Rosalind - Beauty and the Beast meets Dracula retelling

46-The Lily and the Rose

Standing at the basin of Troy's bedroom, Rosalind neatly folded the hand towel and set it down. There was a small mirror above which she dared not cast her eyes towards. Voices simultaneously raged inside her. Some chastising. Some approving.

What have you done?  Rosalind flinched at the scolding tone pinching the inside of her head. Have you left your dignity in the forest? Her fingers gripped at her skirt, digging into the material.

As soon as the scolding began, it was just as swift to scurry away. Replacing it was another voice shifting to something softer. This voice settled upon her shoulder as fragile as a kiss. Troy is the distraction you need. He is the only bit of beauty you have found in this wretched place. There is an undeniable attraction, a thread that pulls you to him and him to you. He would not have permitted you to touch him were he not keen on it himself.

Rosalind looked down at her hand. All traces of the young lord were gone and her shame turned to sorrow.

Tentatively raising her gaze to the mirror, she saw Troy getting dressed. When his trousers and shirt were back on, he moved to his violin and began putting it away.

"Play something for me?" Rosalind asked.

The violin touched the velvet interior but the bow remained in Troy's grasp. "Of course." Standing straight, he moved the instrument to his shoulder. Troy was flustered. Still lost in the fact that he had just, moments ago, come in Rosalind's hand. Feeling foolish for his moment of shyness, he grazed his lower lip with his teeth before arching his fingers over the neck of the violin, a hair's breadth away from the strings.

In the hallway, nothing living stirred. Outside the only sign of life was the constant fall of snow. Everything with a heartbeat had already left. Rosalind and Troy were the only two left alive, or so it felt. There was a painful silence the violin dared break once the bow touched the strings. The melody was slow as if sleepwalking through a mist. A deep sorrow pierced every note.

Rosalind sat on the cushions and looked up as Troy played. The tune made her heartache.

His fingers moved expertly, as though he had been playing all his life. But how long has all his life been? When she realized Troy had been alive under the curse as long as Caspian and Agnes, she winced. He has had one hundred years to practice! The realization came to Rosalind in waves. She felt as though she was being pulled under by an almighty force. All this time, he has been under Caspian's rage, suffering in silence while his bastard father spreads havoc over Transylvania. Over-whelmed, the thought of being thrashed and unloved for a century was too much for her to bear. For the first time since her arrival, Rosalind burst out in body-rocking sobs.

Hearing her cry, Troy lowered the violin and bow and placed them on the floor. "Rosalind?" Rushing to her with panic growing, he knelt by her side.

She covered her face with her hands, trying in desperation to muffle her cries.

"What is wrong? Why are you crying?" Concern ebbed from Troy. He placed his hands on her arm and whispered. "Do not cry, please. No one will ever harm you if that is what you fear. Not even my father, this I swear to you."

She lowered her hands. Her face was wet with all the unshed tears she had been harboring for so long. "I am not crying about me," she said with a tremble in her tone.

"Then why? Tell me. Why are you sobbing as though your heart is going to break?"

"You," she fumbled out. "It is you."

Confusion slid over Troy's lovely face. "Me? But..I don't..." His eyes went wide when the thought of what they did must have upset her. "Was it what happened? I should not have –"