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The carriage is ostentatious, and that makes Roy grin even before he sees the royal insignia on the side of it. That only makes him grin wider. There are two guards at the front, lightly armored and one with the reins of the pair of horses pulling the carriage. It's a fairly small carriage, maybe only one or two people inside, but one or two royals is more than enough to have a good amount of gold on them.
He checks his bow, drawing the string tight for a moment to feel the tension on it before tucking it off to the side. He waits, counts down the seconds as the carriage approaches and he winds the end of the rope tucked up in the tree with him around one arm. The carriage passes his hidden marker, moving at a decent clip, and Roy slides out of the tree and pulls the rope tight with all the weight of falling against it.
The horses are going too fast to stop soon enough, and though they give panicked whinnies as the rope whips up in front of them they still go right under it without a problem. The rope, tied between two of the trees, hits the guards across the chest and slams them hard against the carriage with twin yells as it forces the carriage to a stop. Roy sprints for the carriage as the horses rear under the hard pull at the reins, and before the guards can drag them into backing up far enough to free them from the rope's hold he's climbing the side of the carriage with a practiced jump and heft.
The guard not controlling the reins spots him, tries to turn and draw his sword all at once, but the rope stops his arm from getting enough room to pull it free. Roy flashes a grin a moment before he draws his own knife and flips it to slam the hilt into the man's temple. The second guard doesn't get free fast enough to stop him either. It's quick and practiced for him to lean over and grab both guards' arms, pulling leather cords from a pouch at his waist and tying their wrists together. That'll give him enough time in case they wake up before he's ready.
He hops down off the carriage, pulling his bow up and loosely nocking an arrow as he heads around to the door of the carriage. "No need to worry, ladies!" he calls, as he takes the handle and pulls. "I'm only here for your jewels!"
A boot slams into his chest.
Roy hits the ground hard enough to feel the breath whoosh out of him, several arrows from his quiver scattering onto the ground as he stares at the sky for a moment and tries to drag air back in. The carriage rocks as the occupant gets out.
"Do I look like a fucking lady to you?" the man demands, as Roy scrambles back to his feet, gaze lifting.
Short, black hair with a streak of white at his left temple and blue eyes in a face with dark eyebrows and a strong jaw. Good quality leather and fabric fit together in a much more practical configuration than he was expecting from royalty, with the Wayne crest emblazoned in silver over his heart. The drawn sword is a bright, deadly piece of exquisite craftsmanship, matching the way the man stands and holds it in an easy, natural grip. Christ, he's tall. Handsome. Oh, this is one of the princes.
That's not good.
"You're uh, not what I was expecting," he admits, hiding the nerves behind a smile. It's alright, he's still got his bow and he can make just about any shot he tries to. He can handle one prince with a sword. "I'll pass on getting to see your jewels, but I'd still like whatever gold you've got on you, your highness."
"And you think you're going to make me just hand it over?"
Roy gives his best charming smile, the one he usually reserves for spooked noblewomen. "Well, that is my specialty, sir."
The prince is wicked fast. He lunges, sword coming up in a flash of glittering steel. Roy leaps to the side, dancing back as he lifts his bow the last couple inches and draws back the arrow. He aims for the man’s sword arm (killing a prince is a whole kingdom’s worth of attention he doesn’t want) but the prince ducks and moves in at him all at the same time and the arrow slices his cheek as it flies past and embeds itself in the side of the carriage.
He doesn’t get a chance to fire the second arrow he brings down before the prince is on him. He ducks under an arc of that sword that spins the prince around in a tight circle to follow its momentum. It comes right back around at his side, and Roy pulls back but it’s not far enough, it’s—
A leg hooks his right out from under him, extended in the same sweep as the sword, and he topples backwards just fast enough that the sword whistles over him instead of carving into him. He reacts as he’s falling, arms moving on automatic to draw the string and loose in a breath. His back hits the ground and the arrow carves a shallow groove through the top of the prince’s right shoulder. That gets him a snarl and a sharp flick of the sword that knocks his bow from his hands before he can get the breath to start to move. A boot steps down on his right arm, pinning it to the ground.
Roy pulls his knife with the opposite hand and lashes out at the leg pinning him. The prince shoves back fast enough to get out of the way, which lets Roy push backwards and get up to at least sitting, brandishing the knife ahead of him as he pushes back with his free arm. The prince kicks the blade out of his hand.
He yelps, and ends up flat on his back again as he reels backwards from a swipe of the sword. He kicks, the prince steps out of the way like liquid silk, and suddenly there's a sword at his throat.
"You stay still, or this goes through your throat," the prince snarls down at him. With the blood trailing down his cheek from the cut there, he definitely looks scary enough to be telling the truth.
"You got it," Roy gives, resisting the urge to lift his hands in surrender. "Wow, you are fearless, you know that? Most people don't go straight at arrows. Or knives."
"Uh-huh." The prince's free hand lifts, wiping some of the blood away and mostly only succeeding in smearing it across his skin. "How about you give me a name to go with these cuts, archer?"
"Harper." He offers a smile to go with the name, and the prince blinks, staring down at him.
"Harper. Roy? You're the Outlaw?"
Shit.
He gives what he's sure sounds like a forced burst of laughter, and a crooked grin. "What, me? Oh, no. Common name."
What was he thinking giving his real name? Maybe it's the sword at his throat making him not think at all. This is all turning out to be one colossal mistake that is probably going to end up with his neck in a noose and him having to pray for some random interference or accident to get loose before death takes him. A prince wouldn't have much use for a bounty, but it is still there.
The sword pulls away in a sharp flick of motion, as the prince looks around and then steps off to the side. Roy stares, pushing up on his elbows and getting his boots flat against the ground, as the prince strides over to lean up and check the guards and then turns around with just as much purpose. It isn't until he's striding back that Roy scrambles into motion, clambering to his feet. A grope for weapons turns up nothing but a few arrows still in his quiver so he grabs one of those to threaten with.
"Oh, put that down," the prince snaps, free hand reaching into the folds of his top.
When whatever it is gets tossed to him, underhanded, Roy drops the arrow to catch it. It's heavy, a relatively small bag, and it clinks with the distinct sound of coins when it lands. He closes his hand around it, feels the edges, and yeah. Definitely coins.
The prince sheaths his sword with a scrape of steel, gaze darting to scan each approaching direction of the road they're on. "Get out of here, Harper. You won or something; take the money and go."
"Um…” Roy stares at the bag. Then at the prince. "I am really confused," he admits, slightly against the better judgement telling him to just do exactly what the prince says; take the coins and get out. It's the safer bet. "You're not arresting me?"
The prince's boot scuffs the ground, which doesn't really match the glare that gets aimed at him a second later. "I've heard of what that money goes towards when you take it," comes out between bared teeth. "Just take the damn purse and go before I change my mind; call it a donation and make sure it gets where it needs to."
He leans down to pick up his knife from the ground where it skittered off to; the prince doesn't stop him. "You care? That's… not very noble-like of you, just giving up money."
The glare falters, just a bit. "I've had some experience with slums," the prince says, darker and quieter. "Now get the hell out of here before the guards wake up and I have to stop you."
That gets him moving. Roy gathers his bow and as many arrows as he can quickly pick back up, slinging the bow over his shoulder and tucking the wealth away inside his shirt before it occurs to him to turn back.
"Hey," he calls, towards the back of the prince (currently pulling his arrow out of the side of the carriage with a hefty yank). "Which one are you?" He gets a confused, irritated look for that and quickly rephrases. "The princes; King Wayne's sons. Which one are you?"
There's a moment of pause, and a twirl of the arrow now held in his hand. "Jason," is the answer, and then the prince shakes his head, grimacing. "Try not to rob any more royal carriages; we're going to be more than you bargained for and I'm the only sentimental idiot out of most of my family. Got it?"
Roy dips into a bow, twisting his hands in flourish. "Understood, your Highness." He straightens up, meeting the glare with a grin as he starts to back away. "Prince Jason, lovely to meet you. Maybe I'll see you again, next time you're in the woods?"
"You better not."
"Next time it is!"
He laughs as he sprints into the forest, Jason's curses filling the air behind him.