzzy recollection of the night before. He remembered running into the girl from the market, the one he often thought of. They were walking outside when they were accosted by what he now assumed were vagabonds. Kurt immediately tensed, wondering if Mathilde was able to escape.
He looked around the dark room; it resembled the circular quality that most airships possessed. Kurt was startled at the realization that several eyes were staring at him, and much to his own mortification, two of the eyes belonged to Mathilde. Kurt was quickly able to piece together what must have happened and for some reason he felt almost giddy at the thought.
"So I'm guessing this is ransom?" The male audience looked surprised, but Mathilde just kept staring at him like an animal in captivity. For some reason, Kurt liked the idea that she was at that party dressed properly and behaving just so, all as a cover. It seemed 'britches Mathilde' was the real Mathilde; Kurt found comfort in that.
"Yes, quick thinking there, Kurt." The seemingly oldest man spoke. "We had Dola over there catch your eye and lured you out. Now, we intend some compensation from your family for your safe return." Kurt felt confused the moment he heard Dola, and soon after felt stupid for thinking she had actually given him her real name. "So, do as we say and you can join your family soon enough, simple wouldn't you say?"
"Sounds simple enough; I think I can handle captivity for a bit." Kurt said with no fear, betrayal or indignation. If Dola didn't know better, she would think the man was actually looking forward to being kidnapped. Soon after, the band left Kurt in his chamber and met in their functioning office.
Dola began first. "I rescind the prisoner to you and consider myself clear of the responsibility and since you all let my perfectly fine talents go to waste on this one, I think it is only fair that the 'bait' be excused from any guard or food duty."
Thomas nodded at that. "Gentlemen?" There were nods all around. "I believe we can be amenable to that condition."
"Good." Dola didn't want to admit that Kurt made her uncomfortable. His gaze actually made her feel transparent and after hiding so much for so long, she didn't like to be seen. All she had to do was avoid him for the time being, until they received payment and then she could be comfortable again.
Dola's plan did not work out so well. On the second day of his captivity, Kurt refused by any and all accounts to eat. After his second meal rebuff, he announced to Kyle that unless his food was brought to him by Dola, he wouldn't eat at all.
Dola was possessed to strangle the spoiled rich boy, not Kyle, although him too. No, she wanted to strangle Kurt. He was the captive and now he was making demands. She suggested to Thomas that they let him starve a bit, as it would help him grow some character and maybe some appreciation for food.
Thomas pulled her aside and apologized to her twice, two times more than she had ever seen Thomas apologize in the past to anyone. Even when he had nearly cut off Rich's left hand he said, 'Maybe you should be more careful of where you stand next time.' "Look, Dola," he began. "I understand that after you played your part I shouldn't be asking you of this, but we can't have Kurt becoming sick or starving because he refuses to eat. I may be a thief, but I'm not a liar and I did say we'd return him unharmed after we're paid. I could really use your help on this. A hostage is no good if they starve themselves to death. And we don't know how long it could take to get his parents to pay up; he could've starved himself into a grave by then. Once we lose our leverage, we might as well kiss our money goodbye."
Dola sighed in exasperation. On one hand, Thomas hand promised, on the other hand, a dead hostage was no good to them at all. "Ugh, Dammit. Fine, but I am owed for this, like big time."
Dola couldn't believe she had agreed after she had finally been granted one entitlement. She stood up straight and meandered toward their makeshift dungeon with unappetizing gruel in hand. She opened the door, set the gruel down on a table and started to leave. "Wait." Kurt called out in earnest. "I don't like to eat alone. Stay." He offered her the one stool in the room and quickly sat on the floor mat in an attempt to prevent any objection.
Dola sighed slightly and nodded, determined to just sit and let him stare until he was bored. "So, your name is Dola?"
"Yes."
"So why did you say it was Mathilde?" Kurt asked.
"Because it is." Dola offered.
"Are you being cryptic on purpose? Or is this another personality trait revealing itself?"
Dola smiled despite herself. "Dola is my last name; I let the boys call me Dola." She saw no harm in admitting now that he was their prisoner.
Kurt thought the name sounded vaguely familiar. "Why do you go by Dola?"
Dola cleared her throat. "I think I've divulged enough to my captive for the day." She smiled sarcastically.
"Fine," Kurt spoke eagerly, "I can divulge some to even the playing field, if you'd like." There was a lilt of laughter in his voice.
"Even what playing field? You are my captive. There is no playing field, the game has been won."
"I have cooperated thus far, making your job unbelievably easier. I even have learned how to acquire leverage over your crew. I happen to consider that success." Dola hated to admit that she did as well.
"That's your version of it." She smiled.
"So, Kurt Wainwright, born second son to the Wainwright family. My older brother is named Heinrich and is self-important to a fault." He smiled. "Not like me, of course. I don't get along with him very well. Um… let's see, what else? I'm very fond of engineering. I've contributed to creating a lever that helps with a pulley we have recently started to use in our mines. I also helped plan the gala. My parents aren't as keen on charitable giving as I am."
Dola nodded wondering if the mines were a safer place to work after the incident. 'Incident' seemed such a trivial word, but she fought off a shudder. "How nice of you." She grabbed his now empty bowl and started to walk away. "Now, if you'll excuse me, dinner time is over." Kurt reached out, but Dola quickly slipped outside.
Dola went straight to her favorite secluded room in the airship and huddled where she slept through the night.
Dola woke up to a flick on her forehead. She looked up to see Kyle smirking down at her. "Come on, Den Mother. It is time to feed your pet." He shoved the bowl of food into her arms.
"So, what about you?" Kurt asked before any greetings, the moment Dola opened the door.
"Hello to you, too. What about me?" Dola handed him his food and sat down on the bench before Kurt even had a chance to offer it to her.
"Tell me something about yourself. All the guys are boring brutes, but you are interesting. Tell me something they don't know." He smiled at the promise of a secret.
"I already have. The boys don't know my name."
"But why not? It fits you so well."
Dola had to look away from the approving look he was giving her that made her stomach feel like mush. "To me, it was more important to be known as a Dola than as Mathilde." She tried to shrug casually.
"Where did you get the name?" Kurt tried not to sound pushy as if this was the normal development of conversation.
Dola sighed, but decided to give in. It wasn't like her life was some state secret and although nosy; Kurt was surprisingly easy to talk to. "My mother, she died giving birth to me and my father told me it was the last thing she said. She wanted me to be a warrior." She smiled fondly, missing someone she had never met.
"That seems important to me. How could you cast it away?"
"Because I am a Dola. I would rather hold to a name that reminds me of the people who matter most to me than to someone I never met."
Even Kurt thought that almost sounded harsh. "You know you're just like when I first met you, at the market." He chuckled. "Do you ever look at someone and feel like you can see through to their core? Almost like they are transparent?"
"Are you saying that about me?" Dola wasn't sure if she should feel flattered or insulted. "You hardly know me."
"Maybe not the specifics, but you've got character; the kind you wear on your sleeve. It's as if you have a warm, visible aura." He tilted his head with a crooked smile. "It's who you are that I can see that's why I'm so curious of whom you were."
"That seems almost profound." She laughed.
"You know, that name almost seems familiar." Kurt paused trying to place it.
"So, the boys have mailed your ransom note just last night. How long do you think it would take to get a reply?" Dola quickly changed the subject.
"Hmm, soon enough, I gather. I just hope they didn't ask for too much."
"Your family has buckets of money to burn."
"Yes, and no doubt they would spend nearly all of it if you had kidnapped Heinrich, but I'm the disappointing son, living in the shadow of a great heir. The insurance on my life isn't a fraction to his." He smiled, but the gesture didn't reach his eyes.
"Surely you must be exaggerating."
"I hope I am, but I don't think so. I'm sorry for The Rogues' misfortune for kidnapping me. Hopefully it all ends well, in the end."
"Aren't you the least bit worried?"
"Why should I be? It's going to happen either one way or another, all I can do is be accommodating and hope for mercy."
Dola tried to smile. "Is that what you call this? Accommodating? Blackmailing your captors into having your way? That almost seems, dare I say, demanding."
"Well, you can take the rich boy from power, but you can't take the power from the rich boy." Dola laughed and Kurt openly brightened at that. "I just wanted to know if I was right about you."
"And your conclusion?"
"Still pending… another smile from you and I'll have finished."
Dola laughed facetiously. "Well, it's more fun to keep you guessing. Maybe I will just need to be cross in the future."
"I wonder how long you could manage that."
"You'd be surprised. Done?" She grabbed the bowl and left before Kurt could reply.
Dola left the ship with a brief word to David about feeding Kurt if she wasn't back in time for lunch. She walked through the market, just watching the people around her. She would see families and for that brief moment, she would be so jealous, it nearly made her bitter. She tried not to think about her family, because whenever she let their memory escape from her subconscious, she would feel overcome with a pain that nearly had her gut-wrenching and brought her to her knees.
Even if they were gone, Dola knew that she had to stay strong for their memory. She walked until her feet burned and before she knew it the sun was almost setting. She had missed lunch after all.
"Where the hell have you been, Dola?" Thomas asked the second she walked through the door.
"Out, Thomas. I was taking a breather from babysitting, which I know I am more than entitled to." She tried to take a deep breath to calm herself, but got riled up instead. "And since when the hell did you become my keeper?"
She expected a rage-fueled rebuttal, but Thomas's jaw tensed and he gave her a curt nod. "Look, Dola. I get that you're angry and you're allowed to be, but we have a socially important prisoner and someone might've seen you with him. I'm trying to be logical about this. I don't want anyone going out alone, especially the last person he was seen with. Please, just avoid the temptation and stay close."
Dola stood at the helm and looked at the open sky before them; there was an ache in her gut. For the first time since joining The Rogues, she felt tied down. Her muscles were screaming to be stretched. "Have you ever thought about taking this airship out and becoming pirates?" The idea almost sounded ridiculous to her but she let it marinate for a second. It was essentially what they did now, but with more freedom, more space to breathe.
"No." Thomas said simply. "That's too much work and we would need a more experienced crew."
A brief thought flitted into Dola's mind. "How are we on supplies?" She realized that the last time they had made a run for food was well over a week before and now they were feeding an extra mouth.
Thomas didn't seem swayed by the change in topic. "We're low. I was thinking about going with the boys tomorrow."
She turned. "All of them?"
"Yeah, we can stretch out and grab even more."
"Who's going to watch the prisoner?"
Thomas uncharacteristically smirked. "You already proclaimed yourself babysitter. I would hate to take that position from you."
"Jerk." Dola scolded. "You better not be gone long." She marched out of the room with one more glance to the sky.
David accosted her. "It took a lot of convincing to get that guy to eat. Once I promised you would be in for dinner, he finally agreed." David smiled. "I think someone's got a crush on you."
"Ha," Dola laughed with no humor.
"Anyway, you're on dinner duty." He walked away without another word.
"I should be excluded from dinner duty, seeing as my one condition was ignored!" She yelled out after David. He dismissed that with a wave, not turning around to see her glare at him.
Dola set to making some simple vegetable stew seeing as they were low on food. She ate her portion slowly in the silent kitchen. She begrudgingly dragged her feet with a bowl for Kurt. He smiled when she walked in. "So where have you been?"
"Are you my mother?" She said tiredly as she handed him the bowl.
Kurt's face fell a little. "No, I was just curious. Is this you cross?"
"I went for a walk." Dola denied that she felt a little bad. "Sometimes I feel so cooped up."
Kurt nodded. "Do you have any family that are miners?"
Dola's gut tightened, she didn't anymore. "No, why do you ask?"
"That name sounds familiar. It sounded like something I heard my parents talk about once." He shrugged casually.
"What about?"
"I honestly can't remember."
Dola tried not to see red, but found it difficult. Four men dead in one of his mines, leaving an orphan all alone and he couldn't remember? "Eat quick; I'm not in the mood to converse."
Kurt looked at her surprised. "What's wrong?"
"I'm not your friend, Kurt. I'm your captor and I'm sick of entertaining you with conversation just to appease and provide you an escape from boredom." She seethed.
"What's got into you?"
Dola snatched the half-eaten stew from his hands. "I honestly can't remember." She shut the door loudly and tossed the rest of his food.
