Welcome to Miror

Padraic the Werepoodle

Female Main Character x Male Monster

Scandal seems to be so easy to start and so hard to keep contained. For years my family has struggled to keep up the dazzling veneer we're known for. My father was a well-known author, writing tales of terror, well-loved and highly lauded by his peers. That lasted until a bitter rival found out the family secret and spread it as far and wide as he could - my father wasn't the writer, I was. Being a young, unmarried woman, the scandal was instant and venomous. My family became a mockery, and my father was called as many horrible names as I was. I could easily write a book about the horrors we received in the post, but no one would read it now.

I had to use my father's name to write my works. No one would believe a sane, well-to-do woman could write horror, let alone write at all. My parents believed in my work, and they still do despite what we are now facing. They have always let me and my sisters live our lives as best we could. But now, in order to protect me, they have agreed I should marry.

I am an unlikely marriage prospect for anyone in our local circle, so my parents have searched farther and farther afield for some rich lord who would care little for the affairs of city life. This makes me more nervous than I expected, as I have lived in the city all my life. I know nothing of the country aside from being far away from the amenities I am used to. I'd be far from my family and friends, but I have to concede it is the safest option for me.

Eventually my parents find a proper suitor, described as distinguished and well-groomed despite his rural home. He is a baron who owned a great deal of land in the northern countryside. He keeps a beautiful orchard, my mother says, and maintains an active social life, which she said will help me acclimate. I am to marry Padraic Chapdelaine after a brief meeting, which is his request. He says he will not consent to the marriage until he hears from me in my own words.

I am taken to his estate, which is quite grand for something so remote. There are accents of pale blue and primrose pink against the sea of the orchard behind it, and white statues lining the grounds. I did not know what to think of this man at all from the outside of his home. Is this all to his taste? Is he trying to impress someone? I can't imagine.

As I step from the carriage, the pink doors opened and a pack of dogs come rushing down the stairs. I'm surrounded by the sniffing, panting horde, and I must admit I am enamored. The dogs smell like rosewater and are happy to be greeted. Some wear blue ribbons, others pink, but they all look so meticulously applied. I am happy to pet each one. I do love dogs; in our childhood, my sisters and I shared a Great Dane we called Mortimer, but upon his passing we never had the heart to replace him.

A loud whistle breaks the dogs' celebration, and they go rushing back to the foot of the stairs and sit like proper gentlemen and ladies. I rise from the cobblestones, smoothing out my skirts as my prospective husband descends the stairs. I am surprised by how foppish he appears, wearing a pink suit with gold applique and a cane to match. His hair is white and so perfectly coiffed I would almost believe he was born with it in that fashion. His shoes, shined to a gemstone brilliance, have a high heel, giving his strong legs a well-defined shape.

Despite all this glamour, he does not need it. For it is his face that shines the brightest, and I am flabbergasted by his beauty. His brows are dark and highly arched, his nose is sleek, his cheekbones are high, his lips are rosy, and his jawline looks sharpened by the gods. His eyes, too, capture my full attention; he could but look at me and I would be spellbound forever. They are a beautiful hazel with flecks of emerald and gold, lined by thick black lashes. My parents did not warn me! I would fall for him even if he was cruel to me.

He gives me a sweeping bow, and not a hair moves out of place. I could swoon. I curtsy as elegantly as possible, afraid that in choosing a comfortable dress for travel, I have already made a bad impression upon him. I am tired and I know it shows. I will never match his beauty, but that is a sacrifice I am willing to make.