"Sit down," he said, once they were within sight of the Lagoon. Tinker Bell huffed at him and then perched on a large rock, arms crossed, glaring.
"You're a changeling yourself," he said. "Stolen from your own home. How could you do that to someone else?"
"You say it as if it's an awful thing to do! I was quite happy with the other Fae, and with Peter, thank you very much. Your life, I suppose, would've been much better in that tiny apartment we found you in? Without your riches, without your harem, without your sister?"
"Are you honestly trying to excuse yourself for what you did because not every situation turned out as horribly as it could have?"
"You're trying to paint me as some sort of monster and I'm not!"
"Well, you're certainly not a heroine. Sit. Down," he repeated, when she started to get up and walk away. This time he sat down across from her. Looking at her face, he saw fury and embarrassment, and he thought of mud coating his own face, of a threat to cut off aid to the Third Village that hadn't been idle in the moment he'd made it.
If he couldn't make her understand through a straightforward explanation, perhaps he could take a page from the White-- from his father's book.
"I want you to pretend something. Close your eyes."
"If you try to throw me into the Lagoon. . ."
"I'm going to do no such thing."
She gave him a skeptical look, rolled her eyes, and then closed them.
"What if the Fae had never come for you? Pretend that you were born here, a simple family, just you and your father. You have no real inkling of what's in the woods; just know that they're dangerous and you're always to stay out. So you don't run around and explore, you stay close to home where it's safe. But because you're a child and you have to play somehow, your father saves coins whenever he can to buy you dolls to play with. And you take fantastic care of them; they're more than toys to you. They're friends, an extension of your family, and you treat them as such.
"And one day one of the forest-dwellers sees you. And she steals you away to be a mother to an actual person, not just dolls. Someone who talks back and isn't always the kindest to you, someone who's a stranger. You don't have your father, you don't have the other familiar faces from your Village, you don't even have your dolls.
"The one thing both the person who took you and the person you're supposed to care for both say is that you have to stay away from the Lagoon. That there are dangerous things in there. But you go there at night sometimes, because being alone is the closest thing you have to your old life, and you can at least pretend your father's nearby. And then the 'dangerous things' in the Lagoon start talking to you. They tell you that the people you're currently with are the wicked ones-- and they're keeping you away from your home, so why wouldn't you believe that?-- and that if you just come to them, they'll see that you're returned to your family. So you step into the water."
Tinker Bell opened her eyes, stared past him, across the still Lagoon.
She remembered Lucinda crying. She'd thought the little girl was just being stubborn; how could she not love living out here with Peter and the Lost Boys? She'd asked to go home, of all places, where she had to do chores and sleep in a dirty house.
Tink had thought she was doing her such a favor.
"I am a monster, aren't I?" she whispered.
Though his first impulse was to automatically reassure, say 'no, of course not'; he wasn't that good of a liar. "You were," he said. "That doesn't mean you always have to be."
"Apologizing doesn't mean a thing. I can't bring back those who are gone. What else is left?"
"I . . . I don't know," he said quietly. He'd wanted to make her realize what she'd done, make her understand that saying 'sorry' and skipping off didn't make up for her actions, but he hadn't truly thought through what he would tell her if she actually listened.
"Maybe the mermaids didn't murder her," she said, her gaze still on the water. "Maybe she just swam out looking for them, and then couldn't get back to shore. She always wore these long dresses with ridiculously heavy skirts; I kept telling her she would be much more comfortable in clothes like the Lost Boys wore--" Her voice cracked then, and an instant later her face crumpled.
The Prince's gaze instinctively darted around, praying that he would see someone, anyone else he could beg for help. Little Red had most certainly never cried; if anyone in the harem had they hadn't done so in front of him; the idea of his mother crying was laughable and yes, Snow had cried sometimes, but that had been when she was a child and was tired and cranky, it hadn't been anything like this.
Gingerly, half-expecting her to shove him back and tell him to go away, he put his hands on her shoulders and tugged her closer. She leaned forward, resting her forehead on his chest as she continued to sob, but that was all the contact she allowed; her arms stayed tightly wrapped around her midsection.
"It'll be all right," he said, because however awful he was at lying, he couldn't prevent that particular attempt.
“And now what?” Tinker Bell asked, looking at the Lagoon waters skeptically.
The Prince straightened his shoulders, hoping that he at least looked like he had some idea of what he was doing. He cleared his throat. “Mermaids!” he called. “I . . . I would speak with you!”
The water remained perfectly still.
“Hello?” he called. When they didn't respond, he picked up a few pebbles and tossed them in.
Nothing.
“This is pointless,” Tinker Bell said. “They only speak to people when they wish to; you can't summon them. And even if you could, you wouldn't be able to get a plain answer out of them.”
“I told him that I would.”
“Then you inadvertently lied.”
“Mermaids!” he called again.
Tinker Bell rolled her eyes and started to walk away, and then she let out a squawk of protest as he reached out a hand and slapped the water with his palm. “Are you--”
She didn't have time to finish the sentence, and he didn't have time to fully move back, before a hand jolted up out of the water and grabbed his wrist.
A mermaid with shoulder-length blond hair surfaced, smiling. “Careful,” she purred. “I might decide Royal blood would be a desirable addition to my Lagoon.”
“You wouldn't get it from me,” he muttered.
At those words, she looked vaguely interested. He didn't try to pull away from her-- he could feel in her grip that she was much stronger than he could ever dream of being, and if he tried to escape she would only drag him under.
“So why have you disturbed me?” she asked.
“Lucinda,” he said. “A little girl. Her father wants to know--”
“Her father is quite late in his curiosity. We haven't had a child in our waters for years.”
“What happened to her?”
“Is he certain he wants that knowledge?” she asked, using her other hand to trace damp lines up and down his forearm. “He has lived for years now with whatever comforting stories he's told himself. Do you truly wish to burden him with the truth?”
“What happened?” Tinker Bell asked.
The mermaid looked up at her, teeth flashing in a smile. “She was fascinated by us. Didn't think anything so beautiful could truly mean her harm. She was upset, came out to us for comfort. And I dragged her down.”
The Prince did move then, twisting out of her grip enough to take hold of her wrist. She met his eyes, amused. “Down to the Door at the bottom of the Lagoon,” she finished quietly. “Even we are not without our small mercies.”
“Where is she now?”
“That I do not know.”
“Why didn't you tell her to go home?”
“So thieves could steal her away again? Or punish her for running away?” she asked, looking to Tinker Bell. “Once you draw the attention of Pan, disappearing is the best option.”
“He-- he's not that. . .” Tink stammered.
“How many Lost Boys has he buried, Tinker
Bell? How many have you yourself seen perish?”
“Mortals die,” she whispered.
“And you think me a heartless liar.”
When the Prince returned to Lucinda's father, this time the man recognized him. The knowledge was there in his eyes, though he didn't bow.
“What do you want?” he snapped.
“Your daughter lives.”
He slammed the door in his face. Alec knocked again, and waited. He heard Tinker Bell's grumble of annoyance from off in the bushes, where he'd told her to wait.
When the door opened again, the man wouldn't meet his eyes. He simply glared at the ground. “If she were alive she would've come home.”
“She couldn't. One of the forest-dwellers sent her through a Door to protect her from Peter Pan. She wanted to bring you with her, at least come say goodbye, but it had to be done quickly. And her rescuer didn't know where to find you. But she wanted you to know that Lucinda is safe.”
“But what . . . what that thief told me. About the Lagoon--”
“Her helper rescued her from the waters. That was why she had to leave Faerietale so quickly. She was afraid that Peter or one of his companions had heard the commotion.”
The man raised his eyes again, staring at him, searching his face. Then he suddenly reached out and pulled him into a breath-stealing hug. “Thank you. She-- this year she'll turn twenty-four, you know. Thank you.”
“You lied,” Tinker Bell said, her voice accusatory. She climbed over a fallen log, scurried to catch up to him as he made his way toward where the festivities were being set up. “Blondie had no idea where she is or if she's safe; she--”
“Exactly. There's no way of knowing. He may as well have one kindness after so much time.”
***
“Attention!” Alice called. “Fiametta has recreated one of the absolute best things about my world-- Jello shots. You,” she said, pointing to Mother Miriam. “I want to see you get wasted. I have a feeling it'll be hilarious.”
She arched both eyebrows. “Young lady, the last time I lost control like that was before your grandparents were born.”
“All the more reason to make up for lost time,” Alice countered.
Mother Miriam smiled and took the tiny glass, draining it quickly. Alice cheered.
“You won't be so happy when she does get drunk and thinks it'd be funny to turn you into a grasshopper,” Beauty whispered.
Alice's eyes widened. “Um. Can she do that?”
“All that and more,” Mother Miriam promised. “Now be a good girl and hand me another.”
“A question,” Snow White asked. “How many casks of that do you have?”
Hook grinned, patting the cask of rum fondly. “Not sure. Enough for today. I think.”
“Not if Alice keeps visiting it so often,” the Prince said, nodding to where the redhead was loudly talking to a group of people.
“Okay!” she said, waving a bottle above her head. “Simplest game ever, promise. You just put this thing on the ground, and then you make it spin--” At this, she gave the bottle a hard whack on the end. “-- and then whoever the bottle points at, you kiss!”
“Excuse me,” Alec said. “I most certainly have to investigate this.”
“You're not alone,” Hook said.
Snow White laughed and walked closer to the Lagoon. Smee, who had apparently gotten started on the rum even earlier than the rest of them, was cheerfully trying to convince the mermaids to race him across the water. It didn't look like they were going to be persuaded.
Alec had been the one to come up with the idea of a celebratory party near the Lagoon. “After all,” he'd said. “That way Smee and Wolf can both be there.” And though the White Rabbit was coming to live with them, she had a feeling it would be a while before he was as at home in the palace again as he'd come to be out here.
“Snow!” Alice called, nearly falling over in her attempt to jump up and wave to her. “C'mere! Come play!”
She crossed over to Alice, smiling. “What if there's only one person here I'm interested in kissing?”
“Awww,” Alice said. “That's so sweet!” She gave her a kiss, and then pressed the bottle into her hand with a giggle. “Now spin.”
“You don't have to stay on alert, you know.”
At the words, Wendy jumped. For all that she'd been 'on alert', she hadn't even realized he'd come up behind her. “I don't know what you're. . .” She sighed. “That obvious?”
Wolf nodded. “He's not anywhere nearby. If that changes I'll let you know.”
“Thank you,” she said, feeling some of her lingering tension drain away. “We're going to have to take care of him,” she confessed. “James and I.”
“I know.”
“It just sounds so coldblooded,” she told him. “To plan something like this.”
“He's responsible for a lot of death.”
“Yes,” Wendy agreed. “And somehow it's hard to remember that when he smiles at you. I don't know if that's just his way or a part of his magic. Soon enough we'll find out.”
He raised his eyebrows. “You're going to--?”
She nodded. Taking away someone's magic was a drastic act; in many circles considered a fate harsher than death. Even the mention of it had her lowering her voice. “We didn't know of another way. A binding spell was the first thing I suggested, but no one is sure how old Peter is; if he's as old as the Forest Witch he might be strong enough to . . .” She straightened her shoulders. “We tried it once. With a weakened potion that the Fae made; something that would tamp only the strongest magic and the ability to fly. Tink realized something was wrong and drank it first.”
“So that's why she changed back.”
“Yes. It was never supposed to adversely affect her. This time we . . . we're going to make certain everything goes as planned. It's the right path. I know it. Doesn't mean it won't make me lose sleep.”
“And Ravi? She's well?”
“Yes, quite well. Thanks to you,” Cybele said, giving Wolf's hand a squeeze. Then she laughed at the sight of Smee, out in the water, trying valiantly to catch his own tail. “She and my parents are around here somewhere. And in fact, they might move to the palace soon. Assuming I stay,” she added quickly. “Nothing's truly been decided yet. Everything's been so very hectic.”
He nodded. There'd been an exodus from the forest, as both rebels and people who'd just been hiding from the Red Queen came out to begin their lives again. Now many of the ones skulking about in the trees were the ones who still wore red as symbols of their loyalty.
“Your curse,” Cybele asked. “Your mother can undo it?”
“Not as simple as all that.”
“I'm sorry.”
“Don't be. After all this time, not sure I'd know what to do with myself in an actual Village.”
Spotting Ravi in the crowd, Cybele waved. “There she is!” she said. “Go say hello! She still can't quite believe that the wolf she saw that day was actually a person.”
He smiled and made his way through the crowd, and Cybele picked up a small, smooth stone and skipped it across the Lagoon to Smee. She laughed as he caught it and skipped it right back to her. Given that his speech was more than a little wobbly and he was grinning at absolutely anything, she hadn't thought he would have the reflexes.
Glancing back at the sound of a loud cheer, she looked back to see Alice clapping loudly as Hook kissed . . . was that Tinker Bell? Games from Alice's world were very, very strange indeed.
Alice's and the Prince's world, she reminded herself, searching for him in the crowd. The fact that he was a changeling was not going to be common knowledge, and she was quite pleased that he had shared such a thing with her. Maybe they--
Then she caught sight of him, and sucked in her breath. He was standing with Catherine, and the very way he held himself had changed. He had seemed like a quite different person when they were all out in the forest with the rebels; decisive about important things instead of just wh
ich one of them he would like to bed that night, and when others spoke it truly seemed like he was listening rather than biding time until the next moment he could say something.
But this was different. They stood close together, not touching but that almost didn't matter because the way he was gazing at her seemed a touch all on its own.
She had wondered, more and more often of late, if someday he might be capable of something other than a tussle between the sheets. Now she had her answer. While she had been in the Shadow Realm, he'd well and truly fallen in love.
Cybele quickly looked away, stepped away, and in doing so got one foot ankle-deep in the Lagoon. Muttering at herself, she moved back from the water, shaking off her foot. She walked further away from the bulk of the crowd, trying to tell herself that she was being nothing but foolish.
But this would change everything, she reasoned. He might well not want a harem anymore, and where would that leave her? Shani was a Knight now, and well suited to it; her sister was the most book-smart person she knew-- apart from, perhaps, the Princess-- and she was already looking into positions as a librarian; Fiametta of course had her potions but as for her? Living in the palace, with her friends, was her life. She loved it there, loved being so close to her sister, loved the gardens, loved her quarters and her dresses and her jewelry, loved. . .
“Curse everything,” she whispered, quickly wiping a tear away. Now she was crying? This was a celebration! She'd been looking forward to this for a week and had stayed up most all of last night double-checking that the clothes and jewels she'd picked out for everyone looked perfect. Everyone was laughing and happy and that was precisely as it should be. Therefore, she was going to behave in the exact same way.
She took three deep breaths, waited until her eyes stopped stinging, put a bright smile on her face, turned around-- and almost bumped directly into Alec. Catherine was beside him.
Scheherazade had clearly decided to test her today.
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