Banished

7: Off with Her Head... Again

"Rule #29: When deposing an evil queen, beware of dogs. As well as dragons, gargoyles, and flying monkeys. Wicked royalty is well known for idiotic yet deadly pets."

-Definitive Fairy-Tale Survival Guide, Volume 2: Villains

7
Off with Her Head...Again
Rexi

Mic and I had switched places yesterday, and so far no one had carted me off, so I assumed my secret was safe. I'd mostly kept to myself and tried to keep Gwen as drunk as possible. Which was easier than it sounded because she was a notorious lush. We were sitting in the dining hall, and she was already eight glasses in. I needed to make a move soon because according to Mic, Dorthea was still alive. But maybe not for long.
It sounded pretty far-fetched. I mean, I skewered her with Excalibur for hex's sake. I'd seen her disintegrate into green embers and float away. Then again, Oz had hinted in his obtuse way that she wasn't totally gone. He'd simply said, "She's exactly where she needs to be."
Well, if she was alive somewhere, I was going to bring her back to Story, to us. Not because I sent her away in the first place but because there was absolutely zero chance I could beat Blanc and Morte alone. So far I'd been on the defensive. I wasn't stupid. Water immunity or not, taking on that enchantress was suicidal. They couldn't reach us here in Camelot...yet.
Morte, the Grimm Reaper, was not stupid. I'd had a dream last night. One where all I could see was Kato in the darkness. He begged me to come to him, to step outside Camelot's protection spells. But I knew better, and Morte had used a dream of Kato to draw me out because he knows I won't kill him while he occupies Kato's body. It should have been me who had died, my body playing host to that demon. Except Kato sacrificed himself and took my place. Yet another impossible debt to repay added to the one I owed Dorthea. Hard to pay back the dead, though now maybe she wasn't.
"But really, what is it with those two and self-sacrifice?" I muttered, thinking of Kato and Dorthea. "Pffft. What good is true love if you don't stick around to enjoy it?" I had been in love with Kato very briefly, but it was really only an echo of Dorthea's affection for him through our bond. The experience was gutting. And if that was just an echo, I couldn't imagine what full strength of her emotion for him would feel like. "Grimm, preserve me from true love."
"Here, here," Gwen said, holding up her glass. "Play with them, twist their strings and make them dance, but never let them close to your heart. It will be the death of you." She took a swig of her mead and motioned for another. This time the serving wench who brought it was not a wench at all, but Mordred. She continued, "Who needs love when you have loyalty?"
Mordred said nothing as he refilled her glass.
"Isn't that right?" Gwen said a little louder, curling her fingers in his hair, pulling him closer.
Mordred bowed out of her grasp. "Of course. I am true to the rightful queen."
Loyalty. Ha! That little toad sold me out the first chance he got. No, I'd been a toad very briefly, and that creature was too noble for the likes of him. A slug perhaps. I should douse him and his grail with salt.
I stared at the salt shaker on the table and fantasized about beating him with it.
In my brief absence, Mordred and Gwen had stopped accepting storybook refugees-the survivors of Blanc and Morte's reign of terror-into Camelot. Gwenevere had used the grail she'd taken from me to keep the borders closed, and she seemed content to live it up with cake and mead and her loyal boy toys while the world outside succumbed to its fate. Now I was a fan of self-preservation, but I'd seen the hate that Blanc carried for Gwen. And there was no story or alternate world where the self-proclaimed queen of Camelot would be safe. It was only a matter of time before Blanc found her. And deep down, Gwen had to know it. Every once in a while, you could catch the fear as her eyes darted around at the smallest sound.
Gwen gestured sloppily across the table at me. "Drink! Do you think you're too good to drink with me?"
"Quite the opposite, my fair lady. This ale is for thine royal tongue alone and is far too special of vintage for one so low as he," Mordred said, sealing the braggart.
"Someone's gotten awfully full of himself," I grumbled.
"Boys, boys," Gwen said, swaying in her chair. "You can fight over me all you want, but..." She paused for a moment, trying to catch her thoughts. "No, that's it. I do so love it when men duel for my favors." With a hiccup, she broke into a giggle fit. Then she face-planted on the table.
Mordred let out the breath he was holding. "Stars and suns, that woman can hold her drink. Even with the sleeping draught I added, she still managed three quarts."
"You drugged her?"
"Someone had to, as thou were taking far too long to do it. By the steel of Excalibur, you've had an entire day." Mordred made a face and then started sifting through Gwen's pockets.
My jaw dropped. "Wait a minute. You knew it was me? When? How?"
Mordred looked up but still kept searching. "The moment you spoke. A rose by any other name would still have the same thorns."
For once, I thought his botched cliché was intentional.
"Though I realize," he grunted while he hefted Gwen to rummage the other side of her, "'twas I who told you a ruler cannot afford to trust anyone...there are times when t'would be much more convenient if thou would trust me. I did say I was loyal to the rightful queen."
"How was I supposed to know that was a secret message? I'm the king, not the queen. Or at least I was when I had Excalibur."
"Hog sloth. The sword lives. 'Tis merely hiding again, waiting to be claimed. Forget not that I was around when the rule of kings was made, that only a man might have the strength to wield Excalibur, but even I think that 'tis archaic. Ye may have to pretend to be a man, Rex the King, to get the rest of the kingdom to follow thee, but ye never pretend for me. I saw. The sword chose thee. And I see ye as ye are. 'Tis enough for me." He stood up and huffed. "Now kindly assist me in searching the sensitive areas as thou art a woman and that is more proper."
Now it was my turn to pull a face. I looked at Gwen's cleavage threatening to break free of the far too small dress. "Boundaries, man. I don't think that's proper for anyone."
"Weren't we trying to behead her the other day?"
"Keep your hands to yourself and don't go changing the subject. I'm assuming you're looking for the grail," I said.
Mordred wrinkled his nose. "I've already searched her rooms. What else could I possibly want from the beast?"
"Hey, I don't judge," I said, putting my hands up. "Much."
Looking back down at Gwenevere, I saw a glint. The sparkle of silver. A chain looped around her neck that disappeared within the plunge of her neckline.
"Aw, man. Do you think?" I asked, pointing out the chain.
Mordred tapped his finger to the rough stubble of his chin. "T'would be the safest place. Where no man would dare tread." He smiled and clapped me on the shoulder. "I leave this quest to you, brave knight. Good luck."
"Thanks," I grumbled. "Guess there are limits to what you'll do for the grail."
I slowly inched my hand forward. Looting a passed-out body seemed wrong, but she'd stolen my grail in the first place. Steeling myself for what was next, I gulped and moved the last bit toward the chain at her neck. A hand clasped mine before I touched her. "Ahh!" I screamed, and my eyes flew open. Gwen screamed back at me.
I smacked her hand. "Let go. Let go."
"What in newt were you doing? Trying to take my virtue, you scoundrel? I always knew you were a no-good, rotten, thieving-"
"Hydra?" I blinked and checked her eyes. They were rolling around a bit, but that could have been from the drink.
"'Course. That Gwennie is a lightweight 'ompared to me. Hic." She tried to stand, but she fell against Mordred. "Well, hello, hot stuff. Wanna take a ride on my broom?"
Mordred tilted his head to peek around her and glare at me. "Are you sure it's not her? 'Tis still as handsy as a sea star."
I sighed. It was handsy as an octopus. But close enough. "Yup, that's Hydra."
"I was swigging mead way before I shrunk my first head." She beat her chest proudly.
"Good for you." I thumped her back. "But we're kinda in a hurry. We can fill you in on the particulars after we swap heads. First, the grail please." I held out my hand and waited while she pulled and prodded. Fished and finagled. And finally produced the inkwell from her bodice and gave it to me.
Mordred's face paled, and he blinked repeatedly. "I fear I will never be able to unsee such horror."
"Bah, be thankful I didn't charge ya for the pleasure. Thought you said we was in a hurry. Move it already."
Between Mordred and me, we managed to help-or rather drag-Hydra back to her newly renovated model castle. She waved off the curious stares of those we passed. "Don't you gots something better to be doing?"
Luckily, the squires were used to Gwen's tirades and scurried off before she got really nasty.
When we reached her room, we plopped her on the bed.
"Okay, where can we find a new head?" I asked, getting straight to business.
"How would I know?" she said and yawned. "Ima just gonna rest my eyes for a second."
"Very helpful. Thanks," I said. "I'll take the closet. Mordred, you take the chest, but I think it's locked." Without a word, he sheered off the lock with his ax. "Show-off," I said in response to his triumphant smirk.
I wasn't careful. I just started chucking stuff out of her closet. Gwen was a slob. She had everything from takeout containers to potion bottles to old sports equipment heaped on the floor. The crystal cats scattered around the room started mewling, quiet at first and then louder.
"S'okay, little ones. Mummy's right here," Hydra said and then resumed snoring. Wait, little ones? Not Hydra. Gwen.
"We have to hurry," I said to Mordred.
"I had not noticed," he answered in a gravelly tone.
"Well, you don't have to growl at me," I complained.
"I didn't."
We both turned to the door and said in unison, "Mr. Fluffypants."
The pint-size glitter factory of terror, Gwen's guard-nightmare, stamped its hooves from the doorway. Smoke drifted out of its nostrils.
"Thaz right," Gwen said. "My fluffles is here. He'll save me. Won't you, sweetgums?"
Fluffypants whinnied in response.
"Aw, hex. We're rotted." For all his pink sparkle, I'd seen him devour a man who'd had the gall to wake the queen before noon.
I reached into the closet and grabbed the first object my hand touched. A croquet mallet. Okay, I could make that work. "Hey, Fluffy," I called, lining up my shot. "Go fetch!" With a mighty swing, I took aim at Gwen's head, sending it sailing over the nightmare's head and rolling down the hall. Fluffypants couldn't resist his basic nature and tore off after the modified ball.
Mordred gawked.
"What? Plans are overrated. Now bolt the door. It'll be back," I instructed and returned to my own search.
With renewed frenzy, I yanked stuff from the never-ending closet. A beating started on the door. That was fast. Fluffy was back. And he'd brought his guard friends and Gwen's screeching head.
"Break it down! Blow it up if you have to. Just get in there!"
I guess getting beheaded sobers you up real fast.
Mordred leaned against the door, his ax at the ready in case they broke through. I hefted a bowling bag, hoping to use it as a weapon. It grunted. Fumbling with the zipper, I yanked it open. There was no ball but a mass of red hair. I had no idea which head this was, but it had to be better than the one screeching outside.
After pulling it out, I stuck it onto the prone body with a slurp. The walls of the model castle shook and shimmied, shrinking in.
"What in graces?" Mordred said, eyes wide. He looked out the window as if he was calculating the distance to the ground if he bailed out.
"Stand there and hang on," I reassured him. "Just wait for it."
The windows shattered as the room folded in on itself. And with a pop, we were gone.