marlowemuses | He leads me into the night, he drives away the light

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He leads me into the night, he drives away the light

The only sounds in the forest were the sounds of the horse's hooves, soft against the snow, and Laurent's breath, quick and ragged. It was well past nightfall, and he was exhausted, but there was no choice but to keep going. If he delayed, his father's men would catch him.

He'd left before dawn, riding hard, and had stopped twice to exchange horses. No message could outpace him, so his story was not questioned, and both his face and his gold were accepted everywhere he went.

His father's story had been richly detailed, never thinking that Laurent would use those details as a map. He had the rose, and he had the words that the beast had given his father, the magic enchantment that would lead him to the castle and his fate.

There was a certain clearing, with an ancient, tumbled-down ring of stones. Laurent stood there to speak the words, and the clouds parted, spearing moonlight down upon a nearly invisible path. Laurent put heels to his horse and followed it.

The path was clear, swept bare of snow, though drifts rose high on either side. Once, Laurent looked back to see the path lost behind him, clogged by deep drifts as though it had never been.

He emerged into a soft, warm autumn night.

The clock might have been drawn back by some months, with summer and the harvest still rich on the breeze, along with the heady scent of late-summer flowers, and, twined throughout the rest of it--roses.

The forest parted into a vast meadow of soft grasses, broken here and there by copses of wood and rising stone bridges that crossed deep chasms, and led to a soaring, overgrown castle. It was everything his father had described and more, a place of wild beauty. The castle was large enough that it could house a city, though it showed no signs of life.

Heart pounding, Laurent urged his horse forward, though there was no hurry now. He was within the spell, and thus had fulfilled his duty. His father's men would not be able to follow him here, even with the secret words. Or, if they did, it would be too late.

It was a beautiful place to die.

Laurent rode boldly up to the front door of the castle, dismounting and tying his horse at the bottom of the steps. Hungry and exhausted, he climbed to the massive doors of the castle and they opened before him as if by magic.

Laurent's heart thundered in the silent hall, beautiful and crumbling, of a fantastical construction such as he had never before seen. "Hello?" he called to the echoing corridors, but there was no answer. "I am Laurent of Vere. My father took one of your roses. I have come to fulfill his debt."

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Laurent set down his coffee cup and leaned back in his chair. Eyes low lidded, posture lazy, he looked as though he were the king here, and the Beast a mere suppliant before his throne. He rested his head on his hand, all ice and disdain.

"What happened to the frightened maidens?" Laurent asked, tracing a carved detail upon the arm of his chair as though bored. "Did you eat them, or did they simply... wear out from use?"

This prince had balls, Damen granted him that. Who else would dare such arrogance in the face of impending doom? He almost admired him for it, if it wasn't so infuriating.

Damen lurked closer. He passed Laurent's chair, towering over him, daring the Prince to flinch at the monster that now stood behind him, crouching down near his head. "They...faded," he rumbled. The implication was strong. The breeze rustled at Laurent's other side, clearing finished plates. "They will be seen no more."

What had really happened, of course, was that he'd sent them all away, unable to bear the farce of temporary distractions that only reminded him how bleak his fate was. Those first few years, he had tried to woo a few of the girls he'd paid to occupy the castle. Now, there was no amount of money that would make the looks in their eyes worth the sting.

He leaned closer, sniffing. "Your smells like roses."

"Yes, I bathed," Laurent drawled. His heart quickened, but his posture stayed relaxed and lazy. "So you're hoping that a young man won't fade so fast? Unlikely. Men would simply never survive childbirth--physically, they can endure less. So I'm an inefficient choice to not fade, by nature of my gender."

He reaches up over his shoulder toward the beast, intending to pat him on the head like an oversized dog.

Those princely balls, Damen had decided, were made of pure brass. Nobody had voluntarily touched him since he became a beast. Even if Laurent meant it as a show of bravado, it was still his choice.

Damen lowered his head, so that instead of that hand touching the top of his head, his mouth brushed the fine knuckles and bones. "You are not one to fade quietly," was the rumble over them. "Yours would be a shout...or a scream."

Laurent's lashes fluttered, heart skipping a beat in pure terror as the beast... kissed his hand?

"How reassuring you are," Laurent said, tone as idle as ever. He dropped his hand back to the arm of the chair. His skin crawled, every instinct telling him to bolt. "I'd like to think that I would endure quietly. Especially as it would be so much less entertaining for you, Beast."

Candlelight flickered off of Laurent's skin, where just above the collar of his jacket Damen could see the rapid flutter of his pulsepoint. He swore he could smell the fear in the Prince's body. Which made his outward poise and control all that much more impressive.

"I would like to see you try to do anything quietly," Damen observed sardonically. "The struggle would indeed be entertaining. Your legendary wit was a crowd-pleaser in Vere, I can only assume." With perfect control, he laid his hand on the arm of the chair next to Laurent's, the meaty paw dwarfing the pale hand he'd just kissed, and curled the extended claws over the back of Laurent's hand, trailing feather-light until two of them caught at the tight wrist of his clothing. I could tear you open with a single stroke, and you would not be quiet for me.

"Oh, is it that time already?" Laurent asked, as the Beast's claws caught in the delicate fabric of his sleeve, threatening to rend. His heart rabbited in his chest. "Not even the use of a bed? You're just going to toss me onto the table amidst the remnants of our meal and take me there? My. You do know what furniture is, that's evident enough."

He turned his head, chin lifting, in order to regard the beast. His muscles were tense and his head swimming with terror, but his eyes were icy lakes and his face was placid, revealing nothing.

"A fitting place to feast upon you, don't you think? I have not yet dined, and Prince is on the menu tonight." He snagged one claw on the laces up Laurent's wrist and delicately tugged. At what point would Laurent back down...or break down? Damen could almost feel sorry for the brave young man before him. He had no way of knowing the Beast had a few reins on his appetites left.

"Would a bed make you happy to spread, little princeling? That can still be arranged." The loop spilled free, the bound laces pulled apart by the slightest of motions. There was hardly any skin even revealed, but the curved edge of his claw caressed the barest sliver of wrist.

Face to face with the Beast, Laurent's mind had gone white with terror. He'd never been so afraid, and felt so sick he thought he was at risk of swooning.

And then the Beast caressed his wrist, while talking so casually about raping him, and something in Laurent snapped, reacting without thought. In one smooth, elegant motion, he grabbed the dinner knife from the table and stabbed it downward, intending to spear the Beast through his lecherous paw.

In the absence of hope, Damen pushed recklessly. There was not a chance in cold hell that Laurent would ever choose this fate; Damen just wanted the satisfaction of seeing the terror on his face that Damen knew must be in his heart at the sight of him.

The knife, he had not been expecting.

He pulled back, but too late: it drove through the flesh of his thumb and brought a wild burst of pain. Damen roared. It had been so long since he'd endured any wound, he felt almost in shock. None dared harm the Beast.

But what did Laurent have to lose?

The uninjured paw grabbed the knife in the Prince's hand and yanked it out of the flesh and then away from Laurent's grip by brute strength. "Never," he growled, face in Laurent's face, "do that again. Your life is worth less than nothing. I could take it from you this very second. Never forget that."

Edited 2017-06-12 02:11 (UTC)

Outright rage was so much easier to face than the falsely flattering lechery. Laurent weathered the fury coolly. "Go right ahead," he said, rising to his feet with calm composure, as though he were only dismissing an overly forward suitor. "I'd rather die than endure your hands upon me."

Turning away, Laurent headed for the stairs.

Laurent's cold composure only inflamed Damen's rage tenfold. He seized the nearest items on the table - candlesticks, jeweled stands, and Laurent's damned cup - and threw them with impotent fury at Laurent's proudly fleeing figure. He swore at him in Akielon, Veretian, Patran, even languages from beyond the sea. He was aware, more than ever tonight, that he was a Beast and not a man, and that would never alter now.

It was only later, when the flame-hot ferocity had cooled somewhat, that Damen felt the burn of his wound and suffered the wind to tend to his hand. And when he barred himself in his chambers, a man again, and stared at his wrapped hand and remembered what he had threatened Laurent with, what he had been reduced to, he covered his face in his hands and mourned for the humanity that he was rapidly losing any hope of.

Laurent never allowed his pace to quicken past a walk, but that was difficult, steps wanting to match to the pounding of his heart. He hurried back to his room, moving a wardrobe in front of the door, though he knew that would only slow the beast down, at best. He curled up in the enormous, luxurious bed, and did not sleep.

In the morning, a new garment had appeared, just as sumptuous. It was a deep emerald green, trimmed with gold, with a twining laurel of emeralds and gold for his hair. Laurent put it on, considering it a product of the castle rather than the tempestuous, cruel beast, and went out into the grounds to explore.

His horse was well-cared for in the stables, with oats and apples aplenty. Laurent equipped the creature with the finest saddle he'd ever seen, and rode out, riding hard through the lands of the Beast. The farthest point was a two hour ride, where cliffs or chasms or twining briars rose up, preventing all passage beyond. There was still the temptation of the way he'd come, but Laurent was not yet that desperate.

He stayed out until dark, and did not even need to hunger. Fruit trees speckled the landscape, and when Laurent thought to glance inside the empty saddle bags, he found an elegant repast tidily packed in a linen cloth. As the stars speckled the sky above, Laurent made his way up the steps, heart pounding with fear that the Beast would catch him before he could retire to the relative safety of his room.

In the wing far from Laurent's, Damen did not sleep. His reasons far different from the Prince's, yet at their heart was the same cause: the horrific Beast who had overshadowed the pampered existence of a Prince.

He watched the Veretian ride out with his head of gold, the coronet gleaming in the morning sunlight through his hair; he watched him throughout the day, his usual visions in the mirror forgotten. There was no possibility of focusing on languages today. His only concern was Laurent's progress here.

It was ironic, Damen thought to himself with a grim satisfaction, that the only thing that would dare hurt Laurent on these grounds was he himself. And here he was, unable to rip himself away from the scrying glass, as if something might happen to the Prince that he had not personally had a hand in. Nothing did, of course. Laurent was as safe as he had promised him, the magic of this place at work around him wherever he went.

He waited almost breathlessly to see if Laurent would try the long winding path out of the gate. He did not attempt it.

And Damen did not try to invite him to dinner that night, or several nights hence. But when the moon was up and his body was his own, he tore down to the gardens to tend to his poor roses; his Beast's claws would only wreck them further, and they needed his human touch to keep from dying any more than they already were.

At first, Damen worked almost furiously, trying to finish each task before any chance of discovery; that would only hurry the curse and block him from any chance of breaking it, his mother had promised. But the thorns tore at his arms until they bled - he had enough of gloves in the form of his accursed paws - and he was forced to move more cautiously, more tenderly with the little shoots, the delicate decisions of where to prune and where to let flourish.

Laurent spent the next day exploring the castle. It seemed to go on forever, all winding passageways and crumbling halls full of moldering tapestries.

He twitched skittishly at every sound, ducking into shadows and listening, heart pounding, for the beast's approach, but he saw no sign of him.

On the third day, Laurent descended to the fountains and pools of the garden, following the water paths that tumbled down the sides of stairwells and poured into great basins. There were ivy-hung lagoons and fountains of sparkling jets. When the path ended before a great, vine-draped pool, Laurent stripped off his clothing and dove into the water, swimming through the dangling greenery into the hidden grotto behind.

On the fourth day, Laurent was finally beginning to relax again, trusting that the beast had decided that he was too unpleasant and too violent to be toyed with. He might be a prisoner here, but at least the monster was leaving him alone. He spent the day in the library, awed by the vast shelves of books rising in multiple tiers, twined with spiral staircases and balconies.

Damen wondered sometimes during those days if Laurent didn't feel himself being watched, even if the Beast were nowhere physically nearby. He certainly seemed skittish enough, but then Damen supposed he'd given him plenty of reason to be.

It was on that fourth day - in the very early morning hours, when it was still dark and he still had the use of fingers to hold pen - that he scrawled out a note in perfect penmanship. It is a very great thing to ask of you, your forgiveness for my unpardonable behavior your first evening here. I ask it regardless, offering my solemn word (for whatever it is worth to you) that should you honor with me with your presence at dinner this evening, nothing of the kind will happen again. Should you choose not to, I bid you a good evening and remain yours respectfully,
-Beast

This was delivered to Laurent's room along with a suit of exquisite purple and black with silver embroidery and a crown bejeweled enough for a King. And, nestled in the fold of the card, a single rose - not the full-bloomed variety that grew down in the gardens, but a simple tea-rose, yet so darkly crimson it was almost the same purple as the clothes, with a tinge of softer yellow at its heart.

Laurent hesitated at length over the card, but when evening fell, he dressed in the provided suit and tucked the rose over his breast, descending to the dining hall.

He hesitated upon the stairs, wary of the Beast despite all his earlier efforts to seem unafraid. Days had passed with him unmolested, and the card had indicated that he would be left alone further, should he refuse.

A formal, sincere apology appealed to Laurent, and he was curious about the owner of the castle. The note seemed so very unlike the Beast whom he had met before.

Damen could not have felt more nervous if he was the one preparing to meet a ferocious beast for dinner. It wasn't his guest that he distrusted but himself. Each day he could feel the curse pressing down around his heart a little more, encroaching, taking over, rendering him a little less human. He worried that his beastly nature would take over beyond his control when he was with Laurent. He would have to stay vigilant.

The Beast was already there in his usual chair when Laurent arrived, though the room was a lighter than on the first night. Laurent already knew what he looked like; there was nothing to soften. Damen looked toward his visitor; once more, the sight nearly stole his breath. What right did Laurent have to be so beautiful?

"You came," he said in his grumble of a voice. "Thank you. Please, take a seat. Is there anything you would like for dinner? Name it and it is yours." There was already a feast spread out that could have fed a whole town, but Laurent's wishes would still be readily honored, should he care for something special.

"The provided dinner spread is more than generous, thank you." Laurent sits, watching the beast warily. No longer hiding in the shadows. That was mostly a positive, though his was not a pleasant visage. Laurent preferred the honesty of light.

Spoiled and privileged though Laurent was, he was satisfied with what was offered and had no need to ask for more. He'd grown up as the most pampered young man in Vere, and yet the luxuries offered here outstripped those by leagues. Except for there being no company in the Beast's realm but the monster himself.

"I appreciated your apology." Laurent served himself sparingly, never taking his eyes from the beast for more than a moment.

Damen was aware of how skittish Laurent was; his senses provided him a constant feedback loop of prey's status, as if hoping to feed his instincts to take advantage of their frightened state. He was not going to do so with Laurent's this time.

"I should have sent it sooner. I told you the truth that night; my manners leave...something to be desired. A lack of civilized company gives little cause to practice civility. I am unused to having to control my temper."

It had rained that second night, the moon hidden behind the dark clouds, as if his mother wept for what her son had become.

"It took a great deal of courage to come back," he observed, the amber-brown eyes watching Laurent from across the table. The beastly gaze fell to the flower tucked at Laurent's breast. "Why did you?"

"As stated," Laurent said. He reached for his wine and drank, nursing it a little more than he would have liked. He might hate himself for it later--he knew he had a weakness for indulging his nerves in alcohol. "I have no shortage of reckless courage, and I appreciate receiving apologies. Though it would of course have been preferable to never have been threatened with rape at all."

He took a bite and chewed, letting the Beast stew in that.

"Were there ever any peasant girls? What really happened to them?" Laurent's testing the extent of this apology, wanting to know how much advantage and honesty he can wring out of the Beast's guilt, and how deep the sentiment goes.

Damen felt his face darken, the fur-covered features twisting. Yes, his intimidation techniques had been...unpleasant. But he doubted Laurent would believe him if he admitted they had been no more than threats. He wouldn't actually have...

he couldn't, could he?

"No shortage of candor either, I see," he said, in a little less than a growl. "Some would call it foolhardy. Yet you do not seem a fool, Laurent of Vere."

He considered the purple-clad Prince, who looked more regal than ever in his throne of a chair on the other end of the table. Damen didn't have to answer that question, of course. He could let Laurent wonder, contemplate his fate in light of dozens of beauties who'd come before him.

But tonight, the Beast wasn't trying to frighten him.

"There were a few. None were harmed or coerced beyond their will." That, too, Laurent probably would have little faith in. Damen spoke plainly regardless. "I sent them away years ago. There has been no one but the occasional passing traveler in this castle ever since." Laurent's father had been the last.

Laurent considers him, icy gaze unforgiving and inscrutable. He would have liked more details than that, but he was willing to accept the information, though he did not trust the source. Passing travelers like his father, he supposed. But the others hadn't had young and eligible sons or daughters. Or if they had, the Beast had sent them away, also.

"Why send them away?" he asks, serving himself from another tray and meticulously cutting his food and spearing a bite. "Why keep trying? What is it that you're trying for?" If there had been more than one, and the Beast had sent them away unharmed, then there'd been something he'd wanted or expected and did not succeed.

Companionship, Laurent guesses. Entertainment.

The coldness of those eyes was startling. Cast iron bitch, his self-proclaimed reputation. Years of practice. On what?

More out of habit than anything else, Damen clutched and unclutched a flagon of wine before him. Complete stillness was difficult for him. Especially when Laurent asked questions as pointed as those. His jaw worked in a few false starts before he spoke.

"I was trying to see something other than fear and disgust in their eyes. I did not, and so I dismissed them. There was nothing left to try for. I am sorry that I didn't even bother, with you." It might not have changed the outcome, but he could have consoled himself that it was only his exterior that made Laurent look upon him with that icy stare, knowing he was looking upon a monster but not knowing how deep the deformity went.

"Their terms were different than yours. They came here of their own free will, and left as such. You, Prince, belong to me now."

"So that I can entertain you with my fear and disgust for years to come?" Laurent asked.

He believed the Beast's explanation, and appreciated it. He appreciated, especially, that the Beast was making an effort to be civil. Laurent was making no such effort.

So the monster was lonely. Wanted a companion who wouldn't hate him. He'd picked the wrong one for that. Laurent was willing to hate him for years.

"What's stopping you, then?" Laurent arched a perfect golden brow in challenge. "If I'm your possession, why bother with courtesy? Why not simply make use of me, as you threatened?"

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