Varena, now cleverly masquerading as Tillison, led the Princess through the back passageway. It exited to the right of where the performance was in full swing. She had brought her to watch, although she wasn't sure Adora could actually see through her veil. The Princess reminded her of a creepy porcelain doll, all lace and paint. Varena hated to lie to her old friend, who so abhorred lying herself, but she was a bandit now. Certain things were just part and parcel with the lifestyle.
Besides, she reminded herself, this was what was best for Adora. Certainly her friend would forgive her trespass. Something malicious was afoot. The Phantom knew Adora was in love with Grimholt, and she didn't believe for a red hot moment that poncy Count Cinbran had done anything to sway her heart.
The boss, Sylven, however, seemed convinced of it. He had admitted this to Varena, after Hersillia and Nolan left, the rest of the camp began to celebrate and prepare. She had found Sylven alone, resting by the fire. His eyes were closed, but snapped open when she approached. The panicked look on his face dissipated as he recognized her.
"Hiding?" He asked in a low, tired voice.
"From Hersillia?" Varena responded thoughtfully. "Perhaps, a bit. I am not prepared for her to know about... my circumstances. That is vanity on my part, but I cannot give up my pride."
"Pride." He repeated the word softly, more to himself than her. "You're embarrassed?"
"Not exactly. It is not that I regret my choices." From somewhere across the bandit camp Echo burst out in laughter. The sound of it made her smile. "I have said many incorrect things in my life, Grimholt. I was wrong about bandits, at least this bunch. I think people can not so easily be painted into a box. I do not want, however, to disappoint Hersillia."
"Sometimes the people we love most disappoint us." "Do you speak of the Princess?"
He winced. "I should rather not."
"When there is more time, after this, then I would like to speak with Hersillia. If I could explain my actions, I know she would understand. I hope she would."
"She too is working against Nicobar," he said with a shrug. The movement was meant to be casual, but it looked to be a strain. "She desires what is best for..."
"Adora? Sylven, what-"
"I'm warning you, Varena, I don't want to talk about her."
"Then why are you allowing this plan to come to fruition? It is so dangerous and uncertain. It could put the camp at great risk."
"I can not stop them. I tried. Hurricane is too smitten with the Lady to question her plan. The rest think this is what I want. Hopefully they abscond before the Sheriff catches them. Let it be upon their heads if they go through all this trouble for nothing, I say."
The fire crackled, filling the silence between them. Sylven stared miserably at it, looking gaunt and weak. Just what had the Sheriff done to him? Or was this simply what a truly broken heart looked like? Varena stood and tossed another log onto it, sending a burst of sparks upward.
"She loves you, Boss. Have you considered-?"
"I think you should leave."
She did leave, feeling rather miserable herself. She wasn't alone in her suspicions, and they had to keep each other motivated without their leader burning brightly. If they could reunite the star-crossed lovers, they were certain that Grimholt would return.
"Right this way, Your Majesty," said Varena, doing her best to deepen her voice. Guiding the princess by her elbow, she tugged her back behind the make shift performance area. It was draped with a curtain to create a backdrop. "We're going backstage until the performance is done."
"Backstage? What about the aisle?"
"Oh. Well, you see, that is... that is because the performers will have to leave down the aisle, you see. Prince Nicobar thought this would be easier for everyone."
The princess remained silent, but the Phantom could feel the disappointment radiating from her. Her ward had spoken rather infrequently on the topic of her marriage, for she was quite shy on the matter, but what little Varena knew did not align with what Nicobar had arranged. There was an unabashed air of spectacle to the whole event, not a solemn and joyful celebration of shared love.
"Wait here, my lady," she said, leaving the princess to stand behind the makeshift curtain. The play was being enacted on the other side.
Steps one and two of their plan were now complete. Step three involved Hersillia and Hurricane. For now they needed to wait for the signal from Nolan to complete step four. The anxious little guard had slipped away from the ceremony, taking the rest of Hersillia's transportation pocket spells, to ready Redmarrow's crew. When he gave his signal, they would finish up their little performance. Adora and Grimholt would set sail with the pirates, and onto happily ever after, and far, far away from Nicobar and the Sheriff.
Varena peered through a slit in the curtain. Gristle, impossible to miss, was hamming it up for the crowd. The audience was in surprisingly good spirits, but Nicobar was enjoying it the most. From his balcony he roared with laughter. The phantom gave a sharp little whistle, just once.
"Oi, what's that I hear?" He asked, comically cupping his hand to his ear at the alert. "Why that sounds like a little birdie what's bringin' me materials."
"What a lovely set of clothes we shall make our clever Prince!" Echo carried on as Gristle slipped behind the curtain, casually wheeling the figure in the wheeled chair with him. Grimholt.
It was hard not to feel awful for her new boss as he came around the corner. His body was slumped in the chair, with one of Hersillia's heavy books on his lap.
Gristle pulled down the bandanna that obscured Grimholt's face with a swift yank. The outlaw glared at his large companion, then at Varena. When his eyes found Adora, oblivious and obscured by her veil, the anger on his face saddened.
"No," he said softly, voice rough. "This was a mistake. Let us give up this charade and-"
"Sylven?" Adora asked in a small, surprised voice. She fumbled with the veil before throwing
it over her head. "What in God's name is going on?"
"Shhh, little lady," hushed Gristle. "Echo's got a big mouth, I'll grant ya', but not big 'nuff to cover too much yellin'."
"What are you all doing here?" She looked around with fear, like a caged animal. "Where is the Sheriff?"
"He's not here," Varena reassured, placing her hands on the princess's shoulders. "But we are. We are here to save you, Adora."
"Save me?"
"From what?" Asked Grimholt bitterly. "Or from whom, rather? Her Count charming?"
"From Nasty Nicobar, that's who!" Said Gristle, giving him a dirty look. "Now listen 'ere, kids, I have to get back out there. Phantom, keep yer ear out for Nolan." Gristle slipped back around the curtain.
"Varena," said Adora, pulling the Phantom into a long overdue embrace. The princess's eyes were wet. "Thank goodness you're alright. I've been so worried. Where have you been?"
"There will be time for us to reconnect soon. Right now, you and Grimholt need one another. I must keep watch."
"No. No, no no! Varena, no take me back! If Nicobar discovers this..." A sob in Adora's throat at the thought of what he might do to them. "There will be a terrible price to pay."
Grimholt laughed unexpectedly, bitterly. It was an awful sound. "What did I tell you, Varena? She doesn't want to be rescued."
"You do not understand," said Adora, with a hurt look to Grimholt. He ignored it, pretending to read the tome in his lap. "You mustleave. The Prince has been experimenting upon the Sheriff to make him more powerful. We are in grave danger."
"Your majesty," said Varena, taking the princess by her shoulder. "I promise we won't let anything happen. You and the boss belong together."
"The boss?" Asked Adora, eyes wide. "Are you working with the outlaws?"
"Also with Lady Hersillia, but that is a long story. I need to get into position to receive Nolan's signal."
"Don't leave me here with her," muttered Grimholt angrily. "Let's give up this farce and go."
Varena frowned. She had not been expecting such an unhappy reunion. There wasn't time to linger and, despite Grimholt's protests, she left. For now, at least, the audience was enjoying the performance and Nicobar was like a fat cat enjoying a bow of cream, perfectly sated.
"Are you alright, Sylven?" Asked Adora gently but firm. "If you are strong enough to stand, you must go."
"Trust me, Princess," Grimholt spat out her title, "I am not interested in disrupting your
wedding. I am here against my will." "What happened to you?" "Heartbreak."
"Now is not the time for your dramatics, Sylven. If you're hurt then I-"
"Grimholt. It's bloody Grimholt! Are you stupid, or just thick?"
Adora braced herself against each harsh word. She wanted nothing more than for him to stand up, take her up in his arms, and whisk her away as easily as Varena had made it seem. It was not so simple, and it was not his fault.
Nicobar had never intended for her to choose her own spouse, but had been forced to provide the facade of the suitor events at the behest of the people. Adora had been secretly, and foolishly, holding out hope that the Prince might have a change of heart and follow the law of the land. They were family, after all, and she wanted to believe that there was some small part of him that cared for her as she did for him.
He had been acting increasingly suspiciously, but it was not until the day of the fire on the docks that she had finally learned why. It was the day that Nicobar had finalized his contracts. He and Cinbran had, up until that point, an agreement. Upon returning to the castle the evening, she had been pulled into Nicobar's and had been told in no uncertain terms that she was indeed betrothed to the Count and that she was forbidden from seeing Grimholt again.
He showed her a complicated magical diagram, and explained that he was going to use the Sheriff to harness the power of raw, wild magic. There was a hunger in his gaze that Adora had never seen before, and it made her frightened. Then he stabbed a dagger into map of the kingdom, plunging it deep into the forest.
He did not know the precise location of the outlaw camp, but he swore that he would use the Sheriff and his magic to raze the entire forest and everyone in it if Adora were to choose anyone but Count Cinbran.
Her knees gave out beneath her, and she collapsed onto the floor as Nicobar and the Sheriff loomed over her. After much weeping and pleading, Nicobar had promised that if she publicly declared her marriage to Count Cinbran, then no one would be hurt. He would, however, be using his magic to keep her in line.
He anticipated that Grimholt would try to speak to her, and thus he would station the Sheriff in her room to ensure that she tell him nothing but farewell. Adora was completely alone, unable to tell even Lady Hersillia, whose safety and standing in the court the Prince had also threatened.
Instead, she had quietly resigned herself to her fate. Though she fell asleep every night, her prayer beads clutched tightly and her pillow damp with tears. Her marriage was a worthy trade if it meant that everyone would be safe.
Now that was all for naught, because the outlaws had foolishly and recklessly decided to here. When Nicobar caught wind, or the Sheriff appeared, an even more terrible fate awaited them.
On top of it all, Sylven was, rightfully, angry with her. Feeling hopeless and cornered at all sides, Adora decided that there was no longer any reason to withhold the truth. At least, whatever happened, she could have a clear conscious.
"Sylven," she began weakly. He did not look at her. "I did not mean any of those horrible things that I said to you."
"A likely story."
"I know that you could never forgive me, but I was not lying when I said that I did so to protect you. Nicobar is using the storm like a weapon, and the Sheriff the catalyst. Everyone, all of Stormwatch, is in grave danger if I do not follow the Prince's commands."
Grimholt was quiet, but the room was filled with uproarious laughter. Something quite funny was happening on the other side of the curtain.
When he spoke at last, his voice was tired, hurt. There was a quality of hesitancy to it, something she had not once heard from him. It was impressed upon her heart once more just how much he had been made to suffer by her hands.
"You were forced into this? You do not love the Count?"
"No," it was almost a sob. "No, you silly boy. I do not love him. I was promised to him by Nicobar. How could I ever love Cinbran? I have only ever loved you."
"Do you still see me as that weak, pathetic, silly little boy you once knew?"
Tentatively she outstretched a hand, reaching for his face. He watched her like a beaten dog, prepared for the strike. Instead, she touched cupped his rough cheek. He leaned ever so slightly into her palm.
"I see a noble man, not by birth but earned through character. I see a strong and just leader. I see the man I love, but I know that little boy I adored is still very much alive inside you."
"The Sheriff captured me that night. He... took something from me. I don't feel like even half the man you describe. You would still do best to marry Count Cinbran. He could give you a better life than I could."
His hand, cool and weak, held hers against his rough cheek. "If I asked you to run away with me, you'd tell me no again, wouldn't you?"
"Not because I do not love you, Sylven." There were tears in her eyes now.
"I know, my darling. Now I know." With clear effort, he turned to face her. Pulling off the hat and scarf she saw his face properly for the first time in what felt like years. He looked exhausted, almost aged. Still, his eyes shined like they always had, with mischief and the feeling she had never before been able to place: adoration. "Would you at least grace me with one last kiss, before I have to give you up forever?"
Adora brushed the tears from her face and nodded, unable to speak. She dropped to her knees and embraced the man she loved, and gingerly brought his face close until their lips met. His rough hand caressed hers. One final kiss goodbye.
Then, suddenly, there was a cracking noise, followed by Echo yelling, and the curtain being ripped down! The lovers parted, still embracing now in alarm, exposed to the entire chapel.