The Throne (Prince Harry fanfic #6)

Chapter Thirty-Two

Surrounded by seven people wasn't too scary to Lucy, neither was the gun. If they thought they could scare her with one gun, they were sorely mistaken. She had been shot eighteen times before; a hand gun was nothing to her. It was laughable. At the same time, Lucy wasn't scared to die. She had been preparing for it recently. In fact, she had been preparing for it since she was sixteen.

The man without a mask hovered in front of her with the gun placed at his side. His hand still held it but the safety was on. Lucy calculated how much time she had if she fought her way out. Lucy's eyes stayed on him, but she took the time to guess if there were anymore guns in the room.

"Do you know who I am?" the man asked.

"No, but you know who I am," she responded.

"You are the Duchess of Windsor."

"I'm Lucille Smith."

"At one time that meant something, now it doesn't. Now you are no more than a royal who wears posh dresses and jewels and goes to posh parties. At one time you stood something. You stood up to evil and the unprotected. Now you stand for nothing. You are part of a dying breed."

Lucy scoffed. "What's your point?" she asked. "You're part of a group of anti-monarchists."

"How did you know?"

"You smell."

The man laughed.

A psychopath, Lucy determined. "What may I call you? You must have a name that you'll lie to me about."

"You may call me Mister Fawkes."

"Remember, remember! The fifth of November,  The Gunpowder treason and plot;  I know of no reason Why the Gunpowder treason Should ever be forgot! Guy Fawkes and his companions Did the scheme contrive, To blow the King and Parliament All up alive. Threescore barrels, laid below,  To prove old England's overthrow. But, by God's providence, him they catch, With a dark lantern, lighting a match! A stick and a stake For King James's sake!  If you won't give me one, I'll take two, The better for me,  And the worse for you. A rope, a rope, to hang the Pope, A penn'orth of cheese to choke him, A pint of beer to wash it down, And a jolly good fire to burn him. Holloa, boys! holloa, boys! make the bells ring! Holloa, boys! holloa boys! God save the King! Hip, hip, hooor-r-r-ray!" Lucy quoted.

Her eyes continued to look at Mister Fawkes, who indeed looked impressed. "You didn't think I knew, did you?" she asked.

"No."

"I've seen V for Vendetta too," Lucy mocked. "But I know the stories and I know what was planned and what happened. So, you want take down the monarchy, Mister Fawkes, but yet you go for someone like me."

"Someone like you?"

"You didn't aim high enough."

"You wish that we kidnap someone higher than you? The King? The Queen? One of their kids?"

Shaking her head, Lucy dealt with morons. "Kidnaps mean under eighteen. You abducted me. If you are as smart as you think you are, Mister Fawkes, then you should know the proper word."

"I'm sorry I don't speak King's English."

"It'll always be the Queen's English to me."

Mister Fawkes smiled. "Of course, but, yes, we chose someone so lowly as you because we wanted you."

"You're not here for money, not that you would get much for me from the monarchy," she mused, "unless you plan to sell me on the Black Market." Lucy watched them. "No, you don't want to do that either. So if it's neither of those things, why choose someone as lowly as me?"

"Because you're not one of them."

"I'm not one of them?" Lucy let the words sink in. "You've lost me. Did you not just say I am the Duchess of Windsor? I have a title, land and money. Am I not royal?"

Mister Fawkes smiled, and his sagging skin pulled back. Lucy could deduce several things about him. He didn't come from lots of money, but he came from lots of ideas. He worked hard in his life, which was why he looked early sixties when he was around Harry's age. Yes, she knew Mister Fawkes was around Harry's age, if not William's age. That was where Mister Fawkes learned his hatred from the monarchy, as he watched these peers grow up with fortune and fame. Mister Fawkes had to work and grind to get through life. His yellow teeth proved he never came from money. And it wasn't the smell of booze on his breath but cigarettes. His hand held the gun, and there was a tan line on his ring finger, long removed. It wasn't divorce but death.

As Lucy studied him, Mister Fawkes watched her. Lucy stood with vomit on her skin, running down her body. She had been stripped down to her underwear and bra. Scars crossed her body, especially on her torso when she had been shot multiple times. Stretch marks were also placed there, with having been pregnant three times and having never been skinny. These scars weren't shown much. The bra and underwear to make her feel vulnerable but they didn't touch her.

Mister Fawkes had a daughter, Lucy assumed, and he wouldn't allow his daughter to be touched like that. Mister Fawkes wouldn't do that to another woman, no matter how much he disagreed with her politics.

As well as the man called Mister Fawkes was the only one not to wear a mask. The ones hoped to survive this, to escape this, to never go to trail and be imprisoned. They yet had hope to fight another day. Mister Fawkes did not. If he died, he wanted his face known. He wanted to be remembered. This was his dying wish. And if Lucy survived this, Mister Fawkes wanted his face to follow her until the end of time.

"Guy Fawkes died when he was thirty-six," Lucy said. "I'm thirty-six now. It's not a coincidence."

"You're intelligent, aren't you?" Mister Fawkes asked.

"Only sometimes."

"I think we'll quite enjoy ourselves together, Miss Smith." Mister Fawkes hand rested carefully on his gun, but he didn't move it against her. He didn't want to use it, because then he would've lost everything he worked for. It was only in case she attacked him. Lucy thought about it.

"How long do you plan on keeping me, Mister Fawkes?" She used his tone.

He was amused. "I don't want to keep you long. We realize you have a busy schedule. So if you help us, we help you."

"I've never been known to be helpful."

His fingers held the gun a little tighter. "I think you will be when you know what's at stake."