Private Tales Amongst the Night Blooms

The road to Ivereth was a vein of dust and moonlight, winding between the forested hills where night gathered thick and heavy. Lanterns swung from the corners of a single carriage, their glow casting pools of light that didn’t quite reach the tree line. That’s where they waited. Dark shapes swallowed by shadow, the faint shimmer of metal betraying their readiness.. The horses’ hooves clopped steadily against the dirt, untroubled until one shied, nostrils flaring, as if it sensed something unseen.

A soft whistle cut through the night, and in an instant the plan snapped into motion. A spooked horse, a loosened wheel bolt, a rope drawn taut across the path, and by the time the driver and the guard even realised something was wrong, the carriage lurched to a halt.

Another whistle answered from the shadows to the left. Then to the right. The sound echoed in quick succession until the forest itself seemed to breathe around the panicking beasts.

From between the trees stepped the outlaws. Six of them, with faces covered with scarves, eyes glinting beneath the hoods of dark forest cloaks. They moved like shadows made solid,, efficient. One carried a bow already strung; another, twin axes that glimmered dully in the half-light. A woman with a scar across her cheek twirled a hooked knife in her hand as she circled to the rear of the carriage.

The man who walked at the centre of it all wore no crown, no emblem, but he carried the kind of confidence that made the air bend around him. A scarf hid his mouth and nose, and his hood shadowed everything else, but even half-hidden, there was an unmistakable, easy arrogance about him; shoulders relaxed, his gloved hands twirling one of the many throwing blades that hung at his belt.

“Evenin’,” he drawled, voice warm with mock courtesy as he came to stand before the trembling driver. “Long night for travel, isn’t it? Dangerous roads, this time of year.”

The driver swallowed hard, his gaze darting to the shadows that flanked him on every side. “W–we’re bound for the city,” he stammered. “Royal delivery. You’ve no idea who you’re-”

“Oh, I’ve every idea,” the man interrupted lightly, stepping closer until the torchlight caught the curve of his grin beneath the scarf. “That’s why I’m here.”

He leaned one hand against the side of the carriage, peering up at its ornate crest, polished bright against the dark.

“King’s gold,” he said with a quirk of his brow, a muscle feathering in his jaw. “You lot never tire of hauling it past starving villages, do you?”

He tapped the hilt of one of his daggers against the wood, a rhythmic, thoughtful sound. The others waited, silent and alert. One of the rebels cracked open the door. "Oh shit.." he said, his soft brown eyes settling on the woman inside. "Uh, boss, I don't think--"

“Here’s what’s going to happen,” Thorn went on to the driver, his tone light but his eyes unwavering. “You’ll hand over whatever treasure the King deems too precious to share with his people. You’ll go home to your wife, have your supper, tell her the road was blocked. Everyone wins. I don’t have to stain this road with blood, and you get to keep breathing.”

"Boss..." the man at the carriage door insisted before another rebel peered over his shoulder..

"Thorn.." he called over.

The driver opened his mouth as if to protest, but stopped when the dagger Thorn had been idly spinning flashed and buried itself in the wooden frame beside his knee with surgical precision.

The outlaw smiled beneath the scarf, his voice dropping low. “Trust me, friend, you don’t want to see what happens when I miss.”

"Thorn!!" several of them said in unison, and he turned.

"What?!" he said, striding to the carriage, brows shooting into his hairline as he saw what all the fuss was about. "The fuck is this?" he said, ignoring the woman to peer around the carriage, seeing no gold. "This was supposed to be precious cargo." he growled.

"Shouldn't precious cargo be a little more... protected?.." the woman with the scarred face said.

At that, Thorn held up his hand to silence them, for in the distance came the sound of hooves, several horses riding this way. He glared at the woman as though she'd jinxed them, and turned his attention back to the 'cargo', dragging a hand down his face. She was a pretty thing, high born, wealthy. Her clothes were fine, and no doubt her jewellery would fetch a decent price, not to mention the ransom for her return. He'd never resorted to kidnap, but ...

"Fuck it. Just take her." he commanded, "Here-" he added, throwing a hessian bag at one of the men. "For her head."

After a shared look of confusion, two men reached for her with a quiet 'sorry miss' as the bag was pulled over her head.

Olydia

“For fucks sake, what are you two doing?!”

Triss’s voice was a rasp of irritation, sharp enough to slice through the twins’ flailing panic. She shoved past them, her heavy boots hitting the dirt with purpose. The firelight caught on the pale scar that ran jaggedly through her blind eye, making it glimmer like milked glass. Her good eye, a venomous green, fixed on the girl in the carriage, narrowing with a wolfish growl.

“There’s an easy way or a hard way, lady,” she said, her voice all gravel and impatience as she drew her short sword, the metal glinting in the dark. “You’re not what we wanted from this evening either, but there’s no need for anyone to be getting hurt.”

A young man who was perched on the edge of the treeline, bow half drawn, frowned at them. His voice was hushed. “We're kidnapping people now?” he asked, appalled as he caught sight of the woman in the carriage. "She's scared, look at her!"

Ren gave him a look of mock offense. “ Fuck sake, Felix, you can offer her a cup of tea and a cuddle later..”

“Better than you offering her a bag,” the boy muttered back with a huff.

Jacks, still rubbing his chest with a scowl, snorted. “Scared my arse.. I was trying to be gentlemanly by helping her out of the carriage."

Triss snorted. “Since when were you a gentleman?”

“Since never,” he wheezed. “But I’ll learn if it keeps me from being kicked again.”

From the shadows came another voice, deeper, rougher, touched with arrogance. “Enough chatter. If you lot can't do it I'll do it myself..”

Thorn stepped back into view, scarf still covering half his face, blades gleaming faintly at his belt. He took in the sight of the woman, her defiant posture, her icy gaze catching the moonlight like shards of frost. For a moment, he only stared.

Then his mouth curved under the scarf as he held out a hand to her “You can come quietly, or I can throw you over my shoulder. Either way, darlin', you're coming with us now."

Another whistle split the air, this one shriller, warning of the galloping hooves thundering closer down the road.

“Time to go!” Ansel barked.

Rafe’s dark green eyes creased as his grin split his face beneath the scarf, the kind of grin that made threat taste like a dare. He let the moment hang, relishing it, then called back to his crew with theatrical cheer. “Hear that? She’ll have the King hunt us down.”

A couple of them snorted.

“What’s new?” Ren and Jacks chorused together, as if the absurdity of it all were the funniest thing in the world.

Rafe gave Olydia a lazy wink, fingers still extended in that courteous, ridiculous offer of help, and when she chose violence he only sighed as if put out by the inconvenience. Her foot kicked out and he caught it in a firm, sure grip that didn’t bruise but did stop her dead. Lucian’s voice rose behind him, sharp and urgent. “We haven’t got time for this, leave her, Thorn, we need to move!”

Rafe huffed, glancing down the road to the sound of hooves, and shook his head. “No. We’re taking her with us. She can tell us all about her father and the King.” He let the last words fall like a promise and then, gentler than his tone suggested, made his move.

He didn’t wrestle or try anything brutish. Instead he hooked his left arm under Olydia’s knees while his right arm slid around the small of her back, a practiced, almost tender lift.. He pulled, levering her out of the narrow carriage like a bundle of wet linen, dragging her against his chest and clamping his hand over her mouth as he hauled her bodily toward the treeline.

“Comfortable?” he murmured, and the grin softened into something almost fond. Then, efficient as the rest of the crew, Ren and Jacks moved to steady her legs and arms while Triss stepped up with a rope, knots already in her hands.

Bran gave a low curse as he drew a length of cloth to wrap the woman's mouth. "Sorry lass.. It's only temporary." he assured quietly.

“Time,” Lucian cut, voice steel. Rafe slung her over one broad shoulder, and moved silently into the darkness along with the others.

The driver, at Rafe’s nod, cracked his whip and urged the empty coach toward the city as fast as the horses would travel. He would escort an empty carriage to the King.

Olydia’s fists kept coming, small, furious hammers against broad leather. They stung, but they weren’t doing any real damage. He let the last hit land, grunted, and then, annoyed, simply dropped her into the blanket of pine needles.

The Lady's guards passed by several feet away, and they watched them thunder past without so much as a glance toward the forest where they hid.

Once they'd passed, Rafe crouched until his face was level with hers, the moonlight through the trees dappled on his face. His green eyes burned. “Look, lady,” he said, low and deliberate. “I tried to do this the easy way, but you refused. Comply, and you'll be back where you're supposed to be before you know it. We're thieves, not rapers and murderers.”

“Kidnappers too, apparently…” Felix muttered, half to himself. Jacks shoved him and grinned, Ren barked a laugh. The shove turned into a brief scuffle, all elbows and curses until Triss stepped between them with a blade flick and a very pointed look that shut the boys up faster than any reprimand.

Rafe pinched the bridge of his nose with a huff. He held up one gloved finger like a man counting tax money. “Three options. One - I remove the bonds from your feet, and you walk quietly and without fuss.” A pause. He held up a second finger. “Two - I carry you with-out-fuss.” He let that hang for a moment. “And three.” He raised the third finger with a small, dangerous smirk under his scarf. “If you are unwilling to take advantage of options one or two, I knock you out and fucking drag you.”

“Saints, Thorn,” Lucian groaned, rubbing at his face where worry had set lines.
"What?" Felix blinked. Triss held him back, and the twins shared a hesitant look.

“What'll it be, Princess?” Rafe asked, the last word a slow drawl.

Rafe’s eyes never left her as Ren tugged the cloth away and the gag fell loose. The moonlight caught the green in them and made them look almost feral as he watched her choose. For a long, lazy heartbeat he simply admired the way she held herself; angry, proud, perfectly furious, and the corner of his mouth curved into a grin.

“Ah, darlin’, you wish you could find out just what these dirty hands can do.” Lucian snorted beside him and shook his head in exasperation.

“All right then,” Rafe went on, amusement sharpening into mock severity as he held up a chastising finger to her. “Be a good girl and walk nice. No trying to run, or I’ll hunt you down like a prize pig and have you hog-tied.” he warned, and booped the tip of her nose with his fingertip before standing abruptly and striding off.

"Get her up."

Felix was quick to crouch and work at the knots around her feet while Jacks hovered awkwardly, then helped her upright when the ropes came loose. “Here, take my arm, milady. It’s dark out here,” Felix murmured, gentle as ever.

Jacks couldn’t resist. “Oh, how gallant,” he mocked, offering his own arm to his brother with a bow; Ren took it with a ridiculous little curtsy and a grin plastered on his face as he fanned at it with his hand.

“Never mind them,” Felix said briskly, as if scolding children.

“Alright, let’s go,” Triss urged, cutting through the banter, and the little band fell into motion.

Felix slowed his pace a little so she wouldn’t trip on the uneven ground, his arm steady and warm where it looped through hers. The others’ carried on ahead, other than Triss and Lucian who lagged behind, ensuring their tracks were cleared.

When she spoke of her betrothal, his eyes widened and he nearly stumbled over a root. “You’re… betrothed to Prince Abel?” he blurted out before he could stop himself. A grimace flickered over his face as though he’d said something dangerous. “I—I see. Well, that is… interesting.”

He cleared his throat, glancing up the trail where Rafe and the twins were mere silhouettes in the torchlight. “I suppose he’ll send word very soon,” he said finally, a nervous little laugh escaping him. “It’s, uh… it’s our first kidnapping, so I’m not all that sure how this works. But I promise you, milady, he isn’t as bad as he seems.” His voice softened at that. “I don’t think he’d really hurt you.”

Felix sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as if ashamed. “We heard there was something valuable being transported, that’s all. We were expecting gold or jewels, not… well, you.” His lips twisted into a sheepish smile, and he tugged his scarf down to reveal his boyish face, smooth, freckled, far too gentle for a thief.

“I’m Felix,” he said, a touch shy now that their eyes met properly. “Can I ask your name, milady?” He ducked slightly to help guide her around a patch of gnarled roots and brambles, his touch careful. “Seems only fair I know who I’m leading into the dark, don’t you think?”

Felix’s step faltered when she named her House, his head turning a little too quickly to look at her.

“The Duskwoods of Ivertown?..” he echoed, voice hushed with something like awe, or worry. “Saints preserve us… He’s really stepped in it this time.”

He recalled his father talking about them.. Wealthy indeed. He wasn't sure if Rafe would be pleased by this news or not, given she was to marry his brother. He had only met her a short while ago and even Felix would feel bad handing her over to Abel and his father.

He tried to cover his nerves with a small smile, "Well it's nice to meet you, Lady Olydia.. Apologies again for the unfortunate circumstances, heh.." he added awkwardly.

“Bag her!” someone barked from the front.

Felix jolted, tightening his hold on her arm instinctively as he called back, “But.. it’s dark, she can barely see as it is, and she doesn't know this forest, I doubt she has any idea where we-"

“Just do it, Felix.” Rafe’s voice rose. Rougher. Final.

A hessian sack hit Felix in the chest. Jacks didn’t look thrilled to be the one tossing it, either.

Felix swallowed hard. The apology was already in his eyes as he turned back to her. “I’m… so sorry, milady.. We just… we can’t have you knowin’ the way,” he murmured, voice soft with regret. “If anyone finds us, it’ll be our heads. And I’d rather not lose mine..”

He raised the sack hesitantly, slow and gentle as if approaching a frightened doe. “May I?.. I’ll keep hold of you the whole way. You won’t fall. You have my word.” he promised, his brown eyes full of guilt and pleading for her understanding.

Felix let out a breath when she offered to put the bag on herself. It wasn’t relief exactly, more a soft, grateful astonishment.

“Aye… of course, Milady,” he murmured, placing the sack back into her hands as though it were made of glass instead of rough burlap. “Thank you.”

When she drew it over her head and complained about the smell, he winced, rubbing at the back of his neck.
“Heh… sorry. It was meant for coin or jewels, not pretty faces…”

Her hand reached blindly toward him and he caught it immediately, folding her arm back into the crook of his elbow and steadying her with a firm, reassuring grip.

“I’ve got you, Milady,” he said gently. “I won’t let you fall.” he promised, and he kept his word, all the way through the forest.

He guided her softly around roots and hidden dips in the earth, pausing now and then to untangle thorns from her skirts with quiet, murmured apologies. He spoke to her as they went in quiet, calming conversation , trying to soothe the tension he felt radiating from her.

Eventually, she would hear the thunder of water long before she felt the cool mist of it on her skin. As they neared the falls, Felix leaned close so she could hear him above the roar.

“Nearly there. Just a bit more, mind your step there.”

He guided her down a narrow path carved behind the sheet of crashing water, the sound overwhelming at first before suddenly softening as they slipped into a cavern beyond.

The noise changed. Laughter. Tankards clanking. Dozens of voices, all warm and rowdy. Felix led her down a final stretch of stone steps before he stopped her.

“Alright, Milady… let’s get this off of you.” He lifted the bag from her head with the same gentle care, and Thornhold unfolded around her.

A vast cavern shaped by nature and time, lit with glowing lanterns hanging from twisted branches woven into walkways and balconies. Rope bridges criss-crossed overhead like a web.

The waterfall was still visible through an arched opening, its spray scattering rainbow droplets wherever firelight caught it.

Below, a tavern seemed built straight into the stone and roots, long tables crowded with people, roaring fire pits, and laughter swelling as Thorn and the others were greeted back. A few lifted their heads at the sight of Olydia, curious murmurs rising as word spread that their “treasure” had turned out to be a noblewoman.

Above, children peeked from a balcony of interwoven branches, wide eyed and whispering.

Felix offered her a soft smile, gentle in the chaos. “Welcome to Thornhold…”

He carefully untied the bindings at her wrists, rubbing lightly at the reddened skin in apology before releasing her. “Come,” he urged gently. “You can warm up by the fire, and get some supper.. You’re safe here.”