Tales after Dusk 04

"What about the witch?"

"A means to an end. Without revenge in her heart and the threat of the witch looming over the town, life will calm down. She won't have to be as strong for everyone."

Luther leans over and buttons Zeke's vest, straightening his appearance up for dinner, "It isn't a matter of if you deserve her, because the answer is no and always will be. No one deserves a woman such as Orane. The question is, does she deserve you? You are the one she loves, you are the one with the capability of making her happy—that answer is yes, she does deserve to be happy. She does deserve you."

Zeke sighs, "I want to be with her with all my heart—I just feel so, so—inferior. It isn't that she makes me feel that way, I just can't compare to everyone else."

Luther rises, waiting for Zeke to follow before he continues, "That is where you are wrong. Yes, you grew up in a world apart from the rest of us but that world was the world of books where anything is possible. Having been raised by the written word, your potential is limitless. Out here, growing up around others, dreams get stifled at a young age, replaced by reality and rules. As we try to fit into society we form boundaries for ourselves, telling ourselves what we can and cannot do, what we are capable of and what is beyond our reach. You do not have that—as far as you know, you can and will be capable of doing anything you wish, because you simply do not know better. But right now, the only person standing in your way," Luther pauses and puts a gentle finger on his chest, "is you."

They walk in silence as the wise man's words sink in. Making their way down the hall, they are joined by the rest of the group: John, Rollo, Professor, Mikhail and Luke.

"She was very lucky to have you, growing up," Zeke says.

He smiles softly, not saying a word. The group makes their way through the halls, down the twists and turns throughout the castle. As they pass those in uniform, the soldiers salute Luther. All of the other people they pass give them a wide skirt, as if in fear and respect. Zeke can't help but notice the furnishings getting nicer, more spectacular as they enter a different section of the castle; ahead of them is a set of grand wooden doors with two guards standing on either side. They perk up as Luther nears.

"We will take over protection of the Queen for now, soldiers. You can let your captain know that one of us will remain with her at all times until this crisis is over."

They salute before marching off. Luther gives the door a soft knock.

"Enter," a soft voice calls.

The men file into the room, all bowing deeply. Orane sits with her back to them, slightly slumped in a soft chair in front of a fire, writing in her book. Her posture suggests that she feels somewhat unhappy.

"Your majesty? I thought perhaps we should go over a plan before dinner tonight. Prince Ryan has taken it upon him to invite himself to our supper."

She makes a noise of exasperation, "That pompous arrogant ass. I thought I had made myself more than clear in my last response to his love letter." Her offhanded remarks suggest that she doesn't realize Luther isn't the only one in the room.

Luther shifts somewhat uncomfortably, "Well, regardless, that is why I brought the men here..."

She stops writing, "Oh." Shutting her book she tucks it into the cushion of the chair before getting up and turning towards them, "I see." Her face is cold, almost hurt and she avoids eye contact with Zeke on purpose. "Well, right now the ram is located in a stall that is made entirely out of salt. From all of the research and lore we have come across, it leads us to believe that true witches cannot pass a salt barrier unless invited to do so. I have no doubt that she will come, if she isn't already here."

"And how are we to kill her, your highness?" Rollo asks. All of the men nod, interested in the answer.

"A witch or a wizard is no different to kill than any other creature. Through the heart, slit her throat, dismember her," Orane waves her hand, "she will die just like any other. The only issue that might present itself is if she uses her powers upon someone. We know that this witch can only control another by means of the golden rope that Zeke has been providing for her for the past decade or so. Once she has a person entrapped by the rope, she can make them do her bidding. Here in lies a problem; if she somehow manages to get the rope around any of us...we might have to kill that person to get to her. If that is an issue for anyone, you are more than welcome to leave and stay in town until this is over. No one will think less of you for it." She lets her eyes wander over the men one at a time, finally resting on Zeke lastly. None of them move.

"I think we can all affirm that so far, none of us is the witch, is that correct?" Luther asks the Queen.

"Well, not exactly. Since we have arrived, we have parted company. The only way to ascertain that for sure is by a query."

"What do you mean, my lady?" Professor asks.

Orane walks over and sits on the edge of her desk, "From what we know, the witch may physically control a person under her spell, getting them to move or say what it is that she wishes; however, she is unable to access that person's memories. So if I asked Luther a question that only he would know and he answered it correctly, I believe it is safe to say that he is not the witch."

"Then I propose this, if I may," Professor asks briefly, waiting for Orane to nod an approval, "Each one of us asks everyone else a question that only they would know the answer to. That way we can all be certain that none of us are the witch. From this point on, when we need to talk to one another, we open the conversation with that query as confirmation."

Luther slowly nods, "That sounds like a good plan. Now, each of us pick a partner to start with. Zeke, I suppose this will be a bit more difficult for you, as you do not know Mikhail, Luke and John well. For that I suggest that after someone else has affirmed their identity, you come up with a phrase or a number to recall." He walks to Orane as his first partner.

She looks over the old face of her friend, considering a question before she speaks, "On my ninth birthday, what present did you give me?"

"I gave you a book, teaching you to identify the plants in the woods."

"Is that all?" she says, curiously.

Luther gives her a look, "And a knife, to which I told you never to tell your parents."

A soft smile crosses her lips; she nods for him to continue.

"Do you love him?" Luther asks.

Orane gives him a harsh look, "You are not playing by the rules of your own game, Luther."

"Cut the shit, Queen Orane. I am asking as the man who has watched over you for the past thirteen years, as your friend—do you love him?"

Her face softens a little, eyes growing wet, "Please ask me another question, General."

"That is all the answer I need," Luther says softly. He turns and walks away.

Professor arrives next, "My Queen, what was it that you asked me, when you came to get me from prison?"

Orane blinks away her tears, clearing her throat, "I believe I asked you if you loved your country, to which you told me to bugger off."

He chuckles, waiting for her question. She follows Luther's path, "Was he upset, when he found out I was the Queen?"

The Professor's brows furrow. He pauses for a moment, before continuing, "He was more upset that it wasn't you who told him. You can be rather intimidating, even if you don't mean it."

She nods softly to him, watching him leave. As the other men come and go, they exchange questions and answers until only Zeke remains. He walks up to her, avoiding eye contact as if he is afraid of what she will ask. Orane pinches her nose, closing her eyes.

"What did we do last night?" She questions softly, rhetorically. Though she slightly means to say it as a joke, it comes out rather serious.

"I thought we confirmed our feelings for one another," Zeke says, somewhat hurt. "I—I love you, Orane. Are we...over?"

When she opens her eyes and looks into his, her heart aches. She opens her mouth, pausing when the words don't come out.

There is a quick knock on the door; it opens and a servant enters, bowing deeply, "Dinner is ready, my Queen."

Orane rips her eyes away from Zeke. She nods to the servants. The men turn to Orane, waiting for her to leave first.

She clears her throat, voice coming out steady, "If you would be so kind as to give us a moment, gentlemen, Zeke has some questions regarding the witch. We shall meet up with you in the dining hall."

Slowly, one by one the men bow and exit the room until Luther is the only that remains. He gives the couple a glance, as if discerning if he should stay or not. Deciding that his presence isn't needed, he bows deeply and shuts the door behind him.

Her eyes finally return to Zeke's; though he is a massive man, with his shoulders drooped and sadness on his face, he seems rather small. She reaches up and cups his cheek in her hand; he leans into it, closing his eyes, dreading her response.

"No, Zeke, we are not over."

He sighs, "Do you feel as strongly about me?"

She nods slowly, but instead of responding, she tips her head up to his, softly kissing his lips. Automatically his hands slide around her waist, pulling her closer to him as he deepens their embrace. His voice, husky and breathless, "Then tell me so, please, I want to hear it."

Orane hesitates.

Zeke stops, slightly pulling away from her, giving her a curious, hurt look when she doesn't respond.

She swallows hard, "I—I can't."

Unable to contain himself, Zeke breaks from her grasp and turns away so that she doesn't see the tears forming in his eyes. Her soft, small hand slides over his shoulder, her voice quiet, "I can't say it, please understand Zeke. My feelings for you are feelings that I have for no one else, but everything that I have ever..." she struggles to spit out the word, "loved in my life has been ripped away from me. I refuse to lose you too."

Turning, he sees the sincerity in her eyes. Slowly he nods, "I understand." They share one last kiss before they are forced to separate and join the others for dinner.

...

The dining hall is a large room with a very tall ceiling. The table itself is grand and befitting of the room, forming a square horseshoe around the walls adjacent to the door, leaving a large empty area in the middle. A small band of musicians is set up in the corner to the right of the door; they play a soft, upbeat song to which a group of performers dance and flip to in time. As soon as the Queen enters, everyone stops and bows, the other dinner guests rising from their seats to do so, and remain standing as she nods in acknowledgement.

Zeke is mindful of his distance from Orane; he stays behind her a few steps, acting as if he was guarding her on the walk down the hall. After the dancers begin, he spots the two remaining empty seats at the table—one in the middle of the horseshoe for Orane, and one off to the left and down four seats, next to the Professor. As he makes his way to his seat, he looks around the table to discover a few new faces; some elegantly dressed women and men, no doubt people of importance. Then, his eyes fall on a new character standing just to the right of Orane's chair. Dressed in a lavish red, his handsome face is framed by blonde hair that is interrupted only by the small golden crown on top of it: Prince Ryan.

Orane hides her irritation well, though her friends can easily see that her jaw is clenched. As she makes her way to her seat, Ryan flashes her a brilliant smile and pushes her chair in once she is settled. He sits down next to her and begins to flirt.

"I am so pleased to finally meet you, Queen Orane. With only the lovely scroll of your handwriting, I was left to guess as to your beauty and I am pleasantly surprised to say that you far exceed anything I could have ever dreamed."

"Thank you, Prince Ryan," she says, politely enough, "but I hate to say that your trip has been all for not. I thought my last letter was rather clear—along with my parents any agreements they had are also dead."

Luther coughs abruptly, grabbing his wine glass to prevent himself from choking. Though Zeke has to strain to hear, he holds back a laugh. All of the guests are pretending to chat amongst themselves but every available ear is tuned to their conversation.

Ryan puts a hand up to his heart, slowly nodding his head. With thickly fake charm, he continues, "Dear Orane, I apologize that my intentions were not made clear. I completely understand—and agree—with everything you said in your last letter, however deep in my heart I feel that we were meant to be. That is simply why I came, so that I may win over yours."

Orane looks at him blankly, unable to come up with a response. Zeke can feel his stomach sink. He finds himself threatened by Ryan, jealous that he has the means to converse comfortably and the title to demand respect.

"I...see," she says slowly. "You came at a rather inopportune time."

"I am so sorry," he continues, "I shall leave at once and return at your earliest convenience."

Orane looks away from him, finding her wine glass, "Unfortunately that will not be possible. For the sake of Reddington's security, we have had to seal the gates for the time being." She takes a long sip, so that she can stomach what she has to say next, "I am afraid that you are stuck here, for now."

A smile grows on his face, "Then it appears luck is on my side."

Throughout all seven courses of dinner, Ryan lays it on thickly. Orane, though answering his questions in the briefest way possible, finds a way to make her affect seem polite but extremely disinterested. He tries hard to keep her attention, eventually introducing her to the woman on his right, Greta, his advisor. The thin, frail looking old lady has a stern face which is amplified by her tightly pulled back hair. Greta doesn't add much to the conversation, apparently intrigued more by the dancers than the Queen's apathy. Towards the last few courses, Orane begins ignoring Ryan almost entirely to strike up conversation with a few of the other unknown table guests, who lap up her attention eagerly.

Zeke tries not to blatantly watch them the whole evening. He spends most of his time staring at the dancers, straining to see Orane from the corner of his eyes.

Professor, adding poignant comments here and there to Zeke, finally brings up a subject of interest, "Apparently we are to guard the Queen in groups of two. Luther and Mikhail will attend to her tonight; at four in the morning they shall be changed out by John and myself. You and Rollo shall take the morning shift from breakfast until just after lunch. Then the rotation continues with Luke and Luther, Mikhail and John, me and you, Rollo and Luke, excreta. Remember, we are to ask our question upon each meeting."

"From breakfast until lunch," he repeats softly; something in his voice denotes his disappointment.

"Trust me, Zeke, that would be the most interesting duty to get. Apparently Prince Ryan has asked our Queen to show him the town tomorrow morning, so they shall be out and walking about..." He wants to say more, but doesn't have to, "Best to get a good night's sleep. For all that walking, that is."

After their meal is over, most of them wander to the drawing room. Rollo, Luke, Mikhail and John all decide to turn in, not feeling very comfortable amongst the 'stiffs' as they call them. Zeke himself feels ill at ease and would leave as well if he didn't desire to be near Orane. Luther, as the General and Advisor to the Queen, is rather well adapted to these types of situations, yet he has split off into a group with the other men of standing, joined by Greta. Professor, though tired, goes to the drawing room. Once a man of status, he doesn't find the task so daunting and he knows that his presence is well appreciated by Zeke.

Orane, chatting with another woman, is situated on the couch. At her side is Ryan, who seems to refuse to let her get too far away from him, much to Zeke's dismay. He and the Professor take up position in the far corner of the room by the large bookcase, a position that proves them with a full view of everyone.

A few of the more brave women wander over to them; one of them is a bit older, an extremely obvious bachelorette by the name of Nancy while the other is much younger, closer to Zeke's age. With porcelain skin and perfect curls, she resembles a doll—her name is Kitty.

"It's short for Katherine," she explains to the men while her eyes wander almost greedily over Zeke. As his face turns red, she queries, "Is it true, that the Queen employs a group of felons?"

Professor flashes her a wide grin, "Now where ever did you hear a thing like that, young one?"

"I heard it too," Nancy joins in, "That she picked the roughest, brutish men on the verge of the gallows to do her bidding as mercenaries. Nothing short of animals, they say, that she got from the territories."

Professor laughs musically, "That has to be the most amusing thing I have heard in a long time."

The group has a gay laugh, though Zeke has to force it. Someone wanders over to the harpsichord and begins to pluck out a lively dance. Professor offers his arm to Nancy, which she gladly accepts before they go spinning about the room, leaving the two younger ones behind.

Zeke shifts awkwardly, avoiding Kitty's eyes.

"You're not from around here, are you Ezekiel? I haven't seen you here in the castle before."

"No, I'm not. I come from...the countryside."

"Well I am glad you are here now. Are you going to offer me a dance?"

Zeke looks up at her curiously; with big fawn eyes she bats her lashes at him. "I hate to disappoint you, but I am afraid I don't know how."

As the musician switches to a slower, more intimate dance, Kitty smiles widely at him. She takes his hand and leads him out into the room, "What a shame. I shall show you how, so that the next time we meet you can ask me right away."

She places his hand just under her armpit, grasping the other in her's. Directing him as to what to do, Zeke tries but feels like a brutish beast fumbling about the room. Somewhat embarrassed, he keeps trying even as his face grows bright red.

From the corner of his eye, he catches a glimpse of Orane as she walks towards them, trying to hide the jealousy in her face.

"Dear Kitty," she says somewhat sweetly, "I am afraid our poor friend doesn't stand a chance with you as his teacher. Your skill and lightness of foot are so unparalleled, I regret to say that it appears you are making him feel...inadequate."

Caught off guard by her proximity, Kitty breaks away from Zeke and curtseys to the Queen, "Oh your Majesty, you are too kind. I was just hoping to show Ezekiel how to dance, so that he can better become acquainted with society."

Orane holds out her hand in a sweeping gesture, "May I try? Perhaps with someone as clumsy as me in his arms, he will feel greatly improved from your teaching."

Kitty giggles, accepting the complement. She bows her head slightly, before retreating to the couch to attempt her flattery on Prince Ryan, whose eyes are locked on to Orane like a hawk.

Orane takes up position with Zeke, speaking her guidance softly. Lost in her eyes, he finds himself completely at ease even though everyone in the room is watching them. He picks up the steps and retains the information so well that by the end of the dance he has greatly improved. Orane directs him into dipping her as the song draws to a close and he pulls it off without a hitch. Getting a round of applause from the crowd, the couple soaks up the approval.

She stifles a yawn, addressing everyone, "I am afraid, dear friends, that it is that time of the night—or morning, rather—that we must bid each other adieu." Orane bids her friends goodnight, heading to the door to leave when she is cut off by Prince Ryan.