Laurent of Vere (
prince_of_vere) wrote in
marlowemuses2017-06-05 11:49 am
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He leads me into the night, he drives away the light
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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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.
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"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.
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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."
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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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Laurent might not like his answers, but at least Damen was inclined to be honest with him, and he'd sensed the same from Laurent tonight. He'd long ago given up hope of a companion who did not hate him, much less one who could love and break the spell.
Why even keep him, then? Why not let it take you now?
Damen's brow did not relax. The heavy, brutish set of the bear-like visage seemed a fitting contrast to the perfect delicacy of those golden features. "I could, of course, if you wished - you sound so eager for it." His voice was thick with a sardonic quality in spite of its feral core. His lusts had not abated simply because he was in beastly form; if anything, they'd grown more savage, more urgent. He feared to unleash them upon anybody and lose control of himself fully. But of course he couldn't tell Laurent the full truth of it.
"There is a part of me that can reason and understand things like a man. I suppose that part has a conscience too. It is the reason you are safe tonight."
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The beast's next words helped a little to calm him. So, the beast wanted to be a man. He lived in this magnificent castle, with all these courtly luxuries, and he wanted to pretend that he belonged here. That he was more than simply a monster. It was pitiable. All the more so, given how Laurent despised him.
Laurent reached for his wine and drank. "I see."
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Damen watched, claws gleaming around his own cup in the candlelight. It was almost worth it, to get a reaction out of Laurent, to pierce the cold exterior even for a moment. Even if he hated himself for it.
"What were you expecting, when you came here? Have I lived up to them?"
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He drank again. He'd lost track of the times the wine goblet had refilled itself at the halfway mark. Was it three? Four?
He laid down his fork, and the plate cleared itself, bringing an array of desserts instead. Laurent meant to resist them, meant to excuse himself, but he had a weakness for sweets, and a weakness for beautiful, intricate creations. He reached for one of the desserts, cutting off a tiny bite-sized piece with his fork. The castle had provided meals for him in his room, but they were always simpler meals, with a limited array of options. Each one had been fully up to Veretian standards, but nothing compared to the unparalleled opulence that appeared on the Beast's table.
Laurent's eyelashes fluttered for a moment in pleasure as he took a bite.
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With Laurent deep in his own goblet, Damen could even spare a sip or two of his own, never when the Prince was looking at him. He did not touch the food. He would not give Laurent another reason to look upon him with revulsion.
It was almost cruel, how beautiful that face looked in pleasure. Something so simple as a heavenly dessert could transport him into such visible euphoria. Damen curled the pads of his fingers around the arm of his chair, gripping tightly against the tug of lust the sight triggered within him.
"In comparison, a day in the library must seem unadventurous. I hope you were able to console yourself."
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"Your library is beautiful," he says, instead of returning the barb with worse. "Much like the rest of the castle."
He licks the fork clean with a fastidious tongue before spearing another bite. "It's a pity you don't appreciate it."
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His eyes never strayed from Laurent's face, seeming to almost glitter in the dim light as he stared at the tip of pink tongue that flicked the underside of the fork.
"What can a Beast appreciate?" Damen responded in Veretian, his rumbling voice sounding suddenly almost elegant with the rolling lilt. "Certainly not the niceties of Godrey, the philosophies of an Aetion. The palate of fine culinary arts. Nor the natural beauty of a rose garden." A jaded, almost bitter edge completed the Veretian effect. Laurent saw him as nothing more than savage, an animal inhabiting a castle far beyond his ability to appreciate or utilize.
Someday, that's all he would be.
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"I thought you didn't read," he commented, providing the opportunity for the Beast to elaborate upon the topic. He took another bite, ate it delicately.
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Laurent wasn't the only one trapped on these grounds, its magic keeping him penned in. Without the library and his mirror, Damen was sure he'd have run mad long before this.
"I am...rather fond of Kaletor," he admitted cautiously, as if exposing some weakness to the Prince by confessing to his penchant for the author of the heroic epic poetry. "In the original Akielon, And it is much better read aloud, as it was originally meant to be performed."
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The mental image of this beast making a performance of heroic epic poetry was comically absurd, and therefore irresistible. If the Beast wanted to charm Laurent, or to at least soften his dislike into tolerance, Laurent wanted the monster to swallow his pride again and again.
The apology had been a good first step, but it was going to take a lot more than that.
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"Well, since you insist..." He rumbled, tapping meaty fingers against the tablecloth. "A performance in the library, tomorrow? With copies on hand? Better than me stumbling through a half-memorized line or two before getting stage fright and running off to the jeers of my critics."
Despite his light tone, Damen hardly dared hope that Laurent would actually agree to it in seriousness.
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There was no guarantee that there wouldn't be critical jeers--in fact, it was almost inevitable. "Tomorrow, then," Laurent said, rising to his feet. Their dinner tonight had been less of a disaster, at least. So, the Beast wanted to be a man.
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That night, a full moon hung in the clear sky, shining through the panes of Laurent's balcony. And in the thick forests of the castle grounds, a man ran until he could run no further, and doubled-back and again until the moon disappeared at last behind pre-dawn clouds.
Well after breakfast, the Beast appeared at the library, dressed in black and looking as if he was the one being lead to his doom. The room was the size of a small ballroom, lined wall to wall and with several free-standing shelves, as well as some cozy nooks by the bay windows where plush chairs were gathered around little tables. Damen looked around for his guest, nerves setting in again.
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The Beast looked somewhat civilized, dressed handsomely in black velvet, and Laurent couldn't wait to see him make an idiot of himself.
For Laurent's part, he was dressed in a gorgeous deep burgundy, crowned with gold and garnets, and looking as impossibly handsome as ever.
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Damen clasped his hands behind his back, feeling (and probably looking) terribly out of place in the library fit for a Prince, and the beautiful Prince himself, looking for all the world like he ruled this domain.
He threw a glance at the nearest nook, curious about Laurent's tastes. "What were you reading?"
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"Just a novel," Laurent says. He reads a variety of subjects, sometimes intellectual and sometimes nonsense. "I felt the need for some escapism."
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"How fortunate for me. I have all sorts of corners around the castle that are in need of a good lounger."
He's glad to see Laurent in a reasonably good mood, and taking his sense of humor in stride. Damen considers him a moment.
"Well then. I was going to have you join me in some Kaletor readings, but I too am in the mood for a little escapism. After my promised recitation, why don't you grace me with some of this novel of yours and we shall see whose performance makes the cut."
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What a poor, deluded creature.
"You first," Laurent says, tensing a little in proximity to the beast. He tries to hide it, but he's much happier when the creature is farther away. Or not in the room at all.
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Turning and walking away, Damen found the volumes with an ease and swiftness that suggested he'd visited them upon more than one occasion, putting them back in exactly the same spot. The pages were just slightly battered, for he was not always the most patient when he read, and in his beastly form his claws were as like to get caught up in the edges of the leafs as to slide under the next one to turn it dexterously.
He returned with two copies to take a seat in the nook. He filled up the chair, oversized as it was, and the breadth and darkness of his form seemed to dominate the entire space. Damen watched out of the corner of his eye to see if Laurent would be brave enough to take the other seat adjacent, or would stand at a safe and retreatable distance.
Either way, he began the canto:
Now look along that beach, and see
Between the keels hatching its western dunes
A ten-foot-high reed wall faced with black clay
Split by a double-doored gate;
Then through the gate a naked man
Run with what seems to break the speed of light
Across the dry, then damp, then sand invisible
Beneath inch-high waves that slide
Over each other's luminescent panes;
Then kneel among those panes, burst into tears, and say:
'Mother,
You said that you and God were friends.
You said it.
..."
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Laurent remained distrustful of him, and didn't like the Beast's attempts at friendliness. He did not want to befriend a monster.
Sinking into the chair across from the Beast, Laurent sprawled lazily, showing idle boredom on his face rather than paying any particular attention. He was paying attention, of course, and the Beast's recitation was very well done, showing intelligence and empathy, or at least a decent mimicry of such.
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'Do not tell Amarinceus honour is
No mortal thing, but ever in creation,
Vital, free, like speed, like light,
Like silence, like the gods...
Laurent had dared to sit beside him, and Damen grew comfortable the more arrogantly the Prince sprawled in the chair next to him. He even took on different voices, such as he could, and acted out the parts of the hero Thales and his mother the goddess, and the King Amarinceus and the others. All the while he kept a weather eye out for Laurent's promised mockery, though even that wasn't enough to diminish Damen's enjoyment.
...The movement of the stars! Beyond the stars!
Dividing man from beast, hero from host,
That proves best, best, that only death can reach,
Yet cannot die because it will be said, be sung,
Now, and in time to be, for evermore.'
Damen reached for a bookmark from the table and stuck it in the page, then closed it and looked at Laurent, awaiting his judgment.
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