Chapter Twelve

 

Upon reclaiming the kingdom, Guinevere Pendragon promises to make Midas (no last name given) King of Camelot, with the understanding that Avalon Pendragon is to remain, now and forevermore, heir to the throne.  He may rule by Guinevere Pendragon’s side for as long as he wishes, provided that he does not wantonly oppress, torture, or enslave their subjects.

Clause 5- Oversight of the Kingdom

 

Midas sighed and grudgingly began participating in the meeting. “If you compensate your employees more than anyone else, you’re most likely going to get better employees than anyone else.”  He agreed, because Gwen was one-hundred percent correct.  “If you want the best, you have to pay for it.”

Hell, that could’ve been his family motto.  …If he’d had a family, anyway.

Gwen smiled, pleased that Midas had sided with her, and then turned back to the others.  “See?  It’s really very logical, when you think about it.”

The Walrus scowled as best he could, given the cumbersome size of his gigantic tusks.  “Maybe it’s time we stop ignoring the elephant in the room.”  He snapped.

Guinevere looked over at a certain flying pachyderm, who was presently chained in the corner.  “That’s a fair point.  Since you brought it up, I don’t think it’s right to ransom that poor elephant.  I mean, aside from big ears, he seems pretty much…”  She trailed off in apparent surprise, finally noticing that everyone was staring at her.  “Oh, you mean me?”

“They mean you.”  Midas assured her, his golden gaze fixed on the Walrus.  The jackass now had his full attention.  “Tell me…  What would you like to discuss regarding my wife?”

His quiet tone had half the table cringing.

The Walrus glanced around for support, but no one else was willing to risk Midas’ wrath.  Gwen might think he was “gentle and kind,” but everybody else knew better.  They were all suddenly fascinated with the ceiling, walls, and floor.

The Walrus scowled at the others and pressed on himself.  “Well, this is supposed to be a gathering of Bad folks and she isn’t Bad.”

Gwen gasped as if she’d been maligned.  “I may have been born Good, but I’m an outlaw now.”  She insisted hotly.  “Actions are what matters, not biology.  I’m almost-Bad!”

The actual Bad folk couldn’t contain their skepticism.

Gwen glowered at them, irritated by their lack of enthusiasm for her villainy.

“Regardless of whether she was born Good or Bad, the queen wants to be here.”  Midas’ voice stayed mild, but his fingers drummed on the tabletop in clear warning.  “Of course, I’m a reasonable man, Walrus.  Would you like to step outside and discuss the situation privately?  I’m sure I can convince you to see things her way.”

“No!”  The Walrus’s beady eyes went to Midas’ gloved hand, correctly interpreting it as a threat.  “No, Kingpin.  She should stay.  Of course your woman…”

“My wife.”

“Your wife should stay!  I’m already convinced.”

“So stop talking.”

The Walrus shut his mouth so fast, it was a wonder his tusks didn’t stab right through his lip.

Gwen shot Midas a censuring look.  “Intimidating your coworkers is not going to help your future business ventures.”  She whispered.

“They’re not my coworkers.  They’re imbeciles I meet with once a year, because it’s easier than killing them outright.  Right now, I’m weighing the convenience factor against how damn annoying they are.”

“Really, you can’t blame them for questioning my presence.”

“Yes, I can.”

She disregarded that and smiled around the table.  “Obviously, most of you recognize me and you’re wondering what I can contribute to your evil consortium.  I was born Good.  I’m not denying that.  Until last year, my life was spearheading social reforms and taking my little girl to ballet class.”  She paused.  “And I was married to King Arthur.  That must be hard to forget.  We had one of those celebrity couple names and everything.  ‘Arthevere.’”

Midas made a face at the ridiculous moniker.

“I wouldn’t blame you for distrusting me, a bit.”  Gwen continued.  “But, I am a criminal, just like you.  In fact, I’m the one the Scarecrow hates the most.  I have a bigger price on my head than anyone in this room.  So it seems to me that,” she shrugged, “I’m actually the biggest Badass here.”

Midas smiled at that outrageous claim.  He couldn’t help it.  God, she just enchanted him with her crazy ideas and gingerbread scent and Good-girly-ness.

“Now the Good folk have kept you down for years, even though you outnumber them.” Gwen went on, oblivious to his helpless adoration.

“Because they have all the power.”  The Walrus whined.

“You give them the power.”  Gwen retorted.  “But now we’re going to take it back.  This is my kingdom.  If you help me defeat the Scarecrow, I will help you have an equal place in Camelot.”

“Why should we trust you?”  Dower demanded.  “The wizards hate Bad folk and you need their approval to be queen.  They’ll never support you, if you support us.”

That was a fair point.

“I’ll deal with the wizards.  In the meantime, I need the Bad folk to do everything they can to cause chaos for the Scarecrow and his regime.  Show people what Camelot will be like with him in charge.”  Gwen nodded intently.  “And we also need to stop him from going to other lands for support.  Especially the Four Kingdoms.  We need to cut him off, so it’s just us and him.  Then we beat him.”

Midas had to admit it was a pretty good plan.

“You have the numbers to cause chaos.  I have the crown to get us legitimacy with the Wizards Congress.  Midas has the gold to finance everything.”  Gwen held up three fingers, ticking off her points as she spoke.  “Soldiers, power, money.  That’s what wins a war and we already possess it.”

At least half the villains present looked intrigued.

Hamelin was not among them.  “No matter what you do, the Good folk aren’t going to let Midas be king, though.”

“Midas already is the king.  I am the rightful ruler of Camelot and Midas is my husband.  The Good folk can’t change that.”

No one would fucking change that.  Not while Midas was still breathing.  He didn’t give a damn about any crown, but he would live and die as Guinevere’s husband.

“Now, we’re going to save the kingdom from that bird-filled bastard and you’re going to help us.” Gwen glanced at Midas.  “Right?”

“Right.”

Miss Muffet made a frustrated sound.  Spiders crept along her skin in a never-ending blanket of spindly legs.  “You’re really going to wage war on the Scarecrow for this girl, Midas?”

“Yes.”

Her lips tightened at the simple reply.  “You’re usually smarter than this, you know.”

People kept telling him that.  In reality, the bargain he’d made with Gwen was the most brilliant deal any man had ever struck in the history of the world.  What other stable boy from Celliwig had married a beautiful queen who called him gallant?  What other tawdry feral animal knew the absolute contentment of listening to a little girl talk about rocking-horseflies at dinner?  Midas now owned the most beautiful, valuable things in the kingdom.  His success should be plain for everyone to see.

He gave Miss Muffet a smirk.  “I’m just suddenly passionate about politics.”

Miss Muffet looked pissed at his nonchalant attitude.  “Use your head.  The one with the actual brain in it.  Jill had a point earlier.  How is this plan going to be good for business?”

Midas shrugged.  “Weapon sales will be up.”  He wasn’t particularly concerned over lost revenue.  Overthrowing a kingdom was a small price to have Guinevere beside him.  You had to pay to have the best.

“You’re turning into an idiot.”

“Midas is brilliant!”  Gwen interjected, apparently furious that Miss Muffet had just insulted him.  “Yes, he needs to focus more on details.  And granted, he threatens violence a bit too much in order to cover his gentle heart.  And okay, he can be a little trusting…”

“‘Trusting and gentle?’”  Dower interjected incredulously.  “Midas?”  He looked at Midas.  “You?”

Midas endeavored to look trusting and gentle.

“…But he’s built a successful empire, all on his own.”  Gwen continued, ignoring the interruption.  “None of us could do what he has.” She jabbed a fingertip against the table to emphasize her words. “The man is a genius and you all know it.”

Shockingly, no one argued that part.

Except Midas…  “I’m not a genius.”  He argued, pitching his voice so only she could hear.  He didn’t mind her thinking he was “kind and gentle,” but “genius” was too much even for him.  It made him feel guilty to trick her.  “I stopped going to school in the fourth grade and it really wasn’t much of a school before that.”

“That just makes your accomplishments even more impressive.”

Midas blinked at her convoluted reasoning.  “But…”

Gwen talked right over his protest, getting back to her speech.  “Now, Midas and I are equal partners in this.  And you guys need to help us make this plan happen.  Otherwise, I will kill all of you and we can start over with some other, smarter Round Table.”

Midas gave up his half-hearted effort to make her see his true nature.  It had been a stupid, self-defeating impulse.  He didn’t know right from wrong anyway, so why even bother to try and figure it out?  Why not just count his lucky stars that such a bright woman was so very, very blind about him?  Feeling smug about his good fortune, he leaned back in his chair and just basked in his wife.

Miss Muffet crossed her arms over her chest and scowled at Midas’ smitten expression.  “Look, Kingpin, it can be disconcerting to find your True Love.  I get it.  It’s bound to make anyone a little nutty.  But, day-to-day, True Loves are more trouble than they’re worth, especially when they’re Good.  Trust me.  I keep mine all safe and sound, cocooned on a spider web, because of his bitching.”  She shook her head in exasperation.  “Marriage is really pretty… lackluster.”

Midas was getting damn tired of hearing that opinion.

“We’re not True Loves.”  Gwen put in quickly.  “We’re business partners.  In fact this whole arrangement was my idea.”

Twenty-two villains scoffed in unison.  Midas couldn’t blame them.  Gwen might not believe in True Love, but any Baddie could see why Midas was so sanguine about this plan and it had nothing to do with “business.”  Still, the very last thing he wanted was for Gwen to understand the depth of their connection.  As soon as she knew the power she held, she’d be gone.

His eyes narrowed at the others and no one dared to press the issue.

“It’s true!”  Gwen insisted.  “Midas, isn’t it true that I’m the one who proposed?”

“Yes.  You drove quite a hard bargain, too.”

Dower somehow kept his mouth shut, but he rolled his eyes so hard he probably popped a blood vessel.

“Whatever you two have planned, I don’t get why we should be a part of it.”  Hamelin interjected with unexpected insight.  “What’s in it for us?  Why the hell would we help Midas takeover Camelot?  He’ll probably execute us all by the end of the fiscal year.”

Midas lifted a shoulder.  If not sooner.

“Because, the Scarecrow is coming for you.”  Gwen looked around.  “That’s why you all need to listen to us.  He has plans for the Bad folk of this kingdom.  Plans that include brainwashing and servitude and death.  If we don’t stand together, we’ll swing alone.  I promise you that.  He’ll pick us off, one at a time.”

“Brainwashing?”  The Walrus repeated.  “How does he plan to do that?”

“Dark Science.  He has a formula that will target Bad folk.”  She paused.  “He wants to turn you Good.”

The Round Table attendees exchanged sideways glances, murmuring amongst themselves.

Midas’ eyebrows soared.  For one timeless moment hope surged through him, blocking out rational thought.  Dark Science could turn him Good?  Guinevere would never accept a villain for a True Love.  He knew that. The woman wanted someone kind and trusting, for fuck’s sake.  But, if there was a way to undo Badness --If he could somehow become Good-- then maybe she would stay with him.  If there was even a chance of success, he’d take it regardless of the cost.

He would pay anything to have her.

“W-w-w-will the formula w-w-w-work?”  K-k-k-Katy demanded and Midas had a feeling she was thinking the same impossible thoughts.

“No.”  Gwen shook her head and Midas’ heart sank.  “Neither magic nor science can alter that.  Not really.  It can just cover up who we are, and twist it, and pollute it.”

“There are people who will tell you Bad folk are already polluted.”  Midas said, struggling with his disappointment.  “People who will tell you this formula is a blessing.  That it’s right to change us.”

“Good and Bad mean nothing.”  Gwen snapped.  “I told you, it’s our actions and choices that determine who we are, not some blood test.  My daughter is Bad and she is perfect, just the way she is.  I would never want her changed.  No mother would.”

She was very wrong about that.  Midas’ mother would have fed him a goddamn death formula, if she thought it would change him into someone socially acceptable.  Only Gwen would battle to keep her Bad child Bad.  Only Gwen had that pure of a heart.

Midas had no idea how he’d survived so long without this woman.

“This formula will make you slaves.”  She continued passionately.  “It will erase who you are and fill you up with who the Scarecrow wants you to be.  And --trust me-- you do not want to be who he wants you to be.  He is going to scoop out your freewill and personalities until you mindlessly serve him.”

“Damn.”  Dower muttered.  “That’s going to really suck.”

“Eighteen months ago, Galahad and I saw what they were doing and we destroyed the lab.”  She sighed, clearly ready to canonize her “best friend.”  “He was somehow caught and then banished for it.  It broke my heart, but he was so brave.”

Midas’ teeth ground with such force they were nearly pulverized into dust.

Miss Muffet shot him an arch look, also noticing Gwen’s enamored tone.  “See?  She can’t feel what you do. It’s not in Good folk’s programming.”

The glare he sent her probably scorched a few spiders dead.

Gwen seemed oblivious to the byplay.  “I thought we’d gotten rid of all of the formula, but some survived and the Scarecrow is obsessed with it.  He rebuilt the lab.  So far, he can only administer the formula in shots, but soon he’ll be able to make it airborne.  It will infect all of Camelot.”

“Which is why you need your father’s wand?”  Midas guessed.

“Yes!  The wand is the one thing that can destroy Dark Science, once and for all.  The magic in it is unsurpassed.  Without it, you and Avalon and everyone at this table could be gone.”

No one argued with her.  In fact, Midas had never seen the Round Table so focused.  Five minutes of talking and his wife was now firmly in charge of the most ruthless criminals in the land.

The woman truly was a queen.

The door opened and waiters marched in all carrying lunch trays.

“Finally!”  The Walrus clapped his flippers together as a silver cloche was placed in front of everybody.  Maybe he was the one who’d hired the caterers.  “What are we having?”

“Pie.”  One of the waiters told him with a professional smile.  He was some kind of elf, dressed in a crisp white uniform.  “It’s our specialty.”  In unison, all the waiters raised the lids from the trays to reveal the neatly baked shells.

Gwen’s eyebrows compressed as she looked down at hers.

“Pie?”  The Walrus repeated, skeptically.  “For lunch?”

“It’s a pot pie.”  The waiter called, heading for the door with his co-workers.  They all seemed Good, which was odd.  Servants were usually Bad.  “Enjoy!”

Gwen went pale.

Midas picked up his fork.  He hated to admit it, but the pie did look delicious.  Before he could break through the top of the crust, though, the silver cloche was slammed back over his tray like a guillotine.  Midas nearly lost three of his gloved fingers.  He sat back in surprise, his eyes cutting over to Gwen, who’d just stopped him from eating.  In fact, she had her palm flattened on the lid, just in case he tried to open it back up again.

“You don’t like pot pie?”  He hazarded calmly.  Given the woman’s unpredictability, it was as good a guess as any.

“I love pie.  I bake pie.  I know pie.  And this is not a pot pie.”

“The waiter was mistaken?”

“The waiter was lying.”  Her voice was absolutely sure.

Well, shit.  Midas put his fork down.  He wasn’t sure what was happening, but he completely believed her warning.  “Everybody stop.”  He ordered.  “Don’t eat anything.  Something’s wrong.”  He looked around the table.  “Who ordered this food?  Where did it come from?”

“The waiters brought it, dumbass.”  Dower cut into the golden-brown crust with a derisive sniff, refusing to stop his meal, because wolves always refused to listen to reason.  “What, did you go blind or something?  They were just…?  The wolf didn’t get a chance to finish his snarking.

As soon as the blade of his knife cut into the pie, the blackbirds attacked.