Nov 30, 2019
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Weekend mode is on! ✌ ___________________________ . . . #weekend #vibes #black #friday #sales #onlinesales #suit #black #curduroy #dontcare #fashionphoto #style #aralie https://www.instagram.com/p/B5e-MywlcLi/?igshid=rocqxpnp5mzz
The Bargain: Prologue
Rating: Teen Relationships: Female Human x Male Demon/Elf Additional Tags: Arranged Marriage, Marriage, Demons, Elves, Princes, Princesses, Monster Boyfriend, Monster Husband Content Warnings: Blood Mention, Pregnancy, Babies Words: 5193
Based on "The Princes" series of shorts written by tumblr user @your-monster-romance, with her permission.
Read the Original Shorts Here: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4 The Following Chapters: Pallidus, Viribus, Genus, Gale (NSFW), Fawn (NSFW), Tyria (NSFW), Epilogue
Of the mistakes King Rodai had made during his reign, getting involved in another country’s war had proven to be the worst.
He had done it with noble intentions; he sought only to aid the neighboring king, who had been his close friend since childhood. He thought that his assistance would be limited to offering shelter to the refugees and sending weapons and food to the soldiers, but in time, more was asked of him. More food, more weapons. Soon it was money and resources. And then soldiers. By the end of the first year of his involvement, he had sent half of his wealth and most of his army, none of which had returned.
Five years on, and he had gone from a man rich in sons, power, and the love of his people, to a broken, despised widower king with only a small boy, Coll, to inherit a country crumbling beneath his feet. Rodai’s wife, after having lost four of her five sons to war, died herself of grief, and it was this loss that had finally pushed Rodai to act.
His childhood friend, the king he had sought to help, had been deposed and sent into exile mere weeks ago, and the conqueror who now sat in his throne had his sights set on Rodai’s kingdom, Suida. And it would fall. Gods knew, it would fall.
The only hope Rodai now had was to make a deal with the devil.
The vast Empire of Cavernae was said to be a fairy tale, something fit only as a campfire legend or bedtime story. No one really believed it even existed. It wasn’t even mentioned in history books anymore. Perhaps that was best.
But Rodai’s father, the previous king, had been a superstitious man of the Old Ways and taught his son in secret how to find this elusive kingdom. It would be difficult, he had said, since the entrance moved rather frequently to prevent unwanted visitors. Even then, finding it would cost you something. Blood, a year of your life, an eye, maybe.
It was worth it, Rodai believed. For his people, for his last living son, Rodai swore he would pay any price. An oath he would come to regret.
He had left his castle alone one night, slipping past his guards disguised as a horseman, and made his way into the forest at the foot of the Great Mountain with nothing but the clothes on his back and a bag with a few essentials. He did not bring jewels or money, since he no longer had either in his coffers. He could only hope that he might still possess something worth bartering, even if it was his own life.
After two days of sleepless searching, he found himself in a clearing. The winter woods around them were dark and cold and full of dead, lifeless trees, but this circle of meadow was lush and green under his boots, as though spring existed here in perpetuity.
This must be it, Rodai thought. It has to be.
Taking a knife from his bag, he put the point of it to his wrist and dug in, not deep enough to kill him but enough that a steady trickle of blood fell to the meadow floor, painting the green grass red at his feet.
“Hear me,” He said, hissing at the pain. “I seek an audience with the Demon King of Cavernae. I offer my blood, and whatever else he might wish, as a show of good faith. Open the way and let me pass.”
Vines snaked between his legs and around, creating a doorway behind him. He could still see the forest and meadow beyond it, but it wavered as though looking through imperfect glass. After wrapping his wrist with a spare sock from his bag, he stepped toward the gateway. Reaching out a cautious hand, he saw that his fingers disappeared as they crossed the threshold. Taking a long, slow breath, he stepped forward and into the barrier.
He did naught but close his eyes, but in the span it took him to blink, he had left the clearing and was standing at one end of a grand hallway.
Before him, walking toward him quickly, came two… men? No, these creatures he saw couldn’t possibly have been mortal men. They were demons, rightly enough. One had dark red skin like brick, the other bright red, like holly berries, both standing head and shoulders above him. They must have been guards; it was their stance that gave it away. They walked up to him and stopped, their eyes bore down at him quizzically.
“State your business,” One of the guards said, his voice was like two stones being rubbed together.
“I…” Rodai began. “I am King Rodai of Suida. I seek to parlay with your king. I apologize that I arrived unannounced, but the matter is urgent.”
“He has been expecting you,” The other replied, his voice much the same as his companion. “You’ve come very late. He is otherwise occupied at the moment. You must wait.”
“I will,” Rodai said. “I will wait as long as it takes.”
“Very well,” They turned and began to walk the hallway. “Follow.”
Rodai obeyed, and followed them to a very large sitting area just off the main hall. It was lavish and extravagant. The chairs and couches and footstools were made of fabrics and furs and leathers he’d never encountered before. He picked up and examined a wine decanter so fragile and delicate that he thought it may have been made of dragonfly wings.
“Why is it men wait so long to reach out for help?” He heard a voice ask. He spun on his heel and saw a woman standing at the doorway, holding a moving bundle in her arms.
She was unlike anything he’d yet seen, and he’d seen plenty at his age. She was blue, all varieties of blue. Her skin was pale celeste, her long hair crested scarab blue and faded down to white at the tips. Her eyes were a solid lapis hue all the way across. He was unable to discern where the irises and pupils were from where the white part should have been; it was all just one color. Even the thin dress she wore was sapphire in color, over which she wore a sheer white dressing gown of lace that seemed to have been woven from the dew on a spider’s web and trailed far behind her. She looked like a moving sculpture carved of glacier ice, dusted with snow. She even had a smattering of white freckles on her nose, as if she had indeed been standing outside in the snowfall.
Rodai collected himself and bowed, realizing this must be the dark emperor's queen. As he rose, he looked again at the bundle in her arms, and a small, waving grey fist popped out from between the cloth, grasping for her fingers. He felt a stab of pain at the sight, remembering a time not so long ago when his last son had been born, a time when he was still happy, his wife still lived, and his land was still whole.
“My Lady,” He said. “Thank you for allowing me passage into your land. I was not certain I would be accepted.”
“We’ve been waiting for you, Rodai of Suida,” She replied, her voice like the crack of a whip. “I must say, I’m surprised you waited so long to ask for our help. Would it not have been wiser to come sooner? Before your sons and wife were lost?”
Her words were like another knife through his heart. “Her Majesty is blunt.”
“This is not the time for tact,” She said shrewdly. “I am not without sympathy, King Rodai, but you have waited far too long. What you seek may no longer be within reach.”
“It has to be!” Rodai replied emphatically. “I’ll do anything, I’ll give anything. I just want my people and my son to be safe and well. I know it is much to ask, but your husband is a man of great power. Surely he can accomplish such a feat.”
“That is for him to decide,” She said. Her eyes darted and her head turned slightly, as though she were listening to something. “Come. You have been summoned.”
He followed her out of the receiving room and into an absolutely enormous great hall made entirely of black marble. At the other end was a long, wide stairway, and at the top was a throne sitting on a gold dais.
Sitting there was a man, straight-backed and imposing, peering down at Rodai. His eyes similar to that of his wife’s, but instead of solid blue, his were solid white. His skin was the color of the smoke from an oil fire, and he wore garments of black, red, and gold. From the nest of black curls on his head rose horns, long and twisting, shiny black near his head and fading to red near the points. He sat with his legs crossed, regarding Rodai thoughtfully, his hands resting on his knee. His demeanor was not arrogant or proud, but it was nonetheless commanding. Intimidating.
The Queen took the steps carefully and went to stand at her husband’s elbow, handing him the bundle as she did so. The Demon King cradled his child with one arm and rubbed his chin with the other, waiting.
Rodai bowed. “My Lord--” He began.
“Kneel,” The Demon King said, his deep voice reverberating around the massive chamber.
Rodai looked up. “Pardon?”
“I am Zinzo, King of the Dark Creatures, Lord over all Magic, and Emperor of the Night Sky Above and the Dark Cavern Below. You will kneel.”
Rodai hesitated. Kings did not kneel to other kings. Bowing was customary as a sign of equal power and mutual respect, but kneeling was a sign of inferiority, of weakness. To kneel before someone was to surrender to that person, and a king did not surrender to anyone. It was simply unheard of.
Well, Rodai thought. I may not be a king before long, as it stands.
Slowly, as he had never done this before and it felt most unnatural, Rodai took a knee before King Zinzo.
Zinzo smiled. It wasn’t comforting.
“You may rise,” He said. His voice reminded Rodai of a stone falling down a hill, rumbling and terror-inducing to anyone in its path. “I know of your plight, King of Suida. However, you have nothing now that is of any use to me. Therefore, it would not benefit me to help you.”
“I will give you anything, anything at all,” Rodai pleaded. “There must be something you need. Something I could do. I’ll work it off, if I have to. I’ll be your servant, I’ve give you every coin that comes into my hands, I will give you my life, if that’s what you want. Anything to save my people.” His eyes looked down and the sleeping baby in King Zinzo’s arms. “For my son, I will do anything. I would give anything. I swear to you.”
“Anything, you say?” Zinzo said in a curiously soft, slow voice. His smile widened, revealing very white, very sharp teeth. “Interesting.” He rose from his throne, keeping a tight grip of his infant, and walked slowly down the stairs. “I think I might just be able to work something out for you.”
“Thank you,” Rodai breathed in relief. “Thank you, my Lord. What recompense would you have from me?”
“Oh, nothing you have at the moment is of any interest to me. Perhaps one day, though, you may be able to repay me.”
“Yes, anything, just name it,” Rodai said.
Zinzo stopped in front of him. “Children.”
The blood drained from Rodai’s face in horror. “I’m sorry, My Lord, I don’t understand.
“I want children. Specifically, your children,” Zinzo clarified.
Rodai’s heart began to hammer in his chest. “Please, Your Majesty, please, my son is all I have left.”
Zinzo waved his hand impatiently. “Not the son, I have plenty of those.” He bounced the infant a little to emphasize his point. “I want daughters. My sons will need brides when they become men. It’s becoming harder to find women of nobility among the elves and fae that are not already interbred. I was fortunate to find Yuana,” Zinzo motioned his head to the blue lady standing beside the throne. “But there are few of our women left to which my sons are not already related. Seems the logical option is to begin marrying them off to humans, as inferior a species in magic as they may be. It would not be my first choice, but we are desperate men, are we not?”
Rodai was confused. “But I have no daughters.”
“Not yet,” Zinzo said with a sly grin. “But you are not an old man by any measure. Still young enough to find another wife and father more children. I only need three, though. Should you have any addition children, they will be yours to keep.”
Rodai blinked and watched Zinzo warily.
“Do we have a deal?” Zinzo asked him.
Three daughters? How would he achieve that? What if he didn’t? What if he never remarried or had a mistress? He had dearly loved his late wife and had no interest in remarrying. What if the daughters Zinzo requested never came to be? What would Zinzo do?
“Y…Yes,” Rodai said.
Zinzo stuck out a hand with abnormally long fingers, the tips of which were red, like his horns. “Very well,” He said. “Take my hand and the contract will be sealed.”
Slowly, carefully, as though expecting an attack, Rodai reached out his hand and clasped Zinzo’s.
All at once, there was a flash and he felt a push against his chest, which knocked him breathless and to the ground, and when he opened his eyes again, he was sitting on the ground of his bedroom back at his castle, wearing his evening clothes as though the trip through the forest had never taken place. Had he dreamed the whole thing? He hoped not. What of the deal he had made?
A banging on his bedroom door interrupted his spiraling thoughts and made him jump.
“My lord?” A guard called through the door. “Are you all right? It is midday and you have not come out. Shall I call a doctor?”
“No,” Rodai called weakly, looking out the window. It was indeed midday. “I’m fine, I will be out in a few moments.”
A fortnight later, an ambassador sent from the Conqueror King arrived at the castle to speak with King Rodai. Rodai was reluctant to receive him, but did so under heavy guard.
Once seated in Rodai’s private office, he said, “What business does the Conqueror King have, Ambassador Rook?”
The ambassador, an elderly man with a crown of wispy white hair, said, “My lord sends me with a message of peace.”
Rodai snorted. “I highly doubt that.”
“He has decided not to invade your country. In fact, he’s offering a trade deal with you. You would benefit greatly from this offer. Should you refuse, however, he will attack.”
Rodai was disgusted. Trade with the man that had killed his men and usurped his friend’s throne? Madness. But if he didn’t, the cost would be high.
“What are the conditions?” Rodai asked in exasperation. “I know there are conditions. He wouldn’t just decide to offer me a peace accord if there was nothing in it for him.”
“There is only one condition,” The ambassador said. “You must wed his daughter, Aralie.”
A chill shot up his spine and over his shoulders. “What?”
“You will wed Princess Aralie, and your progeny will rule both kingdoms, uniting them without conquering them.”
Zinzo’s unnerving smile crept into Rodai’s thoughts. “If I refuse?”
The ambassador shrugged. “Then you will be destroyed.”
The wedding took place nearly three months later. He met with the Conqueror King several times begrudgingly so that the contracts could be drawn up and signed. Never in all that time did Rodai ever meet his would-be bride. It seemed that would have to wait for the wedding day. Perhaps she was unattractive or deformed, something that made the king nervous about her future, which is why this was the only condition upon which he had insisted. It would make sense.
The day dawned, and Rodai dreaded every second that passed. It would be a morning ceremony so that all of the Conqueror’s ilk could party like maniacs for the remainder of the day. Disgustingly.
He stood at the altar with the Conqueror at his side, as if to make sure he stayed put. The princess was led in by her mother, wearing a simple gown of pale rose silk. Her features were neat but rather plain, not dowdy or deformed like he was expecting. Her hair was a pretty honey color and her eyes were steely grey, like her father’s. She also wasn’t as young as he expected, perhaps in her mid-to-late 20’s. He was grateful for that. He didn’t much like the idea of a child-bride.
She wasn’t the beauty his late wife had been, nor did she possess the strange etherealness of the Zinzo’s tall elven queen, but Rodai had to admit she was charming.
She smiled at him in an almost apologetic way as she approached. When she came to stand next to him at the altar in front of the priest, her father, the Conqueror, left them to stand with his wife. As he did so, Aralie leaned toward Rodai and said in a side-whisper: “Sorry.”
Rodai smiled a little and whispered back, “Me, too.”
It seemed his new wife had brought with her light and prosperity when he took her back to his land. The crops flourished, and with them came new wealth and livelihood for his subjects. Life was returning, and Rodai was grateful.
He found Aralie surprisingly easy to talk to. She was well-read and quite intelligent, and they had many interests in common. He confessed he was rather astonished that she was not already married at her age, and she admitted that her father had done a good enough job of scaring every available young man in all neighboring countries away from asking for her hand since she was old enough to marry, so it wasn’t so much a choice as it was lack of backbone on the gentlemens’ part. Rodai had to laugh at that.
They became friends very quickly, and though Rodai had committed himself to the two of them staying friends out of respect for his late wife, he couldn’t help thinking about Aralie more and more. He looked forward to talking to her each day, and he missed her company on any day when he didn’t see her. It wasn’t until nearly a year later, when she had gone to visit her father for a few weeks and he was left to pine for her, he realized he had come to love her.
He was still wary of getting too close. The promise he had made to Zinzo was at the back of his mind at all times. So he kept his distance and tried to ignore his feelings. What he didn’t count on was her feelings or her willingness to act on them.
One night, he heard the door to his sleeping quarters open and shut. Blinking groggily, he looked up to see Aralie in her sleep shift approaching with a candle.
“Aralie?” He asked, rubbing his eyes. “Are you all right? Is something the matter?”
She didn’t answer right away, instead putting the candlestick down on his bedside table and sitting on the edge of the bed, not looking at him. Her breathing was uneven and she appeared to be shaking.
“Aralie?” He reached for her shoulder, concerned. At his touch, she looked around at him.
“Rodai,” She began softly. “We’ve been married for some time now, and you’ve been a true gentleman, but I must ask: how do you feel towards me?”
Rodai was unable to answer her. He looked at her with sympathy and affection, but kept his jaw clenched shut.
At his silence, she lowered her eyes and looked away. “I know that our marriage was arranged for political reasons and that you may not feel anything for me beyond friendship, but I must confess I… I’ve become rather fond of you. I feel more than just friendship for you. So much more.”
Rodai’s heart rate hitched up. “Aralie…”
She stood before he could say more and pulled the shift she had been wearing over her head, revealing her body underneath. She let the garment fall to the floor and made to sit on her knees next to him on the bed, close but not touching. She was breathing rather fast. So was he. His hands twitched, longing to touch her, but he forced them still.
“If this is not what you want, if it’s a mistake, you need only say, and I will leave you in peace,” Aralie said, not meeting his eye. “But I… I had to know… if you wanted me as much as I want you.”
All he could do was look at her. The way her neck curved into her shoulder, the way her hair looked as it cascaded down her back, strands escaping to hang in front of her face. The pout of her lips, the shape of her eyes. The dusting of freckles across her breast. His hand moved to stroke her collarbone, and she looked at him with those wide, beautiful silvery eyes in surprise, lovely and excited and just a little bit terrified. How could he have ever thought her plain? She was perfect.
He couldn’t fight it anymore. More to the point, he didn’t want to fight it. He took her face in his hands and kissed her hard enough to wipe out any doubts she might have had about his feelings for her. He touched every inch of her body with every inch of his. He wanted her so much and he proved it. He proved it over and over again that night, and many nights after.
Happiness with her felt as natural as taking breath. It was effortless, easy. She could make him forget any trouble, any worry. And in time, he did forget. He forgot all the hardships he had faced during the war, and so did his people. She had breathed new life into him, and he in turn breathed new life into his land. With her, everything was good, and right, and just. The world was exactly as it should be.
And he forgot.
Their first child was born on a cool, clear day in spring; a perfect little baby girl. Rodai had only sons with his previous wife and never a little girl, so he hadn’t known how to handle one at first. With his son, now twelve and growing quickly, starting to train with his generals to be the next leader of the land, Rodai had much time to spoil and coddle this new little lamb, and he was more than pleased to do it. Aralie told him he had to be firm or she’d never obey him, but he couldn’t help but melt when his little girl looked at him with those sweet eyes. How could he not?
They named her Tyria after a spring blossom that collected near her nursery window that was native to his land alone. She would be tall, like her father, and nearly as tan, but her every other feature was a mirror of her mother.
Two years later, the second one came on the first day of autumn, with maple-colored hair like her father and freckles like her mother, and eyes as brown as a doe. She was a petite little thing, sweet and caring, and had an affinity for all living creatures. They named her Fawn.
She was a cuddly girl and loved nothing more than to sit in her father’s lap as he read and dictated, whereas Tyria was very independent and could often be found watching her brother’s training with interest. Coll, now fifteen, ruffled his sister’s hair with a fond laugh and told her he might teach her a few things once she got older.
Rodai had been happy before the war, but the sorrow he had experienced during and afterward made him treasure his newfound happiness all the more. Knowing what loss felt like made every moment with his family precious and irreplaceable. Priceless.
If only that odd nagging feeling would go away…
Their third daughter was born during a summer storm that threatened to blow the castle over. They named her Gale after the winds that howled to harmonize with her newborn cries of outrage. After the birth, Aralie took a well-deserved nap while Rodai held his new baby in his arms, smiling down at her. She was strong already, gripping his finger like a vice. Her curls were a mix of his brown coloring with a little of the honey of Aralie, and he thought her eyes might be blue, like his. His smile widened.
A cracking sound made him jump as a bolt of lightning hit a parapet outside the window. With that flash, a memory he had buried for the last six years re-entered his mind, one that made his heart drop like a stone.
I want daughters.
Aralie woke from her sleep to find Rodai sitting on the bed next to her, looking down at their daughter with tears streaming down his face. She could tell from his expression that these were not tears of joy.
“Rodai?” She asked him softly, pulling herself into a sitting position.
He shut his eyes tight, more tears falling, one landing on the cheek of the sleeping infant.
“Forgive me,” He said in a pained whisper. “I’m so sorry.”
“What? Why?” Aralie carefully adjusted herself so that she could see him better. Taking his cheek in her hand, she force him to look at her. “What are you sorry for?”
He took a very large breath, and said, “Before we met, after your father invaded the neighboring kingdom, I was desperate to save my people and Coll, my only remaining son and family. I would have done anything to spare him from death or worse, so I sought out help.”
“From who?”
“Zinzo, the Demon King,” He admitted to her fearfully.
A very worried look came over her face. “What did he want?”
“Something I didn’t have.” He stared down at his daughters sleeping face, his lip trembling. “Not at the time, at least.”
“Which was?”
“Brides,” Rodai said sorrowfully. “For his three sons.”
Aralie’s jaw dropped in horror. “Rodai, what did you do?”
He squeezed his eyes shut tight, holding his little girl up and pressing her forehead against his. “I made a deal.”
Aralie’s eyes filled with tears, and she covered her mouth with her hands in shock. “Rodai, how could you do such a thing?”
“How could I have known?” He asked her desperately. “How could I have ever known? Back then, I had no intention of marrying again or having any more children. After losing my wife and sons, I couldn’t face that kind of loss. Not again. I was so desperate to save my home and people, I would have promised everything, even my own life.” He reached out to touch her face, tears falling unimpeded. “How could I have known how much I would love you? How could I have known you’d have given me these three beautiful gifts? I couldn’t. I thought I had already lost everything. I could never have imagined how much more I’d stand to lose.”
She clutched his hand to her cheek, her face falling.
“What can we do?” She sobbed.
“I don’t know,” Rodai said, resting his forehead on hers. “He is a powerful man. I don’t know if there’s anything we can do.”
“But this nation is rich again,” She said, grasping desperately for some solution. “We can give him gold, resources, anything he wants. There must be something else he would be willing to take instead.”
“There isn’t,” A voice said in the shadow of their room. Rodai shot to his feet, clutching his child to him and flinging out a hand to shield Aralie.
The Demon King stepped into the light, looking the same as he did six years ago, down to the garments he wore.
“We have a deal,” Zinzo said, with a hint of menace in his voice. “I do not suffer broken oaths, King of Suida. Not at all.”
“Is there nothing else we could offer?” Aralie cried. “There must be something else.”
“There isn’t,” He repeated. “However, I am not a cruel man. My sons are not yet grown, and your children are still babes yet. There’s no reason to take them with me now. I will wait until the time is right. You will have them until then.”
He stepped toward Rodai, who held Gale to him tightly. Aralie gripped Rodai’s shirt.
“A deal is a deal, Rodai,” Zinzo said, his strange eyes narrowing. “You will honor it, or you will find exactly how much you can lose.”
“Don’t threaten me,” Rodai said with far more confidence than he felt.
Zinzo smiled. “It’s not a threat,” he said. “It’s simply a fact. I would think your losses would make you more mindful of that.”
Rodai’s face contorted in fury. “Leave.”
Zinzo stepped back into the shadows. “I will return,” He said as he disappeared into the darkness. “Be ready.”
When they could no longer feel his presence, Aralie dissolved into weeping. Rodai could do nothing but hold her and weep himself.
“What do we do?” Aralie asked quietly. “Should we tell them?”
“I supposed we’ll have to, at some point.”
“When will that be?”
Rodai sighed. “When the time is right.”
She shook her head at him, exasperated. “And when will that be?”
Rodai looked at her, his heart heavy with guilt and grief. “I’m so sorry, my love. More sorry than I can ever say. I hope one day you can forgive me, but if not, I understand.”
She grabbed him and held him, burying her face in his neck. “I’m very angry with you.”
He used his free arm to press her closer to him, holding Gale so she wouldn't be crushed between them. “I know,” He said into her hair.
There was a knock at the door. It was seventeen year old Coll, leading his little sisters, five and three, in to meet the new member of the family. The girls hopped happily on the bed and cooed over the little one. Coll bear-hugged his father and put a comforting hand on his step-mother’s shoulder, smiling widely and congratulating them.
Rodai and Aralie shared a look, wiping their tears, and silently agreeing to keep their shame a secret for now and let this family moment play out. They didn’t know how many they would have left.
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My Masterlist
The Exophilia Creator’s Masterlist
It's time for some serious shine!!! _______________________ . . . #shiny #clothes #glam #glamoutfits #occasiondress #exclusivecollection #style #femiwarefashion #aralie https://www.instagram.com/p/Bvgo46Tnk9I/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=ffoc96e4o6w7
The Bargain: Viribus
Rating: Teen Relationships: Female Human x Male Demon/Elf Additional Tags: Arranged Marriage, Marriage, Demons, Elves, Princes, Princesses, Monster Boyfriend, Monster Husband, Teratophilia Words: 7297
After Tyria kisses Pallidus, Fawn suddenly appears before them. It's time for her to meet her betrothed, the massive but gentle Viribus. Based on "The Princes" series of shorts written by tumblr user @your-monster-romance, with her permission.
Read the Original Shorts Here: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4 The Previous Chapters: Prologue, Pallidus The Following Chapter: Genus, Gale (NSFW), Fawn (NSFW), Tyria (NSFW), Epilogue
Twenty-year-old Fawn sat with her father, mother, and younger sister at the garden table, sulking. How could her father have not told her there were men asking for her hand in marriage? She had read so many stories about great romances and royal weddings and was rather annoyed that she could be missing out on her own. But after her father’s explosive display, she kept her thoughts to herself.
“To be honest, I’m glad you’re rejecting letters,” Gale said haughtily, pulling a book from the pocket of her apron and opening it. “I don’t want to get married. If I did, I’d have to go live with my husband. I much rather stay here.”
Fawn thought that would make her parents happy, but if anything, they looked even more dismayed.
Fawn could feel things getting tense again, even if Gale was oblivious. She stood up, draining her teacup and putting a roll in her pocket.
“I’m going to the menagerie,” She said, taking a few biscuits and a apple tart, too. “I want to take a look at Daisy’s leg. She was favoring it yesterday.” She kissed her mother’s cheek and patted her father’s shoulder as she passed them.
Daisy was a goat she had rescued after she had gotten mauled by a wolf and then was left for dead when hunters chased the wolf off. Fawn had found her a few weeks ago limping on the edge of the castle grounds, eating flowers from their field. Fawn had been nursing her back to health over the past several weeks and Daisy had been getting better, but yesterday she began limping on her bad leg again and Fawn wondered if the leg hadn’t healed right.
The menagerie was located just on the other side of the garden, situated between it and the greenhouse, where they grew most of their own herbs and spices. The menagerie was built in much the same way as the greenhouse, except it had mesh wire instead of glass encasing it.
Inside, the smell of animals was strong, but it wasn’t one she minded. She rolled up her sleeves and put on her leather work apron and got started mucking out the bird cages. Her parents insisted she let the staff do these sorts of unpleasant chores, but Fawn had never been afraid of getting dirty. Once the cages were clean, she refilled their water and seed bowls, moving on to the squirrels and chipmunks, breaking the roll into little pieces for them.
Most of the animals in the menagerie were rescues, and it always made Fawn sad to let them go, but she knew they belonged back out in the forest. There were only a few animals who would be permanent residents, like the blinded owl and the stoat that was missing it’s front paw.
Once the feeding and watering and mucking out was done, she finally turned her attention to Daisy. Removing her apron and washing her hands, she opened the stall to the makeshift infirmary and checked Daisy’s leg.
“Seems like it’s better today,” Fawn said, pleased. Daisy was sniffing Fawn’s pockets, looking for treats, walking perfectly well on her injured leg. “That’s good. Soon you’ll be able to go back home. Although, if you’d like to stay here with me, I wouldn’t mind that either.” She took a biscuit from her pocket and fed it to Daisy, who happily munched away.
She took Daisy out of the menagerie so that she could graze in the field beyond, taking the opportunity to change the straw bedding of her stall. Taking a pitchfork, Fawn shifted the straw and moved it into the center of the stall, so it would be easier to haul, and as she did so, something buried in the middle of it caught her eye. It was large and black.
Thinking maybe a skunk had had her kits in here, Fawn set the pitchfork aside and she sifted through the straw until she could see the object clearly. It was a rose, a solid black rose, from the petals to the stem. Fawn couldn’t remember if this variety had ever grown in Tyria’s rose garden. Did roses even come in black? Pondering, she reached down and picked it up, accidentally pricking her finger on a thorn she couldn’t see because it blended in so well.
There was a snap and a bright flash of light, which Fawn shielded her eyes against. She felt as though she were whirling through the air, and clutched herself until the spinning stopped.
“Fawn!”
Fawn opened her eyes to find herself in a dark place, lit from above by glowing chandeliers. In front of her was her sister, Tyria, running toward her with her arms outstretched. Behind her was… a man? If it was, it was the strangest man she’d ever seen. As Tyria ran toward her, the stranger abruptly dashed away.
“Oh, gods, Fawn, it’s so good to see you!” Tyria said as she flung herself onto her little sister and held her tight. “I’ve missed you so much!”
“Wait, what? Missed me?” Fawn said, pulling Tyria off of her and holding her at arms length. “What are you talking about? I just saw you ten minutes ago. You went to get a rose for your corsage.”
Tyria’s brows knitted together in disbelief. “Fawn, I’ve been here for months.”
“What?” Fawn stared at her sister, dumbstruck, looking around her at the weird, color-washed copy of the rose garden back home. “Where is here?”
“Cavernae.”
“The demon kingdom?” Fawn laughed at her sister skeptically. “Tyria, I’m the one who’s supposed to believe in tall tales, not you.”
“Does this look like a fairy story to you?” Tyria replied, gesturing around at the dark walls and pale blue lights that flickered and danced on the stone of the ceiling.
“All right, you have a point,” Fawn said reluctantly. “So what are we doing here?”
“Oh, Fawn,” Tyria said in a distressed tone. “There’s something I need to tell you. And you may not like it very much. Here, sit down here with me.”
“All right,” Fawn replied slowly, sitting on a bench nearby.
Tyria took a very large breath, sat down beside her, and said, “Do you remember how Father was receiving letters of intent for you and I, but was rejecting them all?”
“Yes?”
“There’s a reason for that.”
“Which is?”
“We’re already betrothed. All of us. Even Gale.”
Fawn’s mouth dropped in horror. “What?”
“Father promised us to the Demon King’s sons during the Great War in an effort to save Coll and his kingdom. We were engaged to be wed before our parents even met each other.”
“But, how could the Demon King have known we’d even exist?”
“I don’t know,” Tyria said. “The Demon King has amazing foresight, I guess.”
“So, the… man I saw you with, he’s your…?”
“His name is Pallidus. He’s the eldest of Zinzo’s sons. And yes, he’s my intended.”
“Do you… like him?” She seemed pretty cozy with him when Fawn arrived.
“Yes, I do. I’m not sure I like him enough to marry him yet, though, but he is wonderful company. Trust me, I had just as many misgivings as you when I first got here. It took a long time for me to warm up to him. I wouldn’t even speak to him for weeks.”
“So,” Fawn said slowly. “Who am I…”
“Viribus.” Tyria rested a hand on Fawn’s shoulder and regarded her in that annoying older sister I-know-what’s-best kind of way. “You mustn’t judge him too harshly when you see him. He may look rather intimidating, but I promise you he’s a very sweet man, if a little insecure. Try not to say anything rude; he’s sensitive.”
“Viribus,” Fawn repeated. “When will I meet him?”
Tyria looked past her, and jerked her chin up to indicate that Fawn should turn around.
“Don’t be afraid,” Tyria whispered in her ear.
Fawn rose from the bench and turned. She saw the tall, slender man she’d seen before, Pallidus, the one who had been sitting with Tyria when she opened her eyes for the first time in this realm. Next to him was a man even stranger than the first.
He was just as tall as his brother, but where Pallidus was thin in an eldritch sort of way, this other man was nothing short of massive. He had muscle on muscle, barely contained in the fabric of his tunic, and it looked as substantial as a boulder. Fawn had always been short, but compared to this man, she was nothing more than a china doll, tiny and breakable, the top of her head not even reaching the middle of his chest.
His hair was black, like his brother, but rather than long and straight, it was cut short and curled slightly. His big horns twisted around his head, like a ram, and his short, pointed ears stuck out of the space between. His eyes were solid black, and his skin was the color of slate, grey with a tinge of dark blue. His clothes were far plainer than Pallidus’s, but no less rich or well made, and he held a bouquet of the same black roses like the one Fawn still had clutched in her hand. If he could feel the thorns, he gave no sign.
“For you,” He said, his voice as deep as a chasm in the earth. “I’m so pleased to finally meet you, Fawn.”
All at once, Fawn’s head began to spin again. She swayed, putting a hand to her forehead.
“Forgive me,” She said vaguely. “I think I need to…”
Before she could finish her sentence, she fell forward. Viribus dropped the roses and rushed to catch her before she hit the ground. His face was panicked.
“I didn’t mean to scare her,” He said, visibly upset.
“It’s all right, Viri,” Tyria said, patting his back. “She’s just overwhelmed. Trust me, I know exactly how she feels. Let’s just get her to her chambers for now, all right?”
“They’re ready for her,” Pallidus said. “Do you need me to come?”
Tyria turned to kiss Pallidus’s cheek. “No, I think it would be better if we gave her some room to breathe. I’ll come by the library later, all right? Wait for me.”
Pallidus nodded, and Tyria followed Viribus to the apartments that had been set up for Fawn, which were right next to her own.
Opening the door, she instructed Viribus to lay her on the bed and help her pull Fawn’s shoes off. Once done, Viribus began to back out of the room.
“I should go,” He said nervously. “She won’t want to see me when she wakes.”
“No, Viri, stay. I’ll stay with you. She should wake up soon, and I’ll help you talk to her. She just arrived; don’t give up just yet.”
Viribus frowned with worry, looking down at Fawn’s sleeping form. “I knew she was a slight little thing, but I didn’t realize how tiny she actually was. I can’t be the one intended for her, I’ll break her.”
“No, you won’t,” Tyria said comfortingly. “You would never hurt her, I know you wouldn’t. You’re a gentle soul, Viri.”
Viribus continued to frown, but he opened the drawer of Fawn’s bedside table and pulled out two books. One was a copy of Beauty and the Beast, one of Fawn’s favorite stories, and the second was a blank book for her to write in.
“When did you put those in here?” Tyria asked.
“The day you came,” Viribus replied. “I had hoped she would join you soon, so I put some things in her room I thought she’d like.”
“That was sweet of you,” Tyria said, patting his arm.
“I just hope she thinks so, too.” He set the books down on the bed next to her hand, and only then did he notice the drop of blood on the bedclothes.
“She pricked her finger,” He said, very, very carefully lifting her hand to examine it, as though she were made of porcelain. “It must have been from the rose. I didn’t even do that right.”
Tyria smacked him lightly on the arm with the back of her hand. It was like hitting solid stone.
“Stop beating yourself up. There’s nothing wrong with you or the way you do things. You’re too hard on yourself.”
Fawn began to stir, and Viribus backed away again.
“Stop right there,” Tyria said, pointing at his feet commandingly. He froze. She went to fetch a chair from Fawn’s new vanity for him to sit on. “Sit.”
He did so, but seemed to be doing his best to make himself appear smaller. It didn’t work. She handed him the books he had laid on the bed.
“It would be better if she got them from you,” Tyria said. Viribus’s face was doubtful, but he took them anyway.
Fawn sat up slowly in the bed, looking around her new quarters, which had been painted sky blue, Fawn’s favorite color. The ceiling had been decorated with paintings of clouds, corpuscular rays, and tiny flocks of birds. Tyria had situated herself on the edge of the bed.
“Ty,” Fawn said weakly. “Is this…?”
“Still Cavernae, yes,” Tyria replied.
“Where are we now?”
“Your quarters. They’re right next to mine. There’s a door over there,” She pointed. “That leads into my rooms, should you need me.”
Viribus cleared his throat cautiously, and Fawn’s head snapped around to look at him.
“I’m sorry I frightened you,” He said in quiet voice. “I didn’t mean to. I’m just that way, I guess.”
Fawn looked at him, his eyes downcast, his posture hunched. He reminded her of a beaten dog and she couldn’t help but feel a little sorry for him, as alarming as he was.
“It… it’s all right,” She said shakily. “I was just a little surprised, that’s all.”
He nodded. He held out the books for her to take, but refused to stand up or move any closer, lest she become frightened again.
“What are those?” She asked, putting her bare feet on the floor and standing.
“Gifts,” He replied. “I know you like to write your thoughts down in a journal, and while I couldn’t retrieve the one from your home, I thought you might still like to do so. This blue one is blank. The other is a story I know you enjoy.”
She took the books from his hands. His movements were slow and deliberate, as though she was the creature for which she was named and might scurry off if he moved too fast.
“Beauty and the Beast?” She said, surprised.
“Yes,” He replied, still looking down at his feet, his hands fidgeting in his lap. “A story about a beautiful woman who falls in love with a hideous creature. The beast is then transformed back into a handsome prince through the power of her love.” He shrugged one of his shoulders and grimaced. “I’m sorry I can’t do that. I’ll be like this forever, regardless of who does or doesn’t love me.”
She felt a peculiar aching in her heart that compelled her to extend a shaky hand, taking his chin and lifting his face so she could see his eyes. She was startled in a completely different way when he looked at her full on; he gazed at her as though she were sunlight, or starlight, or some equally radiant thing. Like he was looking at the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. It was rather intense. Her heart skipped a beat.
“There’s nothing wrong with that,” She said softly, pulling her hand away. “There’s nothing wrong with being a little different. People can’t help how they’re born.” She managed a tremulous smile. “I’m sorry if I was rude. I didn’t mean to cause such a fuss.”
“No, it’s my fault,” He said. “I shouldn’t have just sprung myself on you like that. I should have been more careful. I’m just glad I was able to catch you before you hit your head on the bench.”
“You caught me?” Fawn said, a genuine smile on her face. “Thank you.”
Viribus seemed transfixed by her smile and didn’t appear to be capable of answering. Tyria hid her own smile behind her hand. She couldn’t help but be amused by this mountain of a man rendered speechless by her wild, flighty little sister.
“How did you know this story was my favorite?” Fawn asked.
“I’ve seen you read it hundred of times,” Viribus said.
“Seen me?”
“Yes,” He replied, pulling a mirror identical to Pallidus’s out of his trouser pocket. “Mother enchanted these and gave them to my brothers and I. It has helped me learn about you.”
“Oh, like in Cinderella.”
“Yes. I’ve watched you cycle through hundreds of books, but you always return to this one sooner or later. I can’t read it myself, but I’ve heard you read it out loud enough times that I know it by heart.”
Her smiled faded and she looked at him in concern. “You can’t read?”
“No,” Viribus said sadly. “And the tragedy of it is that I love stories very much. But when I try to read, the letters jump and dance on the page and I can’t concentrate on it. Father is the same, though not as bad as me. I used to beg Mother to read to me constantly, but I stopped when I became grown.” He saw the sympathetic look on her face and added: “I’m not stupid. I understand a great many things, I just can’t read about them.”
“I could read to you, if you like,” Fawn said brightly. “I read for my animals all the time. I like having an audience.”
“You would do that?” Viribus asked.
“Of course,” Fawn said. “I couldn’t imagine not being able to read. That would be my worst nightmare.”
“If that’s the case,” Tyria said, standing. “You should see the library. It’s amazing. You could pick out a few books while your there and get started.”
“Oh, yes, let’s do that,” Viribus said enthusiastically, standing to his full, impressive height.
Fawn took a step back without thinking.
“Oh,” Viribus backed up as well, ducking his head. “I’m sorry.”
Fawn glanced at Tyria, who gave her a pointed look. Taking a deep breath, Fawn resolutely stepped forward and took Viribus’s hand.
“Will you show me the library?” She asked him.
“Yes,” He replied, smiling hesitantly. “Yes, I would love to.”
Pallidus was there, leaning against a desk with a small book in his hand, waiting for Tyria like she requested. He closed the book and set it on the desk, standing up straight as they entered, smiling widely at the sight of Fawn and Viribus together. Pallidus extended his elbow for Tyria, which she took.
“I really didn’t get the chance to introduce you two properly earlier,” Tyria said. “Fawn, this is Prince Pallidus, Heir of Cavernae. Pallidus, this is Princess Fawn of Suida, my middle sister.”
Pallidus bowed low, the delicate chains around his horns making a pleasant ringing sound as he moved. “It is an honor to finally meet you, my Lady,” He said.
Fawn curtsied. “A pleasure, my Lord.”
“She hasn’t met Genus yet. Is he here?” Tyria asked.
“Oh, I’m sure he’s in one of these rooms, he always is. I could find him, if you wish.”
“No, no, she’ll likely meet him soon enough, anyhow. Dinner will be in a little while.”
“Speaking of which,” Pallidus said. “Why don’t we go speak to Mother about the menu? Fawn is vegetarian, didn’t you say?”
“Yes, she is,” Tyria said, winking at him cheekily. “We’ll see you at dinner, all right?”
Fawn nodded, a little apprehensive. “All right.”
Pallidus and Tyria excused themselves and left, still arm in arm.
Viribus gulped nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. “So… would you like a tour of the library?”
Fawn swallowed her terror at being left alone with this grey giant and said, “Yes, please.”
He took her through each of the many rooms that made up the library, smiling a little at her excitement as she forgot her nervousness and looked over each title, every tiny leaflet, every oversize tome. He walked with her, but was always mindful to leave several paces between them, so she didn’t feel like he was looming over her.
She’d spend a lot of time examining each row for books she recognized, and even pulled a few off the shelf that she had never heard of before, asking him about them. He only knew the story of one, so she put that one back and kept the two he didn’t know to be read later.
In the very center of the seventeenth room, she found a huge model castle, carefully hand painted and glittering, sitting on a pedestal.
“Oh!” She breathed, rushing over to it as soon as she saw it. “Look at this! This is an exact replica of the castle in my Cinderella storybook. Where did you get this?”
“That?” He said. “I made that.”
She turned to look at him, her mouth hanging open in shock. “You made this?”
“Yes,” He came to stand on the other side, so that the table was between them, and pressed a tiny button on the side. There was a minuscule chiming sound.
She laughed with delight. “The little bell tower even works! Oh, Viribus, this is lovely.”
“You like it?” He asked, pleased.
“Yes, very much,” Fawn said.
“Then it’s yours,” He replied.
“What, no! It belongs in the library. It’s perfect here. It makes the room so lively.”
“Hmm,” He mused. “Then I’ll make you another one for your room. What would you like? The one from Snow White? Or I could make the dragon’s hoard from that really long story about a ring.”
She thought about it, examining the intricate detail on the towers and the parapets and the apiary. It reminded her of her own castle.
“Could you make my home castle? The one I live in?” Her face fell a little. “Well, lived in,” she clarified.
He watched her face sadly. “Yes, I can. I’ve seen it from many angles, so I’m certain I can replicate it. Although, there may be one or two things on which I could use your input.”
“I’d love to help,” She said.
“Well,” He said a little uncertainly. “Follow me, then. I’ll show you my workroom.”
“Should I bring the books?” She asked, holding them up.
“Oh, yes,” He said. “Would you mind reading to me while I work? It’s awfully quiet in that end of the palace.”
“Sure,” She said, following him back out into the hallway, but just as they stared down the long corridor, a bell tolled somewhere.
“Looks like it’ll have to wait,” Viribus said, a little disappointed. “It’s time for dinner.”
The next day, he led her to a secluded corner of the hallway at the very back, away from most of the rooms. She was a little nervous, being this far out with him alone, but she was determined to make the best of the situation. She didn’t want to insult him more than she already had.
“I’m sorry it’s such a long walk,” He said, holding the books from the library under his arm. “I can make quite the ruckus sometimes when I’m building things. Father had my workroom put out here so that I wouldn’t disturb anyone.”
“Do you spend much time here?”
“Almost everyday,” He said. “Pallidus and Genus are usually in the library, when they aren’t entertaining your sister, that is, which is another reason it’s so far away. It’s hard for them to read over my banging and sawing.”
“Don’t you spend any time in the library?”
“Not really. There’s no point since I can’t read. The only time I’m in there is when I’m placing a new model or they need help moving shelves. Otherwise, I’m in here.”
“By yourself?”
“Mostly.”
“That sounds… lonely,” Fawn said.
He merely shrugged, and opened the door. As she entered, she let out a wondering gasp.
In the middle of the room, surrounded by walls of tools, equipment, materials, and paint, was a huge table that contained a display of a tiny but vast forest. There were hills and trees and minuscule woodland creatures. In the very center was a clearing by a lake, where stood a single fawn the size of her thumbnail. It almost looked as if this tiny creature was the centerpiece and everything else had been built around it. The way it was all painted and placed made it look real, as if at any second, the breeze would shift the branches and make the leaves dance. She almost expected the fawn’s ear to twitch.
“Viribus,” She breathed. “This… this is incredible. Did you really make all of this?”
“Yes,” He said, watching her face. He did that a lot. “This one has taken me months. It’s not quite finished yet, but it’s getting there.”
“You’re amazing!” She said, giving him the biggest smile he had seen yet. “You’re a real artist.”
He scratched the back of his head. “I wouldn’t say that.”
“I would, and I just did,” She said emphatically. “I couldn’t do this. And it’s such delicate work. Look how tiny these are!” She reached out to pick up the little deer, but stopped herself. “Oh, I’m sorry. May I?”
“Yes, of course, please,” He said, sitting on a stool near the table. He watched her pick up the small deer and examine it carefully, a soft smile lighting up her features. She walked up to him with it, stopping in front of him so that they were very close, and held it up to him.
“How did you paint something this small?”
He gulped at the proximity, but managed to say, “Uh… I can show you, if you’d like.”
She nodded vigorously, and he stood up, walking to the far end of the room, where there was another table covered in little carved figures, ready to be painted. He picked out another animal; from the shape, she guessed it was a mountain cat of some kind. He opened a tray that had many small reservoirs, all filled with paint. Using a spare section of the table, he used a paint trowel and mixed an orange and a gold paint together to make the perfect color for a cougar’s fur. He took up a small, finely bristled paintbrush, dipped it in the mixture, and drew short, deliberate strokes along the cat’s side, his hands completely steady.
Watching him work was mesmerizing, and Fawn couldn’t help but move closer and closer, until he could feel her breath on his neck. It made the short hairs on his body stand on end, but he forced his hands to remain stable and continued on.
It wasn’t until she knitted her hands together, placing them on his shoulder and rested her chin on top of them that he stopped altogether, turning to look at her with wide, almost terrified eyes.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” She said as she pulled away, although she didn’t remove her hands from his shoulder. “Was I throwing you off? I can back up, if I’m bothering you.”
“No!” He said quickly. “No, you’re… you’re not bothering me at all.”
She smiled, resting her head back on her hands, waiting for him to continue. This close, he could smell the perfume of her hair, like clover and wildflowers. He took a deep breath and turned back to his work, but now his hands were shaking and he couldn’t get them to stop.
Before it could get awkward, though, a yipping sound caught her attention.
“What’s that?” She asked, following the sound.
“Oh, I…” He began, but stopped when she gasped.
She bent down under one of the tables, and when she stood up, she was holding a small brown dog, likely a forest mutt.
“Where did he come from?” She cooed, cuddling him to her cheek.
“The outside,” Viribus said. “I’m the only one that Father allows outside, so I can collect materials for my work. He doesn’t like me doing it, but it’s the only way I can get the things I need. I can only go out twice a month, at night, for thirty minutes. No more than that.” He reached to touch the dog’s ears. “I found him a few months ago, and I think another animal attacked him.”
The small dog became frantic to get to Viribus, so Fawn handed him over. Viribus cradled him like an infant.
“I named him Peach. Father doesn’t want us to bring live things from the outside down here, but I couldn’t leave him out there like that. He’d have died.” Viribus looked up anxiously. “You won’t tell Father about him, will you?”
“Of course not,” Fawn said consolingly, scratching the dog’s ears. It happily licked at her hands. “Oh, Peach. Viri’s just a big, soft teddy bear, isn’t he? Yes, he is.” Fawn giggled and looked up at Viribus with a wide grin, laying her free hand on his arm.
The contact made his spine shiver. Again, he seemed at a loss for words. He often felt that way around her.
“Why doesn’t your Father want you or your brother’s to go outside?” Fawn asked curiously.
“It’s not safe,” Viribus said, going to sit back at the table.
“Why not?”
“Well, several reasons. There are more humans now than there have ever been, and they are multiplying rapidly, encroaching on the old territories. There are far fewer of us than them, and since the old treaties between our kinds died out, many humans have forgotten the old codes and regard us with fear or hatred. Demons have often been attacked when they try mingle with humans. Elves have retreated far into their homes and have stopped venturing out for fear of the same.” Peach had one of Viribus’s large fingers in his mouth, snarling playfully, and Viribus smiled down at him. “Not to mention the sun.”
“What about the sun?”
“For a lot of demons, sunlight is harmful,” He replied.
“Will it kill you, like vampires?” She asked.
“No, not unless we spent hours and hours in the sun, but that’s bad even for humans. No, it’s more like an allergy. It makes out skin burn and welt. It’s not lethal, but it’s not pleasant, either.”
“Are elves the same way?”
“No. Actually, most elves enjoy the sunlight.”
“Well, you’re half elf, aren’t you? You might be immune to sunlight.”
He tilted her head at her, considering. “Now, there’s an idea.”
“Have you ever tried going out during the day?”
“Oh, no, never,” He replied, shaking his head. “Father would be most displeased. He worries for our safety, above all things.”
Fawn was reminded of her own father, and she sighed unhappily. She turned her attention back to Peach to distract herself.
“Well, now,” She said, pulling the dog from his grasp and setting him on her shoulder. “Why don’t we read for a bit while you’re papa does his work, hmm?” She smiled up at Viribus. “Would you like that?”
“Yes,” he said quietly. “I would like that very much.”
She took a stool from a different work station and sat it next to him at table, laying on of the books in front of her and opening the cover. Viribus had laid the cougar aside and picked up a flat, thin length of wood and a small carving knife, meticulously cutting out the shape of what would be the Suida capitol’s great castle, Fawn’s home.
“’Many years ago, so long that time itself has forgotten the name of the country, there lived a great king with no heirs…’”
When Fawn was with Viribus, days passed like seconds. She loved to watch him work in his workshop, and he adored the sound of her voice when she read. He was happiest when she shared her own stories with him, ones she had written herself. It was like a little piece of her only he was allowed to see. The first time she sat in his lap to read, he very nearly cried.
It took some convincing, but she finally got him to join her in the library for a reading. She invited Tyria and Viribus’s brothers, too, and though Viribus thought his brothers would laugh at such a thing, they always turned up and listened to her readings. Once or twice, his mother and father came to listen, as well. It became a weekly thing, and it made Viribus very, very happy.
As if to repay her, he went out of his way to accommodate her. Anything she wanted, he would get her, no questions asked. He would do almost anything to please her; if she were to request that he burn down his entire workshop, he would do it with a smile on his face as long as it made her happy. Not that she ever would. It was her favorite place to read.
Most of the time, she read out loud to him, but there were times when he needed to concentrate hard on his work, so she would stay and read in silence. He just really enjoyed having her nearby, even if they weren’t interacting.
She’d often throw on an apron and help him keep the place tidy, even though he told her each time that she didn’t have to do it. All it took was a kiss on the cheek and a smile, and he let her do whatever she wanted.
When he went out on his bi-monthly hikes to the outside, she waited at the portal, anxious for him to come back. Once, he’d come home with an arrow in his shoulder, and she was beside herself with worry. He said there had been hunters near the portal when he came out, and he had tried to lead them away, but was shot in the process. He made her swear never to tell his Father, lest he revoke his ability to go out. She promised, helping him remove the arrow and dress the wound, burning the bloody tunic afterward.
Seeing him with his shirt off did strange things to her body. She always knew he was muscular, but feeling the solid muscle shift under his skin with her own hands was something new entirely. It made the blood rush to her cheeks and pooled warmth at her midsection. There was a powerful ache rising up in her that made her heart beat hard in her chest and her thighs clamp shut. It made her imagine things she had never thought of before, like what his hands, or his lips, would feel like on her bare skin. It took a strong force of will to stop her fingers from lingering on the flesh of his back, tracing his spine downward, and seeing where it led.
She was quite old enough to understand what these feelings were, even if she had never felt them before. It was still a startling revelation. She desired Viribus. She wanted him in a painful, aching, physical way.
But desire and love were two different things entirely. Did she love him? She certainly knew she cared about him a great deal, but was that love? How would she know? How did he feel about her?
She wouldn’t have to wait long for the answer to that last question. A few days after the arrow incident, she went to his workroom to meet him, carrying bandages concealed in a bag so that she could change the dressings on the wound, when she heard his deep, bass voice through the door.
He appeared to be playing with Peach, wrestling and roughhousing. As much as Viribus thought of himself as a clumsy, hulking monster, he had never once hurt Peach, even accidentally. Or her, for that matter.
She suddenly heard a scratching at the door. Peach must be able to smell her. Just as she put her hand on the knob to open the door, she heard Viribus say: “Waiting for Fawn, eh? She’s coming soon, buddy, don’t you worry. You love her, don’t you, boy? Do you love Fawn, Peach? Huh? Do you love her?”
He must have picked the dog up, because the scratching stopped. She heard Viribus sigh softly on the other side.
“Yeah. Me too.”
For a moment, the only thing she could hear was Peach’s excited panting and yips. Then she heard Viribus say, in a more cheerful voice, “Let’s get this place cleaned up, eh, Peach? Make sure she doesn’t work her pretty little hands to the bone this time.”
Fawn laid a hand on the smooth wood of the door, listening to him knock around inside the work room, putting things away and talking to Peach animatedly.
Something had taken hold of her heart, something as strong as iron and as soft as rose petals. She had never felt it before, but knew what it was in an instant.
Of course. Of course she loved him. He was her Beast, how could she not? She pressed her forehead against the cool door, bathing in the new emotion, letting it swallow her up. Knowing that he loved her made the desire for him stronger and more urgent, like a fire fueled with spirits. Her breathing was a little uneven and her body tensed in ways it never had. It took several minutes before she was able to settle herself down and enter the room.
As she came in, he smiled at her affectionately, and the fire was kindled anew. Watching him strip off his shirt and submit to her ministrations with trust in his eyes did absolutely nothing to quench it.
She had been in the underground kingdom for three months, and in all that time, he had never once brought up the engagement. He gave her as much space as she needed and didn’t press her or ask her about the betrothal, perhaps afraid of what her answer might be.
One afternoon, while taking tea with her on the balcony of her apartments, she surprised him.
“I wrote a new story. Would you like to hear it?”
“Always,” He said with a wide smile, sitting down on the balcony bench with her.
“I haven’t figured out a name for it yet,” She said, opening her journal. “It just sort of spilled out of me yesterday evening, so forgive it if it’s a little rough.”
“I’m sure it’s wonderful, just like all your tales.”
She smiled up at him. “Very well then,” She replied, clearing her throat.
“’Once upon a time, there was a young woman who lived with her family in the sunlight. She was of royal birth, but she was a wild thing, hard to dislike but even harder to tame.”
“Reminds me of someone, but I can’t think of who,” Viribus said playfully, and Fawn shushed him in a good natured sort of way.
“'One day, while playing with her animal friends, she stepped through a hole and fell into a dark, impossible place far underground. There, she met a strange man, who insisted they were to be wed. Shocked, the poor girl collapsed.'”
Viribus’s smile faded. He knew this story.
“'When she awoke, she saw him waiting there. He was huge and monstrous and hulking. But when she reached out to him, he shrunk from her, as though afraid. He was timid and unsure of himself, a stark contrast to his fearsome exterior.’”
Viribus shifted in his seat anxiously. She seemed to notice, but continued.
“’It took time, but the two tried to understand one another. They found they shared the same love: a love of tales. This is just like Beauty and the Beast, she thought. So she made him a deal. She would read him a story each night, and he would put off the wedding for another day. He agreed. So, as time passed, the wedding was suspended and many stories were told.’
“’One evening, he came to her chamber and sat down to receive his story, when she realized that his eyes, which she once found terrifying, looked at her with splendor, as if she were the only thing in the world worthy of being looked upon. The next night, she realized that the body she once believed to be huge and intimidating, was in fact strong and protective, and would gladly take sword and arrow if it meant keeping her from harm. The next night, she looked at his hands, and instead of the violent bludgeons she had suspected they could be, she saw them for the careful, creative things they were, able to calm wounded creatures and make beautiful, delicate things to be marveled at and wondered over.’
’And she realized then, he was beautiful. Beauty and the Beast was indeed a fairy tale, because in this young maiden’s story, her beastly prince was beautiful just as he was, and she would never want him to change. All at once, she knew then that she loved him.” Her voice softened to a near whisper. “She loved every strange, wondrous thing about him.’”
Viribus’s heart stopped, and then beat way too fast. She couldn’t mean…
“’How would she tell him, then? How could she put it into words and make him understand that what she said was the truth? He doubted himself and saw himself as a monster, so how to make him see, that to her, he was a good man, the only man worthy of her love? In what way could she tell him that being held by him was like being wrapped in her favorite blanket, safe from any danger? How could she show him that the sight of him filled her with desire, a thirst for him she couldn’t slake. How could she say and make him believe that he was the only man she would ever want? How?’
“’And then she knew. It was simple. The answer had been there all along,’” Fawn said, looking up at Viribus and slowly closing the book in her lap. “’She would just tell him a story.’”
He reached out with his hand and touched her cheek. She closed her eyes and leaned into his touch, putting her own hand over his sighing in contentment. He bent to rest his forehead on hers.
“That was beautiful,” He said quietly.
“It’s a true story, you know,” She whispered. “And it’s not over yet.”
“No?” He said, looking into her eyes. “Then how does it end?”
She tilted her chin up and gently pressed her lips to his. “She keeps telling him stories, not to hold off his advances, but merely to make him happy. In fact, there’s only one night when no story is told.” Her cheeks flush. “Their wedding night.”
His heart danced in his chest and his eyes widen in shock. “You’ll marry me?”
She nodded, her sweet smile full of affection. “Yes, I will.”
He breathed a sigh of relief and shut his eyes, tears falling freely down his cheeks. He rested his head on her shoulder, weeping unashamed, and she wrapped her arms around his neck, humming a soft lullaby into his ear.
“The story is only going to get better,” She said as she pulled him back a little, wiping his tears away with her fingers. “I promise.”
“I believe you,” He said gently, and he bent to kiss her again.
A kiss that was interrupted by a familiar voice screaming obscenities from the hallway outside of Fawn’s balcony.
“Oh,” Fawn said pleasantly. “Looks like Gale has made it at last.”
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warna.
Aku tidak terlalu mengingat apa yang membuatku menepi.
Satu yang aku ingat, di tengah musim semi yang tenang, aku melihatnya di sudut taman di pojokan kota. Taman itu cukup ramai. Namun tidak banyak yang lalu lalang di sudutnya. Sedikit tersembunyi, di sisi belakang menara suar. Di sana, bunga ini tumbuh dalam tenang. Seolah tidak membutuhkan perhatian. Tanah di sekitarnya pun sedikit kering, mungkin sang penjaga taman melewatkan titik ini saat patroli dengan wadah airnya.
Di tempat itu, ia berdamai dengan waktu. Ketika khalayak mengelu-elukan berbagai bunga yang tampil di bawah lampu sorot, bunga kecil itu teguh meyakini bahwa waktu bukan sesuatu untuk dimenangkan. Saat mentari terlihat tidak adil, ia hanya terus tumbuh. Tanpa tangan yang sengaja menyiram lebih banyak, tanpa humus dengan ajian untuk membuatnya lebih berwarna. Kondisi yang membuat akarnya berkelana lebih jauh, menuju tempat yang mungkin terlalu repot bagi bunga lain untuk menjangkaunya. Tidak terhitung waktu yang berlalu ketika aku memandanginya. Sampai terasa kalau, sesuatu dalam diam mulai menarikku.
Melihatnya, aku memutuskan untuk duduk lebih dekat.
Bukan karena kasihan, apalagi sok hipster. Murni karena debaran yang berbeda. Sebuah rasa yang beresonansi, membawa tenang lalu memperlambat langkah, seolah abai dan memilih untuk ikut arus. Meski di tempat yang tak terlihat, ada upaya yang teramat keras, seperti akar yang menjalar panjang mencari sumber air. Meski di sini bukan Rhodes, ia tetap melompat tanpa sorot perhatian. Menyiarkan keberanian tanpa riuh tepuk tangan.
Hal lain yang menarik adalah, ia tidak mengenal diri yang kekal. Hari ini ia satu hal, besok ronanya akan berubah, begitu pula besoknya lagi. Namun, semuanya nyata. Tidak ada seorangpun yang mampu menyatakan dengan lantang: ini lah bentuk sejati bunga. Karena setiap kali aku merasa sudah mengenalnya, ia akan berganti, tumbuh menjadi sesuatu yang tidak pernah aku bayangkan. Bukan karena tidak konsisten. Hanya satu bentuk keyakinan bahwa keindahan tidak seharusnya dikurung dalam satu warna.
Menyaksikan warna yang datang silih berganti rasanya, sudah menjadi ritual tersendiri. Hingga hari ini, ketika aku kembali lagi ke taman itu. Nuansanya masih senada meski ada hening yang menyertai. Udara yang terasa lebih berat, berbeda dari biasa. Sudut taman itu justru terasa lebih diam dari sebelumnya. Anehnya, justru terasa lebih penuh. Seolah seluruh rasa yang tertanam, semua asa yang tumbuh dalam diam, sedang berkumpul jadi satu. Bersiap untuk sesuatu yang lebih tinggi. Aku terdiam, dengan napas yang tertahan.
Seketika, arah angin berubah.
Aku tidak tahu warna apa yang akan datang setelah ini.
Tapi yang pasti, aku tidak sabar untuk melihatnya.
Blumenstrauß mit französischen Tulpen und Aralie
Pure Eleganz: Der Weiße Tulpenzauber mit Eukalyptus und Grüner Frische
Tauchen Sie ein in die Welt der zeitlosen Schönheit mit unserem exquisiten Blumenstrauß, dem Weißen Tulpenzauber. Eine harmonische Komposition aus weißen französischen Tulpen, klassischen weißen Tulpen, duftendem Eukalyptus, Wild Asparagus und Aralie – ein Meisterwerk der floralen Kunst, das Eleganz und Frische vereint.
Warum unser Weißer Tulpenzauber?
Die zarten französischen Tulpen verleihen dem Strauß eine Hauch von Raffinesse, während die klassischen weißen Tulpen zeitlose Schönheit repräsentieren. Eukalyptus, Wild Asparagus und Aralie fügen eine erfrischende Note hinzu, die den gesamten Strauß zu einem Duft- und Farbfest macht.
Ein Hauch von Eleganz und Frische
Jede Blüte in unserem Weißen Tulpenzauber erzählt ihre eigene Geschichte, von der unberührten Schönheit der Tulpen bis zum belebenden Duft des Eukalyptus. Dieser Strauß ist mehr als nur Blumen – er ist eine Erfrischung für die Sinne und ein visuelles Fest der Reinheit.
Für besondere Momente des Lebens
Geburtstage, Jubiläen oder einfach nur, um einem geliebten Menschen eine Freude zu bereiten – der Weiße Tulpenzauber ist die perfekte Wahl. Sein zeitloses Design und die Frische der Blüten machen ihn zu einem Geschenk, das in Erinnerung bleibt.
Bestellen Sie jetzt und erleben Sie die pure Eleganz unseres Weißen Tulpenzaubers. Ein Blumenstrauß, der die Schönheit der Natur in Ihrer reinsten Form widerspiegelt.
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