Flight of Frost and Aurora

Chapter 34

"Now, remember what I taught you, Lute," Eisheth said, carefully dressing her daughter for the evening. "You must learn how to attract a man and, more importantly, how to keep him in line. Men, by nature, can be rather foolish and are primarily good for two things. Do you remember what they are?"

"Money and breeding," Lute replied confidently.

"Exactly," Eisheth said with a knowing smile. "There's a reason men are often compared to dogs. Cause in reality, men are dogs, and women are their masters."

"Does that mean you have to train them like dogs?"

"Pretty much," she replied with a smirk. "It took me ages to properly train your father, but your stepfather? Well," she chuckled mischievously, "he was ready to roll over and beg at my command from day one."

Alastor rolled his eyes, irritation boiling beneath the surface as he eavesdropped on the two harpies. They were taking their sweet time getting ready, droning on about their opinions on men, and he found himself growing increasingly impatient. At this rate, it felt like they wouldn't leave with Lucifer until New Year's.

"I don't know about Lucifer, but I am no one's dog," he thought. "And you two are nothing more than squawking turkeys I'd love to pluck and roast over a fire—slow and painfully!"

However, his patience was eventually rewarded. As soon as they finally departed, Alastor slipped inside the house and made a beeline for Lucifer's room. He rummaged through the wardrobe until he found exactly what he was looking for. With a sense of urgency, he hurried back outside to find Charlotte.

Fortunately, the recent snowfall had left a trail of footprints that he eagerly followed. He crossed the road, climbed over a hill, and soon found her sitting by a grave, tears streaming down her face.

She was crying at her mother's grave, a sanctuary she turned to whenever life felt overwhelming. But today, the weight of despair pressed heavily on her heart, making it hard to hold onto hope. She struggled to believe that brighter days lay ahead—that if she could just summon the courage and kindness within her, happiness and love would eventually find their way back into her life.

All she longed for was this one night—the night of the ball. A chance to dance and revel in the joy of the holiday season alongside her father and friends. Yet, her stepmother and stepsister couldn't even allow her that small reprieve.

"Why do they hate me so much, Mama?" she wept. "I try so hard to be good to them, to love them, to create a real family. But no matter what I say or do, no matter how much effort I put in, it feels like they only hate me more and more!"

"Remember to have courage and be kind. Do so, and you will always be loved, no matter what happens."

"Always be loved, no matter what happens," she recalled. "Oh, Mama, I know you'd never lead me astray, but right now, I don't feel loved at all."

Alastor approached quietly, not wanting to startle her. He felt a pang of sympathy as he watched Charlotte wipe her tears, her shoulders shaking with quiet sobs. He had seen her in moments of strength, but this vulnerability tugged at his heart.

"Charlotte," he said softly, taking a seat beside her on the cold ground. "I didn't mean to intrude. I just... I wanted to check on you."

She looked up, her eyes red and puffy, but there was a flicker of gratitude in her gaze. "Alastor," she whispered, her voice trembling. "I didn't expect to see anyone here."

"Please don't cry," he said. "It's not over yet. You can still go."

"No I can't!" She said. "I don't even have a dress to wear."