storybroken | [event: flashback]

Entry tags:

!flashback

[event: flashback]

Once upon a time, the people of Storybrooke were once the characters from the fairy tales we all grew up with. Then the curse hit and everyone was trapped without their memories in the town we know quite well already.

We all know that story, of course, but what about before the curse? Well, that's where this post comes in. There are untold stories from before the curse that we would like to investigate and these flashbacks posts are where you tell them. Post with your character (with a location or plot idea if you wish) and tag others, as long as they are in their fairy tale forms (sorry Henry and Emma players >: ).

Remember, everyone, play nice and have fun.

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[The sound and sudden nudge makes James flinch and moan, and he gropes automatically for the hilt of his sword. When he can't find it he cracks his eyes open and looks blearily up at the man standing over him, squinting and shading his face against the sunlight.]

Wha ...?

[His voice comes out croaky and he makes a face, suddenly certain there's fuzz growing on his tongue. Surely that would explain the dryness in his mouth. Even so, he manages to lever himself onto his elbows and squint at his surroundings--which is when it finally sinks in that he is, yes, in the middle of a camp, without a tent in sight. And that there's a mud-puddle beside him. And under him.

[He's cognizant enough to know that he'll feel embarrassed later, but right now his head hurts too much for him to care. It takes another minute but he manages to sit up, still holding his head, and focusses on one phrase.]

Hangover medicine?

[Letting out an annoyed sigh, Will waits impatiently for James to sit up so he can speak to him properly. This would be the part where we say Will is a polite host, but lol this is the guy who had James be dumped into a mud puddle.]

Yes, hangover medicine, but you'll have to wait a couple minutes until it's finished. Now, until then, you're going to be answering my questions.

[Hey, cut him a break, Will, He's got the hangover of all hangovers! Pressing a hand to his face, James takes a deep slow breath, trying to centre his mind through the pound in his head and the roll of his stomach. What does become clear is that he's apparently going to get interrogated while he's hungover, and despite himself he feels a ripple of incredulous amusement.]

May I at least have a hand out of the mud first?

[There's a moment where it seems like Will is considering the pros and cons of assisting him, but he eventually holds his hand out so James can take it to help himself up. He's not a complete dick, after all, and he has yet to find any proof to outright hate him.]

Now why don't you tell me who you are and what you're doing here? I know you're a prince; your horse gave that away quite easily.

Thank you.

[James manages to not need to lean on Will to steady himself once he's up, but he still closes his eyes and keeps very still so he can orientate himself and stop his head from spinning. Then he opens them and gives Will an odd look, his eyes a bit tight with the headache.]

So did Little John. My name is James; my father's the king of Lakesee. But before I answer much more than that, I'd like to be able to sit down. Which one's your tent?

I don't have a tent I sleep up in a tree. It's better for spotting unwanted guests. There just so happens to be a seat over where I'm making my hangover cure. Come along, princeling.

[Thankfully, Will is going to be somewhat nice and help James over to an old battered chair set up next to the bubbling pot hanging over a small fire. Best not to look at what's in there, James.]

[Princeling? James shakes his head in bemusement, then sways and has to lean on the other man with his eyes half closed. He gropes for the chair and sinks into it with a sigh, leaning back and resting his head against his hand. Only for a moment, though; he uses it to gather his wits, and then straightens up properly in the chair and looking toward Will.

[There's not much more than the crinkle around his eyes to indicate he has a headache at all; he's dealt with affairs of state with hangovers before. They're just ... not fun.]

You know who I am. As for what I'm doing here, I ... believe I told Robin last night that I'm here on my father's behalf to see whether Prince John is someone our kingdom wants to deal with.

[Once he's sure James isn't going to tip out of the chair, Will goes over to the pot to make sure everything's coming together right. He's positioned so he can look at James while he works, though he seems to be ignoring him for the most part.

There's a long period of silence, but then Will breaks it, not looking up from his work as he speaks.]

Well, I suppose that all depends on the sort of people your kingdom wants to deal with. Does your kingdom want to deal with a prince who steals the throne while his brother is away at war? Or perhaps someone who taxes his people into starvation and thievery while he lives in luxury up in the castle? If either are the case, princeling, then your kingdom's picked the right person to deal with.

But from what I've heard, your kingdom doesn't tend to ally itself with those who cause suffering.

[James is patient and he's already contending with the morning after. He leans back in the chair and closes his eyes, focussing on his breathing and the sounds of the camp, and it seems as if the throb dulls a bit. Will's voice is almost jarring, but James opens his eyes, squinting a bit with the sunlight.]

You're well informed. No, that's not the kind of ruler we want to be allying ourselves with, but from the outside Prince John makes himself seem very appealing. The best way to learn what a kingdom is truly like is to visit it.

[Thankfully, Will isn't trolling yet and hasn't raised his voice. Mostly because he doesn't want to bother any of the other men nearby with their conversation.]

Information gathering is what I do, along with fighting, but the latter is unimportant at the moment. [Note that stealing is something he doesn't mention.] I'm sure if Prince John knows of your arrival to the kingdom, he would take measures to hide the fact he's draining his lands of money and resources. But you look to be a clever one when you aren't challenging Robin with childish contests. Perhaps you can share what you know of us bandits and whether you would believe our side of the story about our kingdom or not.

That is why I made sure he wouldn't know.

[Will had a good eye to peg nobility from James's horse; the prince had gone to effort to make sure his dress and manner wouldn't draw the attention of Prince John's people. He just ... hadn't realised the health of his own mount would stand out so much. James closes his eyes again to block out the sun and pull his thoughts together, managing to squash the brief flicker of amused irritation.]

I can tell you what I've heard in the taverns on my way. I can tell you the state of the fields and the homesteads I passed, but I don't think I need to. At first I ... hoped ... that the circumstances were similar to the one in my own kingdom, but taverns are always the best place to find out the true feeling of the people, aren't they?

[He opens his eyes and smiles rather weakly at Will, the expression at least partly because of his pounding head. His smile fades quickly, however.]

I don't like what I heard. A good ruler doesn't inspire that sort of bitterness. Even a merely competent ruler doesn't.

[Will doesn't say anything until James finishes speaking and then gives him a genuine smile.]

Well, aren't you a clever one, Prince Dragonslayer? Since you're so clever even while suffering through a hangover, let me ask you this: since we are rather well known around these parts and you have studied, which one of Robin's merry men am I?

[At first James smiles back, rather relieved to be offering something that seemed sincere, but then the nickname of 'Dragonslayer' makes the smile freeze and drop away entirely. It was odd, really; he'd gotten used to the 'prince', but he still hadn't gotten used to the 'dragonslayer', even though that was the only part of it he'd actually done himself. He looks away, swallowing hard, then takes a deep breath and looks back.

[Then he studies Will carefully, turning over the rumours he'd heard and placing them against the actions of the man in front of him. James knew how to get people to talk; he was amiable enough and knew how the tavern gossip worked. It was sometimes as useful as market gossip. He just didn't quite have enough to tell for certain--or maybe that was the fault of the hangover. Still, he can pin it down to three, and three out of what must be nearly a hundred is still greatly reduced.]

I can think of a few possibilities. Will Scarlet or Will Stutley, or perhaps David of Doncaster?

[There's not much surprise at it being narrowed down that far. Will knows quite well that there are few like him among Robin's men and is glad for it or he probably never would have joined his uncle-cousin in the first place. He frowns slightly at the name Will Stutely, but beyond that, Will is actually quite adept at keeping his face from showing any emotion at the names.]

My name is among the three you named, but I'll not share which is mine. That's for you to figure out in time.

[Well, that's frustrating. James examines him a bit more, eyes narrowed against the sunlight. Before he was focussing on the man's face and demeanour; now he focussed on the clothes, squinting a bit. Red scarf, red stockings ...]

Will Scarlet. Why the subterfuge?

[The first is said with confidence that belies any uncertainty James might be feeling interally. The second is a bit more tentatively, confused.]

[And that gains James another genuine smile from Will, with a bit of amusement tossed in for good measure.]

Speak to some and they would reply that you answered your own question with my name.

[Which is both not an answer at all and enough of one, even though James has to frown and puzzle it out a bit before shrugging. Subterfuge isn't something he's had any call for until recently.

[The shrug makes his head throb a bit harder, enough to make him wince, and he casts a glance at the pot.]

I don't suppose that's ready yet ...?

[He only hopes it's anything like his mother's recipe.]

[Will takes a ladle and stirs the concoction a bit, watching it bubble menacingly. He grabs a mug and starts to ladle some of the hangover cure into it, the liquid a foul green color. The stuff looked toxic, with dark foam pouring over the edge of the mug as the liquid fizzles and hisses while steam floats from it. Once Will seems to be content with the amount in the mug, he steps over to James to hand it to him.]

It is ready now, young princeling. You won't find a better cure for your hangover than this in all the lands.

[Even from the kind of background he's from, James still has to stare. It's the most evil-looking hangover cure he's ever seen, and he's seen a few.]

Er ... thank you.

[He was raised to thank people for what they offered, after all ... even when it looked like poison. He takes the mug gingerly and looks down at it for a moment before deciding he may as well give it a try; surely Scarlet wouldn't poison Robin's 'guest'? Then he grimaces, takes a deep breath, and lifts the mug to gulp the whole thing down in one go. Less chance of tasting it that way.]

[ Robin wakes up with a headache. It isn't quite the headache from hell, but the hangover seems to have paid vacation time there and it pounds against his skull with annoying intensity. It takes several minutes to convince himself to move, and several more to pull himself out of bed. When he exits the tent, it's with his hood on and pulled up over his eyes, hand tugging downward on the front edge to keep it from slipping away.

Little John, thankfully, notices him and hurries over to take his shoulders and gently changes his course toward his cousin and their guest with nary a word. (Last time John tried, it had not been pretty. Robin's hearing and its connection to his headache is the worst part of the hangover.) Robin grunts in thanks and ambles over. Even hungover, he manages to make his approach fairly silent out of instinct, and soon places his chin on Will's head.

His voice is groggy, rough, expectant, and unmistakeably whiny. ]

Will.

[He's not at all surprised when he feels Robin rest his chin atop his head and wordlessly fills up another mug with the hangover cure before holding it up in Robin's line of sight for him to take. Will looks at James and makes a shushing gesture to keep him quiet so he doesn't upset Robin. He doesn't want a diplomatic incident on his hands because of them being hungover, after all.]

[James is too busy being amazed by the hangover cure to first register that Robin was approaching. He had drunk it fast to keep from tasting it, but as it turned out, it didn't taste the least bit foul; in fact it tasted like ... blueberries.

[So James was blinking with surprise down into his mug when Robin spoke, and when he raises his head he caught Will's gesture. The prince gives the man a quizzical look, opening his mouth to speak, but then he sees Robin's face under his hood and closes it again. Instead he shrugs a bit and offers Will a grateful smile, giving the mug back before leaning back in his chair and closing his eyes to wait for the hangover to diminish. Surely no effective cure could taste good.]

[ Robin takes it in both hands, stepping back so that he can drink it without bumping the mug on Will's head or something. There's no hesitation in the movement—he's been taking this cure since he was about sixteen, after all—and he actually does drink it, not gulp it all down at once. It goes down easier that way, he's found.

With a grateful clap to Will's shoulder, Robin moves to take a seat on the ground nearby, legs curled up to prop his arms on while his head hangs low. He has to let that get to work, but it shouldn't take long. ]

... thanks.

[Will doesn't reply to either of them, knowing he has to let the hangover cure take effect first. Other Merry Men stumble out of their tents, some nearly as hungover as Robin and James, but most far less so. There's a line forming at Will's cauldron away from the two men and he starts to work silently in handing out the hangover cure to all the men, knowing that they need it and he is not one to be stingy with his cure.]

[After a time James's headache begins to fade and he feels well enough to open his eyes with a slight sigh of relief at the fact the sunlight doesn't make his temples pound. With a blink he watches the line of men, those joining it groaning and with hanging heads, the ones coming away relieved and almost cheerful.]

Well, this looks like a regular occurrence.

[His tone is amused, but he keeps his voice suitably hushed so as not to irritate anyone unduly.]

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[event: flashback]

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