Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

My room was dark, void of any sunlight managing to stir some remaining joy within the still air of the manor. The only light creeping in was that of the one that succeeded in breaking the barrier of the pall of clouds, almost as if separating the earth from the sight of heaven. The usual inactivity and silence were lifted by the wind that howled and sung and screamed; always beautiful and always harrowing. I felt as though, staring through the window, through the gloom of the storm, the wind may strip a tree of its bark, leaving it bare and unprotected to ants and other such creatures once the storm subsided. The whipping of branches and reeds felt so precise, as if the wind was sentient and conscious in and of itself.  It was a loud and intense summer storm that had brought such powerful winds. The dark ash-coloured clouds had been brewing in the skies since yesterday night, signalling the violent oncoming of such a storm. Before the storm, the air had hung thick from the heavens, which cast a certain lethargy upon most in the schloss, and turned breathing itself into an almost laborious task. I refused to dress as a lady would throughout the day, as my nightdress was already plastered to my insufferably damp skin, which even the refresh of a cold bath could not remedy; and so I had not left my room that day, so as not to repulse my father with my inadequate behaviour. I had ordered all meals to be sent up to my bedchamber, and had talked with no one, as I could not stand even myself, let alone the presence of another.

Just upon leading a debate with the window surrounding whether I should dress and go see father, Mademoiselle De Lafontaine entered. She was a fairly round, rosy cheeked woman, suited perfectly to looking like a healthy mother of multiple healthy children, especially due to her perceived age, however, much to everyone’s surprise upon meeting her, she has borne no infants. She is one of two governess’s who have cared for me. Madame Perrodon – a native of Berne - was the one that was taken to care for me as she would have her own child following my mother’s death. Mademoiselle De Lafontaine was simply a finishing governess, who, for some strange reason, was deathly set on teaching me French and all other things a lady should know so as to be fit for marriage. This did not please me.

“Mademoiselle, please tell me you shan’t be self-isolating as you did yesterday. This attempt at nunnery will not prevent you from being wed, I will warn you now.” she said sternly, already sliding open the dark oak doors of the cabinet*, pulling out a modest cream coloured gown.

As my face twisted into displeasure, I sat (rather harshly) onto my desk chair and turned it noisily away from her and replied, "I assure I had no such intentions as to convey anything of the sort.”

There was no more speaking while she rustled with the gown. She then told me to stand up so the servant may dress me. I did as instructed.

“Must marriage be the be all and end all of every conversation we have!” I grumbled into my hair in annoyance.

“I don’t understand what you mean.”

She was knelt down behind me, fiddling distractedly with a piece of lace at the back of my gown.

“Recently, all we ever talk about is men, men, men; marriage, marriage, marriage. Is the male race really so controversial that we have to talk about them, all. Of. The. Time!” I whined, drawing out the last word as to convey my irritation as clearly as possible.

“Laura, you have to understand that I am not forcing you into this out of my own will. It is simply how cultured women must act and you cannot change it.”

I sulked quietly while the final adjustments to my dress were made.

“we shall discuss it further, later over tea. If you so wish.” Said Lafontaine pointedly, as she walked towards the door. She swirled round to give me a stern look. “Oh, and breakfast is in the dining hall, you are not permitted to order it to your room.” And she turned through the doorway, heading down the corridor.

Reluctantly, I made my way down and sat at the dining table. There was quiet chatter among my father, Perrodon and Lafontaine. Their chatter seemed to fade into background noise, like the hammering of the rain outside, as my gaze was drawn in by such beauty that it was shocking she was a servant in the household.

She looked soft and well-fed, like any good natured woman does. She had long blonde hair, contained in a fluffy plait, that trailed down to the small of her back. Her skin was as fair as sunlight on a white parasol, but tinted with just enough pink to give her a look of longevity and life about her. I watched, mesmerised as she prepared plates, glasses and silverware for us on one of the side tables that accented the room. (The room itself was highly decorated, with black and golden detailing; various candles dotted around the room, all at different heights;  extravagant wooden carvings in everyday furnishings; an intricate silver chandelier which hung from the middle of the ceiling; paintings of women and men in great detail and grand tapestries of the finest needlepoint in the area (Which isn’t to say much, as the nearest inhabited village was approximately 7 leagues to the right and, and to the left, six leagues to General Spielsdorf’s abode.**) spanning the lengths of entire walls.) I watched as her hands moved, quick and precise, likely due to the amount of repetitions of this she had done. They looked soft.

An image of her cupping my face with her hands flashed into my mind. Her eyes looked loving and yet pitiful simultaneously. I watched her as she turned - her hair unplaited, loose in golden waves, some short hairs curling around her face, framing her features like a painting; it reminded me of a drawing of a goddess I once saw in a children’s book. And in her pale blue nightdress, she sat onto my bed, legs hanging off to the side, and patted the space next to her. Her eyelids drooped into slits, alluring and coy, baiting me to her. I suddenly noticed how full figured she was. She looked like she could crush me. A cold shiver ran down my spine but despite that I felt very unusually warm. As I began to walk towards her, I heard my father’s voice come from her mouth. And as quickly as the play-out came, it went, and I was back at the breakfast table.

The food came and went quickly. I ate quietly without much protest and, as soon as I was able to be dismissed, I was bounding up the stairs to one of multiple tea rooms. A moment to myself wasn’t a rarity in my life. I had been left quite solitary for most of my life, and did long for connection with another girl my age, but had never seen any girls or women, excluding fleeting moments In passing and my governesses. But lately, as opposed to the usual loneliness, I wished to remain alone. I presume the discussion of marriage has caused an aversion to any interactions that may spark discussion or garner attention to me. I wish to remain in the shadows until I am passed wedding age, so I can remain at the schloss, in peace, with my father. However… the discussion Mademoiselle De Lafontaine suggested seems fitting. If I am going to avoid marriage I must at least know what I am avoiding, after all.

As if summoned by my thoughts, Lafontaine appeared in the doorway, likely looking pleased she’d found me.

I sat down in one of the armchairs surrounding the low wooden table, as did she.

“would you like tea? Coffee? Or chocolate?” she asked me.

“tea”, she began to stand up, “-ah, but could you ask that the blonde maid be the one to serve us. I find her quite… pleasing…” I said, not as elegantly as I would have liked, the stark oddness of the request making light in my mind as Lafontaine gave me a puzzled look. To my relief, she obliged without questions, likely, I thought, deeming it a harmless request to fulfil.

Once she came back and sat down opposite me, the awareness of having to interact with her did not take shape until she cleared her throat.

“Are we going to speak?” she asked, not particularly bothered looking but more so curious.

“Yes, I-...” I said soon realising I didn’t remember what is was I wanted to ask.

“We were going to discuss your marriage…?”

“Oh! Yes! Of course, what I wanted to ask was; do I have to be married?”

“yes.”

“why?”

“in this world a woman must conform. If she does not do so, she will only be ostracised and made to suffer.”
“suffer, how?”

“Considering the fact you cannot own land, once your father sadly passes away, even though all assets and land automatically go to you, a man of law may very well try to take it away from you, leaving you with nothing. *** If you were to be married to a man however, the assets would belong to him, so you could still enjoy the schloss and all that comes with it.”
“couldn’t the man just sell it?”

“well yes-“

“so I am at a loss either way! Why, if I could be alone and in possession of my things, isn’t living that way and taking the chance better than being married to a man and still having the chance to have my possessions taken from me?”

“I would disagree-“

“you only disagree because you don’t have to listen to a man anymore because you’re widowed!”

Lafontaine pressed her lips together so they made a thin, straight line. She looked at me, blankly, as usual, never revealing what she may be thinking. She got up swiftly from her seat and left the room, almost crashing into the maid in the doorway, that had come to bring us tea. I met her eyes -a deep, comforting blue- but both of us quickly looked away.

“I-I’m very sorry, mademoiselle, please forgive my misconduct. It will not happen again.”

I said nothing for a good while.

As she was pouring me tea, I began, “Why is it rude for you to look me in the eye?” but against all efforts, my curiosity had come across as an arrogant test.

“B-because of course, you are more noble than I, and I must-

“No, no, I apologize. My question was phrased incorrectly. What I mean to say is, I do not understand why you must not look me in the eye. The rule is foolish and unnecessary, in my view.”

She made no effort to reply. I remain dissatisfied. I looked at the cup solemnly, and within my inner disquiet, made a decision.

“Will you not join me for tea?”

She looked up from near the doorway where she stood, quite shocked at my request. “I couldn’t possibly-

“Oh but I am not in the mood to drink my tea alone. With another it is more enjoyable.”

“But it’s not allowed! What if-

“Do not consider any possible scenarios in this situation. If my father were to see, I could coax him out of any discontent at my actions. You were simply following instructions.”

And with that, she quietly came and settled into the chair while I poured her tea.

“sugar?” I asked.

Chapter Text

I decided to enjoy a stroll on schloss grounds once sunset had come to an end and a contradictorily bright gloom had risen. The sky was clear, with only an occasional cloud obscuring the glow of the milky white moon and gleaming stars. The full moon was so bright that it was hard to believe the gleam on the droplets of water on the leaves of a potted plant weren’t caused by the sun herself. The light of the moon had cast a lunar hush across the landscape, providing a quiet that was unachievable during daytime.

All was quiet. The only sound to be heard was my gown dragging continuously behind me as I walked. It was a soft sound that matched the look of the slab path I was walking on, a sort of even and calming sound, like the rushing of water. The inky sky dotted with glittering stars was a sight to behold. Breath-taking and awe-inspiring. I could gaze into the endless stretch of space above me for what felt like nights on end, if it was not for the cold snap of wind air that bit at any exposed skin. I sluggishly drew myself from the bench I had sat down on, and in an unhurried manner, took my time, again, on a stroll back to inside the schloss.

I made sure to once again take in the divinely bewitching vistas that were now swimming in moonlight. It truly was exquisite, and I was longing to stay out a while longer, but was suddenly overcome by a strong feeling of unease. The silence was no longer relaxing, but a warning of a predatorial being calculating an attack. I quickly became clammy and restless. My neck was hot with anxiety as I tried to put on a show of looking calm as I increased pace while walking back. As I stepped into the proposed safety of the schloss, I felt an incomplete sense of relief; I was behind walls and, physically, I was protected, but the feeling that this being was ever watching did not subside.

I slowly walked back to my room, stroking my arms in an up-and-down motion, in an attempt to soothe myself. I felt lost in a shaky dream-like state. All the walls’ decorations looked vague and hazy.

At last, I got to my room and was caught by Madame Perrodon.

I had not even opened my mouth to greet her and she asked:

“what is the matter?”

The soft look she gave me made me feel like I was melting into the floor boards.

“Oh Madame!”, I cried, as I practically threw myself into her open arms, “ I was so scared outside. All the stars and sky and air were so relaxing, until I felt this overbearing feeling that some predator was watching me and getting ready to pounce for my neck! The deathly silence was… Horrible!” I proclaimed to her, my voice shaking.

“You are here now, child” she told me in a calm and even voice, as she stroked my hair, and I felt all my worries melt away, so immediately that it was as if she was angelic.

We talked for some time more. It immensely helped to soothe my discomfort, and all discomfort was promptly washed away after bathing, along with my bath water. It had warmed me into a drowsy state, perfect for slumbering and so I had gladly gotten into bed, under my quilt and furs, and before I could even think a thought, I was away with the clouds.

It looked to be the middle of the night when I awoke, as the moon was just past its peak in the sky and had taken on a blue tinge. The moonlight filtered softly through the window next to my bed, and bathed parts of the otherwise dark, spacious room in a cool light, that bounced off walls where there hung paintings and more tapestries (such are in abundance in this abode). I gazed at one of the tapestries depicting a girl and a boy, dressed in red and white, gone to fetch water from the well. I gazed at the girl’s brunette hair - not quite unlike mine, but a couple shades darker – which was plaited and pinned back up to create a clean, orderly look I had only ever seen in bread dough. The green of the forest behind them felt soothing on the eyes, despite all the colours having begun fading.

Just as I was about to step out of bed for a glass of water, my attention was at once arrested when I saw something dash across the room in my peripheral vision. I dared not move and stayed, as a statue would, in my bed, eyes pinging onto every space and surface in search of what I thought I had just seen. I felt as though my tongue had been replaced by my heart. I felt it’s drumming in my mouth and throat, ready to be swallowed whole. The silence dragged on as I sat, heavy headed, in bed. And there it was, it appeared before me, this beast like something I had never seen or heard of. It’s hair was long, black, thick and matted, with a twisted evil face that I only saw glimpses of behind the wall of fur like hair. I dare say it was bear like, hunched over as if stuck. It’s nails were long, jagged and winding; yellowing from dirt. It was dressed, shockingly like a human, in dirtied, torn up rags. All parts of this beast disgusted me, but it’s mouth was the gnarliest, most gruesome thing I had ever set eyes upon. It was down-turned in a permanent frown, with two needle like front teeth, rotted like the rest and It foamed at the edges of its cracked mouth. For a long few seconds, we stood, still as can be, fear likely emanating from me in thick waves, and it was almost as if the moon itself was holding its breath. It was only when I looked away from its face, when I saw something thick and red drip to the floor, that it attacked me. It jumped directly onto me from where it had been standing at the foot of my bed and held down both my shoulders with its grimy appendages as I kicked with all my might to try and wrangle myself free of its grip. I gave out a long, loud, piercing cry, and, shockingly, managed to slip away. I pounded across the room as quickly as my legs would let me, but was quickly disrupted when my foot caught on one of the fur rugs lining the floor of my room and I thudded abruptly onto it. To my horror the creature was now directly above me, standing at my feet, watching. I was immobilised by fear in front of it. Before I could attempt to turn and escape, it was upon me again and the pain begun to course through me, starting in my throat from where I saw blood spurting violently outwards, bathing the rugs and furs in a dark red. It was like a scene from a savage hunt; predator ripping apart prey with no thought other than lust for blood.

It was then I awoke, and screamed. I howled as heartily as I could, weeping in great sobs. Multiple maids and the night housekeeper rushed to my room and bounded in, likely thinking I was under attack, which I, still half asleep, believed that I was.

They all frantically made to soothe me. One asked if I would like tea, another offered warm milk, another to light a candle, another a book. I wept in response to all offers and considerations until father, Madame and Mademoiselle all came rushing in after, all still puffy eyed and in their nightclothes. I quickly jumped and wrapped my arms around madame and wailed “The beast! The beast! It got to me. It tore into my neck and- and-”

Another bout of wailing followed until madame hugged me tightly into her and went “shh, shh, shh. It was simply a dream. Simply a dream. Don’t you worry child. Look I will show you your neck is perfectly intact as it was when you went to bed.” She held me by both arms and looked into my eyes, and then asked one of the maids to bring a candle promptly. I was then, in my stupor, led to my mirror and shown by pure and clear candlelight that my neck, was indeed, completely fine. There was no sign that anything had broken the skin at all. I was then shuffled back to bed, and all commotions were taken back to each person’s bedchambers.

Confused as I was, it really was clear that I was alright. I swore it had felt so real and violent and painful that I felt as though it couldn’t have been a dream. Surely not. I had never dreamt something so violating and horrifying.

I did not sleep a wink the rest of the night.