A simple crock pot dump dinner with no prep and no extra dishes dirtied! Five minute prep time.
The instructions:
Grease crock pot
Brown sausage or ground beef (or substitute sausage links)*
Mince 4 garlic cloves*
Dump frozen tortellini, canned tomatoes, spaghetti sauce, chicken broth, sausage links, garlic, basil, condensed milk, shredded cheese, and chicken broth into crock pot
Stir**
Cook on low heat 4-6 hours
*Note: these two steps weren't included in the recipe, because if you don't have ADHD you can manifest already-browned ground beef and already-minced garlic cloves from the aether using your executive function telekinesis.
**Note: "Stir" was listed as part of the same step as "dump" in the recipe, because if you don't have ADHD your executive function telekinesis can stir the ingredients in mid-air as you're dumping them in.
The reality:
Haul out the crock pot; congratulate yourself on remembering where you stuffed it
Lube up crock pot with olive oil; discover something burned crusted inside one corner. You have too much ADHD to typically try crock pot recipes so this is from the roommate that recently moved out, but ex-roommate also has ADHD so this is still an expected stage of the "cooking with ADHD" process.
Try to scrub out the burned flakes without removing the greasing up you've already applied to the rest of the pot
Lube up the formerly burned corner.
Wash off greasy hands
Tear open frozen tortellini bag; dump it in. Congratulate yourself on how smoothly this is going.
Pick up the canned tomatoes
Grab the can opener Search for the can opener in the kitchen tools drawer
Search the utensils drawer
Search the pens & matches & leftover expired sunglasses from the solar eclipse drawer
Search the pot holders drawer
Search the shelf with the canned sauces left behind when your roommate left because sometimes you stick kitchen tools next to the food item that needs the tool, for ADHD reasons
Try to remember whether, when roommate moved out and you split up the kitchen supplies, a can opener was included amongst the supplies bequeathed to you
Realize with the weariness born of long experience that you're about to have An Adventure
Comfort yourself with the knowledge that this will at least make a funny tumblr post
Make mental note to include friendly shout-out to ex-roomie so when they read this they know you don't resent them for taking the can opener(s), something you should have thought to ask about yourself, and also something you would have discovered sooner if not for the fact that you have too much ADHD to typically try recipes that involve opening a can
Inspect the rim keeping the lid on the tomato can
Squeeze the sides near the top hoping perhaps you can just pop it off like Popeye; slightly dent can
Optimistically try to pry the lid off with your fingernails, knowing in your heart that cans were designed the way they were specifically to prevent the lid being removed by such flimsy tools but remembering some kind of youtube video about the the way the rims of cans are rolled over each other.
Google "open can without can opener" while aiming the evil eye at the search results to ward off useless AI sites that spend 1000 words droning about situations when someone might want a can opener before poorly paraphrasing other people's advice
Click on Wikihow with relief
Realize the sink's been running since before step 1 because you're trying to wash off a really gross spoon that was in the fridge with cheese on it for about a week; observe the spoon, nudge it back under the stream, and decide it could use a little more rinsing so you don't have to touch it.
Scroll past "rub a spoon's edge over the weak metal until it wears through," looks too time-consuming
Scroll past "stab lid with knife," looks like too much effort
Scroll past "rub lid on concrete to wear off the metal," you already know that one and you're not THAT desperate
stop at "stab lid with the back corner of a chopping knife," shrug in defeat. You're gonna need to dirty a chopping knife to slice up the sausage anyway.
Stab lid with the back corner of a chopping knife Attempt to stab lid with back corner of a chopping knife; conclude it's too much effort and you're more likely to slip and lose a finger
Attempt to rub spoon through lid; conclude it's even less likely to get through
Suddenly remember with glee that your swiss army knife has a can opener
Grab it from the Specific Spot it lives on the kitchen counter so you Never Ever Lose It Discover your army knife isn't in its Specific Spot
Vaguely search the shelf in the living room where tools sometimes congregate
Remember seeing the army knife on the bedside stand organizer you got to ensure you Never Ever Lose your glasses and ADHD meds
Walk to the farthest room at the very other end of the house
Find your army knife exactly where you thought it was, congratulate yourself; realize it's the LITTLE army knife
Check it for a can opener anyway
Realize you must have removed it from the counter a month or two ago (you don't remember how long due to The ADHD) when The Ants found a way into the kitchen from behind the dishwasher and you scrubbed down the entire counter with ant-repelling flower essential oils to curb the invasion.
Return to the kitchen; realize the sink is still running; decide the spoon could stand to rinse a little more.
Search the table that you meant to remove from the kitchen when you got a new table but that instead has become a Gathering Spot Of Stuff With No Home
Remember that the utensils used to be in the pantry for ADHD reasons
Search the pantry for a can opener; find nothing
Go to the other end of the house again and vaguely search the shelf by your computer desk where tools sometimes congregate
Five minute prep time.
Return to the kitchen and remember that you moved all the stuff from the counter to the other ant-free counter, three feet away from where you started.
Triumphantly locate swiss army knife
Flip open can opener attachment; realize blade is blunt; hopefully tell yourself that must be the bottle top opener.
Flip open the other can opener attachment; realize its blade is blunt as well
Nevertheless, watch a youtube video (from inside the DuckDuckGo search results instead of on youtube itself, because you have youtube blocked on your phone for 6 hours a day with an app you paid real money for to actually lock you OUT of distracting apps rather than merely pop up an easily-dismissible "teehee you shouldn't be on this app right now!" screen, because you have ADHD) on how to open a can with a swiss army knife can opener
Attempt to open can with blunt can opener.
Try the spoon again.
Resort to the "rub can's lid on concrete" technique; grab one of the bricks you got for free a few months ago for some kind of half-baked backyard project you haven't started yet and that's been sitting in the kitchen nook ever since.
Discover that the can is sanding down the brick faster than the brick is sanding down the can; also discover that the lid's acquired a tomato juice-dripping puncture half the size of a vampire bite, but that was probably thanks to the can opener
Wash off the can so that when you finally get it open, you don't get brick and metal shavings in the tomato juice
Five minute prep time.
Move the sausage from the counter into the fridge. You might be here a while.
Decide that you've tried this WikiHow's way; now you're trying it YOUR way. Go to the craft room where all your crafts have been packed in boxes since the last time you moved two years ago and haphazardly opened and strewn about whenever you need something specific.
Locate your toolbox exactly where you knew it was: sitting right in the middle of the floor. Convenient, easily visible.
Take your pliers from your toolbox Discover your pliers aren't in your toolbox.
Vaguely search the shelf next to your computer desk where tools congregate Spot the pliers on your desk on your way to the shelf; have no recollection of what you were doing with your pliers at your desk.
Return to kitchen with wrath in your heart
Start attempting to bend and wiggle the rim of the lid of the can a little at a time in hopes of it snapping off or something. You still vaguely recall that youtube video watched long ago about how cans are constructed.
Discover you've punched a hole through the side of the can when tomato juice starts dripping down your fingers
Try to pour juice into crock pot; get about eight drops
Begin to wonder if it would have just taken less time to drive 20 minutes to Target to buy a can opener
Resume going around the edge trying to pry off the lid. Experience only extremely moderate success
Attempt to pour more juice from the widening wound into the crock pot; get about four drops.
In frustration, jam the pliers into the hole you've already made and attempt to wrench it open wide enough to pour the tomatoes out
Peel off the wet wrapper around the hole
Repeat process 4-5 times until hole is big enough to free all tomatoes
Set the can aside in triumph
With the weariness of a World War I soldier preparing to march back into the trenches, set your eyes on the can of condensed milk
Go to rinse off your pliers so the milk isn't cross-contaminated with tomato juice; realize it doesn't matter because it's all going into the same crock pot
Experience 5 seconds of lost time and come back to reality to discover you're washing your pliers anyway even though you just decided not to. You have no recollection of this.
Continue to let the sink run, for the spoon. It could use it.
Start plying the rim of the condensed milk can; console yourself with the knowledge that at least this can be a much smaller hole since you're not trying to pour tomatoes out.
Punch a tiny hole in the side that drips all over you.
Try to pour can into crock pot; it's dripping out at a rate of 1 drop every 2 seconds.
Remind yourself yet again that at least this will make for a funny tumblr post
Attempt to widen hole. Really maul that one bit of the rim. Get more milk on your counter.
Attempt to pour again; suspect that it's dripping even slower now
Consider driving to Target again
Wonder how you've ended up with ten times as much milk on the counter than poured into the crock pot
Peel the wet wrapper from around the hole
In frustration, take out the screwdriver on your swiss army knife and jam it into the hole on the lid to wiggle it around and expand it
Pour the world's slowest stream of milk into the crock pot. Decide it's not worth it to try to expand the hole. Just wait for it to do its thing.
Realize that holding the can this high doesn't make the stream any faster but DOES make tiny drops splash outside the crock pot. Lower the can.
Shake it a bit.
Realize the sink's still running; decide to let it keep going, the spoon could use it.
Pour in the spaghetti sauce which came in a sensible glass jar with a twist lid
Pour in the chicken broth with sensible twist lids. Ruminate on the wisdom and convenience of twist lids
Add a tablespoon of dried basil
Try to remember the rough conversion rate of garlic cloves to pre-minced garlic, because you have ADHD and you're not about to mince your own garlic. You think it was one clove to one teaspoon. You would check, but the conversion you found was on reddit (after scrolling past a dozen AI sites) and you can't check it again because your app blocker keeps you out of reddit so you don't get distracted.
Add four teaspoons of pre-minced garlic
Dump in the shredded cheese; realize you didn't put it in the fridge with the sausage; decide it's fine, it's cheese, it hasn't been that long.
Five minute prep time.
Take sausage from fridge
Grab a plate to chop the sausage on
Slice open the package, dump out the sausage
Attempt to imitate the super fast chopping you see in cooking videos but when you do that the knife doesn't go all the way through the skin; reluctantly slow down
Once again, resentfully think about how many "one pot" "no prep" "dump dinner" crock pot recipes you've found that assume browning meat is a freebie action that magically takes zero time; wonder where people without ADHD magically find the spare time to complete tasks they've allotted 0 seconds for in their prep schedule
Muse that you probably could've browned half a cow's worth of ground beef in the time opening that tomato can took; remind yourself that if you actually had tried to brown your own beef, it would have probably turned into An Adventure as well.
Think to yourself that tumblr had damn well better enjoy your suffering because SOMEBODY here needs to
Dump sausage in crock pot
Nicely wipe the tomato juice and condensed milk splatters off the rim because a few weeks ago while looking for ADHD cleaning hacks you found the quote "you can wipe it now or you can scrub it later" and you're trying to incorporate that into your life.
Put the lid on at last
Plug it in scoot aside the detritus of the ingredients until you've made room to scoot the crock pot next to the power outlet
Plug it in
Set it to low heat and 6 hours
Check the clock; realize that it will finish cooking at the exact same time that you're supposed to be leaving for two and a half hours to pick up some free tiles you found on craigslist for the half-baked backyard project you haven't started yet; decide this is a logistics problem for future you
Throw away all the empty stuff that doesn't need to be rinsed.
Put the basil in the cutlery drawer, which is naturally where all the spices live because you always need to grab the forks, salt, and pepper at the same time
Realize the sink is still running; decide it wouldn't hurt to let it go a little longer
Put the minced garlic jar in the fridge; remove the last half-empty minced garlic jar that you THOUGHT you'd had, but you don't know when it was opened so you'd decided to get a new one anyway
Double-check to make sure there aren't any other leftover ingredients that need refrigerating because you don't want to have another Mayonnaise Incident (bought a big jar of lime mayo, used it once, accidentally left it on the counter in the spot where it had been sitting when it was unopened rather than refrigerate it, had to throw away the whole thing)
Tiredly tell yourself that you can wash the tomato juice and condensed milk off the counter later THE ANTS THE ANTS THE ANTS. Resolve to wash everything now so that you won't get another invasion.
Reluctantly pick up that spoon that's been soaking and scrub the rest of the cheese off with your thumb. It takes like twenty seconds. You could have cleaned it in twenty seconds at the start of all this.
Stick it in the dishwasher
Rinse out the glass tomato sauce jar and put it in the half of the sink dedicated to letting recyclables dry out.
As long as you're here, remove the actual dishes that are sitting in the half of the sink dedicated to recyclables that you put there when you made room to rinse the cheese spoon; put them in the dishwasher because you want to be able to give yourself an "emptied the sink" point in the gameified habit-tracking app you got for your ADHD (not to be confused with the life skills coaching habit-tracking app you got for your ADHD)
Bemoan the fact that you can't award yourself points this week for getting groceries on Monday because it's Friday. You were willing to let it go as far as Thursday and still award yourself credit but Friday's just too far.
Artfully arrange the cans and their "can openers" so you can take a picture of the carnage, because dammit you're getting SOMETHING out of this
Rinse out the tomato can and put it in the drying recyclables half of the sink
Direct a stream of water into the little hole on the condensed milk can; only realize your extremely predictable mistake when you try to drain it and the world's slowest stream of water pours out
Shake out the rest of the water and chuck the condensed milk can in the trash
Wash off the pliers
Wash the swiss army knife and all three extensions you tried to use even though only one was useful; tiredly recall that you didn't wash them off BEFORE opening the cans and decide you'll just live with that risk
Put your army knife in its Specific Spot where you'll Never Ever Lose It
Forget whether you've washed the pliers
Look at the pliers Accidentally look at your phone on the counter instead; your mind immediately ejects all thoughts like a bomber plane dumping its bombs and you stare blankly at the glowing screen, which isn't even displaying anything interesting, for at least ten seconds, trying to remember what you were looking at it for
Notice that there's condensed milk splashes on your phone; remember the pliers; check the pliers; remember you did wash them already
Wipe off your phone screen
Glance in the kitchen tools drawer while grabbing a paper towel, thinking about what a fool you would have just made of yourself if there is a can opener after all; be relieved to find no can opener
Wash off the counter; congratulate yourself on doing such a good job keeping the counter clean and the kitchen ant-free, except for that one time a week ago when one drop of orange chicken sauce fell on the counter without you noticing and you crushed four ant scouts before you managed to find what they were looking for. But other than that you're doing so good
Realize you didn't plan what you'll eat for lunch.
Casualties: 2 cans
Times I interrupted myself while writing this: 32
Verdict: remarkably low number of interruptions
The most deeply nested distraction-within-a-distraction Matryosha doll experienced while writing this: 4 (plus five separate 3-layer Matryosha distractions)
This includes remembering THE ANTS THE ANTS THE ANTS and going downstairs to toss the trash bag with the half-rinsed condensed milk can outside
This also includes two separate daily alarms I have set to deliberately disrupt my focus in case I've accidentally started hyperfocusing on a task I'm not supposed to be doing and one time tumblr got locked by my distracting-app-locking app
More important tasks I'm ignoring to write this post: 11
Casualties: 2 cans
Amount of time it took me to realize I mentioned the casualties twice and edit this post: 21 minutes
Not including writing this post, total prep time for the five-minute-prep-time dump dinner: one hour and twenty minutes.
Robin put a hand on her jaw, angling her upwards, trying to take charge, and she let him, she didn’t fight against him but moaned into his mouth instead. Robin gently bit her bottom lip before running his tongue across the same surface, the curiosity of what she tasted like nearly killed him. His hand brushed down her neck, trailing his fingers over her throat before he dug his hands into her curls-
Robin’s eyes shot open, who had he been kissing?
Colette opened her eyes, a complaint on her lips, but Robin had just enough of his mind in the present to save himself.
“You’re so beautiful.”
A smile curled onto her mouth and she kissed the corner of his mouth, moving along his jaw, her tongue shot out and licked his ear before she kissed his neck. Her hand traced up his thigh, dangerously close to his cock.
Robin’s hand shot out and grabbed her waist, pulling her into him, he breathed heavily, but not from Colette’s ministrations.
He was thinking about Maria while kissing another girl.
He ran his thumb across this woman’s ribs, the underside of her breast, but the heat she created wasn’t what he wanted. Robin could imagine the knit sweater in place of the velvet, how easily it would be to leave a mark on her soft skin. How beautiful she would look covered in bruises he had given her. She would kiss differently, however, she wouldn’t give in to him. She would hate letting him take over, she’d have something to prove.
The places Maria had touched felt more sensitive in his mind, but as Colette’s breath fanned over his ear, it felt strange and wet. Maria had been warm and welcomed, but Colette felt like a trespasser and his body seemed in the process of refusing her. It wasn’t enough. She wasn’t enough.
Well that had never happened before.
Maria’s kiss, untouched on the other side of his neck, had been hot and delicate, a drunken kiss yes, but one he couldn’t forget. Colette sucked on his skin, and he could imagine Maria biting him, after he’d teased her or challenged her in some way. It would be a punishment, and her aim would be to hurt him, but he’d love it, because he loved when she fought against him, he loved it when she was feisty and spirited. She’d bruise him too, she wouldn’t be satisfied until she had.
But when she was leaning on him in the stairwell she had been nearly desperate. She had to have felt some sort of attraction to him, and he must have fired her up in the same way. If he had been a lesser man, he would have let her kiss him, he would have let her take it farther. She would regret that, of course. But the first time Robin kissed Maria, he wanted her to be in her right state of mind, he wanted her choice to be one she wanted to make, and not just because she was drunk and he was there.
She pressed her palm against the front of his trousers and he groaned, “God, Maria.”
The Princess and the Rogue - A Secret of Moonacre Robin Hood AU
For @incorrect-quotes-of-moonacre, thank you for all the work you put into the fandom and Moonacre Week every year ❤️
[Read on AO3]
Chapter 1
Duke Phileas of Pheoston was not a bad dancer, but he was a quick one. Maria realized this as the man launched into yet another monologue about the recent bandit activity in the area, not noticing the fact that she almost tripped over her dress to keep up with him.
“... carriage, entirely empty! All the coachman could tell me is that the men wore masks, and one shot an arrow straight into his hat. Pinned it straight into the carriage! Truly, someone has to stop that savage, or I’ll have no jewels left to give you!”
He talked of Robin Hood, a thief who had been terrorizing Moonacre’s nobles for several months now, along with his crew of Merry Men. Maria had only been back from her time in the countryside a few days, but already, she’d heard a number of fearsome stories about emptied carriages and the rogue’s legendary archery skills.
Phileas mistook her silent focus for worry and gave her what she was sure was meant to be a dazzling smile. “Don’t worry, my Lady. ‘Tis only a figure of speech. I have plenty of jewels. You shall be charmed by them before long.”
“How generous of you.” Maria barely conjured a pleasant tone as Phileas spun her out, and then back in, barely catching her in time.
“Indeed! I come from a very generous family. Did I ever tell you about the time my father gifted a horse to his stableboy? It was quite the controversy at the time-”
Maria did her best to keep a polite interest in the story she’d heard thrice already, but found herself focusing on her movements more than anything else. Her eyes briefly shifted to the ballroom, ornately decorated in white and gold, all the way down to the flowers. She hoped to find a man brave enough to cut in and give her some reprieve, but the guests offered her polite smiles beneath their masks and nothing more.
Her father, King George - fulfilling the position as long as her uncle Benjamin was off to calm the war, that is - had spared no expense in welcoming her home. This masquerade was only the first of several balls planned, unfortunately for Maria’s feet. And even though he had not directly informed her, Maria knew it was so she might finally commit to a husband. She had been eighteen for several months now, and it was high time.
In truth, most men did not dare to look at her longer than a few moments before busying themselves with another fair maiden. Her hand had been all but promised to Phileas, so it made little sense to-
“Mind if I cut in?”
Maria was instantly drawn back to the conversation, which had been interrupted by a man fully clad in black, including his mask. It seemed as though he had not received the note regarding the dress code, but he hardly seemed bothered by it, his eyes confidently settled on Maria.
“Uh-” Phileas started.
“Yes!” Maria quickly said. “Yes, of course.”
She disentangled herself from Phileas, who looked lost between her and the stranger, a jealous sheen in his eyes. Eventually, he seemed to recuperate and took Maria’s hand, raising it to his lips and planting a slightly too wet kiss on it. “Very well. I shall see you again soon, my Lady.”
No sooner had Phileas turned away from them when the stranger’s hands easily slid around Maria’s waist and he took her hand, effortlessly guiding Maria along the dancefloor. Thankfully and surprisingly, he adjusted his tempo to hers.
“Are you alright?” The man asked.
Maria blinked. She had been expecting a question about the party, or her recent travels. Not something actually directed at her.
“Uh- Yes.” She was tired, but she couldn’t tell him that. “Why do you ask?”
He spun her around at a lazy, slow tempo, catching her gently before speaking. “It looked as though he was attempting to exhaust you into marrying him.”
Maria chuckled. “Well, it’s hardly necessary. If it were up to my father, the duke and I would be wed by the end of the month.”
“And if it were up to you?” He asked, flattening her hand against hers as they turned.
Maria fell silent at the question. If it were up to her, she’d find someone to marry for love, but that was hardly an appropriate stance for a princess to take.
“I’d like to take my time,” she replied instead.
“Hoping for someone else to come along?” The man smirked as they turned again, flattening their other palms against each other.
“Well, no-” Maria stumbled over her words. “Phileas is a perfectly suitable match-”
“Suitable,” the man chuckled. “Truly, your passion is admirable.”
“Well, I hardly have the luxury of passion-”
“Why?” The man’s hand slid around her waist, pulling her close as they continued to circle each other. “You’re a princess, and a beautiful one at that. I’d say you have your pick of any bloke in here.”
“Including you?” The words were out before Maria realized it, and she mentally kicked herself. But she couldn’t deny the rush down her spine as he grinned.
“Why, are you interested?”
Maria studied him as he took her hand, guiding her in a circle around him. He was slightly taller than her and, judging from the way his jacket clung to his arms, far stronger. And yet he pulled her closer with a gentleness and care that no other man had ever bothered with. His face was covered by a mask, but underneath it were a cutting jawline and two sculpted lips that split into an even wider grin.
“My god, she is,” he spoke, his voice low. “Don’t worry, princess, I won’t tell.”
Maria felt heat rushing down her spine and up her cheeks. “Don’t flatter yourself.”
“I don’t have to,” he spun her out and back in, catching her with her back against his chest. His lips were next to her ear. “You’re doing a pretty good job of it for me.”
He was smirking as Maria turned to him. “Arrogance is an ugly look on anyone, sir,” she admonished him, but she found herself smiling.
“Everyone has their flaws,” he said, studying her as though he wondered about hers.
“Almost everyone,” Maria said, smiling coyly.
The man chuckled. “Who’s arrogant now?”
Maria laughed, but suddenly noticed whispers to her right. She found several nobles sending thinly veiled looks of disapproval at Maria and her dance partner. She cleared her throat and created some distance between her and the man.
His eyes flashed to the nobles and landed on Maria in understanding. As the music came to an end, he took Maria’s hand and placed a small kiss on it. “It was a pleasure, princess.”
He turned, but Maria caught his wrist, suddenly realizing something. “Wait! You… You never told me your name.”
His eyes flashed to hers under the mask. “Robin.”
When she realized he wasn’t going to give her any more than that, she released his wrist, nodding. “The pleasure was all mine, Robin. Truly.”
Robin smiled, disappearing into the crowd.
It wasn’t long before Phileas had found his way to Maria’s side again, and she soon found herself longing for some reprieve. As she danced with the duke, her eyes searched the crowd, but Robin was nowhere to be found. Until she saw him walking through the garden doors, disappearing outside.
Maria quickly turned to Phileas, who was in the middle of a hunting story she’d heard a thousand times before.
“... trapped, nowhere to go. I, of course, volunteered to slay the beast, unlike-”
“Your Grace,” Maria interrupted him. “I’m parched. Would you mind fetching us some drinks?”
“Naturally, my Lady,” the duke replied, once again planting a wet kiss on her hand. “And please, I told you to call me Phileas. In fact, I shall be back before you can speak my name.”
He disappeared into the crowd, and so did Maria, weaving herself between nobles while sending polite smiles and waves, never holding eye contact long enough for anyone to stop her. She reached the garden doors, and felt relief coursing through her upon seeing Robin walking down the long garden path. A guard moved to accompany her, but Maria quickly waved him off, following Robin down the path. Before she could reach him, however, he turned right - into the garden’s hedge maze.
Maria chanced a look back at the party, briefly wondering if it was wise to follow a man she just met into a maze. Then again, she had played around in the garden her whole childhood - she knew the maze like the back of her hand. If anything, he would have the disadvantage.
And frankly, she was glad to be away from the party. She breathed in the cold night air as she stepped into the maze, following the route to where she knew she’d find the center. Around each corner, she checked to see if Robin was there, hoping to sneak up on him. However, he was nowhere to be found.
Maria heard only the noise of crickets as she turned the final corner. She found the center of the maze, a set of four pillars with a sundial in the middle. Fireflies floated around it, and Maria smiled and held her hand out, watching one land on her finger.
“Princess.”
Maria lowered her arm, and Robin watched the firefly float away before focusing his gaze on her. She couldn’t see him well in the light of the moon, but there was something intense about him. The way he stood, like a hunter who had trapped his prey. Suddenly, Maria felt like the animal in Phileas’s story, and a cold shiver ran down her spine as she took a step backwards.
“Robin?”
“I really am sorry about this,” Robin said. Maria noticed only then that he held something in his hand - a rope.
Maria pursed her lips and eyed him for only a moment before darting back into the maze.
“Help!” She yelled. “Someone!”
She ran around a corner and found Robin there. She screamed and whirled back around, taking several turns before nestling herself into an unnoticeable dead end, hoping he would walk by. She did what she could to hide her dress in the bushes, but the white and gold stood out like a sore thumb, illuminated extra by the moonlight.
“Princess, it’s nothing personal, I promise.”
Oh, that’s good then, Maria thought, annoyance slicing through her fear momentarily. The tension in her muscles quickly returned, however, when she heard his footsteps. He was right beside her alcove.
As he walked into view, Maria gasped softly. At first, it looked as though he might walk by, but then he stopped. Maria watched him roll his shoulders.
“Princess,” he said. “I know you’re here.”
Maria held her breath, and it took everything in her not to sigh in relief as he kept walking. But she had to keep moving, or he would surely find her. As quietly as possible, she left her alcove.
Suddenly, two hands grabbed her from behind, one around her waist, and the other across her mouth. Maria struggled against his grip, and Robin grunted. “This doesn’t have to be difficult-”
Maria bit down on his hand with everything she had, and Robin hissed, pulling it back. The momentary distraction was enough for Maria to stomp down on his foot, making him release her entirely. She ran for her life, screaming.
No soldiers came running. The party was too loud, too far away. Maria whimpered in desperation. How foolish could she have been?
Robin appeared around a corner, and Maria turned another, and another, panicking. She knew the maze well, indeed, but it was nighttime, and she wasn’t thinking clearly. She cursed as she ended up in the clearing at the center of the maze, right back where she started.
She whirled, but Robin was right behind her. “Enough!”
Maria stumbled backwards, falling against a pillar. Robin pinned her against it, panting. “You’re slippery.”
Maria pursed her lips, lifting her foot to stomp on his again, but he quickly changed his footing, pushing Maria further against the pillar in the process. “Ah-ah, not falling for that a second time.”
“You’re a fiend,” she hissed. “You lied to me!”
“I did not,” Robin said, before pulling Maria away from the pillar, holding her hands behind her back and tying the rope around her wrists with practiced ease. “Though you did make it easy for me. Do you make a habit of following strange men into the dark, or am I special?”
He turned her back around, and Maria glared at him. “You’re despicable.”
“I’ll take that as a yes.” He grinned before lifting Maria up, throwing her over his shoulder. Maria yelped indignantly.
“What are you doing?” She yelled.
“I didn’t think you were gonna walk with me.”
“Put me down this instant! You- You scoundrel!”
“Oof,” Robin said, pretending to put a hand over his heart. “Be careful, princess, you wouldn’t want to hurt a man’s feelings.”
“I’d like to hurt a lot more than your feelings,” Maria hissed, struggling against his grip as he walked her out of the maze with ease, using the second exit, away from the main path. Clearly, he’d planned this well. And she’d walked right into his trap.
Maria continued to struggle and scream, but it was no use as he carried her into the dark forest.
For @incorrect-quotes-of-moonacre, thank you for all the work you put into the fandom and Moonacre Week every year ❤️
[Read on AO3]
Chapter 1:
Our story begins, as many typically do, with misfortune falling upon our protagonist and thrusting them into a new journey, irrespective of the protagonist’s feelings on the whole matter; for that is exactly how Maria Merryweather, just sixteen years of age and freshly debuted, found herself living neck deep in the countryside begging for work at the wash house.
“I know your lot!” The head laundry maid, Mrs. Miller, said with a scowl. “You come around here looking for work, only to quit within the first day!”
“Please I–”
“Just look at your hands! They’ve never seen a day of work. There’s no way you’re a commoner! Probably the bride of a failed elopement. I will not be having any trouble at my door.”
“Please!” Maria all but fell on her knees as she implored. “Please just listen! Yes, I’ve been fortunate enough to not know work, but no! I'm not some runaway bride! I’m an orphan who was robbed before arriving with my family! Whatever fortune I once had has left me crawling for crumbs and I am paying for it threefold! I promise I will not cause trouble. I simply need work to afford the replacement of my stolen garments.”
“Hmm…” The lady, Mrs. Miller, studied her. Maria was wearing a simple brown linen dress, faded with age. Her hair was hidden by a once-white bonnet, though a few light-red strands stuck out. Not many around here had red hair. There were a few families…one of which could get her into trouble, though the redheaded brother hadn't been seen in over two decades… “What family are you from?”
“The Trotters.”
Mrs. Miller looked over her shoulder and shouted at her workers. “Which of you is willing to teach her?”
Most of the girls looked away, finding they already had enough work to keep them busy, but one girl raised her hand. She was tall, with blonde hair slicked into a bun and bright blue eyes. “I can help her.”
“Ah, Ms. Swann. Perfect. Come over here. This is Ms. Maria Trotter.”
“It's a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Trotter. Please, call me Jane.”
Maria’s journey began with the first of three misfortunes: her father’s unexpected passing after her debut into proper society. This unfortunate event only left her with her governess, and whatever belongings she could carry while everything else was repossessed to settle her father’s outstanding debt. A fact that brought her great shame.
But like the highbred lady that she was, she took it with grace. She held her faith in her heart and her governess's hand for support, genuinely believing that matters would sort themselves out with time. After all, she believed herself fortunate to still have an estranged uncle generous enough to take them in. She believed their move to the countryside would simply afford them new opportunities. She believed gentlemen could be found everywhere, not just in the city, and that one day she’d find a proper suitor.
Little did she know a second misfortune was about to befall her. Just before arriving at the gates of Moonacre Manor, they were accosted by four masked bandits, who in a matter of seconds, took all of their luggage except for the carpet bag she had carried with her inside. She wasn’t able to take a good look at them, only that they wore bowler hats, black leather garb, and darkened eyes.
Though incredibly shaken, and feeling her resolve crack, she managed to restore her optimism at the thought that none of the bandits had managed to open their carriage. No doubt all due to her quick thinking and her handy needle that she used to slash the hand that came through her window. At least she and Ms. Heliotrope were safe and sound.
But Maria’s silent prayers were to remain unanswered as a third misfortune came upon her.
“I’m afraid you'll both have to find means of financing your purchases,” Her uncle, Sir Benjamin, told them during supper that night. “Unfortunately, our coffers have run dry trying to replace all that the De Noirs have stolen from us.”
“The De Noirs?”
“Yes, I believe those were the very bandits that robbed you and your governess. Unfortunately, there is nothing to be done. Moonacre is too small and unimportant for London to care about. And Lord knows our own magistrate can barely keep order. All I can offer you is shelter and food.”
“But I don't know how to work! I've never worked a day in my life, and I need clothes!”
“The laundry is always in search of workers. I’m sure they’ll readily teach you, their ways. However, for your safety, you mustn’t tell anyone you're a Merryweather. With their propensity, the De Noirs are bound to kidnap you too. Present yourself as a Miller or Trotter. Those are fairly common around here.”
And that is how she found herself the very next day, clutching a meager shilling between cracked and bleeding palms, sobbing with all her heart, outside the gates of Silverydew after her first day of work.
Maria knew no one was meant to know her true identity. The laundry gossip informed her plenty of how dangerous the De Noirs could be, especially their leader whom they simply referred to as the king of thieves, but when Jane found her crying and handed her a freshly baked roll of bread and a small tin of salve for her hands, Maria couldn’t help herself.
She had tried so hard to remain strong and keep up with the rest of the ladies, but it was impossible. She was weak and her entire body was in pain. She was exhausted. She was hungry. She had never felt as low as she did then.
She tried, she really did try to maintain her resolve, but when Jane wrapped an arm around her shoulders, Maria broke and released all that she had bottled in her heart. She confessed what had transpired in her life to have driven her to such a wretched state.
..oOo..
“How are you doing?” Jane asked as she came to join her at the wash bin.
Maria was finishing her third day in the laundry house. She had learned much, but still struggled against the feelings of incompetence, the aches of her body, and her wounded pride. She sighed, “I believe I am managing. Though my arms are still threatening to desert me.”
“It's all a con, don’t fall for it,” Jane giggled. “Do you think you could help me load this onto the carriage? The magistrate seems to be in a bit of a rush and the other girls are busy.”
“Yes, of course!”
At the count of three, the two heaved the trunk of freshly laundered garments and carried it out into the gravel road where the carriage awaited.
Maria glowered at the coachman who was fully aware of their efforts but refused to come down from his seat and help them.
As they lifted the trunk to load it onto the carriage’s rack, Maria’s grip slipped, and a burr in the iron handle tore open a newly healed crack in her palm. She yelped as the trunk came crashing down. Fortunately, none of the contents spilled.
“Careful there!” The coachman yelled, but he received no response aside from Jane’s furious glare that shut him right up.
“Goodness! Are you ok?” Jane asked, rushing to her side.
“Yes,” Maria mumbled, wishing to hide from humiliation. She dropped her head as Jane proceeded to use her handkerchief as a wrap for her palm. “I'm so sorry. I’ll return this to you as soon as I can wash it.”
“It happens to the best of us. Don't fret. Once, the garments I was carrying fell onto the floor and I had to wash them all over again!”
Maria smiled sheepishly but her mind was distracted by a dash of white paint only visible on a small portion of the flat steel tyre on one of the carriage’s back wheels. “Why would someone paint their wheel?”
“What do you mean?” Jane asked, peering over Maria’s shoulder. “Strange. I don't think I’ve noticed that before. Who knows. Come now, let's get on with this.”
After that, Maria began to notice certain carriages had that same mark. She spotted it on the magistrate's carriages, on the constable’s, and on some of the farmers.
..oOo..
“Are you ready to leave?” Jane asked Maria, who was busy hanging someone’s night clothes to dry. They had grown quite close over the days. Jane was trustworthy, clever, and readily lent an ear without any judgment, unlike the rest of the laundry maids. The majority of them still believed her to be a runaway bride and kept a guarded distance. As though her very presence would tarnish their reputation. The only benefit to their company was the gossip. Oh, how they loved to gossip! That is how she came to learn her uncle was once engaged to a Lady Loveday De Noir. He hadn't known of her identity at the time of engagement, but he broke it off when discovered the truth, believing she was there to steal from him.
“Don’t wait for me today,” Maria replied as she picked up another nightgown. “I need to stop by the apothecary. I've finished my salve.”
“Alright then, I’ll see you tomorrow!”
Maria wasn’t eager to return home. Though she had grown fond of Wrolf, Sir Benjamin’s giant Irish wolfhound, and her pony Periwinkle, an unexpected gift from her uncle, Sir Benjamin’s never ending dour mood was a constant reminder that things just weren't right.
But she also didn't want to return too late. The few times that she had, she had arrived to the sound of melancholic piano music and her uncle’s sobs, no doubt over his failed engagement. She was fortunate her room in one of the manor’s towers was too far to hear her uncle’s cries, though she could not help but feel pity for Ms. Heliotrope whose room was on the first floor.
At the end of her workday, she always faced the same predicament: either she returned early in the day to find him storming about the manor and cursing the De Noirs, or late in the evening to find him sobbing by the piano and wailing for Loveday. There was no neutral ground with that man, it's no wonder his engagement failed.
As she walked to the apothecary, Maria took a moment to appreciate the town of Silverydew. It was a quaint little town, and despite their hardships and occasional dealings with theft, the people were hardy, kind, and hopeful. Children ran about the square playing games with hoops and sticks. Mothers formed groups and shared recipes or the latest news. Men huddled around the tavern, commenting on the weather and their crops or businesses. Young ladies walked around the square, arm-in-arm, giggling over the young men who watched from a distance.
Yes, Silverydew was certainly a better ambiance than the desolate and rundown manor that barely stood on its foundations, especially now that the town was preparing for the Harvest Festival.
Perhaps if her circumstances were different, she too would be as excited as the townspeople. She had an inkling her uncle would not even consider attending, much less allow her to attend unchaperoned. Though perhaps she could convince Ms. Heliotrope–that is if she wasn't too tired from tutoring the magistrate’s children or staying up late from her uncle’s incessant mourning over his life.
Maria sighed wistfully, wishing she could do something to help her uncle and brighten his mood. She wished to restore herself and the manor to its rightful state. However, she had yet to learn what caused the great feud between the Merryweathers and the De Noirs. It seemed no one knew, or at least would not openly talk about it.
“Oh!” Maria cried as her face came crashing against someone’s back. She was so lost in her thoughts she failed to notice the person in front of her. She would’ve fallen to the ground were it not for the strong arms of said person. “Oh, excuse me!” she yelped, disentangling herself from his arms. “I didn’t–”
Maria froze under his gaze. Dark eyes were alight with mischief as the ghost of a smile broke into a dashing grin. “I-I’m sorry,” she finished with a bright blush as she straightened herself and took a step back.
“I haven’t seen you around here before.” He adjusted his coat then stuffed his right hand into his pocket and with his left, awkwardly brushed his hair back. A fruitless effort as his curls bounced right back into place and casted a sultry shadow across his handsome face.
“Oh, I’ve only been here for a few weeks. I don’t make it a habit to stay out very long.”
“Reckon you’re not missing much then. Silverydew isn't known for its nightlife,” he teased. “It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss…?”
“Trotter!” Maria chirped. “It's Maria Trotter. And your name?”
“Robin.”
Maria didn’t miss the fact that he failed to offer her his hand which showed no sign of leaving his pocket, but she decided he had his reasons and she had more urgent matters to attend to. “It’s a pleasure to meet you as well. Now if you’ll excuse me, I'm on my way to the apothecary before it closes for the night.”
“What a coincidence, I am too. Allow me to join you.”
It was not a long walk, but it allowed Maria to ask her own set of questions, “I haven’t seen you around either. Do you live outside of Silverydew?”
“Yes, I live on the outskirts of the valley. I don't make it a habit of coming into town quite often.”
“Why is that?” Maria asked.
Robin held open the apothecary door and gestured for her to walk in first. Then he leaned over her shoulder and whispered. “As you may have learned, these townspeople busy themselves by sticking their noses in other people’s business.”
“You must forgive them, for what else are they to do,” Maria stiffed her giggle but continued, “There’s only so much to say about the day-to-day life here.”
Robin grinned crookedly. “Reckon I can come up with a few ideas,” he said in such a way that sent her heart racing.
“-How can I help you?” The pharmacist asked, stepping up to the counter and startling Maria, prompting her to take a step away from Robin.
Maria cleared her throat and tried to steady her thoughts as she said. “I’m here to purchase some salve.”
“That’ll be five shillings.”
“But…last week it was three.”
“I’m sorry dear. As summer wanes, the herbs become rare, and the price goes up.”
Maria’s heart sank and she solemnly reached for her purse, pulling out all that she had: three shillings. A wave of embarrassment washed over her. “I'll come back tomorrow then,” she muttered.
“Now, hang on. Keep your shillings,” Robin said. “Charge it to my account–”
“--I can’t possibly–”
“Ms. Trotter, it's fine. If it makes you feel any better, simply pay me back whenever you can.” Then turning to the shopkeeper he said, “I’ll also need three needles, a roll of surgical silk, gauze, and antiseptic.”
It was then Maria noticed he had taken out his right hand from his pocket. It was bandaged and blood had seeped through the fabric. “Goodness, are you ok?”
“Yes,” Robin reassured. “It's a common occurrence in my line of work.”
Maria was appalled. Granted she didn’t know much about jobs in general, but she wondered what type of work could lead to such nasty wounds. “Well then as gratitude, please allow me to stitch you up.”
Robin did not protest when after their purchases, Maria took him by the arm, led him outside to the nearest bench, and then motioned for him to sit. He watched with rapt attention as she expertly unwrapped his hand and wiped it clean with her own handkerchief and the antiseptic. “Goodness! When did you get this? It looks feverish!”
Robin scratched his head as he sheepishly laughed, “It was a few days ago. My mate tried to stitch me up, but clearly, he failed spectacularly. The stitches tore today on a new job.”
Maria tutted with a shake of her head but made no further comment as she readied the suture. Unfortunately, the silk was unruly with her gloves, and she was forced to unsheathe her hands, praying he wouldn't notice their state. Then she quickly stitched the gash across the back of his hand. She was so dexterous he hardly felt the sting of pain he was normally accustomed to.
“Incredible,” he murmured, admiring her handiwork. “That’s quite a talent you have there. I may be needing more of your services.”
“I’ll give my regards to my governess. After all, she's the one who taught me French Needlepoint,” Maria teased. Then she hurriedly reached for her gloves but froze when his hand gently encased hers. Her breathing hitched when he raised the back of her hand to his lips, his eyes gazing into hers. Her heart skipped a beat when he placed a soft kiss upon her bare and scabbed knuckles.
“Thank you,” he breathed into her skin before releasing her hold.
“Y-you’re welcome,” Maria barely managed to say. She nervously slipped her gloves back on, gathered her belongings, and stood to leave. “Have a good day Mr. Robin. And thank you for the salve.”
She hurried out of Silverydew with a fluttering heart, entirely unaware of how intensely he studied her retreat.
Maria’s mind was occupied with thoughts of Robin her entire way home. Even the melancholic piano music that could already be heard outside the manor gates could not dampen her mood, but she wasn’t quite ready to go inside just yet. Instead, she headed to the stable to brush Periwinkle. It had quickly become her favorite pastime when she needed a place to settle her mind or heart.
She searched all over the stables looking for her brush, but it was missing. “Digweed!” She called out. “Where is Periwinkle’s brush?”
“It’ll be in the carriage house, apologies miss!” Digweed shouted from the garden.
“Ahh, there you are!” Maria spotted the brush on the floor near the carriage wheel. She bent over to pick it up, then her heart dropped, the wheel also had a white streak. This development was enough to wipe her mind clear of Robin and send her into a sleepless night.
The very next day, Maria approached Jane and asked her. “Is there a pattern to the De Noir’s robberies?”
“I’m not sure honestly. At times it does seem certain people are robbed more often, but I’ve never looked into it.”
“Has the magistrate been a victim?”
“Yes, unfortunately.”
“What about the farmer Mr. Smith?” She listed another who had a white streak on their carriage wheel.
“Yes, all the time. The poor man has lost much on his harvests.”
“And Mr. Johnson?” Their carriages hadn’t had the white streak.
“Now that you mention it, no. He’s one of the fortunate few who hasn't been robbed.”
The next two days, Maria took her journal to work, and in her free time, cataloged all the carriages with the white streak. She concluded those that were painted, were the targets for robberies.
This perplexed Maria. If her observations were correct, the De Noirs were purposefully targeting certain people. It was not random at all. This caused Maria to feel a wave of indignation. This would mean their robberies were no longer an act of survival, but of intentional harm. How dare they!
She just knew she had to put a stop to this. That same evening, she went to the hardware shop and bought a pint of white paint and a paintbrush with all of her earnings. Then she waited.
She waited at the outskirts of the woods until the sun had set and a crescent moon was high in the sky, and then she got to work. She went around every carriage and cart she could access and discretely marked a back wheel with the paint.
She finished late into the night, exhausted, but proud of herself. She happily walked home and hid her paint in Periwinkle’s stall, before heading off to bed.
It was a few days later that she was rewarded with the fruits of her labor. Rumors were circulating about, wondering if the De Noirs were beginning to soften their ways. A few times, carriages that had been stopped were released without a single item taken. That was all the confirmation Maria needed to know that the De Noirs were not acting randomly. There was a method behind their madness. They were targeting specific people, and she was determined to get to the bottom of it.
“You’re in a bright mood today,” Jane remarked.
“Yes,” Maria said, scrubbing a stubborn stain on a coachman’s coat. “Yes, I believe I finally know what I am meant to do.”
“Is that so?”
“Yes, but I can’t tell you just yet.”
…oOo…
Robin wasn't one to visit Silveryday without reason. Due to its close association with the Merrwweathers, he could only ever go under disguise, and it was a massive inconvenience.
But someone was thwarting his revenge. Which left him no choice. So, for the second time that week, he headed to Silverydew and straight to the hardware shop.
“Hello!” Robin called towards the back room. He didn't have to wait too long before a large burly and bearded man came out.
“Yes, what can I do for you?”
“I need to know who’s purchased white paint in the last week or so.”
The shopkeeper was confused but told Robin all that he knew. Which unfortunately for him, wasn’t much. A customer's name wasn’t recorded unless the item was paid for in the form of credit. As a result, all he learned was that the shop had sold 10 cans of white paint, only three of which could be identifiable.
“Thank you for your time,” Robin tossed him a coin. “I have a request though, keep note of who buys red paint.”
The only merit to visiting Silverydew was the possibility of running into the new laundry maid in town, and as luck would have it, he spotted her leaving the wash house with another maid. He frowned when he noticed that once again, she was wearing a very old dress. At one point it must have been a dark blue color, but it was now washed out to a greyish color.
The long day had loosened her bun, and from beneath her old bonnet, curls bounced freely behind her. He watched her dry her hands on her apron, then slip on some silk gloves.
Though she quickly learned the names of the townspeople, readily greeted them with a kind smile, and adapted to their customs, it was clear to anyone with a working brain that she was not a commoner.
She held herself too proudly, behaved with a gracefulness that could only be taught, and spoke with words only seen in books or in sprawling cities like London.
Even without those observations, she had admitted to having a governess and knowing French needlepoint.
Robin followed from a distance, wondering who was to blame for the misfortune that forced her to break the softness of her hands with water and lye every day.
When she finally parted from her friend, he snuck up to walk beside her and said, “Fancy seeing you here. It must be fate.”
Maria nearly jumped out of her skin, then rolled her eyes in false annoyance. “Or perhaps simply the result of living in a small village.”
“I take it you’ve lived in bigger, more crowded places?” he asked, adjusting his steps to match her pace.
“Not a large city, but yes... Bigger than Silverydew,” she said, picking her words carefully. “How is your hand?”
“It's mended quite nicely.”
“Are you here for more sutures,” Maria said as she appraised his body, bringing about a sense of shyness he wasn't accustomed to.
“Er- n-no,” he managed with an awkward cough. “Fortunately, no injuries today. My work has been slow recently.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.” Maria frowned, “So if it's not an injury, what brings you here?”
Robin smiled crookedly, “Business. Though, now that I have you here, there is something I’d like to ask. There are some interesting rumors floating about you...”
“Really?” Maria asked with amusement. “Pray tell, what is this information you've gathered.”
“They say you’re a runaway bride. Some say you’re a witch. Others say you’re a noble who has eloped with a lowly hunter and is living in the forest. Hiding from your royal family with your husband.”
Maria could not hold her laughter. She laughed like this was the funniest thing she’d heard since arriving at Moonacre.
“Oh dear,” she managed in between breaths. “Please tell me where my rich family is so I can beg them to take me back! I’m weary of masquerading as a commoner!”
“So, it’s not true then?” Robin asked. They had long exited Silverydew and were now walking down the gravel road towards the outskirts of the valley.
“No,” Maria wheezed. “Unfortunately for me, none of that is true.”
“And the bit about the husband–”
“--Especially the bit about the husband!” Maria cackled. “Oh, do forgive me for my uncouth behavior. I-I just can't help it. Out of all the lies!”
Robin had stopped and watched her with appreciation. “I’m relieved to hear that bit is also untrue.”
His words sent a jolt through Maria’s body, immediately ending her fit of laughter. “A-And why would that be?”
“Well, as you know. The harvest festival is in a couple of weeks. If you’re unaccounted for, I’d love to be your escort. I heard there’s a circus coming this year. What do you say?”
“A circus! Oh, I’d love to go! But I’m afraid I don’t have an answer for you just yet. You see… My guardians are incredibly overbearing, so I doubt they’ll let me go. Can I let you know next time I see you?”
“I’ll keep you to your word,” he said. Then he leaned down near her shoulder and whispered, “And if they say no, I am talented in the art of sneaking about.”
For @incorrect-quotes-of-moonacre with Deep love and appreciation for all you've done and continue to do for the fandom
Fairytales are some of the most important works of fiction known to man. While commonly disregarded, overly saturated, and disney-fied, Fairy tales provide the basis for understanding human history. The examination of politics, religions, culture, and a singular thread that pulls nations together. For if one fairy tale was told in Europe, rest assured that many other cultures would have shared similar fables, even if they had never told their stories to the other. Warnings for children, for emperors and kings, the very basis for literature itself, the fairy tale is not something easily overlooked, but is the base of modern community. After all, what brings humanity closer together than rooting for the common goal? Of good rising above evil, true love, and a bit of magic to pull it all together.
*
Maria wove between the rows, holding a red apple in her hand. Perhaps a bit over dramatic, but she wanted it to serve her point. “We have many reasons to thank fairytales, for the symbolism they offer, the lessons. For this reason-” Maria paused before her desk, tossing the apple into the air before catching it. “I would like you to write your own fairy tale.” Que groans. Maria smiled. “I want this to include several things, but let’s not get ahead of ourselves and write everything. Some stories offer political critique, others warnings; I want something unique. You may borrow ideas, such as sleep curses, but please do your absolute best to be original. Grades will be based on creativity, the substances of the story itself, hidden themes, and of course grammar and other such English nonsense.”
There was a spatter of laughter from some of her favourite students.
“The assignment is due Friday and your time starts-” Maria shook her wrist until her watch faced up. “Now.”
There was the flutter of paper and hushed voices as ideas were spread around, or quiet worry at the idea of having to write something for English. The horror.
Maria tossed the apple one last time before rounding her desk and taking a seat.
*
At three on the dot, Maria opened the door to her class, unleashing her students upon the world, watching them run free as the school day came to an end. At the same time, across the hall, Mr. De Noir’s classroom door flung open, and his students made hers appear as well mannered and polite little angels.
Mr. De Noir leaned in the doorway, his arms crossed as he sent a smirk her way. “Miss Merryweather.”
Maria lifted a brow. Why her uncle had even hired him on the staff she would never understand. He was hardly a respectable teacher, half the time she had to send a student across the hall to tell his to settle down, and he was never dressed up to code.
Kitten heels, a pencil skirt that hit right above her knees, and a blouse, Maria at least appeared professional. She couldn’t remember the last time she had thought ‘oh yes, let me don jeans to go to work, that’s appropriate,’ and yet there he was. Rumpled denims, a wrinkled button up that wasn’t tucked in, even his sleeves were pushed up to his elbows.
The students adored him, and yes he had amazing recommendations, and credentials, but that did not mean he was Moonacre material. She just knew the old headmistress, Jane Heliotrope, would never have put up with his misconduct.
“Did you start them on their assignment today?” Maria asked cordially, because someone had to be looking out for the students.
“What? The fairy tale stuff?” He nearly scoffed. “Yeah, we’re saving that as a free write on Friday.”
Maria’s jaw dropped, “Wha- what do you mean by that? You’re completely disregarding the curriculum?”
He gave her a laugh, “Oh, c’mon, you know that’s a guide more than anything.”
“Right.” Maria crossed her arms, “And I bet you aren’t having any kind of lesson gearing up to Friday? About the cultural and historic importance fairytales have on society and literature?”
His smirk deepened, “Nope.”
“So what on earth did you teach them on? If you were able to teach them anything?” Maria asked.
“The importance of communal and oral traditions. Then we discussed.”
Maria rolled her eyes, because ‘discuss’ was just his excuse to let the class go wild. “That sounds more like a history lesson.”
He shrugged, “History and literature, unfortunately, overlap.”
Maria bit her tongue and glared, “Right. And you refused to teach on fairy tales because…?”
“Because, Princess, fairy tales have a different kind of connotation nowadays.”
Maria bristled at the nickname. It had started when he had learned the headmaster was her Uncle…
Well, it wasn’t particularly hard to guess that they were related, due to their last names being the same, but he assumed that she had been a legacy hire when that couldn’t be farther from the truth! In fact, she had been hired by Ms. Heliotrope a year before her retirement and Benjamin’s promotion.
“But that is the exact reason we're supposed to be teaching on them! To disrupt their previous notions!” Maria flung her arms out to further make her point, but she knew she was just getting more and more frustrated, while he kept smirking at her.
“And that’s why we slowly work up to calling them fairy tales, so by the end of the week, they have a full grasp and understanding of what a fairytale is beyond the Disneyfication.” He clapped his hands together, “Right, I have a long week ahead, and you, I’m guessing have some studying to do? Since you’re not doing any work to mould the curriculum to your class so they can reap the most of it.”
He turned, the door to his class shut before she could get another jab in. But she stood in the hall, slightly impressed, but mostly irritated. Her thoughts wandered to her Uncle, but telling on a fellow teacher was childish, and she could handle him herself.
*
“But I knew it was him! His thoughts and ideas getting into their heads.” Maria complained, her eyes narrowed and arms crossed, she hunched over herself on the garden bench sitting outside her Uncle’s home.
Benjamin had never bothered with the upkeep of his garden, he had simply just let it grow wild over the years, but that summer, he had taken an odd interest in it. Removing all the weeds and ploughing the dirt, he replanted the areas that had once been overgrown grass with growing thyme, and the garden beds with geraniums, of all colours, but primarily salmon pink.
It was better than his other hobbies: sulking or drinking.
“That’s not appropriate,” Benjamin said, removing a dirtied glove from his hand.
“No, it’s annoying.” Maria rolled her eyes. “And I have no idea when he did it! I mean, we were barely speaking yesterday about the curriculum, and today I hear my students talking about how the ideas of fairy tales have been corrupted by modern understanding and Disneyfied! Those are the exact words he used! Can you believe it? I mean, opening his office hours to my students in some lame attempt to contradict what I’ve already taught them.”
“Well, I can’t let him scalp your students.”
Maria rolled her eyes, “It doesn’t matter, I’ll tell him off tomorrow morning and we’ll just have to go from there.” Maria reached over and picked a globe of geraniums before tucking it behind her Uncle’s ear. “So pretty.”
He gave her a glare, but over the years it had lost any ferocity it once held.
*
Maria stood in front of the kettle, waiting for it to go off, her cup all but ready with her tea bag, when a dark presence slid next to her.
“I knew you just couldn’t resist.”
Maria breathed out deeply, calmly, as in the corner of her eye Mr. De Noir leaned against the counter next to her. “Resist what?”
“Using your nepo baby powers to get me in trouble, are you disappointed I didn’t get sacked?”
Maria sighed, lifting the kettle as the light went from green to red, and poured her steaming water into her cup. “Mr. De Noir, I have no idea-”
“My office hours got taken from me.”
Maria paused, but finished pouring and refilled the kettle. She stuck a fist on her hip and turned to look at him. “What? But I didn’t-”
“And I’ve been placed over the after school detention for the next two weeks-”
“But I didn’t-!”
“And Saturday!” He didn’t glare at her, no he would never, but where he was usually teasing and lighthearted, he seemed genuinely upset with her.
And then it hit her.
It was her fault.
She placed a hand over her mouth.
Benjamin.
“Oh, now she remembers.” He looked away from her, discontentedly, into the empty teacher’s lounge. “Y’know, my students make good use of those hours, and unlike you, I have plans on the weekends.”
“You don’t know what I do after school.” She muttered, her first reaction to defend herself. “Mr. De Noir, I- I didn’t- I’ll fix this, I promise, and until then, tell your students they may come to me during my office hours.”
Mr. De Noir gave her an odd look as he examined her face.
“What?”
“I- you seem genuinely concerned.” He said.
Maria rolled her eyes, “Yes, well when I was complaining to my Uncle I thought I was complaining to my Uncle, not Headmaster Merryweather.” She glared, crossing her arms. Goodness, how would she even broach this? She supposed she’d have to schedule a meeting, and go from there-
“Merryweather? Don’t go catatonic on me.”
Maria broke out of her thoughts and gazed up at Mr. De Noir, she reached out to touch his shoulder, and in all sincerity said, “I will fix this.”
He cracked a grin, “Don’t need to get all noble on me, Merryweather, it’s just two weeks. And technically I deserve it.”
“It isn’t bad for students to get multiple perspectives… sometimes.”
He shrugged, and Maria realised she still had her hand on her arm. She snatched it away, her cheeks suddenly feeling warm, before Mr. De Noir reached out and handed her cup to her.
“From my understanding, Merryweather’s are pretty stubborn, so good luck getting him to change his mind.” Then, he turned and left her alone in the teacher’s lounge, with a swiftly cooling cup of tea.
She added some sugar cubes, and sped walked her way to her Uncle’s secretary, demanding to speak with him during her open hour.
*
After an hour, Maria closed her office.
A few of her students, and a few of Mr. De Noir’s students, had come to speak briefly with her, but beyond a few simple questions about tropes and symbolism, there were no deep inquiries. She had on her coat, and her briefcase in her hand, but when she looked across the way into Mr. De Noir’s dark classroom, a twinge of remorse pinged in her heart.
With a singular and sudden determination, Maria made her way to the detention hall, which was actually just the meal hall, but was used for detention at set times.
When she walked in the hall, a bit too proudly, the door swung out and banged against the wall, the sound of it echoing across the empty room and eight heads turned her way. Even Mr. De Noir, who had been sitting on top of one of the tables, slouching as much as he could while not lying on it, popped up at her entrance.
Maria did her best not to let embarrassment wash over and kept her confidence as she came in, set her bag down on the floor, removed her coat, and joined Mr. De Noir on the table.
“What are you doing here?” He asked, looking up at her with a strange mix of reverence and bafflement.
Maria shrugged, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “I couldn’t convince my Uncle to let you go.”
He huffed a laugh. “Told you.”
Maria nudged his knee with hers.
“Okay, so message received?”
“It’s a bit boring, isn’t it?”
Robin scoffed, finally pulling himself up off the table and leaning onto his knees. “Yes, for me, who's trapped here, but not for you.”
Maria checked her watch, “Only forty-five minutes left?”
He grabbed her elbow and pulled her arm towards his face. “Just about.”
“Well, I’d like to discuss our- differing takes on the curriculum with you.” She cleared her throat. “To give our students the best chance they have with their learning opportunities.”
He quirked a brow.
“Well, for example, you say Disneyfied like it's a bad thing.”
“Because it is.”
Maria shook her head, “But would you not agree that all fairytales and myths evolved with the times, the elements changing with what was needed?”
A slow smile breached his features. “One could say that.”
“And, well, perhaps what the children of our time need is something a bit more hopeful than what original fairy tales tend to offer?”
“Or, we need to stop babying children, and let them watch things that will actually be beneficial to their mental development.”
They continued on that way for a time, the argument never actually turning to be about their lesson plans, and even after Mr. De Noir dismissed the students, they continued on until they reached the parking lot.
“I’m sorry again,” Maria said, knowing it was time to part but not really wanting to. “About the whole detention business, I never intended that.”
Mr. De Noir shrugged nonchalance, “It’s alright, I’ll just get you back.”
Maria twisted her lips to avoid smiling. “Well, I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“I’ll be the one across the hall.”
*
There was very little one could do about rumours, and once they did get started, there was not much one could do beyond fan the flames.
It was rather unfortunate for both Miss Merryweather and Mr. De Noir that one of the students in detention was a girl who had a friend in Ms. Merryweather’s class, who had often made the very keen observation that there was a certain chemistry underlying their quips and hallway fights.
So of course, as soon as Ms. Merryweather stormed detention, and stayed by Mr. De Noir’s side for the duration, it was only her right to text her friend the developing story.
The next morning, before class had even begun, all of Ms. Merryweather’s waiting class knew about the circumstances, and even without speaking a word, seemed to be in unilateral agreement.
*
“Mr. De Noir!”
Robin paused his instruction at the whiteboard, turning back to see one of Ms. Merryweather’s students hanging in the door.
“Yeah, do you need something?”
“Um-” The girl squeaked, “Ms. Merryweather needed your help in the supplies room. She said something about heavy boxes?”
Robin played with the marker in his hand. That wasn’t the Merryweather he knew. That woman would break her back before asking for his, or anyone’s, help. He put the cap on. “Lex, you’re in charge.”
There was some grumbling about that decision, but he ignored it as he came to the door, holding it open for the student before shutting it behind him. He watched, rather suspiciously, as she stood by Merryweather’s class but didn’t go inside. When she looked back over her shoulder, he lifted his brows, and she squeaked before ducking into class. Then, when he peered into the windows, each and every head, which had been turned to watch him, snapped back to the front.
Robin smirked, he could smell a plot a mile away, but who was he to foil their brilliant schemes?
He wasn’t too surprised to hear the door opening again once he reached the end of the hall, and he was careful not to look back at the sound. It almost made him giddy, and he wondered if this was just the distraction, to get him out of class so something could be done in the ten minutes he’d be gone? Or, if he was walking into the trap.
Ms. Merryweather, he had no doubt, hadn’t played any part of it, as she would never encourage this kind of behaviour.
As Robin walked into the supply room, he saw no sign of Merryweather, but then there was a sound of surprise, a fluttering sound like a flock of frightened pigeons taking flight, and a louder smacking that came from the paper closet. Robin turned, just in time to see Merryweather being clouded in stacks of paper as they fell to the ground.
“Mr. De Noir!” She choked.
He chuckled, moving in on her and kneeling to start collecting the papers on the ground.
“You don’t have to-”
“No, don’t worry, I know it was my fault-”
“No! No, I was being-”
And then the door slammed shut.
“Oh my god, what did you do?” Merryweahter asked, immediately turning on him to accuse him. “I had the door propped-”
“I didn’t do anything! It-” Then, Robin sighed. “It’s the students.” Robin stuck his hand in his pocket to pull his phone out, but his pocket was empty, in fact all of his pockets were empty, he would learn, as he uselessly patted at them. “Do you have your phone?”
“Um-” Merryweather made a vague gesture to the little table outside, where he had passed her keys and yes, now that he thought about it, her phone had been there as well.
“So we’re stuck.”
“Well- I-” Merryweather looked down at him. “Yes, I guess we are. Fuck.”
“Language, we’re at school.” Robin mocked as he went back to stacking the papers.
“Right, sorry.”Maria shook her head and knelt down next to him, gathering papers and replacing them in the box she had tipped over.
“You ever learn how to take a joke?”
Merryweather pursed her lips. “I can take a joke, when it's made between friends.”
“Oh, that smarts.”
Merryweather looked at him and scoffed.
“What?”
“Are you implying we’re friends?”
“Of course not, I’m your mortal enemy.”
Merryweather cocked a brow, “My mortal enemy? And I’m not yours?”
Robin smirked. “You don’t get under my skin the way I get under yours.”
“What am I then? If not your mortal enemy?” She said, with a slight challenging glare.
Robin pretended to give it great thought. “Academic rival?”
“Oh good, I didn’t think I’d be held in such high regard to be considered a rival.”
He snorted.
She smiled.
“So, when do you think they’ll let us out?” Robin whispered, after the papers were tidied, and they had taken to sitting on opposite sides of the closet, her legs stretched out before her, ankles crossed neatly.
“Who?” Merryweather asked, leaning forward as she whispered back. Her plan had been sending out a sheet of paper with a note written on it under the door, their only hope being another teacher would pass through and free them.
“Our students.” Robin cuffed his hand over his mouth. “They’re up to something.”
She stared at him blankly. “What do you mean?”
“One of your students came to my class saying you needed help.”
Merryweather scoffed, “Surely you knew that was a lie.”
Robin nodded, “Of course, as soon as she said you wanted my help.”
Merryweather fought a smile, crossing her arms as she looked out to the door. “So why did you come?”
“I encourage mischief every once in a while, besides I figured they had sent me away to do something to the classroom, not lock me in a closet with my academic rival.” He nudged his knee against her foot.
“You should give them all detention, they basically got a free period out of us.”
Robin shrugged, leaning his head back against the shelves. “Who knows? That might be a good thing.”
It wasn’t until a few minutes before the bell rang that good old Henry came to let them out, an odd and slightly suspicious look on his face.
*
“Now, I’m not mad, just disappointed.” Maria said, more or less quoting her Uncle.
She had only been lightly reprimanded for being locked in the closet and abandoning her students, but Robin seemed to, once again, take the full brunt of the punishment, as Benjamin assigned him another week of detention watch.
“However, as punishment, Mr. De Noir and I have decided to extend your projects.” Maria beamed as her students groaned, she knew just across the hall, Robin was giving the same speech, something they had planned together after Maria closed her office hours, and came to him with a proposition in detention. “We will no longer be only asking you for an original fairy tale, but would instead ask you to perform it in the amphitheatre before both classes.”
There was a devilish look on her face as her class got uproarious, and she let them settle before she spoke again. “The deadline is now extended to next Friday, however tomorrow I would like a first draft turned in. You may form groups of two to five, choose one fairy tale, and work out the logistics.”
“The fairy tale we wrote, or any fairy tale?”
“Your fairy tale, Marissa.” Maria smiled. “And since yesterday you all had a free period, today will be a lecture day-” More moaning, “-Please pull out your notebooks, and we’ll begin.”
*
Saturday, the parking lot was nearly empty save his car.
Maria parked not next to him, but close, as she popped out, her scarf wrapped warmly around her throat. This new plan was risky, but she felt she owed it to him.
He would protest of course, and he would tell her to go away, but it didn’t sit right in her heart. So of course, when she marched into the detention hall, Robin looked up and rolled his eyes. He slid off the table, leaving his book behind and met her half way.
“Here to plot against our students again?”
“Nope.” Maria said, removing her scarf and wrapping it around her hands, “I’m here to free you.”
Robin’s smirk softened, “You know I’m on the clock for this and you’re not?”
“I’m working on grading this morning.” Maria held up her briefcase. “It's just a change of location.”
Robin rolled his eyes, “You would work on a Saturday.”
“Yes, and you said you had plans, so go on, go.” Maria attempted to walk him around before he reached out and grabbed her arm.
“What are you doing, Maria?”
She smiled, “Rescuing the damsel.”
“Dam- Now hold on there, Merryweather, if anyone’s the damsel it’s you.”
“Oh?” Maria popped her hip, “How so?”
Robin opened his mouth to list off the countless examples that would mark him as the daring hero, but he rather came up empty.
“You’re the one trapped in the tallest tower, not me.”
“I am not trapped here.”
“Precisely, go on, I’m rescuing you, go on, leave. I have dragons to slay.”
He scoffed. “I can’t, I’ll get in more trouble.”
Maria shrugged, “I won’t tell Headmaster if you don’t.”
Robin struggled not to smile. “I can’t.”
“You can and you will.”
“Y’know, usually it's the other way around, the handsome young hero saving the princess.”
Maria shrugged, “I rather like Cupid and Psyche.”
Then, there was something about the way his eyes lit up at her words that made her heart flutter, her stomach pitch, and her mouth run dry. Had that been a mistake? To imply that they were- that she was doing this out of-
“This isn’t fair.”
“It’s perfectly fair.” Maria argued, “I was in your debt, now I’m not.”
He shook his head, “You’re going to get me in trouble.”
“I thought you liked mischief.”
Robin smiled, and before Maria could make another comment, he reached out and squeezed her arm. “I still feel like I owe you for this, but thank you.”
She almost thought he was going to lean down and kiss her, her cheek, ot temple, or her lips, but he turned and went back to get his book and jacket.
Maria watched him leave, the door shutting behind him, and then the empty air for a few seconds before she glanced at the students, who were doing their best to avoid her eye and trying to stifle grins.
She cleared her throat and got to work reading the fairy tales.
*
Monday morning, she attempted to speak with her Uncle again.
“Really, he doesn’t deserve any of it, and I know you said that you had to set standards, but this is ridiculous! Not even the students get this much detention!” She had started sitting down, but at some point she had gotten up to pace madly to and fro. “I mean it’s not just a detriment to him, but his students! Though not many of his students have taken me up on my offer, they may not feel comfortable with it! And beyond that, there’s usually a very fair rotation for the detention slots, and I think it’s been a while since it was my turn! And the closet thing wasn’t his fault! He only came in to help me, it’s not like he did it on purpose, that’s hardly worth another week of detention!”
“Maria-”
“I would understand if he had locked me in there, but he was trapped just as much as I was!”
“Maria-”
“And we both settled on how to discipline the students who, I already told you, were the real culprits!”
“Maria!”
Maria jumped, her hand on her heart the other grasping the back of the chair. “Yes?”
“If you would really like to, I can take over some of his detention-”
“Oh really? You will!” Maria raced around the desk, wrapping her arms around her Uncle’s head and neck. “Oh thank you! I felt so guilty about all of it!”
“Right.” Her Uncle muttered. “Guilt.”
*
Robin sat on his desk, laughing as one of the students shared a more or less irrelevant story with the class which kind of had to do with fairy tales, when Maria knocked on the door and came into class.
“Mr. De Noir, do you have a moment?” She asked, and some of the students had the audacity to laugh or gently ‘oooh!’ at his departure.
He followed Maria out into the hall, mindful to stand in front of her so his students couldn’t get a good look at her facial expressions through the window.
“I believe my debts are paid.” Maria beamed, “Mostly.”
Robin cocked his head to one said.
“I slayed the beast. Headmaster Merryweather said he would take over detention next week.”
“Really?”
“Yes.”
“What did you do- how did you-?” Robin cut himself off with a scoff, she was unbelievable. “Damn, I really was the damsel.”
“Language.” Maria’s eyes flashed to the window behind him, and when he took a look, the students ran away from the window and back to their seats.
“You didn’t- You really didn’t-” He clenched his hand at his side, tempted to touch her again, tempted to wrap her in his arms and pick her up off the floor and spin her around. Instead, he marvelled at her, his eyes wide, his mouth open like an idiot, and he couldn’t look away.
She blossomed under his gaze, her cheeks pinkening, her eyes glistening with pride.
“You’re amazing.”
*
Miss Merryweather kept Mr. De Noir company for the rest of his detention periods, the students noticed, and word spread very quickly. Some students, rather foolishly, got themselves in trouble so they would have to go to detention, so they could report back.
And it was very interesting how close they sat, and how often they gazed into each other's eyes without speaking, and how close they came to touching the other only to stop themselves before they got too close.
The reports from detention made their way around, from student to student, until even the teachers heard, and placed their bets.
“No, they’re both too stubborn,” Ms. Swann said, “Neither will admit to anything until it's unbearable.”
“Don’t underestimate Robin, he’s rather determined, and once he wants something that’s it.” Mr. Turner said.
“But Maria has much more class than that.” Mrs. Fitzwilliam said.
“That doesn’t mean she’ll deny herself the pleasure of a man’s company, especially one that looks like him.” Ms. Thomas suggested.
And, inevitably, word got back to Headmaster Merryweather who was not completely unsurprised by the developments, after all he saw too much of himself in his niece. Falling in love with a supposed enemy was practically a family trait.
*
Maria sat down in the amphitheatre, her students settled and the first group ready to go, her rubric out on her clipboard, while Robin leaned back on the bench behind them, his own rubric off to the side as her students went first. They had a box of props and costumes for the students to use, and yes the girls did fight over who got to wear the pearls, and there was a massive disagreement on who got the sword with each group that came up. Whether or not the story had anything to do with swords.
They watched each class file in, as they were instructed to come straight to the amphitheatre, and file out once they were done, though Robin and Maria hardly paid attention as they did.
There was many a giggling, many a stare, and a many whispering that made their way across the classes, but Maria didn’t particularly care to take notice.
She was too busy trying to ascertain if his knee pressed into her thigh was an accident or if he was doing it on purpose, and if his eyes were on her the whole day instead of any of the performances, and if he was arguing because he really disagreed with her or just for the sake of arguing. But when the final bell dismissed their last class, neither Robin nor Maria rose up to leave. They stayed, seated on the stone benches, her elbows on her knees, her chin in her hands as she stared up at him.
There was something so captivating about his eyes when he spoke, something pleasant when his mouth moved, something enigmatic about how he motioned with his hands.
“Tomorrow is your last day of detention.” Maria said, when an hour had passed and neither had moved.
“Yes, and you don’t have to storm the castle for me.” Robin looked up at her as she stood to gather her things. “Hermes doesn’t have to tell me all the work you’ve done to make up for it.”
She felt herself blush, because there it was again, this odd comparison. “Well, one could argue that my three dangerous tasks are complete.”
“Dangerous?” He grinned at the incredulous insinuation.
“Well, when one goes up against a man like my Uncle.” She twisted her face into one of horror and Robin laughed. “Though, I am afraid I will remain his servant forever.”
“Yes, I suppose going up against him is quite daunting.”
“Daunting indeed. But-” Maria bit her lip, turning away to look out at the amphitheatre. “Did I manage to fix the rift of my betrayal?”
Robin stood and took her hand, “There was never anything to fix.”
If any students had stayed behind, they would have seen Mr. De Noir lean down to kiss Ms. Merryweather, and if any teachers had walked by on their way to the parking lot, they would have seen the two running off hand in hand like teenagers, and if Headmaster Merryweather had looked out the window of his office, he would have seen Mr. De Noir press Ms. Merryweather against her car as he kissed her again and again, but no did, and no one saw them getting into their cars and following each other out of the parking lot, and on Saturday, despite his best attempts, Ms. Merryweather came again, but she did not come to rescue him a second time. Rather, she sat with him, and if the students noticed they were sitting too close to one another, or that they held hands under the table, they kept their thoughts to themselves.
*
Fairytales are some of the most important works of fiction known to man. They offer life lessons, human connection, magic, and some of our favourites: love.
Not every fairy tale has a happily ever after, not every fairy tale ends with true love’s kiss, but who could argue that the most captivating ones have just a touch of that special magic? Not fairy godmothers, trickster sprites, or devils, but a very human emotion, a lasting emotion, one that resonates and rings throughout the centuries.
So Long, London - Moonacre Week 2024 (Taylor's Version)
“Great job, Maria, that’s a wrap.” Benjamin held down the mic until he had finished speaking, his mouth pressed into a firm, almost smile as Maria took off the headphones.
The world was different inside of the box. People talked about fish bowls, paparazzi, interviews, concerts, but they never mentioned this part. Where you sat in a glass box and people watched as you swam around in circles, never going anywhere, repeating the same words until they meant nothing.
Maria gave her own half smile and hooked the headphones onto the mic. She stacked the sheets of music together. She left the aquarium.
Maria pulled on a blue peacoat as her Uncle, Producer, Temporary Roommate, and Legal Guardian met her out in the hall.
“Beautiful as always, Maria, I have to say, I much prefer this new music style you’ve curated.” He pressed the elevator button and Maria smiled, however bitterly.
“You liked the old music better, I know it suited you more.” Maria argued, knowing for a fact that her Uncle was not overly fond of the more aggressive turn her music had taken.
“It’s much livelier than the first album.” His brows rose and fell in a secret language as the elevator dinged open.
“I’ll see you at home.”
Benjamin nodded, and kissed her forehead before she could disappear. As she slipped inside, he adjusted the roll of his sleeves and gave her another pressed smile. Once the doors had closed and Maria was alone, she allowed herself to lean against the elevator wall and pulled out her phone. It was already open on Instagram, something she had opened before she went into the booth, and had occupied her thoughts for the entirety of the recording session.
The Truth Revealed: Maria Merryweather not the Perfect Princess we Thought we Knew?
She hadn’t had time to read past the headline pasted over an old red carpet photo of her…
And Phileas Auster.
An actor. A model. A rising star that was perfect, and hot, and heartbroken.
Two months ago they had agreed to keep their break up out of the public eye, and while sightings of them had diminished, the only thing fans had were wild speculation. But Maria knew she shouldn’t have trusted him to keep his mouth shut. He would do anything to push himself up in the world. That was half the reason he had dated Maria.
Who was, what some people might refer to as, world famous.
Maria’s thumb hovered over the read more button just as the elevators opened, however, before she could step out, she saw them.
Not inside, of course, as it was a secure building, but through the barely tinted windows, the flashes of lights, the bodies pressed to the glass and doors, the sudden rise in volume as they realized she had walked into the shot.
“Maria!”
Her grip tightened on her phone, their muffled shouts never reaching her, but she watched as they crowded around one another, just trying to get a good picture.
Benjamin was in front of her, blocking her with his body as he pushed her back to the stairwell, he was yelling at security to do something about the horde, and to get her a car, and make sure she got out of there safe.
Her phone began to ring, and vibrate, and she was flooded with notifications as the hour long timer she had set Do Not Disturb on turned off. Twitter, tiktok, YouTube, texts. She was sure every person who had the privilege of having her personal phone number was trying to get a hold of her.
“God, I’m sorry Maria, Digweed saw the story drop after you went down.” Benjamin led Maria down into the underground car garage and someone brought his car up to them. “Here, take my keys and I’ll take yours once they clear out.”
Maria blindly searched for her keys in her pocket, the old keychain tarnished, and handed them off for her Uncle’s key fob.
“He told,” Maria whispered.
“Are you alright to drive?”
She nodded, but she was far away.
“Maria-” but before he could say anything else, his phone went off. “Hello? Yes she’s here- oh yes, we know. When did you find out?” Benjamin sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Well- no… no! We don’t have- yes, she just finished recording… but we need to- no that’s done… we could drop it early.” He gave her an odd look, and before he could say anything else, Maria spoke for him.
“The single? If it’s ready, drop it. Now for all I care.” Maria fell heavily into the car seat, her hands on the leather wheel and her foot on the gas before Benjamin could offer any kind of protest.
Maria’s phone connected to the car's Bluetooth and before she could switch her phone back to DND, she saw Cat’s name flash across the screen.
She accepted the call with a heavy, remorseful sigh.
“Do you see what that bastard did!” Cat cursed into the phone in lieu of a greeting.
“Not yet.” Maria said, pulling out of the garage, fortunately, no one knew about the entrance and it was free of nosy reporters. “Just that he spoke when he wasn’t supposed to.”
“Ugh! I hate him! Where are you? We’ll come to you.”
“Don’t! You’re supposed to be practicing!”
“I don’t care about that! If I trip on stage it’ll just make for good publicity. Are you going home? We’ll meet you there.”
Maria sighed. “Not home. If I had my way, I’d be going back to Moonacre, but we’re stuck in the city until it’s done.”
There were some rustling sounds on the other side, “Lizzie, we’re going! I thought today was the last recording day?”
“Well yes, but Uncle Benjamin is here until it’s fully produced, and you know how I like to have the final say on everything, and make sure it sounds right. We won’t go home until summer at the very least.”
She could practically hear Cat pouting on the other side. “Well, what about a little weekend trip? Just until this blows over?”
“Just- no, no! Cat don’t be unreasonable.”
“Oh it’s only a short ride up to the countryside!”
“Oh please, it’s hardly short, it takes ages.”
“And we’ll be back Sunday night. Or Monday morning. Whatever you prefer! No one will bother you up there.”
Maria bit her lip as she pulled into the flat’s parking garage. It was tempting. “Well, I’m not sure. Besides, Uncle Benjamin wouldn’t like it, and the single just dropped, or it will in a few moments.”
“Sir Ben Mix’s a Lot will want what’s best for you and that is most definitely a weekend getaway with your best friend and her sister.”
“Hey!”
“And Jane.” Maria added, “If you want to give her a call.”
“Of course! Lizzie’s already on it.”
“Alright, well, I’ll see you soon.”
“Yes! And we can listen to your new song the whole way up!”
Maria chuckled, “Oh god, not the whole way up.”
“Half way.”
Maria parked the car and turned it off, sitting in the warmth until she had no choice but to leave.
She pulled out her phone, and read the article.
It was just as horrible as she would have thought it would be. Every nasty word he could call her, he did. He had been in love, ready to marry her, and she had broken his heart in a cruel, vicious manner. She was a monster, callous, and evil. A villian who had played him the fool.
There was pity from the interviewer’s end, and faux tears on his, she was sure. But they didn’t know, and he would never say, if she had just taken pictures of the drywall…
This battle, whatever would come, would be a he said she said. She had no evidence, no photos, nothing substantial, and he had the benefit of speaking first.
Maria lowered her head onto the steering wheel. She tried not to cry, she tried to keep her breath even, but it was impossible. Not when she kept seeing his face red with rage each time she closed her eyes. Knuckles white with drywall dust and paint. Her wrist black from where he had held on to her too tight.
When Maria did lift her head, ten minutes had passed, and Cat texted that they had gotten Jane in their group chat, and they’d be thirty minutes. Maria wiped her eyes and went upstairs to pack a weekend bag. She texted Benjamin the plan, and his response was: good, best to keep out of the public eye for now.
The single dropped within the hour, Maria was already on the road heading North, Lizzie was posted at the steering wheel, and Cat had given up shotgun for Maria.
“You wanna listen?” Cat asked, bouncing in her seat.
“Not really, but you can.”
Maria’s recorded voice filled the car, and they sat in silence. They had listened to the demos and voice memos she had sent, but none were prepared for what it would sound like fully produced.
He's punching walls again…
*
His phone buzzed.
Which, usually, wouldn’t have been enough to get his attention. Usually it was just David yelling at him over text to finish whatever he was working on, or some unimportant social media update.
Robin put down his guitar however, needing an excuse to take a break, but it was the last thing he had expected.
Loveday:
Website: 🌙 Moon Princess 🌙 on Instagram (Instagram.com) The Truth Revealed…
No one had warned her that she would experience want, and need, and desires, and a heat low in her stomach, or a slickness between her legs. Made all the worse by the timbre of the Devil’s voice.
Maria straightened and began to walk, hoping her sprint sans warm up wouldn’t cause a muscle sprain. That was the last thing she needed.
In fact, what had made her so angry - and it was something she shouldn’t linger on in the slightest - was she was sure the sounds of his four AM guest had penetrated her dreams.
Candlelit legs hitched upon masculine hips, bodies sliding into one another in romantic tandem, panting, and moaning, and groaning, and his voice. Whispering something in her ear.
Robin assumes the new neighbor on his floor is a 90 year old woman, which isn’t hard to gauge when the walls between units are so thin, and whatever perfume lofts through the air is almost as musty as it is floral.
Maria, unfortunately, is used to her neighbor's nightly escapades, she has noise-canceling earphones, a speaker she sets on low, even a stockpile of disposable earplugs.
Robin, however, is quite pleasantly shocked when it turns out he’s wrong. Dead wrong.
But Maria is never prepared when he wakes her up in the middle of the night.
He’s never seen anyone as gorgeous, alluring or enticing. And she fucking hates him…
The first girl to ever reject him so brutally.
The distractions are never enough to deter her from the timbre of the Devil’s voice…
“Do you really think the worst of me?”
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