Chapter Six

 

Parties will keep their respective last names.  Or lack thereof.

Clause 2- Change of Names

 

Midas had been planning to follow his mysterious bride on her mysterious errand, obviously.  The woman had more enemies than Midas had gold and he had an unlimited amount of gold.  Letting her wander around the countryside alone was a terrible idea.  One way or another, he would have ensured that she was protected.  Still, it made things so much easier when she’d simply invited him along.

Why the hell had she done that?

He wanted to ask, but he wasn’t sure he’d like the answer.

Guinevere walked through the gnarled trees, the mist drifting around her like a veil.  The weather was gray, as usual, grieving for Arthur.  It grew more and more melancholy as they traveled deeper into the woods.  Midas couldn’t imagine why Gwen wanted to tour a swamp in the drizzling rain.  Given how delicate she seemed, it would be a miracle if she didn’t simultaneously catch pneumonia and dysentery.

“I love it here.”  She said happily, as if she didn’t notice they were standing in the middle of a stagnant marsh.  “It’s always different, but it’s always the same.”

He felt his mouth curve a bit.  There were worse things to have than a wife who didn’t notice ugliness.  Especially when you looked like Midas.

Careful not to touch her skin, he reached over to adjust the collar of her practical houndstooth coat.  He didn’t want her to be cold.  She’d fastened the buttons wrong and it was adorable.  She was adorable.  Midas had bought her many jackets, made of everything from jub-jub bird feathers to the downy fleece of a yeti, but she’d picked the simplest one available to wear on this journey.

And she looked perfect in it.  Classic and classy and perfect.

Blonde tresses cascaded over his glove, distracting him from her collar.  Sunshine against black leather.  His fingers lingered for a beat, tangled in her amazing hair.  Mesmerized…

Guinevere glanced up at him and Midas yanked his hand back.

“Sorry.”  He blurted out.

Midas could barely remember what it felt like to really touch anything.  He’d been wearing gloves for twenty years.  Even before he’d been cursed, though, he’d never touched anything as soft as his wife’s hair.  He knew that without a doubt.  Christ, he would have gladly traded everything he owned to feel the glittering strands against his actual flesh.

“It’s okay.”  Gwen smiled at him, like she hadn’t minded his touch.

Confused by her lack of irritation, Midas cleared his throat.  “Are we nearly to wherever it is we’re going?”

“Almost.”  She hesitated.  “Remember not to interfere once we get there, okay?  Promise me.  Don’t do anything, or touch anything, or stop me from doing anything or touching anything.  It’s important that you let me handle this.”

Midas nodded, his gaze on her shiny curls, again.  Their color was brighter than gold.

One day in Gwen’s company and he was already realizing that their relationship was going to be more complicated than he’d anticipated.  He wanted her desperately and Midas was a man accustomed to getting what he wanted.  Even if some miracle occurred and he convinced her to want him back, it wouldn’t make a difference, though.  Sex would reveal they were True Loves, so that was out.

Forever.

The whole situation was going to be hell.  Plus, the ground was spongy beneath his feet, reminding him of Celliwig’s endless acres of mud.  That did nothing to improve his mood.

Neither did the idiots trailing after them in the fog.

Midas glanced into the underbrush, keeping his body in between Gwen and the soldiers.  Percival’s men were following them.  Four of them, by the sound of it.  The morons were attempting to be stealthy, but it was hard to sneak around when you were wearing sixty pounds of armor.  Since they weren’t attacking, Midas could only assume that they hoped Gwen led them somewhere before they struck.

He’d considered alerting her to their presence.  It was probably the “right” thing to do.  If he did that, though, she would stop her plan and march over to confront them.  No, not stop.  Postpone.  Whatever she was plotting, she’d keep on plotting it, only next time Midas might not be there to ensure she was okay.

Gwen’s safety meant more to him than trying to figure out what was “right.”  After all, his prison psychiatrists had decided he was incapable of telling right from wrong.  Rather than debate an issue he was apparently unable to understand, it seemed wiser to kill the men threatening Gwen now.

He just hoped to kill them without his wife noticing.  A stack of dead bodies would be a terrible way to start a honeymoon, when your bride thought you were “kind” and “gentle.”

“It’s just up here.”  Guinevere walked faster, her boots crunching on the overgrown path.  It looked as if no one had ever come this way before, but she seemed to know where she was going and he didn’t argue.  “Not everyone can even see it, but this place is very special.”

Midas glanced around the depressing forest.  “Okay.”  He said, not wanting to hurt her feelings.

“I was raised here.”  Guinevere told him.  “It was our vacation house.  My father owned all of this, as far as you can see.”  She waved a hand around the forgotten landscape.  “He left it in trust to Avalon, before she was even born.  Not that I think it’s a good idea to let her come here, right now.  It could be dangerous.”

Midas couldn’t argue with that.  These woods were ominous as hell.  One day, though, he was sure that Avalon would love the strange place as much as her mother did.  The two of them seemed remarkably alike.

Tiny and sweet, Avalon was like an alien species.  She’d smiled at Midas and said they could be best friends.  He couldn’t explain that, but he found it… pleasant.  He no longer wished simply ignore her.  Arthur might not have wanted a child that wasn’t biologically his around, but Midas was coming to like the idea.  Avalon interested him.

Especially her claims that Arthur wasn’t her daddy.

“Our main house was much grander, but this was the place my father came when he wanted to relax.”  Gwen continued.  “It’s quiet here.  Merlyn couldn’t think when too many people were around.  All their thoughts and feelings and futures would crowd in on him.”

Merlyn. Her father.

The wizard’s name was still whispered in respect and he’d been dead for nearly six years.  It was one more reason that Guinevere didn’t belong with Midas.  She was Arthur’s widow, the Queen of Camelot, the daughter of the greatest sorcerer in history, the best mother he’d ever seen, and Good straight down to her sparkling clean soul.  Gwen could do far, far better than a tawdry, feral animal.

Fuck.

“There it is.”  Gwen pointed to a pile of debris that didn’t look like it had been an actual dwelling for centuries.

Midas squinted at it.  At what point did a house stop being a house and become something that had once been a house?  He wasn’t sure, but he knew that this particular place had long since crossed that line.

Gwen glanced from the haphazardly piled stones to Midas.  “Do you see it?”  She asked intently.

Midas frowned.  Not wanting to disappoint her, he looked towards the building and wondered what the hell he was supposed to see beyond squalor.  For a long moment there was nothing …and then Midas began to feel the latent magic in the air.  Sense the power that cloaked the home.  The edges of the stones shimmered and his mouth parted in wonder.

“Jesus.”  He whispered.

Merlyn had enspelled the house to trick all those who did not look deeply enough.  If Midas concentrated, he could see that the abandoned ruin was really just a gauzy overlay obscuring reality.  Beneath the magic, the actual house --the building Gwen’s father had constructed-- was a miniature castle, surrounded by a wide moat.  Its shining façade was entirely intact, Merlyn’s banner still flying from a tall tower.

It was magical.

Midas drew in a deep breath, overwhelmed and yet not surprised by the small palace.  Of course Gwen would have stepped right out of a storybook.  Where else could such a woman have grown up?

“It’s beautiful.”  He murmured and meant it.

She sent him another smile.  “Not everyone thinks so.  Not everyone sees.”  Her eyes glowed with warmth.  “I knew you would, though.”

That was a compliment.  He could tell by her tone and it was the first compliment he ever remembered receiving.  He wasn’t sure how he was supposed to respond.

“Galahad’s the only other person I’ve ever brought here and even he had trouble peering through the magic.  That surprised me, because he’s wonderful at everything.  But he was so apologetic about it, that it was kind of funny.” 

Midas’ mood darkened again.  Every time she spoke of Galahad, he heard the affection and admiration in her voice.  There wasn’t a doubt in Midas’ mind that the only reason she’d come to him for help was because her knight in shining armor was inconveniently banished.  If Galahad ever showed up to offer her aid, Gwen would be rushing out Midas’ door and right into his shining-armor-clad arms.

Hopefully, Arthur had been smart enough to send the wonderful bastard far, far away.

“Just… don’t touch anything.”  Gwen reiterated, not bothered by his lack of an answer.  “Whether you see it or not, don’t touch it.  It could be dangerous.  Just leave it all to me.”  With that, as if she was just too excited to wait any longer, she bounded towards the enchanted castle.

Midas smiled despite himself, amused by her enthusiasm.

One of the soldiers was apparently just as eager.  He burst from the forest, running forward with his sword extended.  Percival’s brain-trust wasn’t much for strategic thinking.  Midas moved sideways, so the imbecile charged right past him.  The knight must have decided to do away with Midas while Gwen was distracted, so he’d have a clear shot at her afterwards.

It wasn’t the best plan.

As the man thundered by, it was shockingly simple to reach out and grab the sword.  The razor-sharp edge didn’t do any damage to his palm.  The curse made sure that Midas’ hands were always protected.  He knew that without question, because he’d tried hacking them off in an effort to cure his golden touch and it didn’t work.  They were indestructible.

He wrenched the sword right out of the man’s grasp, his fingers wrapped tightly around the blade.

The guard kept running for a few paces and then staggered to a stop, surprised that he’d overshot his target and lost his weapon.  He turned, an astonished look on his face.  Maybe he’d expected Midas to fight fair.  Maybe that was what a knight would do.

Truthfully, Midas didn’t give a fuck.

He stepped forward, flipping the sword around in his hand and stabbing it right between the armored plates on the man’s chest.  His other palm came up to clamp over the bastard’s mouth, so he couldn’t cry out.

“If you want to try and kill me,” he said quietly, as the man gurgled in shock, “don’t do it with my wife around.  It pisses me off.”  He gave one quick twist of the blade, making sure the man was dead.

Pitiful.

“Coming, Midas?”  Guinevere called, without turning around.

“Coming.”  Midas tossed the body into the underbrush at the side of the road, so she wouldn’t see it on their way out.  The rest of the King’s Men would be spread out, waiting for openings to attack.  Hopefully, they’d all be considerate enough to die quietly. He was in no hurry to spoil Gwen’s fun

…Or dispel her illusions about his honorable nature.

Midas walked up the path after his wife, wincing a bit as the mud ruined his handmade shoes.  He hated mud.  It sucked you down and stuck to your skin and stained your clothes.  His whole life, he’d been trying to wash it off and he still never seemed to come clean.  Sighing in annoyance, he headed across the drawbridge and through the arched door of the miniature castle.  He wiped his shoes before he entered, but he could still see the dirt marring them.  As soon as he got home, he was going to throw them away and buy a new pair.

Gwen was already disappearing up the curving staircase.  “This way!”

Another one of the King’s Men came at him, swinging a saber at Midas’ head.  Midas jumped back to avoid decapitation.  “Oh for fuck’s sake…”

“Everything okay?”  Guinevere called from upstairs.

“It’s fine.”  Midas ducked another blow from the sword and slammed his foot into the other man’s leg.

The knight was encased in armor, so the impact didn’t do much damage, but it did knock him off balance.  The smaller man collapsed to one knee, his arm coming out to steady himself on the wall.  “Bad folk will never win.”  He snarled.  “Give us the woman and we’ll allow you to live.”

Midas arched a brow.  “No.”  Casually, he shoved the guy backwards.  That was all it took.  His assailant toppled over, flailing around like an upside down turtle unable to right himself.

Growing up, brawling on the streets for food, Midas learned absolutely nothing about gentlemanly conduct.  …But he had learned how to win.  If the King’s Men spent more time fighting and less time signing autographs, they might have discovered that armor was great for impressing the ladies at court, but it kind of sucked when it came to a fistfight.

Midas seized his would-be assassin by the helmet strap and dragged him out the door again, before Gwen heard his swearing and threats.

“There’s nothing you can do that will stop what’s coming.”  The man raged. “Good folk are the future of Camelot!”

“You won’t be in the future, so what do you care?”  Midas tipped the dickhead into the moat without giving him a chance to sputter out a response.  The weight of the armor made swimming impossible and water slurped him down with a greedy splash.

“Midas?”  Gwen shouted.  “Where are you?”

“By the moat.”

“The moat?”  Gwen sounded alarmed.  “Don’t get too close.  George is in there.”

“George…?”

Even as he said the word, a gigantic monster was swimming beneath him, drawn by movement in the water.  Midas’ eyebrows soared as the beast rushed directly under the drawbridge, tentacles sweeping the depths of the moat.  He couldn’t get a clear view of it, but he had the distinct impression of an octopus-like creature with a parrot’s beak and black spikes on its slimy skin.

“He’s just a baby.”  Gwen continued loudly.  “I thought of releasing him into the ocean, so he could have more room, but he only has three arms.”  She sounded sad for the gigantic sea serpent.  “He’s practically helpless!  In the wild, he’d be gobbled up in no time.  Fortunately, kraken make wonderful pets, just so you don’t touch them.”

An ominous swarm of bubbles exploded to the surface, telling Midas that Gwen’s helpless baby had found an armored-coated snack.

“Don’t worry.  I’m not going to touch George.”  He shook his head in exasperation.  A pet kraken.  Fucking hell.

Exasperated, Midas went back inside and immediately muttered a curse.  Another of the King’s Men had come in from a different direction.  He was already racing upstairs, towards the sound of Gwen’s voice, his gaze fanatically determined.

Son of a bitch.

Midas’ eyes narrowed and he headed after him, leaping over the banister in silent pursuit.  It was one thing to try and kill him.  Obviously, he didn’t like it, but he could handle it with, he thought, an admirable degree of restraint.  Nobody went after Guinevere, though.  Not unless they wanted to see the fucking “violent predator” Arthur had raged against in court.

Midas reached the man halfway up the steps, yanking him to a halt on the landing.  The guy gave a squawk of alarm as Midas seized him from behind. He attempted to wrestle his sword free of its scabbard, but it was no use.  Midas took him down faster than George devouring the last knight.  He spun the smaller man around and hefted him up by the throat, so his feet didn’t even touch the ground.

The guy gave a strangled gurgle, clawing for air.

“Midas, are you okay?”  Guinevere shouted from above them.  “I heard something crash.”

“I’m fine, Gwen.”

“Well, it’s not safe for you to be wandering around alone.  Come up here, so I can keep an eye on you.”

Midas didn’t know whether to be irritated or charmed by her insistence that she needed to look after him.  “I’ll be right there, kitten.”  The endearment slipped out without him even noticing.  He kept his eyes on his captive and lowered his voice.  “Explain why you’re coming after my wife.”  He ordered softly.  “And, for your sake, it had better be one goddamn compelling reason.”

“Not going to… harm her.”  The guard wheezed, still trying to pry Midas’ fingers from his windpipe.  “The Scarecrow wants… his woman alive.”

“The woman is mine and I don’t fucking share.”  Midas reached over to unlatch the landing’s stained-glass window with his free hand.

The guy’s face was going purple, but he remained defiant.  “Kill me… if you want… villain.”  He choked out.  “The Scarecrow… will just keep coming… forever… until he has her.”

“Not forever.  Just until I kill him, too.”

Midas pitched the bastard out a second story window.  It had taken an extra moment to open the window, so as not to break the delicate pattern of flowers worked into the multicolored glass, but it had been worth it.  Gwen wouldn’t like it if he harmed her father’s home.  This way was just as effective, with no property damage.  He watched dispassionately as the soldier hit the bank of the moat with a reverberating clang of metal against rocks and bone.

Instantly, three tentacles slithered out of the water to pull the body under the murky surface. George was still hungry.

“Are you sure you didn’t hear something?”  Gwen asked, appearing over the edge of the balcony.

Midas tilted his head, listening.  “I don’t hear anything, now.”  He told her truthfully and trotted up the remainder of the stairs.

She accepted that with a nod and headed down the hall.  “Just don’t touch anything.  There are more animals around here and not all of them are friendly.  They kind of have the run of the house, these days.”

Well, that was great news.  Midas sighed and followed her into a random room.  “Are you sure that kraken is getting enough to eat?  I think maybe it wants some meat.”

“Kraken are herbivores.  George eats the algae in the moat.  It’s very nutritious.”

“Uh-huh.”  Midas made a mental note to bring the creature some steaks or something.  George was clearly sick of his vegetarian diet.  “Can I ask what we’re doing here, Gwen?”

“We’re searching for clues.”  She started rooting through a bedroom closet.  From the furnishings, Midas guessed that it was Merlyn’s room.  Everything was oversized and masculine.

“Clues to what?”  He stood half in the doorway and half in the room, so he could scan for more uninvited company of either the armed maniac or wild animal varieties.

Gwen sent him a sideways look, like she was debating how much to tell him.  Midas waited, allowing himself to be weighed by those lake-blue eyes.

“Clues to the location of my father’s magic wand.”  She finally said and Midas realized that he’d somehow passed another test with her.  Hell if he knew how that kept happening, but he wasn’t about to question his luck.

“Is this the wand that Percival was after last night?”

“Yes.  I’ve been searching for it for months now.”  She gave up on the closet and crawled under the bed tossing out mismatched shoes and an animal that looked like a chicken with scales.  The hideous creature gave an angry chirp at being disturbed and waddled away, dragging a reptilian tail behind it.  “Before he died, Merlyn videotaped a message for me, saying that he hid his wand someplace.”

“Why?”

“So I could have it if I ever needed it, but no one else could find it.  He told me it was in the very last place he’d want to look.”

“Who’s ‘he’?”

“Arthur, I assume.  But where would Arthur not want to look?  I’ve tried all the libraries.  That was my first guess.”  She made a face.  “So typical of my father to be vague.  Did I mention he remembered things in reverse?”

“No, you didn’t.  That sounds… complicated.”

“Complicated?”  She scoffed, like that was a massive understatement.  “Everything that had already happened, he forgot.  He only remembered what hadn’t happened yet.  He would be sad when he first met someone, because he knew it would be the last time he ever saw them.  He’d plan for events that we’d attended yesterday and talk about tomorrow in the past tense.  It was impossible to keep up.”  She paused, a grin crossing her face, like she was recalling all the chaos her father had caused.  “He was marvelous.”

Midas had no idea what it would be like to have a “marvelous” parent.  Looking at Gwen, though, he caught a glimpse of it and it warmed something inside of him.  “I’m glad you were happy.”  He said quietly.  His own childhood had been so bleak.  So empty.  He would never want that for her.  Gwen deserved to be surrounded by love.

“That was my mother.”  Gwen pointed to a portrait of a blonde haired woman in a wedding dress.

Midas tilted his head to study the picture.  “She’s lovely.”  She looked like Guinevere so how could she be anything else?

“She died giving birth to me.  My whole life, it was just me and Merlyn.  Until Arthur, anyway.”  Gwen paused, her expression growing darker.  “He and Merlyn had some… differences.”

Midas made a noncommittal sound and decided he was a hundred percent on Merlyn’s side of the dispute.

“Merlyn knew that, one day, Avalon would be born.”  Gwen explained.  “He knew how much I’d love her and how important she’d be, but he was not Arthur’s biggest fan.  He was the head of the Wizard’s Congress.  Rather than give Arthur any spells, he decided to just stop doing magic.”

“That’s why the wizards locked themselves in the Emerald City?”

“Exactly.”  She sighed.  “Anyway, Merlyn left his wand somewhere and said I’d be able to find it when I needed it.  Except, I need it now and I can’t find it.”

“And now the Scarecrow is looking for it, too.”  That wasn’t good news.

“He wants to stop me from stopping him.  It won’t work.”  She stood up, dusting the dirt from her hands.  “I will never let him carry out his monstrous plans.”  Gwen began yanking drawers from the dresser.  A flurry of half-spider/half-dachshund looking animals came skittering out of the bureau, as she tossed aside old clothing.

Midas would have kept asking questions, but there was a small sound in the hall.  “Excuse me for a moment.”  He stepped out, closing the door behind him, sealing her safely in her father’s room.

“What are you doing?”  Gwen demanded through the cheerfully painted wood.  “Don’t touch anything.”

Midas ignored that, his eyes scanning around for the source of the noise.  It only took him a heartbeat to know that the fourth guard was hiding in the next room.  Jesus.  He rolled his eyes towards the ceiling.  These jackasses would last about twenty minutes in Celliwig.

He absently took his jacket off and crumpled it in his fist, trying not to think about the unicorn-thread fabric he was ruining.  Instead, he counted down from ten.

At seven, the door to the next room cracked open, the other man too impatient to wait any longer.  At six, Midas grasped the knob, yanking it forward while the guard was still holding the other side.  The guy stumbled forward, off balance.  At five, Midas slammed it back, so the door smashed into the soldier’s head and knocked him down.  By four, he’d prowled into the room and stuffed the ball of fabric over the lower half of the man’s face so he couldn’t cry out.  At three, the genius tried to stab Midas with a knife that had been strapped to his belt.  He ended up slicing Midas’ arm.  By two, Midas was leaning over him, wrestling the blade away.

And, at one, he snapped the man’s neck between his large hands.

Shit.

Midas sat back and examined the wound on his forearm.  Blood seeped from it, several drops hitting the dead body.  That had been a clumsy fight, but no matter.  It would heal.  He stood up, shrugging his wrinkled jacket back on to hide the gash in his shirt sleeve.  The last thing he wanted was Gwen asking how he’d been injured.  Not that she’d care, overly much, but it would raise all kinds of questions about…

A bloodthirsty growl interrupted his thoughts.

Midas’ head whipped around, coming face-to-face with the most grotesque creature he’d ever seen.  It was hideous, with the body of a hyena and the head of a monkey.  It looked like the two species has been split down the middle and sewn back together.  Badly.  Its fur was a patchy mix of tawny spots and laboratory tattoos.

Someone had made this thing.

Why?

The nameless animal slowly advanced on him, snarling like a demon from a horror movie. Yellow teeth, the size of human fingers, dripped with saliva and foam.  Its too-round, too-intelligent eyes stayed fixed on him, like it was just as puzzled to see Midas standing there.  The two of them stared at each other for an endless moment.

“Midas?”  Gwen called, breaking the spell.

The mutated whatzit suddenly leapt at him, its claws extended.

Midas bolted backwards into the hall, slamming the door behind him.  Almost instantly, he heard the animal impact the wood, shaking the whole house.  Fuck.  A second slower and it would have gotten him.  Some skin-crawling combination of angry monkey screams and hyena yowls sounded from inside the room, quickly followed by the unmistakable noise of the creature devouring the knight’s body.

Midas winced.

“I think you’re touching things.”  Gwen accused from behind him.

He spun around to look at her.  “There’s some kind of… something in that room.”

“Oh.  That’s just the monkena.  I call him Henry.”

“Why is Henry staying in your guest room?”

She wrinkled her nose.  “Because he likes it in there.  Believe me, I’ve tried to get him into the basement, but he just won’t live anyplace else.  I think he likes the view.”

Midas pinched the bridge of his nose and rephrased.  “Where did all these weird animals come from, Gwen?”

“I brought them here.”  She admitted reluctantly.  “There are hundreds of empty acres for them to live on, plus the house.  The whole place is enspelled, so it self-cleans and they have food.  It seemed like the safest place for them.”

“Safe from what?

“Dark Science.”

“What the hell is that?”

She chewed her lower lip.  “When Merlyn refused to use spells to help him win his wars, Arthur tried science.  You have to understand, Arthur lived with the legacy of his father, the hero of the Looking Glass Campaigns.  He wanted to prove himself in some epic battle.”

“King Uther was a genocidal maniac.”

“But he was also his father and Arthur wanted to measure up.”  She paused.  “Also, I think he was drunk.  Arthur had the worst ideas when he was drinking.”

Fucking hell.

“Anyway, Arthur hired scientists to create weapons that were better than magic.  Without the built-in boundaries that keep us safe.  Before long, their experiments became… twisted.  Dark.  You can’t artificially create something natural.  There are always consequences.”

Not killing Arthur himself really was Midas’ biggest regret.  It just became clearer every day.

“Now, the Scarecrow is pushing Dark Science farther than ever.  Doing ghastly things, thanks to the White Rabbit, his conscienceless stooge.  My father’s wand is the only thing that can stop this madness.  His magic will destroy Dark Science, once and for all.  It has to.  The monkena is one of that evil bunny’s better experiments.  You should see the firebird.”  Gwen sniffed.  “I just feel terrible about poor Harriet”

He was probably going to regret asking, but…  “What’s a firebird?”

“Oh, Harriet’s half-bird, half-fire.  Her feathers are literally burning.  I have to keep her locked in the tower.”  Gwen pointed towards the ceiling and the stone turret beyond.  “It’s fireproof.  Otherwise, all of Camelot would be ablaze.  It’s not fair, because she’s so sweet.  She follows me around like a puppy.”

Good God.

“I tried to let Harriet nest in the trees outside, but she started a forest fire.”  Gwen held up a palm, like she wanted to forestall his pretty fucking obvious concerns.  “Just a small one.  I’m hoping I can train her to control the flames.”  The firebird was clearly Gwen’s favorite monster-y pet.  “I bought her a dog whistle, so we can practice.  So far, Harriet’s not getting it, though.  But she does come when she’s called.  Isn’t that cute?”

“Adorable.”  The woman was going to give him a heart attack before their first anniversary.  “Let’s rewind to the part where you brought all the fiery, tentacled animals here.”

“Well, when we…”  She broke off and started again.  “When I saw what was happening in the lab, I decided to stop it.  I broke all the animals out and did my best to destroy the White Rabbit’s research.  I set him behind for a while, but it wasn’t enough.”  She sighed.  “Anyway, after I saved them, I hid the animals here.  It seemed like the best choice.”

“Did it?  Did it really?”

“Well, I know it’s not perfect, but this is just temporary.”  She ran a hand through her hair.  “Before the Scarecrow stole everything from me, I thought that I could --I don’t know-- hire someone to take care of them in a sanctuary or something.  Obviously, that’s kind of taking a backseat, because of being locked in a dungeon and getting married and the war.”

“Obviously.”

“That’s why I told you to stay close to me, while we’re here.  It can be dangerous around the animals, unless you’re used to dealing with life-threatening situations.”

“Which you are and I’m not?”  He translated, incredulously.

“Of course.”  She laid a hand on his uninjured arm, like she had some tragic news to relay.  “You probably don’t want to hear this, but you’re not the most street-smart man in Camelot.  I know you have a job as a gangster, but you’re kind of a little bit naïve.  Plus, you keep touching things.”

“I did not touch…”  Midas broke off as a hoard of mice raced by.  Only, somehow, it was just one mouse. It looked as if forty of them had been fused together by their tails to create a single being.  They were normal-sized mice, not the humanoid variety, all of them running together in a massive knot of pink feet and squeaking and gray fur.

“Mouse king.”  Gwen told him unnecessarily.  “I call him Ted.”

Midas closed his eyes and prayed for patience.  It was astounding that anybody thought this woman was heartless.  She’d created an un-petting zoo for freaks.  As dangerous and illogical as this situation was, Midas couldn’t help but be enchanted by her innocent do-Gooding.  There was no one else in the world like his angelic wife.

“Finish looking for the wand, so we can get out of here.”  He told her, wondering why in the hell he’d been given such a Good-hearted True Love.  Gwen truly did deserve someone better.  “Then, I will hire a team of experts to care for your menagerie of unnatural beasts.”

“Really?”  She looked surprised.  “You’d do that for me?”

“I would do anything for you.”  The words came before he could stop them.  “Anything to make you happy.”

Gwen gazed up at him silently.  Once again, Midas had the feeling he was being examined from the inside out.  He stared back at her, not looking away from her eyes.

Christ, she was beautiful.

“Thank you.”  She finally whispered and stepped closer to him.

“You don’t have to thank me.”  Unable to help himself, Midas reached out to fiddle with her collar again, trying to smooth it down.  “If you want something, I’ll make sure you have it.”  He absently rubbed one of her curls between his thumb and forefinger, fascinated by the way it sprang back to its original shape when he released it.

She didn’t tell him to stop, which was astonishing.  Why didn’t she tell him to stop?  Big blue eyes stared up at him, unafraid.  “Why?”  She asked, instead.

“Huh?”  Midas had lost the thread of the conversation.  “Why what?”

It was hard to concentrate on anything but the desire coursing through him.  All his life, he’d ignored the barriers meant to keep him from what he wanted and he wanted nothing as much as he wanted Gwen.  Midas instinctively pulled her closer.  His palms slipped down to the lapels of her coat, gripping them tight and tugging her forward.

Gwen gave a surprised gasp as he dragged her towards him. The quick, indrawn breath caused her chest to rise.  Her breasts brushed against the back of his fingers and Midas’ eyes nearly crossed.  Fuck.  A hiss of air escaped him, his body on fire for her.

Gwen blinked up at him, still not struggling to get free.  “You’re definitely touching something, now.”  She murmured and he almost thought her mouth curved.

“I know.  I’m sorry.  I’m…”  Midas shook his head and began unfastening her jacket, trying to focus.  “It’s buttoned wrong.”  His voice was too rough.  He cleared his throat and tried again.  “That’s why your collar isn’t straight.  Your coat is crooked.”

She stood still, letting him adjust her clothes.  “Fix it for me, then.”

It was all he could do not to groan.  Was this another test of some kind?  Midas was too dazed to decide.  His fingers slid over the buttons, feeling big and awkward.  He should not be touching her.  No one from Celliwig should ever touch such a classy woman.  …But he sure as hell didn’t stop touching her.

He wasn’t an idiot.

Gwen made a soft whisper of a sound, as his thumb inadvertently rasped over the tip of her breast.  Even through the layers of fabric and the leather of his glove, Midas could sense her nipple bead.  That response was all it took for him to become more aroused than he’d ever been.  He got so hard, so fast it would be a wonder if he didn’t permanently cripple himself.

His wife.

Midas’ jaw clenched, trying to calm down.  Shit.  All he’d done was touch her coat and he was ready to come.  He needed to stop this, before it went too far.  He didn’t have control.  He always had control.

Gwen’s pulse hammered in her neck. “Why do you want to make me happy?”  She asked, obviously trying to get them back on track.  “That isn’t part of our Contract.”

“Honoring and cherishing you is part of our Contract.”  Midas finished with his ministrations and reluctantly dropped his fingers.  “I promised it in my vows.”

Gwen frowned.  “Well, I hadn’t considered the actual ceremony part of our deal…”

Midas cut her off, sexual frustration making him harsher than usual.  “I consider it part of the deal.”  The only part he cared about, as a matter of fact.  “Is there something about our wedding ceremony that you feel wasn’t contractually binding?”

“No, but from a practical sense, it could be hard to reconcile a…” she floundered for a beat, “a traditional person’s view of a marriage contract with our very rational business Contract.”

“I’m not having an issue with it.”

“Well, I know we’re fake-married, but…”

“We’re not fake-married.”  Midas interjected unequivocally.  “Our wedding was completely legitimate.”  It was the first time the law had ever worked in his favor, so he’d ensured every i was dotted and every t was crossed.  “Our names are on a real scroll, witnessed by a real wizard, in a real wedding ceremony, where we said real vows.”

“Yes, but…”

“It’s all detailed in our very real and very valid and very legal marriage contract.”

Gwen’s eyebrows compressed like she wanted to argue her position, but wasn’t exactly sure what her position was.

“I take all contracts seriously.”  Midas adopted a look of polite inquiry.  “Don’t you?”

“Of course I take contracts seriously!  I’m just…”  Gwen trailed off and took a deep breath.  “I’m just going to go look for the wand.  This is getting us nowhere.”  She turned back to Merlyn’s room with a stubborn set to her jaw.  “Stay there and don’t touch anything else.”

The only thing he wanted to touch was walking away from him, so that wouldn’t be a problem.  Midas leaned a shoulder against the wall, his lower body still throbbing.  His eyes fixed on the shapely curve of Gwen’s posterior, which did nothing to help the situation.  Goddamn.  However much he’d paid for those unadorned jeans she was wearing, they had been a fucking brilliant investment.  He was going to order her about fifty more pair and…

The gunshot caught him by surprise.

Midas automatically ducked to the side and had the vague thought that it was astonishing anyone could miss him at close range.  As a target, he was massive.  Camelot’s anti-gun laws were really not such a terrible thing.  It meant that most people in the kingdom had rotten aim.  The bullet sailed past his forehead, imbedding in the wall beside him.  Instantly, Merlyn’s self-cleaning, self-repairing house absorbed the bullet-hole, not leaving even a trace of it on the tasteful yellow wall.

Midas barely noticed, his gaze siting on the lone figure at the end of the hall.  Apparently, there had been five of the King’s Men lurking around.  Son of a bitch.  He did a quick scan for Gwen, who’d ducked back into Merlyn’s room.

Percival gave a cackle of malicious delight.  “I warned you, Kingpin.  I warned you what would happen if you crossed me.  You and that gryphon you hang around with.”  He sneered out the name of Trystan’s people in disgust, hatred evident on his puckered face.  “I fought in the Looking Glass Campaigns.  I saw their barbarism, firsthand.  It’s repulsive that you would allow one of those winged devils into your home.”

“The gryphon weren’t the devils in that war.”

“You’re a fucking traitor, if you think that!”  Percival shouted.  “I’m not surprised.  You’re nothing but a mongrel, crawled out of a mud hole.”  He smirked.  “You thought you got the best of me last night, but it will never happen!  I’m Good.  I’m right.”

“You’re an idiot.  You always have been.”

Percival didn’t appreciate Midas quoting Gwen’s entirely correct assessment.  “Shut up!”  He jabbed the gun in a blind fury.  “I’m going to kill you, as all Bad folk should be killed! Then, the Scarecrow will have the woman and we’ll control Camelot.  It’s ours, because we’re better than you and your dirty, savage, flying friends.  Now, hand her over!”

“My wife is going nowhere with you.”  Midas started forward, intent on killing the man or dying in the attempt.  “Fucking shoot me and don’t miss, this time.  It’s the only way you’ll ever take her from me.”

Percival’s eyes narrowed in panic at such a direct attack.  Raising the gun, he tried to fire.  Maybe the second time would have been the charm or maybe he would have missed, again.  Neither of them got a chance to find out.

Guinevere came up behind Percival and slammed something into the back of his skull.  There was a sickening crunch and the sound of shattering glass.  Then Percival was tipping forward, unconscious.  The gun tumbled to the carpet, Percival falling only a heartbeat behind it.  They both lay on the floor, subdued.

Midas moved to check his pulse.  Well shit.  The jackass wasn’t dead, sadly, but still it was pretty fine work for a Good folk.  He glanced at Gwen, his mouth curving with pride.

His wife.

“Hi, kitten.”  He said mildly.  “Great timing.”

“Thanks.”  Gwen smiled at him.  “So, I didn’t find Merlyn’s magic wand.”  She shrugged and held up a clear orb with a newly created, gigantic crack running straight through its center.  “But, I knew right where he kept his crystal ball.”