Red and Gold

[The Lifted Lorax]

Will update original post with spoilers of each chapter for easier reading, then bump in the thread with the newest update. Constructive criticism welcomed, but please keep in mind the "constructive" part. Flames will be donated to the Eye of Sauron.

Rated M for adult situations, violence, and foul language.


ONE

“I hear you will deliver anything.”

“Yes, Your Majesty. Anything that will fit in my basket.”

“Utter secrecy?”

“I'd die first.”

“No questions asked?”

“None. Anywhere in this wide world.”

“Good.”

That was how Anna had wound up on the Queen's Road and had so far made it unmolested. The Queen had produced a silver chalice, intricately decorated around the rim with flowing runes she couldn't read. Over the past few years she'd transported many things in her basket, and this chalice was the one item she'd barely been able to restrain her questions about. She was curious, of course, about other things she'd carried, but discretion was the whole reason she was able to stay in business. Unfortunately that meant this chalice, too.

“Take this to the vampire chieftain Faelin by the turning of the first Autumn leaves.” The first day of Autumn was two months away, but the vampire territories were in the north where the leaves turned sooner.

“Your Majesty, what's to keep them from capturing and feeding on me once I cross their borders?”

The Queen produced a folded, sealed piece of parchment and an amulet. The ruby in the amulet seemed to glow with some hidden internal fire. “Show these to any who question you. It should go well with your cloak,” she added a an afterthought. The Queen's darkly painted lips turned up in a mall smile and Anna smiled back nervously. She wasn't sure if it had been meant as a compliment, but whether it had been or not it had sounded vaguely threatening.

Anna drew that cloak more tightly around herself now. Granny had sewn it for her as a present for her thirteenth birthday. She was twenty now, but the riding cloak had become somewhat of a trademark. Certain people dealing in certain items knew what to look for, but ordinary folk who stayed well clear of unsavory characters never looked twice at her. In certain cities she tended to steer clear of certain areas where her bright apple red riding cloak had become too well-known. The places where anybody who had heard that Red was in town gathered at certain street corners. Traditional morals aside, money was money and she wasn't above delivering opium and other similar sundries between dealers, though drugs were hardly the most nefarious thing that had been in her basket. The black market paid well, often better than anything legal.

“We haven't discussed price, Your Majesty.”

The Queen had laughed and leaned forward in her chair. “You get to live.” Anna gulped. “If you're as good as they say, this shouldn't be a problem for you.”

“No, ma'am. No problem.”

She had a reputation and it kept her making good money. Red didn't ask questions, Red never blabbed, and Red never said “no.” These were all things she had built a business on, though that last one wasn't quite true. The rule was anything she could carry in her basket, and she'd had to amend it to include things that wouldn't get her the death sentence. One warlock had tried to get her to deliver a fairy as a slave, and while slavery was legal here in the Kingdom of Hearts, she would have been passing through the White Kingdom where trafficking was punishable by death.

Still, despite this her reputation held true. Unfortunately it was because of this reputation that Granny's door had been kicked down in the middle of the night and Red given five minutes to get dressed before being taken to the Queen. She wished she could have told Granny she was alright.

“Where ya goin', Red?”

Anna was jerked from her thoughts. Only close friends and family called her by her birth-name anymore, so she was uncertain whether the stranger leaning against the tree on the side of the road actually knew that's what she was called.

“Taking some muffins and flowers to my Granny,” she lied. “She's sick, so I'm going to take care of her.”

The man chuckled. “Going to Granny's, going to Granny's...Granny sure moves around a lot, huh Red?” He had a charming smile, but Red was still cautious. One hand slowly fell to the sword at her hip—her only weapon—and rested on the pommel.

“What do you want?”

“Well ain't that a loaded question.” The stranger's eyes flicked up and down her body. A glimmer of wolfish hunger betrayed his charm. “It's not what I want. It's what the Queen wants. Whoa whoa hold it!” He held out his hands as he watched her fingers curl around the hilt of her sword. “She sent me. Body guard type of deal.”

“Bullshit.” Red didn't draw, but didn't relax her grip either. “She sent me out alone, knows I work alone, and doesn't much seem the sudden concern type.”

“What, you want proof? Here.” He reached into his vest pocket and removed a piece of parchment. “Signed by Her Royal Pain herself.”

Red reached out and snatched it from his hand, staying out of arms reach. It had the same seal as the letter she bore. Not being able to read very well, she merely skimmed the document while pretending to read it all. She played for time by silently puzzling out his name.

“Henri Lamont?” She looked up at the scruffy stranger.

He was very tall, clearing the top of Red's head by at least a foot if not more. Clearly he hadn't shaved in several days, but the scruffy beginnings of a tawny brown beard wasn't unattractive. He was an enigma to Red, with a swampland accent, clothes commonly found in the Kingdom of Hearts, but a hairstyle found more often in the White Kingdom. In Red's homeland most men wore their hair long, tied in a ponytail, but this Henri Lamont had shorter hair the same light brown shade as his beard that tapered at the nape of his neck. Red supposed if she asked he'd tell her he'd grown up near the Beanstalk Forest.

“At your service.” He bowed and graced her with another charming grin. She didn't trust him.

“So...if you're supposed to be my bodyguard,” Red said slowly, “and the Queen sent you after me, how did you get here before me?” She handed the paper back to him.

“Shortcuts, Little Red. I got all kinds of shortcuts.”

“I know these woods better than anyone and I can't think of any good paths from the castle.” Red began walking again and Henri started to follow.

“Didn't say I took a path. Said I took a shortcut.”

“Well aren't you just all sorts of a creepy bastard.” Her hand stayed at her sword but her grip relaxed. She didn't trust him, but he didn't seem to pose an immediate threat and it was nice to have someone to talk to.

“At least I never got your hopes up.” Red shrugged in agreement. “So Red, what's your real name?”

“What's yours?”

“Touche. Alright then where are you from?”

“You first.”

Henri sighed. “Look, this is gonna be a long, miserable walk if we can't talk about ourselves.”

“Well...we obviously both have a lot of enemies, so there's something we've got in common.” Henri barked a short laugh. “So where do yours come from? What exactly do you do for the Wicked Bitch of the East?”

“Head of Her Majesty's Secret Police.”

“I knew it! I knew that was real!”

Henri smiled. “Clever girl. Officially we don't exist, but...well...” He shrugged. “How about you, Red? Where do your enemies come from?”

“Heh...the better question is where don't they come from? It's hard to make friends you can trust when you're a delivery girl like me.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Well deliver anything, don't I? Got the worst of the world right here in my basket. Done stuff I ain't proud of either to hold up to my end of things.”

“Mm, that I've heard. 'Red never says no.'” He had a tone Anna didn't like.

“Yeah? Where'd you hear that from?”

“A man.”

“I talk to lots of men.”

He smirked. “I know.”

Red stopped in the middle of the road, putting her fists on her hips. “Look, I'm not the one who asked you to come along, so if you're expecting—”

“Not expecting anything!” Henri held his hands up defensively. “Just, y'know, it gets cold at night.” They started walking again.

Red rolled her eyes. “Yeah, sure. I don't get cold easily.” That was a lie. She was always cold. It was one of the reasons Granny had made the riding cloak for her. A few moments of silence passed. “...So who told you that? That I...y'know...never say no?”

He chuckled. “Who doesn't? That's what you say isn't it? 'Anything that can fit in my basket'? Sounds to me like there's an awful lot that fits in Little Red's little basket.” Henri smirked and winked.

Anna flushed. “You know, you're only my bodyguard because the Queen says. I don't need one. Keep up talk like that and you and Janie here are gonna get real friendly real quick.” She tapped the pommel of her sword.
“Janie?” Henri raised an eyebrow. “Of all the epic swords with epic, powerful names like Excalibur and such...and you named your sword Janie?”

Red looked ruffled. “And what's wrong with Janie?”

“Oh nothing. It's a fine name...for a milkmaid. Maybe a shepherdess,” Henri added as an afterthought, glancing sideways at his diminutive companion, who looked back suspiciously. Janie was her Granny's name, though he didn't need to know that, and until she'd gotten too old she had been a shepherdess.

“So? What's your point?”

“Well...what if you do something? Get famous? They'd write songs and stories about you, and you don't want them saying you slayed some evil goblin king or something with Janie, do you?”

Red scoffed. “Me? Do something to get famous? Yeah right. I just wanna earn myself a living, that's it. Whatever's in my basket and what it's used for is none of my business.”

“Hey, what is in your basket, anyway?”

“None of your business, either.”

“It's a chalice, isn't it?”

Red stopped again, grip tightening on her sword. “You know, you're awfully nosy for a body guard.”

Her companion's eyes flickered nervously from her face to her sword then back again. He seemed to be assessing the situation. “Secret police,” he reminded her, speaking slowly. “It's my job to be nosy.” A few tense moments passed before the girl relaxed her grip and began again.

“You're more than a little iffy, you know,” she told him bluntly.

This wasn't working. At this rate Henri would never earn her trust in time.

TWO

Well...this hadn't gone as planned. Peter would be furious. How would he know where she was? It wasn't like he had told her where to go, all he'd said was “find this” so she had. Or, at least, Goldilocks had tried.

Susan Turner had run away from home at the age of nine. Peter had found her in a park, crying because she was cold and hungry. Though she was only a mile from home she didn't want to go back because her parents were talking about a betrothal. When she explained to Peter that betrothal was what happened when you were old enough to be committed to a marriage, but still had to become a grown-up before you could get married, well that tore it for her new friend. Something had to be done!

The Lost Boys had started calling her Goldilocks, or more often Goldi, because Susan was a boring name and she wasn't boring at all. She had forgotten that, though, along with her parents or even what a parent was. It had been several hundred years, as time passes in her world, since she had left and all this time she had remained nine years old. Or rather, she had until some years ago.
It hadn't been noticeable at first. But when the first signs of puberty had reared its ugly head, both in Goldi and the boys, panic had struck the Lost Boys' camp. The old bag had meant it!

The Lost Boys nipped into their old world from time to time, stealing both things they needed and things they wanted. Goldi in particular had quite the magpie eye, and had on one occasion stolen a ring from a gypsy woman. The gypsy had been more than fair: if the girl gave it right back, she and the rest of Peter's gang could go in peace. If not, all of their worst fears would be realized.

Well of course Goldi didn't let that scare her! That old hag didn't even know they were from a different world, and they all agreed that they didn't believe in gypsy curses. And besides, Peter wasn't afraid of anything! Having come to an agreement with the other boys, Goldi had blown a very loud raspberry and flown away.

That was nine years ago. Goldilocks knew because that was when she had started to keep track of the passing of seasons in Neverland. It turned out that there was one thing Peter Pan—and all of the Lost Boys—had feared and it was coming true. They had returned to the gypsy, begging her to remove the curse, but what's done was done. Time was moving forward in Neverland once more. Peter Pan and the Lost Boys were growing up.

It was several months ago that Peter had heard of an orb with the power to control time. He had been sneaking about the Jolly Roger and overheard a few sailors talking about it; they were scared, too, for they were much closer to being old than the Lost Boys. Slightly—the only one among them who knew how to read—had been sent out to find information on this orb. The White Kingdom had all the best libraries, after all, and was just across the water.
Sure enough, he found information on the Orb of Tyryn. Long ago, before the land had been divided into the three Greater Kingdoms by three brothers, their father had ruled over all. Still, the king desired more power and so commanded his chief sorcerer, Tyryn, to create an object that would allow him to rule over time as well.

Of course, the sorcerer Tyryn didn't need any gifts of foresight to be able to see all of this going terribly wrong, but who was he to say no to a king? He'd lose his head! So Tyryn created the orb, but to ensure one man wouldn't have complete rule over the world the orb would not allow the king to turn the clock forward, nor to interfere with past events, but only observe. The king had been angry until he figured out that this orb could also stop time, and the great advantage that would give him over his enemies. Tyryn claimed he could not figure out how to create an all-powerful object, and so the king learned to be satisfied with this.

As we all know, absolute power corrupts absolutely. For Slightly sitting in a dusty library, the story of the king's inevitable fall and his sons' division of the kingdom into three was boring and predictable. The only mention of the orb's fate was that Tyryn had hidden it so no one brother could become more powerful than the other two. All of the books placed it in the then-neutral Tulgey Wood, a good portion of which had been annexed by the Kingdom of Hearts by a previous queen in a bid for Wonderland. The land remained with the kingdom even after the liberation of Wonderland some decades ago by the High Empress Alice.

That was how Goldi had wound up here. In a cage. She was Peter's head sneak-thief, so when he'd gotten word that the legendary orb was guarded by a trio of were-bears she had been the natural choice. Goldilocks never questioned Peter; she was by far the most loyal and trusted of his Lost Boys (Peter had long ago decided that there was no such thing as a Lost Girl) and would follow him without a single question into the darkest and most dangerous deep parts of the world. It was because of this blind faith in her hero, that he would never send her into true danger, that Goldilocks had asked all of zero questions about were-bears and therefore hadn't known how keen their senses were nor that her dagger couldn't even touch them.

“Oh...he's gonna kill me!” Goldi lamented aloud, pacing her little cage. “If I don't get eaten first.”

“I fear the second a more likely scenario, my dear.”

Goldi gasped and looked up. “Hook!”

Captain James Hook bowed with a flourish. “Goldilocks,” he said smoothly. “Now, I know Peter Pan occasionally...thins out his boys when they start showing signs of growing up, but you?” His hook reached through the bars to push her chin up and force her to look at him. “You're far too pretty. It's no wonder you're his favorite.” His voice slid smoothly on the air, almost tempting Goldi to be flattered.

“I'm not pretty!” she protested stubbornly, stepping away. “That's for—”

“Grown-ups?” Hook smiled charmingly. “Yes...and how much you've grown up, my dear. I remember when you first came to Neverland, and now look at you.” His eyes, the color of forget-me-nots, flicked over her while he made a concerted effort not to linger in indecent places. The girl had indeed grown into a very fine young woman...

“What do you want?” Goldi had grown suspicious of compliments and sly remarks. “Why are you here?”

“Same as you, my dear: the Orb of Tyryn. Why else?”

“So you know it's here?” Goldi already knew the answer though. He wouldn't still be here and about to make her an offer if he knew where the orb was.

“Alas! This is where I need your help. You still have the imagination of a child, though certainly not the body of one.” Again his eyes flickered over her. “Help me, dearest Goldilocks. We'll find the orb together and make everything right in Neverland again.”

She knew he would weasel out of it somehow, but she also needed to get out of this cage in the dark cellar. Sighing, she nodded.

“Fine. Share and share alike. In return for what, exactly? To get out of the cage, I mean. What could a pirate want from a Lost Boy, hm?”

Hook smiled like the charming crocodile he was. “Simple, my dear. Just a kiss. Right here.” He tapped his cheek with the crook of his hook.

Goldi flushed in both anger and embarrassment. Oh he was cruel! Hook knew very well kissing had been outlawed three years ago among the Lost Boys! Peter and Goldi had had a very near miss one night after a flight over the starlit mermaid lagoon. He had pulled away at the last moment and flown off without a word, leaving a very hurt and confused Goldilocks sitting in a tree top alone. He had announced that night that kissing was too grown-up and anyone caught doing it would be banished. Goldi had been so hurt she hadn't spoken to him for a week; it was maddening. He was maddening!

“But Peter—!”

“Peter doesn't have to know a thing, my dear. Just you and me.” His hook was cold against her cheek.

“I'll...I'll be banished. Or killed! It's you[I], after all.”

“Very well.” Hook shrugged and pulled away. “I had ah...[I]taken care of the bears. They should pull themselves back together in a few hours. That should be enough time for me to find the Orb or a clue to its whereabouts and leave you to be eaten. It's a shame...such a lovely young woman...” He began to turn away. Eaten or banished, he didn't care; the girl had been as much of a thorn in his side as Peter Pan himself and the captain wanted this particular thorn plucked.

“Wait!” Goldi reached out and grabbed the arm of his jacket. “Okay fine, I'll do it. But you have to swear not to tell Peter or Tink.”

“My dear Goldilocks, you have my word,” Captain Hook swore, “as a pirate and a gentleman.” They shook on it.

Goldi took a deep breath and closed her eyes, leaning toward the bars. At the last minute, however, Hook turned his cheek and caught her squarely on the lips. Her arms flailed out to her sides as her brain froze for a moment in panic until she had the good sense to pull away and try to slap him, only to find her wrist caught in his firm right-handed grip.

“I don't think so, missy.”

Goldi yanked her arm out of his grip, flushing furiously. Her lips tingled in a rather pleasant way and some sort of squirmy thing seemed to have taken up residence in her chest; the same squirmy thing that had been there for a while that woke up whenever Peter smiled at her. She assumed that was part of the curse. Although as a girl she would have been disgusted by Hook's trickery, as a woman she was having a hard time denying to herself that she wanted to do it again.

“Kay now lemme out,” she demanded sullenly, wiping her mouth on the back of her hand and adding in a 'dirty pirate!' for good measure.

“As you wish.” James Hook could hardly contain his triumphant smirk. Goldilocks was by far the most loyal of the Lost Boys; she would tell on herself in no time, banishment or death by bear or Bandersnatch, that was one less Lost Boy he had to trouble with. And one of the peskier ones, too.

In no time the lock had been picked and Goldi sprung. The pair tore apart the cellar before moving upstairs. The site that greeted them made Goldi's stomach turn and she kept herself from vomiting only to save face in front of Hook, leaving a noxious taste in her mouth.

“You did this?” The Lost Boy looked disgusted.

“Oh, it's not like they were innocent little woodland creatures or anything!” snapped hook. “Besides, look. They're already coming to. We've got a few hours at most, so hurry.”

Indeed, the muscle in the neck of the smallest bear was already beginning to knit together. The rest of the bears' bodies were a mess of fur and flesh and blood. Lots and lots of blood. But Hook was in a hurry, and his sword wasn't silver; only his hook could pierce the hides of the lycan bears, and that certainly wasn't enough to sever a head from a body.

The unlikely pair split up with Captain Hook taking the bedrooms while Goldilocks took the sitting room and kitchen. Hook emerged from the last room with the largest bed, sweaty and looking like he was indeed having a very bad day. Goldi, who had made it to the kitchen at this point, smirked.

“Tolja,” she said simply. “I was in the big wardrobe when they came back. Sniffed me out right away.”

“Doesn't help you took the time to sample their breakfast,” he snapped back, nodding at the dirty wooden spoon by the porridge pot on the stove.

“Hey, a four-hour flight and a three-day walk would make you hungry, too!” Goldi returned. “Oh wait, you wouldn't know. You can't fly.”

“Why you little—!”

Hook started toward her, hook raised and flashing coldly while his hand reached for his sword. Goldi went for her knife, but it had been taken by the bears. Thinking quickly, she seized a honey pot from the counter and hurled it at his head. The pirate ducked and the pot shattered against the wall. Honey oozed down the wall, along with a parchment encased in resin.

Disclaimer: The following properties are not mine: Peter Pan, Grimm's Fairy Tales, The Wizard of Oz, The Chronicles of Narnia, Alice's Adventures in Wonderland. Peter Pan, The Wizard of Oz, and Alice in Wonderland are properties of the J.M. Barrie, L. Frank Baum, and Lewis Carroll estates, respectively, and their copyright has expired in the United States. The Chronicles of Narnia is property of the C.S. Lewis estate and its copyright has not expired in the United States. Grimm's Fairy Tales are public domain. I use references to the above without permission from each work's respective estate, publisher, or author as this is not an officially published work. I intend to get the permissions I need before this work is officially published.