Rosalind - Beauty and the Beast meets Dracula retelling

37- But A Dream

Clairie leaned over Rosalind. "Are you unwell, miss?" Her eyes were full of concern. She was more than a simple maid. Clairie and Rosalind had practically grown up together. Nearly the same age, the two young women, though from very different homes and wealth, grew up close.

"I am ill, Clairie. So very ill." In her bedroom at the Hershel home, Rosalind's forehead burned. Sweat trickled down her temples, down her shoulders and into her black gown, the same luxurious gown with the black lace the lord had gifted her. One which hung in the closet like a sliver of night. Touching a feverish hand to the collar of her dress, Rosalind furrowed her brows. "Why am I not in my nightgown?"

Clairie leaned over her mistress and gently wiped a damp strand of raven hair away. "Because miss..." The young maid brought her hands to her throat.

Rosalind saw the other woman pale. Worry invaded her tone. "Because what, Clairie?"

"You are in mourning, miss."

Rosalind wanted to get out of her bed yet the fever kept her weak. Immobile. "Who, Clairie? Who am I mourning?"

The maid lowered her hands. They were covered in blood. Snow began to fall around them and soon the room was covered in white. When Clairie reached for her mistress, Rosalind saw the veins pulsing in her throat. "Me, miss. You are mourning me," the maid said as blood fell from her lips and onto her white apron.

Rosalind opened her eyes. The raspy breath coming from within her sounded like someone else's. "Clairie!" she called, yet was greeted by nothing more than the gentle crackling of the logs in her fireplace.

Rosalind's gaze fell to the silver tray waiting for her. For a foolish moment, she believed she was back home. Pushing off the covers, she noticed she was not in the black gown yet in her ivory one and came to understand what she had thought was real had only been a nightmare. "Oh, Clairie, I hope you are well." Bringing her hands to her face, Rosalind rubbed at her temples, trying to stop the throbbing. "A dream. It was but a horrible dream." Stepping out of bed, she made her way to the tray in a daze. Rosalind sat down. Though she was looking at the food and the steam rising from her tea, her mind lingered on her friend. "This house bares nothing but bad dreams. It offers me no solace." Absentmindedly she took a warm bun and began pulling it apart.

The shadow of a tall tree swayed against the far wall and the branches reached out. Rosalind dropped the bun when the thought of the figure in the hall pushed thoughts of Clairie away and invaded the personal space in her brain. She gripped the armrest, her fingers squeezing onto the wood.

Before her, visions swarmed. The tentacles. The figure stepping out of the cracks on the wall and growing body parts to resemble someone human, yet not quite. A black gown. A crown of ice and thorns. The darkness surrounding it, the way the shadow inched near and seeped into her mind.

Come closer.

Rosalind clasped her hands over her face and moaned.

Closer. Closer. Until...

The green eyes. They way they bore into her. "No, no, no."

...you are inside me...

Just before Rosalind had fainted, the face hovering before her became clear as day. The green eyes, the ones she knew all her life dug into the very core of her.

...and I inside you.

They were the same eyes and the same face she saw every time she looked in the mirror.

"I am simply going mad." With a swift intake of breath, Rosalind lowered her arms and clasped her hands on her lap. "There is nothing more to it than the fact that I am hallucinating from madness." She pursed her lips and shook her head. "I did not see myself with octopus arms. I am not a monster crawling from cracks in the wall." She filled her lungs with air, breathing swiftly till she began to feel lightheaded. The little sweets in the bowl, the butterflies crawling out as though they were newly hatched. Rosalind gave a dry laugh. "Nothing more than a bit of crazy. Perhaps I have forgotten what it is like to be sane."

Rising, she decided to splash some water on her face and brush her hair but avoided the mirror hanging above the basin as she did so.

When she returned to the tray, the tea was still warm enough to drink. Rosalind had managed to eat half a bun to distract herself when Agnes knocked at the door and entered.

"My lady," Agnes curtsied. "You slept a lot today. Are you unwell?"

Rosalind blanched at Agnes' words. Pursing her lips she replied. "I had a strange dream."

Walking to the tray, Agnes frowned when she saw it was nearly untouched. "I do hope it was not a nightmare."

"Something akin a nightmare, dear maid. I found myself in a long hallway, one that was very dark. Then in one which was very bright."

Agnes raised her eyes slightly. "Perhaps--"

Rosalind continued, "I saw something that frightened me. But what frightens me more is that I am unsure it really was a dream." She looked up at Agnes and in a whisper confessed "In the marrow of me, I think everything I witnessed was real."

"Bad dreams often feel real, my lady. It does not mean they are."

"Good maid, it was so terrifying that I fainted right there on the stone floor. But...somehow," she cast a look to the bed. "I found myself waking up here, in this room, tucked in my bed safe and sound."

"My lady," Agnes stood by Rosalind, her hands clasped in each other so tightly her knuckles turned white. It was barely a few hours ago when she found the young woman unconscious on the floor and brought her back to her chamber before the lord found her. "You are safe and sound in your room. It was but a dream," Agnes lied. "You have nothing to fear."

Something in the maid's tone told Rosalind Agnes was speaking half-truths.

"Swear to me, good maid, swear upon the Lord of Heaven that I am safe and that it was but a dream and nothing more."

Agnes felt blood rushing through her brain making her eyes ache. She heard the hammering of her heart. Not once had she lied to God. Not once. "My lady...I..." her mouth opened and closed, yet words did not come out.

"You cannot swear, can you?" Rosalind whispered.

Agnes hung her head. Silently, she shuffled to the tray and picked it up. "If you please, my good lady," she said softly, "Lord Caspian will be expecting your presence for dinner in two hours."