A Thief and a Queen

The Queen in the Attic

Way back in June, I was asked on Curious Cat if my trip to Disney had inspired any Outlaw Queen fics. Well, here it is—a story inspired by the Haunted Mansion that is over a week late, but better late than never, right? Please enjoy!

Robin awoke in the dusty foyer of a mansion. An unlit fireplace sat in front of him with a portrait hanging about it. It showed a handsome young man with brown hair, dressed in a finely made dress coat and silk cravat. He looked like someone Robin would happily relieve of a bag of coins and a few jewels during one of his many raids. So why was he here?

As he watched the portrait, it began to change. Wrinkles appeared on the mans' face and his hair turned gray then completely white. The skin appeared sallow and then started to fade away, revealing the bone underneath. Soon, it was only a skeleton in fine clothes staring back at Robin.

Where the hell was he?

"Welcome, Robin of Locksley," a deep voice boomed, echoing through the room. "Or do you prefer Robin Hood?"

He looked around, trying to find the source of the voice. But the room appeared to have no doors or windows. Aside from the fireplace, there was no place for someone to hide. Robin frowned as he called out: "Who are you? Where am I? Where are you?"

"You can call me Master Gracey. I own this ghostly retreat. So I guess you could also call me your Ghost Host." He chuckled.

A chill went through Robin. "Ghost?"

"Yes...I didn't realize you were a newcomer to our realm. I would've eased you into this instead," this "Master Gracey" said, sounding contrite.

Robin frowned. "What do you mean by that?"

Master Gracey sighed. "I hate when I have to do this. Robin of Locksley, better known as Robin Hood, you are dead."

"Dead?" Robin couldn't be dead. He could still feel fear and dread. And he swore he just got colder, with color draining from his face. How could he do and feel all that without a body? And wouldn't he remember dying? He wracked his brain, trying to recall what had happened before he woke in this strange house.

He recalled being with his Merry Men, about to pull a big job that promised a great reward that would help feed the villagers through the harsh winter predicted for Sherwood Forest. He remembered dressing up as peasants with offerings to bring to the greedy duke before pulling away from the guards to let his men inside the gates. They spread out, grabbing whatever they could that would help the villagers, while Robin headed toward the Duke's vault. He recalled breaking the code and getting inside, but after that it was a blur.

"Oh, your death must be really recent. You've not yet processed it and have blocked it out of your memory," Master Gracey said. "You were caught by the duke's guards and tried to escape but the Duke took you by surprise, running you through with a sword."

Robin pressed his hand to his stomach, a cold sensation filling him as shock took over. "I can't believe I went down so easily."

"You were caught by surprise," Master Gracey said. "If you could've, I'm certain you would've put up quite the fight."

"I just...I wish I could remember." Robin held his head, a dull ache coming to it as he tried to come up with the memories.

"You will, in time. But for now, let me show you to your new room. Feel free to explore your new residence, get to know your housemates. We're a...lively...bunch." Master Gracey chuckled at his own pun but Robin was in no mood for jokes.

He was dead.

And this strange house was apparently the afterlife.

This was awful.