Fairest {Part Five
Allen had known Richard was dying as soon as he had seen him; it was only now that he was having it confirmed.
Touching his brother’s leg with careful, shaking fingers, he frowned when the warmth filled his palm but refused to go through to Richard’s skin; as if his brother were repelling their father’s gift. After trying three times, Allen swore to himself, a habit he had picked up from his escorts of the forest, and turned to Richard with an unhappy frown.
“I c-cannot.”
“I didn’t think you could,” Richard said, sighing and closing his eyes. “Father could never heal mother, either - it must have something to do with our respective gifts. Perhaps prophecy repels healing.” Richard sighed again, shaking his head and shifting in his position. He waved away Allen’s hands when the elder brother went to try and heal him again, frowning in aggravation. “Don’t bother, brother, it’s useless. I’ll be dead by the morning - I’ve already seen it.”
“H-have you seen anything e-e-else?”
“…Yes,” Richard murmured, opening his eyes and looking up at Allen with a distant gaze. “But I shan’t tell you.”
Allen scowled, knowing that Richard was just being impudent and rude, as he was so often as a child, before shaking his head and stepping away from his bedside, walking towards his window. “W-what should I do?”
“Get the throne back.”
“B-but how?”
“Well I can’t tell you that, brother, I’d ruin the surprise.” Richard smirked, closing his eyes and settling against his pillows. “Get the throne back. Return father’s kingdom. Get rid of the dwarf queen. I don’t care how you do it, just do it.”
“W-with what army?”
“The army you came here for, of course.” Richard scoffed, turning his head away from Allen and sighing as if preparing to go to sleep. “Now leave me be, I’m tired of your stutter - it’s quite aggravating, you should work on getting rid of it.” He pretended to sleep, then, leaving Allen with no choice but to leave his brother and return to the others.
When he went back down the stairs, Zebediah was nowhere within the house; instead he found Dustin with Gerry, the two of them in deep conversation. The prince stood just a few feet away from them for only a few moments before he cleared his throat awkwardly. The two turned to him, looking at him with expectant expressions.
“M-my brother tells me t-t-there is an army.”
“Aye,” Dustin spoke up, leaning heavily against his cane. “Gerry leads it. ‘Ow is your brot’er?”
“…He is to die in the morning,” Allen said flatly, staring at Dustin with an expression that spoke of both frustration and an early sense of loss, “he says he has already s-seen it.”
Dustin’s expression shuttered closed, but not before Allen caught a hint of sadness in his eyes. The smaller man nodded, limping passed Allen after a moment and heading up the stairs, his cane thumping with every step up. Once the sound of a door closing was heard, Allen turned to Gerry, who was staring at him expectantly.
“Let me show you your army, your highness.”
“…P-please.”
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“She’s locked herself into her room, your majesty, and she refuses to leave it even for supper.”
Anne scowled, waving away Jakob with an impatient hand and slouching in her seat angrily. Adiel had locked herself away, keeping away from the queen and everyone within the castle. Maids told of how the young girl would cry in her room, while Jakob, who she sent every day to fetch the girl, would tell her the same thing every time he came back down with no Adiel.
It was beginning to get frustrating.
Not only that, but the month was almost up, and Zebediah had yet to come back with Prince Allen.
“Benjamin!” Anne screamed, listening for a moment before turning to see her advisor standing behind her, looking as regal and put together as always. “Cancel all of my plans for the day - I’m going to my mirror. I need to see if the Huntsman has killed Allen by mistake.”
Benjamin nodded, bowing as she stood up with a flourish and left in a hurry, heading towards her private wing and into her mirror room.
Standing before the mirror, looking at the flawless glass, she took in a deep breath and slowly released it, speaking softly.
“Mirror, mirror, on the wall, who’s the fairest one of all?”
The mirror glowed, and the figure appeared, speaking soon after she had:
“Of women you are most radiant,
This is known to be most true;
However, the fairest is a different tale,
And lady, it is not you.
“The fairest one of all the land
With hair as black as night,
Eyes the colour of cloudy seas
And skin so ivory bright;
“The fairest one of all, you see,
Is one you know quite well, ma’am.
With shaking voice and quiv’ring hand,
The fairest is Prince Allen.”
Anne frowned, clenching her hands tightly together, eyes narrowing hatefully.
“Then where is Prince Allen?”
“I know not.”
“Why not?”
“I know not.”
“Augh!” Annie shrieked, reaching forward and pushing her mirror roughly to the ground. It shattered, all the glass, silver, ivory and gems splintering and the magic vaporizing with a magical hiss.
Anne stood before the wreckage, glass embedded into her arms and face, and glared down at the mess with hateful eyes.
“I will kill Prince Allen if he comes back here - I swear I will!”
______________________________________________________________________________________________
They were three days away from the castle walls.
Richard had died the day after he had said he would, and Dustin had stayed behind to bury him and take care of his affairs. He had left Allen in charge of everything, as that was his blood right and his duty to his brother. Gerry had introduced Allen to the army: all men who had been wronged by the queen in one way or another, or men who were simply loyal to the Townsend Royal line, and did not appreciate a strange woman taking the control from the rightful heir.
Allen didn’t know what to do with the army or with himself, however, and so had kept to himself during the trip back. Re-entering the forest almost felt like coming home, and when he came across all of those who had escorted him through the wild wood, he almost felt like crying, he was so relieved to see so many familiar, if not friendly, faces.
He stayed separate from his party, keeping with Aiden and Tegan, or Jadis and Benji, talking to them in soft voices and asking for advice and words of wisdom. Gerry had found Gawain, the two intimately familiar with one another - so familiar it was almost embarrassing to look towards them and see them speaking in such quiet, personal tones, heads bowed together and eyes locked solely on the other.
And then there was Zebediah, who kept himself separate from everyone else, only speaking when someone came up to him and purposely spoke to him. It made him wonder what kind of man the Huntsman was; was he a solitary man, who only cared about his family? Had he always been like that? Had he had a family once?
The prince left Aiden and Tegan, heading towards the Huntsman who was busy sharpening his hunting knife. He passed Eli and Peyton as he went, the two of them looking at him with contemplative eyes that he chose to ignore; he stopped in front of Zebediah, waiting to be acknowledged.
“How can I help you, prince?”
“I w-wish to speak to y-y-you for a moment, p-please.”
Glancing up at him, hazel-green eyes staring at him thoughtfully, the other man nodded and stuck his hunting knife into his belt, standing up and picking up his bow as he went. He then followed Allen away from the gathering towards the shadows of the woods, slipping into them soundlessly and helping Allen walk through the trees without tripping over roots.
They settled a little ways away, Allen sitting on an upturned root and Zebediah leaning against the tree it was connected to, standing beside the prince and looking up at the tops of the trees; very little light shone through, telling them that it was growing closer to nightfall. They would have to build campfires soon.
“What did you want to say to me, prince?”
“W-what will you d-d-do, once this is a-all over?”
Zebediah fell silent, and Allen turned towards him, expression curious and eyes sad. Zebediah was staring off into the tree, faraway and thoughtful, before he turned to look back at Allen.
“Get Adiel and get the hell out.”
“I-is this kingdom s-s-so terrible?” Allen asked with a weak smile, wrapping his arms around his knees and watching Zebediah carefully. The Huntsman shrugged, tightening his grip on his bow before loosening it slowly, tensing and relaxing, tensing and relaxing.
“What would I have to stay for?”
The silence that fell between them was tense at best, stifling at worst. Allen stared at Zebediah while Zebediah stared at the wood, and neither spoke for so long that the birds, crickets, squirrels and chipmunks all chattered at once, a cacophony of noise that practically deafened the both of them.
Allen broke the silence by standing, walking up to Zebediah in three short steps and stopping just in front of him. Now that he took the time to notice, the other man wasn’t all that much taller than him, and he even seemed to be younger than him by a few years. It made him wonder what made the Huntsman seem so old and so large, as he lifted a hand to touch the line of his jaw, staring at the freckles that dotted his nose like stars dotted the night sky.
Zebediah stared back at him, waiting to see what the prince would do; not moving, barely even breathing. It was a moment of decision, and decisions were all either of them were making lately. The decision to run away; the decision to make a deal, and then break it; the decision to lead an army into his family’s land to fight for it.
In that moment, they both came to a decision, and Allen closed his eyes when Zebediah leaned forward to catch his lips with the prince’s.
It was soft at first, steadily growing more and more intense - more and more desperate as it went on. Like a sunrise, where it starts off so subtly you don’t even notice it until the light is blinding you. Zebediah tasted of the forest; of game and berries and vegetation, cool stream water and wood. Allen tasted of domestication; of medicine, wine, cotton and good food, fireplaces and something no forest could ever contain. Allen felt like if he didn’t hold onto Zebediah, he’d disappear into the wood like a frightened animal; Zebediah gripped onto Allen because he thought, for just a moment, that he would never get to see or feel or taste such things again in his life.
They separated without breath, Allen leaning his forehead against Zebediah’s neck and Zebediah breathing heavily through his nose; the prince’s hands on the Huntsman’s neck, the Huntsman’s on the prince’s arms. They only separated when they heard a twig snap, turning simultaneously towards the sound to see Gerry approaching them.
“We’re making camp,” the knight told them, not even bothering to give them a knowing glance, as they all knew Gerry had seen what had happened between them. “You’ll want your rest for the morning.”
“O-of course,” Allen stammered, stepping away from Zebediah and smoothing out his clothes. “T-thank you, Gerry.”
“Your highness,” Gerry nodded, giving Zebediah a look before turning and leaving the two of them. Allen looked back at Zebediah for only a moment before he followed after the knight, once again leaving the Huntsman alone with his thoughts.
This time, though, he kept to himself as well, submerged in thoughts of his own.
______________________________________________________________________________________________
The next morning, the sun hid behind the clouds, and that was just as well.
Prince Allen and his army left the woods in a slow march, travelling across the forest’s lands and heading towards the castle just beyond the edge. The village was empty, the streets filled with soldiers, and at her balcony stood Anne, watching the procession with a cool gaze and her advisor behind her.
Allen walked on foot, a sword strapped to his hip and no knowledge on how to use it. He was not planning on using it, either - he wanted to speak to Anne. To try and talk to her with reason. He thought she still wished to marry him, and he wanted to use that to his advantage.
Too bad she now only longed to destroy him.
Gerry was to find Adiel, as he was requested to by Gawain; Aiden was left in the forest, as was Jadis, for neither of them were fighters despite their strong personalities. Peyton was almost made to stay with them, but she had very nearly cut off Zebediah’s head with her axe for the suggestion, and so she stayed beside her brother, the two of them staying close to Allen and planning on playing protection to the prince - as if to make up for their earlier betrayal.
Gawain had gone to be with Adiel, able to use his magic to get into her room and comfort her tired heart. Tegan walked with Benji, the two beasts, ready to shift over to their animal selves the moment they needed to.
And Zebediah walked beside Allen, axe in one hand, sword in the other, bow strapped to his back and ready to hunt.
They stopped outside of the city gates, Allen stepping towards them and waiting to see who would approach them from Anne’s side. The knight, Jakob, stepped forward then, blond hair a beacon in the weak sun of the morning.
“Sir Jakob, it has b-been a while,” Allen greeted unsmilingly, hands folded in front of him and gaze as serene as he could make it. Jakob smiled thinly, glancing at Zebediah with an unpleasant twist to his lips, before nodding towards the prince. “I w-wish to speak with Q-Queen Anne.”
“With your army, sir?”
“It’s ‘your highness’, puppy,” Zebediah spoke up, swinging his axe lazily in his hand and giving Jakob a smile that was more sneer than charm, “or have you forgotten your manners with how long you’ve been under Anne’s skirts?”
“You dare speak of the queen in that manner, Huntsman?”
“Only when the queen is dwarven kin, do I,” Zebediah spat, eyes narrowing. “You have a witch on the throne, and not even the kind with good, healthy magic. No wonder the kingdom’s rotten to the core.”
“The queen will not speak to you, sir,” Jakob said sharply, turning back to Allen, “she will only have your head on a platter.”
Allen’s eyes widened and Zebediah scoffed, rolling his shoulders agitatedly. The knight glared at Zebediah once more, before turning to Allen with a cold stare.
“Your move, Allen Townsend.”
For a moment, Allen imagined he was playing a game of chess with his brother, back when they were boys. Richard had always been the more aggressive player, forcing his pieces forward and taking as many of Allen’s pieces as he could. He’d been clever, but he’d been brash, and he took and took and took, taking no consideration as to where his king was throughout the course of the game.
Allen had never lost a game before.
“Zebediah,” he said softly, stepping closer to Peyton and Eli as the Huntsman stepped forward. “Cut him down.”
______________________________________________________________________________________________
Anne watched as the battle broke out from her balcony, before turning away and returning to her throne room. Scratches covered her face and arms, but she did not care, as the red only stood out prettily against the ivory-white of her skin. Blood on milk. Blood on snow.
Skin as white as snow, lips as red as blood, hair as black as a raven’s feather. Beautiful, perfect, fair.
She would cut down the fairest and cut out his heart.
“Let no harm come to Allen,” she said to Benjamin, watching as her advisor trailed after her like a fox, careful and intelligent in his distance from her. “I want him to come to me. I want to watch him die. Do you understand, Benjamin? I want to watch him die. And then I will kill the Huntsman’s cousin, and he will be so truly alone that he will kill himself.” She smiled. “But I won’t let him. I’ll lock him back into his cell and I will keep him, and I will remind him that he could have prevented it all had he only brought me Allen when I wanted him.” She stopped by her throne, touching the engravings with delicate fingers.
“Is that understood?”
Benjamin smiled, though there was finally a nervous edge to it. “Perfectly.”
______________________________________________________________________________________________
Allen paid no attention to the carnage around him, knowing that if he did he would only feel pain and regret in his decision. Eli and Peyton surrounded him on each side, cutting down anyone who got too close to him and leading him towards the castle gates. Allen had yet to pull out his sword, and he had lost sight of Zebediah long ago - though he had no fear of his safety. He knew that Zebediah would be safe, after all.
Zebediah had lived off of rats, stale bread, sour wine, and water mixed with piss for years before he was let out of his cell. He could survive a bit of battle and bloodshed; it was practically in his instincts to do so.
Wincing as he caught sight of Peyton ramming her axe into a man’s neck, the blade caught on the bone, he turned towards the kitchen doors to the castle and slipped inside, leaving Eli and Peyton to the battle behind him. The castle itself was empty, no cooks or servants or maids to be found. He was sure even the medical wing was empty, though he wouldn’t bother going to check and make sure.
Slowly making his way through the empty halls, he listened to the sounds of his own footsteps and his own breathing, walking up stairs and down corridors that he had once run through as a boy, and avoided as a young man so that he would not be forced to see the woman who forced him to call her ‘mother’. It had only been months when his stepmother looked at him and told him that she wished to marry him. Only months since he had run away into the wood, only coming out after the death of his brother and the realization that things had to change so that they could get better.
He came to the throne room door. And taking a deep breath, he leaned forward and opened it.
Anne sat on the throne, dressed in steel grey and black. Her face was cut up, as were her arms which were revealed through the fashion of the sleeves. Her dress was long and flowed around her like melted metal, and she stood out against it, stark and white with huge eyes and hair as red as the blood being spilt outside of the castle walls.
She stared at Allen for a moment, before lazily tilting her head at him and smiling.
“You’ve returned to me, my prince, though you have made me wait for much long than a day and a night.”
Allen frowned, stepping towards her warily.
“Are you well?”
“Y-you are the princess of d-dwarfs, are you not?”
Anne’s smile widened, her eyes narrowing slowly.
“So I am. And how did you learn that? No one but me and my dear Benjamin knows that, you know.”
“There are…m-many whispers in the w-w-woods.” Allen took another step forward, glancing around to make sure they were well and truly alone, before looking back towards Anne. “Y-you killed my f-f-father with your d-dwarven magic.”
Anne’s smile widened so much her face almost seemed to split in two.
“Ohh, you’re the first one to figure that out and say it to my face, Prince Allen. How did you find out?”
“M-my father…he had the gift of healing,” Allen said softly, curling his fingers into a fist by his side. “He n-never got sick.”
“And how do you know that? It was said King Robert had no talents outside of finding young brides.”
“I have his gift.”
Anne’s eyes widened, her smile disappearing, before she let out a brief squeal of laughter. Clapping her hand over her mouth, her shoulders shook, and she finally sat up, pulling her hand away to show that she had smeared blood over her mouth from more cuts.
“Are you going to show the royal council your gift? Will you have me dethroned? Will I be removed and kicked out and never heard from again?”
“Yes.”
“Hah!” Anne stood up, walking over to Allen at a much quicker pace than he walked towards her. He stepped back as she stepped into his space, reaching forward and pressing a hand against his chest. “I won’t allow it.”
“You cannot s-stop it.”
“Oh, but I can.” And here she smiled, stepping back again. She tuck a hand into her open sleeves, drawing out an apple and shining it on her bodice, staring at it thoughtfully. “Do you know what this is?”
“An apple,” Allen murmured, watching it carefully.
“Indeed - your father loved apples. I remember that so clearly.” She sighed, taking out a knife from somewhere and cutting off a chunk of the apple. “It’s how I poisoned him, you know. The apple slowly killed him. It took overnight, but it happened eventually.” She smiled, then, looking back at Allen. “This is a slightly different apple. It won’t kill you.”
“Oh?”
“It’ll paralyze you,” Anne said, almost conversationally, stepping towards Allen. Allen made to step back, but found he couldn’t move. He thought back to when her hand touched his chest and cursed to himself. She must have spelled him. She came right into his space, pressing her hand against his throat to feel his madly beating pulse, calmly forcing his mouth open. “Once you’re paralyzed, I’ll cut out your heart. And when I eat it, I’ll be the fairest in the land.”
“Fairest is not looks, Anne,” Allen said quietly, watching her as best as could despite the fact that he could not move, could barely breathe or speak - and it was difficult with her fingers in his mouth. “It’s your soul. And you have the blackest soul I’ve ever seen.”
Anne stared at him for a long time, before she sneered up at him, her face twisting to what Allen imagined her soul would look like, shoving the apple piece into his mouth and forcing him to swallow. He could feel the effects of the poisoned fruit almost immediately, his entire body locking against his will. Annie allowed him to drop back, not even wincing when his head cracked against the ground, before kneeling beside him and taking up her knife again, moving to slit open tunic and undershirt.
“You just had to go and say that, Allen,” she said softly, shaking her head and sighing. “You just had to go and say that.”
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Zebediah moved through the flailing limbs with ease, watching as enemy and ally alike fell to each other’s swords. He heard the growl of a wolf, and the roar of a beast, and he moved away from both, heading towards where he had last seen Allen heading.
He stopped when he saw Eli crouched over a fallen Peyton, lips pulled back in a sneer more animal than human, eyes full of wild anger and pain. The boy who had survived a cannibalistic witch then looked up at the Huntsman, the two staring at one another for a long time, before Eli jerked his head towards the castle’s kitchen entrance. With a nod, the Huntsman darted through the fighting, disappearing into the door and running through the empty corridors.
He looked through every doorway, not knowing where the prince had gone and not knowing the inside of the castle, despite having spent so long under its foundations.
Finally, he came across a tall man with a pale face and faraway eyes, his hands gripping onto a pipe so tightly he very nearly broke it.
“You’re the Piper,” Zebediah said after a moment, looking the legend up and down. “You disappeared years ago.”
“I came into the service of a dwarven princess, and I have never left,” he smiled thinly, the expression fox-like but strained, as if he had woken from a long sleep and was only now realizing the mistake he had made so long ago. “I regret that, now.”
“Point me to where I gotta go, and you can retire,” Zebediah said, grip tightening and loosening on the handle of the axe. The Piper stared at him for a long time, before stepping to the side and indicating the door behind him.
“This will lead to the throne room. The queen kills your prince as we speak. Move quickly if you wish to see him live long enough to sit on the throne.”
Zebediah left the Piper without another word, pushing through the door and walking down the back corridors that only had one hallway, leading towards the back of the throne room. He opened the door to the throne room as carefully as he could, peeking inside to see what was happening.
Allen was on the floor, with the queen kneeled beside him, a knife in her pale hands and her face covered in blood - her own, presumably, as there were no bleeding cuts on Allen just yet. She was saying something, probably something important as to why she was doing what she was, but Zebediah found in that moment that he really didn’t care for the why.
He approached on soundless feet, taking his axe and resting the blade against Anne’s neck as soon as he was close enough. The queen froze her hands still above Allen’s chest. He was still breathing, but he seemed paralyzed. Magic, then.
“I hear if you cut the head off of a witch, her body bursts into flames,” Zebediah said conversationally, looking at Allen’s face as he spoke. The prince stared back at him, conscious but nothing else and the Huntsman took what he could get. “But,” Zebediah continued in the same tone, taking out his knife and pressing it against her chest, arm wrapped around her in a mockery of affection, blade tip pressed to where her heart would be, “I hear if you stab her through the heart, all magic she has ever casted will disappear.”
“And where have you heard any of that?”
“A boy and his sister told me, when they cut off the head of an old witch woman who almost ate them, and she burst into flame in her own oven,” Zebediah said softly, pressing the edge of the axe closer to her neck. “As for the heart, a prince and his sleeping love told me that, when the prince stabbed the witch through the heart, and his love woke up from a slumber as deep as death. I’m just deciding which one I like better.” He smiled amiably, as if discussing the choice between eating a pear and an apple. “Do you have a preference?”
“Your head on a platter.”
“Oh, that’s no fun,” Zebediah grinned, pressing the tip of his hunting knife closer to her chest. “I think I’ve made my decision, though. You’ve broken enough people; let’s fix that.”
And with that, Zebediah pushed his knife into Anne’s chest, her blood immediately gushing out to cover his scarred hands. She screamed, and he watched as light flooded out of her along with blood, pulsing out to cover the castle and the castle grounds. All around he heard people shout in surprise and awe, a wolf’s howl cut short; a beast’s snarl returned to a man’s shout. He listened and he watched as the woman who had caused the interior rot of a once bountiful kingdom, wealthy on the production of magical artefacts, withered and dried into an old maid’s corpse. He let go as soon as she started to crumble, stepping away as she disappeared into dust and blew away on leftover magic flowing through the air.
Turning back to the prince, the Huntsman kneeled beside him, reaching forward and pressing his hand to his cheek. “Fairest in the land, you gotta get up now and take the crown that’s yours.”
And Allen gasped, back arching before he bolted upright, grasping onto Zebediah and pressing his mouth to the other man’s. It was no kiss of true love, but it was something like it, and Zebediah could feel something between them that was not Robert’s gift, nor was it the whispering woods that lived in the Huntsman’s skin.
When they separated, Allen pressed his forehead to Zebediah’s neck, still clinging to him as if deciding he would not let go until he died.
“Stay,” he breathed, voice quiet and lost among their heartbeats. “Stay, if only for me.”
Zebediah barely hesitated.
“Okay.”
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Once upon a time, there was a prosperous kingdom.
This kingdom made its wealth from the production of magical artefacts; from crystal balls to tea cups that would whisper your future if you drank tea from them. The most famous of these magical artefacts were the magic mirrors.
The magic mirrors could do a number of things, depending on the magic used on them. Some of them could show you loved ones who had passed, reminding the viewer of the good memories and washing away the bad and heartbreaking; some could show you the future, showing whether or not you shall marry or have children or be wealthy someday.
There was only one mirror that showed the fairest of them all, and this belonged to the queen of the kingdom.
Yet when the queen became lost in her own greed, she destroyed the mirror, the magic spilling out into the air and lost forever.
When the queen died, the King who stepped up had the broken mirror removed from the room which the queen had kept it in, and instead made it so that no person could ever create a mirror such as that ever again - for it only led to greed and vanity, and that would lead to the destruction of all.
The King ruled with a fair hand and a gentle heart, listening to his advisors and speaking with the people as if what they had to say was truly important. He allowed all to hunt in the forest, and the forests became part of the kingdom, where the magical and the misfits lived in peace, away from the noise and trouble of the castle walls.
Once every year, the King would leave his castle and travel into the forest, taking only a Huntsman as his companion. The two would hunt game in the wood and live off of berries and roots and whatever else they could find, and they would meet with all those who lived in cabins and huts among the trees, learning their stories and remembering them for the rest of their lives.
The King never married, and instead he named the Huntsman’s cousin as his successor, for the King would never find another love outside of the one he already had.
And though nothing was perfect, they all lived happily ever after.