Chapter Text
The wind on your face is heavenly. You’ve always loved the rush of adrenaline that horse riding gave you. Every morning you’d wake up early just so you could see the rising sun from the back of your steed. That, and your farm boy, Jason. It seemed no matter how early you awoke, Jason would already be awake and working on his chores. Somedays, he’d already have your horse ready for you, expecting your early morning rides. Today, however, he was busy chopping wood, taking advantage of the weaker rays of sun in the morning. Every now and then, you’d catch glimpses of him, taking in the sweet mundaneness of him completing his morning chores.
Jason Todd has become a constant in your life. He ventured to your farm as a young boy with nowhere to turn. At first, you had hid him in the stables, naively thinking your parents would turn him away. But eventually, both of you had found the courage to ask if he could stay. Ever since, Jason has been earning his keep as a farm hand for your family.
Guiding your horse back to the stables, you pass him. “Back to work so soon?” You chuckle.
“Just trying to keep up with you, sweetheart.” He hums, eyes fixated on the stump he had been chopping wood on.
You laugh and move into the stables, dropping from your horse. You quickly remove your saddle and put it away, running your fingers over a few new scuffs on it. Quickly, you make your way back to Jason. “Farmboy?” You call, it was an ongoing joke between you.
“Yes?” He brought his eyes up to yours, a meek smile on his lips.
“Would you mind polishing my saddle if you have time? It’s got a few scuffs and I’ll be busy at the market today.” You ask, hoping he wouldn’t mind the extra work.
“As you wish.” He nods, getting back to work. It was a reply you had come to expect. He’d do anything you’d ask without complaint and get back to work, you always appreciated it. However, you can’t help but find it maddening at times. It was brief and he often left no room for further conversation as he continued his work. But they way he said it felt entirely different from any other words. It was short, yes, but it was honest. Reverent. Like he’d move heaven and earth if you wanted. But then the words would dissipate from the air and you’d be left with nothing but longing and confusion. With a quiet nod, you moved on, continuing on with your day.
You awake in the palace once more. The silken sheets are cold. The luxurious bedroom has long lost its wonder after spending many nights wishing for a different fate. Anyone else would be overjoyed to be in your place. Marrying a prince would mean comfort for the rest of your life, but to you, it is not worth it. You were perfectly happy at your little farm. You do not need the extravagant gowns, meals, and decorations that now surround your daily life. A sense of guilt kept building in you for not being able to appreciate any of it. You have not even been here a month, and you have already thought of at least a hundred ways to run away. It’s not that you have it bad per se, but you were happier before. Alexander, your betrothed, is often cold with you. Even if you tried to like him, he likely wouldn’t let you. And you miss your home. Most of all, you miss your Jason, but even returning to your farm wouldn’t bring him back.
Instead of lingering on these thoughts, you force yourself out of bed. You have it good here. If you can’t have Jason, then you’ll make do with this. Quickly, you throw on your riding clothes. The early morning rides are a routine you can never seem to shake, even when you can’t see your farmboy. Very few know about this routine now. Just your loyal handmaiden and a scrawny stableboy.
Untying the lead from the fence, you mount your horse and head for the forest. As you ride, you lose sight of the castle, freeing your mind from your upcoming arrangement. Trees bristle in the breeze, leaves crunch under your horse, warm rays of sun peak through the branches. A relieved sigh escapes your lips as the familiarity of riding welcomes you. This seems to be the only thing you have from your past life. The sacred routine is private and precious. Far from the publicity of being engaged to the prince. You could let your guard down in the privacy of the forest.
The sound of your galloping horse erases all other sounds. Until it stops. Replaced with the worried cry of your horse and the crash that follows. Your leg screams with pain as you try to free it from under your horse’s crushing weight. Three men emerge from the trees. Two of which you recognized from wanted posters. Bane and the Riddler. The former stood tall in beefy stature, making you surprised that you couldn’t see him sooner. A frightening mask hid his face. The Riddler, the shortest of the three, stands a ways away with a threatening grin. His garments are embroidered with his signature question mark. The one you don’t recognize seems to be the middle ground of the group. He is taller and stronger than the Riddler, but shorter and more scrawny than Bane. The man wears a mask that almost makes him look like an owl.
You realize that in your assessment of the situation, you had frozen. Each of the men inch towards you as you struggle under your horse. As you break free and start to run, Bane yanks you back by your collar.
“Let me go!” You gag.
“Orders are orders.” His voice comes out deep and frightening.
Seeing that you won’t be able to talk your way out of the situation, you kick at his knees and make yet another run for it. However, it is in vain as the owl-masked man jumps out in front of you and hits your head with the blunt end of his sword. As you fade into unconsciousness, you feel your body hit the forest floor and hear mutterings of your fate.
The night was still young. Rays of the setting sun painted your home a cozy pink. Your parents would not call you inside for another hour or so. However, you still thought your curfew was too early. You were thirteen, you would be fine if you were left alone in the dark. Despite your protests, the curfew would never budge. “Home before sunset” is a rule you resent. But you know better than to disobey your parents.
You merrily make your way towards the barn to visit your animals, when out of the corner of your eye, you spot something moving. At first you assume it’s a coyote here to feast on your animals, or maybe an escaped animal from your farm. Either way, it seemed like a problem. You wearily approach said problem to study it. It is covered in dirty rags and is making odd sounds. This problem is a boy. A boy your age with tear-stained cheeks and shaky hands. He looks up and almost yelps in fear. He stands up and quickly straightens himself out.
“ ‘M sorry for intruding.” He sniffles. “But I have nowhere else to go. My name is Jason Todd.” He sticks out a hand, wet from wiping his tears. You take it and shake it cautiously, mumbling your name. He continues, “I just need a place to stay for the night. I’ll be gone in the morning.”
You think it over. Your parents would kill you if you tried to bring a boy inside, but he had nowhere else to go. You glance between him and the barn. “My parents would kill you if I brought you into the house, but… do you think you’d be comfortable in the barn?”
He nods vigorously. “Yes, the barn is perfect.”
You help him over the fence and sneak him towards the garden. His head whips around, taking in all the farm animals. “You’ve got a beautiful place. Very peaceful.”
“Not so nice when you’re cleaning up cow turds.” You both grimace.
“I wouldn’t mind it if I got to live in a place like this.” Jason hums. As you enter the barn, you grab an old blanket and place it over some hay. You take a seat and gesture for him to join you.
“You’re not a farmer?” You question. The boy simply shakes his head. It was all farmland for miles. Suddenly, his exhaustion becomes more evident. His legs shake as he moves to sit beside you. His arms are skinny and his cheeks are hollow. How long has he wandered out here? When was the last time he ate? “Where are you from?”
“The Narrows.” He mumbles, his eyes fixed on his shoes.
The Narrows is a notoriously dangerous village. Even more alarming was that it would take at least two days to walk from the Narrows to your farm. He hasn’t eaten anything for two days. Immediately, you stand up to grab some food for him.
“Wait!” Jason cries. “I’m not dangerous! I swear! Please don’t tell your parents!”
Oh. He thought you were going to rat him out? Just because of where he was from? The very thought seemed ridiculous. “Don’t worry, Jason. I’m not going to tell. I’m just going to grab some food for you.” You race toward your house.
“I’m alright. Really, you’ve done more than enough-”
“You need food!” You yell before reaching your door. Hastily, you grab a loaf of bread and a few apples from the table. Shouting bad excuses, you race back to the barn before your parents can think to follow you. You pause and rush back to grab a candle for him, both for light and warmth. The barn often felt cold and unwelcoming in the evening.
You return to see him anxiously pacing. “You came back.” He seems surprised. “And you didn’t bring your parents.”
“I said I wouldn’t.” You hand him the armfulls of food and he awkwardly accepts. Quickly, you work on lighting the candle.
“I know, I just…” He takes a bite of the bread. “It’s been a while since someone has been… I dunno.”
“Nice to you?” You question, grabbing another horse blanket for him.
He huffs, rolling his deep blue eyes. “That makes me sound pathetic.” Jason takes another bite of food, looking down at his old clothes. “I guess you’re right though.”
“How’d you end up in this position anyway?”
“You don’t wanna hear that sob story.” You do. He just doesn’t want to tell it. You’re about to drop it when he speaks up again. “My dad was never really there. Went to prison when I was real little. My mom looked after me for the most part. Until um… she got into morphine. I think she had too much and she…” He trails off, eyes glistening with tears in the candlelight.
“Just recently? That’s why you’re out here?” You ask, trying not to pry too much. Jason nods quietly and you suddenly find yourself wrapping your arms around him as he attempts to hold back tears.
You stay with him until he finishes his food and falls asleep. Jason doesn’t talk much after he finishes crying. Instead, you fill the space with stories from the farm that you hope will distract him for the night. As you talk, his eyes struggle to stay open and you find yourself talking softer to guide him into sleep. He looks peaceful when he sleeps. Like a normal boy who didn’t have to deal with starvation or a dead mom.When you leave the barn, it’s dark. Not even a trace of sunlight. Your parent’s rule circles in your head.
You are definitely in trouble.
As the world comes back to focus you notice a handful of things. Firstly, you can feel your head painfully throbbing with your heartbeat. You can hear water, waves even, and the creaking of wood. Then there is the issue of your mobility. You can move your limbs, but they feel restrained by something tight and rough that irritates your skin. As your vision clears, it all comes together. You are tied to the mast of a ship with thick rope. The three men from the forest turn their attention to you as you stir.
“It appears you’re awake. Hope you didn’t get brain damage, you were out for a while.” The Riddler snickers.
You struggle against the ropes as your brain whines from the sound of his voice and the light entering your eyes. “As if you’d care if I got brain damage.” You spit. “Why are you kidnapping me anyways?”
“We do what we’re told.” The owl-masked man speaks.
“Well, what are you being told to do? If whoever is telling you to do this wants money, Alexander will gladly pay whatever amount you want.”
Bane and the Riddler laugh, their glee answering nothing. The third man speaks once more, “We’ve been told to kill you and leave your body in Metropolis.” He doesn’t sound happy about it, but he doesn’t exactly sound sad either.
“Why?” You sputter. What reason would anyone have to kill you? You are well liked in Gotham. People love you. The only reason you could think of was that it was less to do with you and more to do with your engagement with Alexander. And why put you in Metropolis? Unless… “Are you trying to start a war?”
The Riddler shoots up from his seat. “What?” He points a gloved finger at you. “You’re not supposed to know about that. Who told you?”
“Nobody. I just… assumed-”
“Well, stop it. It won’t save you whether you know about the plan or not. Now shut up or I’ll kill you before we get to Metropolis.”
Despite wanting to say something back, you bite your tongue. You’d likely die either way, but staying silent would buy you more time. Metropolis was still quite a ways away and you’d likely have until tomorrow until you’d arrive. But there was only so much you could do from the middle of the sea. You could untie your ropes with relative ease, but then what? There is nothing for miles and you’d exhaust yourself if you try to swim. For a moment you entertain the idea of pushing the men overboard, but you doubt you’d be able to. Besides, you’ve never navigated a ship before. The day passes quickly as impossible escape plans swirl in your mind. You loosen the ropes around you in case an opportunity arrives, but it never does. Before you know it, the sky is dark and the breeze is cold.
You tune out the conversation of your captors until their voices turn surprised.
“That boat is following us.” Bane alerts the others.
“The fishers would’ve headed home by now. And I was sure all the kingdom’s boats were docked or far away from here.” The owl-masked man looks through a spyglass.
“Inconcivable!” The Riddler shouts, promptly stealing the spyglass. “It has a flag! It’s not a fishing boat! And it’s not a flag of a kingdom!”
“Maybe it’s a pirate ship.” You snicker, breaking your vow of silence. You doubt they’ll kill you right now, they’re too preoccupied with the boat.
The Riddler turns to you, eerily calm. “Riddle me this, what has a neck but no head?”
“Um… a bottle?” You mumble.
“You, if you talk again!” His fist raises to strike you and you find yourself suddenly grateful that you had loosened your ropes earlier. Quickly, you duck and free yourself from the restraints, shoving him backwards and diving into the water. The cold water bites at you as you desperately swim towards the ship behind you. As you swim you hear an eerie sound approaching from the water.
“Do you know what that sound is, Highness? Those are the shrieking eels.” His twisted grin widens. “And they always grow louder when they are about to feast on human flesh!” You feel movement under your feet. Dozens of eels swim around you, their silver bodies circling you. “Come back to the ship and no harm will come to you. I doubt you’ll get such an offer from the eels.”
Despite his offer, you continue swimming. Maybe you’d reach the other boat before the eels get you. After all, why should you trust him? And even if you are to die here, in eel infested waters, you may prevent a war by not making it to Metropolis. Yes, whatever happened in these waters will be for the greater good. Just as the first pair of sharp teeth sink into your ankle and you prepare for more pain, you are yanked up by a large hand.
Unceremoniously, you are dropped back onto the boat with a thud. You gasp as you try to regain some of the air knocked out of you. Your ankle burns from the combination of the bite and saltwater.
The Riddler squats in front of you, eyeing you with disdain. “You really think you’re brave, do you?”
“Only compared to some.” You say with matching venom.
He grits his teeth and turns to the other two. “Ignore the ship, sail on.”
Your captors listen, although the owl-masked one seems almost guilty about it. The cold air and pain from the bite do not help with your attempt to sleep, but after a while, it manages to consume you. In the early morning, you are shaken awake and led towards a tall cliff. The ship from last night anchors itself behind yours, still seemingly after either you or your captors. Before you can see who is following you, you are tied to the three men as Bane begins to pull the four of you up the cliff.
The mysterious follower appears to be a man now that you can actually catch a glimpse of your follower. He is a relatively muscular man, although smaller than the behemoth dragging you. His form is mostly clad in black except for what looks like a red hood. He keeps an impressive pace as he climbs the rope left by your captors. In fact, they loudly complain about how he is in fact gaining on you. Whomever he is, he’s good.
As you reach the top, your captors cut the rope, no doubt killing the man. You expect to hear a scream, maybe some struggle, but the noise never reaches your ears. The group looks down to see that he is still hanging on. You don’t bother to listen as your captors bicker about how to deal with him. All you know is that soon, you are being whisked away, leaving the owl-masked man behind.
Red Hood is tired. He’d been awake all of the night and the night before. His return home had been hurtful. The home of the woman he loved was now the home of another family. “Engaged to the prince” they had said. Each word was a stab wound. She had told him she would wait. Liar. And the most embarrassing part was that he is still chasing her. Literally. As he was returning to his boat she heard murmurs of her name. He still cannot admit to himself that he perked up like a dog when he heard it. And then he saw her, which was admittedly worse. Her hair still shone in the sun. Her cheeks were still rosy and her lips were still just as distracting. He couldn’t tell if she was just as beautiful as the day he had left or even more so. But then he noticed the ropes around her and the fact that she was unconscious.
He would make these bastards pay. Even if she had found another, even if she wanted nothing to do with him, it was his duty to ensure her safety anyways. So he returned to his boat and followed them. Although, he had no idea it would leave him here; on a cliff, muscles aching, with no rope. Not that he wouldn’t have followed if he had known, he would do anything she’d ask if she wished it. He always has. That’s why he must keep climbing. To save her and return her to prince Alexander so that she may live the life she wishes, away from the mess that he has become.The rocks make his hands ache as he seeks a solid grip for his fingers.
As he begins to ascend again, he hears a voice from atop the cliff. “Hello there!” A man in an owl mask waves. “Slow going?” The Red Hood could practically hear the smile.
He groans, “Look, I don’t mean to be rude, but this is not as easy as it looks. I’d greatly appreciate it if you didn’t distract me.”
“Right, of course.” The annoying man steps back and he continues climbing.
For about ten seconds. Apparently the man above him has a very short attention span. “I do not suppose you could speed things up?” The owl man questions.
Hood would reach a hand to his brow if that didn’t mean falling. “If you’re in such a hurry, why don’t you lower a branch or a rope or find something useful to do?” Within moments the man tosses down a rope.
“I promise I will not kill you until you reach the top.”
“That is a horrible time to say that.” He can’t help but distrust the man, as he is no doubt going to attack him when he reaches the top.
“Well, I figured you know that I am going to kill you once you reach the top, but I wanted you to trust me with the rope.” The man shrugs.
“That does put a damper on our relationship.” Jason almost smiles.
“What if I swear on something? Like um… Gotham?”
“You do happen to be kidnapping the fiance’ of the prince, so I’m not quite sure I’d trust you on that.”
“I swear on the souls of my parents, Mary and John Grayson.” His voice loses its joking tone and becomes completely sober. Jason knows what it’s like to lose a parent and he knows that he would never joke about that. With no further hesitation, he grabs the rope and continues climbing.
He expects to spring into action the moment he reaches the top, but to his surprise, the man tells him to rest before the duel. Jason mumbles, “So… your parents, huh?”
“Yes, they were great people. Circus performers actually. But one of our acts was sabotaged by a man called Tony Zucco. That’s how I got into this line of work.”
“To avenge them?” Jason asks, grabbing his sword and preparing to duel.
“I’m not sure if I should tell you.” The owl-masked man stands, considering his options. “Eh, why not? I’ll likely kill you anyway. The Court of Owls took me in. You’d never believe it, but they run everything.” He pauses, “But, yes. To avenge them too. If I ever see Zucco again, I’ll look into his eyes and say, ‘My name is Richard Grayson, you have killed my parents, prepare to die.’”
“Believe it or not, I too know what it’s like to lose a parent.” He pauses, “But I know you’re in a rush. I won’t keep you any longer.”
Richard prepares himself. “You seem a decent fellow, I hate to kill you.”
Hood smirks. “You seem a decent fellow, I hate to die.”
Swords clang expertly as they begin their duel. They move hastily, dueling with precision. They both gain and lose the upper hand quickly. Richard performs an impressive flip off a ledge as Jason follows his lead. Their movements grow sloppier after a fair bit of time passes until Jason manages to hit Richard with the blunt end of his sword, knocking him out.
Usually he’d kill his opponent, but this one seemed alright.
It feels like you have been sitting for hours. The Riddler had blindfolded you so there was really no way to tell the time. You were tied up once more so there was no way to run. A ways back, you had left Bane in case your mysterious follower managed to defeat the owl-masked man. From the distance, you hear footsteps. But they are not the light footwork of the owl-masked man, nor the heavy stomping of Bane. These steps were motivated, heading directly for you. The Riddler quickly places a blade against your neck, you assume it’s meant to intimidate the follower and not you, but you feel your breathing quicken anyway.
“So, it is down to you and me.” The Riddler states. Did that mystery follower really manage to take down two of your captors? The grass crunches under the followers approaching steps. “If you wish her dead, by all means, keep moving forward.” You find it ridiculous how a man whose job is to kill you keeps threatening to do it sooner. You would likely die within the day, so what does it matter?
Nonetheless, you hear the man pause.
So your follower doesn’t want you dead. You are still unsure of why, but you wouldn’t mind living a little longer.
“Let me explain.” He starts, taking a step forward.
Okay, maybe he does want you dead.
The Riddler begins, “There is nothing to explain. You are trying to kidnap what I have rightly stolen.” He talks as if you are an object. Bile raises to your throat at the thought of two men, neither of whom you trust, discussing your fate.
“Perhaps an arrangement can be reached.” The followers voice comes out confident, but something seems slightly off about it. Despite the hidden hesitation, you hear him continue to draw near.
“There will be no arrangement.” A sharp blade grazes your throat, making you gasp as you feel your skin break. “You’re killing her.” Despite the blindfold covering your vision, you can easily picture the Riddler’s yellowing teeth in a twisted grin.
The sound of his approach ceases and you swear you hear his breath falter. “Then I suppose we are at an impasse.”
“I suppose so. I can’t compete with you physically and you are no match for my brains.” The Riddler snickers.
“You’re that smart?” The man asks, voice dripping with sarcasm.
“Ever heard of Plato? Aristotle? Socrates?” There is a brief pause where you can only assume the man nods. “Morons.”
“Very well, then I suggest a battle of wits.” He approaches, and to your surprise, your neck stays intact. After a moment, the dagger is lowered entirely. You hear a soft clank of the blade on the table. The sound of a pouring liquid is next, wine you presume. “Inhale this but do not touch.” The man orders. You are starting to find the sound of his voice oddly familiar.
“I don’t smell anything.” The Riddler states.
“What you do not smell is called iocane powder. It is odorless, tasteless, and dissolves instantly in liquid. And is one of the most deadly poisons known to man.” You hear soft clanking of glasses and the movement of fabric. “Now, you pick a glass to drink, and I will drink the other.”
“Why, this is simple. I know that a wise man would put the poison in his own cup, because only a great fool would reach for what he was given. But then, maybe you do not think of me as a wise man, or you assumed I would already know that you knew that a wise man wouldn’t reach for his own cup.” The Riddler rants. “I happen to know that iocane powder is found in Australia, and Australia is known for housing criminals. Criminals are often selfish, and therefore, you would want the poison as far away as possible, meaning the poison in my glass.”
“Can we just get to it?” The man sighs. “You’re stalling.”
“I’m just getting started.” The Riddler prattles on about which glass is safe and continues to bring up paradoxes. After about fifteen minutes of hearing the man’s internal monologue, and him switching the glasses, he decides on the glass in front of him.
You hear them both drink. “You guessed wrong.” The man hums.
“You only think I guessed wrong! I switched the glasses!” The Riddler laughs. “The poison is really in your glass!” Manic laughter shoots from him. It goes on for uncomfortably long until it suddenly stops. Followed shortly by the sound of his body hitting the ground.
The blindfold is pulled from your face and you are blinded by the afternoon sun. Once your vision returns, you finally get a good look at the man who had been following you. His face is partially covered by a domino mask, black locks of hair stick out from under his red hood.
Red Hood. That sounds familiar.
You've heard stories in recent years of a man with a similar description and the same name. A killer who shows no mercy. You have even heard whispers that he was the one who killed Jason while he was away.
“You.” You whisper. “You’re the Red Hood.”
“That, I am.” He smirks infuriatingly. “You a fan?”
You scoff as he carefully unties you. “As if.” You debate shutting up, but after about a day of not being able to talk, you needed to sass someone. “Why are you doing this?”
“Can’t a guy play hero every now and then?” His hands are surprisingly gentle as he helps you up.
You quickly move away. “I doubt you’re the type to play hero.” You pause, staring at the wine glasses, “And to think, all that time it was your cup that was poisoned.”
He chuckles smugly, “I put the poison in both cups. I’ve spent the past few years building up an immunity to iocane powder.” He takes your hand and runs across the hill, you are unsure if you have any choice except to follow him. You reach a few rocks and he orders you to sit and catch your breath.
“Listen,” You start. “Just bring me back to Gotham. Whatever you ask for ransom, you’ll get it, I promise you.” It sounds like you’re pleading, in fact, you probably are, but you convince yourself otherwise to save your dignity.
“And what is that worth, your promise?” He snickers, although it doesn’t seem cocky, just… hurt? Defensive?
“I am giving you a chance. It doesn’t matter where you take me, Prince Alexander will search everywhere. He’ll send all his troops. Maybe you can beat a fencer or a giant, but I know you cannot take on an entire kingdom.”
He scoffs, turning his back from you. “You think your dearest love will save you?”
“I never said he was my dearest love. But yes, he will. I am sure of it.” Despite your feigned confidence, your voice trembles. You knew you were bluffing. Prince Alexander hardly even looked at you. If the Red Hood killed Jason, then there is no doubt he could do the same to you.
“You do not love your prince?” He sounds amused- no, hopeful.
“He knows I do not love him. I’ve made it quite clear to him.” You grumble.
“Are not capable of love, you mean.” Hood spits, turning back to you.
You stand, anger filling you. He knows nothing about you. How dare he assume he does! This man knows nothing of your past, the depths of your heart, the edges of your soul. Only one man knew that, and he’s dead. The man in front of you did it, you’re sure of it. Forgetting his physical advantage, you grab his collar, shoving him roughly against a rock.
“I have loved more deeply than a killer like yourself could ever dream!” You shout. He looks surprised and stays pressed against the rock. “I have only loved one man and he’s gone!” You slam him into the rock harder. “Because of you.”
He shrugs away from your grip. “I suppose it’s possible, I do kill a lot of people.” Red Hood begins to pace, the trait reminding you of someone else. “Who was this love of yours? A snobby prince like this one? Ugly, rich, and scabby?” He sits on a rock nearby.
“No.” You bark. “A farmboy. Poor. Poor and perfect.” You sit as the man’s eyes widen in surprise. “With eyes like the sea after a storm. He was a good man. He left to find his mother in a foreign land. It was there that you attacked.”
“He must’ve gotten in my way. I’m afraid I can’t make exceptions. Once news spreads that a vigilante has gone soft, people begin to disobey you, and then it’s nothing but work, work, work all the time.”
“You mock my pain!” You march to him.
“Life is pain!” He steps closer. “Anyone who says differently is selling something.” You turn away, trying to shut out the memories of Jason that kept intruding. Hood continues, his voice softer, “I remember this farmboy of yours, I think. This would be what, five years ago?” You turn back to look at him, revealing the tears that have gathered in your eyes. “Does it bother you to hear?” You can’t tell if he’s being genuine or taunting you once more.
You mutter, “Nothing you can say will upset me.”
He kneels beside you, seemingly a little uncomfortable. “He died well, that should please you. No bribe attempts or blubbering. He simply said please. Please, I need to live.” His sober expression almost makes it seem as if he is talking about himself or someone close to him. “It was the please that caught my memory. I asked him what was so important for him. He replied, true love.” He snaps out of his empathy as he stands, his voice turning cold and arrogant. “Then he told me about a woman of surpassing beauty and faithfulness, I can only assume he meant you. You should thank me for killing him before he found out what you really are.” He finishes with a sneer.
“And what am I?” You rise to look him in the eye.
“Faithfulness, he spoke of, your undying faithfulness. Now tell me, princess, when you found out he was gone did you get engaged to your prince within the hour or did you wait a whole week out of respect for the dead?” He spits words full of venom.
“You mocked me once, never do it again! I died that day!” You seize him by his shirt. “And you can die too for all I care!” Without thinking, you release his shirt and shove him down the hill.
As he tumbles you hear a familiar shout of, “As you wish.”
Jason.