#location: king midas' palace.

[treatian]

The Chronicles of the Dark One:  The Dark Curse

Chapter 144:  What the Dove Saw

Pirithous was not exactly happy when he summoned him into the tower that night. But then, when had he ever been happy to be summoned? In a perfect world, he'd have gone on using Theseus as his spy, as it was now Pirithous was all he had, happy or not.

"I have need of you," he commented as the bird-man stood before him.

"Obviously…what will your bidding be this time, O Mighty Dark One…"

He glanced up at him, very unimpressed with his sarcasm. "A little less cheek, perhaps…"

The boy didn't respond, just rolled his eyes and awaited his orders.

"I'm sending you to King George's kingdom. There's a deal I'm overseeing, and I'd like to oversee it…closer."

Pirithous rolled his eyes and shook his head. "With all your magic…why don't you just do it yourself? Wouldn't it be easier to just take my shapeshifting ability and go yourself?"

He laughed at such a suggestion. "Would you like me to?" he threatened. Pirithous remained silent because they both knew that he didn't want such a thing. Sure, it would free him from being useful, but it would also ground him for the rest of his life. He could take the power, but to never perch in the trees again, to never soar high above the clouds, feel the wind beneath his wings, they both knew he'd be unhappy with such an arrangement.

"Sometimes I prefer 'boots on the ground'…or should I say claws," he finally explained to him. "Besides…I'm a busy man."

"And I'm not?!" Pirithous argued. "My father is unwell, the crown will soon be mine, I need to take a wife, have a child, and prepare to take his place."

"Yes, and you can add serving me to that list." Whine, whine, whine, whine! It was never-ending with him! He wanted to take a wife, but he couldn't imagine one that would like a husband that whined as he did about everything. Pirithous had a kingdom to run someday, but he had the Curse of a lifetime to cast and break. A curse, he might add, that would make his rule a hell of a lot shorter than he would ever imagine. Therefore, his tasks were the ones that would take priority.

"Now listen…in King George's Kingdom, I want you to pay close attention to Prince James, stick closely to him."

"As if I have a choice," he sighed like a bored teenager.

"You don't," he remarked. "Oh! And there's this one other little thing that you might need to know. The Prince recently hit his head…if he or any of his fellow soldiers should call him 'David' a time or two…I'd think nothing of it."

"What's that supposed to-"

"Good-bye!" he shouted, sending him off to a faraway land before he could ask any more questions.

He was busy. He intended to watch David himself, of course, but out in the world, on the way to King Midas territory, he knew that it was unlikely there would be any mirrors to watch, or better yet, hear, from. Aside from that, it wasn't only David he was interested in. Now that he was positive the right twin had the crown, and his future, within his grasp, there was another person he needed to keep his eyes on.

He located Snow White in Sherwood Forest. In order to get to the Dragon, David would have to travel through Sherwood Forest, and he half expected he'd meet the Princess there. But he didn't. He shouldn't have been surprised. He wasn't quite sure how their love story would play out, but he knew that Abigail was going to be part of it. Anything that happened, he figured, wouldn't happen until after the dragon was dead and Midas' offered his daughter to David.

He kept an eye on Snow just as he did David. Sherwood Forest, Midas' Wood, King George's Kingdom, and the outskirts of her own former Kingdom…those were her frequent haunts, and now would be David's as well. If he pulled this off, then they'd be on the road for the next several days giving the pair ample opportunity to meet face to face.

David made it to Midas's Kingdom, and so the hoax began. He watched the pair's interaction, but Midas seemed none the wiser that the man before him was not Prince James. Though it helped, he assumed, that David was always surrounded by George's troops, all of whom were in on the trick, and chosen specifically to make David look good just as he'd instructed. But David…he was an impressive man; well raised. He was good. The kind of person that he could see Snow White falling for easily as opposed to James who was haughty, devious, and spoiled. It was odd how one little detail could allow the future to fall into place so clearly!

David slayed the dragon. To his own shock, he did it on his own. Not George's troops or soldiers, not the special team he'd assembled to keep David alive. David himself was the one who did the deed.

With a bit of luck and bravery and another fallen soldier's sword, he beheaded the creature with a single blow. Afterward, as was custom, the head of the beast was taken back to King George's castle. Royals and their foolish traditions…

Because David had killed the beast, that meant that it was considered his kill, his property. At the castle of King George, where the challenge was issued, that was where the deal between them had to be sealed, the official place that he had to surrender the head to King Midas, in the sight of King George. From his tower he watched as Midas and George did the talking, David stood there pretending, convincingly, that he understood the ins and outs of their movements and negotiations, though he looked a little too mesmerized the moment that Midas touched the head and turned it to gold. And then it happened. Just as he was told it would, but still surprising all the same. When the ritual called for the King to spoil the victor with riches, the daughter, Abigail, entered the room.

Words were exchanged, she looked unimpressed at the boy but eventually shrugged.

David moved forward and began to explain something with a small shake of his head before the King swallowed him up in a hug that lasted too long and yet not long enough! Something important was happening! He was telling him something, obviously enough. But by the time he'd examined the room and found a shiny surface he might peer through to hear what he was saying, it was over; the moment, the words, all of it. And that was why he always preferred to have someone close to the action. When the ritual was concluded, he wasted no time summoning Pirithous back to tell him what happened.

"It was a threat!" the bird burst out the moment he was back. "The King threatened the Prince! He took him aside under Midas' eye and told him that the would kill him, kill his mother, and burn down the Prince's farm if he said anything but 'yes' to the union with Midas' daughter! The Queen has been dead for years! Just what are you playing at?! Who is that in the Prince's clothes?!" he demanded angrily.

He ignored his outburst and kept his hands gathered together in front of him, maintaining his calm demeanor. Whatever Pirithous was feeling wasn't his concern, and he certainly hadn't sent him out there to put it all together on his own.

"Did he say yes?"

"Of course he said yes!" he shouted. "What else would there be to say?! King George is ruthless. My parents want nothing to do with his Kingdom and for good reason. I want nothing to do with it! But I need to know who I'm dealing with before I ascend the throne."

He smirked, but smiling was far from the emotion that he was feeling. He'd put it together and now knew there was a state secret going around. Soon being King would begin to color his thinking and since he'd inherited this job he didn't expect him to be as devoted to it as his dear father had. Indeed, Pirithous made dealing with Theseus look like a pleasure. Perhaps the bird was coming to the end of his usefulness as his rule drew closer. He had a brother, and several cousins that shared family blood, the loyalty he'd demanded from Theseus would work for all of them.

"Worry not, little prince. This is one change that will be of use to you. For if Prince James takes the throne with his bride, I've no doubt that the Kingdom will be a better place under his rule."

He'd hoped that words of prophecy might have had the same effect on Pirithous that they had on Clopin, but instead, the man's eyes narrowed. "Prince James, the real Prince James," he stressed, "is cut from the same cloth as his father. That…man is not Prince James."

"All will be revealed in good time."

But the dove wouldn't let it go. He could see that plain as day written all over his face. The wheels in his head were turning; pieces were coming together. But the full story was still just beyond his reach, and he felt confident that unless he talked to David himself, it always would be. Most of the soldiers who knew who he was had been killed. Midas had no idea. George wouldn't tell for that reason alone. And he was certain that David would keep his secret for his mother's sake, and his mother would keep it for David's sake. Unless David chose to tell Snow White, the secret would die with him. But he could see easily enough in Pirithous eyes that it wasn't good enough for him.

Damn.

"Send me back."

"What?!" he shrieked. "Before you were begging me to leave you be, why would you want to go back?"

"In a few days, the Prince, whoever he may be, and Abigail are moving from King Midas' current palace into his new home. But tomorrow morning the Prince is going somewhere. Before I left, he asked one of the stable hands to prepare a horse for the journey in the morning. He begged the King to excuse him from breakfast and he agreed, reminding him again not to make a choice he'd regret. What is going on? I want to know! If that means I have to go back to find out, then so be it!"

Useful information, Pirithous had always provided useful information and done good work for him, but only so long as he wasn't attached to his work. With emotions that strong, as much as he wanted to see where he would go, he couldn't allow it. Not anymore.

"Too bad!" he laughed, with a snap of his fingers the bird was back in his own bed Kingdoms away from here. With any luck he would know to keep his mouth shut. He'd hate for the family to lose their King and their Prince all at once.

[if-you-fan-a-fire]

“Whatever its precise location, the Tumulus of Midas was but one point in a vast dominion associated with Midas by landmarks from southeastern Phrygia to western Macedonia. The most widespread tradition in the geography of Midas concerns the location of the spring where Midas captured Seilenus (or “the satyr,” sometimes identified as Marsyas). The most famous spring to be associated with Midas and the capture of Seilenus was at Celaenae (later Apamea), at the headwaters of the Maeander River, where both Xerxes and Cyrus the Younger paused on their marches across Phrygia. Callisthenes reports that Midas founded an altar to Zeus at Celaenae, for this was where his son Anchyrus had plunged into a chasm in the earth. Sositheus, a tragedian of the third century b.c.e., describes Celaenae as Midas’ capital, and as the place where the body of Midas’ other son, Lityerses, was flung into the Maeander River. Another spring of Midas and Seilenus was at Thymbrium, east of Celaenae, where it was visited by Xenophon on his way with Cyrus from Phrygia toward Cilicia. Yet another was located at Ancyra (modern Ankara), a city said to have been founded by Midas and visited by Alexander. Farthest from these central Anatolian sites was the spring in Macedonia at the foot of Mount Bermium, where the Macedonian royal dynasty originated, according to a tradition familiar to Herodotus. This was very likely at the site of the Nymphaeum at Mieza, where Aristotle later tutored Alexander in the arts of rulership and in metaphysical matters, and where, as some have suggested, Aristotle made Alexander mindful that he was heir to a kingship that had once belonged to Midas. Ancient historians who recalled the landmarks of Midas, as the foregoing examples show, did so on occasions when these were visited by men seeking to establish or extend sovereignty. The most famous such pilgrimage of power was Alexander’s encounter with the Gordian Knot. The knot itself belonged to the cart that Midas dedicated to Zeus the King, on what was reputed to be the site of Midas’ palace at Gordium. Whether by sword stroke or by more patient means, Alexander was reputed to have undone the knot that held the yoke onto the tongue of this cart, thereby fulfilling a local prophecy that he who undid the knot would rule Asia, or, according to the alternative version, would rule the inhabited world (oikoumene). Midas, in this instance, was clearly the paradigm of worldly rulership. All of the monuments and landmarks associated with Midas were places for contemplation, and possibly ceremonial acknowledgment, for those who sought sovereignty. They betokened the outermost limits of greatness. They were also reminders that those with the greatest wealth and power owed the greatest sacrifices to assure the well-being of their dominions. They also signified, in a mythopoeic manner, the attributes of sovereignty as the personal attributes of Midas. Midas’ kingship was thus the origin and basis of agriculture, according to the legend of Lityerses. And Midas’ kingship was the source of the gold that the earth of Asia yielded, in the Pactolus River at Sardis. For Midas’ personal attribute, the golden touch that was his gift or curse from the gods, was either washed off him by the Pactolus, or transferred to that stream after his death.   In sum, Midas was remembered as a man who had achieved everything men could dream of, and had won everlasting fame. Although certain elements of the legend of Midas, as told by the Greeks, made a farce of his grandeur, the farce was only a reminder that Midas, like every other human being, was mortal in the end. The epigram on his tomb described the forces of nature as reminders of his former greatness. Midas’ more widespread monuments were springs and rivers, and even beds of reeds that whispered his name in the wind. One could say that the memory of Midas had become a feature of the natural landscape.” - Mark Munn, The Mother of the Gods, Athens, and the Tyranny of Asia: A Study of Sovereignty in Ancient Religion. University of California Press, 2006. pp. 71-73.

[treatian]

The Chronicles of the Dark One:  The Dark Curse

Chapter 78: Useful Information

He should have known. He could have guessed, the moment that Nimue had told him a Dark One had tracked the potion he needed to Oz, it should have been unfailingly obvious that it would be with Zelena. How could it not be? That girl spent all her time in the Emerald City, in the palace that had been built by the Wizard, who had collected magical artifacts to use with others. Naturally, the Elixir of the Wounded Heart would have been with him. Or rather it had been until Zelena turned him into a flying monkey. Now the Elixir was in her possession. He hadn't a clue if she even knew what she truly possessed, but he knew one thing…he couldn't go after it himself.

Zelena was smart, she was a clever little witch, and though they'd been moved she'd had those shoes in her possession long enough to do who knew what with him. Even if she hadn't planned on despising him and leaving the day that they'd parted ways, he trusted that her castle was fortified against him. He trusted that if he appeared in that realm, she would know about it and have none of it. No, she couldn't kill him, but he also couldn't risk her finding out the reason that he was there. If he wasn't successful, then she'd protect that potion with her life, and he'd never see it…if it was even necessary. Nimue had said that the issue with his heart going black was a risk, but one that was a long way away. He didn't even know if he'd ever come to truly need it in his lifetime.

Still, he'd searched through the bobbles and instructions that Jefferson had left him and found only one way into the Land of Oz. It was a single potion that when sloshed onto a mirror would take the individual to the room of doors they'd encountered when they'd gone to the Land Without Color. This meant that it wasn't a direct line to Oz; it was simply a direct line to any realm someone wished to go to. That made the potion highly valuable. Was this really what he was willing to waste it on?

No, he wasn't. At least not at first. It would be years, Nimue had said, and so he'd begun to bother himself with other things, like master the use of the fairy wand he'd acquired so long ago. But while Nimue had said the change to his heart was not a threat, it was clear that one of the Dark Ones disagreed. The moment he'd made up his mind not to use the potion, he'd felt that sting across his chest once more. He'd diverted the magic, used his own to chase it away. But someone in his head was playing tricks on him, and every time he got too involved in doing something else, the pain would spike. Clearly, someone disagreed with the great Nimue, and they were sending him the message the only way they could, but who was it? If he knew who he could talk to them himself and not just through Nimue! He could search through memories and materials, it would give him a hint! But when he tried to isolate a voice, come up with the name of the Dark One he should speak to about the pain, none arrived, and he was certain that if he talked to Nimue again, she'd give him the same answer. That left him with one option. He had to send someone for the cordial. It was the only way he'd get peace and be able to work.

So who was he to send? Well, the most straightforward answer was the least likely at the moment. Jefferson. He could talk to Jefferson, the boy still had his hat, he could simply have him go and retrieve it, and then he'd have no use for the potion at all.

But he couldn't. He'd been watching Jefferson ever since he'd left to go to his wife and new baby. Six months ago, his wife had died. He'd been left alone with his daughter, and his mental state…it was dark. He watched him enough to know that when he was with his daughter, his face lit up brighter than the sun, but the moment she was asleep, he hung his head, he cried, he surrendered to a different kind of mad darkness. He considered asking the old fellow to help, even wondered if it might give him a sense of purpose again, but as he watched him sit by the fireplace one night, head in his hands, shoulders hunched…he couldn't bring himself to do it. It had been years since Jefferson had gone to Oz, even then, he'd had issues with Zelena and the Wizard, now he was grieving and out of practice. Maybe one day he'd be fit for service again, but at the moment he was far from the ideal candidate.

He needed someone else. Someone talented enough to sneak into Oz undetected, fetch the cordial, and bring it back. He needed someone who could be bought, someone desperate enough that they might try something crazy.

"Show me the one I need," he ordered his glass ball one night when he'd been fiddling with his potions and felt the tug on his heart again. The image that appeared before him was of a boy, someone he'd never seen before. He was handsome, golden locks that he was sure women would swoon over. He appeared to be at a pub, sitting alone, nursing an ale. As he idly twisted the cup in front of him, he could make out the image of a lion tattoo on his wrist. Interesting, though he wore an apron, there was a hint of something more to him. But what was it?

He gasped.

He felt his hand automatically clutch the crystal ball in his hand, ensuring that he wouldn't drop it, but then surrendered himself to the inevitable. This was a vision. One of the future but the very near future.

Tomorrow.

It would happen tomorrow.

As soon as he knew it, he registered the fact that he was seeing back inside that pub his mystery man had been sitting in. That very man was now working the bar, pouring ale, getting drinks, but also listening to a man who was sitting there.

John, the Seer whispered in his ear. Little John.

Looking the man over, he suddenly had a new definition for the word irony.

"I have a fresh lead," the man stated to his potential thief. "King Midas's carriage is passing through town tomorrow, and he'll only have a few of his guards with him."

"You know I haven't so much as lifted a penny since Marian and I got married," the man retorted. "Look around. This is my new life."

"But you're not a barkeep…you're a thief."

Ah yes, his potential thief was gaining more and more of that potential every moment. And now he had a name for the wife. Marian. That was useful information.

But before he could contemplate the importance of that, the vision shifted. The pub he was in was suddenly very quiet. And his thief was talking to a man dressed in black clothes. A guard…one of Regina's? It was the right color. That gave him a potential location, somewhere in Regina's Kingdom.

"Well, I had to see this for myself," the guard stated in a mocking tone. "Robin of Locksley walking the straight and narrow. Nice apron. M'lady…"

Suddenly the vision was filled with a pretty woman, olive skin and dark hair, who appeared less than excited to see the man before her. He on the other hand was very excited. Robin of Locksley and his wife Marian. Not only did he have their names but also a location. Locksley located just north of Sherwood Forest and certainly a part of Regina's Kingdom.

That was all valuable information, but he could feel his chest squeezing now for a reason far different than his heart problems. He'd be damned if he forced this vision to end now. He wanted every last detail of it. Even the unamused "Sheriff" reply the woman gave was informative.

It told him she detested him with every bone in her body.

"What can I do for you, Nottingham?" Robin questioned, pulling the guard's attention off of his wife. It was a very telling kind of attention he'd been paying her. The kind that made his own stomach curdle. He may have been the Dark One, but at least he had a moral standard he'd never sink below, unlike this fellow.

"What can you do for me?" the Sheriff asked, helping himself to some ale. "Well, for starters, your taxes are overdue."

There was a bang. In his head, he saw someone pound a notice into the door. Tax notice. More useful information.

"I need time," the man insisted.

"Well, because I'm in a generous mood, I'm giving you two days. After that, I'll have no choice but to shutter your tavern and throw you in debtor's prison. And poor old Marian here will have no arms to hold her but mine."

"She'd never be with you," Robin growled, staring at the man.

"I can speak for myself," Marian insisted. "I'd never be with you," she stated, looking at the Sheriff with even more disgust than he'd thought was possible to muster.

"Well, when you are on the street, and your husband is in jail, perhaps you'll see my appeal."

"I'll find your money. Somehow."

"Really? Two days."

He pulled himself out of his vision with a smile. This conversation hadn't happened yet. Tomorrow afternoon it would, and then the countdown would begin. In three days, he'd have his potion.