Submitted: 6/2/11. A/N: I must be mad to finish another one so quickly.
"Tom!" shouted Lynn, pushing herself upright on the bed.
She blinked a few times to adjust her eyes to the gloom. "Oh. That's right," she said aloud. "I didn't find him last night." She lowered herself back down then rolled over and sat up. She rubbed her eyes and yawned widely. Men's voices and the clatter of dishes floated into her room; strange, she didn't usually oversleep. Shaking her head to rid it of its sleepiness she got up and washed her face at the small basin. She combed her fingers through her hair and brushed her teeth with a small wooden toothbrush made of a soft wood Rob had given her. She tied her hair up into a neat ponytail, put on her tunic and observed herself in the basin of water. Time to find Tom.
When she finally entered the main chamber of the cave she found that breakfast was indeed in full swing. She found a seat and served herself a plate of eggs, all the while keeping an eye out for Tom. She didn't see him at first only because the huddle of men surrounding him obscured him from view. She was seated too far away to talk to him directly and she didn't want to cause a scene by calling his name out aloud. Only after the men had settled down and started tucking into their own meals did she catch sight of his face. Her heart fell. He was staring with a slight frown into his plate, pushing the food around with his fork listlessly. He looked so serious; so sad- so unlike the carefree Tom she used to know.
She glanced across the table to try catch his eye, trying to tell him that she wanted to talk to him. Barty had told her that Tom agreed to speak to her, that he wasn't angry with her, but that she should give him space. He'd told her what happened.
Finally, after a multitude of covert glances, one of the men beside Tom nudged him and gestured in her direction with a fork. Tom listened with a small frown on his face then looked directly at her across the table. She blushed and looked down. Timidly, she raised her head and found that he was still looking at her. She gestured her head towards the entrance of the cave and saw him nod. He pushed his plate forwards and stood up. She hurried to do the same and quickly followed him out.
By the time she'd gotten out she just made it in time to see his head disappearing around the edge of the cliff, much like it had when they first met. The memory of it earned her a quick smile. She hurried down the steps after him, neither of them speaking a word until they had reached the bottom. Tom stopped with his back to her and picked up a few smooth pebbles. Lynn landed the last step and stood not far from him. She had wanted to talk to him all night and now she didn't know what to say.
"Barty said you wanted to speak to me," said Tom, still facing out towards the sea, pebbles skipping effortlessly under his expert hand.
"Yes," she said. "I looked for you for ages yesterday but I couldn't find you. What time did you come back?" He shrugged noncommittally. She sighed. "Are you still mad at me?"
"'Course not." She didn't like the flatness of his voice. She didn't like the way she couldn't see what he was thinking or feeling. She didn't like how it sounded like he was just telling her what she wanted to hear.
"Then why won't you look at me?"
He did turn around then, slowly. He looked down at the smoothed rocks still in his hands. She could tell straight away that he hadn't slept at all. He looked so tired. There was something different about his eyes too; they looked older, more mature. Like he had seen and understood more- more than perhaps he would have liked. The sight tugged at her heart.
"Barty told me what happened," she said, barely above a whisper. "Are you... alright?"
She saw him shake his head, almost to himself. "No one could remember all tha' and be alright, Lynn." He sounded broken. "I'm not angry at you," he said more normally, looking up to face her properly this time, as though to add truth to his words by the gesture. But the look in his blue eyes betrayed him.
"Yes you are," she countered. "If you weren't you wouldn't be treating me like a stranger."
"Like how you were treating me, then?" he said, eyes flaring and she saw some of his old self returning to him.
She wasn't trying to provoke him on purpose but this silent, reserved Tom- this Tom who wouldn't even look at her when he spoke, was beginning to get to her. She knew that he had been through horrible things, that he had probably spent all night recounting them, that the memories would no doubt keep him up for countless nights more; she had seen the effect it had had on the other men. She knew that it was important that he was given time to heal, but remembering that what mattered was the here and now was important too. She held his gaze.
"The Captain wouldn't let me tell you."
"But I coulda helped!" he said, his anger finally leaking out as he raised his hands in annoyance. The pebbles made little splashes in the sand. "It was so stupid for you all to try protect me like that! If you jus' told me what was goin' on, do you think I woulda put my own comfor' before helping out?"
"You wouldn't have," she agreed. "That was why the Captain didn't want to tell you. He said that if you didn't have to remember then he wouldn't make you." She saw him hide a grimace. "It's not like you wouldn't be helping out, Tom. We weren't going to just let you sit around doing nothing," she said gently with a weak attempt at making a joke.
"Yeah, well maybe now I can do something more," he said more quietly. He lifted his head again. "I'm not mad at you, Lynn. Honest. I'm just... frustrated you all figured I'd rather be left outta the plan than hafta face my memories." He rubbed the back of his neck in a very Tom-like way. "Guess I oughta feel flattered." She didn't say anything as he leaned his head back and closed his eyes. He breathed in deeply and reopened them. "Listen, the Cap'n said he wanted to speak to me. I should probably go."
"Alright," she said, sighing quietly. "Bye, Tom."
He left without another word and Lynn followed the sight his back moving quickly up the steps before sitting down on the sand with her knees drawn up to her chest. Her shoulders slumped. She couldn't seem to do anything right by Tom these days.
...
If he had been listening closely enough, if his heart hadn't been beating loud enough to echo throughout the room, then the Prince was sure he'd have been able to hear the sound his soul made when he saw the girl's face. It would be a ripping sound; like the sound of silk being torn.
He could not believe his eyes. It was impossible.
"What is your name?" he asked, just to make sure.
"Ll…Lynn, sir," she stammered. "Gwendolyn Darling."
Gwendolyn, he repeated mentally as his heartbeat slowed, Gwendolyn. Of course it would be impossible. His eyes roamed over her, making note of the details instantly. The hair and eyes were same, but this girl was fairer- and younger. Of course it was not her. Of course it wasn't. How could it have been? He had been foolish to even consider-
He had dismissed her almost immediately.
He remained in his throne room for a long time afterwards, his face cradled in one hand as he thought furiously. How foolish it was of him to even consider it. But the likeness was so strong that even he could be forgiven for making that mistake. He still did not enjoy the feeling that face resurrected. His heart had long since slowed but he could still feel the agony the sheer sight of her face had brought him. Oh how he hated being so vulnerable; the damned cut had reopened with just a glance. How pathetic.
He grimaced involuntarily. He hadn't felt it so fully open in a long time. It brought with it a sort of gaping numbness, as though there were an actual physical hole blowing through him. He would have to send for one of the girls soon to help heal it.
Again the new one's face appeared in his mind. He had been harsher with her than he would have usually been but that was mainly out of shock. Still, he would have to see her one more time if not to just to put his unsettled mind at ease.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
He watched her closely as she entered. She was wearing the red dress; it surprised him that it actually fit her properly. She began talking without invitation and he took the opportunity to complete the previous night's observation. His eyes behind his mask were drawn to her face and again he was jilted by the uncanny similarities he found there; the curve of her cheek; the swathe of eyelashes that trailed across her cheekbones; the mass of dark brown hair that tumbled across her bare shoulders. There were slight differences in the colouring of her skin and the way this girl held herself- almost too straight- but the likeness was still choking. He could not separate the yearning to memorise the details from the desire to pick out a flaw in the resemblance. He tore his gaze away from her and tried to concentrate instead on the words she was speaking. It sounded like a story of some sort, one he was not entirely familiar with. Her voice as she spoke grew more animated, the tremor leaving it momentarily.
"This tale is new to me," he said once she had finished, gaze lowered, her hands folded neatly in her lap. "Though I do not understand all the characters' actions, it was pleasant. Perhaps you would explain them." These meetings always made him more gregarious than he was used to.
"If you wish, sire." She looked up and again the striking similarity of her green eyes was enough to make him retreat into his shell of cold indifference.
"Perhaps another time." His eyes did not leave her until she had exited the room and her eyes were wide and frightened as she caught him watching her. It left a twinge in his cut; that particular expression on so familiar a face felt distinctly unpleasant. He closed his eyes as the door shut.
His behaviour was intolerable. To think he could be so affected by a mere look-alike! Even so, he could not understand why it was affecting him so. The chance of there being one amongst hundreds was not unlikely; he should have expected this day to come. The similarities in such an unadulterated form had just thrown him off guard, he reassured himself. Yet how could he be expected to act any different when, every time the girl walked into the room, it was like seeing his mother alive again?
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
He would put some distance between them, he decided. He waited a day, the various duties of the mines and the rest of the island, allowing him to draw his attention away from his castle and it's new inhabitant. But that night's first encounter had still left considerable damage so he was bound to call for another to repair it. The blonde one, he decided. Her voice was strong and she could sing reasonably well. She would do. A few minutes in her presence, however, and already his mind would not let him enjoy the serenade. It clamoured for the new one, his soul refusing to heal if it were any but her. He sighed imperceptibly and ordered the blonde one to stop.
"Bring the new one," he commanded. A flash of some emotion he could not be bothered to decipher flashed across the girl's face and then it was gone. She bowed and left.
He waited, restless. It was unbecoming for a man of his power to be so affected by a single face- by a single memory. He could not allow himself to be so easily affected and yet the anticipation of seeing that face again had him visibly agitated. If the Queen found out how miserably he was behaving she would likely return and remove the distraction herself. The thought brought with it a much needed cold shower of reality to his senses.
He was frigidity itself when the girl entered the room. She was confused and scared; he could hear it in the timbre of her voice. She did not understand why she had been called for especially. It was true that he had never bestowed the honor on anyone prior to her. Luckily, his memory had supplied him with the perfect ruse.
"You had agreed to explain the perplexing actions of the characters in your story. Do you not recall?" he asked. She was relieved.
"Which character would you like to know about first?" she asked, smiling. He stilled as he heard the inaudible rip again. He cursed silently. They even smiled the same, he thought. Not identically of course; he noted that this girl's smile was almost perfectly symmetrical, whilst the smile he remembered was higher on the left. He used this dissimilarity to regain his composure and his face smoothed itself out. He quickly and systematically picked out differences between the girl before him and the face he remembered; this one had no deep-set lines of laughter cut into her creases of her eyes; she did not have the dimple dug into her left cheek; her eyebrows were thinner and more defined; her voice was of a higher pitch. All these discrepancies helped to ease his troubled mind. His heart slowed to its almost immeasurable beat and his soul returned to its ritual of ruin and repair. All this he accomplished in the short time it took her to adjust her position in her seat. She was not comfortable in her dress.
There was still an even bigger difference this time, he realised, as she remained silent, eyes downcast. He was not sure how to proceed.
Usually, when he sent for a girl, they would sing or dance or play one of the instruments he had brought back and he would sit, passive, while his hidden powers slowly sapped the life out of the creature before him. He had never actively partaken in the matter before. But this time was different; she was here because he had asked her to be. If he did not continue to ask questions then he would be left looking foolish- and that was a state completely unacceptable by a prince such as he. So he delved into his memory, which had improved vastly since being in the Queen's employment, and pulled out various questions with ease.
The girl, completely oblivious to his thoughts, sat and answered the questions, sometimes stumbling other times not. It intrigued him to discover that he did not actually know the answers to the questions he was asking; they were all questions of the heart and therefore he could never anticipate what her answers would be. It was a topic he was honestly ignorant about and the answers fascinated him more than he would ever openly admit. What shocked him even more was that he began participating in the conversation; he was actually sharing his opinion with the small human girl seated at his feet.
He had never shared his opinion with anyone before; no one had ever asked for it. The Queen had had no use for it, his servants did not have insight he would have appreciated and he certainly would never have dallied with his workforce. That only left his tree and it could not speak even if it had had something it would have liked to share. It was strangely refreshing. He found himself unconsciously going over the conversation several times in his mind after she left.
The girl- her name was Gwendolyn, he recalled- would be severely drained after such overexposure to him (the same girl twice in a row was unheard of), even if she did not show it. He did not want to lose this one yet so when he next called for a girl, he called for one of the others, just something to satiate him momentarily. He found himself oddly...unsatisfied with the little black-haired girl's visit. He attempted to converse (still a very foreign mode action for him) but it did not yield the same results as it had with the Gwendolyn girl; this one merely supplied him with the answers he already knew. It was strange how he could not recall the names of these other girls- he could have, easily, if he had wanted- but somehow he had never taken the trouble to.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-
He was displeased that he had been fooled into thinking this one was any different. He had called for Gwendolyn again but she had changed. He could not understand why she refused to communicate; why she told her stories without warmth or inflection. What was the point in that? It was hardly as though he was benefiting from the stories themselves.
"Enough," he said, finally pushed to the limit of his patience. "I shall send for another."
She was immediately contrite. But her way of apology took him by surprise, as did her reasons. She had 'opened up' to him, he believed the term was, instead of the usual groveling and remedy by way of song that he was used to. That in itself was unusual. However, his fascination soon faded into anger as he learned of the real reasons behind her absence of mind.
"-So for them you would be willing to forsake your duties to me? To remain in their favour you, would risk falling out of mine?" he said coldly.
He had never experienced such outright disloyalty before. Never in any one his servants nor workforce had he seen such blatant betrayal of allegiance; she seemed more concerned with the opinions of these 'friends' of hers than she did him. In the past it probably would not have been possible but his soul was not the completely emotionless landscape it had once been; he was outraged. And, like his Queen, he made no effort to hide his displeasure.
She was clearly terrified. She begged for his forgiveness; she promised to be faithful. He was distrustful of her but granted her one more chance. Any further misconduct, however, and she would be sent down to the mines indefinitely. She did not disappoint.
She regaled him with another of her 'fairy-tales' as she called them this time infusing so much of herself that the mere telling of the tale brought tears to her eyes. That alone granted her her forgiveness; clearly there was still much he could learn from this one. Though she had explained to him the emotions and feelings that formed the basis characters' actions, he could still not comprehend them. One running theme in particular gave him trouble: love. He could not remember 'love'. He could not understand how people would risk death, destruction and even their sight for such triviality. But then there was the memory of his sacrifice...
The truth remained that he himself had done something very similar, only on a much larger scale. A part of him knew that pain had been an underlying factor, and that pain had ridden on the loss of his mother. But any experience aside from physical pain had been removed from him; this 'pain' he recalled was just a statement, a reminder. It did not really mean anything to him. He reasoned he would not have enjoyed being in pain, but all pain- like physical wounds- faded after a time, did they not? Then what had made that emotional pain so unbearable that he would have turned to the Queen? Why had he... The unanswered question left him feeling conflicted and confused. He had always done things in the way that was most profitable or that made most sense; the action that led him to his current being made no sense what so ever. Perhaps that was why he had done it. Perhaps the irrationality of those feelings had pushed him to his limit...
He decided not to dwell on the matter. Love, he decided, was a sickness of the mind. It was nothing but simple insanity. That out of the way, he found himself able to enjoy their continued conversations. There was a brief period of uncertainty that he felt after Gwendolyn's initial waver of loyalty but after that she seemed wholly and completely devoted to him when in his presence. This sort of focused attention was also new to the Prince and he found he strangely enjoyed it. She seemed honestly interested in his opinions and would weigh his words carefully before coming up with a response of her own. As he'd said, she did not tell him merely what he wanted to hear (mostly because the question was not posed in such a way that he knew what he wanted to hear in the first place) and thus kept him greatly entertained.
The Prince could feel his natural curiosity becoming stronger day by day, fighting for supremacy in his blood, till eventually it cemented its place in his mind and soul. Then the questions never stopped. She grew to be less afraid of sharing her opinion, knowing that he did not mind them, even if they conflicted with his own. Instead he found it gratifying, the way she offered new points of view, new experiences for him to absorb; her own adventures; tales of her previous life, so different to the one she was being exposed to currently; the quirks of her society.
That was another thing that had been difficult to grasp. He could not understand how a body of people, completely separate from oneself, could dictate another's actions and thoughts. Was it magic? he'd asked. To which Lynn (even he had taken to thinking of her by her preferred diminutive since she so rarely addressed herself otherwise) had laughed and responded in the negative. It was their perceptions, she'd said, they were important so their views mattered. He could accept this to a point, comparing it to how the Queen's views probably influenced his own. The idea was distasteful- at least, the way Lynn described it.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
He was being greedy. He knew it and yet he could not stop himself. He had thought of calling for another, to give Lynn (the name still felt strange in his mind) a chance to recover, but he knew none of the others' presence would be half as enjoyable. It had been almost three months. He was being selfish. He was being irrational; if he over-used her she would die before she had time to recover. But he couldn't help himself. Every time he returned from one of his longer journeys it was only her presence he desired. Only she would be able to relieve his weariness.
He could see it, even if she was not consciously aware of the effect he had on her strength, and by the end of their meetings she would often be close to exhaustion. As the meetings went on, the niggling sensation of guilt due to her deteriorating strength, grew. He could have supplemented her life force with some of his own but it would be temporary, only sustaining her till their next meeting wherein he would involuntarily take it back. It also ran the risk of the Queen sensing the abnormality of his fluctuating life force and returning, which was a perilous position to be in. He had not been able to sense the Queen for sometime and could not recall the last time she had checked up on him. But he had no doubt that if she returned to find him in the way he was currently that she would be furious; he would be lucky to survive her wrath at all.
His soul had healed far more than even he had anticipated. Far more than the fleeting glimpses of its reparation the Queen had observed herself, and she would not be happy with him for allowing it at all. He knew he had no chance against her if it came down to that but he found he was willing to take the chance. Now that he had seen the possibilities he was unwilling to return to the dreary, unfeeling days he used to suffer. Maybe if the Queen re-shredded his soul he would be more open to the proposition, but until then he was determined to hold onto what he had.
But he had become distracted again (that was another thing he'd noticed was happening more often), the question was, what to do about Lynn? He knew, somewhere in his subconscious, that he could just go out and retrieve another girl to replace her but he didn't want to have to start all over again. He knew Lynn, knew what her gestures and facial expressions meant; what she was trying to say even if she did not say it (something he would never before have been able to do before). And to an extent, he felt, she knew the same of him. All this knowledge had been built up over time and he knew that if he brought a new one in, he would have to restart the process all over again. She might not even be suited. She may have an intolerable voice. He might find her annoying, even. The rip in his soul may re-open in the time he took to readjust, demolishing all the progress he had made.
Besides, Lynn was his.
He put aside this train of thought and focused on what he should do. He knew what he could do but was dancing around the prospect because he was not sure of the effects it would have; it could either end very well or end instantly. He was not the type to pace but if he were he would have worn a groove in the floor by the time he was finished thinking. There were too many uncertainties-
But as he watched Lynn almost collapse during their last visit, his mind was made up. He would have to take the risk.
...
Lynn hurried to the meeting room. She had been helping Barty load all of the supplies onto the ship. Tom had been mysteriously absent all day but with their chilly meeting that morning she hadn't been in too much of a hurry to bump into him again so soon. He needed his space.
"Good, now that we are all here, we can begin," said the Captain looking at her. Lynn sank breathlessly into her seat and tried not to let her embarrassment show; she didn't mean to oversleep, her nap had just felt so good. "First, Barty. How are the supplies coming along?"
"Just finished loadin' the last barrel," said Barty. "We're ready t'sail whenever. I thought it'd be bett'r to be set, rather than hafta scurry aroun' at the last minute; I can bring back supplies if we need 'em."
"Good, good," said Marcus. "Radmer? Starky?"
"S'plosives just need to be fused. Shouldn't take more'n a day."
"Hmm," said the Captain, stroking his chin. He seemed distracted for some reason. "Alright. Well, we don't have much time left so lets get them done as soon as possible."
"Aye aye, Cap'n."
Lynn sat and watched the proceedings in silence. She had played most of her role so far so she really only sat in on these meetings so she knew what was going on.
"Beggin' yer pardon, Cap'n," began one of the men earnestly. "but are we gonna hear this new plan o' yers? Ah know you gots one; I can see it on yer face." It would have been rude if anyone else had said it but Farrow was known for his open honesty and slight naivety.
The Captain smiled. "Indeed I do, Farrow." He stood up and spread his hands on the table infront of him, leaning down conspiratorially. "What would you say if I told you gents I had found the solution to our little problem?" The men leaned in a little closer; everyone knew the current situation of the mines, there was no need for elaboration. "What would you say if I told you we could move by tomorrow night?"
"-assuming the Demon leaves," reminded Rob.
The men ignored him. "What is it, Cap'n?" "Have you found another entrance!" "Where is it!" they clamoured.
"No, lads," smiled Marcus. "Even better." The men's faces were a mixture of confusion and incomprehension. The captain reached behind him. "Say hello... to our secret weapon."
"Tom?" said Lynn incredulously. The room turned to face her. "But how can Tom be our secret weapon?" She had not noticed him at all, sitting in the Captain's shadow. His face was still in the dark so she could not read the expression there.
"Tom was the one who came up with it," said Marcus proudly, pulling the boy's chair forwards to sit at his left side. He spoke to the room at large. "As you all know, the only thing standing in our way was how to keep all the boys safe; we can't go in and blast the mine to pieces but can't not either. But what if we could somehow get all the boys away from the blast site in time? What if there was a way to make sure they'd be evacuated into the secondary sleeping chamber before the timer went off?" He was smiling widely now but some of them men still looked confused. "Tom could be that 'way'," he explained. "We could send him in, fully aware of the plan and marshall the boys to safety. The demon would never know and we could carry it out right under his nose! We could be off the island by the end of the week!" The men jumped to their feet, cheering loudly. The few who were near enough clapped Tom soundly on the back, praising him for coming up with such an ingenious solution and being a man.
"But wouldn't that mean that Tom would have to go back in the mines?" asked Lynn amidst the cheers, her forehead furrowing in confusion. She wasn't trying to be dumb but-
"Of course," said Marcus, leaning back and smiling. "It's a good plan; Tom's the only one who's young enough to still have a shot at getting into the mines- we could hardly send you. And since he suggested the plan he has no problems with it. Do you, Tom?" he asked, turning to the quiet youth beside him who shook his head.
"'Course not. The faster we get 'em lads outta there, the better."
"Hear, hear!" cried the men, even more jubilant.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
There was an impromptu party in celebration of Tom, the plan and plain good fortune. Everyone was merry; the men danced and clapped, Cecco broke out his fiddle and Barty even sang one or two tunes. Marcus was looking happier and less stressed than she'd ever seen him. The only one who did not seem to be celebrating, however, was her.
"Cheer up, Princess," said Rob, sitting down next to her. "The lad will be fine. Marcus wouldn't put him in any delib'rate danger. " Of course Rob would be able to pick up on her anxiety.
"I can't help it, Rob," she said, staring into the fire. "I know Marcus wouldn't knowingly put him in harm's way but what if something goes wrong? What if-" she stopped, reluctant to even voice her fears aloud.
"He'll be fine," he repeated. "He needs to do this." Lynn looked up, startled, but Rob only stood up and went to join Marcus across the room. She bit her lip and looked down at her lap. She needed to speak to Tom.
-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-
"Come on in, Lynn."
"How did you know it was me?" she asked timidly, pushing the curtains away to enter.
Tom sat up and shrugged. "The men never knock."
She took a tentative seat at the foot of his bed. "Why did you leave early? The party was meant for you," she said with a small smile.
"Couldn' handle anymore of Barty's yowling," he said jokingly. They laughed. When the silence between them finally became unbearable she decided to come straight out with it. She took a deep breath.
"I don't want you to go into the mines."
"So I noticed."
She looked up at his hard tone. "Don't be like that Tom, I'm just worried about you. I've heard the things that happen down there, what if-"
"Yeah, an' I've bin' there," he said shortly. "I know what I'm getting myself into."
"No you don't!" She said fiercely, annoyed by his attitude. "I didn't want to tell you this, but I heard Radmer during his little discussions; they don't know for sure which walls will fall. The structure is so old and he hasn't had the chance to analyse it properly of course so there's no way he knows exactly what will happen when those sticks of dynamite go off. There's no way anybody knows what will happen! They're all just making educated guesses!" Her voice grew more and more agitated.
"Don't you think I know tha'?" he said, eyes narrowed. "The Cap'n told me everything. An' that includes Radmer's 'little discussions'. I know what I'm in for, Lynn an' there's no way you can persuade me otherwise."
She stared at him with a new kind of wonder. "Y-you knew?" He nodded. "And you're still going?"
He looked at her, surprised. "Of course I am. Even if I get crushed, it'd still save a whole lot more lives than if I stayed."
She threw her hands up in frustration and stood up. "What is it with you men and self sacrifice? It doesn't have to be like this! Why are you all so ready to lose your lives when we still have time to figure something else out!"
"We have no more time," he said cuttingly, standing up as well. There was a decisiveness in his voice she had never heard before."You know that it's only a matter of days before the demon makes his move an' if we don't move before then, all our plannin' would have bin for nought."
"A few days is enough to come up with something better," she said through gritted teeth.
"Not it's not." He said. "And you know it. It's been almost a month an' not even Rob could come up with somethin' decent. This is the best chance we've got."
"Why are you so insistent on dying?" she hissed, her hands fisted.
He stared at her then turned away. "You have no idea what it's like," he said, so quietly she almost missed it. "Believe me, even being crushed by a coupla rocks would be better than what those lads are sufferin'."
Her face blanched as she gasped. "Tom!"
"I'm not going there to die," he sighed, turning around to face her. "It's a rescue mission, remember? Can't rescue no one if I'm dead." She didn't find his joke funny and neither did he. They stared each other down. "I need to do this."
That made her pause. "Rob told me," she said more calmly. "Why?"
He shook his head. "I just do. Look, I'll be fine, Radmer or not-" he said, cutting off her protests. "-I know my way around those caves. I'll get every last one o' those boys out; even John and little Michael." She bit her lip. She could not deny that her brothers had been on her mind almost constantly since the planning had begun. She sighed in defeat.
"When are you going?" she asked in a small voice.
""Tomorrow." She looked up sharply; she had not expected it to be so soon. "Like I said," continued Tom, voice still strong despite his averted gaze, "that demon could move at any time. If he decides it's t'morrow night then I need at least a full day to get what needs doing, done."
She sat down heavily on the bed as the finality of his words sunk in. Tomorrow. She couldn't imagine Tom being gone by tomorrow. To be honest she hadn't imagined Tom being gone ever. True, he hadn't exactly been the centre of her attention these past few weeks, but she'd always known he was around somewhere doing chores or something- someplace safe. And now he'd be off by the end of tomorrow, doing who knows what and enduring all sorts of horrors while she just sat around and waited like a helpless damsel, not knowing if he was dead or alive. But deep down she knew that there was truth in Tom's words, that it was necessary- even if those words had come out of a suddenly much more mature Tom. Everything he had said was completely rational- except the part about dying- and she did want to see her brothers again. She looked down at her hands. She couldn't pinpoint why she was so upset.
"I'll be fine, Lynn," he said more gently, easing himself down on the bed beside her. When she remained silent he added, "I'm beginnin' to think you don't have an ounce of faith in me-"
"What time are you leaving?"
He looked at her before he spoke. "Sunrise," he said carefully.
She turned away from Tom's probing gaze. So soon...
"Well then," she said thickly, clearing her throat as she stood up. Tom stood up too. When had he grown so tall? "I guess I'll see you at sunrise," she nodded, crossing the room before he could do or say anything else. She turned briefly at the doorway. "Good night, Tom."
"...Good night," came the faint reply as she let the curtain fall. She maintained her measured pace until she was sure she was out of earshot.
Gwendolyn Darling had always been a proud girl, and her tear-stained face was not a sight she liked to share.
A/N: I think I'm a little bit in love with Tom. DIALOGUE IS SO MUCH FUN :3. Anyway, for all those who are still fans of Princey, I kept his POV in this ch. as close as possible to the original chapters in Lynn's POV. So if you read them together it should give you insight on what he was thinking while he was sitting and pouting and glaring at her XP (was an absolute nightmare to write). Don't be counting on another chapter too soon guys- my break is almost over.
Thanks to Karindii, BlueMizuki, uplifted(thanks for spotting the mistake, tis fixed ;), Moa, TheLadyPanda and DayDreamer733. You all seem way too happy with the Prince- hope this chapter added to that XD
And as for the other 50 or so who have this on alerts, what you waiting fer, eh? Press the button- you know you want to... :}