CHAPTER 6
The Return of the Filler
Red awoke early the next morning feeling incredibly relaxed and content. He figured it probably had something to do with the two warm, small little bodies which were curled up on either side of him in the narrow twin bed Raddy had loaned him for the night. He could feel the maternal (or was it paternal? He was never really sure) warmth welling up in his chest as he realized that Hansel and Gretel had both crawled into his bed last night after he'd gone to sleep. He was sorely tempted to steal them both away and raise them from then on as his own, but he fought down the urge. Loathe as he was to admit it, his life was too tumultuous at this point for him to even think of adopting one child, let alone two. Not only that, but he really didn't want to attempt to raise a child (or two, or three, or half a dozen) without a suitable partner at his side, one who loved children at least as much as he did.
No, for now he knew that it was wisest to refrain from adopting, no matter how much he wanted to...
Sighing slightly, he began squirming his way out from between the two slumbering children, doing his best to keep from waking them. He managed to get out of the bed with little problem, though once he made for the bedroom door, he felt a sharp tug on his hair. Turning quickly, he looked down at the young ones in the bed and saw that they were both still asleep, but that Gretel had her small hand wrapped tightly around the end of his braid. Nearly overwhelmed by the adorable way she clung to his hair, he nevertheless bent down and gently pried her fingers away from their prize.
With his hair once more completely in his possession, Red tiptoed out of the small bedroom and made his way into the kitchen. He was pleased to see that Raddy was not yet up and about, or, if he was, that he had not begun preparing breakfast, because this morning, that was exactly what Red wanted to do. He pondered briefly as he rifled through the cupboards, inspecting the contents, and then smiled, for he knew what he was going to do:
He was going to make pancakes.
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Robert prided himself on being one of the best man-servants around. He was friendly, courteous, well-mannered and, despite everything that went on around him most of the time, able to accept and adore his master for who and what he was. Their friendship since early childhood had spurred the man to pursue the same occupation as his father before him. He would serve no other person, except for Victor von Verkoltenstein.
Of course, there were times when he wished he had decided to serve his master's younger sibling, Morgan, instead. Surely the child was more sensible than his older brother...right? At least he knew how to properly go about courting someone...Robert assumed.
Victor's idea of asking for a woman's hand in marriage was to abuse his powers as the Count of Maple Town by having his soldiers remove the poor woman from her home, lock her up in one of the dustiest rooms in the basement, and then demand the impossible of her while informing her that if she didn't, her life belonged to him. To anyone with an ounce of common sense, this translated to 'on pain of death'. However, Victor being Victor, all it really meant that if she failed she would be forced into marriage with him...all without her seeing or speaking with him about it beforehand.
Of course, Robert reminded his master that not everyone had as unique a thought process as he did, so, therefore, had to make sure that Hannah did manage to do the impossible, or people were going to expect him to really off her.
Robert adored his master. He really did. He just wished that he wouldn't try so hard to live up to his older brother's name (and it had been a very illustrious one, at that). Though Victor didn't know it, his manservant kept a rather close eye on his activities, and Robert knew that his master had been traipsing around with his white half-mask, singing horribly at ungodly hours and breaking countless windows in the process (as well as many, many houses and whatever poor, wandering person happened within earshot of him). But he had no say in whatever his master decided to do. After all, he was just a servant; someone to cater to his master's every whim...
...Even if some of those whims left him unable to walk properly and with his backside smarting for a good three nights afterwards.
Still, hard feelings aside, he had a duty to do. And that duty, right now, was to make sure that the miller girl had done what had been asked of her. Of course, he knew that she wouldn't have. No ordinary human being in Robert's knowledge held the power to spin straw to gold...so it was his responsibility to remove the straw and replace it with gold as the woman slept.
To his utter surprise when he went down to check up on her the morning after her first night of imprisonment, he found the gold he'd brought along with him to swap with the straw had become unnecessary, as the young woman was sleeping peacefully beside a pile of very fine, but nevertheless inexplicably real gold.
Robert contemplated the scene for several minutes, thinking. Finally, he came to a decision and wheeled about, walking back the way he had come and striding all the way to his master's chambers.
"My lord, I have need of your council," he announced as he entered the dark room, uncaring of any call for decorum or politeness. In the dim light he could see his master stir slightly in his coffin, then fall still again. Well, he knew the man was awake at least, though, as usual, he was pretending to be asleep.
"My lord," Robert said again, striding over to his master's bedside and leaning down, close to the man's face. Even though the light was dim, he could still discern individual eyelashes, outlined as they were against the count's ghostly pale skin. "There seems to be an unexpected problem. Oh, stop faking, Victor; I know you're awake,"
One dark eye cracked open a slight bit, and Robert was treated to a very frightful glare. He was, however, used to such looks from his master; he received them daily each evening upon waking him up, and as such was un-phased by the very nasty one he was receiving now.
"What time is it?" Victor muttered, making no move to sit up or even to open his other eye.
"It's just a little after nine in the morning, but what I have to say can't wait until this evening. It concerns the woman in the basement."
Suddenly Victor was fully alert. He sat up and opened his eyes, all his attention focused completely on Robert.
"Is something the matter with my Angel of –"
"No, not with her, as such," Robert interrupted before his master could complete his cliché line. "It concerns the straw we left with her."
"Well? What's wrong with it?"
"It's...not really straw anymore, if you get my drift,"
Victor blinked. "Then what...?"
"Somehow, unless someone else snuck in and replaced it, it's been...well, turned to gold."
"That's impossible," Victor said sternly, frowning at Robert as though wondering if the man was going a bit soft in the head.
"I know that, sir," Robert said, crossing his arms and frowning right back. "But I also know what I see, and that straw's not straw any longer. How else to you explain it?" He watched as his master went into deep thought about the urgent matter at hand. Victor usually knew what to do to solve a problem...but then again, he was also adept at making situations much, much worse. For instance, he had once been very infatuated with a singer friend of his older brother, the late Count Erik von Verkoltenstein (Kiwi rest his poor, tormented soul), named Kristine. His master had thought it a marvelous idea to try to win the affections of the woman through song.
That had turned out about as well as most of Victor's attempts at song. If it weren't for the fact that the family owned the Opera House, Robert seriously would have considered his master in a lot of trouble...not to mention banned from the theatre.
So, as far as brilliant ideas went...it was only now occurring to him that maybe he should have just kept his mouth shut about the whole affair and solved the problem himself. But it was already too late, and the count was about to give him his opinion on the matter.
"Mayhaps...a generous fairy decided to help her out?" he said, finally.
Both men shared a moment, looking into each other's eyes, then shook their heads.
"Nah," they agreed, at length. But this landed the two right back at square one. How exactly had Hannah, a girl known for her inability for spinning even the most shortest of threads, managed to turn dry, slightly brittle straw into gold? The count and butler could only bounce ideas off of one another until they could find a proper answer. There were a million theories as to how such a bizarre occurrence could happen, each one more ridiculous than the last. Eventually, Victor settled on one hypothesis--one that Robert, for the life of him, couldn't quite grasp without having the urge to hit his head against a wall.
"My Hannah really is an angel!" the man declared, suddenly bringing one of his white half masks out of nowhere and standing atop his coffin, posing dramatically. "She has a gift! A gift given to her by the Higher Powers to test me and my greed! Yes, that must be it! Or possibly...she is the one being tested...? We are both being tested! I must believe in the power of miracles!"
"...With all due respect, sir..." Robert began, rubbing his temples. "You are an idiot."
Victor pouted, then put his hands on his hips as he looked at his best friend and servant. "Well...how do you explain all of this, then?" The servant said nothing, which made his master feel rather smug. Crossing his arms, he gave Robert a very triumphant look.
Groaning in irritation, Robert decided that he should do something before Victor's head swelled up too big to fit his mask. "Look. How about we do a bit of investigation, hm?" he proposed, moving forward to help his master down from his rather precarious perch on his coffin. "We shall tell the girl that she should do another day of spinning and in the shadows...we shall watch for anything suspicious."
Victor thought about this proposition for all of two seconds before tackling Robert in an enthusiastic and manly hug. Normally, an embrace from the other man was usually (and only) a manly, one-armed hug, but when it came to the matter of his interest, Victor had more energy than a three-year-old on a sugar high.
"What a wonderful idea! Let's do it!" the count exclaimed, subsequently dashing out of his bedroom door before Robert could remind him that it was still daylight. Robert watched in amusement as the man came running back into the sanctuary of his bedroom, to lock himself firmly into his coffin. Rolling his eyes, Robert set to work closing all the curtains of the mansion so his master could travel down to the depths of his home into the basement where the miller girl was currently residing.
Once he was done doing everything in his power to keep from the cheerful November sun from filtering inside the abode of the von Verkoltenstein, he and Victor began the job of staking out Hannah's cell. Orders had been given to guards to remove the gold, put twice the amount of straw from the other night in and then inform Hannah of her new task.
The two men squeezed themselves into a small hidden room adjacent to Hannah's cell and waited quietly, side by side, taking turns peering through a spy-hole that had been built into the cell wall for just such an occasion. They spent the rest of the day keeping an eye on Hannah's sleeping form, and tried to amuse themselves quietly as best they could in the mean time.
They knew evening had come when a servant arrived at Hannah's door bearing the woman's evening meal, and Victor pushed Robert away from the peep-hole when the young woman in the cell stirred and awoke. He watched with an almost inaudible sigh as she partook in the simple meal presented to her, a little sleepily, he noted as she nearly stuffed her fork up her nose. Seeing his angel disheveled and tired enough to not function properly made him giggle--a sound that snapped the woman on the other side of the wall to attention. Both he and Robert were very tense as they waited for the miller girl to ask who was there.
But all she did was shake her head, then continue with eating her dinner, though she looked very wary now. The count and his servant gave a small sigh of relief.
"That was a close one," Victor whispered softly, "she almost caught us."
"Thanks entirely to you," Robert muttered under his breath.
Victor shrugged, then peered back into the hole. Nothing seemed amiss with the young woman. Despite her stressful circumstances, his Hannah was acting rather normal. Even despite having the scare from earlier, she looked very calm and serene--as if everything would turn out just fine for her. What inspiring confidence! The count was inclined to cry tears of awe.
He continued to keep watch, even when dinner was brought to him as well. He didn't touch it, although he did take an occasional sip of something tangy. He wasn't sure what it was exactly, but it tasted fine and well-aged. Perhaps he'd inquire after the mysterious drink later, when he wasn't so enraptured with watching his Hannah's every move. He yawned into his hand.
"Tired, sir?"
Victor glanced at Robert, intending to respond with an appropriately scathing remark, but then yawned again. He was somewhat gratified when his manservant suddenly yawned as well, popping his jaw in the process.
"I'm really...sleepy, all of a sudden," Robert whispered, rubbing his eyes with his knuckles.
I...as well," Victor heard himself agreeing. Without even really thinking about what he was doing, he leaned against Robert, resting his head on the man's shoulder, and closed his eyes. He'd just have a small nap...save up a bit of energy to continue watching his beloved angel...
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The orange fairy smiled to himself in satisfaction. He'd made sure the two men hiding away in that small room adjacent to the miller girl's cell would sleep the entire night through, and awake only after he left in the morning. It certainly wouldn't do to let too many people know of his interference with the miller girl, especially as he was angling to bag a prize much nicer than the simple necklace she'd given him last night.
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All was quiet in Raddy the Brown's little house out in the Fae Forest.
It was considerably pleasant in the cottage, with its familiar warmth against the cold winter weather outside. The mud-colored fairy was sleeping soundly in his hammock, wrapped up in a couple colorful quilts, when he was awakened by the frightened screams of his godchildren. Raddy, who was quite used to this, was nevertheless jerked out of his sleep faster than a unicorn charging a virgin. Unfortunately, one thing he had never gotten used to was rolling properly out of his hammock. He usually ended up tumbling spectacularly to the ground right on his masked face. This morning was no exception. Quickly checking to see if he had chipped or cracked the wood, he leapt to his feet and dashed off to discover what was the matter.
His godchildren, Hansel and Gretel, had an extremely bad habit of getting into all sorts of misadventures. He would never forget that one time they had gotten lost in the resort in Toyland. A security witch working for the resort had been hospitalized for trying to get them back to their parents. Tripped into and been badly burned inside a wide open oven, she had, much to the distress of the poor children, and not to mention hers. Or the time Gretel had baked a little gingerbread man, which had suddenly sprung to life when she threw some of the fairy dust from his collection on it. They had chased it and chased it and chased it, all the way to a river bank, where Gretel had nearly drowned trying to save the darned thing when it had fallen in. And never mind the times either Gretel or Hansel were kidnapped every other week, and the remaining sibling had to trek a long way in order to free the other. Just thinking about it was distressing Raddy, and when Raddy got riled up, he fell back to old habits.
"'Hansel!! Gretel!!' he cries out in anguish," the fairy narrated as he slammed open the door to Hansel and Gretel's room. Empty. He began to search the rest of the house. "Verily does he go about, looking here and there for his lost children, hoping against hope that nothing terrible has befallen them. Oh, how this fairy's heart beats against his ribcage as his fear escalates and escalates!"
Raddy bounded a corner, still continuing his narration as he practically tumbled into the kitchen, where Red was holding the pancakes hostage.
"What is this? What is going on!? He demands upon bursting into the kitchen, taking in with wide-eyed astonishment the tableau before him," Raddy said, looking pointedly at Red, who returned his blank-masked stare with a look of great amusement.
"Uncle Raddy, Uncle Raddy!" Gretel distracted him by tugging on his night-shirt. He looked down at the little girl, who was staring up at him, her brown eyes wide. "Uncle Red made pancakes, but he says he won't share! Make him share! Please?"
"He looks back up at Red, bemusement plain on his face. Is this true?" Raddy asked, matching actions to words even as he spoke.
"Of course not," Red responded, picking up a plate piled high with pancakes from the back of the stove, where he'd been guarding it from the children. "I was just waiting for you to wake up. Now that you're here, we can all eat together," he said, smiling.
"He looks back down at his beloved godchild and smiles. There now, you see?" he asked, ruffling Gretel's sleep-tussled hair. "Now go get washed up, and we'll all have breakfast together."
"Uncle Raddy, you're doing it again," she said in response, even as she hugged him tight about the waist and scurried to do as she was told, with Hansel following close behind.
Red gave a small, warm chuckle as he watched the children hurry off to clean themselves at Raddy's request. Shaking his head a little, he placed the stack of pancakes on the table before searching for fresh plates and utensils so he could set the table, with the Fae watching him (or, at least, Red thought he was being watched). He quietly went about his work, listening to the sounds of the morning outside and the soft tinkling of plates, forks and knives inside, as well as the sporadic interruptions of Hansel and Gretel's little voices.
Finally done, the baker turned to address the brown fairy in all of his masculine, tussled glory. He smiled. "You haven't changed one bit," he commented. Raddy tilted his head to the side a little, pondering something.
"I could say the same of you," the fairy said at length, moving forward from where he stood at the door since the 'hostage situation' had been resolved. He kept going until he was in front of the other man. He reached up and brushed some hair away from Red's face. The hand trailed down, pulling the long black braid forward. Picking it at the end, he brought it up, close to his mask.
And then he tugged the ribbon off, having the mind to dishevel the stunned man's hair a bit so that the braid loosened.
"You...you..."
If Red could see behind Raddy's mask, he would no doubt have been treated to the sight of a rather cheeky grin."Nope. Haven't changed a bit," he said, laughter in his voice as he played a bit of keep away with the smaller man. It was like playing with an overly enthusiastic and angry kitten with the way Red just kept swiping at the hair ribbon, but never actually getting it, as Raddy was much taller than Red and held it easily out of the shorter man's reach. In his frustration the baker wrapped an arm around the tall fairy's neck to gain some extra leverage as he jumped another time to get his hair ribbon back.
At this point, the children decided to walk back into the kitchen.
"Yuck! Just like our parents!" Hansel exclaimed, clearly disgusted at what he was seeing.
It was then Red realized properly that he was clinging to Raddy using both his legs and his arm in his attempt to retrieve his ribbon. He let go abruptly and stumbled back, face flaming.
"Are you going to kiss?" Gretel asked hopefully. "Can I watch? Are you in love? Are you going to get married? And have babies? Can I name a baby? I wanna name her Danielle! Danielle's a pretty name. It's a princess-y name. Will the baby be a princess? And if she's a princess, does that mean she'll marry a prince? Will the prince be handsome, too? And—"
Hansel put his hand over his little sister's mouth at this point, for which Red was eternally grateful.
"No, Gretel, we're not in love. And we couldn't have babies together anyway," Raddy explained patiently. Red was sure the fairy was looking at him as he said this, and blushed all the harder. Raddy was perfectly aware that Red had had a bit of a crush on him back in their younger days...and if he was any sort of intelligent, he probably figured that Red still did. "Now, why don't we all sit down and have some pancakes before they get cold?" he suggested, diverting the topic back to a safer subject.
"Yay!" both the children cheered, and took their seats at once.
"Come on, Red," Raddy said, holding out his hand and proffering Red's ribbon. Red accepted the accessory gracefully, though he still couldn't look directly at Raddy. Little Gretel's innocent questions had reminded him all too well of his crush on the muddy fairy, and put him in mind of other things...
No! He couldn't think about...that...especially not with the man himself present, and in the presence of two innocent children besides! Firmly pushing any and all thoughts of such dubious adult nature to the furthest corner at the back of his mind, Red sat down at the table and began helping Raddy serve breakfast.
"Speaking of children, Raddy...are these two yours?" Red inquired, now that the general silliness and chaos that had broken out that morning passed. The fairy, who had taken a good gulp of orange juice when no one was looking, sprayed his drink in surprise. Luckily for everyone, except the brown fairy, the mask he wore worked like a sneeze guard. The baker snickered as he watched the juice dribble down from behind the wooden mask. Smirking a little, he pulled out a handkerchief from his pocket and reached across the table to help clean him up. "So?" he said, expectantly.
"You know better than I, that they're my godchildren," Raddy replied.
"Damn straight!" Hansel stated proudly.
"Watch your language, young man."
"Sorry, Uncle Raddy."
Red rolled his eyes and tried questioning again. "That's not what I meant. What I meant was, from what I remember...fairies only take care of children directly if they're abandoned. Remember the Three U's!" Raddy nodded.
"Yes...Unloved, Unwanted, Unfortunate."
Red regarded the two children, who were both still munching away happily at their pancakes and maple syrup. "And which are these?" he asked, for try as he might, he couldn't fathom the answer on his own.
"They are, fortunately, neither Unloved nor Unwanted," Raddy informed him. "Unfortunately, they are..."
"Unfortunate," Red finished, glancing once more at the two young ones.
"Yes," Raddy confirmed. "They are destined to encounter great deals of trouble in their young years, though I think they should soon grow out of it," he said.
"Oh," Red said. He speared a bite of pancake on his fork and swirled it around in the puddle of syrup on his plate. "How do you figure?" he asked, raising the bite of pancake to his mouth.
"Well, young Hansel is nearly ten now, and that's usually the age when Unfortunates stop needing their fairy godparents. Once Hansel has his birthday, I think my services won't be required much longer," Raddy said, lifting a forkful of pancake to his mask. For some reason, Red felt compelled to reach for his glass of milk at that exact moment, and when he looked back at his friend, the fork was empty and he could see the Fae's ears wagging slightly as he chewed.
"How do you do that?" Red asked before he even realized he was going to.
"Do what?" Raddy cocked his head, puzzlement plain in his voice and manner.
Red opened his mouth to explain, but then paused, and shook his head. "Never mind," he said, shaking his head. There were probably some things he was better off not knowing.
"So," Raddy began, moving the conversation along to new topics, "what's the plan of attack for today, Red?" The fairy watched as the small man started to ponder just that as he absently helped Gretel pour some syrup onto her plate before she made a mess of herself and the table. He noted, with faint amusement, how the baker made sure that the syrup spelled out the girl's name in elaborate cursive writing. Ah, the experience of a hand used to writing words in semi-viscous substances.
Now, what was Red going to do? It had been suggested that he lay low for a while, until the villagers calmed down somewhat--but something important might have happened while he had been away! Who knew what sorts of mischief would be happening as he lay hidden within the Fae Forest? That idiot Neil had had to go and ruin everything with that stunt of his yesterday...What he wouldn't do to get back at him somehow...
"Homicide comes to mind," Red stated absently, imagining myriads of ways the insufferable hero could die, "but other than that, I'd like to check in with Hannah to see how she's holding up right now..."
Raddy nodded in understanding. "I'll walk you to the edge of the Forest, then, when you're ready to go," he said.
Red nodded, blushing slightly. "Thanks," he said in response.
Everyone finished eating soon after that, and the breakfast mess in the kitchen was cleaned up. Red donned his cloak, Raddy his scarf, and they both helped the children into their winter jackets – dark red for Gretel, and hunter green for Hansel.
The air outside was crisp and clear, and the light dusting of snow that had fallen the night before crunched pleasantly beneath the feet of Red and the two children. Raddy, never very fond of shoes, chose to hover several inches above the ground as they went, trailing his bare toes in the air just above the frost.
The walk was pleasant, and over too quickly for Red's liking. The four reached the edge of the forest and stopped.
"Well...thanks for the food and the bed, Raddy," Red said, feeling slightly awkward.
"It was no problem," Raddy responded warmly. "If you can, please come see me before you go home after you've got Hannah sorted out...I have something I'd like to talk to you about, but I don't want you to worry about that while you're doing your chores."
Red blinked, but agreed, wondering even as he did so what Raddy wanted to talk about. After giving Hansel and Gretel each a big hug, and casting a sort of awkward smile at the brown fairy, he turned and made his way along the road south, back towards the Count's castle.
The trip around Maple Town was mostly uneventful. He may have stumbled upon a nest filled with spiders (which wrenched from his lips the loudest, shrillest, longest screams the nearby Fae Forest had ever been privy to in the last thousand years) and at one point he tripped over a large, inconveniently placed piece of wood and face first into the fresh snow, which was sprinkled lightly with fairy dust--which he had a bit of a time wiping off his face--but nothing truly interesting happened.
In all of this uninteresting going-ons about his person, the baker managed to do something he hadn't done in a while: Introspection.
More specifically, introspection about a certain someone who had retrieved his lost basket, which was now hanging in its familiar place in the crook of his arm.
It was amazing how many times he had lost the thing over the years. As a child, his mother would scold him whenever he lost something, especially when the object he had lost was of a particular value. He'd always ended up finding what he'd lost, one way or another, or just shrugged and moved on to get something newer (though the newer would never be quite the same as the older). This basket he carried was of a certain affiliation. He was pretty attached to it, as it were, though his past actions had shown otherwise.
This had been his mother's basket. The last thing she had touched (besides the brush of her lips against his forehead and a caress of her hand along his cheek) and the very last thing his father had given to him before they left, never to return again.
Red stopped walking for a moment as he suddenly got choked up at the thought of his parents, and had to wrestle with himself for some time before he could resume his traveling to the Count's demesne. By the end of his little internal struggle, his sensible side also reminded him of what that basket had helped to do in the past as well as those who had possibly touched it.
Which brought the young man back to thoughts of the man known only as Wolf. Various emotions came to mind when he thought of his life's greatest antagonist. Anger, irritation...pity, sympathy, and feeling terribly sorry. Maybe just the smallest sliver of admiration. After all, the man had rescued him that one time from the Wicked Fairy, (and possibly a few other times, if he really thought about it) and retrieved his basket for him when he had not asked such things. Also, smaller than the feeling of admiration, he felt a touch of...he didn't know the word for it, actually.
Adulation? Content? Flattered? Whatever the feeling was, it made him flush pink and caused a sense of warmth to spread within his breast (though that fluttered away as fast as it came) whenever he thought about Wolf's unwavering devotion.
How I managed such a feat from someone I barely know, Red thought a little sadly, will haunt me for the rest of my life.
The baker continued on this rather pitiful train of thought for a good ten minutes, wondering about the strange relationship between himself and Wolf, when something ever-so-rudely caught his attention via an unexpected bite to his shin.
"You," Red said accusingly, pointing a finger at the culprit. The little perpetrator, not seen by the dark haired man for quite a while now, was grinning up at him in a doggish sort of way as it nonchalantly scratched an ear. "Don't play innocent with me. What was that for?" he demanded, bending down to rub his aching shin as he glared at the offensively cute puppy before him. As if waiting for him to do exactly that, the puppy wolf-dog snatched his basket clean off of him and ran straight away. Wasting only a few moments being flabbergasted that this was happening again, the baker gave immediate chase.
"Come back here you little hellion!" he shouted, running as fast as his legs could carry him.
One could describe the many ways a not-so-fully-grown man could pursue a dog, however, as the event is nothing too special in of itself (besides the hijinks one can expect from such a spectacle) one could most definitely find oneself content to zero in on the aftermath of such a scenario.
The small man was huffing and puffing by the time he got within arm's length of his basket, his reserves usually kept for fleeing mobs and such almost depleted in the long dash after Wulf. The Siberian husky was nowhere to be seen, but its treasure had been haphazardly left on the groundLetting out an annoyed breath, Red reached out to take the handle when he heard shouts close by Curious, he picked up his basket and followed the noise.
"That is completely and utterly out of the question!" he heard a very familiar voice snarl. Red blinked and hurried a little faster.
"And who gave you the authority to judge?" came the silky smooth response. "Shouldn't the answer to this question be given by the one it concerns?"
"Absolutely not!" the first voice insisted. Red had, by this time, come to the edge of the forest that encircled the clearing around Hannah's prison basement, and stopped just short of exiting the trees to stare at the tableau before him in astonishment.
The orange Fae was there, of course – the owner of such a silky smooth voice could be no one else. But what really stunned Red and momentarily robbed him of the ability to move was the presence of the other man.
He hadn't changed much in the long months since Red had last seen him – oh, maybe his hair was a little longer, his chin a little scruffier, but his amber eyes and tall, lean, leather-clad form were still much the same. Thoughts of their last encounter in Tempus rudely and without invitation invaded Red's mind, and he flushed with shame when he remembered how they had parted. What was wrong with him, really? Wolf had spent the whole evening being incredibly kind and gentlemanly, but as soon as he'd figured out the man's identity, Red had wanted nothing further to do with him. And yet, even after he'd so cruelly walked out on him, Wolf still remained, retrieving his basket for him and guarding his path...
And as thanks for his devotion, Red treated him little better than a doormat. As he realized this, he felt suddenly sick to his stomach.
"Ah, well, speak of the devil!" The orange Fae had noticed his presence, and turned to regard Red with a winning smile that the baker didn't trust one iota. Wolf looked to where the Fae indicated, caught sight of Red, and scowled.
The man towards whom the scowl was pointed was taken aback for a few moments, before he reasoned that he couldn't really be the cause of that ugly expression--not directly anyways. No, he was fairly sure that it had something to do with the fairy floating gayfully (and not in the good sense, either) towards him as tangerine-colored sparkles drifted down from his wings. The guy was leering quite openly at him. It surprised Red to realize that, even if Wolf was incorrigible at times (at least, from what he barely knew of him) he had not once ever looked at Red quite like that.
"Looks like we can settle things, after all!" the fairy said gleefully, prancing around behind Red and daring to wrap his arms around his shoulders. It could only be assumed that this Fae was trying to be friendly, but knowing the baker's mindset and his current track record for friendly fairies (not to mention the shouting from earlier), he shrugged him off and unconsciously moved to Wolf's side for better protection.
"Oh, hells no," Wolf ground out through clenched teeth as he reached out a hand to push Red behind him, as if to protect him from whatever the orange fairy had planned. It was a simple gesture and one that Red paid an almost sickening amount of attention to as his curiosity piqued. What was going on?
"Anyone care to explain to me what the problem is?" he asked dryly, though the back of his neck was prickling and he was beginning to think that running away screaming might not be a bad idea.
"It's my fault...I'm afraid," Hannah spoke up from her window. Red turned around to see her peering through the bars solemnly.
"No, no, my dear girl! You mustn't blame yourself!" the orange Fae was quick to jump to Hannah's assurance. "How were you to know?"
"Know what?" Red asked. He was becoming slightly irritated by all the mystery, and not to mention the fact that all his instincts were screaming at him to run out of there now, please.
"You don't want to know," Wolf muttered.
"Well! I'm happy you asked, my dear," the Fae said, ignoring Wolf and beaming at Red. "You see, I have sworn an oath to help the lovely Hannah out of her predicament, in exchange for a small trinket or two as compensation. We were just discussing the transaction to take place on this, the third and what we understand to be the final night of fair Hannah's imprisonment. I have made a tiny, insignificant request of the beautiful maiden, which, alas, she cannot fulfill...But my oath still stands, and I must hold to it, though how I will be able to do that without recompense of some sort is most troubling..."
"What did you want that she can't give you?" Red asked, trying to ignore the gnawing feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach.
"My virginity," Hannah answered matter-of-factly.
Red blinked as his mind took a moment to process this information. Once it had gone through, he raised an eyebrow at the orange Fae.
"If you're just after a roll in the hay, and she's willing to give it to you, what's the big deal?" he asked bluntly.
"Ah, ah, ah!" The Fae wagged an admonishing finger. "It doesn't work like that, I'm afraid! What I want is not quite as simple as that!" he explained. "I want something that can only be given once, to a single person, and never again to any other. She has already given hers away. However, there is some question as to whether or not her pretty little friend is still in possession of hers—"
Suddenly, in a flash, Red knew where this was going. Flushing bright red, he drew himself up to his full height, glaring with all his might at the leering creature before him. "I'm a man, you flamboyant, licentious pouf!" he shouted, clenching his fists in anger.
Silence followed this loud proclamation with varying reactions. Hannah didn't seem at all surprised, but with her particularly unique demeanor it would have been difficult to tell if she had been. Wolf looked very amused, probably remembering a situation similar to the one he was currently party to. The fairy was silent and had a blank look on his face.
"Well," the Fae began, at length. "This is...well...hmmm..."
A tiny ray of hope started to shine down upon Red. Could it be? Was it possible? Was this garishly dressed pervert straight despite all appearance pointing to the contrary? All this--and more--ran through the baker's mind as he prayed to the Higher Powers that this was the truth and that the Fae would get embarrassed and ask for something else in return for his services--or better yet, forget the whole trade thing and just do the spinning for free.
One would think that a decade of crushed hopes and misadventures would have taught Red that the Ironic Overpowers had other plans for him--plans that usually had a liberal amount of misery spread over them like a really thick, sticky strawberry jam.
"How wonderful!" the fairy cried in delight, clapping his hands together in glee and taking in Red's horrified expression with a grin. "I already thought you were very attractive as a girl, but for you to be really a man after all just makes the deal even sweeter!"
Oh, gods, helps me...I think I just turned him on, Red thought in alarm. What was he supposed to do now? As far as he was concerned the Fae had already made up his mind and when fairies decide to do something, they usually ended up doing it at any cost.
As the baker went into a state of mortification from the practically imminent loss of his precious virginity (a topic which was still very sore with him) from his mind spiraling downward with worst case scenarios of doom (and said 'doom' was with Capital, italicized, bold and underlined letters), Wolf spoke up again.
"It isn't your right to decide whether or not you can take Red's virginity, arse-wipe." the silver haired man growled, clenching and unclenching his hands in an effort to keep himself from decking the insufferable fairy. If looks could kill, Wolf's amber eyes would have smote the orange Fae ten times over, resurrected him to clean up the mess, then proceed to rip off his wings, and finally shove him over the edge of a very steep cliff.
The fairy must have realized this, as he hastily continued, "Alright, look...I'll cut you a break. As one who is fair and wise, yet in constant need of attention and..." He paused to ogle Red, who shivered. "...enetertainment, I propose that we leave things to fate...A sort of game of chance, if you will..."
Wolf raised an eyebrow at this, but nodded, prompting the fairy to explain his terms. A game, eh? Well any game could be twisted to a player's advantage as long as they knew how...
"And the game is thus...starting tonight, I'll give you three days to solve the following puzzle: What is my name?"
...unless, of course, the game was fixed to begin with. And the damnable Fae had done just that. How in the world were they supposed to figure out which name out of possible billions was his actual name?
"Three days?" Red asked, finally snapped out of his self-induced pity-party filled with imminent doom. "That's it?"
"Well, actually...it's more like...three nights," the Fae amended, shrugging in a 'what can you do?' sort of way, filthy leer still firmly affixed to his features. "I'll come visit you every night at--say...eight o'clock, and give you lot the opportunity to try and guess at my name until the sun comes up. When that happens, I shall take my leave for the day until your next attempt the following evening. And if you don't get it right by the sunrise of the third night, well..." The orange Fae smirked at them as tangerine, orange, and various other citrus-flavored colored sparkles and smoke surrounded him. All three humans choked on the fumes, which smelt of overly ripe fruit. When the smoke finally receded, the fairy had disappeared, leaving no room for anyone to argue his decision on the subject of payment. If they didn't wish for the count to send Hannah to an early grave, they were stuck to do as he said.
Realizing this, Hannah quietly said, "I'm...so sorry."
"It's alright, Hannah," the men reassured her simultaneously. At that point, the two finally, truly, acknowledge the presence of the other, and were both a little startled to find that they had come practically elbow to elbow during the whole exchange. Red gasped and unconsciously jumped back, though he immediately regretted the action as the other man made a small expression of sadness. The baker tried giving the older man a small smile, which Wolf returned a little shakily.
"Uh...Wolf..."
"Red..."
There was a short, awkward pause in which Red fought furiously to keep from blushing and tried desperately to think of something to say. It was Wolf, however, who finally interrupted the tense silence with a somewhat feral-sounding growl and broke into an agitated rant.
"I'll knock in his jaw! I'll pull off his ears and beat him black and blue! I'll rip off his wings and make doilies out of them! And once I'm done doing that, I'll take him to a healer so I can do it all over again, and smash his fingers and toes besides! Then I'll drag his limp, twisted body all the way to Bella Notte through the wild back-country, commandeer a passing ship, and keel-haul his smarmy ass until he drowns! And then I'll—"
It was at this point that he was completely surprised into shutting up when Red very unexpectedly hugged him.
"Um...?" was all that his very astonished brain could come up with to say.
"Thanks," Red muttered, letting go and backing away slightly, blushing beet-red and looking anywhere but at Wolf. "That's...um, well, that's awfully nice of you, but we're talking about a Fae, so...um...even though I have complete confidence in your ability to do all those things to a normal person, Fae can't generally...er, be treated like that, though." Coughing slightly, he finally worked up the courage to actually look at Wolf, who, he was amused to see, was staring at him with a completely dumbfounded expression.
"Um...if I may...offer a suggestion?" Hannah spoke up quietly from her window, breaking the second awkward silence that had settled upon the group in as many minutes. The two men, grateful for the distraction, each turned to look at her.
"Please," Red said.
"Perhaps it would be best...if you were to...oblige the fairy...at present," she began. Wolf and Red, both familiar with Hannah's slow speech, did not offer any protest at this point, instead waiting silently and patiently for her to continue. "It seems to me...that the only way...to best a Fae...is to beat him at his own game," she said. "Generous as he's been...to me...I find it...in poor taste...that he has...turned his attention on you," she nodded at Red. "There must be...someone...around...who knows...the Fae's name. I would suggest...that one of you...find this person...and ask."
"That seems logical..." Red began, but was interrupted by Wolf.
"I highly doubt that there is anyone around here who knows the poncy bastard's name," the silver-haired man said. "Else he would not be so confident in his proposed guessing game."
"Oh," Red, whose hopes had begun to raise a bit at Hannah's suggestion, found them dragged right back down into the mud. Wolf, noticing the small change in Red's demeanor, stepped closer to him and put a hand on his shoulder. Red gulped audibly and looked up at him, eyes wide.
"But if such a person does exist, rest assured that I will find him, and convince him to tell me what we need to know," Wolf said quietly, leaning down slightly and gazing seriously into Red's eyes.
"Wolf..." Red was, for once, at a loss for words. The way he enunciated Wolf's name, though, told the amber-eyed man more than many thousands of words possibly could. That Red was no longer angry about the masque was quite clear. Perhaps his feelings had changed somewhat over the past few months? He hadn't demanded to know what Wolf was doing here as soon as the citrus-y Fae had disappeared, or requested that he go away, or said any of the other things that he usually said to Wolf when he appeared in the man's life. Wolf felt that he didn't dare hope for some turn-around, but found himself hoping all the same. He reached up and put his free hand on Red's other shoulder, drawing him almost imperceptibly closer. Their faces were inches apart now, and all it would take on either man's part was a slight motion to bring their lips together. Red realized his heart was pounding, and he found himself almost hoping that maybe Wolf would kiss him...
"Besides," Wolf was whispering now, so that only Red could hear what he was saying. "I wanna be your first." He knew immediately that that had been exactly the wrong thing to say when Red's eyes flashed and his nostrils flared, and the smaller man brought the heel of his foot down hard on the toes of Wolf's.
"Pervert!" the usual insult came easily to Red's lips as he backed away, glaring. Wolf grimaced in pain and cursed himself silently. He was willing to wager quite a lot that things would have been alright if he'd just shut up and kissed the man.
"I was joking!" he said, which only elicited a glare from the red-cloaked baker. He wondered if it was only wishful thinking that this angry look didn't have the same potency as many of the earlier ones he'd received. In either case, though, he forced a smile to his lips and gestured grandly. "And with that, I shall away, and I won't return unless I bring with me the name of the fruity little wanker who dares to claim you for his own!" With this proclamation, he made an abrupt about-face and strode off into the woods, trying very hard not favor the foot Red had stomped on until he was out of sight and lost in the trees.