What started out as a bad morning for Cinder the next day when he woke up became much worse almost as soon as he crawled from bed. In fact, it was probably the worst morning in the history of his short human life. First off, the house had been rather deceptively quiet when he'd come downstairs from the attic (a room he had moved into of his own free will, because it was large and private, and a place his sisters wouldn't step foot for fear of spiders or something equally silly). Secondly, he found himself being dragged into town (still dressed in his pajamas) by one of the mansion's former maids and into the glass shop where his sisters were making a ruckus. Thirdly, after he'd sent the harpies shrieking off back to their home, he suddenly found himself drafted at the glass shop...
...by William.
"B-but...what are you doing here?" the young man sputtered, before he remembered his manners and bowed. In public they weren't acquaintances, let alone 'best friends'. The spectacled man blinked in confusion as William sneered at him with a cold, unfamiliar look in his eyes. "William?"
"And who are you," the prince spat coldly, "to talk to me in such a way, peasant?" His words threw Cinder for a loop. Possibly two. As much of an ass as Cinder knew William could be, he could not recall a time when the prince had ever spoken to him in such a fashion. He never acted as his station meant anything (unless he was trying to get his way, but even then, he just acted like a spoilt brat who was a pain in the posterior). Yet here he was, glaring at his lunch-time companion as if all the time they'd spent together over the years meant nothing to him.
Oddly enough, Cinder felt hurt.
"My most sincere apologies, your majesty," Cinder said woodenly, sketching another bow. If it had been William by himself, he wouldn't have bothered. Unfortunately, the prince was accompanied by several high-ranking servants, who would no doubt be shocked and appalled to learn of their prince's casual friendship with such a base commoner. "Please tell your humble servant if there is any way at all that he can assist your esteemed self."
William sniffed haughtily, making it perfectly clear to Cinder that the blond royal highly doubted his ability to 'assist'. "I need glassware," he said, turning away from Cinder and leaning imperiously on the counter to begin studying the articles for display on the shelves behind. "My men have the orders all drawn up for you," with a gesture, William indicated that one of his accompanying servants was to hand over the relevant documents. Cinder took the heavy sheaf of papers from the man with numb fingers, his eyes still fixed disbelievingly on the back of his friend's head.
"You will, of course, be well compensated for your time," the prince continued, turning back to regard Cinder with his icy stare. "I expect the lot no later than the tenth of next month. Someone will be down to collect the order then."
And then, with not even a small sign of farewell, the prince swept from the shop, followed closely by his servants. Cinder stared dumbly after, watching through the shop's front window as the Prince disappeared inside his royal carriage, and the whole procession trundled off, back to (Cinder assumed) Tempus Manor.
Once the whole entourage was completely out of sight, Cinder turned to look at the documents in his hands. He tore open the seal and shifted quickly through the papers--absently noting the large amount of glass dishware the shop was meant to produce in a little over two weeks--searching for some word or missive from William. The two hadn't spoken for a month, not since the farcical archery tournament--and ever since Cinder's sisters had...changed.
There was...nothing. No letter, no note, not even a scribbled "Do your best, you dirty peasant! Nya haha!" left for him to find somewhere in a margin. Just lists of items and quantities, each with specific instructions for style and weight.
Cinder was astonished to find that he felt like crying.
He looked down at the list and was mortified when a few words blurred here and there, and that his glasses were beginning to fog up. Sniffling, he stuffed the list away in a pocket, and made his way to the back of the shop where his master had secreted himself to request a month's stay. At the moment, he didn't care about his sisters--didn't want to think about the consequences of his actions for once. Let the bloody harpies look out for themselves! He didn't want to have time to think about William and his sudden change in demeanor. Even on the prince's worst days, he had never been treated so coldly!
Cinder took off his glasses and quickly wiped his eyes with his sleeve, getting soot all over his face. He sniffled again.
How did life go so wrong?
-------------------------
How in the world had his life gone so wrong? Red usually asked himself this at least once a day, and had for as far back as he could remember. He would have liked to blame it on the day he'd first met Wolf, but he realized that shifting the blame in this case, no matter how tempting it was, wouldn't accomplish much. He knew that the current spiral of doom his life was descending into had less to do with Wolf and more to do with the terrible thing he had just done to the Princess--Prince--of Tempus. To say that he felt sorry would have been an understatement. On the other hand, though, he was currently feeling sorrier for himself than for Princess--er--Prince Briar Rose. All Briar had to do for the next who-knew-how-many-years was sleep peacefully as he waited for his Prince Charming. What Red had to do, on the other hand, was nowhere near as easy.
Before him, for the second time in as many days, loomed the Castle of Half-Evil. Dark clouds circled around its high turrets, and lightning struck at the mountain the castle stood upon at fairly regular intervals. Occasionally, the hooded young man could hear the sounds of someone's desperate cries of despair from within that dark fortress, and it made him shudder, wondering if that was to be his fate one day.
Tugging his hood securely down and making sure he had a firm grip on his basket, Red strode across the narrow bridge to the front gates with as much confidence as he could muster. Once he had made his report, he could leave, and there would be no reason at all for him to ever have to return.
He hoped.
As they had the previous day, the great doors swung open slightly, seemingly of their own accord, once he neared them. Shivering a little in foreboding, Red slipped through the opening and into the castle, where he was once again met by an over-large arachnid.
"Why, hello there, my sweet little morsel!" the matronly spider cooed, shoving its face right up next to Red's. The baker squidged his eyes shut and stood still, rooted to the spot, as the spider began fussing with his hood and straightening his clothes. His heart was beating so quickly and so loudly he was sure that the enormous horror could hear it.
"I take it your mission was a success," it went on serenely, seemingly completely unaware of the affect it was having on Red. "That's so wonderful!" it clapped its two front-most claws together in delight. "Wicked will be soooo pleased, I'm sure! Come along now, come along now, my dear, we mustn't keep him waiting!" and with that, the spider went skittering off into the dark, gloomy depths of the castle. Red waited several moments before he could bring himself to follow.
This second journey through the shadowy interior of the Castle of Half-Evil went much as the previous one, with Red's heart lodged in his throat and Red himself teetering on the very edge of screaming in terror.
"Here we are, my dear," the spider said pleasantly at length. Red tried to ignore the behemoth as he walked up to and past it into Wicked's receiving hall.
"Red!"
He had no time at all to even attempt to recover his composure before the purple fairy had swooped down on him, gathering him into a delighted embrace. Red found his face smashed against Wicked's lithe neck and his body pressed firmly against Wicked's hard, muscular torso. The cloying scent of lavender filled his nostrils as a lock of the fairy's deep purple hair brushed his nose. Wicked's arms were like steel bands around his body, both tenderly holding him and trapping him at the same time.
"Oh, I missed you so much!" the Wicked Fairy cooed, rubbing his face delightedly in Red's hair. It seemed that, for all his precautions in tugging his hood firmly into place beforehand, the piece of material had had no chance against the violent affection of the Fae. "I'm so happy you came back! I had news of your success almost as soon as you did the deed, it seems—That meddlesome Goody Trio wasted no time in coming to confront me about their poor, innocent little princess! Oh, I am so pleased!" With one last snuggle that left Cinder feeling glad he hadn't had any breakfast that morning, the Wicked Fairy set him back on his feet and withdrew very slightly. One softly gloved hand still gently caressing his face.
Feeling more than just a little freaked out--what with meeting up with that blasted spider again and then nearly being smushed to death in Wicked's decidedly manly embrace--Red pulled away with a quick and apologetic bow, in case he offended the Fae. Luckily for him, Wicked was obviously in a very good mood as he merely chuckled at his rather panicked antics. The red-cloaked man reached inside his basket, rummaged carefully through it, then pulled out the cursed spindle. Holding it carefully, he presented it to the Wicked Fairy. A thought occurred to him, and he decided to hand it over to the fae on bended knee.
"Your spindle returned...as ordered." he said. Red didn't look as the offending thing was lifted from his hands and thereafter nonchalantly inspected by Wicked.
"Wonderful work, my sweet," Wicked cooed, stroking the enchanted spindle almost carelessly with one velvet-gloved finger. His deep purple eyes seemed to glow as he gazed down at Red through heavy black lashes. Red tried to suppress a shudder and think of other, happier things...like getting the hell out of there.
"My mission is complete, and I have reported back as requested," Red said, climbing to his feet. Bowing again, he continued, "And so, I'll just be going now..."
He turned to make good on his word, but froze a moment later when he felt a hand on his shoulder. Wicked tsked, and gathered Red's suddenly unresponsive body carefully back into his arms.
"Now, now," the violet one purred, placing his face nose-to-nose with Red's. "You've only just arrived! It would be such a shame if you were to leave so soon!"
"But-but-but," Red managed to stammer out, "I h-have other ch-chores! I-I don't have t-time!"
"Nonsense!" Wicked exclaimed, cuddling Red close. Red had a sudden, awful premonition—the Fae still held the cursed needle; what was to stop him from pricking Red with it? "It's been faar too long since our last encounter, my dear one...and you've grown up so nicely in that time!" As he spoke, the Fae began walking, striding confidently on his bare feet from the receiving hall and out into the corridors. "Surley you can spare a few hours for little ol' me, since we've been apart for so long?"
I'd rather be with Wolf! The errant thought came unbidden to his mind, but, shocking as it was, he realized it was true. The previous day he had thought he would prefer the slimy Fae's company to that of Wolf's, but now that he was in Wicked's company, he knew that he'd made a huge error in judgment. Wolf, while perverted, scruffy, and sometimes severely lacking in personal hygiene, would also, as far as Red knew, never try to take advantage of him without his consent. He hadn't once touched Red in the ten years they'd known each other, (the occasional friendly grope notwithstanding) after all. That had to count for something.
Wicked, on the other hand, clearly was not going to take 'no' for an answer.
"Reed…you weren't just thinking about someone else, were you?" Wicked asked coyly. The Fae had reached his destination by this point – a rather large, if somewhat empty, room. Seating himself on the lone chair in the center of the dark, gloomy space, Wicked shifted Red so that the young man was sitting in his lap. He held up the spindle, and Red had to fight from flinching as the Fae ran it along his cheek. He stared at the needle at the end, still dotted with a bit of Briar Rose's blood, as it moved along his skin and, thankfully, not quite piercing it…yet. For there was no doubt now in Red Reaper's mind now that this crazed Fae was going to use it against him. The man had to fight from letting out a pathetic whimper. He had to do something before he was in real trouble. "Because…it would just be such a shame…"
"N-no…r-r-really. I have to be getting along now, Wicked Fairy, sir." Red stammered, trying to move away without getting himself punctured into slumber-land. He vaguely remembered how the spindle worked on people who weren't the princess--er--youngest prince of Tempus. And he surely didn't want to have to come under Wicked's perverted hands because he fell asleep on the job. The man felt like crying again, just so he could try to summon his godmother for some help, but his eyes didn't seem to be working properly—certainly he was terrified enough to want to bawl his eyes out, but for some reason, the tears just wouldn't come.
Wicked smiled down at Red, holding his rather panicked gaze, and tightened his hold on the younger man as he tutted softly. He lowered his face to nuzzle Red's neck, finding much delight in how this caused the baker to freeze. It was really too amusing for him. He brought the spindle beneath Red's cloak and let it trail up along the man's spine, smirking as he shuddered and arched into him in an attempt to get away from the needle.
Oh, god! Oh, god, oh, god, oh, god, oh, god, oh, god…somebody help me! Red thought to himself, trying to block out what was happening. Normally, when a guy tried molesting him, he'd have many ways of deterring the pervert--and then some--so he could run away for his dear, dear life. In this case, however, one false move meant that he could be toast. He needed to make a plan of escape! Where had his dastardly genius mind gone to?
"Eeeeeyargh!" Red shrieked as he felt Wicked's tongue on his neck.
Alright, so his mind had obviously clocked out for the duration. Poor Red.
Where's Wolf when you need him? Red thought to himself as he felt the smallest of pricks on his behind. It was like a very small, almost unnoticeable pinch of skin. He blinked, and suddenly felt very tired. His eyes were heavy and his body felt numb…
"My darling Red, you need to relax more…" Wicked purred as he cradled Red, who was soon lost in a deep, deep sleep. Straightening from his seated position, he swooped Red's unresisting body into his arms and conjured a mattress and lots of cushions. He placed him upon the cushions, smirking. "Ah, my little Red…you weigh almost nothing…Did you know that? Oh, you look so sweet lying like this…" A gloved hand came up to stroke a freckled cheek. "…And now you're mine…and only mine…for a very long time. We're going to have fun playing together, aren't we?"
Wicked growled softly as he undid the ties of Red's cheerful little cape, looming over him. Cheerfully, he kissed the spindle in his hand before tossing it carelessly over his shoulder.
"Oh, yes. We're going to have so much fun."
------------------------------
"I'd weep, but I think I've gone into the 'no crying zone', Arachne." Cinder said as he poked at his food. It was his lunch break at the glass shop. Usually he'd spend the time with William out in the fields near the forest (and he had waited to see if the prince would come take him away as he always had before), but with no sign of the irritating blond royal, he'd decided it best if he took his meal with a friendly face instead of eating by himself. That friendly face had ended up being Arachne, his childhood friend, whose shop was just down the street from his own. "Then again…I am a man. And men don't exactly pour their hearts out and cry like little nancy boys."
Arachne (who had just changed her hair color to electric blue early that morning) sighed and poured some tea for the younger man, who gratefully accepted it and drank it all down in one gulp, never mind the scalding heat. "Men cry. I've seen it before. They just…do it way deep down, inside their hearts, is all…" she told him, rather lamely. She had never been good at cheering people up. Her best tactic when dealing with unhappy people was to chat up a storm and hope for the best.
"He's your best friend, Cinder. I'm sure he's just all stressed out because of what happened to his family and the fact that the responsibility of the kingdom has just fallen on his shoulders."
"He didn't have to be such a cold jerk about it." Cinder spat, setting his teacup down with more force than really necessary.
"Prince William has always been a jerk." Arachne pointed out as she re-filled Cinder's teacup. "Especially to women. Makes me wonder who I should feel more sorry for…William or the poor wretch he's going to have to marry." She continued, frowning just a bit. She looked at her friend to see how he would react to this bit of gossip, and was surprised when he got up from his seat and went to beat his head against the wall.
"CINDER!" Cinder stopped mid-bash to regard her. A small trickle of blood made its way slowly down his forehead.
"What?"
"What are you doing?" Arachne exclaimed.
"My mother is ill, my sisters have turned into evil harpies, and my best friend hates me. Excuse me as I get emotional about this." He hit his head another time against the wall, earning him quite the splitting headache. "And as if that weren't enough…my cousin is a two-bit thief who runs around wearing tights with a bunch of sweaty men all day, and he's a cheat and a liar besides."
Arachne gave him a look, puzzled. "What?"
Cinder shook his head and sat back down. He picked up a napkin and dunked it into his tea. Once it was sufficiently damp, he began to clean himself up with it. "Never mind, Arachne…Life just sucks right now…" He didn't particularly feel like explaining anything to the woman—at least, not properly. For if he did, that meant explaining about William and himself, not to mention their little meetings out in the woods and the archery tournament and Robin—good heavens, Robin! He sighed.
Arachne looked at him worriedly. Before he'd met William, she and Cinder had spent a lot of time together as the best of friends. They'd played lots of games together, their favorite being 'make believe'. He had always pretended to be the dashing ranger (even as a child, he loved the bow and arrow), while she would be his beloved ageless elf lady. They had even shared a few slightly naughty kisses once Cinder had become interested in that sort of thing, and even though nothing had come of it afterwards--
"Ouch! Damn, did I hurt myself?" Cinder muttered quietly, carefully probing his abused forehead.
"Of course, you did, silly!" Arachne chastised.
--Arachne still cared enough for Cinder that seeing him like this broke her heart. She had to do something, but what?
The seamstress sighed as she stood up to go and get a proper washcloth. She soaked it in cool water, wrung it out, and then brought it over to the young glass-smith. She carefully removed his glasses, took his napkin away, and began to gently clean away the blood and soot from his face. She gave him a small smile as he looked at her.
"So, tell me, Cinder…What's really got you so worked up about our esteemed Crowned Prince?"
He hadn't wanted to tell her--he hadn't intended to at all, actually. But there was so much love and sympathy in her green eyes that he felt himself give in. As best he could, he explained to her the details of their odd relationship. She finished cleaning his face and sat back down across the table from him, and still he continued to talk.
"He practically proposes marriage to me every time we see each other," Cinder found himself saying. "And he always sounds so serious! But then, he's always serious. I don't think I've ever heard him crack a joke since I've known him, and I've known him for a while now! And that's another thing..."
Arachne listened quietly as Cinder babbled, watching him carefully as he talked. She only interrupted when she glanced at the clock on the wall and saw that Cinder's lunch break had been over for about ten minutes.
"Cinder, love," she broke in gently, just as the man was beginning to spin off on yet another William-centric tangent.
"What?" he asked, blinking owlishly at her from behind his glasses.
"Why don't we finish talking later? You need to get back to work," she told him. Cinder spun around and looked at the clock, then cursed. Picking up his practically uneaten lunch, he stood and hurried out of the kitchen and into Arachne's cluttered shop. The seamstress followed behind him and saw him out the door. When she turned, she caught sight of her mother, lurking quietly in the shadows at the back of the shop.
"How much did you hear?" she asked, closing the door.
"Enough," Arachnia responded in her dry voice.
"What do you reckon?"
"Sounds besotted to me."
"That's what I thought, too," Arachne said, tapping her chin thoughtfully with one finger.
"You're planning something," her mother accused, but with a hint a smile in her voice.
"Naturally," Arachne agreed easily, smiling herself.
----------
Cinder returned to work at once, pausing in his dash from the front door to his workbench only briefly to apologize to his master for being late. The man merely grunted and continued with his own work. Cinder rummaged for a moment around his bench, and quickly located his copy of the prince's glassware order. He couldn't help but smile a bit at the memory of the last order the prince had placed through the glass-shop...
-----------------
The day after the archery tournament had begun fairly inauspiciously Susan and Marie had taken to their rooms, each with a small fever that nevertheless had them feeling out-of-sorts enough to remain in bed well past the time they would normally be up and about, cheerfully helping the kitchen staff fix breakfast, or perhaps going out into the garden for a bit of weeding before the morning meal.
While he was worried about his sisters, he knew them to be in capable hands between his step-mother and her personal maid, and so had left the house at his regular time to make his way into town to work.
Things picked up once Cinder arrived at the glass shop. Even before he was quite finished with his morning chores, a fabulously appointed coach stopped in front of the shop. Cinder watched through the window in bemusement as he saw Prince William descend from within, accompanied by a footman and two servants. His friend entered the glass shop in his usual imperious manner, walked straight up to the counter behind which Cinder stood, and carefully placed a long, narrow package on the rough wooden surface.
"How can I help you, my lord?" Cinder asked, bowing.
"I require arrows, my good man," William informed him with a small quirk of his eyebrow.
"Arrows?" Cinder raised his eyebrows, surprised. William blinked once, slowly, and smirked ever so slightly. Cinder was hard-pressed not to grin at the sight of that familiar expression.
"Indeed." William flipped the soft fabric covering the narrow parcel back, and Cinder beheld one of his very own glass arrows.
"Were you, by any chance, at the archery tournament yesterday?" William asked in a bored tone, curling the fingers of his left hand and examining his perfectly manicured fingernails in a disinterested sort of way.
"I uh...saw a bit of it, yes, your grace," Cinder responded, wondering what his friend was leading up to. He wished William's servants weren't watching him so attentively--it was rather unnerving.
"Hmm. Then were you aware that the young woman who won ran away before she could claim her prize?"
Cinder held back a snort of amusement. If it weren't for the presence of those damnable servants, he would be openly snickering at this point.
"I had heard something to that effect, yes," he said instead, picking up the arrow and pretending to examine it.
"Most remarkable archer, really," William said in an off-hand manner. Cinder felt a warm glow in his gut at the compliment. "No one realized until after she had run off that she'd been using arrows made of glass. Not the easiest things to fire properly, from what I understand,"
Cinder had to fight down a smile at this second indirect compliment. "Indeed, sir, it is quite difficult to successfully keep glass arrows from shattering upon impact."
"Yes. Well. I need, oh, about two hundred of these made, to be finished in the next three days," William said, flicking his hand in the direction of the arrow Cinder still held. "A search is being held to find the lucky lass and force her to claim her prize. Since none of the officials got a really good look at her, we are forced to search her out by locating all likely-looking damsels and having them fire glass arrows at a target. I expect it will end in failure." He added dryly, raising his left eyebrow ever so slightly as he regarded Cinder coolly.
"I shall begin right away, your grace," Cinder said, bowing deeply to hide his amused smirk from William's servants.
"Excellent! Here is the first half of your payment." William withdrew a fat pouch from beneath his cloak and held it out to Cinder. Cinder reached out to accept it, his fingers brushing William's briefly as the exchange was made. He felt a small thrill of...something...in his stomach at the small contact, and glanced up into William's eyes. In contrast with the rest of his friend's handsome, cold features, his ice-blue eyes were practically smoldering with some unknown emotion. Cinder gulped and bowed again. He rose just in time to catch sight of William's smirk as he turned regally and strode from the small shop.
The search to find William's destined bride had, as the prince had predicted, ended in failure. Any female archer worth her salt in and around Tempus had been at the competition, and so all those were automatically disqualified from the search. The remaining tall, plain, dark-haired females to be found had not stood a chance, and so William had once more escaped from the jaws of wedded matrimony.
Cinder heard this all by way of town gossip, as he had very suddenly found himself to be the sole servant of his very suddenly, dramatically changed step-sisters. He would have given anything to have heard the whole farcical tale from William's mouth, to hear the dry, amused-bordering-on-disgusted tone his friend would use when relating the story...
---------------
That encounter with William had been so, so different from the one just this morning. Then, William had been all smirks and quirking eyebrows and subtle communications. This morning, William had been...a stranger.
No, even if he was dealing with intense stress from the tragic occurrence at Tempus Castle, Cinder knew that there was no way his friend would purposefully treat him in such a manner. There must be some explanation, some reason, for it all...
As he thought, he worked. For the longest time, no ideas came to him, though he finished plate after plate and glass after glass in the mean-time.
Then it occurred to him: Susan and Marie had been flapping about the shop this morning, for reasons unknown to Cinder. He had witnessed first-hand the sort of effect that the two had on even the most straight-edge, faithful men. There was some sort of foul magic surrounding the pair, something that affected any man within spitting distance...Except for Cinder, who was for some reason unaffected. Possibly because they looked on him as a brother, and not a potential marriage partner, as they did with practically any other handsome man in sight...
Cinder nearly gasped as realization hit him--Not the wisest action to perform when one is blowing on a tube connected to swirling, iridescent molten glass, it has to be said. Fortunately, he restrained himself, and continued working, even as his thoughts churned wildly: What had the two girls been babbling about only yesterday when the invitation to the masque had arrived...? Only how one of them would snag and marry William! They had somehow gotten their claws into his best friend, worked their terrible magic on him, and as a consequence...
...No, it couldn't be true. Could it? There was no other explanation, though, nothing that made even half as much sense occurred to him. William, his best friend, the person he cared about more than anyone else in the world, had somehow fallen under the devious spell of Marie and Susan.
He was not going to stand for it! By the powers vested in him he was going to get his best friend back even if it cost him his life. He would fight tooth and nail against the forces of evil for him! Brave the deepest, darkest of underground caves, fighting against goblins and trolls with only a blunt, rusted sword and a jar of jelly beans. No one could stand against him as long as he--
"Cinder! Stop dilly-dallying and get back to work!" shouted Cinder's master, surprising the young man out of his (rather heroically narrative) reverie.
--finished his work before he set off on his quest to snap William out of his sisters' spell...
Too bad he had no idea where to begin.
-------------
There were a few things in life that the Big Bad Wolf prided himself on. One was his high tolerance for alcohol of all kinds. In his thirty odd years of life, he had only lost a drinking contest once, but he swore up, down, and sideways that it was only because he'd already had quite a bit to drink before they'd begun, and so he'd been at a disadvantage. Another was his remarkable skill at gambling. Most people claimed that his incredible success came from loads of luck, but Wolf privately thought that was a bunch of bull. Winning a hand of poker was all about skill--cheating was a skill, after all, and Wolf had refined the ability into an art form. He was also quite good at tracking and roughing it. He could navigate even unfamiliar forests with little to no trouble--no doubt the legacy of his great-grandfather, who, unlike the present-day Wolf, had been a real wolf. But that is a fairy tale for another day.
Currently, however, Wolf was most grateful for his carefully acquired sneaking skills. If he wasn't so good at being stealthy and quiet, he was quite sure that he would probably have been caught by one of the unsavory creatures that called the Castle of Half-Evil home the moment he had snuck inside. He also figured that the fact that the master of the fortress was otherwise occupied factored into his continued success at remaining undetected.
He had been quietly following Red ever since the younger man had left Tempus Kingdom. He'd suspected something was amiss when he'd heard Red muttering to himself on the road--something about sickos and perverts, and oh, he wanted to kill his godmother for making him do all these stupid chores. Clearly he'd not been able to finish his 'chores' in Tempus. Wolf knew from extensive experience (which involved a lot of quiet stalking on his part) that Red was usually very cheerful after successfully checking the last chore off his list, and was prone to skipping and humming merrily in celebration. The resentful hunch of his shoulders and aggravated stomping of his feet as he'd walked along the road did not speak of successful completion and a job well done. At least, not to Wolf.
And so he had followed the youth, all the way to the Wicked Fairy's castle. He'd had a spot of trouble with the Bridge Fae, but had avoided any mischief the small red-haired creature might have bestowed upon him by punching him unconscious and tying his small, limp form to a nearby outcropping using his long red hair as a rope. Wolf smirked and suppressed a snigger as he imagined what the Fae would do upon regaining consciousness only to find that his head was tied very securely to a rock by his hair.
Bringing his mind back to the here and now, he watched from the shadows as a large spider trundled past the dark alcove in which he had hidden himself. It was muttering to itself in a sort of raspy sing-song. Wolf thought he caught the words 'delicious little virgin' and 'good with a bit of salt', and frowned. If the delicious little virgin was Red (who else could it be?), then he certainly couldn't allow the young man to be eaten. Not with salt, at least. No, it was fluffy whipped cream and chocolate sprinkles or nothing, as far as Wolf was concerned. Salt just wouldn't do.
Slipping back into the corridor once the spider was safely out of sight, Wolf made his way deeper into the castle. He wasn't quite sure he knew where he was going, but figured that his instincts would guide him.
Eeeeeyargh!"
Or the dulcet tones of a young baker's voice. Wolf felt a shiver creep down his spine. Red. The terror and disgust in the shriek spurred him on--and now he knew he was going in the right direction. He just hoped he could arrive to do something before...whatever was happening to Red happened.
He carefully crept along until he found himself near the entrance to the Fae's throne room. Once there, he was appalled at what he bore witness to. The Wicked Fairy was all over his Red. The damn Fae was touching him in places he had so far only fantasized about touching. He was caressing him in ways he' only ever day-dreamed about!
Wolf's ire was slowly growing with each flickering touch, his knuckles becoming white as he clenched his hands. He repressed a snarl as he watched through a crack in the doorway. He wanted to get his hands on the blasted Fae and rip him bloody piece from bloody piece. But he had to be patient—the Fae's magic was strong, and Wolf knew that a head-on attack would have no effect whatsoever. All he could do was watch and hope that the Farie would turn his back to the door long enough for Wolf to sneak up behind him...
His breath caught in his throat and his body chilled with horror as he saw Wicked do something to the cloaked man--enchanted him, no doubt.. He saw Red's body slump in the Fae's arms and then put onto a magically conjured mattress filled with soft cushions.
He clenched his teeth.
"Red..."
He could no longer see what the Wicked Fairy was doing to Red, his view blocked by the lean, muscular length of the Fae. The Fairy's back was to Wolf, however, and the man saw his chance. As Wicked murmured quietly to the unconscious youth, Wolf slipped even more quietly into the room and crept, very carefully, up behind the Fairy. He noted very briefly that the Fae was probably about seven or so inches taller than his own six-foot-one--not that it mattered overly much at the moment, as the vile creatures was bent predatorily over the prone form of Red.
"Oh, yes. We're going to have so much fun." Wicked cooed, tracing one velvet-clad finger over Red's freckled face.
Like hell you are! Wolf thought as he joined his hands together over his head and brought them down heavily at the base of the Wicked Fairy's pale neck.
"Oof!"
And with that, Wicked was out like a light. Wolf didn't give him the chance to slump gracefully over Red, however. He grabbed a handful of purple hair and yanked violently, pulling the Fae's surprisingly light body away from Red. Vindictively, he dragged Wicked away from the magically conjured bed and over to the throne, and set about tying him to the spiky, angular silver structure by his long flowing hair. He didn't take as long as he would have wished, but was reasonably satisfied that the sleaze-ball's hair would be a right mess when he finally managed to get it un-knotted.
Returning to the bed, he quickly wrapped the slumbering Red in his cloak and gathered him into his arms, reveling in the feel of the other man's slim body against his. Hugging Red protectively against himself, Wolf strode from the throne room of the Wicked Fairy and back out into the castle, intent on a quiet, unnoticed escape.
He crept as quietly and carefully as possible with the added weight of the unconscious Red in his arms. His amber eyes darted about corners, checking for any of Wicked various henchmen (most likely creepy crawlies, if the giant spider was anything to tell from). When he saw that his path was clear, he'd move onward, making his way to the entrance. He couldn't wait to get out of the Castle of Half-Evil and to get his Red back to life--even if it meant that he'd be sporting a few new bruises and shrugging off various creative insults. And even though it most certainly meant that the young man would run away from him again.
But that was how life was. Wolf figured that he still had a while yet to win his Red over, however, and so wasn't too concerned. So, rescue mission first, lots of comfort sex afterwards. That thought made him go a little faster, and made him just a bit more careless.
He made it safely out of the castle, but just as he was about to cross the threshold into the caverns of the dark and dank mountain path to the road, he missed something that someone with even a bad sense of observation couldn't have missed. Clearly he'd gotten carried away in his daydreams of possible rewards from the still-slumbering youth in his arms. Wolf took a step back, a small growl emanating from the back of his throat as he beheld the giant spider which had appeared to block the way. He would have started barking, too, but that didn't seem too appropriate (nor quite sane, if he thought about it--he was a wolf, after all, not a dog).
The giant arachnid had caught sight of him, and was eying him with a decidedly unfriendly gleam in its various beady black eyes. Wolf only had a few moments to consider what to do before the behemoth charged, chittering angrily. He caught something about "Master Wicked's precious snack!" as he dodged the spider's first attack, clinging tightly to his burden with both arms. He almost overbalanced, but caught himself just in time to get away from his attacker's second assault--the bugger was fast!
The creature hissed and scrabbled after him, legs alternately churning madly as he jumped out of range and jerking and stabbing as it drew near enough to attempt a strike. Wolf tightened his hold on Red, determined not to drop or surrender him. Unfortunately, with his arms so occupied, there really wasn't a whole lot he could do to defend himself against the spider's lightning-fast attacks. It was all he could do to dodge out of the way.
As he danced around the spider, trying to think of some plan of attack or escape, he realized too late that the creature had herded him back towards the Wicked Fairy's castle and, it probably went without mentioning, the long, doomful drop into a lake of boiling lava.
----------
The Demonic Overpower of Irony (henceforth to be referred to as 'Apple' to save time on typing) blinked. She gave two blinks more, which were then followed by three extra flutters of her eyelids. She looked at her counterpart. "Wait, what? Since when did he have a lake of boiling lava?" The Angelic Overpower of Irony (henceforth to be referred to as 'Kiwi', same reason as the demon) regarded her quietly.
"Who, dearest?" she asked in reply.
"Wicked!" Apple said, with a not-so-tiny pout. "Since when did he have a lake of boiling lava?" the demon repeated herself.
"Since ever." Kiwi stated.
Apple glanced at her counterpart, who was sipping her tea, before looking back down at the events unfolding before them. She reached under the parlor table and pulled out a full bottle of cream soda. She shook her head as she uncapped it. "Really? I don't remember that."
"Then your mind must be going, dearest." Was all the angel had to say. The demon, who looked a little put out, turned her best puppy-dog eyes on her one and only companion.
"Angel, don't tell me you're still upset about that incident with the sisters…"
"I am deaf. I can hear nothing." Kiwi sang, sticking her fingers into her ears. She sang this a few more times as Apple tried to beg her forgiveness over and over to the point where she started groveling on the floor. This lasted for at least an astral hour (about a half of a quarter of a millionth divided by distance per opened erotic book of a split second times a kumquat, in regular time) before anything productive happened.
"Oh, alright." Kiwi sighed, glowering at the pathetic excuse for a demon (who was crying on the hem of her formerly pristine white dress). "I forgive you."
At this, Apple finally managed to stop bawling her eyes out and nearly tackled her darling angel out of her chair in a bear hug. "My angel loves me again!" she declared to the world at large. As she said this, somewhere in the midst of Wolf's struggles and Cinder's angst, a giant ball of love befell the castle of Half-Elven and there was much chaos…but with lots of love. Loving chaos or lovely chaos or chaotic love even. Take your pick.
"So…would Angel object if your loving, devoted, loyal little demon goes down to do her second duty of the day?" Apple asked, batting her eyes at Kiwi. The angel sighed, knowing that she should probably learn to say 'no'. Someday.
---------
Wolf was in trouble. In front of him there stood not one, but two enormous spiders--a second monstrosity had appeared shortly after the first--multiple black eyes gleaming, over-sized fangs dripping with saliva or possibly something more sinister. Behind him was not much better--a long drop to what looked to be a rather painful death. He was out of room to dodge from side to side, caged in as he was between the two behemoth arachnids to the fore and the sheer cliff to the rear.
"What shhhall we do with thisss one?" hissed one of the spiders to the other.
"Looks stringy and tough, methinks," the second one responded in a slightly less hissing voice.
"We'll jussst have to marinate it well then before we eatsss it," the first one responded.
"Oh, I should think so!" the second one replied. "But first we must retrieve the master's snack, otherwise he might marinate us!"
"Indeed ssso!" the first spider agreed, lunging forward and grasping at Wolf with its two front-most legs. Wolf dodged back yet again, and his breath caught in his throat when his heel caught on the edge of the precipice. He managed to recover his balance, but it was a close call nonetheless.
"Careful, careful! We mustn't let the master's snack burn!"
No need to tell me that, thought Wolf, clutching even more tightly to Red. He wished he could put the younger man down so that he could get out his knife and have a go at his attackers, but he didn't dare. He figured that if he were distracted by just one of them, the other could collect Red and spirit him off back into the depths of the dark castle. While he'd successfully infiltrated the place once, he was almost positive that he wouldn't be able to do it a second time. Well, there's only one thing for it, he thought, coming to a decision, just a split second before the spider on his left jabbed out once more with its leg.
Wolf pitched forward, tucking his chin to his collar, and somersaulted between the spiders somewhat more awkwardly than he had anticipated, given he was rolling around Red's small but not insignificant form. He righted himself as quickly as he could and half-turned before he was smacked painfully in the head by a hairy, flailing leg. He tottered and stumbled backwards, shaking his head to clear his vision, which had suddenly decided to not work properly. Instead of showing him a pair of dripping-fanged, gigantic spiders advancing upon him from a dark, gloomy background of bare volcanic rock, which is what he expected, it insisted on showing him a calm, peaceful forest.
He jerked his head around, eyes darting back and forth as he searched for some sign of the spiders. He listened as hard as he could, but the only sounds that reached his ears were quiet, peaceful forest noises coupled with his own panting breath. The most ominous sound that could be heard was the noise of a woodpecker some distance off, and the only living creature in sight was a large, innocently blinking grey squirrel.
I must be dead, was Wolf's first thought. Dead and in heaven, was his second, for he still held the unconscious form of Red within his arms. Slowly spinning in place, Wolf tried to figure out what had occurred in the split second between him being whacked in the head and standing in the middle of a quiet, spider-free wood.
After several minutes of fruitless pondering, Wolf decided that he probably ought to return his thoughts to more important matters: Namely, waking Red up so that they could get on with the comfort sex.
He went about it in a variety of ways. After he had propped the dark haired man against a tree, he began the process of waking Red up. He poked and prodded in the most sensitive of places, in hopes of getting a response. No, not there, you perverts! Under the arms, his neck--anywhere where Wolf knew that Red was ticklish. When that didn't work, he began screaming in his ears, making a loud racket. The forest animals even joined in with the noise-making, thinking that Wolf was having some sort of strange woodland party.
But that worked about as well as tickling had--that is to say, not at all. He briefly pondered attempting to wake Red up by poking him with a stick, but thought better of it--especially when he considered the terrible innuendo that even he wouldn't touch with the proverbial ten-foot pole.
Red remained unresponsive, as if he were truly dead, though the telltale signs of his chest rising and falling proved otherwise. Wolf looked at the man's peaceful freckled face with despair. What had that blasted fairy done to his one and only? He reached out with a hand to stroke Red's cheek tenderly.
"Red…" Wolf whispered, in pure misery. Was this it? Was this how their story was going to end? What would happen to their 'ever after'? For even though Red had never shown any inclination to accept his attentions, Wolf still held out the hope that one day, Red would finally open his eyes and see what had been waiting patiently for him all along, despite the constant teasing-bordering-on-harassment.
One would think that a man as sexually aware as Wolf would have jumped at the chance to molest his little Red whenever it arose. And he did, repeatedly. As painful as they were sometimes, he liked the younger man's heated responses to his teasing, and the bright tomato-cherry-red blushes that would come to his cheeks. He'd borne it for almost ten years. Ten long, almost agonizing years of chasing and following and hoping. It was unrealistic, how he had continued to follow after the man in the red hood despite everything that transpired between them. Especially since, even after all this time, Red showed hardly any signs of opening up to him.
And now…
"…Red…" Wolf called softly, nudging him with his nose. No response. He gave a shuddering sigh. "I'm sorry, Red. Sorry I couldn't do anything…I guess it's finally time to say good-bye, my bonnie lad."
To bid his farewell, he did the one thing he had not allowed himself to do for many a long year…something he had only done once before, in all his years of pursuing Red.
He kissed him.
