Chapter Text
Deep in the woods, down an overgrown and forgotten road, lies a castle. If you were to ask the surrounding towns and hamlets who their liege was, they would answer that they had none, they never had in fact, and they were lucky enough to govern themselves for the most part. In this castle lives a queen, forgotten and bitter, ruling over nothing but empty halls and bleak gardens. As an arrogant young woman, left to rule early by the untimely death of her father, she spurned an old hag who had come asking for shelter. Turning away her ugliness, declaring that such a visage had no place in the gilded halls of her palace, she watched awestruck as the hag morphed into an enchantress of such perfect and ethereal beauty the queen began to weep.
The queen begged for forgiveness on bended knee, but the sorceress looked down her nose at the gesture. She saw the queen for what she was: hardened, vain, cruel. So the sorceress cast her curse. The castle and its inhabitants would be forgotten by the world, left to rot for a century. If the queen could learn to love, truly love, and earn the love of another in return, the curse would be broken. So the servants all became avatars of their work, left sentient and mobile enough to keep things running. The queen was cursed with a twisted, dark visage to match the cruelty and malice hidden within.
Nearly nine feet tall with a shaggy coat of auburn fur, matching the hair of her human form. Her face was unrecognizable, like some cross between a cat and a goat, with rams horns curling over her ears. Her eyes, at least, were the same cool green they had always been, although as the years went on she became less thankful for the burden of knowing that what she saw in her reflection truly was her own face. She was broad at the shoulder and at the hip, with a feminine waist and figure, although the hugely muscular arms that came from helping to propel herself with her knuckles were new. She dressed mostly in masculine clothing now, her father’s old shirts and trousers altered to fit her frame. Of all of the changes this curse wrought, this she was the least upset over. Even as vain as she was, she had always hated gowns and preferred the elegant lines of men’s court dress. Having an excuse to don breeches and shirts was the only silver lining she could find.
It had been nearly ninety years since that night, and her time was growing slowly to a close. It had been three decades since a human had even set foot in her castle or on its grounds, and none of them could leave the bounds of their land. It had been years since she had even left the castle grounds and ventured out into the surrounding forest, still technically part of the estate. She’s walking the garden when the sound of muffled sobs near her rose bushes draw her attention. A human woman is huddled on the cold ground, the first frost taking hold and leaving nothing but freezing hard earth. Her face is in her hands, head bent and hair loose from its plait and curtaining her. When the human sniffles and wipes her cheeks, the queen gets her first look at you, eyes glassy with tears and face slack with grief. You’re still so beautiful, and she’s intent on wooing you to break this wretched curse.
~~~
You had never really fit in when it came to the other townsfolk of your small hamlet. You had your father, your horse, and your books, and that was enough for you. Well, mostly. It would have been plenty had it not been for the others in such close proximity. While it’s convenient to live within such close proximity to the market square, and therefore the book shop, you still feel incredibly out of place.
“Ah, my sweet lovely bride, there you are!” Oh, and there’s also Gerard, who you really wish had just died on the front lines at war instead of coming back lauded as a hero. Not only did this inflate his already massive ego, but the hero worship he received made him feel entitled to the attention and affection of any woman he so desired. It just so happened he desired you. You’ve lost count of the number of times you’ve spurned his advances, getting progressively sterner with each no you’re forced to give. You’d have thought after the first few times he’d move on to someone else in the village, but he seemed absolutely stuck on you.
The glares from other eligible women that come with the attention from Gerard make you even more reluctant to go into town. You had a hard enough time interacting with others out in the world without the constant heat of glares on the back of your skull. Honestly, you wish those glares really would set you on fire. Maybe then at least you’d be rid of Gerard, what with the disfiguring scars that would be the result. “I am not your bride, Gerard.” Your deadpan reply and flat stare do nothing to deter him.
Perhaps, if you were interested in him in the first place, his attention would be flattering. You cannot deny that he is an attractive man, tall and muscular with an angular face and masculine jaw. His clear blue eyes are cold though, and calculating. You want love, desire, passion, the things that your parents had in their marriage. He wants you because you’re beautiful, not because you’re you. “Come now, don’t be so difficult pet. What more could you want in a husband than myself? Rich, powerful, handsome.” The way he purrs the last word makes the two girls peeking out from the baker’s shop sigh and swoon. It just makes you sigh…in exasperation.
“I don’t know, Gerard. Love, respect, intelligence?” Your biting remark makes him scowl at you darkly, grabbing your jaw painfully with one of his large hands.
“Listen here, pet. You can refuse me now, but your father won’t be here to protect you forever. What then? We all know unmarried women of your station are worth less than nothing. Or do you want to wind up out on the street?” He shoves your face away like it burned him, scowling as he gruffly calls for his footman to follow him. You cup your tender chin and walk back home, foregoing a trip to the bookstore today as you had planned. You try hard not to let what Gerard said get under your skin, but it isn’t as though he’s wrong… Still, you have your father, and your home, and as long as you have that you have the hope that you can hold out for someone who will love you.
Returning to the little cottage you shared with you father you were immediately struck by how quiet it is. This is unusual, especially considering that at this time of day your father should be wrist deep in his latest noisy project, humming along to some internal song that only he can hear. Instead you find him slumped over the table, still breathing but not conscious. You’re rushing, and do what you can to make him comfortable on a pallet on the floor while you run out to get a doctor.
Sadly, along with the doctor you find Gerard, and he insists on coming along. A stroke is what the physician called it, and there was the possibility that your father would never wake. Gerard gave you a pitying look, but tried to twist it to his advantage. “See, pet? What are you going to do now? How will you care for him?” You kick him out with a teary glare, and the physician helps you get him situated into a cart in order for your father to be taken to the local clinic where he’d at least get round the clock care.
When you wake up the next morning, you’re worried. If nothing else, your father was at least cared for. There was enough money stashed to keep him at the clinic for months, but not much else. You’d get by on your stash of preserved food for a few weeks, but what would you do for money after that? It is with this thought on your mind that you pack a bag with enough to get you through the day and take off on your horse into the forest behind your village. Instead of taking the well worn road out to the larger village a few hours ride from here, you decide to take a detour down an overgrown path.
You remember walking this little road as a child, but cannot seem to remember where it leads. You stop for lunch at the side of a small stream, allowing your horse to graze and drink while you relax with your feet dipped into the cold water. When you mount back up the sun is well into the sky, although not quite at midday, and the air is warm enough that you can remove your cloak. The fresh cool air is nice, and you take your time following the path until it ends at a rusted wrought iron gate.
When you dismount and walk up to the gate, curious, something spooks your horse and sends her bolting back the way you came. You run after her for a while, but as the sun crests in the sky at its highest point you know that you’re going to have to find somewhere tonight to hunker down in order to make it back to town tomorrow. With any luck, your horse will have made her way back without you and she’ll be waiting when you return.
The walk back to the gates is long and by the time you reach them again the sun is dipping below the trees, casting long foreboding shadows. When you try the rusted gate it pops open with a groan that shakes your ribs, just enough for you to slip through. The walk from the gate is lined with beautiful and terrible statues, the lifelike marble women being embraced and devoured by demons. Gooseflesh raises on your arms, but it isn’t like you have much of an option anyway. You cannot be out in the forest at night without protection, and your cloak and bag are still draped over your mare’s saddle. Rubbing your arms for warmth you continue trekking up the path, although you’re distracted by a branch off of it that leads to a garden full of rose bushes surrounding a fountain. Sitting on the fountain’s edge you sigh, gazing at the blood-red roses peeking out from the verdant green.
You aren’t sure when you begin crying, but a chill wind cools the tracks of your tears along your cheeks. When you lift a hand to wipe them away, more come unbidden, until you’re heaving on the stone with great, body wracking sobs. It takes a few moments for you to calm, memories of your mother’s casket, covered in roses. Your father’s limp body slouched on your shared table. It would be so much easier if you could just disappear.
The crunch of gravel under heavy feet makes you startle, sniffling and trying to compose yourself before you call out. “H-hello? Is there someone there? I’m lost, and looking for a place to stay for the night.” You call out to the wind but hear nothing back, but you still follow the sound as best you can. There’s nothing there, although if you were a tracker you may have noticed the huge, clawed footprints disturbing the chilled grass. You follow the path back up to the huge castle, standing trembling in front of the giant wooden doors.
As soon as you place a hand on it, it opens as if by magic. “Hello? Is there anyone there?” The way your voice echoes around you is haunting, and you can almost feel the tingle of something otherworldly in your bones. “Hello? Please, if there’s someone here, I need help!” You shiver at the breeze that passes through the castle, but the murmur of voices and a faint flickering coming from down the long hall to the East seem to draw you in. “Hello! Please, I’m lost in the woods and need a place to stay for the evening, until I can find my way back in the light of day.”
The murmuring you thought you heard stops, but the faint flicker of a fireplace still glows in the distance, growing ever closer as your feet click solitary footfalls onto the marble floor. You enter what looks like a sitting room, with one huge fireplace along the back wall, two wing back chairs in front of it with a small side table between them. There’s a chaise perpendicular to the two chairs on one side, and a settee on the other with a huge black waistcoat draped over it. You marvel at the size of it, surely whatever man wore this must be the biggest person in the world. It looked to be in good condition, if a little frayed at the buttonholes, and importantly much like everything else in this castle it was without a speck of dust.
“So, you’ve decided to let yourself in then.” The voice makes you gasp, and as you turn to greet whoever owns that voice you stumble. Falling, you’re prepared to hit the unforgiving stone with your skirt-covered bottom but you’re surprised to feel a cushion beneath you instead. It’s an ottoman, a sentient ottoman, and it gives a rough bark like a dog before scurrying away with you firmly seated on its back. It settles down by the fire, with you still on it, and you’re frozen there with confusion. You look back over at the doorway, finding a hugely imposing figure standing there silhouetted in the darkness. “Has no one ever told you it is rude to impose yourself on others?”
The voice is somehow feminine, but that seems impossible considering the size of the figure before you. Surely they are at least as tall as the door frame, if not taller, and nearly as broad across. “I’m sorry to intrude, I was out for a ride when my horse bolted without me on her. There was no way for me to make it back to town before nightfall, and surely out there alone I would freeze to death. Please, I apologize for my rudeness, but I would appreciate a place to stay for the evening. I do not have much to give you, but I will do my best to repay you as you need.”
There’s a low growl from the shadow, and then a rough laugh. “A place to stay, hm? Are you sure you’re any safer in here than you are out there, girl?” The shadow steps out into the ring of light emanating from the fireplace and you gasp when you catch your first sight of the beast. Your heart is beating like a rabbit and your breath coming in fast gasps. The snarl and scowl on their face bares huge teeth at you, but their eyes are full of more fear and self loathing than they are burning hatred. Something about their eyes draws you in, there’s the same burning desire for love and acceptance deep in there that you can read much like your own. “Well? Nothing to say then? Too scared to run? To scream?” But you simply fix her with a shy smile, pulse still nervously flitting in your neck.
“I’m not going to run from you.” You aren’t prepared for how cute she looks as her face goes slack with confusion, like a lost puppy. “I just wasn’t expecting you, that’s all.”