Chapter Text
The sound of Charlie and Vaggie’s voices were starting to fade and Anthony eased his foot back onto the step again, keeping an eye on the passageway they had meandered back down. They were sweet girls—appliances?—but they were a bit gullible. He couldn’t help but smile a little smugly to himself, trailing a hand up the stone railing and climbing the stairs with a bit more swagger now that he had tricked them into leaving him to explore on his own. He glanced further up to the darkened corridor to the right. So this part was supposed to be off limits to him, huh? Well, Anthony had never been very good about following rules. Especially now that he was being held in this place against his will.
He reached the landing, peering down the passage that led to the forbidden west wing. So far it looked a lot like every other part of the castle on the tour.
Too much space and no damn atmosphere.
Seriously, this was a castle. Surely they could class this place up a bit? Maybe ditch some of the morbid statues? He followed the length of the landing before it turned into a wide corridor leading further into the castle. That was where the similarities to the clean and orderly layout of the rest of the castle ended.
The rug that ran the length of the hall was covered in bits of debris, dust bunnies and dead leaves, bits of browned grass stalks were trodden into the fibers. Dull-colored threads were snagged and partially pulled free of the weave. Broken glass was scattered against the baseboard beneath one of the tall windows on the left end of the hallway, two of the panes broken out and letting in drafts of the early winter air. Wall sconces were devoid of candles and covered in cobwebs, melted wax of days gone by forever frozen in pale trails down the golden arms of the holders.
Anthony wrapped his arms around himself, his cheeky bravado slipping away the farther he moved down the neglected corridor. He passed his palms up and down his sleeves, trying to rub away the chill as he neared the broken window, glancing through the film of dirt to see more turrets and towers of the castle jutting up beyond the glass. It crowded the view, reminding him that this was all he was ever going to see so long as he was a prisoner here. The thought made him curse under his breath, turning from the window and shuffling further along. There were no portraits or tapestries, only a shattered mirror with its frame still hanging on the wall, his reflection making him look as if he had eight eyes staring back at him for a moment before he moved out of the reflection’s range.
There were open doors leading to darkened rooms, all of them looking like unused bedrooms with sheets covering the furniture. Everything seemed intact upon first glance but again, there were no portraits or paintings to give the rooms any personality. He moved out of the doorway of another bedroom when his eyes fell upon the last set in the hallway. The doors were massive, stretching nearly from floor to ceiling and clearly crafted from oak with a snarling lion’s head split in two as the handles. They were the only ones closed in the entire wing.
Anthony admired the golden lion, sparing a hand to trace the shape of its flowing mane with his finger. As he moved his hand, he noticed that there were scratches in the wood near the top of the head where fingers could slip in and pull on the handles. More of these scratches were on the edges of the wood, marring the opening a bit and even more trailed marks in four evenly spaced rows down the surface. Definitely claw marks.
Hooking his fingers over the risen lion’s mane, Anthony tugged on the doors. The right door swung forward while the left didn’t budge. He shifted his hold to the right door and eased it further open, cringing when a protesting squeal rose from the hinges. The door was so heavy he only gave himself enough room to stick his head inside first, leaning in to see if what he was opening up was worth looking into. Inside felt little better than the rest of the wing he had just walked through. Dark and devoid of life but this one was different. It was colder, mustier. There weren’t any white sheets covering the furniture but the dark shapes indicated the room was furnished. He tugged the door open a little more then slid through the opening, a hand lingering on the edge in case he lost his nerve.
It looked like another bedroom…or what was left of one. In the dark he made out the shapes of broken furniture that were standing on their last legs. A crooked armoire sagged into the wall, doors ripped off of their delicate hinges and drawers smashed on a soiled carpet of an indeterminate color. Feathers and scraps of fabric mingled together on the floor with splinters of wood and pieces of plaster, not a clear patch of foot space to be seen. Anthony had to pick and choose where he stepped for the sake of not making any noise as he explored the room. The last thing he needed was to be caught when his curiosity had already gotten him this far in.
A huge bed that Val could only dream of getting him into was in no better state than the rest of the furniture. It must have been a work of art once upon a time, probably a bitch to dust as well but it was still a shame to see the thing in shambles. The framework was snapped into pieces, headboard and footboard obliterated with claw marks, the center pitted with holes punctured deep into the feathered mattress. There were traces of bed drapes hanging limply from tarnished silver rings but most of them had been stripped away from the canopy, leaving only empty rings clinking softly on their lines in an unseen draft. The rest of the curtains as well as several other items were instead tossed into a corner of the chamber, amidst a pile of blankets, pillows and quilts, the center flattened out like something had been curling up there night after night.
Anthony eased past the makeshift bedding, touching the remaining rags of a curtain sadly draped down a warped bedpost when he noticed that there was something hanging on the wall near the headboard. It looked like a portrait that didn’t fare any better than the rest of the room. Like everything else, it too was slashed by claw marks but these were deeper. Angrier. Deep enough to carve into the back of the portrait’s frame. The eerie sight sent a shiver down his spine as he approached, squinting with his good eye at the mutilated face in the painting.
He could make out dark hair and one eye glaring out of the portrait between the cuts. Anthony eased a little closer. The gaze was sharp and warm, like whiskey. Pushing up one of the flaps of torn canvas with his fingertips, he tried to smooth another ripped portion of the face into place. The other eye appeared but the glare was no less intense than when it had just been the singular eye. He wanted to keep piecing it together, stepping closer to reach up with his other hand when there was a clatter somewhere behind him.
He jerked back from the portrait, turning towards the sound.
On the other side of the room were more drapes, heavy damask patterned in red and what must have been gold but now faded to a dull bronze color. He could hear more clacking in the room but it felt out of place. It sounded like hooves, hooves on stone. Curiosity peaking again, Anthony maneuvered past a desk that had lost two legs and was now sitting at a steep angle partially on the floor while the rest braced against its remaining legs. As he stepped around, his foot struck something in the dark, sending the item clattering onto the bare floor beyond the reach of the fraying carpet. It rolled over then settled on the stone at last, Anthony flinching back at the sight. It had been a bone! He looked down at his feet and saw more bones lying there. Animal bones. He grimaced at the sight of them, stepping over the remains and keeping his eyes on the drapes rather than risk seeing more carcasses.
The little hooves he heard before had gone silent beyond the drapes but there was a rosy glow mixing with a weak bit of light from what must have been a window. Brushing aside one of the curtains, there was an alcove set aprart from the rest of the bedroom that bore a wall of windows. Unlike the hall window he spotted before, multiple panes of glass were missing from these and a set of balcony doors stood wide open to the elements. In front of these windows, however, was what really made him stop and stare. There was a small table that had to be the only solid piece of furniture in the room and on top of it was a bell jar. Within the dome was a single rose casting a soft, pink glow from within its petals. The bloom was pristine, not a single bruise or dry spot on the petals, held up by a thick dark green stem that looked as fresh as if it had just been cut. The only tell that the rose was even wilting were the shriveled slips of petals scattered about the base of the flower.
Odd that this one table with a flower was the one thing in this room that hadn’t been destroyed.
He went to the table and leaned over the dome, peering through the glass every which way. This flower had to be enchanted too, He already figured out that the staff was under some sort of spell and maybe even the beast himself. You can’t have a glowing, floating flower be considered normal, especially in a place like this. By now his instincts were practically screaming at him not to mess with it but his curiosity gagged them in an instant.
Reaching out, Anthony picked up the bell jar and set it down on the floor. The rose continued to hover in place, not even a courtesy petal ruffle from the wind shamelessly blowing through the broken windows. The soft glow felt warm in comparison to the rest of the room. It invited him in. This was sweeter and fresher than any other rose he had seen but even as he looked upon the flower, he couldn’t help but feel like there was an underlying tension in the room. Like he was being watched. He shuddered under the figurative stare, glancing up at the windows to the balcony but couldn’t make out anything there. The rest of the room had been empty aside from the bones of the animal he had unfortunately stepped on.
His gaze settled over the bloom again and he reached out to touch it. What harm could one little poke do?
A shadow skittered across the far wall, catching Anthony’s eye.
He snatched his hand back with a gasp as he looked up towards the doors. A hulking shape filled the opening as the beast started to come inside from the balcony. At first he didn’t register that Anthony was even there when he stalked inside but the moment his eyes landed on him, they widened. He looked like he was more surprised than anything at first. His eyes bugging out a bit as he stared at him before they flicked to the exposed rose. The moment he saw the jar had been moved, his demeanor immediately shifted. The massive red brows streaking over his eyes knit together tightly and tilted down as his eyes narrowed. Anthony’s tension at being caught in the room slowly started to turn into a cold shiver that shook him from head to toe for a moment.
Well, this wasn’t good.
He tensely held his hands up to fend off some of that clearly building anger. He could get out of this, right? Anthony was a talker, surely he could smooth things over before something really bad happened.
He barely managed to get his hands higher than shoulder level before the beast was lunging forward. Anthony held back a scream when he held his hands over his face, bracing for impact but the heavy thud of the creature’s landing and the buffet of air from his wings felt too near and yet too far at the same time. He opened his eyes and saw the beast where he had landed beside the table, snatching up the bell jar and setting it over the flower. His claws clicked and scraped over the glass as he wrapped his arms around it, possessive, protective. Was he shielding it? Shielding it from Anthony?
“I told you not to come here!” He growled, ears flattening against his skull as he slowly turned his head to look at Anthony. His eyes were lighter, practically glowing as he spoke. The fierceness of his tone forced Anthony back a few steps from the table. “Did I fucking stutter?”
“Uh, sorry?” Anthony’s shoulders crept up, a little ashamed. It had been a long time since he had anything that intense directed at him. And it scared him! Where the hell were his words?
“Stay out of the West Wing. Stay. Out!” he repeated the words he said to him earlier that evening. His warning clearer than ever, even though it was too late now. The beast’s tail was whipping behind him, his fur was bristling and the feathers of his wings puffed up making him look even larger as he moved, putting himself between the table and Anthony.
“I’m sorry!” he said quickly, tripping a little on the animal bones again and catching himself on the toppled desk before he ate the dirty carpet. “I just wanted to have a look!”
“A look?” The beast’s claws sank into the curtain as he shoved it aside, Anthony could hear the tear of material as it was gripped tightly in the creature’s fist. “Do you have any idea what you could’ve done?!”
Anthony scrambled away from the desk as the beast ripped his claws free of the drape and knocked the already battered desk away, slamming it into the wall with a crash. He backed into the weary armoire, clutching at what solid wood his fingers could find. There wasn’t anything in this damn room that was intact enough to use as a weapon! He pressed himself harder into the wood, frozen with fear as the beast came closer. He snarled at Anthony, easing back on his hind legs as if he were preparing to—oh shit! Anthony cried out as he dove out of the way just as the beast lunged forward, knocking the armoire over. It groaned against the wall then fell over onto its side as the beast braced its claws on the top of it, lowering himself as if ready to pounce again. Anthony pushed himself up off of the floor and faced off against the beast once more.
“I wasn’t-“ he choked on the words, fear tightening its hold on his throat and he inwardly cursed at how scared he had suddenly become in the face of this creature’s fury.
“GET OUT!”
The beast shoved the armoire out of his way and Anthony didn’t waste time after that, whipping around, he ran for the door. At first he slammed into it and had to shove his weight into pushing the door open but he was soon flying from the room as the beast roared after him once more, screaming at him to get out again. Fucker didn’t have to tell him twice! He was already out of there!
He ran all the way out of the west wing, his instinct was all he had to carry him back to his room. Halfway through the castle, his fear started to prickle with anger of his own as he rushed through passages and around corners like the devil was at his heels. He was the one who had been made a prisoner here. He was the one who sacrificed everything for his only father figure that was worth a shit! Then this-this ungrateful fucker was going to scream at him over a flower? A fucking flower?!
He burst into his room, blind to the living objects that he had previously started to make nice with. Even the sweet little pink foot stool that he could have sworn oinked at him earlier was ignored when he reached the bed, snatching up his cloak where he had left it. In seconds he was already rushing right back out of there, deaf to the desperate voices crying after him. All he could hear was the rush of wind in his ears as he put his long legs to good use and ran like hell back to the grand staircase. He didn’t know how he didn’t slip or trip when he fled downstairs but he managed to even hurtle over the figures of Charlie and Vaggie where they were standing on the third to last step.
“Anthony?” Charlie called, confused and a little frantic.
“Where are you going?” Vaggie demanded but he was already halfway across the entrance hall.
“I’m not staying in here another second!” he shouted back over his shoulder, slamming into the front doors when he didn’t slow down fast enough. “Fuck!” he shouted in frustration, slamming his fist against the door before he managed to wrap his hands on the massive handle, more precious seconds slipping away from him as he tugged on it, wrenching it open. A gust of cold air greeted him, whistling in around him as he pulled his cloak on then darted outside. Charlie was calling after him, panicked and Vaggie was shouting something in Spanish but Anthony pulled the door shut after him with as much force as he could muster.
Outside the wind was wild, tearing at his hair and pulling at his cloak, refusing to let him find warmth in it as he sprang across the courtyard, trying to see through the haze of the falling snow where the stables lie. He slipped and tripped through the snow already piling on the grounds, arms out to try and keep himself balanced until he was at the stable door, rolling it open and ducking inside.
Even with the immediate threat of the wind and snow blocked out by the shelter of the stables, Anthony found no comfort in the separate building. He was still terrified, still shaking and he still felt eyes on him as he tried to catch his breath. The scent of straw and horse did nothing to ease his thundering heart and even though he didn’t run, he still strode quickly through the stable to find Dusty. The horse was calmly eating grain from a sack in his stall that Anthony didn’t remember giving him when he arrived, ears flicking toward him when he swung open the stall door and set to work getting his bridle back into place. His cold, frantic fingers slipped and fumbled on the buckles and straps and his agitation was clearly affecting the animal, who stomped his hooves nervously, the whites of his eyes flashing as he tried to get the bridle on a little too quickly, scaring him. He couldn’t calm Dusty down, couldn’t soothe him. He couldn’t even calm himself. He had to get out of there!
Dusty was restless now, his hooves stamping in the dirt as Anthony mounted him before he could dance too far away. He directed him out of the safety of his little box and towards the stable door and then gave a nudge with his heels. Not a kick, he wasn’t that big of a dick to start jabbing the poor animal in his own panic, but the insistant nudge was plenty to spur Dusty out of there. The moment they were out of the stables, the wind buffeted them, blowing snow under Anthony’s hood and whipping the horse’s mane about. He tucked himself closer to Dusty, riding him over the gateway bridge and out of the open gates that hadn’t moved since he first rode through them hours ago. Had it only been a few hours?
Fuck if it mattered!
The barren forest felt more welcoming than the massive castle he was leaving behind. The tall, dark trees welcomed him into their shadows, the white snow against the blackened trunks making each one stand out in the night. With no lantern and no moon or stars tonight, he was almost grateful for the snow even though it created as many hazards as it did aid. Dusty galloped onward into the wood, the winds that had plagued them slowly dying down and with it the last of the falling snow. The forest was growing quiet beyond the thundering of Dusty’s hooves and the pounding of Anthony’s own heart.
They were tearing up the path now, Anthony barely remembering the way they had even taken to get there in the first place. Dusty had been his guide then and he trusted him to do the same now but back then there hadn’t been any snow on the ground. If they got lost, whatever footprints they left behind were long covered up and he could only backtrack on their tracks in the freshly fallen snow. Well damn, he couldn’t catch a break, could he? He glanced back over his shoulder towards the castle. The trees had closed in, concealing it from view. Surely that meant the immediate danger was over now.
His grip barely loosened on the reigns when the first howl pierced through the night. Anthony gasped, flicking the reigns again and Dusty hurtled around another bend, Anthony searching for anything to mark where the hell he was and if the main road was getting any closer. Wolves, how the fuck did he forget about the wolves? The horse snorted and faltered, skittering to a stop and drawing his attention back to their path. He realized that Dusty had been startled by the sight of dozens of birds scattering from the ground and up into the trees, disturbed by the pounding of Dusty’s hooves. Anthony tried to relax his legs where they had clamped onto the saddle like a vice, knowing it wasn’t doing his horse any favors. Dusty sidled left and right, pulverizing the snow underfoot and snorting great clouds of hot air through his nostrils while Anthony tried to get his bearings on where they had ended up.
Growling caught his ear and he whipped his head around. Something stalked between the trees, a large shadow but nowhere near as large as the beast had been. This was much smaller but probably just as dangerous. More growls accompanied the first, figures moving just out of sight beyond the trunks of the trees. In the dark he couldn’t determine any markings on them, even against the white of the snow-covered ground these animals were nothing but blackened shapes. It was as if the shadows themselves had come alive.
“Shit!” he hissed between clenched teeth, maneuvering the horse back a few steps before he sent him off in the opposite direction just as the wolves sprang out of hiding to give chase.
The horse ran back in the opposite direction, Anthony trying to keep his mount ahead of the snarling animals now directly behind them. He barely felt in control of Dusty anymore, the animal running in whatever direction it felt was safest and he yelped as one of the wolves leapt up, snapping at his leg. Anthony steered Dusty closer to the trees just a little as he wriggled his foot out of the stirrup and kicked at the animal’s muzzle when it lunged again. The wolf stumbled, tripping and knocking into a tree before he lost sight of it, focusing on the more immediate threats surrounding him.
He wished he had a gun! Serves him right for listening to Pen and not getting one when he had the chance! A gun would have solved all his problems from the moment he found Pen locked up in a tower to now!
He caught sight of a clear break in the trees and guided Dusty towards it in hopes that they may have finally found the road. For a split second, he felt better about their direction but that sentiment was quickly doused the moment the horse crashed through what was apparently just a layer of snow and ice. The animal dropped like a stone into the frozen river and Anthony gasped at the rush of cold water seeping into his boots and through his trousers. It splashed up his torso beneath his cloak, Anthony nearly screaming at the cold bite of the water but he kept his grip on the reigns as Dusty frantically kicked, breaking through the thin layer of ice until he was propelling himself forward, eventually finding traction under his hooves. Dusty staggered up onto the bank, shakily walking forward a few steps before breaking into a gallop again, Anthony craning his head back to see that the wolves had barely been slowed down by the river. They merely ran along the unbroken ice.
“Damn it!” he urged Dusty to go faster, gripping the reigns in his fists. His wet trousers clung to his legs and his toes already felt numb when he tried curling them in his wet boots. All the while his cloak suctioned to him, sodden and useless aside from just being one more layer against the elements and himself.
He clung to the mount as they bounded over a fallen log and managed to get up a slight hill before the wolves were suddenly slipping back into sight but this time, they were in front! Anthony sharply pulled back on the reigns before Dusty could run right into their waiting jaws. The animal reared back onto its hind legs with a terrified whinney, the wolves immediately going for its legs and making the animal panic, jumping and kicking to fend off the attackers. Anthony could only hold on for so long before Dusty threw him out of the saddle.
Anthony fell to the ground hard, his body barely cushioned by the layers of snow. He didn’t have time to try and get his bearings, he forced himself upright, shaking snow from his hair and trying to see where the wolves were. They were still surrounding Dusty, snapping at the horse's legs. Dark shapes that closed in, snapping jaws at the vulnerable limbs of the animal even though he still kicked and danced out of their reach. Anthony hauled himself back onto his feet, his hand pressed into the snow and he felt the solid shape of a branch beneath his palm. He eagerly wrapped his fingers around it, pulling it free. It wasn’t a very solid stick but it would have to do!
Charging forward, he struck at the first wolf he could reach. The animal didn’t yelp when he hit it but it did fall back from the impact of the strike. He knocked another one upside the head with the branch, the wolf twisting around to face him and snapping its dark teeth at his improvised weapon. He tried to get closer to Dusty, realizing its reigns were tangled in the branches overhead. They weren’t going anywhere until he got those straps loose.
Another wolf leapt at him and he swung the branch wildly to fend it off. This lack of coordination resulted in the wolf catching the branch between its teeth. For a moment, Anthony tried to tug it out of the wolf’s mouth but it tugged back and the limb soon snapped in two. With his defense seriously downsized, another wolf sprang at him, knocking him back down again with a groan. He tried to find another branch, hands frantically digging into the snow around him as he tried to scoot back from the wolf approaching him. It braced itself for the leap and then it sprung forward and Anthony held up his arm to fend it off, his other hand still sweeping in the snow to find another branch. His heart leapt into his throat as the wolf nearly landed, teeth about to close onto his arm when it was suddenly snatched out of the air.
Anthony sat upright, agape at the sight of the beast from the castle flying in a sweeping arch overhead, the wolf in its claws as it roared into its face then threw the animal across the clearing as if it were a toy ball. With an agitated flap of his wings he landed in the snow over Anthony, looming over him with all four paws on the ground, eyes only on the shadowy wolves closing in on them. Anthony shrank down a little beneath him, his back brushing the warm, solid shape of one of the beast’s legs. Instinct was for him to wrap himself around that furry warmth and never move again but sense won out and he moved away from the limb, focusing on the stand-off between the creatures.
The beast moved first, diving for them in a spray of snow, his wings tucking in close to his body as he pounced upon one wolf, using his claws to force it into the ground. He lashed out with his other arm and knocked another into the trees but like all of the others Anthony had seen, this one seemed to vanish from sight the moment he tried to look at it for too long. More wolves piled onto the beast, snarling, biting and clawing. Even though he had tried to tuck his wings in, one of the wolves managed to get onto his back, biting at the base of one of the wings and digging its teeth in while using its back legs to start clawing at the feathers of the wing it currently latched on to. Crying out in pain, the beast tried to reach back for the animal but the wolf it had grounded previously sprang at his reaching arm. The wolf clamped onto his arm, earning a painful cry from the beast before he reared back and flung the wolf free from his limb. The wolf held on tight for as long as it could and Anthony cringed when he saw the teeth drag through the fur and flesh until the force of the swing broke it free and it flew off, bouncing a few times into the snow before it too disappeared. The beast then threw himself into the snow, rolling over the wolf that was on his back and it too was gone the moment he was on all fours again.
What the hell were those things?
Anthony crawled back towards Dusty, the wolves still occupied with the beast as he continued to fight them off. He shakily climbed to his feet, shaking snow off his hands before reaching to untangle the reigns from the branches above their heads. His fingers shook, chilled to the bone and made no better by the sheer terror he was in as he kept looking back at the wolves and the beast.
Grabbing a wolf by its neck, the beast threw it into a tree and it struck with a crack, bark raining down into the snow as the body of the animal dropped limply against one of the tree’s limbs then faded away in a wisp of smoke. The beast sank its claws into another wolf, pinning it down to the ground with a snarl and Anthony could have sworn the wolf was…smiling. It bared its shadowy teeth at the beast in an unnaturally wide grin before it faded away, leaving the beasts claws pressing into the snow. The remaining wolves vanished with the smiling one, Anthony gaping at the now empty clearing.
“What the hell?” Anthony huffed, one hand managing to free the reigns while his eyes darted around the trees, half expecting the wolves to come back again.
“That son of a—“ the beast growled to himself and Anthony jumped. He almost forgot that the beast could talk after hearing all of the animalistic sounds that had been coming out of his mouth. The beast was still on all fours where he had pinned down the last wolf, his body heaving with each labored breath. His wings drooped heavily down his body, trailing over the blood spattered snow as he managed a few steps in order to turn and face Anthony. He stared at him, his posture still rigid but his expression was weary. He heaved another breath, glancing down at his torn arm with a painful huff.
“Fuck…” He collapsed with a grunt, closing his eyes in exhaustion.
At the sight of the beast now lying still, Anthony turned to Dusty, hands shakily grasping at the saddle. The beast was down. Now was his chance to get out of there and go home! He could see Pen, he could get back to living his life, as unremarkable as it was in that god forsaken village. This bastard was going to hold him prisoner for the rest of his life! Let him rot in the snow for all he cared! He didn’t have to come out here and save him from the wolves—or whatever they were. He did that all on his own!
Anthony lifted his foot to slip into the stirrup but hesitated.
He didn’t have to save me.
He glanced back at the beast still lying motionless on the ground.
“You didn’t have to…” he murmured. “But you did.”