Chapter Three

 

The Contract can be voided for any of the following reasons: Abuse, lies, excessive drinking and/or drug use, unseemly behavior around Avalon, general incompatibility, misuse of magic, breaking any clauses in the Contract, and/or a judgement by one or both parties that the agreement is no longer in the best interest of them, their dependents, or the Kingdom of Camelot for any reason whatsoever, even if it is not specifically listed above.

It can also be terminated in case of the discovery of Midas’ True Love.

Clause 11- Reasons for Nullification and/or Termination of Marriage

 

It only took Gwen about thirty minutes to realize that the Kingpin of Camelot was a terrible businessman.

Like really terrible.

For a professional gangster, he was astonishingly, terrifyingly, hopelessly trusting.  Gwen had sat across from him in appalled silence, as he signed whatever she put in front of him.  Midas hadn’t seemed interested in negotiating anything.  He impatiently accepted whatever deal she proposed, initialing all the spots she indicated on the Contract.

“You should be more careful about what you sign.”  She’d informed him for the tenth time, hoping he listened to her damn good advice.  “I could be trying to rip you off, you know.”

“I doubt you’d be repeatedly warning me of the possibility, if that was your plan.”  He’d murmured and she had the feeling he was amused by her lecturing.

It would’ve annoyed Gwen that he somehow thought she was being the silly one, except… Shit.  It was really, really hard to be annoyed with someone so really, really attractive.

Midas wasn’t handsome.  With golden-colored eyes framed with thick lashes and dark hair that brushed his wide shoulders, he was too damn fearsome to ever be considered something so beige and innocuous.  Nothing could break this man.  He seemed big enough and strong enough and confident enough to fight monsters with his bare hands.

…Hands that were covered in black leather gloves.

Every horrible rumor she’d ever heard about his curse had flickered through her mind, but they did nothing to dampen his appeal.  The pheromones Midas gave off clouded her better judgement.

“You’re very big and scary.”  Gwen had continued, clearing her throat and trying to focus.  “I’m not arguing that.  And it’s clearly gotten you this far in your business.  People are intimidated by your reputation.”  She’d regarded him gravely.  “But that won’t always be enough.  One day, someone will see that it’s all just… exaggeration.  Like I have.”

“Uh-huh.”  His gaze had stayed on the Contract, reading each word.

“I’m certainly not telling you to change.  I would hate for you to become cynical and hardened, like me.  It’s wonderful that you’ve retained your innocence.”

Midas’ eyes had flicked up to her, like that heartfelt assurance confused him.  Then he’d honest-to-God looked over his shoulder to see if she was talking to someone else.

“But, this is a dangerous world.”  She’d pressed on, wanting to help him.  “You only see the best in people.  You think fairness and justice will always win.  Galahad is the same way.”

“Is he?”  The words were quiet.

“Oh yes.  And look where it got him?  Banished!”  It still hurt her to think about it.  “You’re an honorable man, Midas, but so many others aren’t. You simply can’t be so trusting.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”  He’d returned to reading through the long list of reasons they could end the Contract.

Gwen had sighed in dismay.  He just wasn’t taking the situation seriously.  She’d mentally readjusted her plans to deal with the fact that she would have to protect Midas from himself.  It would be difficult, but it was her responsibility to keep him safe, now.

One black brow arched as he’d scanned the Contract’s Termination Clause.  “What if one of us finds their True Love?”  He’d asked conversationally.  “That’s not explicitly noted here as a reason to break up.”

“You can’t be serious.”

He’d glanced at her again, his golden eyes thoughtful.  They were the exact color of old coins.  “You don’t think that’s a possibility?”

“No, I don’t.”  She’d said frankly.  “True Love is a children’s story.”

Of course, Midas hadn’t believed that, either.  Gwen wasn’t sure how she could read him so well, since he didn’t say anything or even shift his expression, but she’d sensed his bone-deep conviction that some perfect girl was going to show up and sweep him off his feet.  She’d made her voice as gentle as possible so she didn’t crush his dreams, even as she tried to get him to see the truth.  The man clearly possessed a sensitive soul under the fearsome exterior.

“Midas, be practical.  Do you really think you’ll just look up one day and see Miss Right walking towards you?”

“Yes.”

He had a tendency to answer questions with a simple “yes” or “no.”  If you wanted him to elaborate or explain, you had to be a little pushy.  Luckily, Gwen was a lot pushy.

“Really?”  She’d pushed.  “Not a doubt in your mind?”

“No.”  His face had stayed serious and certain.  “I absolutely believe that I have a True Love and that she’ll find me.”

His utter assurance that some mythical woman was coming to save him from their marriage had annoyed Gwen.  “Fine.”  She’d reluctantly added his “True Love” nonsense to Clause 11- “Reasons for Nullification and/or Termination of Marriage,” so it was explicit. What did it matter?  On the off chance he wasn’t crazy, they might as well prepare for that eventuality, too.  Contracts were all that stood between order and chaos.  “If you find your one-and-only, you can back out of our deal immediately.  Satisfied?”

“I’m sure that will come in handy.”  His eyes returned to the fine print.

For some reason, as Gwen watched him read every word on every page, she hadn’t been able to let the True Love thing go.  Midas might be terminally romantic, but he was also smart.  He’d signed whatever she asked, but he made sure he understood every clause.  Most of his ideas and comments had been incredibly astute.  She’d wanted him to see reason about this nonsense.

“As you can see, Clause 7 allows us to lead separate lives, just as I promised.”  She’d pointed to Clause 7- “Separate Lives and Other Relationships,” watched him closely.  “So, that’s another obstacle out of your way.  You can date and sleep with whomever you like.  Total freedom.  I won’t even be involved.”

“I don’t mind if you’re involved.”  Midas had murmured.

He wanted to --what?-- discuss his mistresses with her?  Not even Arthur had done that.  “Sure.”  Gwen had said anyway and her fingers had drummed on his desktop.  “If you want to talk to me about your love life, that’s… great.  I’m hoping we can be friends.  Maybe I can give you some advice.”

Like, for instance, don’t discuss your slutty girlfriends with your wife.  Not that she was his real wife, of course.  It was just a business deal.

“But, if you leave me, you won’t be King of Camelot, anymore.”  She’d heard herself tell him.  “That will probably put a kink in your big plans.  I mean are you really going to give up the crown for True Love?”

“I will when she asks me to.”  He’d shrugged like it was inevitable.  “And she will.”

Gwen’s teeth had ground together at his blind devotion to some imaginary girl.  How could such a bright man be so frivolous?

The whole concept of True Love was a terrible idea.  Why would you want to leave so much to blind fate?  Much better to approach things logically.  All she’d ever wanted was to find the Right Man.  Someone she connected with.  Someone who understood her.  Someone compatible.  Someone… right.  Mystio-physiological screenings for True Love didn’t matter to Gwen.  She didn’t care about destiny or epic romance or blood tests that proved a magical bond.  She just wanted someone:

1)      She could trust

2)     Who loved Avalon

3)      Who wanted to be with her as much as she wanted to be with him

Her father had assured her she’d find such a man, but Gwen wasn’t so sure. Why was such a simple, practical list so difficult to fulfill?

“Well, I don’t believe in True Love.”  She’d reiterated. “People say I’m heartless, but I’m really just rational.”

“Rationally speaking, you don’t have to believe in oxygen… but you still need to breathe it.”  He’d said obliquely and initialed Clause 11- “Reasons for Nullification and/or Termination of Marriage,” just like he had all the others.

In the end, he’d gone along with every single thing she’d wanted.  His size and reputation might fool everyone else into thinking he was a tough businessman, but nothing could be farther from the truth.  It was a miracle people didn’t take advantage of him night and day, given his kindhearted temperament.  Gwen had a feeling he would have signed over a kidney, if she’d pushed hard enough.

She’d let out a long breath, watching Midas sign his name along the bottom of the Contract.  Done.  Gwen had snatched it up before he could change his mind, scrawling her own name next to his massive signature.

It was actually done!

Instantly, her mood had soared and she’d sent him a shining smile.  Midas was legally hers and she was on her way to getting her kingdom back.

“I did it.”  She’d told him, blurting out the words before she considered them. That was typical for Gwen.  Whatever was in her head, somehow came out of her mouth.

“Almost.”  He’d stood up, not looking nearly as relieved as she felt.  “We still need to get through the wedding.”

And that was how Gwen found herself getting married again.  Only this time, there were no magical doves dropping rainbow-colored rice from the sky as a fancy-dressed wizard conducted the ceremony.  Instead there was a dozing officiant, paid an obscene amount of money by Midas, who was still wearing his pajamas, stank of whiskey, and slurred his way through half the vows.

There was no music from the world-renown Bremen Band or fifty-six attendants from the most prosperous families in Camelot, either.  Instead there was Avalon asleep on the couch, a gryphon who looked like he disapproved of the world in general and really disapproved of Gwen in particular, and whatever random guests from his ruined party that Midas could corral as witnesses.

And there was certainly no handsome prince promising to become her husband ‘til death do they part and move her into his elegant castle.  Instead, there was a criminal --a mobster, by all accounts-- who favored incredibly tacky suits over shining armor.

No matter how you looked at it, this wedding was far more enjoyable than her last one.

“I do.”  Midas’ voice was dark and certain as agreed to marry her.

They were still standing in his office, where atrocious taste apparently went to die.  Whoever decorated it had spared no expense to make it the tackiest room outside of a brothel. Gwen wasn’t sure why she didn’t hate the garish space, but, for some reason, it seemed… comfortable.  Far more so than the refined, impersonal, beige furnishings of Arthur’s palace.  No one who lived there was allowed to move so much as a chair without a committee reviewing the exact placement of the pillows.

Midas’ house, for all its overblown madness, was a home.

Still, Gwen couldn’t help but notice there wasn’t a single candid photograph or family portrait anywhere in sight.  That seemed strange.  Did he have no relatives?  No one who he spent holidays with or sent him pictures of their kids?  Apparently not.  Maybe that was why Midas was desperately trying to fill his mansion with things.  Maybe he had no people to share his life with and so he made do with objects.

“Um --hold on-- I don’t seem to…  We seemed to have missed the part with the… uhhhh…”  The wizard took ten minutes to say a simple sentence with all his rambling and stuttering.  Since he wasn’t sealed in the Emerald City with the others of his kind, she could only imagine he was at the bottom rungs of the profession.  She’d never met him and she knew all the great wizards in Camelot.  “Your last name?”  He blinked at Midas.  “Do you have a last name?”

“No.”

“No?”

“No.”

Gwen spared Midas a quick look.  His lack of a last name had been a pain in the ass when she drafted the Contract and she was still irritated by it.  “Why don’t you have a last name?”  She demanded, when it became obvious he only planned to give that one syllable reply.  “Yes,” and “no” seemed to be his favorite things to say.  Sometimes he’d mutter “fucking hell” under his breath, but only used it when he was feeling positively verbose.

“I don’t have a last name, because last names are a way to link you to a family and I don’t have a family.”  He kept his attention on the wizard.  “Continue.”

The wizard gulped.  “Okay, um…  Do you have uhhhhh?” He made a vague gesture with his hand, trying to recall the word in his tired (and probably drunk) state.  “The things that go on the fingers…?  Rings!”  It came to him with a triumphant exclamation.  “Do you have rings?”

“We can skip that part.”  Gwen told him before Midas could answer.  There was no time for jewelry shopping, for God’s sake.  She needed to get this over with, before her groom backed out.  Having the signed Contract relieved quite a bit of her worry, but it was always a good idea to make sure all the loose ends were tied up in a deal.  “Just keep going.”

Midas glanced down at her hand, where Arthur’s ring still gleamed, and didn’t say a word.

“Okay.”  The wizard gave his head a shake, trying to stay awake, and peered down at his scroll.  “Do you, Guinevere Pendragon,” he stressed her last name, “take this man…?”  He stopped, like a new thought had just occurred to him.  “Hey, Guinevere Pendragon is the… um… queen’s name.”  He tried to focus on Gwen, his face scrunching up in concentration.  “You kind of --a little bit, kind of-- look like her, too.”

“Oh for Lyrssa’s sake…”  Trystan, the gryphon, muttered randomly the sidelines.  “Is this really what passes for a mating ceremony among your people, Midas?  No wonder this kingdom is in ruins.  The words you use to pledge yourselves are so hollow that you need to echo them from the mouths of idiots.”

Gwen slanted him a glare.  The gryphon glared back.  Clearly, the two of them were not destined to be best friends.  Or second best friends, as Avalon liked to say.

Trystan was a mountain of a man, with the face of a fallen angel and tawny-colored hair that he wore tied back in a long braid.  He was, objectively speaking, beautiful.  But, it was hard to even look at his stunning features, because her eyes kept going to the damaged wings that fell behind his shoulders like a shroud.  She wasn’t sure what had caused the vicious scars that crisscrossed the white feathers, but brutal fighting seemed a good guess.

“We didn’t have time to write our own vows.”  She snapped in annoyance.

“Possibly, because you just met.”  Trystan agreed sarcastically.  How did someone born without emotions manage to deliver sarcasm so well?  “Isn’t there a part of this hollow ritual when onlookers can object?  Because I object to this fucking terrible idea.”

Midas rolled his eyes, like he was used to his guard’s insubordination.  “Shut up or leave.”

“Yeah, you should leave, Trystan.”  Dower put in.  “I can’t believe he let you be Best Man instead of me.  The Kingpin is having enough problems keeping this shit-show going without you swearing your way through his girl’s vows.”  He glanced at Midas.  “Hey, is she a hostage or something?  Is that how you talked her into this?”

“You shut up, too.”  Gwen ordered.

Dower was a wolf, a species that was barely above gryphons on the socially acceptable scale.  In his human form, Dower was a burly, bearded man in a sleeveless shirt and camouflaged cargo pants.  Gwen wasn’t sure why he’d come to Midas’ party or hung around to attend the ceremony.  Maybe he just wanted the free champagne.  He was sprawled in a zebra-striped chair, his leg tossed up over one arm, drinking from a gaudy crystal flute.

Midas shot Dower a warning look from the corner of his eye.  “I agree with Guinevere.  Now would be a good time for you to forever hold your peace.”  He said quietly and then focused on Trystan.  “Ha’na.”  He snapped.  Whatever the word meant, it sounded important.

“It is my duty to protect you, even from yourself.”  Trystan’s voice wasn’t the least bit repentant.  It sounded like it came from another age, where warriors fought with claws and clubs and teeth for what they believed in.  “Ha’na or no, allowing yourself to be strong-armed into this madness is a fucking terrible idea.”

“Do you honestly think I’d allow myself to be strong-armed by Gwen or anyone else?”

“Yes.”  Trystan intoned.

Gwen silently agreed.  She’d completely strong-armed Midas into marriage.  In a way, it was nice that someone else saw that.  Even if it did put her plan into jeopardy, she liked the idea that Trystan was looking out for her innocent groom.  No one else was.

Thankfully, though, Midas ignored Trystan’s logic.  He said something in the gryphons’ language, which sounded inflexible.

“She doesn’t know that.”  Trystan retorted in the common tongue.  “The woman will use you for what she needs and then discard you.  All her kind are the same.”

Midas’ jaw ticked.  “Anyone who isn’t happy with my wedding or my bride,” he told the room at large, in an ominously calm voice, “can leave now.”  His head snapped around as the wizard gratefully started for the door.  “Except you.  Keep going with the vows.”

“I won’t hurt Midas.”  Gwen told Trystan in a grudging tone.  “In fact, the Contract guarantees that I’ll keep him safe.”  She glanced up at Midas.  “Doesn’t it say that?”

“Yes.  Clause 6, I believe.  ‘Partnership Responsibilities of Guinevere Pendragon.’”

Gwen smiled, impressed with his memory.

“Your honorless people sign many contracts and write many laws.”  Trystan intoned.  “Then they break them all and do as they wish.”

“I have never broken a contract in my life!”  Gwen objected hotly.

God, the man was such a jerk.  She was trying to be nice, but he was making it super hard not to hate him.

Except --damn it!-- the gryphon stood between the rest of the villains in the room and Avalon.  When he’d walked in, Midas had said, “Guard the child above all else” and Trystan had taken position directly in front of her.  No one and nothing was getting past that man to harm Avi.  There wasn’t a doubt in Gwen’s mind.  She was having a hard time hating anyone who protected her poor trusting groom and her baby.

No matter how annoying the big, winged jerk was.

“Is this wedding some kind of plan to takeover Camelot?”  Dower asked Midas, still trying to figure it out.  “Because, I hate this dump!”  He smiled, which was really just a baring of teeth.  “I’ll help ya ask Letty for soldiers, if you make me Best Man.  She loves me.  Her and that pussy Marrok are controlling the Enchanted Forest, now.  There’s an ass-ton of Bad folk living there.  I doubt any of them like the Scarecrow.  Maybe you could hire ‘em.”

There was only one “Letty” in charge of the Enchanted Forest and she was the most famous Villains’ Rights crusader in existence.  Gwen whirled around to face Midas, distracted from not hating Trystan.  “You know Scarlett Riding-Wolf?”

“Of course.  The woman is annoyingly involved in everything these days.”

“Well, I don’t know her.  Not personally.  But she’s doing amazing work.”  Guinevere’s beloved daughter was Bad.  Anyone working to ensure that Avalon lived in a world where she was treated fairly was a hero in Gwen’s eyes.  “I want Camelot to have equality for Bad folk, just like the Four Kingdoms.  That’s my number one priority as queen.”

Midas shot her a skeptical look.  “Your number one priority should be fiscal solvency.  Arthur racked up more debts than any king in history, according to the palace budget reports.”

“You read the palace budget reports?” Not even Gwen read those endless spreadsheets, if she could help it.  Why bother?  Even when she read them, she didn’t understand the numbers.

“I read everything that impacts my life and business.”  Midas said mildly.  “And believe me, your books are a mess.”

She believed him.  “They’re our books, now.  You’re the king, so you can deal with the budget.  Problem solved.  I’ll focus on Villains’ Rights and the environment and things that matter.  You do the boring stuff.”

Midas’ eyebrows climbed.

“Well, it’s not boring stuff to you, right?”  She defended.  “You like money.  Have fun sorting it all out.  I was always better at contracts than math.”

“You’re the king now?”  Trystan snorted.  “Lyrssa help us all.”

“Stop trying to make it all about you, Midas.”  Dower objected, as if Midas had somehow taken his spotlight.  “We all know that do-Gooding do-Gooder, Scarlett.”  He gestured around the room to the other villains.  “Hell, most of us were in the WUB Club together.” He paused for Gwen’s benefit.  “That’s the Wicked, Ugly and Bad Mental Health Treatment Center and Maximum Security Prison.”

“I know.”  She kept her eyes on Midas.  “I remember the night you escaped.”

It was the same night Arthur died.

“Some of us escaped more awesomely than others.  I got out with the Tuesday share circle.”  Dower bragged.  “I heard Midas nearly got blasted with the sleeping potion gas.  Had to crawl out through the garbage chute.”

That was clearly not a memory Midas treasured.  His eyes narrowed at Dower, who smirked.

“Nothing blew up.”  Miss Muffet, the Arachnid Queen, corrected in a long-suffering tone.  She would have been pretty, if it wasn’t for the millions of spiders running along her arms and neck.  The whole army of them shifted and skittered every time she moved.  It was just… unsanitary.  Midas should really have his home exterminated after she left.  “Letty took a chainsaw to the cafeteria.  That’s what got us out.”

“It was dragons.”  Hansel and Gretel, the conjoined twins, interjected in perfect unison.  Everything they said was in perfect unison.  It was even creepier than their creepy little lederhosen.

“That was when Trevelyan escaped.  He was the only dragon in the WUB Club.  Like one of the only dragons anywhere really.  Why are the hottest species always the ones closest to extinction?”  Miss Muffet adopted a wistful, reminiscing expression.  “Goddamn, he was hot.  I would have traded half my spiders to get his evil ass into bed.”

Dower banged a fist against the arm of his fuzzy chair.  “All of this is bullshit!  I know how the escape went down.  I was there when Marrok set the bombs.  In fact, I set most of them.  All you assholes should be thanking me.”

Predictably enough that triggered another argument.

“If we need soldiers for this war, I can find them.”  Midas assured Gwen, over the shouting and death threats and spider bites.

Gwen smiled, touched that he’d said “we.”  “Thank you, but I can win without a battle.”

Trystan scoffed at that idea, even though no one had asked for his opinion.  “Seeking a bloodless victory inevitably leads to more blood.  Hit your enemies hard and without remorse, woman.  Kill enough of their people to take away their will to fight and end the war quickly.”

Dower shot him a “holy shit!” kind of squint and stopped lobbying to become Best Man.

Gwen disregarded Trystan’s homicidal attitude, still grinning at Midas.  “So you escaped prison using a garbage chute?”  That was very clever.  “I’m surprised you fit.  How did you even know where it led?”

“I didn’t.”

She tilted her head.  “You went down a garbage chute, without knowing if it led to an incinerator or something?  You could have been killed.”

Trystan grunted.

“It was a possibility.”  Midas allowed.  “At the time, though, I had nothing much to live for, anyway.”  He hesitated, staring down at her.  “I would be more careful, now.  I would make sure I escaped and survived, so I could protect you and the child.”

Gwen studied him for a long moment and then looked back to their officiant, who appeared to have nodded off.  “I do.”  She decided.

Midas blinked, like he couldn’t believe that he’d really just heard what he’d heard.

“Huh?”  The wizard jerked awake.  “What?”

“I do.”  Gwen repeated.  “I’ll marry him.”

“Yes, but I haven’t finished with the… uh… the vows, so…”

Midas cut him off, his voice more animated than she’d ever heard it. “She already said, ‘I do.’  Finish this.  Now.”

“Ummm…”

“Now.”

The wizard’s eyes went wide at the bellow, his words coming out in a blurred rush.  “Youhavetokissthebride.”

Midas’ brows slammed together.  “What?”

“Legally, you --um-- have to kiss the bride for the --um-- names to appear on the --um-- scroll.  It’s just how it…ya know… works.”

Midas hesitated.  “Oh.”  He looked uncertain for the first time since she’d met him.  “Isn’t there another way to…?”

“We can do it.”  Gwen interrupted, turning to face Midas.  Nothing was going to stop this wedding, certainly not her groom’s shyness.  “Come on.  It’ll be simple.”  Then, because she was a take-charge person by nature, she stood on tiptoe and firmly pressed her lips against his.

Midas froze.

It was as if he was afraid to do anything, for fear of scaring her away.  Which was ridiculous.  Gwen wasn’t a timid soul.  It took a hell of a lot to frighten her from her path.  Still, she had really only intended to give him a meaningless peck, so they could move on.  But it quickly occurred to her that kissing this man was kind of… pleasant.  So pleasant, in fact, that her strategy of a half-second graze of their lips vanished in a cloud of surprise and excitement.

Hot damn!  For the first time in her life, kissing was living up to the hype.

Still on tiptoe, Gwen caught hold of his lapel for balance and began to enjoy herself.  Her mouth opened against his and Midas surrendered.  His head dipped lower, his lips parting for hers.  He tasted like expensive wine.  Deep and complicated and intoxicating.  Dazzled, Gwen drank him in.  It was so much better than she’d even imagined. She’d be a total idiot to stop now.

And Midas wasn’t exactly pushing her away.  He made a low sound somewhere between a groan, a curse, and a snarl of lust.  Whatever you wanted to call it, it turned her insides to liquid.  He was enjoying the kiss, too!  That observation emboldened her.  Gwen leaned against him, holding nothing back.  Previously, only her strapping stable boy fantasies had made her this hot.  She felt a hand settle at the small of her back, clenching the fabric of her dress.  Fisting it tight.  Pulling her closer.  God, he was so strong and kind and appealing and…

“Shit, man, how much longer is this going to last?”  Dower demanded.  “It’s getting socially awkward here.”

He might as well of dumped cold water on Gwen’s head.  What was she doing?  Oh God!  What was she doing?  There were other people in the room!  Her cheeks went bright red and she scrambled back from Midas.  Holy hell!  Nothing like that had ever happened to her before.  She hadn’t known it could happen.

“Sorry.”  She blurted out, a little appalled at herself for taking advantage of her new business partner.  Midas had been so respectful of her and, in return, she’d just assaulted the poor guy in public. That wasn’t part of the deal.  “I’m really sorry.”  She said again and quickly tried to straighten the wrinkles out of his lapel.  She’d crumpled the expensive, garishly purple material in her hands, holding on for dear life.  “It was totally my fault.  I hope you’re not mad.”

Midas stood perfectly still and let her fix his tacky jacket, not saying anything.

“The moment kind of got away from me.”  Gwen admitted, nervous over his silence.  Then, because bluntness was just a part of her nature, she lowered her voice and added.  “You really are a much better kisser than Arthur.  Has anyone ever told you that?”

Midas stared down at her, breathing hard.  His eyes were the exact color of mysterious coins, unearthed from some ancient city.  They glowed with a totally uncivilized, totally fascinating light.

“Are you okay?”  She prompted, when he just kept looking at her with that wild glint.

“Midas.”  Trystan said sharply.  “Not yet.”

Midas jolted at his name and gave his head a clearing shake, his normal expression returning.  Mostly.  His face was still savage when he turned to the wizard.  “Finish it.”  He growled and somehow his quiet voice echoed throughout the room.

The wizard gulped.  “I now pronounce you man and wife?”  It sounded like a question, but it was enough.  Their names instantly appeared on the marriage scroll, magically written in glowing ink.

They were married.

Seeing proof of their union on an official document seemed to amaze Midas.  His eyes stayed fixed on their illuminated names, as if he expected them to vanish.  “It’s done.”  It sounded like he was talking to himself.  “I did it.”  He ran a hand over his face and let out an uneven breath.  “How the hell did that just happen?”

Gwen gave his arm a comforting pat.  Midas looked overwhelmed and it was her fault.  Her new husband was a delicate soul.  She really had strong-armed him into this and then kissed him with barely any warning.  It was no wonder he had no idea how he’d wound up standing next to her, with his name glinting on a marriage scroll.

“Don’t worry.”  She consoled.  “This won’t be forever.  We have a lot of outs under Clause 11- “Termination of Marriage.”  One day, we’ll have the wizard tear up the marriage scroll and you’ll be free, again.”

Midas hesitated and looked at the scroll in the wizard’s hand.  A frown tugged at his brow.  He said something in the gryphons’ language, which Gwen didn’t understand.

Trystan’s response was bored and short, ending with a shrug.

“Good.”  Midas nodded.  “Do it.”

Gwen looked between them, confused.

“So, you two headed upstairs to finish the fun, Kingpin?”  Dower taunted, before Gwen could demand to know what Trystan and Midas were discussing.  “Might as well enjoy yourself, while you’re still breathing.  Historically speaking, her honeymoons don’t last real long.”

Gwen and Midas flashed him identical glowers.

The wizard blinked, like he was finally sobering up.  “That’s right.  They say the queen --um-- she pushed King Arthur from that balcony.”  He whispered to no one in particular.  “And she is the --uh-- queen, isn’t she?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”  Miss Muffet waved a dismissive hand.  “She poisoned Art first and then tossed him off the balcony.  Best way to be sure.  Trust me.”

“Why would she need poison when she had concrete to do the job?”  Dower demanded.

“It was dragons.”  Hansel and Gretel chorused stubbornly.

“Arthur’s death was an accident.”  Gwen insisted.  She looked up at Midas, afraid he might listen to them and see her as a murderer.  “There was an inquiry that ruled it an accident.  Why is that so hard for everyone to accept?”

“Because you so obviously killed him.”  Trystan intoned.

Midas slanted a deadly look around the room.  “You’re all catching me in the very best mood of my life.  Does anyone really want to change that?”

Everybody stopped talking.

Trystan rolled his eyes.

The door to the office burst open and Jill Hill came stumbling in, a drink in her hand.  “I can’t believe you really did it.”  Arthur’s mistress wore a betrayed expression.  “I can’t believe you really married her.”  She’d obviously been crying.  “My only consolation was that she was suffering and now you’re going to save her!”

Midas frowned.  “Jill…”

Gwen waved him back.  “Let me handle this.”  She took a step towards Jill, not angry by her outburst.  She’d never been jealous of the woman’s relationship with Arthur.  Really, all she felt was compassion.  “Arthur’s death was an accident.”  She said for the millionth time.  “I know you don’t believe that, Jill, but it’s true.”

“You’re lying!  You’ve been lying this whole time and everyone believes it.  Even him.”  She pointed at Midas, on the verge of hysterical sobbing.  “He’s usually smart, but you’ve blinded him. You’re going to kill him and he doesn’t even see it!”

Trystan nodded, like Jill was making a lot of sense.

Gwen mentally counted to ten.  “Jill, I’m not going to kill Midas. We have a legally binding Contract together.  Now, I’ve been as kind to you as I possibly can…”

“Kind?”  Jill hissed, her tears drying up.  “Are you fucking kidding me?”

Gwen kept talking.  “…But Arthur is gone and there’s nothing either of us can do to change it.  We need to move on.  Both of us.  Maybe we can work through this and become friends.”

Jill responded to that offer by flinging herself at Gwen, manicured fingers clawing out like knives.

Gwen tried to be understanding about Jill.  She knew the other woman was grieving Arthur.  It was nice that someone missed the asshole, she supposed.  And Jill herself was a Bad folk, who ran a very popular (albeit sleazy) business.  It was important for little Bad girls everywhere to see that Bad women could be successful professionals.  They didn’t have to be just wicked witches and evil stepmothers.  Entrepreneurial opportunities were everywhere.

Still, enough was enough.  Jill charged forward and Gwen hit her.  Hard.  Gwen was actually pretty good at punching people.  This was the second fight she’d won.  Like everything else in life, hitting people worked best if you were blunt about it.  Her fist slammed out, plowing right into the other woman’s mascara-stained face.

Trystan gave an approving grunt.

Jill staggered back in shock, tottering on her --really pretty-- high heels.  “Wha…?”

Gwen wasn’t giving her a chance to regroup. She hit Jill again, this time on the chin, because the woman was annoyingly statuesque and that was the easiest place to reach.  It hurt her hand, but it did the trick.  Arthur’s mistress collapsed to the floor in a puddle of red silk and champagne.

Midas blinked.

“That wouldn’t have happened if I was Best Man.”  Dower told the room at large.

Gwen stood over Jill, breathing hard.  Crap.  She’d knocked her out.  Granted, all the booze Jill had downed helped, but still…  Rendering another woman unconscious during the ceremony didn’t seem like a very “bride” thing to do.

“I’m really not a violent person.”  Gwen assured her astonished groom, in case all the guns and fistfights confused him.  “Things just keep happening to me.”

Golden eyes flicked over to her face.  “You are the most interesting woman I’ve ever met.”  He finally murmured.

That didn’t sound too bad.  Gwen wasn’t completely satisfied, though.  “She’s going to be fine.  Really.”  A new thought occurred to her and she scowled.  “Wait, are you and Jill…?”

He didn’t even let her finish the sentence.  “No.  Not ever.  You have my word.”

Relief flooded her, even though it was none of her business.  “Good.”

“Mommy?”

Gwen’s head snapped around.  Great.  Jill’s antics had woken up Avalon.  She should hit that insensitive wedding crasher, again.  “I’m here, Avi.”  She hurried over to the sofa, darting past Trystan so she could reach her daughter.  “I’m right here.”

Trystan watched her, not offended that she’d basically shoved him out of the way.  In fact, he stepped aside so Gwen could scoop Avalon up into her arms, a thoughtful expression on his face.  It was the first time he looked halfway encouraged about her.

Gwen didn’t really notice.  She ran a hand over Avi’s soft curls.  “Everything’s fine.”  She soothed, in case the noise had frightened her.  “Mommy’s got you.”

“Sleepy.”  Avalon rested her cheek against Gwen’s shoulder.  “Can we go to bed now?”

“Of course, sweetie.”  Gwen kissed her hair, boundless love filling her.

“I’ll… um… have someone show you to your rooms.”  Midas interjected awkwardly.

All the Bad folk in the room watched Avalon like she might detonate at any moment.  None of them had children.  That was pretty damn clear.  Dower edged backwards in his seat as if he was afraid that Avalon’s blonde ringlets and dimples might be contagious.

Gwen smiled at Midas.  “Thank you.  I’m going to take her up to bed and we can finish talking about all this tomorrow.”

He nodded.  “Whatever you wish.”  He said, because he really was the most agreeable person in the world.

Arthur had been a total ass for throwing him in prison on whatever trumped up charges the Scarecrow had helped him concoct.  All the horror stories about Midas’ villainy were clearly lies.  This man might be a gangster in the technical sense, but he was no fiend.

Why, he was a complete gentleman.

Avi blinked over at Midas without raising her head, her eyes unfocused.  “Hi.”  She said quite clearly and then she was drifting off to sleep again. “I seen you before.”