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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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.

Damen weighed these explanations for a long, long time. He swirled his wine in its glass, contemplating. What Laurent asked for afforded him a great deal of control. They were unspecified as well, which worried Damen greatly. 'Unpleasant' could encompass a wide range of possibilities. On the other hand, the rewards were exactly the sort of thing he wished to ensue, voluntarily rather than by coercion. And if he succeeded at Laurent's tests, he'd be earning his favor, wouldn't he?

"I suppose it wouldn't do any good to ask what manner of tests these will be," he said dryly, and downed his goblet.

When he emerged, he met Laurent's gaze head-on. "Very well, then. You may attempt to tame the Beast. None have tried before, so you may have the satisfaction of being the first." And last, Damen hoped, for already more roses had begun to crumble on the vine since the latest explosion, and he could not afford to waste time with fruitless efforts.

He turned his hand over, palm up, and the insides of his paw bore the traces of a scar where Laurent's knife had rammed through the base of his thumb, and little pinpricks where his claws had dug repeatedly curled into the skin. "I too am...curious about this experiment."

Laurent placed his hand within the Beast's paw, clasping it in order to seal the deal. "Good. Then we are agreed."

Sitting back, Laurent helped himself to food with more appetite, watching his host as he considered where to begin. "First, you will control your temper. No matter how maddening I may be or how much I might goad you, you will be as patient as a stone. Secondly, you will discard this habit of gallows humor that you've used several times at my expense. You will not make any threats toward me, nor will you make any dark jests about ravaging me. If I make any reference toward such, I expect your responses to be either bland or earnest to the effect that you will do everything in your power to restrain your baser urges."

The Beast's companionship might actually be tolerable, if he could obey Laurent's terms.

The voluntary touch made Damen almost startle, Laurent's hand was so smooth and cool within his own, the slender pale fingers dwarfed by the enormous paw. It still didn't seem like his own hand, sometimes.

He wondered what sort of devil's bargain he'd shook upon.

Expecting Laurent to start from the outside in, Damen quickly realized that he wouldn't be that lucky. The terms sounded infuriating. He wasn't sure if he could last two minutes under them. He'd be effectively muzzled...but then, wasn't he already? Any outburst sent Laurent running, hating him even more. At least this way, they might have half a chance of being in the same room together for more than ten minutes.

Damen clasped his paws together. "Only blond, blue-eyed Princes are allowed to make such references. Understood." However, he made no actual protests. Laurent was testing him. Seeing how much it would take before he snapped. His pride dictated that he make a valiant effort.

"Are there any other starting conditions I should know about? Expectations, admonitions?"

"As I think of them," Laurent said, grinning a tiny bit. "I'm glad you understand."

He ate a bit more, enjoying the sight of the Beast chafing under the new rules. This was already so much better. It made him want to spend more time around the Beast, to see how far he could push, how much he could get away with.

Laurent pushed away his plate, satisfied. "What else is there for entertainment, Beast? The library, a few games of chess, watching your captives. Anything else?"

Damen gave a low, hmph, but it wouldn't be so bad, would it? Just how awful could Laurent be to him?

Pretty awful, suggested that wicked voice in his head.

He quaffed another refilled glass of the sparkling rosé before answering Laurent's question. "It depends on where your tastes lie, I suppose. There's a music room, a gallery of paintings and sculptures - and artist's quarters, if you've a mind to dabble yourself - or the solarium, which contrary to what its name might suggest is an excellent place to stargaze once the sun has set."

Already it was beginning to sink towards the horizon, a soft wash of purples and pinks amidst the orange. There were more fiery sunsets to be had, after the rainier days, but it would still look quite stunning in the glass arbor, and the moon would not be rising until the very early morning. Damen was safe to accompany him for quite a few hours yet.

He looked at Laurent, and tried on his new manners for size. "What are you in the mood for?"

"Show me the gallery."

Laurent rose to his feet, drawing up his spine and extending a limp hand toward the Beast in the expectation that he would be provided a steady arm to rest it upon. With their new agreement in place, he could be more relaxed with the beast. He held the leash.

"Unless I can dare to hope that you play some instrument in your music room." Laurent's lips curved the tiniest bit, though his eyes stayed cool and guarded.

Rising, Damen offered up his arm, almost out of habit, a long-dormant one that manifested before he was entirely conscious of it. It was a little startling. He hadn't expected Laurent's 'taming' to have such immediate effect. "The gallery it is."

He made a light sound beside the Prince as, arm-in-arm, they began to walk inside, Damen leading him in the direction of the appropriate hall. "None that you would wish to hear for pleasure," he replied in kind, rather dryly. "Although if it's amusement you seek, hearing me attempt the harp might provide a solid minute of it."

This...wasn't so bad, Damen realized in a bit of a daze. Talking with Laurent as though they were equals, as though he wasn't a fearsome Beast and Laurent a delicate prisoner he could rip to pieces at any moment. He realized, with even more amazement, that he was enjoying it.

"Surely a princely education included music of some kind," he ventured, hoping to extend the dialogue. "If you were to grace us with your specialty, what would it be?"

"What, with my temperament?" Laurent strolled easily at the Beast's side, keeping hold of his arm as though this was merely a pleasant walk with some suitor that he hadn't yet bothered to discourage. "My father finally gave it up, after I made adequately clear that I had neither interest nor inclination for music. I was apt enough for my other studies, so he let that one go."

His eyes flicked toward his companion. How odd the Beast looked, walking like this. Unnatural. "So you've made the effort of learning the harp. I can see how the claws might be suited to that. You should trim them, though, or they'll cut the strings."

"A good thing I wasn't expecting a concert flutist, then. I would have been gravely disappointed."

He slowed his strides to match his companion's, for though Laurent's legs were long (a fact Damen couldn't help but visually observe), the Beast who escorted him had limbs both longer and more hugely muscled. It had taken him several years to learn to walk upright so easily as on all fours, after the transformation. Even now, it wasn't what anybody would call graceful. Still, there was an innate power to his movements, as there might have been to a bear's, lumbering yet vigorous.

Damen felt uncomfortably aware of this brush with his former humanity, for he'd learned the harp as a young Prince of Akielos, and been quite good at it too, when he was between campaigns and actually had time to practice rather than train with the army. He held up his other arm, presenting his hand for inspection. "They're retractable, like a cat's. Except instead of naturally resting inward, they're more comfortable out." The claws quivered for a moment, then disappeared into the grooves between his fingers. "If I wish to play, I pull them in. But I still manage to pluck two strings for every one that I actually want to play. Fortunately, the harp is a very forgiving instrument, where the rebec would merely mock my attempts to make music on it."

"It seems to me," Laurent said, his tone light and dry enough that it was hard to tell whether he was teasing, "that you simply need to get a larger harp. If you're trying to use a human-sized harp, no wonder you're having trouble."

Laurent kept his stride elegant and easy, not minding that the Beast had to slow for him. It was hardly as though they were in any kind of hurry, and the Beast's company was tolerable now that Laurent had given him these new rules. "Have you always lived here, Beast?"

Damen snorted lightly, enjoying the volley. "If only I'd had a double-sized harp commissioned earlier, I could have been a concert harpist by now. Oh, the years I have wasted."

His paws trod softly across the carpet of the hall that led to the gallery. He strolled with more ease himself, feeling as though Laurent was not dying to run away from him at the first opportunity. Damen turned them towards the open staircase at the end of the hall and began to climb. It gave him something to do while he considered how to answer that question.

"I've lived here for...many years," he said at last. "When there was no place for me anymore in the company I grew up in. Now, I cannot leave. It's a better life than I would have among men." Damen grimaced. "I've never liked the tale of Theseus. I always felt sorry for the Minotaur." And his own fate would no doubt be similar if he could go among men.

"It's a better life than most in the world have," Laurent commented, glancing out across the great hall they were passing through. "All this luxury and comfort. Even with the loneliness."

He smirked at the Beast's suggestion he felt sorry for the Minotaur. Unsurprising. "I felt sorry for the twelve youths sacrificed to the Minotaur. Hunted like prey and then raped or eaten. Though I would not be terribly surprised to discover that it was a scheme on the part of Minos. That he had some other purpose for the youths, and the Minotaur was merely a scapegoat--or, more likely, a man wearing a taxidermied bull's head. It would hardly be the most absurd scheme a king had ever wrought in order to maintain power."

Damen merely bowed his head. It was a hollow fortune, to live in this monstrous form with a full belly and a heart being slowly turned inhuman. If it were not for that, he might have been able to have a very comfortable existence here indeed. The loneliness he could bear; the decay of his being from man to animal was something he could not.

"I suspect as you do - that the version of the tale we know is a very one-sided history of the matter. Or highly dramaticized for shock. Truth is rarely so neatly portioned out." Damen touched a paw to a passing sculpture and sighed almost imperceptibly. "I once thought it was, that truth was something set in stone and easily discovered. Now, I question much of what I was taught to believe."

He confessed it quietly to Laurent, the halls silent apart from their footsteps. There was no one else to hear him here, no one who could speak at least, where once there were a thousand to overhear and tell tales of their own.

"I'm glad to hear that," Laurent said, eyes lingering on the Beast. He was pleased by the creature's love of beauty--of art, of literature--and pleased that the creature did have a sense of logic. Perhaps something could be made of him after all. They could learn to tolerate each other, with these new rules, and a shared love of art and reading. "I think it's important to question the things you took as given, and to doubt those that you once would have trusted implicitly. It's a sort of growing up, and I don't think everyone reaches that stage."

He stayed close beside the beast, arm hooked around the beast's massive forearm, body lithe and graceful even with the simple act of walking down a corridor. He made the beast look graceful simply by his presence.

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

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