A/N: This is a joint Pizza Hut Challenge of Ladybug Oblivion and Rally, conceived in a day not in Pizza Hut but in Panera Bread, T.G.I. Friday's and in a brief bout before the movie at MJR Theater.
Disclaimer/Warnings: We don't own, nor will we ever own Mobile Suit Gundam Wing or any of its characters. They are owned by Bandai, Sunrise and Sotsu Agency. Pairings are completely a secret until a later date. There will be no spoilers or intentional character bashing, but there will be some violence, a little shonen-ai (which means boys kissing boys so, if you don't like that take a hike!), a dash of OOC-ness, a lot of AU-ness, potentially a ton of humor and a likable Relena (you heard me!). And yes, it's based on Swan Lake. That's Lady O's fault. The Relena thing is Rally's.
That morning had started out like any other. Relena and Heero had broken camp and followed the road to the next town. The village's name was Smithton, by way of more than three-quarters of the villagers were of the Smith family. It was a broken down old place that, according to what Relena had managed to gather, never once housed an actual Smithy. They hit town (by town see: the local pub) at the strangely convenient hour of noon. The duo took a few moments to have lunch and then split up, covering the crowded room with practiced ease. Heero headed for the biggest table of men in the room, while Relena hit the barkeep.
The Barkeep was a grizzled old woman with beady eyes and a huge hooked nose that sported a hairy mole at the very tip. Her brownish hair sat in limp, greasy clumps on her crooked shoulders. She grinned as Relena approached, displaying a mouthful of decaying teeth. The princess smiled back, vowing not to breathe through her nose until she was far, far away from the foul woman.
"Good Afternoon, Goodwife."
The woman nodded and growled some sort of reply that may have been, "Afternoon," but could just have easily been, "Bugger Off!"
"I was wondering if you could do me a service?"
"Don' do nuffin' fer free, young 'un." Funny, how that response was intelligible.
Relena avoided rolling her eyes through sheer will alone and threw on her "stupid rich girl" outfit. She blushed a pretty shade of pink, covered her mouth delicately with her fingers and giggled. "Oh, forgive me, Goodwife. I do have some money if that is what you require, but my escort and I are so far from home and I'm afraid that we are quite lost." She placed one silver coin on the bar. It was probably more money than this wretch of a woman had seen in her lifetime. "This is all I have for now, but I assure you that my daddy will reward you handsomely if you would assist me in finding my way home."
The Barkeep's hand slapped down and snatched up the coin before Relena could change her mind. She'd taken the bait. Not that Relena had any doubts. "Where's yer da live?"
"Oh, goodness. I'm not sure. We've been heading north, you see, but we just can't seem to find it."
"Name th' town, gel!"
"Oh," Relena exclaimed trying to appear both surprised and a little put off and not tired and impatient. Which she was. Acting like a nitwit was hard work. "Adamsburry. Daddy lives in Adamsburry." She had chosen Adamsburry only because it was a fairly large city north of their current location.
"Adamsburry," the woman mused. "That's north o' us, fer sure. Jes keep on th' road ya been on. Now, 'bout a 'alf a day from 'ere's a fork. Ya want th' lef' path, no' th righ'. Th' lef' one'll ge' ya ta Adamsburry in 'bout three weeks. Remember wha' e'er ya do, don' take th' righ' path."
"What happens if we take the road to the right?"
"Aside from gettin' lost ag'in?" Relena nodded. "'orrible thin's down tha' road, lass. 'orrible." The woman shuttered. "A man wha' follows th' path inta th' fores' sure ta never be seen or 'eard from ag'in."
"Forest?"
"Aye, young 'un. They say there used t'be a 'uge castle in the middle of tha' fores'. Th' castle was owned by a terrible ogre who caught fairies ta do 'is evil biddin'. It's e'en said tha' 'e caught a water goddess an' trapped 'er in the lake."
"Uh, lake?"
"Aye, lake. A 'uge crystal clear 'un. S'pposed t'be cold as ice all summer long, too."
In Relena's opinion it was now a proven fact that if a bumpkin got started telling a local legend, story or superstition, there wasn't anything in the entire universe that could stop them before the tale was through. She stifled a sigh, stole chair from the nearest table and settled in till the end.
"You?" He began in monotone. "State your name and rank."
She popped the thumb out of her mouth. "Siw! Mewwiwethew Eva-Eva-Evaween Smif! Civviwen! Siw!" Thumb was promptly popped back in.
Heero was somewhat impressed. For some odd reason, most children will, at best, start crying whenever he addressed them. At worst, they'd run off screaming. "Miss Merriweather, I have been informed that you have information regarding the 'Forest of the Lost' as you locals call it."
Thumb out. "Siw! Yes, Siw!" Thumb in.
"Good." Heero's state had been upgraded to very impressed. "I need road maps marking all possible entrances and exits, topographical layouts, weather reports for the next six days and—if possible—a list of all native wildlife, including game trails and demonstrations of birdcalls."
Thumb out. "Siw! Can do! Siw!" Thumb in.
Doubt began to creep its way in. After all she was just a three year, four month old child, but if the girl said she had it covered, Heero was willing to give her the benefit of the doubt. "I'm also going to need to know everything you know about what's going on in that forest."
Thumb out. "Siw! Yes, Siw!" But wait, no thumb back in. Instead, she huddled over the stuffed doll for a few seconds whispering incoherently. "Siw! Mr. Thurston Hargreaves IV said that there's a pwincess twapped by a dwagon. The dwagon chases hew awound to twy to eat hew." Thumb back in.
Dragon? Princess? Neither of these had come up in any of the prior reports on the forest. And Mr. Thurston Hargreaves the Fourth? There were also no indications of nobility taking up residency in Smithton. "Who is this Mr. Hargreaves and is he a reliable source of this information?"
The thumb didn't immediately pop back out. Miss Merriweather crossed her eyes and then gave her thumb a couple of hard sucks, apparently taking a moment to consider the question. Eyes uncrossed. Thumb out. "Siw! Mr. Thurston Hargreaves IV is a vewy, vewy weliabew sowce. He has tea an' cwumpets wif the pwincess fwee times a week an' sometimes on Satewday. Siw!"
Highly confusing. Almost vexing. The information just wasn't lining up correctly according to Heero's mental report form. According to his information, which he'd be the first to admit did come from a load of drunkards, the forest was a place that was one could to get into, but could never leave. Such a lonely place. Hmm... Sounded like it needed to be written into a song.
Heero shook his head, feeling his own eyes uncross. Focus, Yuy, focus. "Right. How much time do you need to recon, gather your sources and get back with me."
Thumb out. "Siw! It's aweady finished! Siw!" Another pause on the thumb return. Miss Merriweather reached into the pocket of the bear's jumper, pulled out a folded up slip of paper and then handed it to Heero. Thumb in.
Heero accepted the parcel, despite the generous coating of Miss Merriweather's saliva. That was fast. "Thank you," he managed, past his amazement. "You are dismissed."
Thumb out. "Siw! Yes, Siw!" She gave a sharp salute, popped her thumb back in her mouth, turned on her heel and was off. Heero saluted the retreating figure.
"I don't know about you, but I see nothing out of the ordinary here. And the most menacing thing I saw when I was in there was a fly being devoured by a spider. Are we really going to go through with this one, Heero? Those people were all complete wackos."
Heero gave her his mission face. "We owe it to the Prince to check out every possible lead and I have it on the highest authority that there is definitely some sort of curse based at the center of this forest."
"That reminds me," said Relena, turning to face the forest again, "Who was your source anyway?"
Heero opened his mouth, probably to reply that he prefers to keep his sources confidential, but nothing ever came out. A warcry cut through the tranquility of the evening.