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 returned to his chair, slumping into it and reaching for a piece of meat pastry to nibble upon. "What?" he asked, cold and sharp with his own misery. "Look beyond the temper, the rape threats, the death threats, and see... what? A creature that likes poetry? What a pitiful monster you are. You think that a little bit of literature will be enough to outweigh the rest, and that if only I could ignore the very real threats and see only the poetry, I'd see the 'truth'. To what advantage? So that a cruel, petty creature like you would be pleased with me?"

Rising again to his feet, Laurent drained his cup and tossed it carelessly aside, the very image of a callous, cruel young prince.

"Go ahead and hate me." Better that than lusting after him.

He turned to leave.

Damen felt sick. Laurent was relentless, and fighting back would only prove what he claimed was true, and yet he mocked Damen's very attempts to show he was not a monster. What course was left for him? There was nothing, only despair and destruction. It was just a matter of running out the years now.

There was a strange glassiness to his eyes as he watched Laurent. This was not his salvation. "A cruel, petty creature," Damen repeated slowly. "You seem to have intimate experience with those."

His gaze bore into Laurent's back. "Is this the truth of you, then? Someone worthy of hate?"

"Yes," Laurent answered, with a self-loathing little laugh.

Clenching his fist, Laurent walked away, returning to his room.

His heart ached with loneliness and despair. At best, he could hope to be hated and left alone by his jailer. At worst, the monster would make good on his threats, or find a way to seek some new entertainment from him.

Exhausted, he stripped down and curled into his bed, lying there sleeplessly for hours.

Damen slept little that night. It took a vast quantity of wine to get drunk enough to even feel dazed, much less sleepy, and the invisible wind tsked at him as he drained yet another cup. It was deep into the night before he found any sodden rest, and he woke fitfully far too early.

Yet he had an agreement to keep. Woodenly, he dressed amd crept down to the library, feeling like death warmed over from the rough night, Laurent's words impossible to block out. He'd contemplated simply sending the Prince a message and freeing him from the morning's engagement.

Damen, however, had decided that the only thing he could really fall back on was the preservation of his honor, regardless of how ruthlessly Laurent mocked him for it. And so he was there in the library in the early hours, having already eaten, an untouched tray of pastries and silver coffee service on the little table before the chair where he sat silently. Everything he'd known of Laurent thus far suggested the Prince would honor his word as well and come.

Laurent was surprised to find the beast waiting for him in the library.

He stopped for a moment at the edge of the alcove, regarding the beast with a calm, impassive stare, and then he walked away.

He returned within a minute with a book, setting it down on the edge of the table and taking his seat across from the Beast, no longer paying him any attention as he poured himself coffee, adding cream and sugar, and selected one of the pastries to nibble upon.

Damen's eyes flickered, watching his movements, but he followed suit in coolness, with only a "Good morning" breaking the silence between them as Laurent came close. He said nothing more, he did not even stare, simply aware in all his senses of Laurent's nearness. Their chairs were not miles apart. But if Laurent would play as ifnothing had happened, then Damen could do no less.

He turned to his own book, no poetry today but rather a book of Veretian maps, its provinces and cities described in detail. If Damen had ever been to Vere himself, it must have been as a very young boy, for he remembered nothing about the country himself. He read today with no expectations of ingratiating himself to Laurent by this study; he did not believe anything would. But Damen was nearly as interested in foreign lands and cultures as he was in languages, and learning this might, perhaps, give him a very small insight into the places his prisoner had known all his life.

Laurent studied the Beast as he ate, intrigued by the reading material. After he finished his pastry, he picked up his book. It wasn't the one he'd been reading before, as he didn't want to begin that one from the top. He'd picked a different one, which he'd read some years ago and wanted to re-read.

Opening to the first page, Laurent began to read out loud. His tone was pleasantly modulated, shaping the words evenly but not bothering to bring any particular performance to the recitation.

Looking up at the sound of Laurent's voice, Damen let his attention focus on the unceremonious reading. There was nothing about the Veretian words that gave him trouble; he had studied the language for years upon years, having taken the condescending attitude of the Veretian envoys as a boy with the approach of a challenge to be beaten soundly. An Akielon who spoke their language almost as well as they did - perhaps more, for he knew much obscure and outdated vocabulary that might be encountered in the older books - was indeed a slap in the face to such pride.

At first Damen listened almost out of duty, an obligation between them fulfilled. Laurent made a pleasant narrator, and he was easy to listen to, but there was not much joy in that alone for Damen, after last night. And yet, as the introduction flew by and Damen began to feel invested in the main characters, he found that there was more enjoyment to be had out of the story than he had thought. Laurent's straight tone only served to highlight an amusing scene, and the corners of Damen's mouth turned in what might have been a smile or a grimace, it was hard to tell on the beastly face.

Laurent read for over an hour, pausing occasionally to drink his coffee or to nibble at one of the pastries. When his voice grew tired, he finally marked the page and set the book aside, rising to his feet. He'd discharged his duty, at least for the time being. He would return tomorrow morning to continue reading. Until then, he wanted a walk and freedom.

He said not a word to the Beast. It was better, he found, if they didn't try to converse.

Damen did not try to stop him, but he followed Laurent's departure with a solemnity that did not carry much hope with it. If Laurent refused to even speak with him, they would be stuck in this impasse forever.

Which is why he sent a note to be delivered with Laurent's lunch, whether he chose to take it outside or in his rooms: The west gardens make a gracious setting for a game of chess and a view of the sunset. It was an invitation, not a demand, although he didn't know if Laurent would see it that way or not.

Either way, Damen slowly paced the gardens late that afternoon, a bistro set arranged beneath a pergola and spread out with a large golden chess set. The west gardens were filled with plants designed to attract butterflies, and several varieties flitted around, their wings catching the slanted rays of the sun.

Laurent got the note out on his ride, and was surprised and curious again as to how the Beast's magic always knew where he was and what he was doing.

He showed up comfortably before sunset, warily admiring the beautiful array in the gardens.

Whatever his hesitations about his host, Laurent didn't wish to refuse any invitations unless it was necessary. His tongue might be acidic, but Laurent has been trained with courtly manners, and defaults to them when possible.

"Good evening, Beast," he said, taking his seat at the table and reaching for the crystal goblet of honeyed white wine that was awaiting him, finding it perfumed by fresh fruits and a hint of flowers.

He was surprised to find that the Beast played chess, but not as surprised as he might have been a few days before. The Beast wished to make a gentleman of himself. Learning chess was, therefore, necessary. It was probable he'd never had a human opponent.

"Good evening. I am honored to be greeted." Damen's voice was dry but pleasant as he leisurely moved to take the other seat. In truth, he was flattered that Laurent had joined him. The Prince could just have easily chosen not to join him, and there would have been no repercussions. Of course, whether Laurent believed that was another matter entirely. And talking to him was a very promising sign.

Laurent by late afternoon glow was more stunning even than by candlelight. If he was hoping to hide from the Beast's gaze, this was certainly the opposite effect. Carefully, Damen made his observation almost off-handed. "You have some color in your cheeks. Was your time outdoors enjoyable?"

Leaning back in his chair, he waved a hand at the board to indicate Laurent's turn first. It had been a long time since he'd played with another human. There was a magic he'd found that would play against him, and it posed plenty of challenge, but this? This was brand new territory, playing with Laurent. If he could only keep his temper, perhaps this wouldn't be an unmitigated disaster.

Laurent's eyes lingered upon the beast with as much wary calculation as ever. Being able to assess the beast's intent and threat was a matter of survival to him. Even if he constantly prodded at the beast's temper, that was as much a calculation as anything else. He needed to know how far the beast would go in a rage, and he'd rather find that out up front than after some weeks or months here.

He made his move, a perfectly standard opening play, and then picked up a morsel of food, considering it with lazy calculation. "How is it," he asked, "that you always seem to know where I am within your realm? How did you know that I'd touched your roses?"

Damen, for his part, was quite placid in his chair as he countered without hesitation. The sunset might not be quite so kind to his beastly form, but there were fewer shadows here, and more butterflies that hovered nearby for distractions of beauty, and there was a sweet fragrance lingering in the air that could only be the fresh new scent of blossoms recently opened.

He considered Laurent speculatively. How much to tell him? How much could Laurent handle. "Magic, of course," Damen said, the tips of his fangs showing as he half-grinned, well knowing that answer would be less than satisfactory. "I like to know where your curiosity takes you. It took me years to fully explore these realms. But... those roses, I have a special interest in watching. As you might guess, they have a greater portion of magic in them than nearly anywhere else here."

It was all he could say, under the terms of the curse, but Laurent was smart, he would know they were important, given that his father's life was forfeit for just one of them.

Watching was the word that stuck out in Laurent's mind. The Beast might be getting reports from his magic, might be stalking Laurent on his adventures. Watching. He'd said it in regards to the roses, but it was still the wrong word to use for Laurent's suspicions.

Laurent played with a veneer of idle impatience, taking very little time to think about his moves. He had a game in mind that he'd played before. He knew the outcome, he knew the route. It was just a matter of leading the Beast into it and giving him little time to think about what was happening.

Laurent yielded the center of the board, letting the Beast wash through more and more of his pieces, until the advantage seemed overwhelming and Laurent seemed a foolish, reckless player who didn't take the time to think.

Until the trap sprung, because he'd drawn all of Damen's pieces to the wrong side of the board, and Laurent's pawn had a clear path to reach the end, become Queen, and claim the King. It was three moves to checkmate, but it was already inevitable.

"So you were watching me," he says, leaning back in his chair and waiting for the Beast to see it, to analyze the board enough to know that there is no way out.

Watching, ironically, was the most mild of terms Damen could have used. Guarding, obsessing, leaping upon any who dared harm them - these things would have only reminded Laurent of how easily the Beast could have taken his father's life, could still take his own, while at the same time would have given him far too much power over Damen's very existence as more than a Beast.

A tidy pile of white pieces accumulated on his side, and Damen began to wonder just what sort of purpose Laurent seemed to be at, giving up so many of his important players. By the time he saw it, it was too late. Guarding his features carefully, Damen looked up, a flat stare leveled at the indolent Prince.

"It's my new favorite hobby," he said flippantly, curious to see if the admission would unsettle Laurent. "You're...interesting." He moved his own Queen to an undefended spot on his opponent's side, as if there were no danger of the pawn on his side of the board at all. "And life here grows tedious, at times."

"I'm your entertainment. I understand." The last few moves were rote, as the Beast seemed disinclined to surrender.

Laurent claimed the king, turning it idly between his fingers. His expression did not flicker. It was hardly a surprise, really, when it had already been one of his theories that the Beast watched him. "How civilized of you, to only lust upon me from afar as you watch me dress and bathe."

He was not interested in hearing any protestations to the contrary. Now that the Beast had admitted that he did watch him, there was nothing he could say that would convince Laurent that any part of his privacy was respected.

"Would you prefer other occupations?"

Laurent claimed his prize, and Damen was quite content with the place he'd earned, one or two moves away from a checkmate of his own. Laurent would not be able to pull that particular trick with him again.

The accusation was one that Damen had no wish to deny - or confirm, for that matter. He was hardly proud of those moments he'd yielded to temptation and indulged in the sight of Laurent's naked beauty, but he could have done much, much worse, and they both knew it. "More welcome than pressing my company upon you, I think," he replied dryly, "Even in such 'civilized' settings as these."

The invisible servants, as if by wordless command or lucky guessing that the two lords wished to dine outside, began clearing the board and laying out the main courses. They refilled Laurent's wine glass, and brought a streamlined version of the dinner spread that usually had an entire long feast-table to sprawl out on; things had to be much more compact on this smaller round tabletop.

Looking at some of the rich dishes laid out, Damen felt his stomach growl. He hadn't had the chance to eat beforehand like he usually did. He eyed the assortment almost jealously, wondering if he should chance eating in front of Laurent, just this once.

"You see, Beast?" Laurent responded, waving a hand toward him as though some point had been proven. "This is why I disdain you. Because a part of you remains that wants to rape me. You wouldn't find it a humorous subject to reference, otherwise. No matter how sensible or civilized the greater part of you, it cannot outweigh your desire to savage me."

Laurent watched him coldly over the table as the things were laid out for them. Once the dishes settled, Laurent reached for his wine goblet and drank.

He'd won their game, but the Beast had not been a poor opponent. Laurent would need to play more warily next time. The Beast would know that every move contained traps.

Damen's stare was harder, at this. "Have you ever considered," he said slowly, "that that greater part of me hates the part that has the power to savage?" He shook his head, his voice growing harsh. "Of course you haven't. There is nothing about that knowledge that suits your charming narrative of the monster who simply wants to rape and ravage you. You wish for reasons to disdain me utterly - you don't need to look hard."

There was a kind of self-aware bitterness about the way he accepted this, like he'd long ago decided who he was and that that Beast was an inevitability.

Little did Laurent realize his own power in this, for good or ill.

Damen drained his own glass, and almost resignedly reached for a piece of roast chicken. What did it matter if Laurent saw him eat? He already thought him a savage in every way. This was a mere formality by comparison.

Laurent tipped his head to the side, brow furrowed slightly in thought. He studied the beast as he ate--monstrously, of course, but he was hardly to be blamed for that.

"I don't disdain you utterly, Beast. Only in part. The part that plays chess and reads poetry makes for a tolerable companion. But it is rather dreadfully overshadowed by the part that is wrathful and cruel, that threatens rape and murder, that stalks me and robs me of my freedom and privacy."

Resting his head on his fist, Laurent nibbled at a bite of food, continuing to study the beast as he ate. "You have a fixation upon a narrative of your own, don't you? Hated for your form, though you long to be respected as a man of taste. A man." Laurent's lips quirked, wry and a little bit cruel. "A human. I wonder if a part of you is promoting that narrative of the savage beast. You feel it's inevitable, so you want to press me to hate you, in order to spare you the deliberation. And yet you're torn by this part of you that wants to believe that you're gentle and honorable and would never carry out your threats."

Laurent turned a piece of cheese between his fingers, contemplating it for a moment. He ate it, then drank more of the sweet rosy wine. So. Maybe the Beast was interesting after all, as a puzzle.

As a challenge. Laurent did like a challenge.

The dainty table manners of the Veretian Prince only underscored the divide between them. Damen thought he'd be beyond shame at the way his fangs could only rip the meat off the bone, its juices smearing his mouth. Apparently, he thought as he reached for the napkin to wipe his face, he'd been wrong.

Laurent was not entirely wrong. But this 'savage beast' it wasn't just something that Damen felt; it was inevitable, if he didn't break the curse in time.

"I would never -" The words came bursting out, stopped abruptly as Damen realized he couldn't promise it. While he was himself, while he still had the control he possessed now, he would never do anything to hurt Laurent. Even if the Prince harmed his roses, he would only be thrown in the dungeons. But if his heart grew hardened and his mind that of a true Beast, what would he be capable of? What control would he have over anything?

"Is it working?" Damen said, half-mocking. "Have I spared you any concern for the deluded animal's aspirations to manhood with my beastly ways?"

"Concern, Beast? No. Not at all." Laurent knocked back the glass of wine. He was consuming quite a bit more of his dinner in liquid form this evening. "Curiosity, at most. As you have observed, this castle does not offer much in the way of entertainment."

The glass refilled itself. As always. Laurent felt the urge to throw it and watch it smash, just to see whether it would reform through magic, or if it would stay broken.

"You want to be civilized. I want the same: for you to be civilized. Why don't..."

With effort, Laurent set the glass back on the table unharmed.

"I give you lessons."

Damen stopped. Stared at him. A little dribble of the peach he was eating by hand ran down his chin. Instinctively, he wiped it away with the back of his hand.

Lessons. Who did Laurent think he was? Damen had had plenty of lessons in deportment. He was the Crown Prince of Akielos, for blood's sake. (Not anymore, whispered an insidious voice in his head. Not now that Kastor had free rein there.) But still. He didn't...

Wrathful and cruel... threatens rape and murder...

Damen eyed him warily. "You're offering to give me...civilization lessons." It was something he couldn't turn down summarily, for it was Laurent offering to voluntarily spend time with him. But like the chess game, he felt it was an all too easy victory. "What would they entail? What are your conditions?"

"Simple," Laurent said, plans taking shape in his head as he spoke. He picked up an orange, already peeled, began delicately eating it segment by segment. "You obey my instructions and attempt my tests. They won't necessarily be pleasant. As you succeed, we will have breakfast and reading in the morning, walks in the garden in the afternoon, pleasant dinners, and games of chess in the evening. Each time you fail or refuse, I'll lock myself in my room and spend the day reading, endeavoring to be as un-entertaining as possible. The next morning, we'll begin again."

He wasn't providing any option or alternative. The Beast had let Laurent figure out an adequate portion of what he wanted. And now Laurent intended to use it to control him.

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

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