The Land of Stories: Rewriting the narrative

Chapter 9: The Choice

Of course, there wasn't really a choice. The man sat in the corner of his shack in the woods, mulling over what had happened. She'd said she'd give him a choice. But there was no choice. There never was, with her. She was like that. Of course, he wasn't a saint either. He'd thought that his so-called tragic backstory justified his crimes. It didn't. When he was younger, the story of Jack and Goldilocks was well-known. They were what people aimed for in their relationships. Some more than others. The man had thought a life on the run with your beloved sounded dead romantic, and proposed the idea to his girlfriend at the time. She was... not disgusted, exactly, but suffice to say she did not share his opinion of the Dwarf Forests. Still, he thought village life was mundane, and being an outlaw like Jack sounded much more fun. So he committed his first ever crime: he stole a pig from the local farmer and ran away with it. He was planning to put it back, but was caught before he had the chance. His father was not pleased, as it was a stain on his reputation as a renowned musician and Hamelin Hero. But that didn't matter: he had earned a place in the Dwarf Forests. (Of course, he wouldn't actually have been banished for stealing a pig, but it was his dream to be a runaway like Jack and now it could come true!) The man was on a high, but then he went too far. Crossed a line. Made the wrong people angry. He would have died were it not for her. Bright-eyed and beautiful, with not a rule-following bone in her body. He told her he was forever indebted to her. He never expected she would hold that against him, many years later.

The man cast his mind back to the previous day. He had been thinking, incidentally, of the life he left behind. Of course, it was too late to turn back now, but when was the turning point? After he stole the pig? After he punched the guard? After he vandalised the witch's cottage? After...
She had appeared, suddenly and frighteningly, a dark shape outside his window. Three sharp raps on the door, the wood crumbling under her knuckles. The moment when she pushed back her hood...
"You." He had breathed, unable to believe it. She had used him before, and she was back for more. Of course, it was still her. Couldn't be anyone else. Those green eyes like deep lakes. Deep lakes filled with poison. That black hair, cascading down her back with not a single hint of grey. That cold, hard mouth which he was sure had uttered many a curse. The way she carried herself like she ruled the world. A classic villain in many ways.
"Yes, me." She said, a wicked smile playing on her lips. "I can imagine you'd be surprised to see me after all this time? Thought you had paid your price already?" She had waved a hand, and an image of him had appeared. The image moved, and he heard it say "I am forever indebted to you, my lady." It had repeated a few times, then disappeared in a puff of black smoke.
"You have a choice this time. Join me. Don't join me. I will be back for an answer. I will find you if you run. Think very carefully about your alliances." She had disappeared, fading into the shadows of his poor excuse for a house, and he had been left alone. He had known then that if he did not join her, he would never see the light of day again. He had fallen asleep to the sound of her voice.
Join me.
I will find you.
Don't
Think
You
Paid your price
Don't
Think
You
Can
Run