scout_lover | Fic: Once Upon a Time, Part 10/11 (Reply)

Title: Once Upon a Time

Betas: ella_bee, trappercreekd, valawenel

Characters/Pairings: Eliot/Parker (though nothing explicit), Nate, Sophie, Hardison, Sterling, Quinn, Archie, Cora, Bonanno, Father Paul … and a cast of thousands. Or at least tens.

Rating: PG13

Disclaimer: Not mine, making no money. I write only from a sad, fannish devotion to the characters created by John Rogers, Chris Downey, Dean Devlin and the amazing writers of Leverage

Genre: AU

Warnings/spoilers: strong language, some violence (dude, swords!). Also, anachronisms abound.

Word Count: 36,000

Summary: Once upon a time, in the fair land of Lévèrage, things really weren't all that fair at all

AN 1: This is set roughly in the Middle Ages. I say roughly because I have, *ahem*, cheated on language, history, social systems, geography … hell, everything. Think of this as Disneyfied Middle Ages.

AN 2: Many, many thanks to ultra_fic for creating a piece of art that took over my brain and forced (FORCED, I say) me to create this world. This became so much bigger than I ever anticipated, but I sort of fell in love with the world she inspired. So the fic that ate the internet is ALL. HER. FAULT. That's my story and I'm stickin' to it. ;P

AN 3: Many, many thanks also to my betas - ella_bee, trappercreekd and valawenel - who waded into this sucker and have labored with endless patience to make it better. All mistakes, naturally, remain mine

Link to art: Here

Parker sat huddled in one corner of her cell, her legs folded against her chest and her arms wrapped around them, and tried not to let her fear overwhelm her. She'd been treated well enough - Olivia had come down earlier, bringing blankets and a large flagon of cool water and making certain she'd had enough to eat - but that didn't change the fact that she was here.

And she was alone.

She knew there were guards somewhere, but Olivia had seemed to think it wrong or unfitting that they stand close watch upon her and had ordered them into the outer chamber, assuring them the prisoner was locked securely in her cell. Which, of course, was ridiculous. Parker had picked that lock hours ago and could leave her cell any time she wished.

She just didn't know where to go. She'd never been in the castle before, had no idea of its layout or which way led to freedom. She'd tried to pay attention as they'd dragged her down here, but there'd been so many twists and turns, and she'd been so upset, that her natural sense of direction had deserted her. She knew only that she was underground - she could tell by the smell and feel of the air - in some deep, dark heart of a confusing labyrinth.

She tightened her arms around her legs. Long years ago, before he'd left, Eliot had told a story of a young hero who'd gone into a labyrinth to kill an evil man-bull and free a kingdom from its terror. She'd stood and listened enthralled, sunshine falling over the meadow in waves and butterflies dancing about her, as he'd spun his tale to no one in particular … and just for her. His words had brought the story to life, and at the end, when he'd taken up his sword and acted out killing the evil man-bull, she'd clapped her hands and cheered, badly startling them both.

She still remembered his eyes as he'd stared at her, so bright and blue, and the proud and happy smile that had lit his entire face. She'd thought him the equal, or better, of any hero in any story, the finest boy she'd ever seen.

She smiled at the memory and finally lay down upon the blankets Olivia had brought for her, covering herself and curling into a small, tight ball. Sounds echoed eerily through the vast expanse of the dungeon, empty save for her, but she pillowed her head upon her arm and closed her eyes, no longer afraid.

The boy she'd cheered that day in the meadow no longer existed, and hadn't for a very long time. But the man who'd taken his place did, and though he thought himself tarnished and battered beyond repair, she knew better.

He still shone as brightly as ever in her eyes. And tomorrow he'd come and get her.

Sterling stood in the courtyard with his men behind him and Quinn, battered and bruised but upright, beside him, and stared at the heavy main gate as it slowly began to rise. The missive he'd received last evening had been damnably vague - under the customs and laws of Lévèrage … the rights and privileges of freemen … redress certain grievances and issues of offense … the matter of the young woman, Parker … - and he still had no real idea just who he was supposed to be meeting or why.

God damn these people and the jumped-up notions of justice and rights they'd gotten from that sot Nathan!

Quinn shifted uncomfortably at his side, grimacing deeply and groaning softly, and Sterling cast him a scornful look.

“I trust you will actually be able to lift your sword if called upon to defend my honor?” he asked bitingly.

Quinn glared at him. “I can do my job,” he seethed, then added under his breath, “fucker.”

Sterling heard it and rolled his eyes but said nothing. Perhaps Quinn's opinion would matter more if the man had actually proven competent enough to kill Eliot Spencer.

He returned his attention to the gate, smirking at the thought of the rabble that waited on the other side. They could protest all they want, but it would do them no good. His word was law here now. They'd been coddled and spoiled by Nathan, only to be abandoned by him. Well, it was time they learned how their world worked now. His smile grew as the gate rose higher. They had a new lord and a new law, and they would simply have to learn to live with it-

His thoughts tumbled to a halt as the gate finally rose high enough for him to see exactly who waited with their “grievances.” Constable Bonanno, of course, the merchant Archie Leach, naturally, Sophie Devereaux, or whoever she was claiming to be today … and mounted between them on a black horse and wearing the familiar bright blue surcoat emblazoned with the silver mailed arm and sword, Lord Nathan himself.

Others were there as well, but Sterling only had eyes for the man on the horse. Nathan looked almost as he ever had - tall, slim and slightly tousled, but as self-assured, as self-righteous, as ever.

The bastard.

“Well, that's unexpected,” Quinn quipped.

“Shut up,” Sterling snapped, realizing with a sinking feeling that this day just might not go entirely the way he'd planned. Damn it.

And damn Nathan Ford.

His irritation only deepened when, without waiting for an invitation, Nathan spurred his horse through the gate and led his mob into the courtyard. The king of fools and his rabble army. Except that, besides Nathan and Bonanno, no one seemed armed.

Strange.

“Hello, Nate,” Sterling greeted.

“Sterling,” the man returned, sounding vaguely bored. “You have one of my people here. Parker. I've come to get her back.”

“Have you now?” Sterling asked. “By what means?”

Nathan shrugged lazily and smiled. “By whatever means it takes. Where is she?”

“Locked up in a cell,” Sterling said tersely. “Where all thieves belong.” He glanced over the mob accompanying Nathan and noticed one startling absence. “Where's Spencer?” he asked, suddenly suspicious. “Or did Quinn manage to kill him after all?”

Nathan chuckled quietly. “Oh, no, he's still very much alive. But I thought it safer to leave him behind. For your sake,” he added pointedly, then smiled. “It's amazing what skills twenty years of war will give a man. And he seemed determined to use them all on you.”

Sterling swallowed hard, but refused to give any other sign of his sudden unease. Still, he glanced aside at Quinn. “You were supposed to take care of him.”

Quinn stared back. “That's not quite as easy as you make it sound. But I'll tell you what. Next time, you can try, and we'll see how that goes.”

Sterling ground his teeth. “Perhaps I'll just reconsider what I'm paying you!” he snarled.

“Gentlemen?” Nathan cut in. “Back to Parker?”

Sterling scowled at Quinn a few moments longer, then returned his attention to Nathan. “I told you,” he said harshly, “she's a thief. I caught her-”

“That's what we're here to discuss,” Nate cut in. He swung down from the saddle and strode forward, smiling at Sterling. “It's a warm day,” he said easily. “Let's go inside. It should be nice and cool in my hall-”

“My hall,” Sterling corrected through clenched teeth.

But Nathan only smiled more broadly and clapped him on the shoulder as he passed. “That's something else we'll talk about. Gentlemen?”

And Sterling had no choice but to follow.

“Hardison, do you have any idea where we're going?” Eliot asked as they rounded yet another corner and started down yet another passageway.

The two of them had split off from Nathan and his party in the castle's outer courtyard, before going through the inner gate, and circled around the curtain wall that protected the main part of the castle, following the route used by wagons bringing in provisions. They'd found the entrance to the alehouse and slipped inside, following it into the kitchens and then ever further into the interior of the castle.

They'd been winding around and down ever since, down passageways that all looked exactly the same. Hell, for all Eliot knew they were the same, and they'd simply been walking in circles.

But Hardison stopped abruptly and turned to face him, looking gravely offended. “Of course I know where we're going!” he insisted firmly. “I have a map!”

Eliot groaned and bowed his head, raising a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Please tell me you didn't draw this one,” he begged.

“You need to let that pilgrim map go,” Hardison said. “Considering I have never set foot in the Holy Land, it's pretty damned accurate-”

“It's all wrong,” Eliot reminded him.

“It's not that wrong-”

“It's all wrong!” Eliot snapped, lifting his head and glaring at the younger man. “Completely wrong! Now, tell me this map is better!”

Hardison lifted his chin and folded his arms against his chest. “It's better,” he said airily. “And you need to have some faith in your fellow man.”

Eliot stepped forward and jabbed a finger into Hardison's chest. “Get me to Parker, or I will kill you with your own map,” he ground out. “Do you understand me?”

Hardison sighed and shook his head. “You didn't sleep much last night, did you? 'Cause you are testy. Even for you. And that is saying something.”

“Hardison, I swear to God-”

“Seriously, Eliot, you need to calm down,” Hardison warned, studying him with some concern. “After all that blood you lost yesterday, and then not sleeping last night, you don't need to be wasting your strength threatening me when-”

“Hardison!”

He sighed sharply and rolled his eyes. “Fine,” he muttered grudgingly, turning back around. “This way. And before you ask for the eighteenth time, yes, I am sure.” He held up a hand with a rolled-up parchment. “I have a map.”

And Eliot wondered just how pissed Lord Nathan would be if he left Hardison's body down in these tunnels.

To his surprise, however, this map did seem accurate, and after a truly baffling series of twists and turns, they emerged at what Hardison assured him was the detention area - a large outer chamber with a stout wooden door leading to two interior cells.

“Two?” Eliot asked in disbelief. “Only two?”

Hardison stared back at him. “I guess Lord Nathan didn't plan on taking many prisoners,” he retorted.

They listened but didn't hear any voice. Creeping closer, Eliot chanced a glance into the chamber, and was startled to see no sign of any guards. His instincts at high alert, he drew his sword silently and stepped into the chamber, confused to find it truly empty and the door to the cells ajar. Waving Hardison forward, he went to the door, braced for attack and opened it abruptly-

Only to find a guard lying unconscious on the floor and Parker sitting in the middle of her cell, the door wide open.

Eliot stared in confusion at the scene before him. “Parker?”

She shot to her feet and left the cell, nudging the guard with a toe as she went. “He kept locking the door,” she explained. “I finally had to knock him out to make him leave it alone.” She suddenly darted forward and launched herself into Eliot's arms without warning. “I knew you'd come!”

He gasped in pain and staggered as she jarred his injuries, but immediately tightened his arms about her, not caring at all just now how much holding her hurt. “Of course I came,” he breathed, burying his face in her golden hair. “What else was I gonna do?”

Nathan barely suppressed a shudder as he entered the great hall, feeling as if a black and heavy chill were pressing against him. He hadn't been in here since Maggie had left him, had fled this place as soon as she'd gone, unable to endure alone the memories of his dead son that haunted every passageway and chamber.

This had been Sam's home …

Suddenly Sophie was at his side, her hand wrapping around his and holding tightly, her warmth just enough to keep the ghosts at bay. For now. But he knew once he left this place today, he'd never be coming back.

He smiled down at her to reassure her, touched by the worry in her dark eyes, then, determined to make a point, gently freed his hand from hers and walked to the large chair at the end of the hall and sat down without invitation, not missing the anger that crossed Sterling's face.

Let him seethe.

He sat back and crossed one leg over the other. “So, Parker,” he said simply. “We both know you have no right to hold her, so you might as well let her go now and save us both a lot of arguing.”

“I have every right!” Sterling insisted hotly, stopping just before the chair and lifting his chin to meet Nathan's stare. “I caught her red-handed-”

“Stealing what?” Nate cut in.

Sterling gaped, clearly startled by the question, hen frowned and shook his head. “Excuse me?”

Nathan sighed and rolled eyes. “What … did … she … steal?” he asked very slowly and very clearly, as if dealing with an imbecile.

Sterling ground his teeth and clenched his hands into fists. “You know perfectly well-”

“No, I don't,” Nathan said. “You keep saying you 'caught her,' but you don't say with what. And don't tell me it was anything of Oscar San Guillermo's, because we both know that you gave him everything he had in the hope that Parker would steal it. Which, I might add, she didn't.” He arched two brows. “Am I right so far?”

“She's a thief!” Sterling spat. “You know it, I know it, everyone knows it!” He whirled abruptly to face Bonanno. “And you know it! Why you haven't arrested her before now-”

“Because no one's ever been able to prove anything,” the constable said reasonably. “No one's ever seen her steal anything, much less caught her at it. And many times the things she's been accused of stealing have turned up later.” He shrugged and folded his arms against his chest. “I can't arrest her without some kind of evidence.” He stared at Sterling. “That would be wrong.”

“She's a thief,” Sterling said again. He turned to Archie. “He's a thief. He raised her and trained her. His shop is filled with things they've stolen over the years-”

“Please,” Archie said coldly, inclining his head regally. “Why in the world would I be foolish enough to display stolen goods in my shop? Unless you can prove any of this, I demand you cease making these ridiculous accusations.”

Sterling sputtered angrily for a moment. He knew as well as anyone there was no proof. Except-

“Then what was she doing in the coach?” he asked quietly, turning back to Nathan. “For what possible reason would a girl like Parker climb into a perfect stranger's coach, unless she intended to steal?”

Nathan thought a moment, then shrugged and admitted, “I don't know. Parker's always been a difficult one to understand.” He stared at Sterling and arched a brow. “Then again, what were you doing in that coach?”

Sterling smiled thinly. “Guarding it,” he said evenly. “I'd heard there were thieves in the vicinity.”

Nathan exhaled sharply and shook his head, his patience at an end. “You set a trap for her,” he said harshly, his gaze boring into Sterling. “You used San Guillermo and his ridiculous display of wealth to bait that trap, and then, before she had time to do anything, you locked her in that coach and brought her here. She didn't steal anything,” he said angrily. “She didn't have time!”

“That girl-”

“That girl is innocent,” Nathan went on ruthlessly. “You, however-” He narrowed his eyes and gave a cold, thin smile. “Ah, your crimes are very real.”

“My c- What the bloody hell are you talking about?” Sterling thundered. “What crimes?”

“Well, there's kidnapping,” Bonanno said. “Enticing Parker into your coach and then spiriting her away from town against her will-”

“You don't have to say it like that,” Sterling groused. “You make it sound unseemly.”

“Extortion,” Nathan went on. “Or, rather, paying others, men like Doyle, to extort money for you. Usurping my authority to make laws and using soldiers to enforce them, usurping Constable Bonanno's authority. And theft of land.”

A harsh cry of outrage exploded from Sterling, and he spun around to face Constable Bonanno. “He can't possibly be serious-”

But the constable shrugged. “He sounds serious to me.”

Sterling turned back to Nathan. “And just what land have I stolen?”

Nathan held up a hand and waved it to take in the hall. “Does this look familiar?” he sniped.

Sterling inhaled sharply, then narrowed his eyes and frowned in thought. Nate almost smiled. Give the man enough time and he'd think of an answer for everything.

“You abandoned these lands, and this castle-”

“But never sold,” Nate reminded him. “And you never asked. You simply took possession. That, I believe, is theft.”

Sterling stared at him for long moments, studying him, then smirked. “Fine,” he said with dry amusement. “Stop all this ridiculous posturing about the law and just tell me what you want.”

Part 11