Rosalind - Beauty and the Beast meets Dracula retelling

72- Rosalind's Return

The magpie touched its feet to a low branch and looked over its shoulder. There was no one following it. What spread before the bird was a sheet of white. Able to easily see through the snowy veil, it noticed that the young woman was laying on the ground – silent and still. Hopping on the branch, the magpie turned around and pointed its beak towards her. With a tilt of its head, it watched the human as flurries covered her.

"Caw!" called the bird but the woman remained still. Spreading its wings it flew to her and landed upon her like a shadow. The magpie nudged her arm with its beak. Seeing no reaction, it ruffled its feathers then took off to the sky, flying towards the manor.

Ruby red eyes were able to see through the snow others would be blinded in. In a matter of minutes, it landed upon a ledge outside Caspian's bedroom and tapped its beck against the glass.

The lord sat by a lit fire. It had been a long time since he had felt the warmth do anything other than burn his skin. Belua lay on his lap, the book opened to the last poem Rosalind had recited to him. When he heard the magpie tapping, he turned his attention to it and rose off the armchair. Setting the book carefully on a small side-table, Caspian headed towards it.

The moment the lord opened the window, the bird began to caw loudly, hopping from foot to foot with great urgency.

"What insanity is this?" Caspian asked in a deep tone.

The black bird, frustrated by the lord's lack of understanding, pecked along the frame of the window.

"Begone!" Caspian lifted his hand to shoo the bird but the creature flew inside the room like some unwelcomed guest and perched upon the poetry book.

"Caw!" it bellowed as it picked at the cover feverishly. "Caw!" The book fell onto the floor when the magpie began to scratch at it with its clawed feet. Fluttering down, the bird's beak flipped through the pages until it came to the dedication. The magpie began a mad little dance around the page as Caspian headed to it.

"Rosalind?" he asked, his voice hushed to a whisper. "Where is she?"

Pushing itself off the book, the bird flew out in the direction of the open door.

The lord's cruel heart beat with both joy and sorrow. Has she come back to me? He thought. Has she lost her way? Following the magpie out of the room both he and the animal tore down the stairs feverishly.

Once the main door was thrust open, the bird flew out. Caspian spread his wings and followed.

Black wings tore through the immaculate white. Caspian soared behind the bird. Every flap of his wings brought him closer to his beloved. As beast and bird moved around the trees, the wind whipped along them, coming from every direction. Handfuls of snow were tossed in the air. The cold was cruel and bit into skin like a vampire.

Spotting Rosalind on the ground next to her bags, Caspian and the bird lowered themselves by her. Unbeknown to both of them, the vorpal lay silent among Rosalind's dresses. 

"Beloved!" the lord knelt by Rosalind's icy body. Touching her skin, he felt just how cold she was. When he leaned his head to her chest, he could barely hear her heart beating. "I will not lose you," he said as he scooped her and her two bags up and held her close. His dark wings carried them up into the sky.

The magpie watched them go. With its task done, it turned in the opposite direction and flew away.

The manor felt as hot as coals. Snow fell from the lord's cape onto the ground with each step. As he hurried up the stairs and down the hall, he nearly collided with Agnes.

"My lord." Taking one look at the woman in Caspian's arms, the maid gasped. "What is she doing back?"

Caspian turned to Agnes and glared at her. "She came back for me," he hissed. "I found her in the snow. She is near frozen and I do not have time for any of the words spewed from your lips." Pushing past the maid, Caspian headed towards his chamber.

"Let me help," Agnes called. "I care for her, too."

"No," Caspian growled just before he entered his room. "I do not want your help, old woman. Return to your kitchen or your God. Let us be." Kicking the door behind him, it slammed loud enough to make Agnes tremble.

The angry vibration rippled to Troy's room. The young lord timidly stepped out of his chamber and saw Agnes standing there, her hand reaching for the cross she hid under her collar.

"Good maid." Troy took a step outside of his door, lingering in the embrace of a shadow. "Who has my father brought to the manor?"

Lowering her hand, Agnes let out a small cry as she hurried to Troy. "Please, return to your room," she said gently, "and let whatever is simply be."

"Agnes." Troy furrowed his brows. "Who was he carrying. I must know." His eyes stormed over. He knew it could only be one person yet he had to hear it out loud.

"My little lord," Agnes said keeping her tone soft. "It is her."

When Troy shook his head and tears threatened to fall, Agnes reached for his hands. "Rosalind," he said choking back a sob. "It is her."

Nodding, Agnes knew that Rosalind's return would cause trouble for the maid knew that the young woman was in love with both men and both loved her. "She is back, my lord. And I fear her return is going to destroy us all. Her included."

"I must see her," Troy uttered.

"No." Agnes held tightly onto him. "Stay away from them both. Do not show your father that you know she is here for I fear he will not be kind to you."

"He is not kind to me now."

"My young lord," Agnes said lowering her voice. "I know how she feels about you."

Troy grimaced as though he was punched. "Do you also know how she feels about him?"

It took Agnes a moment, but she nodded. "I do. And if he were to ever find out how she feels about you both.." her words trailed off, the maid was unable to complete her sentence. "Stay in your room. Stay in the woods. Stay away," Agnes warned. "I beg of you."

Troy did not know if that would be possible. The feelings he carried for Rosalind ran deep like the roots of an ancient tree. But he looked at Agnes and knew he would have to tell her what she needed to hear. "Yes, good maid. I will stay away." Sliding his hands out of her old, work-worn ones, Troy returned to his room and closed the door behind him.

Alone in the hall, Agnes felt the walls whimper for they knew that Rosalind's return could possibly bring more chaos than that which Caspian had brought these past one hundred years.