Rosalind - Beauty and the Beast meets Dracula retelling

59-The Maiden and the Wolf

The night that found Rosalind on her third one home was relentless. Invisible hands reached for her throat as soon as her head touched the pillow. Her body threatening to purge itself of the meager meal she had eaten with her family at dinner. As she clasped her hands around her neck, she longed for the sweet surrender given to her by Caspian's latest drug. She felt like she was being suffocated. Rosalind clawed at the phantom hands until they relaxed and she could breathe.

Bolting out of bed, she stepped on the thick rug and sputtered. The bedsheets, upset by her haste, dangled off the edge of the bed and slowly slithered down to her feet.

The moon hung pregnant and full, breaking through the clouds that loitered in the dark sky. Whatever pitiful starlight had dared come out was stolen behind the vile clouds and hushed in a thick, ominous maw.

The dead butterfly lay next to her diamond pin. Moments after the tiny creature had fallen, Rosalind had run out to retrieve it, but it was too late. Guilt had now become a well-known companion. It stood beside her as she pulled her nightdress off and slipped into a simple gown made out of the same shade as the darkness outside.

"Whatever I touch turns to ashes," she said to the butterfly. The dust on its wings had vanished. Its once ethereal beauty was muted by the touch of ice and death. "But if I stay here I will lose my mind."

Rosalind tossed on her warmest boots, cape and gloves then snuck out of her room. The sound of silence greeted her as she made her way to the door. Everyone had fallen asleep, dreaming pretty pictures as her own mind played a vicious game with her.

The cold greeted her like a kiss as she hurried to the stables to saddle one of the horses.

Transylvania carried a sweet slumber in its arms like a mother with her child. Few would be out in this hour. Mainly drunks and those long since gone insane.

Rosalind got on the horse once she had led it far away from her home. With a mighty kick against its ribs, she ordered the animal to tear wildly towards the Borgo.

The lush trees leading Rosalind towards the forbidden forest turned into monstrosities. Stopping just before the Borgo Woods, she slid off the steed. Gnarled branches welcomed her as she tied her horse to a tree and stepped into Caspian's woods. Darkness in the Borgo was a deeper shade of black as if whatever moonlight tried to enter had been almost fully sucked dry. Space lighting from a few rogue stars which had torn through the veil of clouds allowed Rosalind to see.

The cold wrapped itself around her legs and tried to slither up her dress. Her deerskin boots crunched as she walked on. Looking up, Rosalind saw no magpies, nothing but a sea of trees. I will never reach the manor on my own. Rosalind winced. She did not know which direction to head towards for it all looked the same. Leaning against the bark of a tree, she buried her face in her gloved hands and exhaled sadly, knowing it would prove impossible to reach the manor now.

The tree bowed over Rosalind, shielding her from the cold. It arched its crooked branches as if in an embrace.

Who am I here for? She asked herself looking up to the crooked tree. Caspian or Troy? Do I even know? No, of course, I do not. I know nothing anymore. Slumping against the trunk, Rosalind sat in the snow. She brought her knees to her chest and rested her head on her legs. Little flakes fell as she covered her face with her arms and waited for some vile creature to come and consume her. If the bears come, I will not have to pick who I want more. It will not matter when I am nothing but bones.

Minutes passed like the ticking of a death sentence. When the sound of snow crunching was heard, Rosalind looked up only to see a vision clad in a short plum cloak stepping from beyond the trees.

Troy stopped a few feet before her. He had to blink hard to make sure he was not dreaming. "Rosalind?" he cautiously asked thinking the fall of white was blinding him from who was truly sitting there. "Is it really you?"

Rosalind rose with a startled gasp. Her heart fluttered like a caged nightingale wanting to be set free to sing. "Troy."

The young lord hurried to her and took her gloved hands in his bare ones. His lips curved in a wide smile.

"Are you not cold?" she asked, her nerves playing havoc inside her.

"No, my lady," Troy replied.

She looked at his lack of winter wear, no gloves, no scarf, and his cloak looked more suited for spring. "Why?"

Giving her hands a small squeeze, he replied. "I have forgotten how."

"You are a welcomed sight," Rosalind said honestly and pulled Troy for a hug.

"As are you," he whispered against her neck. "Why are you here?"

"Perhaps I have gone mad." Rosalind tightened her grip on him, she did not want to let him go just yet.

"I believe we all go a little mad sometimes." Troy stepped into the embrace noticing the snow clinging onto Rosalind's long winter cloak. "You should not stay here long. It is too cold."

Rosalind pulled back a touch and shook her head. "The Borgo..." her words trailed off as she looked away.

"What is it?" Troy ducked his head under hers and peeked up. Concern filled his eyes.

"It calls to me. I feel like I cannot stay away."

"Is it my father's voice which beckons you?"

Troy's words were a dagger to her heart. They made her cry out and pull herself out of his arms. Rosalind hurried behind the tree, hiding from Troy.

Following her, Troy stood behind Rosalind and put his hand on her arm. "If your heart aches for him, I cannot ease that sorrow."

"It longs for you both," her words were barely audibly.

Troy pulled her to him so that her back was against his chest.

Rosalind looked over her shoulder, trying unsuccessfully to locate the manor yet the thickly falling snow obscured her view. All that she could see when she looked around was Troy and a blinding brilliance of white.

"You are beauty in a mirage of ugly things," Rosalind said, her hands sliding over Troy's knuckles. "The time spent with you made me happy." While with Caspian she felt explosions inside her, with Troy it was like slipping into a warm bath. Where one man exhilarated her, made her feel alive and feral, the other one calmed her heart and gave her anchors when she felt she was floating out towards a turbulent sea.

"I enjoyed spending time with you, too," Troy replied. "I like your company." Turning her, he lifted one of her hands and brought it to his lips. "And the things we did."

Rosalind gave him a feathery smile. "Do you remember everything?"

Troy chuckled. "Yes," he said and shyly looked away. "You made me feel like nothing mattered but us."

Searching for his gaze, Rosalind spoke, "Troy, look at me."

The young lord gingerly tilted his head up and their eyes met. "In those moments you gave me everything I longed for."

Against a backdrop of white, Troy's hair shone like polished copper. Rosalind cupped his face and brought him close. Nose to nose, she whispered. "But I am no longer good for you. I have become a monster."

"You are nothing of the sort," Troy protested.

Rosalind kissed the tip of his nose. "We are all monsters, we just do not know it yet. We lie in wait for darkness to consume us." Her mouth lingered close to his lips, his warmth ebbed to her. "I am frightened of what I have become."

Troy brushed his lips along hers, not yet a kiss but a touch of the same longing. "You will not fall into his darkness," he soothed. "You think you will but I still see the woman who entered the manor a month ago, the sweet, gentle soul." Troy inched closer. "I see no monster." The slivers of air separating them were unbearable. Troy pulled Rosalind close and brought his lips to hers.

"Erase him from me," Rosalind cried softly into the kiss as she wrapped her long cape around him, the edges fluttering in a rogue wind like the wings of a butterfly. "Come closer, so close I feel nothing but you inside me."

Troy lifted her skirt as she untied his trousers. Against the tree, hidden by angels and demons alike, he slipped inside her, uttering promises to be there for as long as there was still breath in his lungs. 

* My thanks to my lovely Shimaira who helped guide me through this chapter when I was on the fence about a lot of things. x