could you perchance do a part two to the yuu getting sold to the highest bidder? like how would that characters treat them if they actually get them? sorry if this doesnt make sence!! but thank uu!! ^_^
more than happy to! <3 I'm writing this as a follow up/pt. 2 to this post but if you'd like something different don't be shy! I love getting requests
summary: joining their dorms + wearing the uniforms (for some). a proper ending to this
type of post: short fics
characters: trey, cater, leona, rook, idia, lilia, malleus
additional info: yuu is gender neutral, rook is weird, both fem and masc french words are used during rook's part but reader is still gn, I need to replay book 2 to get leona's voice down, Idia being fun to write, maybe a little ooc
If you thought it was bad before, the news that Malleus intended to marry you made everything about twenty times more chaotic. Bids were upped to insurmountable sums, rumors were spread like the plague, fights were raging through campus as the deadline to donate approached. Even Crowley was starting to feel a little antsy, despite all of the brand new amenities he had already ordered for his office.
Finally, the day came. The announcement was held in the courtyard, where just about any student who had stakes in the matter had shirked whatever after-school responsibilities they had to gather. The prefect themselves was nowhere to be found, though only few noticed their absence.
"Maybe it'll be nice," you say to your direbeast companion, the both of you tucked away in a dark corner at Ramshackle.
"It'll definitely beat living in this dump. You think they got good food in Diasomnia?" Grim murmurs.
You grimace. "Uh... sure. I can't imagine they wouldn't, right?"
Crowley clears his throat, pulling a thin, delicate envelope out of his coat pocket while the crowd eagerly watches on. He takes his sweet time opening it, much to everyone's utter dismay, and when he finally withdraws the contents the entire courtyard falls quiet enough to hear a pin drop.
"And our winner is..."
Trey and Cater's Ending
"Cater Diamond and Trey Clover!"
Everyone stops dead and turns to the back of the crowd. There's a certain sense of unity that, for a brief moment, everyone can feel in the form of a single thought: Them, of all people?
Cater, ever the people-person, can already tell what's on everyone's minds. "What can I say? I run a mean social media campaign. I had some sick infographics,"
Trey can only smile and shrug at the growing disdain coming from the other students, most of which from his own housewarden, who is s currently turning a lovely shade of crimson.
"...Right. Well, the prefect will be ready for you shortly," Crowley says, folding the envelope and setting it back in his pocket. "I trust your housewarden will help you sort out the details."
Riddle looks more like he's about to start throttling them.
"Nah, it's cool. We got this," Cater smiles, though he's only half paying attention as he posts an update to Magicam. "The prefect is in great hands. Right, guys?"
Ace and Deuce shrug. Not the best outcome, not the worst, and either way it's still their friend coming to stay with them. Riddle is gritting his teeth so hard you could practically hear them grinding from Ramshackle.
"Was anyone going to tell me you two had pitched in, as well? Or was it a surprise?"
Trey smiles, almost nervously. "Well-"
"We were only giving the dorm a better chance. It's basic statistics- more Heartslabyul names in the hat, more of a chance one of us will be drawn, y'know?" Cater beams. "No disrespect, of course."
"None whatsoever," Riddle hisses back.
---
"And you're sure he's not really mad?" you ask, trailing behind the two third years.
It had been almost an hour since you'd updated your Magicam feed and read the announcement firsthand, but the shock is still wearing off.
Cater scoffs. "Whaaaat? No, he's totally cool about it,"
"Well. Now he is, anyway," Trey murmurs back. "But he certainly won't kick you out. As long as you're in the dorm uniform, you're one of us. He's just upset we went behind his back."
"...Understandable,"
Cater holds the door open for you, letting you inside to see a precariously placed mannequin with a dorm uniform in your size already on it. You hate to admit it, but it's lovely.
"Riddle had one ready. You know, just in case," Trey says, gesturing you forward. "And don't worry, we'll all be taking it easy on you while you adjust."
You run your fingers down the durable fabric. "Hm. Thanks,"
"You should get changed, I need a post to commemorate the moment," Cater says, beaming. "And I kindaaaa want to rub it in for everyone else who lost out on the best giveaway ever."
Leona's Ending
"Leona Kingscholar! Please... be responsible. Ruggie, I hope you'll keep an eye out for the prefect,"
Ruggie rolls his eyes but doesn't say anything. Leona, who had been absent-mindedly picking his teeth before the big announcement, flashes a big smirk to the audience while swaggering to the front of it.
"Well, well. Look who's come in first place, after all. What, didn't think I'd bother to try?"
Vil grimaces, crossing his arms. "Is there a point to this?"
"Obviously. I'm showing off," he rolls his eyes. "I guess I'll be seeing the rest of you lot around my territory a lot more, then?"
He snickers and then disappears back inside the building. Ruggie can only shrug at the disgruntled crowd before tailing after him.
---
"Well, that felt nice," Leona sighs, stretching out on one of the lounge chairs. "Pity that I couldn't see the lizard's reaction, but I'm sure we'll get to that eventually."
You're sitting at the table across from him, playing cards with a very invested Ruggie. You raise an eyebrow. "Who?"
"Malleus," Ruggie mutters, shuffling his cards around in his hand.
"It's never a party without him, right? He was probably off cowering somewhere with his tail behind his legs," Leona chuckles, picking his teeth again. "But everyone else's faces just about made up for it."
"Whatever," Ruggie grumbles. "I'm all in."
Though you're not exactly invested in the game anymore. You set down your cards, much to Ruggie's dismay, and stand over Leona with your hands on your hips.
"I hope you know that I won't be one of your errand runners for you. I've done enough of that with Crowley,"
He pauses, sharp eyes scanning you over. "You certainly know how to rain on someone's parade,"
"This is not a parade. This is my sanity we're talking about,"
"Tch. And what're you gonna do? Run away?" Leona rolls his eyes. "Hide in the jungle? Maybe you can take Ruggie with you and make it a party!"
"Hey, leave me out of this," the aforementioned says, shuffling the deck.
You stand your ground, though you don't know what else to say. Eventually, Leona sighs.
"Fine. I won't make you do anything you don't want to if you're just going to whine about it,"
He pauses, and a small smirk crosses his face. "But you'll at least have to wear the uniform. I need the satisfaction of seeing the look on everyone else's faces."
You smile triumphantly, and sit back down across from Ruggie for another round while Leona watches on, pretending not to care about the game.
It could be better, but it could also be worse.
Plus, something about that smile of his let on more than just a little self-satisfaction.
This could definitely be interesting...
Rook's Ending
"...Ah. Rook Hunt!" Crowley says, folding the paper back in his pocket and leaning down to whisper to Azul in the front row. "Tell the prefect I said good luck."
At the heart of the crowd, Vil turns to Rook, hands on his hips. "Rook..."
"Ah, magnifique! How happy I am, my heart could weep for joy!" he says, completely ignoring whatever disappointed comment Vil was about to unleash. "I must run to my prize at once, there's not a moment to lose!"
Vil grimaces as Rook bounds off into the school, moving so swiftly that he cuts through the crowd of confused (and mildly concerned) students like an arrow.
As always, Rook is genuine with his words- he truly feels as if his own heart is about to leap out of his chest and race him towards Ramshackle.
What a chance, what an opportunity! Not only to be close to someone he has his own private fan club for, but to truly, finally possess beauty in physical form. He would display you on a shelf if it were feasible.
The idea so overwhelms him with joy that you barely had time to ask what was going on before you suddenly found yourself sitting beside him in the Pomefiore lounge as he smooths out the crinkles in your new uniform.
He murmurs under his breath, kneeling before you while inspecting the uniform. "Magnifique, joli, belle, quelle beauté, une rose parfaite..."
...Leaving you in a torn state of embarrassment and shyness. You look across the room to Vil for help, and he rolls his eyes.
"I coulda get used 'ta this!" Grim shouts, lounging on a nearby silk pillow with a mouthfull of pâté. Two freshman are tediously brushing his fur with the nicest set of combs you've ever seen.
"Comfortable?" You ask, only a little sarcastic.
"Uh-huh! Ya know, when I found out the winner was Rook, of all people, I was a little worried. But this is way nicer than collecting dust in Ramshackle!"
You couldn't have said it better yourself.
Rook smiles. "Tsk, tsk. I would never let anyone harm a single hair on your precious head,"
The question is directed to Grim, but he looks straight at you when he says it. "Like a delicate porcelain doll, I will handle you with the utmost care,"
You're not exactly sure what you had been envisioning- maybe he'd release you on a remote island and hunt you for sport?- but this had far exceeded any of your expectations.
Though his gaze is as unsettling as ever, and any hopes of personal space are gone out the ornate glass windows, his usual guarded demeanor had softened just the tiniest bit.
It was unnerving. But nice, in a way.
"Mon trickster, this is just the beginning for us. We have many shining days ahead, and I plan on spending every beautiful breath of them with you. Do you hunt?"
"Oh, sevens," Vil murmurs.
Unfortunately for Vil, Rook's smile is contagious and you can't help encouraging him. Just this once. "Not usually, no,"
"A merveilleuse opportunity! I will teach you all I have learned, then. Ah, this reminds me of a poem I wrote for this exact occasion!"
He may or may not be watching you sleep tonight. Hopefully you're the kind of person who can live with that.
Idia's Ending
LOL. Normies.
Look at them, crowding around like a bunch of sheep. As if anyone has a real chance. SMH.
I knew it was pointless to begin with, but getting into Crowley's banking account and seeing the bids... now I feel lame for even trying at all.
That money could've gone to some new parts. I've been itching to build another PC...
The door flies open, slamming against the wall behind it so loudly that even if Idia wasn't completely absorbed in watching the announcement on his biggest monitor, he would've jumped anyway.
He whirls around in his chair, wide-eyed and shaking like a prey animal, expecting to see some high level boss or classic horror game antag waiting for him.
Instead, it's Ortho. "Idy! You'll never believe-"
"Geez, Ortho, you nearly killed me. And I don't have any extra lives this time," Idia says, spinning back around to face his screen. "Something wrong?"
"Actually, I have some really great news! Wanna guess what it is?"
Idia grumbles, powering off his computer. "Nah, not in the mood,"
Ortho's brow furrows as he catches a fleeting glimpse of the camera feed playing over his brother's screen before it flickers to black. "You've been watching the announcement on the courtyard cam footage?"
"No! I mean- well, I was just curious," Idia says. "I watched for like two minutes. Who even cares about this thing, anyway?"
"Well-"
"I mean, it was a game over from the start. Taking on the highest level bosses at our school with my measly stats? Forget it,"
"But Idia-"
"Who even cares where the prefect ends up, anyway? I doubt they'd wanna be trapped in a basement like this for all eternity,"
"Idia!" Ortho shouts, loud enough to shake his brother from his ensuing pity party. Idia can only stare as he moves to the side, revealing a rather surprised looking you, dressed in the dorm uniform, behind him.
"Idia, you won!"
And then he dies.
That's what he thinks, anyway. Really, Idia goes into a state of complete shock and blacks out so hard that, for a moment, the blinding light shining through his eyelids feels like the light at the end of the tunnel.
"Is he okay?" you ask, tentatively watching as Ortho clicks off the small light he'd been shining in his brother's eyes.
"He's displaying symptoms of a panic attack. Don't worry, he gets them quite frequently,"
A distant groaning pulls the both of you back into the present moment and you watch Idia slowly rise.
"His heart rate has steadied to 70 BPM," Ortho says. You raise an eyebrow. "That's normal. Idia, can you hear us?"
He takes a long moment to respond.
"This isn't real. I'm sleep-deprived from my last speed run and now I'm hallucinating. There's no way,"
You look between the two brothers. This hasn't exactly gotten off to a stellar start.
"Your vitals are normal, although you're lacking Vitamin C. Might I suggest having a fruit cup while we talk?" Ortho asks. Idia shakes his head. "Yuu? Snack?"
"I could go for something,"
Ortho hovers out of the room, leaving the two of you alone. You're too nervous (or is he too nervous?) to ask to sit, so you stand over him while he practically rocks back and forth. His face is so red and hot with embarrassment you could cook an egg on it.
"Um..."
He mumbles back. "Just pretend I'm not here. IK you probably wanted one of those epic SSR students to pull you, I don't blame you for being disappointed,"
He talks so fast and quiet it's hard to make out what he's saying... but you get the gist of it.
"Hey, don't put words in my mouth. This is a hell of a lot better than it could have been,"
He seems to genuinely consider your words for a moment before you're interrupted by Ortho coming back with snacks.
Idia is back on high alert the second he's returned. "This doesn't make sense. I got into Crowley's online bank info and saw all the bids, I wasn't even close to the top five. How?"
"Oh, easy!" Ortho chirps. "I simply rewired funds from Crowley's bank account to up your offer!"
"You... took money out of his account and sent it back to him?"
"Clever," you murmur.
Idia grumbles. "I guess that's not technically stealing... fine. But why? I thought I told you not to bother!"
"My user intel indicates that the prefect is very popular amongst the student body. Their top three descriptors are helpful, kind, and friendly! I thought you two might be able to practice your social skills together... Perhaps you could show them around the dorm as a starting point?"
You turn around to look at Idia, who's sheet-white. Nonetheless... he sighs and stands, muttering a quick "Let's get this over with,"
You watch, as still as stone, as he stops in the doorway and turns to look at you from over his shoulder, his face and hair a pleasant shade of pink.
"Well? Are you coming?"
Lilia's Ending
"And our winner... is... hm. I don't even remember seeing this one in the pile," Crowley grumbles, scratching his head under his hat. "Um, Lilia Vanrouge!"
Silver is the first to look at him. "Fa-Lilia, I thought we talked about this,"
Lilia, currently hovering in the shade of one of the courtyard's signature apple trees, simply shrugs. As if it were the most normal thing in the world.
"Oh, we did. I really thought about what you said, about the prefect's freedom, and I decided that you're right! But how could I guarantee their safety from everyone else?"
Silver groans (which turns into a yawn) and Lilia puts on his best cute look as everyone else in the audience turns to him.
Crowley clears his throat. "The prefect will be ready for your-"
"Oh, no need! Thank you, though," he says, and then disappears into the building.
---
You've been distracting yourself by counting cobwebs for far too long, as evident by your headache and the taste of dust on your tongue.
You turn to look at Grim. "Should be over by now. I'm surprised I haven't heard anything yet,"
"Surprised, you say?"
No matter how many times he does that, you're never quite prepared.
You jump, nearly hitting your head against the table you'd been taking refuge under. Grim yowls, clawing into your sleeve (and just barely missing the tender flesh on your arm, thank goodness), and you both stare at the fae ahead of you.
Lilia is sitting on the table, hanging his head upside down and staring right at you. Grim mumbles.
"Don't even tell me. I'm out!"
Lilia waves him goodbye as he makes a swift exit, and then turns back to you.
"I have a secret. Wanna guess?"
You're a little curious (aren't you always when it comes to him?) but that isn't enough to overpower your rising dread.
"No,"
"Aw. Really? I'm sure you'll like it,"
"Definitely not, then,"
He slinks off the table and lies on the floor, cupping his face in his palms and kicking his legs back and forth.
It would be amusing if you weren't so sure of what he's about to say.
"Well, despite your best efforts, I'm not surprised at all. But Malleus couldn't even come here to get me himself?" you sigh.
Lilia tilts his head to the side. "Now, why would he do that?"
There's something written within the margins of his tone that makes your eyes lower at him. Something he's keeping from you.
"...Well... he did win, didn't he?"
"Oh, my. You were hoping for Malleus to win? Now I'm sure we both feel silly,"
You raise an eyebrow. "Hoping is... a strong word. But I was expecting it, yes. So he didn't win?"
"No, dear, Malleus is not the winner,"
"Then... who is?"
Lilia gives you a sweet, self-satisfied grin, his fangs glinting. "You're looking at him,"
Ah.
If there's one thing Lilia Vanrouge is good at, it's surprising you. No matter how stoic you act, no matter how clever you are, he always manages to catch you off guard.
This might take the cake, though.
"I didn't even know-"
"No. Initially, I wasn't going to. But Silver and I... we had a long talk about valuing your freedom and independence, and thus I so valiantly threw myself into the flames to save you from becoming someone's slave," he pauses to smile. "Chivalrous, yes?"
"...Charming," you mutter. "But what was that thing about-"
"Oh, yes. Don't worry, you'll be treated as any other student at Diasomnia. In fact, I'm sure we already have some uniforms in your size!"
"This is... quite the turn of events,"
"Ah, isn't it? I haven't felt this elated in... well... a long time," he grins. "Come along, now. I plan on treating you to a hearty welcome dinner!"
You can only grimace at that.
Malleus' Ending
During all of the confusion, the fighting, the rumors that shook the school, no one, again, had remembered to invite Malleus Draconia to the announcement.
Not that it mattered. Not this time.
One knock at Ramshackle's creaky door and you were suddenly in the depths of the forest around the school, admiring a crumbled stone structure.
"What was it?" you ask, turning to your walking companion.
Malleus smiles slightly. "I believe it was a wall. Fascinating, no? Since you have inhabited Ramshackle, I come here when I want to be alone,"
Ah, right. You'd almost forgotten that you'd made a home out of his ruins of preference.
Ramshackle was in a much better state than this, though. At least you had four walls and a roof over your head.
"Are you alone a lot these days?" you ask, rather absent-mindedly for such a heavy topic.
You're well aware of the answer already. No, of course not. Malleus is constantly surrounded, whether that be his friends, personal guard, mentors...
"Yes,"
Oh.
"I'm... sorry to hear that," it's all you can think to say.
Fae don't seem to know the conventions of human small talk. Or maybe that's just him. Not that you mind. "What about Silver, and Sebek, and Lilia...?"
"Fine companions," he crosses his arms. "I owe them a debt of gratitude. But being physically surrounded does not amount to closeness."
Oddly profound.
You can't help but relate, thinking back to everyone you know. Even with good intentions, they're still out there, bartering over your life.
"I'm glad you came and got me," you say, breaking the tense silence. "I was afraid you'd gone to that... announcement thing."
He raises an eyebrow. "The what?"
"...Never mind. I guess my point was that I've been feeling a little lonely lately, myself,"
Malleus is quiet for a moment, staring directly ahead at the mess of stones and moss that once made up a sturdy wall. Now crumbled, scattered across the ground.
And the, he smiles.
"Well, there is a solution to this trouble of ours. But I'd need your consent,"
What exactly is he getting at? You raise an eyebrow. "Go on,"
"I've been so preoccupied with the formalities that I haven't had the chance to ask you properly, yet. Lilia suggested I might have more success this way,"
He pauses, and then smiles. "I would like us to marry. Does this agree with you?"
You thought you might be stunned. Speechless, even. But the answer comes so naturally.
"Yes, it does,"
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kevin
kevin was a familiar sort of man for annie, as a therapist. he was a well-off businessman, powerful in his own kingdom, good at navigating life with a hot and crazy wife, and who had a hard time making sense of his teenage daughter.
she liked talking to him. he was a good talker, funny, and more than willing to share lots of explicit details. he told her about realizing early in his marriage he had to make time to really pound the shit out of his wife in bed every morning to keep her in a good mood all day. he told her he'd learned that his wife would always ask for him to cum inside her, but in reality she preferred it when he came all over her, making a mess of her that she had to take some time to clean up. annie could tell that kevin clocked the way annie was shifting in her seat as he told her this -- she was wet and he knew it. but he didn't comment on it. he told her he and his wife rarely had sex at night when their daughter was young, but how he'd learned to notice when she'd trimmed her pubic hair down to almost nothing it was a signal she wanted to make time to have an evening fuck, too.
"is your wife a naked around the house kind of woman?"
"yes," he said, smiling. "i wouldn't have it any other way. of course, now my daughter is that way too."
"really?" annie said. "she doesn't cover herself up around you?"
"no," he said. "i see everything."
"that's a sign of trust," annie said. "trust and confidence."
"it's funny though," he said. "you know, when my wife is all trimmed up that's a good sign. but i like it when the opposite is true with sienna."
"you like when she's not shaved because that means she's not having sex with anyone?"
he laughed. "yeah. is that awful? patriarchal and awful?"
"no," annie said. "i mean, most girls sort of like a sense of possessiveness."
"even from their fathers?"
"especially," annie said. "but also, it doesn't mean she's having sex for sure."
"what else would it be for?" he asked.
"just being horny," she said. "you know, we tend to focus on that part of ourselves when we're using it a lot. even just by ourselves."
"do women do that a lot?" he asked. "i mean, seriously. i know my wife does it but she never admits to it."
"that's funny," annie said. "i always thought that was a stereotype."
"women who don't admit to masturbating?"
"yeah," annie said. "i have always been upfront with my partners about it."
"i'm sure men like that," he said.
"especially when you tell them you jerked off before a date so you wouldn't immediately jump their bones," she said.
kevin grinned. "you're way more fun than the average therapist," he said. "and prettier." he coughed nervously. "sorry."
"it's fine," annie said. "i mean, i don't mind being told i'm pretty."
"how often do women jerk off then?" he asked.
"i do it every day," annie said. "sometimes a few times. i did it this morning in bed, and i have an hour before my next session, and i will probably do it again."
"in here?" he said.
"on that couch," annie grinned.
"you have touched yourself on this couch?"
"i've had sex on that couch," she said.
he patted the couch appreciatively. "nice."
annie laughed.
"people talk about sex in here a lot," he observed.
"yes," she said.
"how often do you get turned on during sessions?"
annie laughed. "pretty often."
"that's not only exciting but just kind of... it feels like proof that you're listening."
"i'm glad you see it that way," annie said.
as they wound down their session, kevin said, "i guess you want to get me out of here so you can... you know."
"do a little DJing?" annie joked.
he laughed. "yes," he said. "i mean, i'd gladly stick around..."
"you can," she said.
"really?" he said, surprised that his joking-but-not-joking cover had actually worked.
"sure," annie said. "we're off the clock. you want to watch me touch myself?"
"very much," he said.
annie decided to be fairly reserved -- she took off her skirt but left on her panties, which were here fairly standard white cotton bikini briefs, and sat in her chair and reached in and started touching herself. kevin stared.
"do you like to be watched?" he asked.
"yes," she moaned.
"will you take off your panties for me?" he asked.
"okay," she said. she slipped them off and tossed them toward her desk. he looked at her bald pussy and grinned. "perfect," he said.
annie was working herself up pretty rapidly. "i'm gonna cum," she told him.
"good girl," he said.
annie yelped as she climaxed. she convulsed a little in her chair and then collapsed and licked her fingers.
"will you think of me differently now?" she asked him.
he thought about it. "no," he said. "as soon as i met you, i pictured you doing that kind of thing. and worse."
"like what?" she asked, smiling.
"like taking my cock up your ass."
annie grinned. "straight up my ass huh? not even gonna lick a girl's pussy first?"
"nope," he said, "right up your ass whether you like it or not."
annie held her tongue. she was going to ask for it, but thought she might better enjoy the road where she didn't give permission.
"you should get out of my office before you do something you regret," she said.
she got up and walked toward her desk to get her underwear. he followed her, and bent her over the desk. annie gasped as she hit the wood.
"shut the fuck up," he told her, pulling out his cock and pushing it into her.
she wasn't ready of course. she liked that she wasn't ready. it fucking hurt. he pounded her ass for 30 exquisitely brutal seconds, cumming somewhere in the middle of it. then he pulled out and pulled his cock away. annie never even saw it. she fell to the floor. he left her office immediately.
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A Day Late: A Beauty and the Beast Retelling
Beatrice scrambled through the rose garden, tripping over the deep gold skirts she'd worn specifically to look nice for her host. Where was Beast? He wasn't in the library, dining room, conservatory, aviary, music room, ballroom, study, parlor, billiard room, or any of the castle towers. She'd thought she'd find him brooding in a melancholy corner, awaiting her return, but she was running out of melancholy corners and beginning to get frustrated. Where could an eight-foot-tall dog-tiger-monkey man possibly hide?
The garden had changed. The usual balmy summer had become oppressively hot and humid. The roses drooped. The damp air clung to Beatrice's skin and red curls escaped her hairpins and frizzed around her face. Where were the sparkling sunshowers that kept the gardens moist? Where were the playful breezes that kept the air fresh and cool? Beatrice hadn't seen so much as a fluttering curtain to indicate the presence of an invisible servant. Everything was silent. Still. Dead.
Half-mad with anxiety, she raced down cobbled paths and across the wide lawns where she and her Beast had played so many games of croquet. Past fountains where they'd splashed each other in ferocious water battles. She trampled beds of pansies and tore holes in hedges and prayed the invisible gardener would forgive her. If Beast meant to get revenge for her delay in returning, he was doing an excellent job of it, but when--yes, when--she found him, they would have words about how a single day of waiting did not justify throwing your guest into a blind panic.
She checked every bench in the garden, navigated the entire hedge maze, and even took a raft to check the bottom of the lily pond. When she came ashore, she leapt a short hedge and found herself at the far end of the south lawn, where the lush grass gave way to rougher scrub as the palace grounds approached the surrounding woods. A creek babbled over stones, separating forest from palace, and not far from its bank, Beatrice saw a lump of tawny-striped fur covered in a familiar blue cloak.
Beatrice raced to Beast's side and found him barely conscious. His fur was dull, his eyes were glassy, and he panted in the heat. The sharp teeth sticking out of his pointed muzzle were as dry as his black nose.
Beatrice struggled to catch her breath, then gasped, "Beast! What happened?"
Beast lay curled up on his right side, legs bent to his chest like a newborn babe, while he clutched his long tail in one monkey-like hand. Softly, he said, "You broke your promise."
How could he be so maddening? "It was one extra day! I haven't seen my family in nearly two years! I thought you could manage without falling into a melancholic decline!"
Beast squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his jaw against some internal pain. "I told you. Three days only. Or I waste away and die."
"I thought it was a metaphor! You know how dramatic you get!"
He shook his head. "Rules of this place."
Beatrice's stomach sank. Though the sun shone hot as ever, it seemed to Beatrice as though a cloud had blocked all the light. She didn't...he couldn't...
Had she killed him for one extra day at home?
She clenched her jaw to hold back tears, furious that she was even considering wasting time by crying.
Beatrice pulled off the Beast's cloak, revealing that he was clad in the loose white shirt and rough brown trousers he typically wore in the gardens. She knelt beside him and snarled, "You can tell whoever runs this place, from me, that I am sick to death of their rules." She started loosening the shirt's laces, grinding out words with each piece of the string she yanked from the bindings. "Life imprisonment because my father stole a rose. Required daily marriage proposals. No dessert unless you eat the vegetables first. And now this!" She pulled out the entire string and threw it aside in a huff. "And worst of all, you follow those rules. You call yourself a beast, but you're just a fluffy little chicken."
Beast grimaced, and sounded apologetic as he rasped, "Not like...those rules. Law...like gravity."
Oh, was he really going to lecture over semantics when he was dying? "And that one's breakable! Haven't you heard? There are men in the south who fly in balloons. You can break any rule you want if you've got enough gumption." She grasped his muzzle in her hands and turned his head so he met her eyes. "Do you understand? You are not going to die on me."
Even though he could barely hold open his eyes, a corner of his wide mouth twitched upward. Good. He had enough life in him to laugh at her. "I'll try."
"You will do more than try." She stood and looked around wildly, desperate for something that could help. Where were those servants?
"You're just overheated," she said, willing it to be true. "Nothing to do with me. You're the one who came out here covered in fur in this eternal July."
Water. She needed water. She rushed to the creek and cupped what she could in her hands. She brought it back to him and he lapped at the scant film of droplets that she managed to hold through her mad flight. It barely dampened the tip of his tongue, yet Beatrice rushed back to the creek again, again, again, not knowing what else to do and thinking that any water was better than leaving him here to fetch other tools. Knowing him, he'd die the minute she walked away.
She babbled as she worked. He couldn't die so long as she kept him distracted, right? "It was one extra day. I didn't think you'd mind. My eldest sister has a new baby. The smiling-est thing you've ever seen. Four months old. I nearly stuck her in my bag and brought her with me. I couldn't leave so soon when there were babies."
Beast lapped weakly at the water in her hands, his eyes shut, as if merely moving his tongue was exhausting.
"My father begged me to stay," she said, desperate for him to understand. "He's gotten so old since I last saw him. I was afraid he'd be dead before I got leave for another visit."
Now Beast lay dying, and all she could do was bring sips of water. There had to be a better way to help him.
Her eyes fell on the cloak and inspiration struck. She gathered it up in deep blue folds, carried it to the bank of the stream and dunked it beneath the water. She fumbled it, dripping, into a ball against her chest, then staggered back to where Beast lay and squeezed as much water as she could over his body.
That woke him up. All his limbs jolted and his eyes opened wide.
"Good," she said with triumph, mercilessly squeezing more water from the saturated cloak. "You wake up and pull yourself together."
She squeezed the last of the water onto his tongue, then carried the cloak back to the river, shouting back to him, "You're the only dog-tiger-monkey-man thing in existence, you know. If you die, you'll be responsible for the extinction of an entire race, and you don't want that on your conscience, do you?"
She dunked the cloak back in the stream, shivering from more than the cold shock of the water. I don't want it on mine.
What if this didn't work? What if he died? Would she be set free? Could she even call such a life freedom? What would her life be without his morning grumbling and his terrible jokes? Who would listen to her ramble about the books she never finished? Or try the bread recipes she burned? How could her life have any joy, without him there to ramble through the gardens with her, or trounce her at billiards, or put up new curtains in her room, or talk about...well, everything, in a way she could with no one else?
It didn't matter because he wouldn't die. She couldn't let him.
But there were things she had to tell him.
She hefted the water-soaked cloth, struggling to gather it in her arms. "You know what I decided, in that extra day at home? It wasn't home anymore. Oh, it's nice. My family's there. Good memories. But I was homesick that fourth day. For the palace. For you." She gathered a heavy fold of the cloak against her chest while another one slipped from her grasp. "It seems that I love you. And the very next time you propose, I plan to marry you."
If the situation hadn't been so desperate, Beatrice would have looked back to see Beast's reaction. After she’d refused him five-hundred and twenty-eight times, her acceptance would be a shock. It had shocked her, that night at home, to realize how much she missed the nightly proposals, and how slim her reasons for refusal were getting.
Behind her, Beast said weakly. "You'll...marry me?"
The cloak slipped from Beatrice's arms, and she cursed under her breath. "Yes, you overgrown throw rug, but first you have to live long enough to do it."
That was unfair. He deserved an explanation. She reached under the water for the cloak, but the current pulled bits of it just beyond her grasp. "You’re as much a prisoner here as I am, so I can’t blame you for that anymore. Your face is kind of endearing, now that I’m used to it. And marriage doesn’t seem so terrible now, not if it’s with you. You’re much smarter and kinder and more fun than any of the human-looking men I know. And you’re much more patient with my temper and my tongue.”
"Beatrice."
Beast's voice, filled with awe, sounded stronger. The dousing must have done him good.
She sprawled across the bank and flailed an arm beneath the water, catching a corner of the cloak. "You’re too good of a man inside to really be a beast. You said once you had human parents, didn't you?"
"Beatrice."
The cloak slipped away again. She stuck her arm in the current, almost up to the shoulder, and snapped, "Will you quit distracting me?"
At last, she snagged one edge in her left hand and continued, "Not that I mind if you naturally look like that. You can’t help the way you were born. But have you ever considered that it could be an enchantment? Maybe we could find a way to break it, after we’re married.”
"Beatrice, look at me."
Beatrice was offended at the hint of laughter in Beast's voice. Enchantment wasn't a completely ridiculous idea, not in a place like this.
"I know what you look like," she snapped. She rose to her knees and pulled the wet cloak halfway out of the water. "Doesn't mean you always looked like that. Maybe you're enchanted and just forgot about it."
A heavy hand gripped her shoulder. A human hand. A male hand.
Beatrice shrieked and pushed the hand away, scrambling backward along the bank like a crab. A tall, olive-skinned, dark-haired man stood over her, grinning like a madman.
Beatrice glanced wildly around. How had he gotten here? Had he come from the forest? He looked rough enough, wearing nothing but a long white nightshirt. Someone's escaped lunatic relative? Or maybe he was the true master of this place, the one who'd made all those maddening rules.
She looked to Beast for answers--except that Beast was nowhere in sight. No sign of him save the matted grass where he'd been laying a minute ago. Beast had been weak. Vulnerable. Had this stranger finished him off? Perhaps she’d run out of time, and the rules of this place had dissolved what was left of him.
She reached further up the bank and seized a fallen branch with a thick shaft and a spray of branching twigs. Madman or mad fairy, she wouldn't go down without a fight. She hefted her weapon, pitiful as it was, with all the menace she could muster in her small form. "Stay back!"
The stranger backed away, hands held protectively before him, but his eyes sparkled with laughter. "Beatrice, don't you recognize me?"
There was something familiar in his voice, which might explain how he knew her name. Cautiously, she rose, the branch still held protectively before her, to examine him more closely. Recognition flashed like a lightning bolt. "The narcissist!"
The stranger gaped. "Excuse me?"
Beatrice examined the features. She was right. She was sure of it. She'd know those green eyes and sharp cheekbones anywhere. The clothes were different and the hair was longer, but the face was identical. "The man with all the portraits!"
How she and Beast had laughed over those portraits, which seemed to haunt every corner of the palace, far outnumbering any other faces in the artwork. The sitter could be seen wearing military dress in the foyer, riding clothes in the library, and evening dress in the ballroom. He had posed in summer, winter, and spring, and had been painted with hunting dogs in autumn. A child version of him had even posed, sulking, next to a standing globe in a portrait hung in a back hallway. She had privately dubbed the subject a narcissist–a man with so many portraits was far too in love with his own face.
Now the vast array of portraits made sense. He was the master of the castle, maker of the magical rules, come to deal with her now that Beast was...no, he wasn't dead.
She brandished the branch again. "What did you do with Beast?"
"Nothing. You--"
She whacked him with the branch. "I did not kill him!"
He pushed the twigs out of his face and backed away. "Beatrice, my love, please!"
She whacked him in the stomach for that one. "I am not your love."
"Then why," he gasped, doubled over and wheezing, "did you just agree to marry me?"
Beatrice froze. What did he mean? Had he overheard...?
She was missing something here.
She discarded her theories and looked at the evidence afresh. Beast dying. Beast missing. Portrait man here. Wearing shirt a lot like Beast's that was far too big for him. Talking, now that she thought of it, in a voice remarkably similar to her Beast’s.
She threw the branch aside. "I am the biggest idiot alive!"
The man caught his breath and stood upright, grinning ear to ear. Even his smile looked a bit like Beast's. "I'd agree," he said, in Beast's velvet, teasing tones, "except that I'm still living."
Beatrice leaped toward him, flung her arms around his neck, and buried her face in his shoulder. He smelled of sweat and mud and rotting fur. She’d never smelled anything sweeter. "I told you that you were enchanted."
#
Beatrice sat with her Beast on the riverbank as the sun sank toward the horizon. The enchanted high summer had given way to the mellow autumn of the outside world. A castle full of servants, now visible, roamed the grounds behind them, greeting each other with joy as they celebrated the end of the enchantment, but Beatrice had yet to move from the river’s edge. She had too much to discuss with her prince.
Her prince. She still couldn't quite wrap her head around it. His Royal Highness Prince Matteo Adriano Edmondo Nicolo, twelfth son of King Inocenzo of Bellarosa, had rejected a fairy’s marriage proposal, and consequently found himself cursed into the form of a beast until a woman accepted his hand in marriage.
“Was that all it took?” Beatrice exclaimed. “You could have told me sooner!”
Matteo laughed. “It wouldn’t have been much of a curse if I could have told you.”
“You could have hinted!”
“Daily marriage proposals weren’t hint enough?”
She laughed, acknowledging his point. “What a pair we make–a girl too dense to accept a prince’s proposal and a prince obnoxiously in love with his own beautiful face.”
Matteo raised one of his perfect dark brows. “Why do you insist I’m vain?”
“Your royal highness, no one needs that many portraits of himself.”
He threw his hands up in feigned distress. “I’m royal! My mother commissioned them!”
“You didn’t need to display them so ostentatiously.”
“You think I had a choice?” His manner suddenly became subdued. “The fae arranged that. Made it impossible to forget what I’d lost.”
Beatrice took his human hand in hers. “I’m sorry I delayed so long.”
He pulled her into an embrace. “I’d say you were right on time.”
Her stomach twisted with guilt. She hadn’t been on time.
She rested her head on his shoulder, still barely able to believe he was alive and well. She closed her eyes, trying to shut out the mental image of his dying beastly form. “What if I hadn’t accepted?” she asked. “Would you truly have died?”
She felt the rumble of his answer in her own chest. “Yes.”
“Why?”
“Under the terms of the curse, I would remain a beast until you accepted my hand in marriage, or until you left and doomed me to death.”
She looked up and gaped at him in amazement. “And yet you let me leave.”
“I wouldn’t die immediately,” Matteo said, “and I couldn’t deny you the chance for happiness. So long as you returned before three days were over, neither of us would come to harm.”
Despite the risk to himself, he had taken the chance. He had trusted her.
And she’d returned after four days.
“I nearly killed you,” she whispered. “I’m so sorry.”
“It’s not your fault. You didn’t know.”
“I still should have come back when I promised.”
He ran his thumb along her face. “Under the circumstances,” he said with a laugh. “I think I can forgive you for being a single day late.”
She put her hands and his shoulders and met his gaze straight-on. “You really are far too forgiving.”
“You saved me from my curse! I’d be worse than a beast if I refused to forgive you after that.”
He’d left her such an easy opening. She couldn’t resist the chance to tease him. “You’re worse than a beast now, your highness. You’re not nearly so lovable without the tail."
He became strangely subdued at that.
“Beatrice,” he said at last. “Do you truly wish to marry me?”
A natural question, perhaps, given her number of refusals. But she really wished he’d quit asking. "Of course I do. It broke your curse. What more proof do you need?"
He looked down, suddenly shy and earnest as a schoolboy. "Do you still wish it? You agreed to marry a beast, not a prince with too many portraits."
Beatrice laughed at that. She couldn’t help it. “How shallow do you think I am? If I agreed to marry you as a beast, I'm certainly not going to refuse you just because you have a little less fur."
His face eased. She was glad. She'd seen him in enough distress today.
Another thought struck her. "Did you mean it? Do you really wish to marry me, or did you just propose to get your pretty face back?"
Matteo threw back his head and laughed. "Beatrice, darling, I've loved you since the day you tied a knot in my tail for defeating you at billiards.”
Beatrice grinned, the last of her doubts flying away. "Then it’s settled. I'll marry you, you'll marry me, we both love each other. Does that sound right?"
Matteo pulled her in for a kiss. "That sounds like an excellent plan."
When they pulled apart, a cool wind came off of the river, and Beatrice shivered.
"I wish I had a cloak to offer you, but someone threw mine in the creek," Matteo said.
"You're terrible!" Beatrice said, but she accepted his arm and his escort back toward the palace.
As they crossed the south lawn, Beatrice said, "You know, I'll have to go back to my father's soon. Someone has to tell my family about the wedding."
Matteo nodded. "Of course. Under one condition."
She pulled away and looked up at him in exaggerated disgust. "More rules? I thought we were done with all that."
He waved a hand to dismiss her protests. "I think you'll find these conditions acceptable." He numbered his points on his fingers. "You may return if I can accompany you. And this time, you can stay as long as you like."
"That's two conditions."
"Do you object?"
Beatrice took his arm and continued walking toward the lighted palace. It was good to be home. "Not at all."
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