"Follow my lead." Antonio's shoulders straightened as he took on the responsibility as the head of our convoy.
Before we even stepped out of the cover of the trees, Nick shook his hair out to give a fuller, luscious appearance and attempted to smooth his trim goatee. I took the back position of our line, all senses altered to the tiniest threat. Prospero could be anywhere in this land and I was ready to face him. Feeling the new familiar weight of my hidden dagger, I had evolved from shipwrecked noble's son to man hunting his frail prey. By tonight, Viola's murder would be avenged and her peaceful rest could start.
"Halt," one of the guards commanded. "Declare yourselves."
Instantly, we bent to bow before the fairies, as Antonio and Nick had shown me. Knowing that from the moment they see us, our etiquette would be analysed. Manners were valued higher than one's heritage, as it was with Father and his standards. A sense of ease relaxed my stiffened core, knowing the typical and universal charade of social expectation.
"What is your business at the palace?" The guard was closer now, no footsteps tapped or crunched the forest floor. Black ink patterns peeked through their armour and the exposed skin on their hands. It was odd to see the lack of resemblance between Antonio and the fae guard.
On a nod from Antonio, Nick and I stood out of our bow and respectfully waited, meeting the eyes of the guard questioning us. "I am Antonio, escorting Nicolas the weaver and his apprentice from the town. He has an appointment inside the palace with one of the courtiers." Antonio lowered his eyes once more, awaiting their decision.
"Your client?" the guard addressed Nick.
"Robin Goodfellow."
The guard's eyes widened at the recognition of the name. "You may enter." The guard stood out of our way and waved to notify the other guards on the other side of the vine wall. We had clearance.
Feeding off the excitement that brewed in my stomach, we made our way through the forest vine barrier. The music tickled my ears first, light, airy. Bells of twinkle delights and stringed ballads played harmoniously in the distance.
Walking through the ruling nature of the gardens, controlled chaos came to mind to the designing of the palace gardens. Various colours of flowers bloomed, intertwined with oaks and ferns from ancient to youthful branches. Each step brought new scents to overwhelm my nose, yet I never cringed at how intense it was. The fairy gardens were an intoxication like no spirit or ale could provide. It was the buzz of magic. No guard disturbed our journey and soon we made it to the long, low steps to a marbled courtyard that led to the palace outshining all-natural splendour. Crystal and carved stone structures alike enshrined the courtyard in various sapphire columns. More precious stone formations grew to shape Oberon's palace. Various gems of pure mineral glittered in the fading sunlight, the free-range vines of various roses spun and climbed the tallest wall of crystal pillars and stone walls. Above, the single treetop of a giant oak dominated its roof, each branch decorated by shimmering fabrics. There was nowhere of more wealth than the land of the fae. The music continued to rise louder to block out the sound of my feverish heart. The palace walls were interrupted in their formation by pristine, clear windows. Easily as high as a townhouse and dominant to letting as much light as possible into this structural wonder of nature. Hesitantly, Antonio pressed against one of the windows and its small section, big enough to fit us in, opened for our entry.
The large ceremony chamber was grand to say the least. Polished pearl tile dominated all other gemstones in this room; flowers sprang from all corners, arching to reach the ceiling and smaller trees wildly grew as they pleased alongside the oak, its base in plain open view. Where pearl wasn't lain for flooring, a soft moss acted in the place of a carpet. In the centre of the ceremonial chamber hung the chandelier: a hybrid of red roses and diamonds combined. Though its texture was that of an ordinary rose, its petal flesh twinkled with its diamond armour and the scent won against all others.
"That's Oberon's favourite," Antonio whispered to me as we carried on through. "The symbol of his coat of arms. A rose diamond is a rarity, the king only gives them to his mistresses."
Once we had tiptoed into another chamber, some stray eyes of the courtiers locked onto us from their couches. More eyes soon found us at the fringes of the chamber. Most fae had an array of forest hues for their eyes, along with complex patterns swirling along their skin. Antonio had mentioned the more noble their line, the more they sparkled. Hence why the royal guard all had black ink for their patterns. I was surprised that the fae eyes stayed on my face for so long, though I was used to public scrutiny. The rare occasion when Viola and I would travel to market did generate a few disturbed glances. Twins were rare to survive past childhood, and we were an oddity. We took three steps inside before the music stopped. The silence increased the pressure in my ears. I sensed every pair of fairy eye on us, until one fae entered the chamber, suffocating all attention to them. It had to be the king. I couldn't not look at King Oberon's direction, for only a king had the power to command such silence in my mundane mortal experience.
Staring straight back were a pair of blazing suns for eyes. Liquid fire of pure power raked over his subjects and almost caused a nervous tremor to almost shake my hands. Oberon's presence was stronger than the sun. A star of his own gravitational pull of dominance. At the corner of my eyes, Antonio and Nick had bowed low to the fae monarch, but I held straight, holding the weight of such eyes. I wasn't afraid to stare directly into the sun and burn. I had already forfeited my life to avenge Viola, and I had no desire to cower to any will than my own. A hurried scuttle of feet pounced to the king; on his request, a light whisper through his mane of wet gold hair broke some relief from the silence and our eye contact.
A lone guard stalked forward, bowed and addressed the king. "Your guest has almost finished in the dungeons, Your Majesty. Caliban is proving difficult and requesting more hands to secure the creature."
Another fae aide addressed the king for his attention. "Your Majesty, an envoy from the vampire queen have arrived and are ready for an audience."
"I will send men after this meeting has concluded." Both attendants nodded once to do the king's bidding. Oberon's deep, smooth voice captured everyone's ears.
"The Envoy of Queen Gertrude, Ambassador Laertes and the Royal Taster, Edmund the Bitten," a guard announced from the entry of the chamber.
The breeze of whispers blew across the chamber as the vampires walked in. Cloaked in white cloth to protect their skin, until they reached the shadowed portion of the chamber to disregard their cloaks. The vampires were dressed in quality garments underneath, illustrating their wealth and privilege. On my own volition, I crept closer to the monarch, ignoring Antonio's hand to pull me back to him. One vampire was youthful and stern, the other's deterioration reminded me of Romeo's weak parlour. They're attention was only to the king.
"Your Majesty," the vampires greeted in unison whilst not making eye contact with the king in his bow, eyes cast to the floor and remaining there. One of the vampire's feet positions was all wrong that the fae gentry clocked onto it almost instantly. Disgust frowned in most of their faces.
Oberon's lip twitched at the vampire's attempt at the customary bow. "Back so soon, Laertes?" Oberon's eyes remained on the ghoulish vampire. "How is dear Gertrude?"
"She is well, Your Majesty." Laertes straightened out of his bow.
Oberon waved his hand. "Why have you blessed us with the honour of your return to my court, with your little friend?" A questioning eye was thrown towards Edmund.
Laertes shuffled when his eyes met the king for a brief moment. Edmund stayed locked in his incorrect bow. "Your Majesty, it has come to our king's attention that your lands have expanded quite substantially over the course of the year. The border that was agreed on hasn't been changed since our records began."
"Your King? I thought Lear was still missing." Oberon frowned so regally to one of his aides, I wondered if Laertes was incorrect in his statement.
"We have a new king now, Your Majesty. Queen Gertrude has married Claudius, uniting the family into a much stronger tie. His Highness Claudius is most observant of your lands this past year and sends his regards in the form of Lord Othello to remind you of where the border actually lays," Laertes summarised fluently in politic. "King Claudius also requests handing over the fae Caliban, as we will now take responsibility for him as our recognised kinsman."
Oberon exhaled with a smile, making a few courtiers flutter in their lust. "How thoughtful that Claudius would take the time to monitor my kingdom, even with his busy schedule. I'll allow you to report back to Claudius and tell him that there is no need. I am perfectly capable of ruling my realm without his observation. And I prefer to have the extra space, I'm planning a new feature to go with my palace. Another lake perhaps. And I'm sure Sycorax's offspring would prefer to remain here, with his own kind."
"Your Majesty," Laertes stepped closer than what was customary by the harsh eyes from the closest guards, "this is far more serious. You have breached the truce and Othello has been granted permission to attack any of your people at the border. I'm here to prevent a war."
"Claudius is too kind to send such quality entertainment," Oberon sneered, turning to one of his aides. "Have Paris ready my warriors. I will lead the charge this evening." The king's aide scampered off with a spring in their step.
"Your Majesty? Please, there is no need for violence," Laertes practically gasped.
Oberon's glare was of interstellar intensity. "My warriors need some enjoyment and I need to stretch. Have our ambassador sent to one of the guest rooms, his little friend may return back to Gertrude tomorrow with the head of Othello for his new king. A gift to welcome Claudius to the throne, for his very brief reign."
Laertes was simply lost for words. Shock widened his eyes and loosened his jaw barely able to form words. "Please, Oberon."
"Your kin broke the truce first." Oberon's handsome face twisted into a silent snarl of his lip, thick hands moulding into fists. "The truce was one for one. We haven't received a child since Gertrude took the throne. That is too long without the sound of a babe's laughter. Twelve years. Strange, isn't it? And yet my people have toiled to pay tribute to feed your precious humans, for nothing."
Laertes turned lost and pale in his distress. "It is beyond my station to comment on my queen's decisions in regard to this matter."
"Claudius has his heir, yes? Your fragile, thoughtful prince," Oberon asked rhetorically. "Where is mine?" The king's voice broke a fraction before regaining his composure.
"I thought the fae couldn't lie," Edmund sneered, standing out of his bow. "And yet, you have spoken untruthfully, Oberon." The king's eyes blazed at the public challenge within his own chamber. "A mortal was delivered at the start of Gertrude's reign, when our Mother was taken from us, as a gift of goodwill to end our civil skirmishes. An heir protected in the mortal woman's pregnant belly, for safe keeping. Or am I mistaken?"
Oberon growled. "Titania has claimed the mortal boy as her own and will not return the boy to me. I have no heir."
"Then it's hardly fair to demand more when an heir was delivered to your lands by the good will of our wonderful Madonna. It is your incompetence that the child slipped through your ownership." Edmund couldn't hold back a winning grin. "The terms have been kept to."
"Your Majesty..." Laertes attempted to try again in diplomacy.
Oberon's face twitched, ignoring Edmund. "You have a mortal sister, do you not Laertes?"
"Yes. Ophelia." Laertes eyes turned to stone, vaulting away his emotions. A vampire with a human sister?
"Ophelia," Oberon tested the name on his thick tongue, tapping his fingers against his armchair. "I will withdraw to the original border that our species had established if Ophelia relocates to my realm."
Laertes fumed. "My sister isn't leaving my protection, nor is she going anywhere." A stance I too had taken.
Oberon shrugged, indifferent to ethics. "Her youth will make her more adaptable to thrive here. Think it over to see things my way, or you can have your stay extended indefinitely."
Déjà vu plagued my consciousness of how my father had arrived to such similar terms, wanting me to convince Viola of her arranged marriage match, taking her away from me. A buzz engulfed behind my eyes until the scene altered into father's study, where he sat glum and bloated by Viola's refusal.
"You selfish dictator." I strode forward, ignoring Father's meeting and all parties gathered, preparing for another political endorsement of self-gain for all I knew. The closer I got, the quieter the music had become. "You cannot condemn others to live out your dreams." A weapon shot out, cutting short my stride to Father. Mute was the tabaco smoked chamber. But I stood my ground against the social taboo, shaking with the urge to attack and to resist. If Father died, there was no assured fate of mine and Viola's survival. Father was a necessary evil.
Father frowned at the interruption; the longer I stayed, the worse his reputation stained. One I hoped to damage beyond repair. "My dreams are for the good of the realm, boy."
"Your dreams are corruptive. You treat everyone like pawns to your game. But I will not play it. I will not give you the satisfaction." Pushing forward, I ignored the trickle of blood from a sword's edge, it only reenforced the need to attack my target. Through a fog, a hungry snarl hissed to my present.
"And just what will you do? You're just a boy." Father chuckled, finding my tantrum amusing.
"I will resist you at every opportunity and I will find others to join me to fight against you. By prioritizing your dreams, you've turned my life into a nightmare and I will not stand by. You've tormented us long enough in our captivity." Tears blurred my vision of Father, and though I was watched by many of his friends and political allies, there was no sense of shame that thundered over me.
"You are mine to do as I see fit." Father frowned.
"We are not yours," I gasped, unable to breathe, until all I saw was red. I attacked; the fuel of my rage exploded into my pounce at Father. Striking a surprise blow to his arrogant, perplexed face. Yet, my arms were ensnared by his friends, preventing another assault; a punch to my own jaw pounded a death march on my consciousness. "You were never a father to us. You were our jailer. I will never forgive you for what you've done to her." I spat at his feet, tasting my own blood filling my mouth as I was dragged some ways. "I vow here and now that you'll pay for every tear that she cried. You'll pay for taking her freedom. You'll pay with your own life for taking Viola's away. Your life is mine to take, Sebastien!" A mighty thunder shook the ground, causing a tremble to vibrate through my kneeled frame. One moment I thought the earth would engulf me, powerless to such calamity, the next breath the ground stabilised and darkness suffocated my world.
A few heartbeats later my memory snapped back into place. Sucking in desperate breaths, I bolted upright to find myself back in the Fae Palace, surrounded by a different species in another world. It was just a memory. It didn't take long for the awkwardness of my episode to linger a sour aftertaste to the air. Finding Oberon sat and leaning forward with solar eyes on me, turning a golden crystal in his hand, I swallowed down my shame. Though every pair of eyes were watching, I took interest in the vampire Laertes. Never would I have ever thought that I would share commonality with a vampire, until now. The priority of our sisters' happiness.
I turned to Antonio. "What happened?"
"You fainted. Is everything alright?" He brushed the wrinkles from my shoulders. I nodded, numb to the events of my memory.
"Water fae, come forward with your companions to the king," one of Oberon's aides commanded Antonio.
Without delay, Nick and I were scuttled forward and bowed again at the foot of Oberon's throne, the vampires were in reach to strike us down.
"Rise," Oberon commanded, echoing in the hall.
I cringed at the audible cracking of Nick's back when we straightened out the pose. Feeling the intense heat of Oberon's eyes, I glared my own fire directly back. Mortal or not, I was a nobleman and till my death, held myself in higher regard to this primitive island king. Using a fake name changed nothing to my own self-worth. Open curiosity was the one emotion I could detect from Oberon, besides the taste of sadness that mingled with his oak and lavender scent.
"Your Majesty," Nick coughed to clear his throat, derailing Oberon's focus from me. "My apprentice Roger and I are here for an appointment with one of your courtiers, we humbly beg your pardon if we have offended your presence and that of your court and guests." Nick cringed as his back contorted back into a bow. To the side, Edmund and Laertes leaned ever closer to sniff in my direction. Though their nod to each other was subtly shallow, I didn't miss it. The vampire Romeo must've told his friends of my blood. Now more fanatics were hungering for me. They probably had started to imagine tearing me limb from limb.
Oberon scrunched up two fingers, beckoning me closer. Without fear but immense shame, I stepped forward. Oberon's presence did hold gravity, though not the suffocating climate that my father had commanded over me for so long.
"Your Majesty, I'm sorry for disrupting your chamber," I greeted without a bow, waiting for the king's next words. My desire to submit and play the role of the weaver's apprentice was outweighed by my own pride, but I didn't care. I knew it was no good, but in staring at the sun as Oberon, one is reduced to one atom of identity. Melting all my mental walls away of my own sanity's protection. But staring at Oberon, there was one thought of identity. I was Sebastien.
"I suggest you take better care of your apprentice, weaver." Oberon glowered at Nick, motioning with his hand for the end of a private introduction. Nick took hold of my arm to pull me away, mumbling profusely to oblige Oberon.
I take it that your relationship with your father wasn't exactly the best, a voice whispered from the back of my skull, dull and muted. For a moment, I'd thought Oberon had invaded my mind, but the fae king was distracted by close conversation with his aides. No, child, I'm not Oberon. Don't speak aloud.
Mhmm, the presence chuckled, catching the last visual remains of my recent memory. And yet, you vowed to kill your own father. I nodded, there was no point denying it. Take heed, boy, an unfulfilled vow will be costly, each price is customised in torment till it's completed. Vows are sacred after all. Then I won't fail, I wanted to argue back to the foggy voice.
In a heartbeat, both vampires stared at my presence, the only human within the chamber. Of course I stood out like a chicken in a fox den. Having already survived one vampire attack I had no wish to repeat the experience. Coming close to my side, Antonio instantly stepped in front growling in open warning, social protocol be damned. I had no intention of being any vampire's snack when Prospero was so close.
Thankfully, Oberon noticed the tense silence. "There will be no feeding in my kingdom," he warned.
The vampire Edmund cocked his head; his black eyes had yet to leave my face. Watching my pulse as Romeo had as he stalked my broken body. His focused predator gaze was so concentrated on me, he didn't notice a fae guard attempting to shuffle the vampire away from the king's audience.
"Pardon me, Your Majesty." Edmund slapped away the guard's prompting hand. "But that mortal must come with us on our departing." Laertes's paranoid eyes almost crossed at the depth of how their audience had been received.
"And why would I allow that?" Oberon challenged.
Don't let them take you, not yet. The voice resubmerged to my mind's consciousness. Each time the voice slithered into my ear, the more I doubted my sound mind. Was I going mad?
"Because I know you've sent a Goodfellow into my Madonna's court. A spy only answerable to your whim." Edmund dared to step closer to me but kept eye contact with the fae king. "That boy is the proof I need." I frowned at the vampire's words; I was no one's proof for anything.
Laertes whispered, "You've already declared war on Illyria."
"That was a dangerous move, Oberon," Edmund sneered. The vampire attempted to snatch at my arm until Oberon's guards bared their weapons on the vampire's exposed flesh. Onyx crystal weapons shined in warning to the vampires from the cringe that cracked Laertes's composure. At the close proximity of the crystal point, Edmund scorned, whilst its onyx glittered surface called out to me. I starved to touch such a crystal. "You dare threaten us, Oberon? We can threaten your own if we are harmed."
At the vampire's warning Oberon stood, naturally holding the weighty stares of all present without flinching as the tallest in the chamber. "You entered my kingdom, my palace, my home, and you attack my guests. Insult my honour and threaten to harm my people. Seize them."
Fae guards swarmed the vampires. Edmund put up a fight, swiping claws alongside his exposed fangs. Black eyes focused on me. Antonio's urging arm to stir me away from the commotion brought my mind back to focus. Gratitude pooled in my veins as Antonio led me back to Nick's side, waiting for the vampires to be removed from the king's presence.
"What I do to command my Goodfellows is my business alone, and dear weakling," Oberon taunted Edmund through a smile, "if there is a Goodfellow within the heart of your coven hovel, you will know about it too late. I will allow Laertes to stay and his simple friend to be escorted to our new established border at dawn without his cloak. A sunny pilgrimage back to his precious Mother."
"You will regret this, Oberon," Edmund howled through the encasing arms of the four guards dragging the vampire away, stabbing him with their blades. "Sycorax will awaken and will reap Her revenge, She will destroy you. Your days are numbered, King of Shadows." Edmund's vicious cackle of the ironic title for the fae echoed throughout the chamber until a calm silence descended. Laertes, calm though in shock, was led quietly in the opposite to Edmund, further in Oberon's palace.
"Take him to Puck," Oberon ordered a close guard, nodding to our trio. "After their business has concluded, they may have rooms until the border is safe for their journey home. I don't want this Othello catching sight of them," Oberon ordered his guards.
"Thank you, Your Majesty." Nick bowed low with Antonio, I followed along and the king's aides waved us away.
By the brisk chirp from the guard, we were escorted out of the chamber and through the maze of halls. The harmonies of fairy strings were struck up again once we had left their sight. As we walked away from Oberon, the king was in deep conversation with multiple attendants, planning their attack for tonight. The further we descended down the palace steps, the colder the air became. Soon each breath felt like inhaling pure snow straight from the mountain peak. I had lost track how many corridors and staircases we explored, how many lefts and rights we scurried through unseen. The closer we came to Nick's appointment, he continuously became more anxious. Wiping his sweaty hands on his jerkin, straightening any loose hair and an uneasy gait resulting in a few trips on marble staircases. The palace interior itself was immaculate, as with the chamber below, stone and crystals carved their own unique beauty alongside the trees and flowers embellishing each corridor and open room. As we descended lower in the staircase and passed numerous hallways, the mossy floor had turned to dirt then to pearled cold stone. Each passageway had less light and the dim atmosphere was not friendly. Less greenery grew here as the darker crystals held dominion. My companions were soon becoming twitchy with nerves. This was no place for anything of nature. Within moments, the guard informed us of the door that led to the dungeon's reception, where Robin Goodfellow lurked, leaving us to venture there for ourselves.
"Are you alright, Nick?" Glancing sideways at the nervous weaver, his parlour turned suspiciously green.
Nick shrugged, clearing his throat. His eyes darted everywhere but the door that awaited us. "Yeah, just about to strike a business deal with a near immortal being whose mere presence threatens an unruly sound to escape my ass." Nick's voice turned shrill with paranoia.
"Roger and I are with you, Nick," Antonio reassured him.
"Besides," my mind was racing at evolving my plan, "you have to keep Goodfellow distracted long enough for us to get past them."
"How do I even distract them?" Nick's head fell heavily into his worn hands. "Can this even work? What if the vampires can tell which silk is mortal made and the other is fae produced? I'm done for. I'll never get to act again." The rational part of my brain shook away the weaver's superstitions.
"But you won't know until you try, Nick." I levelled the weaver, bringing him back to reality as he had for me.
Now was the moment, my revenge was at hand. My withered heart alighted at such hope and my stomach held no hesitation. With all of my being, I would find inner peace when my enemy was dead. Stalking closer to the door in the dark stone hallway, I glanced back at Nick Bottom and Antonio. "Ready?" On their nods, I opened the door.
At the side was a small desk and bored fae guard. On our arrival, their limp body shuffled to stand. "Visitors?" he asked. Nick's stomach gurgled loud the affirmative and he nodded his head. The fae guard produced a piece of paper attached to a board, feathered quill and ink ready to be used. "Sign here." He gestured at the marked papers. "Exits are marked by the glowing green fungus. Don't touch or interact with the prisoners. If you get bitten, you're to report to the first fae aider for treatment. A fire alarm testing will commence later, so no need to be worried, just proceed to the designated areas, calmly. No littering on site and no smoking." Having signed the admin paperwork, we walked through the next set of doors at the guard's permission.
Without glancing behind, I attentively stepped through the low archway and past the mist of Oberon's dungeon. The cold was unexpected, as well as the loose crystal flooring. Goosebumps prickled my skin after a few shy steps inside, the stench of rot filtered through my nose, tightening my throat from the assault. Not wanting to waste time, my feet quickened through the cave tunnel, barely dodging out of the way of sharp crystal formations. The darkness deepened, sinister in its blinding. In some forgotten corners of the tunnel, fungus sprouted in aluminous fashion, providing such relief for my stressed heartbeat. Out of caution, I wrapped a spare scrap of cloth around my lower face to protect from any fumes of the plant and the mist. Finally, the crystal gravel levelled out to loose floor, more fungus grew sporadically to reveal the dungeon and exits at the end of its entirety. The cave's interior literary rained, causing the rock to be slippery to walk on. Magically, thunder shook through the dungeon as the interior gave way to a circular circumference. The wall naturally formed with crystal hanging low in various sizes, but nevertheless fatal if gravity commanded the fall. Along the walls hung like forgotten trophies were the forgotten bodies of multiple people. Some more monstrous in physicality than others.
Beyond lay a fortification, a large opening widened to my viewing, past a set of humble wooden stairs. The stench of rotting wood, blood and a sickly-sweet scent that had no business to be in such a dismal atmosphere. Tree trunks and stone walled this interior. Coherent together, the natural elements entwined to make cells by branch and rock. Fungus grew sporadically, glowing alongside some torch light, and crystals of various colour and size marked off each cell that were scattered with no reason. Inside, each prisoner was settled on their knees, muzzled and bound by vines. Like the Oberon's diamond rose, these vines were embedded with more tempting onyx crystals, like the fae guards had used to ward off the vampires. My stomach growled as I caught the scent of all the crystals, begging to be eaten. From the deterioration of the prisoners, I couldn't guess anything of their identity. Rotting black wounds marked its pigmentation along their visible skin. Above each of their heads, a single twig bled a shallow drop of ruby liquid every few moments. Some prisoners were even stained by the liquid. Further on, vines and forgotten thorns marked off a section of the prison that sealed away for private affairs. There was no doubt in my mind that Prospero was beyond that thick, thorny nest. To an abandoned side, a table with chairs were in attendance; some parchment was also a strewn there. Only one fae was in attendance in this dark pit. The fae was idly leaning against one of the cell's branch walls, whispering intently to the prisoner, whose whimpers and gasps echoed in the quiet dungeon. Nick gulped, watching Robin Goodfellow. Androgynous, lean, tall and unageing. Though I wouldn't've thought that when looking at their innocent face didn't suit this gloomy atmosphere. A pixie completion, soft brow, sharp cheekbones and firm jaw. This fae was timeless, maintaining all the gentle qualities of youth. By their adorned garments, Goodfellow was handsomely paid for servicing their king.
Be careful, child. Do not trust that fairy spawn.
Robin turned at the sound of our arrival, naturally echoing through the cave. "Nicolas," the fae purred through a generous smile; magenta opal eyes flashed in delight.
"Master Goodfellow." Nick bowed respectfully, prompting Antonio and I to bow as well.
Robin bristled and shoved away from the prisoner, pouncing at the distance between us. The fae took Nick by his arms and boosted him to stand. "Oh, Nicolas. Forget the formalities. Call me Puck, I insist." They winked, before practically pulling us into their brief greeting embrace before sealing the dungeon door shut with wicked enthusiasm.