Rickard had ridden past his horse's limits, but he had arrived back in Bridge Hedge by nightfall. Leaving the stables, he strode with purpose into the palace, determined once and for all to get to the bottom of his long standing suspicions. Her chambers were all but abandoned, when he arrived, and it was little surprised. Apart from her loyal guard dog drooling after her day in and out, Eirlys liked her privacy. It was just another manifestation of her strange behavior… all part of Rickard's distrust.
Storming through the darkened halls, he arrived at her door and balling up a fist, knocked. There was a shuffling, and the door creaked open as the Queen stared at him with a small hint of distaste, "I asked not to be disturbed...."
"Indeed. This won't take long. I need to speak to you, Your Majesty, on a matter of grave importance."
A brow quirked, but without a word, Eirlys held back her door and Rickard stepped inside, "I'll be brief. I have reason to suspect that Mulgrave is not actually responsible for the kidnapping of the princess…"
Closing the door, Eirlys turned, her brow still lifted, "Is that so?"
"Indeed. The symbol in the yard that was discovered last night… I believe that it was planted."
"...I see." Her expression remained muted, as Eirlys moved from the door to the small vanity table, near the four-poster bed. Sinking down, she pulled the combs from her hair and plucked up a brush, running it through the dark strands, "And why is that?"
"When have you heard of kidnappers dressing in such identifiable clothing? A guard's uniform? And to think that Rosie managed to tear the patch off almost perfectly? No… It's all too coincidental. I've no choice but to surmise…"
"That someone within Ethelemar… Bright Hedge, even… is responsible?"
Her response was so unexpected that for a moment, Rickard stood, dumbstruck, but as she rose and turned to face him again, he gave a solemn nod, "Someone that she trusted. It's my belief that she left willingly… Perhaps that she wasn't even aware that she was being abducted. The nursemaid, Miss Warwick? She claims not to have heard a sound from Rosie's chambers… yet her own are right next door. It seems odd to think that if Rosie were, in fact, kidnapped by strangers, she would have given some indication…"
"Quite perceptive of you, Rickard." Moving forward, she clasped her hands behind her back in thought, "Have you shared this information with anyone else?"
"...Not yet." Rickard responded, "But I intend to share it with the king, once you've answered my questions."
"Your questions?" Smirking softly, Eirlys paused a few feet from the kingsguard, "Are you accusing me of kidnapping my own child, Rick?"
"I've made no accusations." He eyes shifted to her own, a frown at his lips, "But it would be beneficial if you had an alibi."
"You
are accusing me. My word. This is intriguing. You've a lot of nerve…"
"Where were you?"
"How dare you. I am your
Queen!"
"And you still haven't answered the question."
Her expression lost its icy calm, her eyes narrowing, "...You have always been a thorn in my side, Rickard."
"And I have never trusted you,
Your Majesty, so I would wager we're even."
"No one will believe you."
"Really? You don't think Cristoff will find it interesting that his wife has been concealing information from him?"
Breathing in, her jaw twitching, Eirlys took another step forward, "...This is treason. I could have you hung for this."
"So is having your own child kidnapped, to incite a war. But I guess we'll see who has the more convincing argument." He moved to the door, but as he touched the handle, Eirlys swept in, swiftly and with a growl, brought the knife-sharp point of her hair comb down on him. He barely felt the pinch as it burrowed into the back of his neck.
Rickard staggered for a moment, stumbled, clutching his nape as he dropped to his knees. Staring at him, as he dropped backwards, wide-eyes staring blankly up at the ceiling, Eirlys shook her head, "...I suppose this means I do…"
When she was sure he was dead, Eirlys moved rapidly, first locking the door, before tearing at the sleeve of her gown, the skirts. She took the comb and raked it's sharp point along her bicep, tore her own nails into Rickard's forearms. His sword was pulled free, laid at a discarded angle… Sitting before it, she stared into the mirror on her vanity, brows knit in thought, then with a stabling breath, straightened up and viciously, slammed her face into the glass… The jagged cut on her forehead bled freely, and with a smile, Eirlys rose again…
The second knock could not have been better timed and throwing herself down beside Rickard's cooling body, she cried out.
Jack, his mouth already full of bread (for after all, he was hungry and hadn't gotten to eat a bite at the inn), looked to Fi while slowly chewing. He almost looked like a cow, placid and slightly dense, as he tried to make sense of the words she was saying. Finally, it clicked.
He gulped down his bite, and he sputtered, "But we just got here. Why'd you want to leave? They're gonna fix your hands, too!"
He grabbed her wrists and raised them up, as if she wouldn't understand what appendages he might be talking about.
She might have laughed, were her concerns not so preoccupying. It was amusing, nevertheless, and shaking her head, she gave his hands a gentle pat after he had released her wrists.
It was difficult enough to convey her feelings with words, but without them, she felt a little helpless, and explaining anything to Jack, who looked at the world so differently, so innocently, it seemed impossible.
Maybe she was being paranoid - too much time on her own, too little experience in the world beyond the safety of her home. But she could have sworn up and down that the queen had looked at her with a disdain Fiora had not felt since her step mother...
Watching Jack eat, however, and the satisfaction that seemed to come over him at the sight of the meal, she couldn't justify leaving just yet. Instead, nodding, she sank back into her seat, gesturing to the food.
It came as little surprise to Fiora when Harrison returned to explain to them that the Queen had insisted they stay the night. She hadn't imagined it, then... the look that she was given. Something within her had recognized it for a reason - that place of self-preservation that she had developed out of shear necessity.
She had taken Jack's hand as they followed Harrison and she hadn't released it until the door was shut behind them, when she ran her fingers through her hair and with a sharp breath of panic, turned away from it, shaking her head.
Jack, to say the least, was astounded and confused. He stared at Fi, who seemed in a panic, and looked about the room. It was far more lavish than anything he'd ever been in -- real feather bed, real windows, with real glass, real lamps and real wooden tables with real gold. It was all a little much for him, honestly, but he thought it was nice of the queen to let them have a place to stay.
Fi, however, seemed to think differently. And Jack had thus far figured out that she seemed to have pretty good sense. After all -- he was an idiot.
It helped that Goose seemed in the same boat, pecking at his knees and running back towards Fi.
"Should we tell 'em we wanna leave, then?" Jack asked. "I mean, they gave us the room, right? We can just waltz out."
At his words, Fi frowned and moving to the door, she tried the handle. It turned, but as she pulled it open she was met with the stern-faced scowl of a castle guard. Closing the door again, she turned to Jack and with her eyes filled with tears, she shook her head and clapped her wrists together - the best way she could think to indicate shackles.
There was no doubt now. They were in a nice, lavish cell... but they were prisoners.
Jack frowned heavily. While he knew he wasn't the brightest candle in the bin, he knew what the dark look the castle guard gave Fi meant, as well as her tearful gesture to her wrists. The boy didn't much appreciate being locked up, either.
But what were they going to do? The guard wasn't about to let them out. He walked over to the window and looked out, noticing that there was quite the drop. Well... no way they were going to get out that way, either. Not unless they started to tie together bedsheets, but there was no way there were enough bedsheets to get to the ground.
Well, what a pickle. They were stuck, unless they could think of some way out of this place.
"You think if we ask nicely, they'll let us out?" Jack asked.
Brushing at her eyes with the back of her hands, Fi shook her head again. She didn't understand... could not for the life of her comprehend what she had done - what either of them could have done to warrant this treatment. She had thought, momentarily, that she had seen recognition in the eyes of the queen, but they had never met... not to Fiora's knowledge...
Sinking down on the bench at the foot of the bed, Fiora buried her face in her hands, her shoulders slumped. She was quiet for a moment, but when she looked up, she met Jack's gaze with one glossy with emotion, her lips mouthing an apology. She had gotten him into this mess...
Just like her brothers...
Jack was floored by the sudden apology from Fi, shaking his head as he came closer to her.
"No... No, no, no, it's okay! Look, everything's okay! It's not you. I probably did something. I... I always do something..." Jack chuckled a little, coming over and kneeling in front of her. He took her hands gingerly between his and assured her, "Nothin's gonna happen! Right? We'll be fine. I'll just talk to the queen when she comes back and tell her we wanna leave."
Looking up at Jack as her crouched before her, Fiora laughed... It was a rare sound, involuntary, no louder than a gasp, but sparked by genuine amusement. He really was like no one she has ever met.
Leaning forward, she pressed a delicate kiss to his cheek, the straightened again, nodding as she mouthed a 'thank you'.
Jack stared with unabashed surprised, stunned by the sudden peck. He smiled dumbly with a bit of a chuckle, rubbing his cheek before standing up straight.
Well! Now he really HAD to get them out of here!
The boy looked about the room, trying to think. It was difficult because... well, frankly, he wasn't used to it. Nevertheless, he tried to think of a reason -- any reason -- to send the guard at the door away. How many of them were there? Two?
"What would make the guards go away?" asked Jack out loud.
For all his goodness, his unique spirit of kindness and curiousity, one thing Jack did not strike her as was one to take charge, yet he surprised her... As he leapt into action, trying to devise a plan.
Strangely, she felt better and she considered his question for a moment before her eyes moved to Goose, a brow quirked as she pointed to the bird.
Jack snapped his fingers with excitement. Yes! Goose could help them!
Said fowl had managed to knock a book on the floor and was currently reading through the first page, and Jack walked over to bend down and come to eye level with the bird.
"Goose.... I need your help."
The bird looked up and ruffled its wings.
"I need you to distract the guard outside. If you don't, Fi and I can't get out of here. You understand?"
Goose looked at him with a single beady eye, no sign that he had actually heard a thing. Jack smiled and said, "Good Goose!"
Quietly, Jack walked over to the door and stage whispered to the bird, "Fly in his face... or something like that. Make a lot of noise!"
He opened the door and Goose waddled out casually. Suddenly, there was a loud noise as the guard began to curse, the clank of the man running away as a gander stole something rather important -- his cod piece.
Jack poked his head out and saw that the guard was quite a ways down the way, and he waved Fi over.
It wasn't the most legendary of rescues… certainly not one that would be written about in song, or lauded in stories… but as far as Fiora was concerned, Jack was as good a hero as any knight in shining armor. She rose to follow him out into the hallway and took his hand, nodding down the hall in the direction they had come.
@BearEnthusiast (Harrison), @Doctor Jax
