stay.

Alexander, Duke of the Vale, stared after the enchanted carriage as it took the old man back to the city of Gloomwood. His lion esque tail swished in the snow irritably. He’d been leading such a… well, peaceful wasn’t the right word for his existence, but he had been left alone, and that had been enough. He flexed his claws and snorted. He had to attend to the girl.

What an odd creature she was. Offering to stay in place of her father, an old man who had already lived his life – she must have loved him very much. Xander snorted. Love. For him, no such thing existed.

He thought of the enchantress then, who he’d scorned all those years ago. She’d come to the castle as an elderly beggar on a night much like the last, asking for shelter, offering a rose for his troubles. He hadn’t seen through her guise. Xander thought the old woman ugly and poor, so he refused. The beggar transformed into a beautiful witch, and foolishly, Xander tried to apologize. For his indiscretion, the enchantress had changed him. Cursed him. The magical rose sat in the western wing of his castle, petals falling every now and then – the enchantress told him that when the last petal fell, if he could not love and be loved, he would remain a monster forever.

I’ve just repeated the past, haven’t I? Xander cursed himself then, kicking at the snow with a cloven hoof. Idiot! He turned to look up at his once beautiful castle. Pain twisted his heart. It was foolish to think the girl could love him now. But perhaps he could at least show her a Duke’s grace.

He returned to the holding cell, where the girl was staring impassively at a wall. “Millie? Is that your name?”

She glanced at him, her eyes puffy and red. “...Yes?”

“Come with me. I’ll show you your room.”

Millie tilted her head. “I thought…?”

After years of isolation, Xander had become a rather prickly fellow. “What? Would you rather stay here?” he snapped. He winced internally at his own sharp tone. “I… Come, now.”

Millie stood and dusted off her skirt, then wordlessly followed him.

He picked up her lantern and led her from the dingy cellar dungeon. 

—

The monster introduced himself as the Duke of the Vale, Alexander. He hardly looked at Millie as he walked her to what would be her new room. “Since you have to stay here,” he said flatly, “you may go where you wish. Except for the west wing. Do not set foot there.”

Since you have to stay here? Millie grumbled to herself. Only because you’re a jerk and keeping me here! Still, she thought being outwardly polite was her best chance at surviving – and possibly escaping. “I understand." Though she now wondered what was in the west wing that he wanted to hide… Did he string up people and eat them there? Perform demonic rituals? She shook her head to banish the thoughts. Stop that! Just because he’s a monster… Well… Hmm… Millie! Stop thinking such awful things!

She wondered how he came to be such a wretched creature. Part of her wanted to ask, but thought better of it – at least, for now. Maybe if she built some rapport with him? Now you’re being ridiculous. Stay out of his way if you want to live. 

The Duke – she figured she should get used to referring to him by his human title and name – opened a door for her, revealing a dusty bedroom. Except for being uninhabited for some time, the room was just fine. The bed had maroon sheets, and the curtains, pulled tightly over the windows, were the same color, though they had a cream white lace trim.

Millie kicked off her boots and examined the edges of her wool skirt. It was dirty and wet with snow.  “You should be able to find some more clothes to wear in these bedrooms,” the Duke said. "I'll have my servants find other clothes as well."

Because that’s just what I need – dusty, moth-eaten clothes! But the note about his servants was interesting… Though her nose twitched in annoyance, she forced her most polite tone. “Thanks.”

The devil-creature lingered in the doorway, watching her as she sat on the bed. “Dinner will be served soon.”

“I’m not hungry.” 

“You will eat with me.”

Millie couldn’t bear another moment being cordial to the monster.  “I said I’m not hungry!” 

The Duke’s nostrils flared. “Then starve until you come out!” He slammed the door shut.'

Millie finally let herself fall into sobs, becoming a heap of wet clothes and tears on the floor. 

—

Days passed, and Millie didn’t leave her room. Luckily, there was a bathroom with a working faucet so she could at least drink water. But her stomach had started to growl constantly, and she knew she had to eat something. 

As the days had gone by, she’d heard odd whispers and more monstrous footsteps in the hall. Did the Duke really have living servants? Were ghosts real and haunting the castle? After all she’d seen, she didn’t doubt it. 

She awoke one morning to a knock at her door, and the sound of the someone walking away. That’s odd. Millie climbed out of bed and tiptoed to the door, opening it carefully, seeing the Duke descending the stairs at the end of the hall. On the floor was a plate with a pastry, a glass of juice, and a note.

Millie took everything back into her room and set the food on the nightstand. She unfolded the note. In the beast’s best handwriting, it said, “I AM SORRY.”

The young woman raised the pastry to her nose and sniffed. Just cherry, as far as she could tell – no strange scents that might suggest poisoning. As if I’d know what poison smells like, she thought with a rueful chuckle. She took a bite, savoring the taste. Her stomach growled in appreciation.

With the Duke in a seemingly good mood, she dressed in some (surprisingly, not-moth ridden) clothes she found and decided to explore a bit of the castle. He had told her she could go wherever she wanted, right? 

Millie found an old study, filled with maps and multiple globes. What one person needed with several globes, she had no idea, but they were quite pretty. She tried to find all the faraway places she'd read about on them, and wondered if the Duke himself was well-read. He must be, right?

Some of the maps he possessed were older than her father. When she first heard the story, the women back in Gloomwood had said the curse befell the castle ten years prior; Millie had been ten years old then. How old was this Duke, exactly? Ugh, another grumpy old man for me to deal with!

"See!" a new male voice shouted. "I told you there was a pretty lass here!"

Must be some of the servants, Millie thought, her back turned to the open door. I should introduce myself. She turned around, only to find — two monsters looking at her? One was like a humanoid crow, with sunken eyes, protruding bones, and blackened feathers. The other looked somewhat similar to the Duke; he was tall, broad, and looked like a goat, with a massive set of curved horns. Millie was utterly dumbstruck for a brief moment as she sized up the beasts. After she came to her senses, she screamed, backing up into the wall. How could she get out of here?!

"He didn't warn her," the crowman said flatly.

"Would she have believed 'im?" the tall goat-like creature replied. "Sorry, lass. Didn't realize the dear Duke hadn't thought to mention us. That's Oliver; I'm Edward. At your service."

Millie shook her head. "I'm insane. I'm crazy. This is not happening. This —" She grabbed two fistfuls of her own hair, wrapped the locks over her eyes, and wailed. "Of course! Of course!" She sank to the floor and leaned against the wall. "I've gone insane! I hate this stupid castle! I hate it, hate it, hate it!"

The clomp-clomp-clomp of Edward's hooves drew near. The goatman stood five feet from her. He awkwardly reached out as if to help her up, but then stopped and retracted his massive hand. "I wish it weren't so," he murmured in a strangely comforting voice. "Unfortunately, the old wench cursed us, too."

"My head hurts," Millie mumbled.

"Aye, I imagine it does. Let's get you back to your room."

"No, no, no," the crowman, Oliver, said. "She hasn't eaten since she's been here. Her head hurts because she's starving! Off to the kitchen with you!"

Edward gently took Millie's arm and hoisted her up. Seeing little other choice, she allowed herself to be taken out of the room.

As the bizarre trio made their way downstairs, with Millie leaning on Oliver's shoulder, a bizarre quadrupedal animal approached. It was blue, and it had the general shape of a dog, but with red fins and a maw of shark teeth. "Good heavens! Was it you making all that ruckus, little lady?"

"Croup," Edward said, pointing at the bizarre dog. "He's about as pleasant as having croup, too."

"Ah, and speaking of health, here comes Thatherson." Oliver nodded to a bat-like creature who had poked his head out of a far door. "He's the castle doctor. If you ever feel ill, please let him know."

"Okay…" So Millie would be looked after by goats, dogs, crows, and bats. A veritable zoo this place was!

Thatherson tiptoed down the hall. "A party, I see," he noted in a pleasant voice.

"We're taking Millie to the kitchen since the Duke seems keen on starving her to death," Oliver explained as the party (as Thatherson had so eloquently put it) made their way to the kitchen. He shooed Millie into a wooden chair, and as if the scene could not be more ridiculous, began to cook while the others looked for ingredients.

"He did leave me a note and a pastry this morning."

The beastmen's heads all whipped around at once. "He did?!" Edward nearly shouted.

"What did it say? What did it say?" Croup barked, jumping from foot to foot.

"Um…" Millie stared at her hands. "It just said 'I'm sorry.'"

The men glanced at one another, then murmured approval. "Well, it's a start."

"A start? For what?"

"Well, for your life in the castle, of course!" Thatherson interjected, clasping his massive, clawed hands together.

Millie forced a smile. Though she was still weary and miserable, these beastmen being so normal made her feel a bit better. They reminded her of her dear father.

Papa… Millie's smiled faded. Oh, her poor Papa! How was he faring, all alone out there? Was he going to come look for her? Maybe he was gathering supplies, and he'd come back and save her. Why hadn't he come back yet? Millie shoved the thoughts away, but tears had already begun to form. She sniffled rather pitifully, and Thatherson handed her a clean tea towel.

"It'll be alright. The Duke's not so bad," the bat said in a gentle voice. "Once you get to know him…"

"I don't want to know him."

"Oh, miss, please give him a chance. He's… lonely. And I think you'd find his company enjoyable."

Maybe he shouldn't kidnap people and lock them in his house! Millie bit her tongue. These men had been nothing but kind to her; they didn't deserve her venom. As if the mention of his name summoned him, the Duke entered the kitchen. "What's going on in here?" he asked, though his tone held no malice, just curiosity.

"I'm making lunch for Millie," said Oliver.

"Ah, excellent. I was beginning to get hungry myself. Millie, come with me. If you gentlemen would bring out lunch to the dining room, you may join us when it's finished."

Millie sat rooted in her chair. "I…"

Croup nudged her legs with his snout, and reluctantly, she stood. The Duke offered his arm when she came within reach. Ugh. Is he serious? she thought bitterly. Still, she reminded herself that being affable was her ticket to staying alive. She placed her hand into the crook of his arm and allowed him to lead her to the dining room.

"You should be kinder to her, Your Grace," Oliver had said politely as he cut onions for the roast the night before. "She is in a difficult situation, after all." His sunken eyes caught Xander's, and he had added, "This may be your last chance."

My last chance, Xander now thought as he led Millie to the dining room, her delicate little hand curled over his bicep. The enchanted rose tucked away in the west wing was close to sealing his fate: two petals remained.

He pulled out a chair for her, and she sat down. The young lady's eyes darted around the room. Xander realized that perhaps he should have taken down the large number of taxidermy animal heads from the wall. But his family had all been hunters; the trophies were their pride and joy.

"So," he began, trying to remember how to speak to a normal person, "where are you from?"

"Gloomwood," Millie replied, folding her hands in her lap. "Lived there all my life."

"Family?"

"Just me and Papa." Millie's nose twitched. Her gaze had caught on a window, light peaking in between the deep green velvet curtain panels. For a moment, Xander's heart ached for her. Maybe he would show her one of the balconies? But then, she might get it in her head to escape. No, better to keep her inside.

"Are you… engaged? Married?" She was a pretty young lady, so surely she had a spouse. Right?

Millie's eyes narrowed at him. "Why?"

"I'm curious about you."

"Hmmph." She glanced away from him, back to the window. "No. To both."

"Why not?"

Millie sighed heavily, clearly becoming agitated with his pestering. "Just… haven't found the person," she said after a moment.

The two sat in awkward silence. Xander cleared his throat. "Did you… go outside your room much today?"

The young lady sighed again, but she turned to him, and in her most polite (but still rather annoyed) voice, replied, "Yes. I saw one room, a study, with a bunch of maps and globes." She paused. "I was wondering if they were all yours."

"A mix of mine, my father's, and my grandfather's. We've never been good at throwing things away."

A tiny, genuine smile tugged at the corners of Millie's lips in spite of herself. "Me neither. Papa is always telling me I have too much stuff. Too many books, especially, but I just can't get rid of them."

"Oh? You read?" Xander tilted his head, seeing an in to Millie's world. "I have a large library. I'd be glad to show you it after lunch."

Her prior cold attitude melted away. "A library! And a big one!" Her excitement was palpable: her eyes immediately lit up at the idea of being surrounded by thousands of books. "How many? All genres, or just a few? Are they all antiques or do you have newer editions, too? I'm—" She abruptly stiffened. Millie's cheeks flushed in clear embarrassment, and she stared down at her hands. "Oh, I'm sorry — I didn't mean to shout, I just —"

For the first time since they had met, Xander saw the Millie hiding beneath her poorly-built walls: passionate, intelligent, and kind. The light that glittered in her eyes just now… "Please, don't worry about it."

"Thanks, Your… My… Um… what do I call you? My Lord?"

Millie watched as Delia lit the cigarette she'd placed between her lips. Delia looked like a perfect marble statue in the bright moonlight. Her jet-black hair, shiny like an onyx, illuminated her battered-but-still-beautiful face. She'd changed out of her performance dress, into her mother's old outfit, and it hugged her muscular body so tightly. How would it feel to be held so close to Delia?

Millie's hand scooted closer to Delia's on the guardrail. She thought of her friend, standing on the Moth and Flame's stage, ringed in light, glowing like an angel, with the voice of one to boot. Her friend… oh, how she wantd so much more. But how could she tell her?

Their pinkies touched, and Delia glanced at her, but didn't move her hand away. "What's up?" she asked, smoke cascading around her face. "You've got a funny look on your face."

Millie blinked, her face uncomfortably warm. "Um…"

"C'mon, spit it out." Delia leaned closer, the embers of her cigarette a sparkle in her eyes. A tiny smile tugged at the corners of her mouth.

"It's…" Shit. Millie shook her head, as if it would help clear her mind. Instead, she felt more muddled. "It's nothing. You've got too much on your plate right now."

Delia's eyes remained fixed on her, and Millie felt her resolve withering. "I just… I was thinking to when I saw you perform, and how pretty you looked. And how when I got here and saw you all beat up in that bed, I was so worried I'd never get to hear you sing again." Millie stared straight ahead. Her throat felt tight, and her ribs ached from the hammering of her foolish little heart.

"Millie…" Delia turned to her, stepping closer, and Millie suddenly felt unbearably dizzy. "Do you have something you want to tell me?"

I love you, Millie thought, her ears ringing. But she couldn't speak.

"Well, I've got something I want to tell you," Delia said.

She'd never realized just how quick Delia was. In one graceful movement, she swept Millie up into her arms and — kissed her.

All the world went quiet. Millie's fingers curled around Delia's suspenders, as if to keep her standing. Delia's kiss was so gentle, and her arms so strong… is this what heaven was like, complete with her very own angel? Millie pressed herself against Delia's sturdy body, and fully surrendered herself to love.

"Don't go running off on me again, okay?" Millie managed to murmur when they broke the kiss for air. "I… I don't know if I could live without you, Del."

"I'll be careful."

"Promise?"

"I promise."

Millie stole one more kiss, tugging on Delia's suspenders so she leaned down once more. "I love you, Del."

Xander is still sleeping when Millie comes back to bed. He rolls over with a soft groan, the fine baby hairs on the nape of his neck exposed. They're strawberry blonde and impossibly fine, utterly precious. Millie crawls into bed behind him and kisses them, as gently as she can, so as not to wake him.

It's no use — he's such a light sleeper — but he chuckles quietly when he realizes what Millie's doing. "Mornin'," he mumbles, turning his head slightly.

"Good morning." Millie kisses across his shoulders, running her fingers over his bicep then down over his forearm. "Stay still. I'm busy."

"Doin' what?"

"Loving on you." She wraps her arms around him and lays back down. "I'm gonna be the big spoon for a bit, okay?"

"Mmm, alright."

Millie peppers kisses on his upper back and neck. "I love you," she whispers, squeezing him a little tighter.

"I love you too, sweet mousey."

Her heart melts. Sweet mousey, she thinks, savoring the sound of his voice. It's lower, with a thicker accent, when he's sleepy. Millie rests her cheek on his shoulder and breathes in deep. There's a faint touch of cologne still on his skin: black cardamom, cedarwood, and vanilla, he'd said. The mix of it with his natural scent and the lingering cigar smoke caught in his auburn hair is heaven. Home.

His once-sinewy body is a bit squishier now. Millie's insisted on fattening him up after the starvation in the city. Poor thing — you could see his ribs. Instinctively, her fingers curl over his ribs, and she's relieved to find a layer of fat covering them. He relaxes fully into her touch, already back asleep.