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La Belle et la Bête, Victorian Beauty and the Beast stories
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2020-12-17
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2021-10-24
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A Tale of the Shapeshifters

Summary:

{completed} A Beauty and the Beast retelling, with influences from the traditional BatB fairytale, Irish/Celtic mythology, and Disney's 1991 Beauty and the Beast. ~❦︎~ Athena Everleigh is a curious lass living in a village on the outskirts of Dublin, Ireland in 1905. Nearing her sixteenth birthday, she faces a choice: to either live the life her mother prepared for her, full of magic, forests, ancient tales, and shapeshifting—or to become the rising Dublin socialite her father wants her to be. It is not until she begins working in a castle for a mysterious man that the answer becomes clear. Several weeks go by, but the longer she works for him, the more she realizes he may not even be a man at all. It turns out, he has a past all his own. And it is up to Athena to unravel it.

Chapter 1: Part I - The Everleighs

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Athena Everleigh never once accorded with the social graces of her family in Dublin, nor did she want to. Although her prominent father, Mr. Everleigh, encouraged her as a child to move in with her aunt and cousins, she delightfully argued to remain with her mother—in a small rural town on the coast of Ireland.

The town itself was not so far removed from Dublin, but the residing commoners were. Mr. Everleigh had agreed to live there when arrested by the natural charms of his wife, Mrs. Everleigh—who declared never to move from her hometown. Although not as radiant as some other Englishwomen he had courted while in London, there was some mysterious and earth-like grace about Mrs. Everleigh that reeled him closer to her. 

Mr. Everleigh begged his London family to move to the small coastal town, as it apparently provided “fresh air” and “delightful countryside to gaze upon”. However, upon arrival, his sister, brother-in-law, nieces, and nephews, all decided to remain in the bustling city, what with its blossoming social sphere. Mr. Everleigh concurred, as he longed for Dublin, too. 

It was the talk of the small town when prized Isolde Ó'Broin became Isolde Byrne, then Mrs. Charles Everleigh. It was a pity for such a distinctly Irish lass to bear the name of an Englishwoman. A year later, more whispers arose when Mr. and Mrs. Everleigh revealed the name of their firstborn: Athena. As fond as Mr. Everleigh was of Greek and Roman mythology, his family in Dublin expected—though not altogether liked—the name Athena. But no one in the coastal town knew of his adoration of the Greek Goddess of wisdom and finesse during war; Mrs. Everleigh seemed to like whatever Mr. Everleigh liked. 

And it was partially due to this name—this odd, foreign-sounding name—that Athena did not belong in that coastal town of her mother’s family either. She was curious and observant because her mother took her for long walks outside—during which, she taught Athena about various types of flowers and their healing powers, as well as what each color of the sky meant. She was also keen and intelligent because her father taught her to read—unlike most children of the town.

The Everleighs continued to have more and more children—an even dispersal of boys and girls. Mr. Everleigh had wanted to give them more Greek and Roman names, but after observing how Athena had been bullied so by the other children of the town, decided against it. Instead, he gave them local names. 

There was nothing for Mr. Everleigh to do in town besides finding a trade. Of course, there were social gatherings, but not ones he wished to partake in, as they were entirely separate from the ones in London. And as the years dragged on, his wife grew colder and colder towards him—not that her beauty or charm had diminished but rather her fondness for him had, if there ever had been any fondness at all. Mr. Everleigh detested life and living alongside his wife. 

The only thing that gave him any rest of mind was knowing that his daughter, Miss Athena Everleigh, was growing to be a fine young lass. Never the most beautiful nor most popular girl of the town, but the brightest and certainly the most interesting. Boys danced with her not because they fancied her or wanted her for a wife, but because she would talk about the most intriguing and delightfully confusing things. Although she had been teased relentlessly as a young child, at one point in the prime of her girlhood, all townspeople ceased muttering about her oddness. They instead spoke of how one day a lad would fall madly in love with her and her not in love at all. Then debates would ensue as to whether she would turn him away or toy with him for years on end—almost as her mother had so many years ago with Mr. Everleigh.

But there was one key detail about Athena and her mother which no one in the small coastal town—not even Mr. Everleigh—knew about. There were skeptics, of course, but that was only because the Irish were once greatly superstitious people. And at the turn of the 20th century, the number of believers, skeptics, and traditional people began to be outnumbered by the people who had been given a new name.

Notes:

Please keep in mind that I am not a native Irish Gaelic speaker, nor do I live in Ireland. I have researched the Irish Gaelic language as well as the Dublin accent, but I am not fluent by any means. Moreover, this story is not meant to be 100% historically accurate but I do wish to respectfully and tastefully portray this culture and era. I do not mean in any way to disrespect the native culture of Ireland. Therefore, if you notice any major linguistic, cultural, or historical errors, please comment or send me a private message and I will fix them. Thank you. 

edit: This is just the first draft of the story and I plan on revising it to fix the dialogue/dialect issues present. Feel free to comment on them and suggest changes, but I do just want to make it clear that I will be revising once finished with the entire first draft of the novel to rewrite the major historical errors and dialect.

Chapter 2: Chapter I - Milly, the Cat

Chapter Text

“Oh, where is dat godforsaken cat when you need her?” the tavern keeper, Mrs. O’Dair shouted out, only to herself. “Milly! Milly!” She pushed a broom around the cellar of the tavern, whacking fat rats out of her way and straining her neck while looking for the conveniently missing cat. The old lady’s muscles began to ache and so she seated herself on the stairs leading down into the cellar, a bit weary from the strenuous activity. She could not see anything, save for beady red eyes every now and then. They would pop up, like fish popping up out of the sea on a cold, clear winter morning. It even smelled like the sea, like the boats in the harbor and the fishmongers selling their ware. Warring with those scents, the whole cellar reeked of rotten whiskey that had gone bad long ago, as well as table scraps left out for Milly. The cat would drag them back there, then leave them and the rats would come after them instead. But, then, Milly usually took care of the rats, too, so there’s that. 

Mrs. O’Dair heard the faint sound of Milly’s fleshy paw pads hitting the tavern floor. She turned and, to her delight, the sleek gray cat was there. “Now den, dey’re all yours, lass!” The tavern keeper picked herself up and let Milly slip past her skirts, making sure she left the door ajar so the cat could leave whenever she was finished rat hunting.

Several minutes later, after some nasty growls and triumphant meows, an eyeball peeped out from behind the door. It was silvery blue, like morning fog not letting go of the sky. Three fingers then latched onto the wooden doorframe. The hinges creaked, and the fingers and the eye escaped back to the darkness. 

Outside the cellar, the scent of steaming food and whiskey traveled through the air, replacing the foul smells of the inside. Mrs. O’Dair hummed to herself from the kitchen and pushed the broom. The people of the tavern chortled and used elaborate hand gestures to tell of their mucky, bloody fishing tales from the morning. Their fingers had mud and sea residue all over them, along with deep cuts and scars that glimmered in the light from the window. But the three fingers that reached through the door were clean as the rivulets passing through the forest. 

A white figure streaked through the back of the tavern—lightning streaking through the sky, leaving only light footprints. A dress lay at the end of the hallway, where no one stood. She breathed heavily, rustling to get the dress on as quickly as she could. Sweat poured off her neck and back. The beige-tinted dress fit loosely, without a corset. Underneath the dress was a black and red cloak. The figure slowed her breathing, covering her mouth with one hand to force herself to breathe through her nostrils. She whipped the cloak around herself then tucked her golden-brown hair beneath the fabric. 

Moving one step forward, the girl looked into the kitchen from behind the hall. She then peered into the tavern, where a slip of paper hung on its wall. In bold letters, it read:

 

WANTED - APPRENTICE AND HOUSEKEEPER

PAID IN GOLD

 

The girl slipped the hood of the cloak over her head, then snuck past Mrs. O’Dair and crept into the main hall of the tavern. She stayed close to the walls, keeping her head down low and walking at a brisk pace. Finally, she stretched her fingers to the tip-top of the slip of paper and began peeling it from the wall, when a man’s voice stopped her:

“I wouldn’t dare if I were you.” 

The whole tavern quieted.

She stood but a moment, her cloak facing the rest of the townspeople—then yanked the paper off the wall and bolted out the doors. 

“Oy! Where is she goin’!” several men shouted out. A few ran after her: the ones closest to the door. They asked the people in the street, “A moment ago, did you happen to see a young lass run out of here with a cloak about her shoulders?” 

“Ay!” a man replied. “Just now, I saw a young lass scuttle behind da tavern.”

Men and women alike gathered around the outside of the tavern to search for the mysterious creature, but when they finished scouting, the only things to be found were her clothes. 

“Do you believe she might have been—” an older woman trailed off.

“No one could’ve taken her garments off dat quickly unless dey were already loose,” several men agreed. “Besides, da letter’s gone, too.”

But no one saw enough of her to argue anything factual. After all, mysterious happenings in the town were a daily part of life—and had always been.

Chapter 3: Chapter II - A Father's Favorite

Chapter Text

“Ma! Ma!” 

Athena trotted through the tall grass, chasing after her mother. 

Once her daughter reached her, Mrs. Everleigh turned around, put a finger to the girl’s lips, and gave her a stern look.

Ma!” Athena attempted to say, prying her mother’s finger away from her mouth.

Mrs. Everleigh turned around again, facing the forest.

Athena let out a “Humph!” then stated, like a baby reading for the first time: “*Maidin mhaith a M'áthair.”

Mrs. Everleigh pirouetted and caught her daughter’s eyes, then said so sweetly it ought to have been a song: “There, that's all that had to be spoken, me lass.” 

Athena smiled, her cheeks turning to rosy red apples. 

“Now, what’s da story dis time?” Athena placed herself upon a nearby tree stump, then unruffled the wrinkles in her skirts. 

“Oh, Ma! Look what I found!” the girl handed her mother the slip of paper.

Mrs. Everleigh’s eyes traced over it for a few moments. “And what exactly do ya plan to do wit dis?” she queried.

“I plan to work, Ma! Think of it—all da gold in da world could be ours!” Athena squealed, kicking her feet through the grass in delight.

“Child, dere’s so much I still must teach you…”

“Ay, I know, Ma! But I think I’m old enough now and know enough about how to talk to people! I can do some simple housework. Why, I’ve been doin’ it me whole life!” she giggled. “And den an apprenticeship! I’ll be studyin’ under Sir Claudius!”

“Sir Claudius?” Mrs. Everleigh gasped.

“Ay, read da fine print.” The girl trailed her finger down the page until reaching the very bottom. In tiny script—much tinier than the bold lettering up top—it was signed:

 

Sir Claudius, of Beochaoineadh Castle

 

“No, me lass, I won’t allow it,” Mrs. Everleigh concluded, as firm as a businessman declining a deal.

“What!?” The girl almost began to sob, her voice quivering and her lip trembling.

“I won’t allow it. You haven’t enough years ta understand.” 

I do so!” Athena retorted, reaching for the letter. Her mother crumpled it up and put it in the hem of her dress. “Ma! I’m almost sixteen now! I should be allowed ta work for me livin’.”

“You already live a fine life, me lass. Your áthair makes sure of it.” She cupped the girl’s face. “I am content wit da life I lead, and you will learn to be content wit’ your own…. But I understand dat you are only tryin’ to help your family. You’ve benevolent intentions. Dat’s all any Mháthair could ask for.” Mrs. Everleigh wiped away the girl’s tears. “I must be off ta feed da little ones now.”

“Ay, I’m sorry, Ma.”

“You’re forgiven, me lass.” And so she went.

~❦︎~

The family sat around the fireside that night, as they did each evening after supper. Athena’s younger brothers and sisters sat nearer to their mother, while Athena perched at her father’s chair, letting him rub her head. He brushed his palm down her golden-brown waves for several minutes before she asked, “Father, won’t you read a story tonight?”

“Of course, my darling! But I’ve read all of them on the bookshelf already. Aren’t you bored with them?”

“No, Father, I could never bore of the stories.”

“Alright, darling.” He rose and traveled to the bookshelf near the fireside. Athena followed suit. She gazed over the bottom row and he the top, as he stood almost a head higher than her. 

Mrs. Everleigh said nothing, only watching out of the corner of her eye while perching on the settee across from the fireplace. 

“Now then, what about this one?” He lifted a blue book.

“No! We read dat one last week!”

That one, my dear, that one,” he corrected.

“That one,” she muttered, tracing her finger over the spines.

“What about this one?” he asked, his lips tilting upward into a tired smile. He held a reddish-brown book with the pages falling out. “One of your favorites when you were little.”

“No, I’m older now so I needn’t bother with it.”

He chuckled. “If you say so, my darling.”

“You shouldn’t let da lass say such things,” Mrs. Everleigh chimed in.

“Oh, but she’s almost sixteen now!” He picked her up and swung her around, as though she were still a wee child. “She’s almost sixteen and pretty as a rose! It is time she had new books anyway! No more childish fables. I knew that’s what you really wanted, Athena Darling.” He pinched her cheek.

“You always know what I want, Father,” she giggled. 

“Givin’ da lass what it is she wants t'will only spoil ‘er,” Mrs. Everleigh declared, louder this time and clenching her jaw tight. Her long brunette hair was in a braid as flat and clamped as her teeth.

Mr. Everleigh refused to listen. He only laughed alongside his favorite daughter—favorite child. They stayed up all night—him describing the plots and characters of some of the greatest literature ever written, and her picking out the ones she wanted. By the end of it, they had a list of novels he vowed to buy for her when he visited Dublin again. One by one, the other children went to bed, and eventually, Mrs. Everleigh did, too. It was then that Athena asked:

“Father?”

“Yes, my darling?”

“What would you think of it if…”

“If…?”

“If I began to work?”

“Work?” He laughed a deep belly laugh, throwing his head back. “Why would you work? It would only mar your pretty hands.”

She listened closely for her mother’s slow, sleeping breaths hailing from the master bedroom. Once she heard them, she whispered: “I thought it might help the family.” 

“Darling, there is no work around here worth enough money to ruin your girlhood forever. Once you start working in this town, you never stop.” He crossed his arms, lifted his head, and shut his eyes.

“But Father!” she urged, “he pays in gold.”

Mr. Everleigh remained still for several moments, then unraveled himself. “Gold, you say?”

“Yes, Father.”

His face lightened. The bags under his eyes almost seemed to disappear before he sunk back into the chair once more. “No, no, it is still not worth it, Athena Dear. You are too young and too precious to me. Marry a wealthy man instead, so you never work a day in your life.”

“But weren’t you once a wealthy man?”

He might have smiled. “Once.”

“What happened?”

“Let’s just say that wealth has a way of disappearing in this town.”

“Why's da'?”

“Athena, we must work on your pronunciation: that. And not ‘why's’ but ‘why is’.”

“That. Why.”

“Better. Oh, it just does. Especially when you’re married to her.” She gazed into his dead brown eyes. “So, my final answer is ‘no’. I won’t allow it.”

She pouted, “That’s just what Mother said.”

“What Mother said?” He bit his finger, eyes chasing around the room. He, too, began to listen for her deep breaths. “You already spoke to her about it?”

“Yes, Father.”

“And she said ‘no’?”

“Yes, Father.”

Mr. Everleigh huffed. “Well, then, I’m not quite sure of what to do.” He looked at the poor girl, who began to cry. “Oh, darling, Father’s here.” Athena nuzzled into his chest and blew her nose in his handkerchief. “Now, what is it that you want to do? Hopefully, you do not want to be a flower girl or costermonger. Although, those would likely be the cleanest jobs….” He sat in deep thought while stroking her hair.

“Oi—Oi had the paper…”

I, not oi.”

I had the paper that advertised it, but Mother took it from me. Although, I remember it just as it said: ‘Wanted—Apprentice and Housekeeper … Paid in gold … Sir Claudius, of Beochaoineadh Castle’.”

“Beochaoineadh Castle…” He scratched his chin, looking off in the distance. “I thought it abandoned, but perhaps not. Hmph.” 

“It’s not abandoned. I’ve heard people in town talking about it.”

“I’ve no doubt about that, my little adventurer.”

“And I want to work there as a housekeeper and apprentice.”

“Apprentice? Of what?”

“Whatever Sir Claudius teaches.”

“I must see to it that I meet this man—since my daughter will be working there.”

Athena perked. “Oh, Father, really?!”

“Of course, my darling.” She hugged him so tightly it almost strangled him. 

“Thank you, Father. Promise you’ll keep it a secret,” she whispered, her silvery blue eyes as large as the full moon.

“I promise, darling.”

Mr. Everleigh stroked his daughter’s hair for a few more minutes until her breathing slowed to be in rhythm with the cascading waves of the nearby coastline. He then carried the girl off to bed.

~❦︎~❦︎~

Maidin mhaith a M'áthair - Irish Gaelic for “Good morning, Mother”

Chapter 4: Chapter III - Beochaoineadh Castle

Chapter Text

Morning light never touched Mrs. Everleigh’s side of the bed lest it was made. Even before the birds began their twittering, she had already risen, candle in hand, headed her way out the door. It was a daily ritual—something she had done since her first footsteps, without shoes, without proper garments, and without hesitation. She traveled through her trail in the woods—several miles, her pace never surpassing a brisk trot—and always back in time to make breakfast. The only pride she ever carried was the mud stuck to the back of her heels. 

Not two minutes had Mrs. Everleigh been out of the house when a sleek gray cat sneaked into her room. She groomed herself—tufts of silk fur flew up into the air, bouncing around and around like flurries of pollen in spring. 

Mr. Everleigh sniffled.

The cat paused, batting her silvery blue eyes. One of her white paws hung in mid-air. Then he began to snore, and so she commenced grooming. 

Eventually, Mr. Everleigh’s snores fell out of rhythm. He took several short breaths between each one, almost heaving for air. During these breaths, his chin jolted up and his beard stuck straight out. The cat continued to watch, her eyes tracing each slight muscle movement. 

Only two or three minutes had passed and Mr. Everleigh began to have a coughing fit. He rolled over to the other side of the bed, groaning all the way. It frightened the cat so, and she dashed out of the room, claws scraping the floor. 

Mr. Everleigh shook awake, sneezing and coughing one right after the other. Athena heard him from the hallway. 

“Father?” she called, peering in through the doorway. 

He groaned into the pillow which caused feathers to fly out.

“Oh, Father, are you alright?” Athena came to his bedside.

Mr. Everleigh turned his head toward the girl, laying one swollen red eye on her. He then sucked in through his nose and heaved again. 

“Is it because of the spring blossoms?” she asked, rubbing the back of his hand. “Is there anything I can do for you?”

He tried to mutter something when one of Athena’s younger sisters entered the room. Rubbing her eyes and yawning, the little one spoke: “What’s wrong with Da?”

“Oh, he’s just a little tired is all, me little one. Go back to bed.”

“But it sounded like he was a-coughin’, Annie—”

“You’re just hearin’ things. Fetch me some water, won’t you? I’m thirsty.”

“Alright, Annie.” 

Athena listened until the toddler’s footsteps no longer could be heard. She then faced her father, who had fallen back asleep. 

“Father. Father!” She placed her hands on his back and shook him until he woke.

“What? What is it?” He sat straight up, his bloodshot eyes searching around the room. “Ach! Blasted headache!” 

Mr. Everleigh began to reach for his temples when Athena placed her hand in his. “Father.”

“What?” He stared at her for a few moments, until he realized who she was. “Athena!” he called and his face softened. The deep lines around his forehead and brows disappeared. “What is it, my daughter?”

“Today we are supposed to go to Beochaoineadh Castle, Father.”

“Oh, not today, my darling,” he said, placing himself back down in bed as though it were made of rotten, splintery wood. “Ah! Oh!” 

“But, Father! You promised!” Athena pouted. She climbed up next to the old man until her silvery blue eyes challenged his red-brown ones.

“Athena, my darling, Father is in pain.” His eyes bulged out first, then squeezed shut together while he rubbed his fingers over his lower back. 

“Hmph!” She climbed over to her mother’s side of the bed and rolled off. Her little sister waited at the door.

“Here, Annie.”

“Thank you, little one. When Ma comes home, tell her I’ve gone to town,” she whispered. The little girl nodded, so Athena took the pail and shooed her away. 

She came to her Father’s side.

“What is that, darling?” He tilted his head forward. 

“Water, freshly drawn.” She sloshed the liquid around in the pail a few times. 

“Oh, how marvelous of you! You are a kind and gentle one—” he reached for it, but she hid it behind her back.

“Only… only if you let me go today—by myself.” The girl stuck her nose in the air and shut her eyes, almost looking like a lady.

Mr. Everleigh sighed. “Now, darling, please don’t be this way. You know I do everything in the world for you. We shall go another day when I feel better.”

“But you promised today—”

“I know what I promised!” he shouted. The blood veins on his arms crept up and he stared at the ceiling.

Athena still held her ground, but the pail began to sink and her eyes moved to the floor. Mr. Everleigh braced himself for the tears, but there were none. 

Instead, she slammed the pail on the ground, took hold of her skirts, and twisted them into tight little balls, whispering, “If you do not let me go alone, I will tell Mother what you told me last night.”

And with that, Mr. Everleigh succumbed to not one, but two women of the household. 

~❦︎~

What brought awe to Athena’s eyes upon viewing Beochaoineadh Castle was not its size—for she had viewed greater architecture during trips to visit family in London—but rather its style. She had only ever seen it from a distance, on her way to the market, just as everyone else in the town had. But there were certain nuances about it that caught her attention when viewing it up close. The cold and bold bricks lining the outside told her to never return. There were even multiple fortresses surrounding the lower portions of the castle, as though guarding something. Of course, there were other castles like this in Ireland—she had seen them!—but they always looked to be in use. Vines twisted around Beochaoineadh Castle’s lower quarters, and there was a sharp cliff dropping off its backside, leading into the ocean. 

Athena had always loved the ocean. She had loved the sound of the waters slamming into cliffs as a little girl. But the water was so near and so loud that it pounded in her eardrums. She could not hear the birds singing or the wind rustling or the sounds of the nearby town. Beochaoineadh Castle drowned every feeling from her soul—every feeling except that which continued to propel her forward. 

Her shoes dug into the dark gravel, making a scratching sound. It looked like the gravel had never been walked on: there were no wheel marks, horse prints, or even footsteps to be found. She took the large door handle and lifted it, but the door opened on its own.

The black inside sucked the light from her face, feeding off her warmth. Her breath became mist that traveled beyond what she could see. She almost wanted to reach out and touch the blackness to test its thickness, but even without touching, she felt it enveloping her everywhere. 

The wind pushed Athena inside and the door closed behind her, ultimately enshrouding her in total darkness. She had not anticipated changing into a cat, especially upon greeting her future Master, but she had no other choice. The girl leaped into the air, in a diving position, then landed on her paws. Her dress fell into neat ruffles on the floor and her shoes lay right beside them. She would have to fetch them later. She sniffed around, searching for any kind of scent that wasn’t must or rotting stone. There. Her fur pricked up. Even in the dark, surrounded by dust-coated, ancient walls, she would always recognize that primal, earthy scent. It clogged her nostrils, fresh and alive. Fire. 

Athena sprinted, placing one paw in front of the other. The stone under her was so cold she must have been running on a frozen lake. She followed the scent of burning wood but, eventually, began following the feeling of warmth instead. Her ears perked. Almost there. Just a few more leaps. The stone beneath her paws became lighter in tone—the fire was near. 

Athena stopped, almost toppling over on herself. She felt a presence. Could it have been Sir Claudius? 

She sniffed and scouted the area, noticing bleak furniture in the corner of her eye. They led to another room. I must be in the Grand Hall now, and that room there must be where the flames are coming from, she thought. 

Pitter-pattering on over toward the light, Athena listened for breathing, for movement, for anything. She knew that someone was here, but who? And, where?

If only I could meow and get their attention! But that wouldn’t work because

“*Púca!” a man roared.

Athena reared at the dark and savage sound, her back arching and her fur sticking up as high as the rocky cliffs on the ocean shore. She sprinted all the way back through the grand hall to her clothes. Sprawling herself out on the ground, she transformed back into a human once again. She could no longer see but at least her bare body cooled down as she laid on the stone. 

Once her breathing became normal again, Athena rolled over and sat up. She began to put the dress over her head. “Agh…” she groaned upon putting her arm through the hole meant for her head. 

Eventually, the dress and shoes fit snug. She stood up and pushed what she believed to be the door when, like an orchestra’s crescendo suddenly being cut off, she stopped. 

Athena turned, walked forward a few steps, and squinted. 

“Cats may be better at the smellin’, but man’s better at the seein’,” she whispered to herself, giggling nervously. “That is, far…” she lifted up onto her tip-toes “far away.”

How did he know that I was a púca?

~❦︎~❦︎~

* Púca (Irish for spirit/ghost; plural púcaí) … is primarily a creature of Celtic folklore. Considered to be bringers both of good and bad fortune, they could help or hinder rural and marine communities. Púcaí can have dark or white fur or hair. The creatures were said to be shape-changers, which could take the appearance of horses, goats, cats, dogs, and hares. They may also take a human form, which includes various animal features, such as ears or a tail.

Chapter 5: Chapter IV - Isolde, the Fair Earth Maiden

Chapter Text

For your gentility, sensitivity, and kindness toward the land and all its creatures, we, the benevolent púcaí, have decided to grant you a unique gift.  

Isolde, the Fair Earth Maiden, your firstborn child will have the power to shape-shift, as we púcaí do. When she is of age, your child will choose whatever creature she desires, obtaining the power to shape-shift into that creature as she pleases. 

However, she will only retain this power if used for good. If used with malevolent intent, she will lose this power for the rest of her days in the mortal realm, and then she will live in the spirit realm as a malevolent púca for all time. 

Protect your daughter, Isolde. Teach her your ways. Keep it a secret amongst all men. This is a great honor, if used wisely.

   

She thought of the púcaí’s words as she walked.

She thought of how young she had been.

She thought of…

 

She once thought of him with ocean waves cascading on the shore of her heart, and now she thought of him with a heart all dried up.

 

“Oh, great púcaí,” she spoke in her native tongue of Gaelic, lifting her tall slender neck to the trees, “each day my daughter grows to be more and more malevolent.” The wind rustled in response. “I have tried to raise her to be kind and gentle—and sometimes she is—but she is becoming more and more like the man I once loved dearly, yet love no longer. He has spoiled the lass. And I notice new things about her—her contrary and manipulative ways.”

Isolde stroked a tree branch. “Púcaí, if there is anything you can do to help my family and me in this great time of sorrow, please, I beg of you, do.”

Chapter 6: Chapter V - Sir Claudius

Chapter Text

“No more púcaí,” Sir Claudius groaned, going to check and see if the spirit had gone from his dwelling. “I cannot stand them.” 

He ran his fingers through his long dark hair—uncut. It was all black save for a few gray streaks. The sound of his boots hitting the stone floors echoed throughout the halls and into the dungeons. 

“Púca! I know you are here!” he yelled in Irish Gaelige. “I can sense you. Either state your business, or leave!” 

He wandered around for a few more moments, his torch lighting up the Grand Hall. No one had been in there for years—the last person being his previous apprentice and housekeeper. Person, that is. 

“There is no use hiding from me, púca,” he declared. “You must be the same one that knocked over all of my potions the other week, is that so? That is what you must be hiding!” He swung his torch in all directions until—

Sir Claudius paused. He heard breathing. 

The torch hung in mid-air, sparks flying off before hitting the icy ground. They died on impact. 

He then crept toward the main entrance, cornering the fiendish púca. “You cannot escape me now…” His eyes began to glow, turning into balls of flame and locking on his target. 

Athena screamed. 

Sir Claudius doused the flames in his eyes. “My lass!” he called in English, sprinting to her side. “I am so sorry, my lass!” He grew stern all of a sudden, stiffening his back and standing up. “What are you doing here, so far from the village?”

“Sir Claudius?” Athena rose to her feet, but not daring to look into his eyes. 

“Yes, lass, I am Sir Claudius.”

She focused on his black boots. They were so dark they could have sunk into the floor and she would never have known. 

He tried to lift her head with his eyes, but could not. 

“Sir Claudius.” She hastily curtsied, as though compensating for her rather unruly state. 

He almost laughed and lifted a brow, cutting into his forehead. “Might I ask your name, lass?”

“Oh, of course!” The girl peeked into his face for a moment but immediately dropped her head again. Her scalp looked like golden rivers of fresh honey. “It’s Athena. Athena Everleigh.”

Sir Claudius’ brow fell and the flames from his torch sparked, snapping and crackling. He turned around and began pacing. 

“Is there a problem, Sir?”

“No, no, nothing. I suppose I—I have not heard a name like that in… many, many years.” He ran his free hand through his hair. There were long scars upon his fingers, not unlike the scars she had seen on fishermen’s hands. “Athena,” he whispered, feeling the name in his mouth—his back still toward the girl.

“Yes, Sir?” She stepped closer.

“Oh, no, not you.” He waved the back of his hand at her. 

“Well, Sir,” she spoke, taken aback, “I have come here for a reason.”

“And what would that be?” He turned to face the girl.

“Well, first, I—I…” She paused for a moment, her silvery blue eyes whirring about the room before focusing on Sir Claudius. She studied his torso. “Achoo!” 

He leaped backward.

“Oh, Sir, forgive me! I have awful allergies come springtime.” She grabbed her handkerchief and commenced wiping her nose, although nothing came out. 

“Yes, I see,” he said. “Hmm… you wouldn’t happen to be allergic to cats, too, now would you?”

She grinned. “Why, yes, that too! Might you have a cat?”

“I wish I didn’t.” 

Athena giggled, the apples of her cheeks ripening. 

Sir Claudius allowed a few of his teeth to show. “Now, why have you come here, Miss Everleigh? A young English lass in Ireland is something I wouldn’t have expected, but a young English lass in my castle… that is nearly impossible.”

“Oh, Sir, I am not English!” she laughed, looking into his eyes. “Well, partially, yes.” Athena twisted her brows and touched her index fingers together. “See, my father is an Englishman—born in London. He met my mother on a visit to Dublin one day... and two years later came I!”

“A hasty conclusion might I add.” Sir Claudius grinned but Athena’s eyes remained focused on the ground. He cleared his throat. “I digress. What is the reason for your coming, Miss Everleigh?”

She shifted her feet. “Sir Claudius, I have come for work. I found your advertisement while in town. You are still seeking an— a housekeeper, yes?

He shuddered, but not due to the castle’s chill. “Where are your parents?”

“My father did not feel well this morning. He had planned to come with me but—”

“And your mother?”

Athena’s stomach shot up into her throat. “Well, she—she goes on walks in the mornings and then must take care of the children. I am the eldest of eight.”

“Why aren’t you tending to the children, seeing as you’re the eldest?”

“Sir, please, I want to help support my family.”

He scratched his beard. “How old are you?”

She bit her lip. “Nearly sixteen, Sir.”

“So you are fifteen, then,” he spat. 

“Sir, I—”

”Yes, you are hired, Miss. Come back here by tomorrow at 9 a.m. Sharp.” He turned on his heels, the boots squeaking across the floor. His cape flapped, almost hitting her in the face. 

Athena Everleigh did not know whether to leap for joy, or to fall on the ground in tears. Everything about Sir Claudius was a sea of contradictions. Should I return? Does he know..?

Eventually, the girl rose and saw herself out the door. Once out of the castle’s sight, she transformed and headed home.

Chapter 7: Chapter VI - The Letter-Hoarding Dragon

Chapter Text

As Sir Claudius opened the letters, dusty windstorms hurled into his face and blew up into his nostrils. He coughed and hacked until reaching the one he wanted. It was the final letter in his treasure chest full of them—he had packed it so low so that he might never read it again, unless absolutely necessary. 

He moved his eyes straight to the date, not daring to read the letter’s contents. 

“The Seventh of June, 1885,” he muttered. His breath created a warm path that broke through the dusty air. 

Sir Claudius tossed the letter back into the chest, slammed down the top, and locked it in one deft motion. He tried to slow his breathing, but even after hundreds of years, he still had not mastered the art of human respiration. If only he had some flames to help him breathe. Ah, yes, nice hot flames. Flames. Fire! 

“Ay, old fool!” He smacked himself upon the forehead. “She’ll be here any minute… That is, if she comes at all.” His boots squeaked across the floor and his black locks trailed behind him until he reached the living area’s grand fireplace. After grabbing the old logs and launching them into the furnace, Sir Claudius inhaled through his nose. Nothing came out, except human air. “Come on, just a wee bit of flame today? I haven’t the time to make it ‘man’s way’,” he complained. “Come on, old friend!” He scratched his nose, stimulating the smoke.

Little trickles of smoke began to spiral out of his nostrils, and soon enough, out of his mouth, too. “Ah, there we go!” His eyes turned blue and yellow and red while his stomach filled, the familiar feel of flames burning his ribcage. Sparks shot all about his insides, bouncing off the walls and ready to be released. One final gasp, then the flames spewed out of his mouth, lighting the firewood. “See, it was not that bad, now was it?” He tapped his nose. “It is nearly 9 a.m., isn’t it?” he asked the dead, thin air. Sir Claudius shrugged then glanced at the Grandfather clock next to the fireplace. It read: 11 p.m. “Oh, but you haven’t cooed in years. I’d forgotten.” With that, the man dismissed the clock and headed toward the main entryway. 

It was utterly dark save for the slivers of light coming from under the large doors as well as what little flare could be seen from the far-away fireplace. How the girl ever managed to get in the main doors without screaming and running off baffled him. Were the doors even locked? he pondered. The previous housekeepers always locked the doors, but Sir Claudius had done it not even once.

He laughed at his own foolishness. The sound echoed for a while, then a dear and intimate silence swaddled him up like a newborn baby. It was a silence that had been at his side, unbeknownst, for twenty years.

The silence soon passed, and Sir Claudius thought he heard footsteps falling on pebbles. He grasped onto the door handles and reared back, the muscles on his arms protruding. Light tore into his pale eyes, and not light from fireplace flames—not safe warm reds tinged with blues. It was a light he had not seen in some odd year. 

Athena Everleigh sang to herself, a song about early morning dew, as she trotted down the walkway. When her eyes caught him, the song ended abruptly upon her tongue. “Good morning, Sir Claudius.”

“Good morning, Miss Everleigh.” 

Without even summoning them, Sir Claudius felt flames licking his ribcage when he looked at her. He doused the flames, though. She was not pale, as he was. She had freckles circling her scarlet apples and they spilled down from there and made a home on her neck and chest. 

Athena had only seen flashes of him, bathed in red and black—black cloak and black hair and black boots, and red torch and red undershirt and red… eyes. But here, he was not red and black. In the sun, his skin was almost the color of her eyes. She looked closer, scouring over his form until reaching his eyes which she expected to be balls of flame but instead matched hers of silvery-blue. In the dark, Sir Claudius was a flame, but in the sun, he was a snowflake. 

He squinted, and so she hurried until in the arms of darkness once again. “Sir Claudius, I cannot see,” she spoke, as soft as a kitten. 

“Ach!” He smacked himself on the forehead. “Come, let us sit by the fireside and discuss your duties.” He led her to the fireplace of the Grand Hall. 

Sir Claudius took his seat in a large, lavish, although musty, chair. It obtained red and gold embroidery of what she thought to be snakes. He motioned for her to sit opposite of him, in a chair that would have been comfortable if it had been plumped and dusted properly—which it certainly was not at the moment. 

“I expect that you’ve done housework before, yes?”

“Yes, Sir, I’ve cleaned my own house for years.”

“Very well, then you know how to dust and sweep and make the beds?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“You know how to set the table and clean the shutters and light a fire and draw water from the well?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“I also expect you to take trips for me to the village, and Dublin, too, when you can.”

“Yes, Sir.” 

He scratched his beard. “I once had stables but they have not been tended to in a few years. I’m sure the horses have all passed on—”

Athena gasped, covering her strawberry mouth with her freckled hand. 

“So there will be no need for you to tend to them.” 

“Yes… Sir Claudius,” she whispered. “Were there no stableboys?” 

“No, I’m afraid not,” he said, staring into the fire.

She said nothing more, but rather, stared into the fire, too. 

“I don’t expect you to do anything on the grounds much, besides drawing water,” he told her. 

“Well, I do love tending to gardens,” she said. “Wouldn’t you like fresh vegetables, Sir? I would be happy to plant one, although since it’s well into spring, I wouldn’t be able to plant much.” 

“Whatever you wish. My other… housekeepers typically bought vegetables from the costermongers with the money I gave them.”

Athena perked, drawing her eyes away from the fire. 

“And that is likely why you’re here,” he said. “‘Paid in gold’?”

“Ay…” she paused to clear her throat, thinking. “Sir, I only wanted… I only wanted to work to provide for my family, as I said yesterday. I will take whatever you wish to offer.”

“I see.” The coldest words he could have said. Athena’s head drooped to the floor. “Then I will pay whatever you wish to have.” 

“Oh, oh, sir!” she spoke, smiling and looking into his eyes. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” The flames in his stomach tickled him, so much so he couldn’t help but grin, too. 

~❦︎~

“You—you wouldn’t mind if I opened the shutters, now would you?!” Athena called, yanking at the tall, maroon drapes. She heaved and heaved but still, they would not come apart.

“Oh, Miss Everleigh!” Sir Claudius dropped his journal and pen and rushed to her side. “Let me help you.” 

He grabbed onto the fabric, and she caught a glimpse of his large muscles protruding from his pale skin, before latching onto them herself. They both pulled together until finally the shutters came apart and light filtered in through the castle. 

“My goodness! How long have they been shut?” She dusted off her dress and turned to look at Sir Claudius. He was staring at her. 

“I’m not sure, Miss Everleigh,” he mumbled, his bluish-pink lips hardly moving at all. 

“Oh, well, I’m sure it’s been quite some time,” she laughed.

“Yes, quite some time.” He returned to his study. “Oh, my, I’ve forgotten to put the date on this journal entry!” he complained.

“Well, it’s the 10th of April, Sir. Does that help?” She giggled as she dusted the shutters. 

“Yes, thank you!” He wrote it down hastily before pausing again. “Say, Miss Everleigh, it seems I’ve forgotten the year, too. Each time a new year begins, I always want to write down the previous one. I never write the actual year. A nasty habit I have, I suppose you could say. Now, what is it: 1889 or 1890?”

Athena stopped her dusting and left her hand in the middle of the window, which caused a great shadow to form over the Grand Hall. She breathed in the cold air. “Sir, it’s 1905.” 

He laughed—a deep bellow. “Now Miss Everleigh, you must be teasing me. It can’t have been that long ago—”

“What couldn’t have been that long ago?” she queried, cocking her head.

Sir Claudius bit the top of his pen. “Nothing...” he trailed off.

She began dusting again, slower this time. “Sir… The year is 1905.”

“I know,” he spoke, his voice as grave and chilled as the dungeons below the castle. “Twenty years….”

Chapter 8: Chapter VII - Mother Earth, Father Time

Chapter Text

Two weeks passed of Athena waiting for her mother to disappear into the forestthen bribing one of the older children to care for the rest of the bunch, and finally convincing her little sister she was headed to the market before venturing to Beochaoineadh Castle with her father. Mr. Everleigh had given up on meeting Sir Claudius, as the girl insisted on parting ways at the castle’s pebbled driveway. Even if Mr. Everleigh wanted to go inside the castle to speak with the man, he had to work for his family, going straight to selling his wares on the streets. All that mattered to him was that his daughter was still just as beautiful as the day she began working and that she brought home gold coins at the end of each week. 

But beauty and gold can’t keep secrets forever. 

Athena snuck in through the back door, in cat form, skirting past her mother who sat knitting clothes for the children. She made headway for the bedroom when Mrs. Everleigh called, “*Iníon!”

Her ears drooped. Athena leaped into the air, lifted her forearms, and tucked her hind legs. 

“Lass, you shouldn’t be doin’ that here,” Mrs. Everleigh whispered—fierce, her eyes turning the color of the fireside.

“Ay, Ma, I just—”

“Where did ya leave your dress and shoes?”

Athena stared at the floorboards.

“Speak up.”

“Outside da window of my bedroom.”

“Why are dey dere?”

“I was tryin’ ta come in through da window but ‘twas locked. I had been draggin’ me clothes back from town and left ‘em dere.” She turned. “I’ll go get—”

“No, we’ve other things ta discuss.”

Athena pulled her hair over to one side and dragged her feet across the floorboards. She grabbed a blanket from the settee to cover herself. 

“Why were ya out so late, me lass?” Mrs. Everleigh looked her daughter in the eye. “You’ve never been to da market dis late at night. Besides, we’ve food aplenty from your other visits dis week.” 

“I only wanted ta take an evenin’ stroll, Ma.” She rubbed her bare arms. 

Mrs. Everleigh’s eyes moved back to her knitting. She was making a light blue dress, high at the collar and frilled out at the bottom with strawberry buttons. Athena knew it was hers not by the size but the color. Mrs. Everleigh took a slow breath in yet quickly let it out. It was the loudest sound in the room on that quiet night. 

“Ma, you must believe me.”

Mrs. Everleigh grew cold. “I don’t know what ta believe anymore. You’re gone every day and never do what I ask of you. None of the chores. You don’t take care of da children while I’m gone. ‘Tis your responsibility as the elder sister and you have done none of it for da past two weeks.”

Athena’s eyes bulged with tears but she drew them back in.

“But, you can prove ta me that you’re still benevolent if you do what I ask.”

The girl lifted her head, her watery eyes catching the firelight. “What’s that, Ma? I’ll do anything, I promise.” 

“Tomorrow, you must care for da children while I’m gone. Den, after breakfast, you will teach your youngest sister to use da washboard.” 

Athena caught a lump in her throat. “Yes… Ma.” She shivered.

Mrs. Everleigh put down her knitting to look at her daughter. “You know I only ask dis of you because I want you ta grow ta be a gentle and benevolent soul. You have a unique gift, iníon. I know da tricks you play on your father.”

Athena stiffened. 

“I’ve known for a while now. You must not use your gift in such a way. All I want ta know is why you did it.”

Athena’s eyes darted across the room. “I—I don’t know, Ma.” The tears she had been holding back came out in floods, streaking across the ground.

“Me lass, it’s alright.” Mrs. Everleigh came nearer to her daughter and wiped away her tears. “You are so young and ‘tis alright to make mistakes.”

“I didn’t mean to hurt him, Ma…”

“You didn’t, me lass. But he wasn’t able to work for several days, you know dat.”

“Yes, Ma,” she sniveled. “I’m sorry.”

“But why did you do it?” Mrs. Everleigh lifted the girl’s chin, but Athena wouldn’t look at her.

“I wanted—I wanted ta go out by meself. I didn’t want ta have ta wait for him ta escort me ta town every day. I love walkin’ with him, Ma, but I—was ready ta go on me own.” Athena covered her eyes with the blanket.

“Ah, I see,” Mrs. Everleigh spoke, understanding. “You’ve always been a fiery lass in dat way.” Athena lifted her head and smiled the slightest bit. “I am not fiery like you are, iníon. I don’t know where you got it from.” They both giggled. “Perhaps it’s da cat in ya. I should’ve known you’d want ta go out on your own.”

“Oh, Ma, thanks for understandin’!” Athena hugged her mother. “So, you’ll let me go den? Out to town by myself?!”

Mrs. Everleigh shook her head. “You may be Milly half da time, but the other half, you’re me daughter. You still have your duties about da house. You’ve got your brothers and sisters ta look after, too.” Athena sunk into the couch. “I know you lean toward your áthair because you are his prize, but my daughter, I know who you are. I know you more dan your áthair does.”

Athena stared into the flames, chills running over her body. 

“Da spirits of da earth connect us, iníon. Dey look after us. Dat is something dat your áthair will never understand.” Mrs. Everleigh pressed her lips upon her daughter’s forehead. “From now on, you will do your duties around da house half da week, den da other, you may go explorin’.” A thin smile spread across Athena’s lips, but she didn’t look into her mother’s eyes. “I must finish me knittin’ now. You go on ta bed.”

Athena rose from the settee and wrapped the blanket around her like a nightgown. She headed toward the bedroom, laid one of her palms down on the doorframe, then turned her head to face her mother. “Ma?”

“Yes, me lass?” 

“I will do what you asked of me tomorrow, I promise.”

Mrs. Everleigh’s smile flashed brightly in the firelight. “Dat’s a good lass. Now get on to bed.” She shooed the girl off with one of her knitting needles.

Athena grinned with the same thin smile. “Yes, Ma.”

~❦︎~

Mr. Everleigh awoke with a sharp inhale through the nose. He spread his arms out to the side, like a bird opening its wings for the first time in the morning. Today is going to be a good day, he said to himself. With his wife out in the forest, Athena off making money, and the children still asleep, life was good. The birds twittered outside the window, singing to him. 

He threw one leg off the bed, then the other, and slid into his slippers. Rubbing his eyes and scratching his beard, the man walked out of his room. Light bolted in through the windows, grasping the brown, dusty kitchen. All the pots and pans were tucked in nice and neat in the cupboards, waiting for his wife to wake them up. Mr. Everleigh could hear the children’s gentle breaths hailing from their rooms. 

“Ach!” He popped his back, then searched for the nearest place to sit. His eyes landed on the dining table and so he plopped down into one of the old wooden chairs, not caring if it were his seat or not. “That’s a little better,” he groaned, his face still twisted and tense. Mr. Everleigh glanced about the room, noticing familiar golden-brown waves. 

“Athena!” he called, rising and rushing to her side—all the while rubbing his lower back. “My girl, you blend in with the living room. I didn’t even notice you were here!” 

“Yes, Father, I’ve been here,” the girl muttered, not even moving her mouth. He sat down in the seat across from her nearest the fireplace. 

“What is wrong, my darling? Why haven’t you gone to your work?” The wrinkles around his face loosened as his daughter began to cry. “Oh, Athena, please tell Father. You know I’d do anything in the world to make you happy.” He scooted the chair closer to her, wood against wood, so he could hold her hand. The screech likely woke the other children, not that they mattered. 

She wiped a tear away. “Mother told me not to go…”

“How did that ole wench find out!?” he shouted.

“I don’t think she knows about Sir Claudius, Father, but she doesn’t like that I’ve been spending all of me days ‘in town’.”

“Ah,” his eyes softened, “I see.” Athena had a handkerchief in her lap. Her silvery blue eyes were encircled with red, and her cheeks were puffy—not rosy. 

“What then did she tell you?”

“She told me I could only go out a few times a week—not every day. The rest of the days I must stay here and help her with the house and children while you're gone to work.”

Mr. Everleigh let go of his daughter’s hand, grimacing. He stared out the window and flared his nostrils, while his face turned just as fiery red as Athena’s. 

“So that means you won’t be getting paid as much as you have these past couple weeks.”

“Yes, Father… That is, if Sir Claudius still decides to pay me.”

“Well, he’s got to! You’ve got to get dressed and go there now and tell him!” He shooed her away.

“But Mother will be back here any minute now,” Athena protested, though softly. 

Mr. Everleigh gazed at the pollen falling out of the sky. The sunlight changed his coloration into a bright, burnt orange and turned his face shape into that of a decrepit potato. A frown seeped into his wrinkles—wrinkles from years of waking up and going to work without a will. 

“That gold,” he said, feeling the coins in his hand but only grasping air, “is the most important thing you will ever make.” He rose and went to the window. “If you have gold, we, your family, won’t have to work as hard as we do now.”

Athena lifted her head. “I know, Father, that’s why I wanted to—”

“This gold, it’s a precious thing,” he spoke, shutting his ears. “I know that. We know that, you and I. And do you know why we know that?”

Athena shook her head.

“Because we’re people of the future.” 

The girl opened her eyes, her tears like river waters bursting through a dam. 

“We’re thinkers, innovators. People like your mother don’t think the way we do. They don’t plan accordingly. They’re selfish, Athena. They don’t think of the future generations.”

She nodded. 

“I know you, Athena, more than your mother ever will. That’s why you’re my favorite. You’re not like the rest of the children, and you never have been. That’s why I always wanted you to go to Dublin and learn to be a lady with the rest of your cousins.”

“Father… please, you know I don’t want to go.”

“I know, darling.” He stumbled over to his daughter and patted her hand. “Besides, your aunts and uncles and cousins don’t have near enough the intelligence that you have.” She giggled, gently placing her fingers over her pink mouth. “You are better off here anyway, where you can get the gold.” 

“Yes, Father,” she said. “Father?”

“Yes, dear Athena?”

“Every day you’ve been walking me to Beochaineadh Castle, and we part ways and you go on to town. But, I want to go on my own. I’m tired of being treated like a child. So, I will go today if you let me go on my own.”

He smiled. “I commend you for your independent spirit, my daughter. Of course! You’re no child—you’re a young lass now.”

Athena grinned a thin smile, her lips as small as a needle thread. 

“You go on now. I’ll be leaving soon after you,” he said. “It will be our little secret.”

“Alright, Father. Goodbye.” She kissed him on the cheek, as she did every morning, and trotted over to the door. Once out, the girl ran off into the forest and perched behind a tree, waiting on him to leave. A few moments later, he had changed into his work clothes and whistled as he trudged on to the village.

Athena waited for her mother. When Mrs. Everleigh came, she came as slow as turtles. 

“Iníon!” the woman called, her dress weaving in and out of the blades of tall grass. 

Maidin mhaith a M'athair,” Athena greeted, jumping through the grass to reach her.

“Have you woken da children yet?” Mrs. Everleigh asked, as bright and beautiful and gentle as the morning flowers. She spread her arms out, feeling the sun.

“No, Ma.”

“Well, that's alright. Let’s go in then.” She walked up the stone steps leading to the back door.

Athena stopped her mother, grabbing Mrs. Everleigh by the hand. “Ma, I have something’ ta tell ya.” 

“What’s that, me lass?” 

“I lied to Pa and told ‘im I was gone ta town. He asked me dis mornin’ why I wasn’t goin’ and I didn’t know what to say. He thinks I’m gone….”

“Oh, me lass.” Mrs. Everleigh hugged her daughter. “‘Tis alright. We’ll keep it a secret between us that you’re stayin’ here to help. I’ll tell da youngin’s not to say anything either to your áthair.”

“I didn’t mean to lie but I didn’t want to upset him,” Athena said. 

“‘Tis alright to lie to that’ man. He won’t listen to da truth anyhow.”

Athena dropped her head.

Mrs. Everleigh began to laugh. “I commend ya, me lass.” She put a hand on her daughter’s shoulders. “Don’t look that way. Ya did da right thing.” The woman opened the door and walked inside. Athena remained on the porch, her eyes stuck to the stone. 

~❦︎~❦︎~

* Iníon - Irish Gaelic for “Daughter”

Chapter 9: Chapter VIII - The Unlikeliest of Companions

Chapter Text

Sir Claudius paced back-and-forth from one side of the fireplace to the other. Three days she had been gone. He still lit the fire in the hopes that she would come, but more than anything, it brought him comfort. Breathing in the flames warmed his insides and reminded him of home.

For two weeks, Athena had cleaned the cupboards, washed the drapes, made his bed, set his table, dusted his furniture… Sometimes she would be cleaning a room, and he would move all of his stationary to that room just to listen to her hum. And then sometimes they would talk. Talk about anything. Her family. His journaling. Her love of the forest. His love of books (and hers too, he later found out). 

But for three days she had been gone. So, he paced, then sat and journaled, paced, then breathed in the flames, journaled, then paced, then picked a book off the now-dusted shelves, and read. Bleak reminders of the days before her. 

Today would make the fourth day and he wondered if she would come. 

There was an urgent knocking that echoed throughout the hallways.  

Sir Claudius halted for a moment, releasing his finger from his scruffy chin, then he sprinted through the Grand Hall, rushing to reach the tall doors. He slowed down, taking a few breaths, and brushed his cape off. 

“Miss Everleigh?” he called as he opened the doors.

“Sir Claudius,” he recognized her soft voice, “please forgive me.” 

“For what, Miss Everleigh?” The man ushered her inside. There was no longer a dark and relentless wind pulling her closer. Rather, light from the tall windows greeted her as she entered the Grand Hall, on her own.

“I haven’t worked in three days, Sir, and I apologize.” She curtsied, her pale blue dress spreading out across the floor.

“Oh, yes,” he spoke. “That is quite alright. I’m just content to be in your presence once more.”

Athena lifted her head. “Sir, I will only be able to work now four days a week.”

Sir Claudius’s heart fell and all the flames in his stomach were blown away by a strong wind. There was a forest fire upon seeing her, but now the landscape of his insides was barren. He cleared his throat. “You understand I will have to dock your pay, Miss Everleigh?” He clasped his hands together behind his back.

“Yes, Sir.” She bowed her head once more, then started off to the lower quarters of the castle to fetch her cleaning supplies. “I shall begin my work now.” 

“Wait!” The man held a hand out in the air, reaching after her. She stopped, faced him, and cocked her head. “Why—why did you go? Go, I mean, for three days? Why must you work for four now?”

She whispered, though audible, “My mother wants me to take care of the children more, since I am the eldest, Sir. She needs help… Sir. My father is gone every day and the second oldest child is but eleven.” 

“Only eleven? But aren’t you almost sixteen?”

“Yes, Sir, I actually turn sixteen next week.” She perked, the color returning to her cheeks and mouth. “My mother expects me to—work here—but also balance my time.”

“I see,” he said. 

“And I couldn’t come for the three days because she wouldn’t let me. She was upset because I had stayed gone so long.”

“Your mother is strict, I understand.”

“You don’t know the half of it, Sir Claudius,” Athena giggled, petting her hair. 

“Tell me more,” he said, walking to her side. “I shall accompany you to the lower quarters.”

“Oh, Sir, you don’t have to do that. I’m sure you have other affairs to attend to.”

“What affairs? Journaling? Reading? There is nothing to spend my time here that I haven’t already done for years and years.”

She glanced into his eyes the same colors as hers. “Except to speak with me?”

“Yes.” He looked into hers too. “I’ve noticed that we have the same color eyes, Miss Everleigh.”

“Imagine that.” She tore away, ruffling her skirts. 

“Yes, dark blue circling the outside and silvery blue on the inside. I’ve never seen anyone with the exact same color.”

“You must not get out much then, Sir Claudius,” Athena toyed with him.

“You are exactly right, Miss Everleigh, I don’t.”

“I figured you had been everywhere since you have all those books and you know how to read and write.” 

“Well, I—” He scratched his beard and turned to face the floor. Athena caught a glimpse of his eyes, studying them as he studied the stones. A small scar lined the inner corner of his left eye—something she had never noticed before. But she had never looked into his eyes for so long before and facing this direction, too. “I once went places and saw people—many places and many people. But, now, I haven’t been out of this castle in twenty years….” Sir Claudius lifted his head and slowly—shyly—moved his eyes in Athena’s direction. 

She gasped, darting her eyes to the wall across from him. “There are quite a few torches on these walls, yet are never lit, Sir Claudius.”

“No reason to, Miss Everleigh,” he replied. “I haven’t had guests in a number of years.” 

“Of course,” she spoke, before stopping in her tracks.

He stopped too. “What’s the matter?”

She twisted her face, breathed in, puffed her cheeks, and let out a deep laugh. “Sir Claudius, we’ve already passed the room where I keep my supplies.” She nearly heaved over laughing. “I can be such a fool sometimes!” 

He chuckled, following the movements of her neck muscles. “Silly, yes—but a fool, no.”

She stopped laughing, the sounds echoing throughout the dim hallways until fading away.

“Oh, I’m sorry if I’ve offended you, Miss Everleigh. Do forgive me.” He dropped his head, almost in a bowing position. His voice was the softest he had ever spoken in front of her, almost like what the moon would sound like if it had a sound. 

“No, Sir Claudius, you haven’t offended me. Actually,” she showed her teeth, letting out some air, “you are quite right.” 

His eyes met hers. 

“No one knows how silly I can be sometimes—how playful I’d like to be. Mother expects me to be serious and care for the children, without playing with them. The children of the village only whisper behind my back when I go to town, not knowing how much I long to run and skip with them. And Father… well, Father knows I like to be frivolous and adventurous, and he knows I’m not a fool but...”

“But what?”

“He doesn’t fully understand me. There are certain things that Mother knows about me which Father does not know about, and certain things Father knows about me which Mother does not know about.”

“I suppose it is that way with all children and their parents,” Sir Claudius interjected.

“But that does not make it any easier.” She shook her head, hugged herself about the shoulders, and headed toward the supply room. “And I’m not a child.”

Sir Claudius lifted an eyebrow and grinned. He felt a flame light in his stomach while watching her hips sway and the skirts wave. The ruffles could pick up just as much dust as any broom. Besides, he’d rather watch her than a broom any day. 

“I did not directly mean that you were a child, Miss Everleigh,” he spoke, sifting his gloved fingers through his long and stiff black hair.

“Well, I’m not.” She grabbed the handle of a broom out of the supply closet, and swiftly commenced sweeping. “Father likes to pretend that I am. He says he’ll buy me new books and that I can do things on my own now since I’m a ‘young lady’… And sometimes he lets me do things, but he still talks to me like I’m eight. He would walk me here every day if it weren’t for the gold.” She pushed the broom even harder, leaving bristle streaks across the floor.

“Whatever do you mean, Miss Everleigh?” Sir Claudius’s eyebrows twitched.

“Oh, forgive me, Sir Claudius. I’ve said too much. You mustn’t pay me any mind.” 

“I like listening to you, Miss Everleigh. There is nothing else for me to do.”

She blushed. “Well, if you insist—”

“Which I do.”

She paused and put both hands on top of the broom handle. “My father really only wants me to work here because of the gold, and when my mother told me to only work for four days out of the week, Father grew cross. So, I—told him I would come every day out of the week if he would let me walk by myself.”

“But you haven’t come here every day of the week,” Sir Claudius stated, arching one of his thick black brows, cutting a line into his pale skin.

“Yes, I know. I lied so that he would be happy, and I didn’t come so that my mother would be happy.”

She began to sweep again. Sir Claudius remained silent, stroking his beard. 

“I have to pretend in front of everyone, Sir Claudius. I have a face for my mother, a face for my father, a face for the children, a face for the townspeople…. I’ve never been Athena Everleigh. I’ve only ever been ‘darling’, or ‘iníon’, or ‘lass’, or ‘Annie’—which is what my siblings call me.” She sighed, resting her chin on the broom handle.

Sir Claudius leaned forward. “Would you prefer me calling you Athena Everleigh from now on?”

She smiled, took her chin off the broom handle, and began sweeping again. “Athena’s just fine.” She looked at him. “Thank you.”

“Of course… Athena.” He watched her push a few times. “Why did your father name you that?”

“My father loved Greek and Roman mythology.”

“‘Loved’?”

“He does not speak about it much anymore. Now he only speaks of work and gold and the future. But when I was a little girl, before the others were born, he read me stories of great Greek and Roman gods and goddesses and heroes and beasts… I used to love them, but I have not heard many of them in years.”

“Do you know who Athena is?”

“Of course I do!” She laughed. “You think I wouldn’t know the origin of me own name— Ooh, my own name?”

“You are just as Irish as ever,” he said, his eyes shimmering. 

She rolled her eyes. “Anyhow—Athena is the Greek goddess of war and wisdom. Everyone knows that.”

“Not around here, they don’t.”

“I suppose you’re right.”

“Do you… identify with her?”

“Sometimes I do.”

“In what way?”

“Father only really ever read the story of Odysseus to me, and then told me the tales of her changing Arachne into a spider and Medusa into a monster. Sometimes I thought she was awful for doing such cruel things to people, but the older I’ve gotten, the more I almost like it. I like that she was cunning and creative—that she told Odysseus and her other chosen people to be mischievous.” Her eyes shone like fire. “There’s an art to mischief anyhow.” 

“So you’re mischievous then?” 

“Oh, Sir Claudius, I’m not mischievous. I merely know how to be mischievous.”

“Would you call lying to your father mischievous?”

She quieted, pausing sweeping to think. Each time she stopped, she would either grab the handle or rest her chin on it. This time, she lifted up onto her tiptoes to think harder. “No, I call it keeping the peace.” And she kept sweeping.

Sir Claudius’s shoulders rose and dipped, as he convulsed with great laughter. He was broader about the shoulders than at the waist, and nearly two heads taller than Athena, so when he moved it startled her. “You don’t think he will find out sooner or later?”

“I hope not,” she whispered.

He wiped a tear from his eye, still chuckling. “Pardon?”

Louder this time, “I hope he does not find out.”

“I-I’m sorry, Athena. It’s just I haven’t had company in quite some time and certainly haven’t heard something as funny as that in an even longer time.”

She giggled. “It wasn’t even funny. I’m telling the truth, Sir!” She turned to him and smiled. “You say that I’m silly. Look at yourself!” 

He pressed his back up against the wall and slid down, continuing to laugh.

“Sir!” she called after him, dropping the broomstick and running to his side. “Did you hit your head?”

“No,” he laughed. “Oh, Athena, how embarrassing this is for me.”

“It’s quite alright, Sir,” she giggled. “I understand.”

“Where were we anyhow? Oh, yes, with your father and the gods and goddesses. Go on!”

“Oh, ay, Sir… Well, I like that Athena is also wise. I find it interesting that the Goddess of Wisdom can also be cunning. I don’t see why the two can’t go hand in hand.”

Sir Claudius calmed down, taking deep breaths in and out. She thought she saw smoke coming out of his nostrils, but dismissed it, thinking it was mist. After all, the lower portions of the castle were mighty cold. 

“I find that interesting, too, Athena.” All at once, colors came into his face—colors she hadn’t even thought existed on his skin. His cheeks glowed red. It almost reminded her of their first encounter when she saw his eyes—something she rather wished to forget.

Sir Claudius almost leaped from his crouching position against the wall. He cleared his throat and stood tall. “Excuse me, Miss Everleigh,” he spoke, in a darker voice. “You must forgive my rather unruly state.”

“I forgive you, Sir. I only hope that you’re alright.”

“I’m quite well. You continue with your sweeping now.” He turned and walked in the other direction, his boots squeaking across the floor and his cape flowing like dark streams of water. 

“Yes, Sir,” she mumbled, picking the broom up and tossing the handle around. Once he was gone, she thought to herself, I only hope I didn’t reveal too much.

Chapter 10: Chapter IX - Master of Potions

Chapter Text

Sir Claudius flipped the pages in his book of potions, searching for the one that would detect, and eventually lead him to, púcaí. He trailed his fingers over the words, skimming and skimming until he met the drawing of a light blue potion. “Ah, there you are!” He muttered the ingredients to himself, then read the directions. “Bog breath—the main ingredient!” He ran over to his table and opened the drawer which contained vials of labeled liquids. He sifted through them until reaching for one with a dark green and brown liquid inside. “It’s been years since I’ve opened this!” He retrieved his mixing bowl, popped the top off the liquid, and inhaled its dank scent. “Ah… smells just like I remember.” He poured a generous amount into the bowl, causing a green mist to form. “I really should measure this but haven’t the time,” he muttered, leaning over to read the rest of the ingredients and directions. 

“Three shakes of pucaí mist… I’m not sure how much of that I have left.” Sir Claudius went to another table and opened its drawers. “No.” He opened another. “No!” He then ran to an armoire which contained even more liquids and gases and spices and… other smelly inhabitants—rotten toes and fingers from various animals. Sir Claudius pinched his nose, running his free hand over the vials. Then, there it was. The vial was the lightest of blues, almost white like the moon. It was the color that spirits such as wisps and púcaí left behind. It would help to attract and locate the púca he was after. He traveled to his mixing bowl, popped off the top, and gently shook the mist out, careful to not waste any. “Now, what’s the final ingredient? … An appendage from the animal that the púca shapeshifts into.” He shuddered, looking over toward the armoire. Sir Claudius grabbed some gloves from below his main table and tiptoed over to the armoire. He sucked in air and puffed out his cheeks, almost wanting to shut his eyes so he didn’t have to look at the thing. He pinched the rotten cat tail between his forefinger and thumb, lifted it into the air, skirted across the floor, and tossed it into the mixing bowl. It made a loud splash, but the bowl was big enough to not let anything spill out. 

He mixed until thoroughly combined and the stench fell away. He let the air out of his mouth and panted for a moment. “There, ‘tis finished.” Sir Claudius poured the light blue mixture into a container, sealed the top, and kissed it. He then took an ink pen and labeled it: Púcaí Locater. “Now, no púcaí will be able to escape me!” 

Sir Claudius set it off to the side and moved to his other creation: an English translation of the stories of the Greek goddess Athena. For the past week, he had searched throughout his extensive library for Greek books, documents, and scrolls that depicted the goddess—then translated them to English in a journal. He wrote side commentary specifically for Miss Everleigh, with analysis as well as facts she might find intriguing. 

He had slipped a short note into the fold of the journal, planning on giving it to her right before she left at the end of the day. Sir Claudius swept the journal under his arm and dashed out of the dungeon, taking his torch with him. 

Laying the journal down on his table next to the fireside in the living area, he waited for those three unmistakable knocks on the doors. After a few moments, he began pacing, almost wishing he could run outside and give the journal to her then and there. 

Sooner or later, the three knocks sounded throughout the Grand Hall. Sir Claudius made a straight shot, like a bullet, to the doors. He slicked his hair back with his gloved palms before revealing himself. 

“Ah, Miss Everleigh!” he exclaimed. “How glad I am to see you on such an occasion as this!” 

“And what would that be?” Athena raised one of her golden eyebrows as she walked inside. 

“You are now sixteen years of age, yes?” His face turned even paler, the color of snow. 

“I’m only pulling your leg, Sir Claudius,” she giggled.

“Oh, oh!” He laughed, too, a slight bit of color returning to his cheeks. “I wish you the best of birthdays, Miss Everleigh.”

“Why, thank you, Sir Claudius. I’m surprised you remembered.” 

“You’ve—grown since you began working here,” he said, stumbling over the words and taking in a gulp of air.

“A full three weeks no doubt!” Athena called, looking at him and smiling. He got lost in her watery blue eyes, like a lake when it first ices over. “Well, I’d better get started on my duties.” She began to head to the lower portions of the castle.

“Athena, would you mind cleaning the fireplace today?” he asked. 

She turned, skeptical. “But, Sir, I cleaned it yesterday. Are you sure?”

“Yes,” he answered, stiff as a stick. 

“Yes, Sir.” And off she went, with him trailing not far behind. 

~❦︎~

Athena dusted the fireplace. The flames encased her petite figure, so all Sir Claudius had to gaze upon was a black silhouette. But a figure nonetheless. He would look at her, then she would find his gaze, and he would go straight back to journaling—but soon the cycle would start all over again.

“Sir Claudius,” the girl called, dusting the top of the panel. 

“Yes, Athena?”

She turned and looked into his eyes, stern as a hawk. “When I read your advertisement, it stated that I would not only be your housekeeper but your apprentice. Yet, thus far you have not mentioned anything of the sort. Is there a reason for this?” 

He sunk deeper into his chair, propped one leg on top of the other, and bit the end of his fountain pen. “Ah… yes, Miss Everleigh. I—simply did not think you would be interested in the work. I have never had a woman as my apprentice before.”

Athena stretched her arm out, like a ballerina beginning a pirouette, and dusted the top of the panel in short strokes. She giggled, though kept her eyes on her work, and the apples of her cheeks darkened in the harsh light of the flame. “Well, now that you know I am content with whatever work comes to me, I’m sure you would not mind undertaking me as your apprentice,” she spoke, her voice moving like the streams in the nearby forest. 

“Oh, of course!” He took the pen out of his mouth and forced a grin. “I would be most happy to have you as my apprentice….” 

“Well, then, let’s get started today!” She spun about on her heels, setting down the feather duster, then crouched near him with her hands on her knees.

“Yes, let’s!” He darted his eyes to the nearby settee.

“What would you have me do first?” All of a sudden, she threw her head back in laughter. “Oh, silly me! I haven’t the slightest inclination what it is you’ll be teaching me. Go on then.” 

He brought his eyes back to hers, though lagging, and watched her for a moment. “My dear, you’re so eager. I… Come, I will show you.” He arose and stretched before pacing off to the lower portions of the castle. 

“Oh, of course, Sir Claudius.” The girl picked up her skirts and ran after him. “Where are we going?” she queried, delighted as a kitten upon receiving a bowl of warm milk. Her voice was breathy yet exhilarated. 

“To the dungeons, my dear.”

“Ooh… the dungeons! I’ve never been there before.”

He chuckled. “Well, I’ve never taken you this far into the castle before.” 

The walls began to look even more ancient—the familiar stone blocks with straight edges faded away, and instead, large cobblestones began to line the walls. There were many circular ones all together, with chips and wear on the edges, and some sort of old gray paste held them in place. Athena inhaled the must and grime, then sneezed. “Oh, forgive me, Sir Claudius!” she sniveled.

“It is alright, Miss Everleigh. I will admit the dungeons are quite old and have not been cleaned in some time.” 

At one point, no light filtered in from the rest of the castle, and the only thing providing any form of lumination was Sir Claudius’s torch. A warm and red circle formed around the man in black. Athena had never looked at his figure so closely before, but the black cloak wrapped nicely about him, hugging his broad shoulders and accentuating his midriff before splashing out at the tail end. She followed the way the cape blew in the wind and noticed its intricate, light brown embroidery. Just like the furniture in the other portions of the castle, the cape’s embroidery was of snakes and flames that circled around one another, entwining like thorns and vines she had found in the thickets. 

“Here we are, Miss Everleigh.” He stood at a doorway, his torch leading inside, but all Athena saw was the black void ahead of her. He took her by the hand and guided her before lighting another torch in the room. “Watch,” he called. “They are all connected.” As the torch lit up, so did the other torches in the large room one by one. They went all around and eventually began to spiral up and up until reaching a wooden chandelier at the very top. An explosion of light soon sparked from it. “Makes it easy so that I don’t have to light every single one of them,” he spoke, closing his eyes and blowing out the torch in his hand. 

Athena giggled in delight. “Oh, how beautiful!” she yelled, dancing about, looking at all the books and vials and torches and the chandelier and the cabinets and armoires filled with even more liquids and spices. “There is so much, Sir Claudius!”

“Yes, yes, it is quite amazing, isn’t it? I have one of the largest collections out of any… alchemist.”

“Hah!” she gasped. “So that is what you are? You work with chemicals and such?” 

“I suppose you could say that.”

“Oh, I’ve always been so interested in this but I didn’t know where to start, or who to turn to, or what books to read.” She ran to him, jumping up and down. He bobbed his head, watching her. He had never smiled for such an extended period of time. 

“Where do I begin? Show me something! I want to see one of your… alchemy bottles or… just something! I want to see something and understand what it means! Please!!” She ran to him and tugged at his glove.

Sir Claudius dropped his jaw but otherwise remained standing still. “Miss Everleigh, if you please,” he said, pulling his arm away. 

“Oh, of course. Please forgive my conduct. It’s only that I’ve never seen anything like this before. I’ve only ever seen fish and fishermen and my house and the forest and housework.” 

“I appreciate your curiosity and willingness to learn. You are a fiery one, that is for certain.” Both of their eyes smiled back at one another until Sir Claudius tore away and went to one of his potions. “I do have a few tricks up my sleeve though.” He smirked.

“So this is no practical science,” she said, smiling. “Magic, is it?”

“Magic, indeed. Here is one potion I made this morning.” His black gloves wrapped around a light blue bottle—he paraded it around the room like a circus magician before his eyes found their way back to her. She was entranced with the blue light emanating off of the bottle. “Are you familiar with púcaí, Miss Everleigh?” 

As soon as he uttered the word, Athena shuddered and her eyes fell away. “Y-yes, Sir. My mother told me stories about them when I was very little. Irish spirits of folklore, aren’t they?”

“Yes, such nasty little varmints.” Athena’s eyes grew wider. “This is meant to be a potion for catching them.” He handed it to her. 

She took it, her fingers shaking. He is only joking. He is only an alchemist or a scientist or a circus magicianhe cannot be a true Master of Potions, Athena tried to convince herself. Masters of Potions have not been in this land for years….

“Well?”

“It is exquisite, Sir Claudius. A lovely blue. What does it actually do, though?” She laughed. “Besides catching púcaí, that is.” The girl handed the bottle back to him.

“Oh, oh yes, that. Well, I will show you.” 

He tore the top off, and only a matter of seconds after he did, the blue mist shot up into the air, like a windstorm catching speed, and it hovered over both of them. It circled until becoming a cloud the color of Athena’s eyes—after which it landed on her, not Sir Claudius. 

The girl shrieked, covered in the damp mist and residue. Sir Claudius gaped, almost falling over. “You—you are the púca…” he whispered. His eyes did not turn into fire but snow—the same girl who had given him color in his face the past few weeks drained every ounce.

“No one is supposed to know!” She screamed, crying and hyperventilating. “They’ll take it away from me!” she repeated over and over again, almost drowning in the blue liquid. 

“Who will take what away from you?” Sir Claudius questioned, standing still, in shock.

“You are a Master of Potions!” she screamed, fighting him. She threw her arms in the air and pushed him away. “You want my gift for your own! You want to use my ability for your own selfish desires! You tricked me! All along this was a trick! I should have listened to her…” The girl trailed off, her tears seeping into the blue liquid residue. He could not tell what was the liquid and what were her tears after several minutes of crying. “You knew I was a púca all along…” Athena mumbled, holding her chest.

“Miss Everleigh, I swear it, I did not know you were a púca. When… that day we first met, I thought you were one at first when I could not see you very well, but then when I realized you were human, I stopped immediately.” She dared not look into his eyes again, those cold, lying eyes. 

“How are you alive and yet a púca at the same time? You are not a spirit by any means…”

She sniffled then wiped her nose with her sleeve. “You swear it, you’re not after my gift?”

“I swear, by all the spirits of the earth, I swear,” he said with a more reassuring tone.

She began to cry again. “No one is supposed to know. No man must know!” she yelled, burying her face in the hem of her dress and heaving. 

“Would it help to know that I am not a man?”

“What?” She lifted her head, sobbing.

“Indeed, Miss Everleigh, I am not a man. A Master of Potions, yes, and I can appear as a man at certain times, but I was not born one.”

“Then, what are you?” she asked. 

“I am a dragon.”

Chapter 11: Chapter X - Two Secret Lives Discovered

Chapter Text

“So, does it make you feel better knowing that I am a creature who has lived for hundreds upon hundreds of years?”

Athena blew her nose into the pile of towels and handkerchiefs. There were so many, gathered by Sir Claudius from all about the castle, that one could have mistaken it for a pile of snow. “I don’t know…” she spoke, barely moving her pink pruned lips.

“Well, you must know I am—friends with the benevolent púcaí,” he uttered, handing her another towel. “At first, I thought you were one of the nastier púcaí, Miss Everleigh. They’ve pestered me all throughout the ages: knocking over vials, scattering my books and papers, spilling my ink—” 

“Is that why your—” Athena gaped, catching a moment of his eyes, before covering her face with the towel. “Your eyes, Sir Claudius?”

“Yes! I have the ability to eliminate spirits—one of the perks of being a dragon.” He smiled, his pointed teeth glittering in the red and gold firelight. 

Athena burrowed into the towel. 

Sir Claudius faltered, jaw dropping and his hands flying behind him. “But, of course, I stopped, as soon as I realized you were human.” A hesitant smile shot straight onto his face again—he cocked his head to the side and a few teeth glinted out of the right side of his mouth. 

Athena slid the towel down along her pink face—and Sir Claudius became just as entranced as a bug to a ball of flame in the dark of night. Her eyes were as blue as the heart of a flame, her cheeks just as red and rosy as the part encircling the heart, and her forehead and neck as pale as a flame’s flowery edges. 

“Do forgive me, Sir Claudius,” she whispered, not rising above the hushed meows of a kitten. “No one has ever known about my… gift… besides my mother. I fear it will be taken away from me….”

“Oh, don’t worry about that, lass!” he called, kneeling at her side. “I’ll put in a good word for you. Remember, they're my friends!” He chuckled, glowing red in the cheeks.

“Of course,” Athena cooed. She then sighed deeply, her breath sinking into the towel. “I suppose you’re right, Sir Claudius. There is no need to fret now. What’s done is done.” She dropped the towel on the ground, rose, and glanced around the room. “I will clean all of this—”

“Oh, allow me!” Sir Claudius stopped her from walking any further. “I gathered the towels and handkerchiefs, after all. I’ll take them to the laundry room and you can take care of them later.”

“Are you certain?” She lifted a brow.

“Yes, it’s the least I can do.”

Athena sat back down in the chair, after being prompted by Sir Claudius. The pile was almost to his knee, but he scooped them all up in one swift motion, then bounced them in his arms like a newborn baby, proving to Athena he could handle the load. She grinned. 

Upon his return, Athena spoke: “I suppose you want to know how I received this gift?” 

“More or less.” He chuckled, bringing a gloved hand to his mouth. “I’ve never met a live púca before!”

“Well, as far as I know, I’m the only one.” She brushed her hands across her pale blue, almost faded silver, skirts—the color of the moon’s reflection in murky water. “My mother was always kind and generous to the land and its creatures. She cared for the animals of the forest if they grew to be sick. She trimmed trees if their branches grew to be too long. She also spoke to the púcaí somehow… She does not talk about it much, but I know she communicates with them. And, once she married my father and knew she was with child, the púcaí granted her a gift. Her firstborn child would have the powers of the púcaí when she came of age. So, when I turned fifteen, I chose my animal—a cat, obviously—and I can transform into Milly whenever I please!”

“Milly?”

“Oh, it’s what the townspeople call me in cat form. I used to…”

He leaned in. “What?”

Athena’s cheeks flushed, ripe as strawberries in spring. “I... used to visit the taverns there, quite often, as a cat. That’s actually how I found your advertisement.”

“So it was!” He slapped the palms of his hands on his knees in delight.
“Otherwise,” she covered her lips, “I wouldn’t have been allowed in there.”

“How very naughty of you!” He bellowed at first, before noticing how her eyes had fallen away from his. “Do forgive me, Miss Everleigh. It was improper of me to insinuate that… um….”

“It is alright, Sir Claudius.” She popped up again. “I live two lives after all. And you know about the other one now.”

“So I do.” Their eyes met, silver interlocking with silver.

“Would you—care to learn about my other life… Milly?”

“Why, of course… Sir Dragon.” 

~❦︎~❦︎~

End of Part I - The Everleighs

Chapter 12: Part II - The Curse of the Clan

Chapter Text

Sir Claudius had always found humans rather charming, so much so he asked the Dragon Patriarch of his clan to become one and live amongst them—much to his family’s scorn. It was not uncommon for dragons to turn into other beings by using powerful potions and spells or to move in with other cultures, but there were always stipulations: Sir Claudius’s being that he would only have the ability to be a human half of the time. By day, a man. By night, a dragon. And so he left his home cave and traveled across Ireland, bearing plenty of gold, until he settled down in a village near Dublin.

Dragons did not have as complex a language as humans, so that was the first trial the young man had to overcome. His human brain was of course designed for grammar and syntax, but venturing to towns and learning from people often led to much confusion. A teenage boy with the brain of a toddler. 

Even more confusing, Sir Claudius did not seem to age—at least, not at the rate of humans. Generations passed, and he remained as youthful-looking as ever. Eventually, he had become well-cultured and knowledgeable in the arts and history of humans. He knew every tale, myth, painting, fashion, and so on that Dublin had to offer, as he visited the local libraries, museums, and playhouses often. 

But he would stay home at night, and no one saw the dragon meant to induce fear in the heart of man. That was his clan’s role—to strike fear in hearts and strike fire in forests. Fear kept man in his place and fire allowed the trees to grow. 

It was a tradition for dragons, even if they moved out of their clan, to continue their roles. If they did not fulfill their birth clan’s duties, it would lead to certain death. In dragon culture, there were many ways to die honorably—the most honorable was being struck by a knight while protecting their clan’s castle or cave. But, the most disgraceful death of all dragon clans was turning to stone. 

If a dragon turned to stone, this meant that he had not fulfilled his duties properly. No dragon alive knew the origin of this disgraceful death—this stone disease that rose from the tip of the tail all the way to the teeth—but all dragons knew it existed. No dragon was a true dragon unless his duties were fulfilled. Otherwise, he was as useful as a statue made of stone, lifeless and dull.

Sir Claudius had lost touch with his dragon self. He spent all day in Dublin, reading, writing, and, eventually, gaining money for the tales he told. He used the money to build his castle so that he would not have to live in a cave any longer. There were of course dungeons in the lower portions, however, for him to sleep in. No one suspected a thing. 

But one night as he slept soundly, he felt a tingle in his tail. He brushed it off until the next morning he found he was not able to turn back into a human. Glancing back at his throbbing tail, he noticed it was beginning to turn silver at the tip. 

He pondered and pondered for hours, as the people in the town were waiting on him to come and tell tales. He could not die now. He had to ask for help.

He picked himself up, exited the lower portions of the castle, and galloped to the forest. He set as many fires as possible, but still, it was not enough. Sweat trickled down his scaly head. He would have to do something he had always dreaded—scaring a human.

Sir Claudius dragged his tail to the small nearby town, staying on the outskirts. He wished to speak his heart, to tell the stories of his clan and see the peoples’ faces ignite in wonder. If only dragons and humans could live in harmony, or at the very least be companions, like cats and humans. But he was cursed. The Dragon Patriarch hadn’t given Sir Claudius a unique gift, as he thought when he was young. Instead, he had cursed him with the ability to half-way be human. There was no escape from his dragon-self. 

As he sat in the forest, waiting for his eventual demise, a traveler passed by. It was an older man—he shrieked and threw down all his bearings upon seeing Sir Claudius, running back to town. 

The stone on his tail disappeared, healing in an instant. He then became a man once more, bathed in sunlight.

Sir Claudius sighed. 

But from his depressive state arose a new idea. Perhaps he did not have to strike fear in the hearts of everyone by exposing himself—perhaps he only had to make forest fires, then have someone strike fear for him. 

Thus, every few years or so, he hired an apprentice. The apprentice would clean his castle for him, make him food, travel to town for errands, master the art of potions under his teaching, and frighten the local village with the tales of the dragon. Sometimes Sir Claudius would accompany him, telling tales alongside his apprentice. But, no apprentice ever stayed throughout the night. No apprentice, no one in the town, nobody, knew he was the dragon causing forest fires. Sometimes people in the forest caught a glimpse of him, screaming and running away. But no one ever guessed that Sir Claudius of Beochaineadh Castle—easily becoming the most famous storyteller in all of Dublin—was a dragon.

It was only when his apprentices began to grow old and he remained a young man did anyone become suspicious. Other tales arose about the Elixir of Life that Sir Claudius supposedly obtained—instead of the typical tales about dragons that ran rampant in the town. He did not want to but knew he would have to stop visiting the town. So, he did, and people eventually stopped speaking of him. He asked for his apprentices to stop telling so many tales about dragons and to not believe or spread the tales about an Elixir of Youth. 

The stories died down and Beochaineadh Castle became more of a mystery than it had been before. He started having apprentices for longer periods of time, making closer acquaintances with them. They learned some of his secrets, but never about his dragon-self. He asked them to stop the spread of tales about the Elixir of Youth, and they did. 

Years passed, and people stopped caring so much. Of course, fears and stories arose about the man of Beocheanaidh Castle, but no one ever dared to go there except for the apprentices. And the apprentices assured that there were no Elixirs of Life to be found—Sir Claudius had aged and died already and now his son with the same name owned the castle. Of course, anyone would lie such a lie when given enough gold. And anyone would believe such a lie from someone with enough gold.

The apprentices hailing from Beochaineadh Castle soon became known for their wealth. After one’s death, other townspeople would flock to the castle and apply for the position—but Sir Claudius only accepted one person who needed the gold the most. No one with money ever left with money. The chosen ones would then gain the knowledge of the potions and, more importantly, gold. 

For hundreds of years, apprentices came one right after another. But nearing the “turn of the century”, as the people of Dublin began saying, for one reason or another, the apprenticeships ceased. Twenty years passed, and Sir Claudius remained silent, bereft of an apprentice to voice his tales. But, in 1905, Athena Everleigh became his only hope. 

Chapter 13: Chapter XI - A Gift for the Ages

Chapter Text

“So, what did you tell the apprentices when they noticed you never aged?” Athena questioned, balancing her chin on her knuckles.

“I… told them I had an Elixir of Youth.”

“And they believed you?” She lifted an eyebrow.

“Do you believe me?” He grinned.

“Well, no!” The girl laughed, almost falling back onto the settee. “But that is because I know your secret! Dragons don’t age.”

“It’s not that they don’t age, Athena. It’s that we don’t age as fast as humans.”

“Whatever it is you say.” She giggled, flipping her hair around to the front and tugging on it. 

Sir Claudius allowed a few teeth to sparkle in the pale light. “You know, Athena, in dragon years, I am of good age.”

“What do you mean by that?” 

“It means I am not too young—not a young lad, annoying and naive. But I am neither too old—an old man, senile and weak. In human years, I estimate I am between twenty-five and thirty-five. In dragon language… It is called… Oh, it is hard to translate.”

“Well, you could always lie to me and I wouldn’t know the difference.” Athena glistened, her skin like the foam of waves touching the shore, her teeth like the glimmer of moonlight in the still ocean water—on easy nights when there was no tide. Her voice reminded Sir Claudius of the tune of waves hitting the shore, soothing him just enough so that he could rest—even on late nights when every ounce of him fought against sleep—when his nightmares reminded him of—

“Sir Claudius?”

“Yes, Athena?”

“The translation?” She leaned forward.

“Oh, yes, the translation! Uhm… I believe the word would be something along the lines of ‘ready for eating’ or ‘plump’. Dragons are carnivores so that is why we use that terminology. In more human terms, the word would be ‘ripe’.”

“‘Ripe’...” she repeated, wondering if she had heard the word correctly. “Ripe for what? Ripe for a-pickin’?” She covered her lips with her hand, giggling.

Sir Claudius sank deeper into his chair across from her. “I suppose you could say that. Again, the translation is difficult. Dragon language is very different from human language—”

“In what ways?” Her eyes tore into him.

“Well… there are many ways…. You—you’ll have to excuse me. I’ve never conversed with another human about this before.”

“Not even your other apprentices?”

“No, because they did not know I was a dra—”

“Oh, that’s right!” She lightly ran her fingers through her hair. “Silly me! They did not know you were a dragon! Carry on.”

“Yes, of course.” He scratched his scruffy chin, and a shrill sound echoed throughout the room from his nails striking the thick, coarse hairs. “Well, for one, it is much more simple. Although we have multiple sounds—growls, roars, shrieks, deep bellows, low-pitched noises no human can hear—we still have no amount of variety of words that humans have. We have specific ‘calls’ for each dragon—almost like a name. We have certain growls and deep rumbles for each object we encounter—fire, tree, lake. But dragons don’t necessarily think in… abstract ways. We don’t ever think of how the stars made it up in the sky, or about writing down all the stories we have, or about love—”

“You mean dragons don’t love each other?!” Athena shrieked. Her mouth hung agape. 

Sir Claudius sat still, not moving a muscle, not breathing. Trickles of sweat poured down his face.

“N—not in the way in which humans… love one another.” He reached for a handkerchief, patting his head. 

“Oh…” She sat back down, her eyes flying towards her skirts. She ruffled them then played with her hair. 

“What is wrong, Athena?”

“It’s just that—that… it must be awful for there to be no love amongst your kind. What a pity.” 

“Oh, Athena, you misunderstood me. We still care for and look after one another. After all, we do live in clans. We must protect each other or else we would die…. It’s only that, for dragons, we don’t write poems for our… mates, we don’t serenade them, or… kiss….”

She balled up her skirts in her fists. “Well, I suppose that’s alright. At least you care for one another….” 

“Athena…”

“Yes?” 

“Why do you think I wanted to become a human?”

She lifted her eyes, shooting straight towards him. “I remember you said you found us charming.” The girl pouted no longer.

“Indeed I did.” He chuckled. “If only I were a human all of the time….” 

“Couldn’t you concoct a potion that would allow you to become fully human?”

“I’m afraid not, Athena. For the patriarch of my clan was much older and more powerful than me, by all means. The—curse he placed upon me can never be undone. At least, not for many, many years and many, many trials and errors. You and your children and even your grandchildren would be long gone by the time I found a way to undo this curse.” 

“I see.” 

“Is there anything else you would like to know? It could be about dragon language and customs, or me….”

“Yes, I do, Sir Claudius.” She raised up, arching her shoulders. “Why is it that there were no apprentices for many years before me? You said you had a constant strain of them for hundreds of years. What happened—”

“Enough.” 

Sir Claudius’s eyes turned searing red, and his pupil became a popping blue. Sparks of flame burst out of his tear ducts. The girl thought she saw ashes falling to the ground. 

Miss Everleigh reared back. Her shoulders fell and her body slid into the settee. 

“You must know as my apprentice and housekeeper, Miss Everleigh, that there are certain things which are not to be spoken about within these castle walls. Is that understood?”

She bowed her head and crossed her feet. Her skin melted from the scorching heat.

“Yes, Sir.” 

She rose from the settee and dragged her feet along the floor, all the way to the supply closet. 

~❦︎~

Miss Everleigh snatched a few glimpses of Sir Claudius from a distance. He perched in his chair, one long leg over the other, engrossed in his book. His eyes darted across the pages—he turned one after another, minute by minute. She looked at the fine lines on his mouth, deciding whether they were lines of excitement and engagement due to the book, or lines of anger because of her. She would have been able to tell if only his eyes met hers. 

The girl dusted then plumped the pillows on the furniture. Sir Claudius remained latched onto the book. She plumped the pillows harder, small booms echoing throughout the castle. 

“Now Miss Everleigh,” he spoke, not lifting his eyes, “I’d rather you not have to clean up any feathers that come out of those pillows.”

“Of course, Sir.” She laid the pillow down. 

The girl traversed over to the edge of the fireplace, where her broomstick leaned against it. She took it by the handle, then faced Sir Claudius, who might as well have been nailed to his book. She released the handle from her fingers, and the broom fell straight to the ground. 

Sir Claudius bolted up, staring Miss Everleigh down; the girl studied his eyes. 

“I apologize, Sir. It slipped out of my hand.” 

“Slipped out of your hand, you say?” She nodded. “Very well then.” He went back to his reading and she stood stiff and straight. The girl then balled her skirts up in her fists and gritted her teeth. She stamped her foot on the ground, picked up the broom—not sweeping gently at all—and laid her eyes on the floor.

Sir Claudius kept his head low, but arched his brows and watched her movements. She had her back turned to him, her curls bouncing with each swivel of the broom. The man huffed, a dream of a laugh releasing from his nostrils. 

“Miss Everleigh, if you want my attention that badly, you could at the very least make conversation with me.”

Athena groped the handle of the broom, digging her nails into its softened wood. 

“Who said I wanted your attention, Sir Claudius?” asked her curls.

“Why, you did, Miss Everleigh.”

The girl spun around, planted her feet, and dug her knuckles into her hips. “I said no such thing!” Athena flared her pink nostrils and stuck out her bottom lip. If Sir Claudius had been any closer, he might have heard tumultuous ocean waves cascading in her eyes. 

Announcing the champion of the battle, the newly-repaired Grandfather Clock rang. Both Sir Claudius and Athena looked to check the time, then turned to face one another—Athena pouting like a toddler and Sir Claudius grinning like a gull after having caught his dinner. 

“Before you leave, I have something for you, my darling Miss Everleigh.” 

“And what would that be?” She crossed her arms, broom still in hand. 

Sir Claudius put down his book, shut it, and trotted over to the fireplace. Athena furrowed her brows, following close behind. 

The man returned with a satchel. “Happy birthday.”

Athena’s eyes ran rampant, going back-and-forth between the satchel and Sir Claudius. “Well, thank you!” She put down the broom and reached for the brown bag. 

“Ah, ah, ah!” He pulled it away from her and shook a finger in her face. “I want you to open this with your father.”

“My father?” she retorted. 

“Yes, open it together, or else the gift will be spoiled.” 

“Fine. May I have it now?”

“Hasty, hasty Miss Everleigh.” He clicked his tongue, then dropped the satchel at her feet. “I do hope you enjoy it.” He turned around. “I will be retiring for the evening. Once you finish putting your supplies away, you may leave.”

“Thank you, Sir Claudius,” she spoke, picking the satchel up by the strap. 

“Of course, Miss Everleigh.” 

She took hold of the broom handle, walking with it to the supply closet.
“Oh, Miss Everleigh!” he called.

“Yes?”.

“Everything I’ve said today… they are our little secrets, yes?” 

“Yes.” She tugged at her curls behind her ears, smiling at the man for a moment, before he slipped away for the evening and she headed to the lower portions of the castle.

Chapter 14: Chapter XII - Mama Bird

Chapter Text

Sir Claudius reached out for the blanket, but the tips of his fingers met cold cobblestone instead. He groaned. 

Turning over, the hard rocks shifted beneath him, swaddling him up and stealing all the warmth from his body—like a snake swaddling a newborn baby. 

The man sat up, then stood on his wobbly feet. The last dying embers of the fire were his only sources of light and heat. He waddled over to the fireplace and held out his pale, bare hands. 

His clothes laid on his frozen toes. They were folded rather shoddily. He picked them up and began putting the layers on one by one, covering his silvery, almost scaly, body with black garments. When finished, he slipped on his signature pair of black gloves. 

Breathing in and out, he spoke: “Human again,” then smiled.

Taking a torch from the wall and leaning down toward the dying fire, Sir Claudius hummed to himself. He turned the torch over and over, roasting the end of the stick until it caught aflame. He blew on it several times, each release of air causing the flame to grow larger. After the torch grew to be full and a luminous ball encircled him, he stamped his boots on the remaining embers from the previous night. 

The man traveled out of the dungeons then passed by his room of potions. Typically, once he awoke as a human—when the sun climbed over the ocean and struck the cliffs and castle walls—he would go to his Master bedroom and commence resting. But, the man neither yawned nor rubbed his eyes. Rather, he hummed one of Athena Everleigh’s songs. She never quite sang in tune, but her voice was beautiful nonetheless—a baby bird learning how to chirp. 

I only hope I didn’t make her too uncomfortable… I want to hear her sing again…. 

Sir Claudius lit the fireplace of the Grand Hall, then sat down in his chair. He picked up his book from the table, the one he had shut the night before, and continued reading. The fireplace crackled away while he hummed the sweet tune of Athena. Athena Everleigh. Miss Everleigh. Athena. Athena. 

“Athena…” he whispered. “She knows I’m a dragon.” He touched his cheek. “And she… understands that I’m a dragon.” He set the book down in his lap and turned his head up toward the ceiling. He slid his arms to the back of his neck, then propped his legs up on the table. “She knows I’m a dragon. Miss Athena Everleigh knows I’m a dragon.” He chortled, and the book slipped off his lap. 

But the sound of the book slapping the floor was not what startled him that early morning before the birds had even arisen. Four knocks sounded at the door, each one slightly apart from the next—not urgent and rushed like Athena’s knocks.

Sir Claudius launched from his chair—he stood straight and tall, hovering over the fireplace. The man squinted, grabbed hold of his torch, and snuck on the balls of his feet to the main entrance. 

The four knocks sounded again. 

Sir Claudius glanced at the Grandfather Clock: 6 a.m. 

He went, faster this time, until reaching the grand doors. Sniffing through the tiny cracks, he shook his head, not recognizing the scent. 

The man placed his hands on the door handle, prying it open. Light filtered in through the castle; he squinted.

“Good morning, Sir,” a velvet voice greeted.

“Good… mo—morning,” he stuttered. Even at 6 a.m., the early morning rays were too much to handle.

“Are you or are you not Sir Claudius?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Are you or are you not Sir Claudius?” 

The man opened his eyes and standing before him—a basket on her arms, the morning rays encasing her frame, her brunette hair flowing in the breeze—was a woman he had never met before… perchance in a dream.

“I… Yes, I am Sir Claudius.” He bowed, his matted locks falling over his shoulders. “To what—”

“Good,” the woman spoke in Irish Gaelic all of a sudden. “You might remember me by the name of Isolde Byrne.” 

Sir Claudius gasped, staring the woman directly in the eyes. He then turned on his heels, latching onto the door, although not closing it. Vomit almost spewed out of his mouth before he swallowed. 

“Sir… I understand this is rather traumatic, but I need to discuss a serious matter with you. It does not have anything to do with the events of twenty years ago.” 

“You swear it?” he whispered, his eyes becoming the color of liquid gold, melting off of his face.

“I swear it.”

“Why then are you here, Mrs. Byrne?”

“I am now known as Mrs. Charles Everleigh.”

Silence echoed throughout the halls. 

Sir Claudius stopped breathing, but his heart beat as if he were sprinting—sprinting to release himself from the madness, of the madness of twenty years, of the madness of cobblestone, of the madness of cascading waves beating against cliffs, knowing all along he could not go back and repair the events of twenty years ago, that he was destined to die knowing he would never be able to—

“Athena. Athena Everleigh is your daughter.”

“Yes, Sir Claudius. She is my daughter.”

~❦︎~

Mrs. Everleigh sifted through the cabinets of the castle kitchens until her fingers reached the black tea kettle. “I can tell my Athena has sorted these. She always sorts the bowls and cups tallest to shortest.”

“Really? I—I hadn’t noticed…” Sir Claudius called from the kitchen table, squeezing a cup between his palms. 

Pulling the tea kettle out of the cabinet, Mrs. Everleigh lit a fire over the stove, poured water into the kettle, and set it over the flame. She then glanced over her shoulder. The man stared at the wall across from his seat. She sighed. 

Only a minute or two later, the tea kettle whistled—Sir Claudius nearly jumped out of his seat. Mrs. Everleigh pulled the kettle off the stove and traveled to the kitchen table. She motioned for Sir Claudius to give her his cup several times. The woman soon gave up and poured the flaming water into the cup locked in his grasp. The woman poured her own after that, taking several sips once it cooled.

“How is the tea, Mrs. Everleigh?”

She closed her eyes, feeling the hot herbs and spices tingle her throat. “Delightful, Sir.”

“I’m glad. Your daughter picked them while running errands last week.”

“I figured. She often asks for this kind of tea, although we never have the money to afford such delicacies.”

“Well, now you do.” He rubbed his thumbs over the cup handle.

Mrs. Everleigh sat her tea down. “Sir Claudius… I appreciate your generosity toward my Athena and our family, but I do not want the lass to be spoiled.”

“If I may, she is the most unspoiled lass I have ever encountered.”

“And how many lasses have you encountered, Sir Claudius?” 

The man’s eyes fell from the wall and into the teacup—as if he were drowning in the circling herbs and spices. 

“She is my daughter, Sir Claudius, and I know what is best for her. Generally, I would ask that this ‘housework’ cease immediately. But,” her eyes fell, “the púcaí have spoken.”

Sir Claudius knitted his brows and lifted his chin, reading Mrs. Everleigh’s face. “The púcaí?”

“Yes. Last night, when Athena opened her present with her father, the two of them attempted to hide it from me. But while Athena was cleaning up after supper, I found the satchel with the book and read it. Although your name was nowhere to be found, your markings were all over it. Your handwriting. Your unmistakable language. Your words so elegantly and delicately chosen. No one in this land can translate like you can, Sir Claudius. No one in this land can write as you can. I suppose… it surprised me because I thought she was telling me the truth all along…. The púcaí never said a word about Athena working for you—which is understandable because I am not meant to know all the púcaí know. I am grateful I do not know all the púcaí know…. But, I thought… she was truly becoming a benevolent daughter, who would never lie or hide secrets from her mother…. I wanted to confront her about it late last night, but I sought counsel from the púcaí instead. And…” Her bloodshot eyes searched Sir Claudius, scouring over his frame. “The púcaí told me they had a plan for you and Athena.”

Sir Claudius’s eyes caught aflame, as the fire spread all the way from his heart straight to his head. The flames roared around in his stomach, too, and licked his chest and tingled his ribcage. He felt them pounding against his brain—every nerve in his body lit up like small sticks and roots on fire. Mrs. Everleigh reared back, though only out of shock and not fear. He knew what human fear looked like and this was not it. He had seen fear far too many times in their eyes. 

“Excuse me, Mrs. Everleigh. It’s the dragon in me.”

“I can see that,” she said, gripping onto her chair. 

“A plan? What kind of plan?” he questioned, taking sips of the hot tea to douse the flames. 

“I’m not quite sure, Sir Claudius,” spoke Mrs. Everleigh, taking sips of her tea for the opposite reason. 

“Well, what would they have your daughter and I… do?” His eyes were the most intent and focused she had seen them.

“They want her to continue working here—no immediate changes.” Sir Claudius settled, sitting back in the chair and gulping down his tea.

“But I am not the púcaí,” Mrs. Everleigh retorted, eyes almost the same color as his. The man clenched his cup once more. “You will not treat my daughter with any more or less respect than any other human being. Just because she is a púca, that does not mean she is your toy or experiment. She will not be your pet that you give money and presents to. Neither will she be your creature to dissect. I know what money and power do to people, Sir Claudius, and I will not have my daughter become a malevolent púcaí for all eternity because of you. Is that understood?” the woman asked with a tone as sharp as the talons of a hawk.

Sir Claudius ran circles with his fingers around his cup. 

Yes, Mrs. Ever

“What makes you believe that I would ever treat your daughter with such a lack of respect?” 

Mrs. Everleigh twisted her neck to face him, eyes narrow and pointed like a taloned bird. Her brunette hair framed her heart-shaped face. “Well, naturally, Sir Claudius, I expected anyone would take my daughter’s gift and use it to his or her advantage, yet at her disposal. You are merely the first person to ever know about her.”

“Why would I want her gift? I have a gift already! And on top of that—gold, potions, a castle, fine china, the whole lot of it!”

“Then you would spoil her!”

“Why would I spoil her?!”

“Because she is young and naïve! She doesn’t know about the world! You will use her for your admiration and attention, if nothing else.”

Sir Claudius broke apart. All the flames that had been rising died at once. He hung his head.

“There. That is all you ever wanted. A fresh face to look at,” the woman spoke, preying on his silence. She sat back in her chair, rustling her feathers, and sipping her tea. 

Sir Claudius held his cup between his knees. His black locks covered his twisted, tormented face. “What would you have me do, Mrs. Everleigh?” he asked in a battered, bruised voice.

“Do not tell Athena of what has occurred. She doesn't know I have read your book, nor does she know I visited this morning, understood?”

“Yes.”

“Good. And I don’t know that she works here, correct?”

“Correct, Mrs. Everleigh.” 

“Very well then. We are finished here.” She left without another word—her teacup on the table, half-empty.

Chapter 15: Chapter XIII - Roses are Red, Thorns are Green

Chapter Text

Sir Claudius slumped in the chair, his palm open and his fingers round so as to hold a teacup. But he grasped only air. His mouth hung open as if to drink from the cup. But all he drank was air. 

The teacup faced down on the carpet beneath the table. 

The Grandfather Clock struck 10 a.m., billowing throughout the castle on waves of air. Seconds ticked away inside of him—each beat of his heart equaled one, and the opening and closing of his lung flaps equaled two. 

Many years before, in the cave of his ancestors, Sir Claudius’s family told him of “overburn”. Too much fire in a forest, all at once. It took years for the forest to replenish itself, which was not the goal of their clan. Trees fell down, leaves and seeds extinguished, and the blue sky remained lost above the hanging mists. No flora or fauna could survive in such wreckage, which was why their clan planned fires on days when the rain came. 

No rain came for Sir Claudius on that electrifying blue morning, wherein hawk eyes flashed and hawk talons shocked their prey—immobile, not able to shriek in the midst of storms caused by heat, without sprinkles of rain and soothing, sheltering clouds. 

For years, he never once had rain. No rain had ever slapped the stone hanging above his castle. No rain ever trickled down the sides, seeping in through windows and traveling along the panes and scooting in between the cracks. It never reached him, never calmed his burning heart, full of stories and affection and ferocity.

But this time his fire became too great. It consumed his body, mind, and soul, singeing his clothes and snipping at his locks of hair. Too many days and nights he thought of Athena and thought of a rose at the same time. Framed so delicately and yet so boldly-colored. He thought of her soft words, petals falling from her pink lips and into his palm, and then her harsh words, thorns pricking his glove as he tried to pick her. Sometimes she was a serene riverbed with moss dangling below its bank, or a morning dewdrop on a rose, or a kitten lapping its tongue over a brook. Other times she was a whip of thorns, piercing his skin. But whether wet roses or whips, Sir Claudius remained thirsty. Too thirsty. 

“That woman… She couldn’t have been more right.” 

~❦︎~

After thirty more minutes of watching the air move, Sir Claudius arose. 10:30 a.m. He slid up the winding stairs, leading to his Master bedroom, when, glancing out of the indentation in stone—a slight window—his eyes caught movement. A young woman was out in his gardens. 

“Athena…”

The man rushed down the stairs, almost tripping on the final one, and flew all the way to the main entry doors. He yanked them apart, and the sun tore into his eyes. One hand went up, then the other, a shadow falling over his alabaster skin. He then slid his dark hood over his head. One foot in front of the other. He had not heard the sound of his feet shifting over pebbles in so long…. 

“Miss Everleigh!” Sir Claudius called, echoing over the small hill and spreading out into the gardens.

“I’m over here, Sir!” she replied. He followed her sound.

“Miss Everleigh, I did not ask you to tend to my gardens,” he spoke, his eyes trailing over her tools and the fallen flowers she had snipped. Everything was covered in white, like fresh snow—reflecting the glinting sun. 

“I know, Sir. But, you did not answer the door at 9 when I arrived… and they were locked. I did not know what else to do, so I went to that small barn over there, took hold of the tools, and began weeding.”

“Oh…” His eyes moved to the tips of his black boots, white now. “I apologize, Miss Everleigh. Please continue with your gardening.” He turned, dragging his feet back to the main entrance.

“Wait!” Athena shouted, gripping the shovel in her hand, rising. “Come back.” She then sat down in the same spot. The bottom of her pale pink dress—the color of the first rays of dawn—spread out across the pebbles like water, covering each crevice and crack.

Sir Claudius frowned, yanking the top of his hood over his eyes. He trodded on over.

“Sir, I must confess something,” she spoke as he arrived.

The man almost began to run at the words but stopped in his tracks instead. “Co—confess?”
“Yes.”

“Confess what?”

“I—I haven’t been entirely honest with you.”

His head fell away from her figure.

“I have greatly enjoyed working here. It has been wonderful for my family, as I have been able to provide plenty of meals. We are starving no longer.” 

Gold is the only reason you enjoyed working here? Nothing more?

“But, I… am afraid.”

“Afraid? What on earth have you to be afraid of?!” His voice rose.

“I’m sorry, Sir Claudius,” she whispered, tilling the ground.

“Is this about your mother? Did your mother…” He trailed off, then began walking backward, unknowingly retracing his steps.

“Did my mother… what?” Athena batted her eyes, like a young bird attempting to escape from a cage.

Sir Claudius tightened the cloak about his shoulders, then stared the young girl down. “Did your mother find out about your being here?”

“No, Sir… Not yet.”

He sighed, hot breath mixing with the steam of the skies.

“But… I am afraid that she will find out. And more than that—that other people will find out.”

“Miss Everleigh, I am in contact with no one else except you. You are the first person I’ve talked to face-to-face in over twenty years.”

“Sir Claudius—I am not meaning to be disrespectful in any way—but I have known you for hardly a month now. I do not know if I can trust you just yet. These are the thoughts that have been whirling through my brain for the last day or two! No one else knows I am a púca, save for you and my mother! I’m not so much worried about my abilities being taken away by the benevolent púcaí now as I am the villagers finding out that I have powers.”

Sir Claudius lowered his head again, breathing flame, in-and-out.

“On top of that, I only just learned that you are a dragon! Now I must keep your secret, too! And frankly, I’m losing the capacity for the number of secrets that flutter about in my head all day!” She dropped the shovel and crossed her arms. “I am not angry, Sir Claudius, just—upset… I told you several days ago I was ill with pretending! Ill with secrets and lies! I want to be through with it all, but I can’t now. Not with the knowledge that you are a dragon and I am a púca…” Tears welled up in her eyes, like the tide rising at noon and midnight. 

“Miss Everleigh, I am sincerely sorry… I did not know that you had such conflicting feelings about working here.”

“It wasn’t evident all along? I said I hated to pretend, and yet I was pretending the entire time!”

“Are you pretending now?”

She wiped a tear away and sniffled. “I’m not sure anymore. I feel as though I’ve forgotten who I really am. Or if I ever was anyone at all.”

“I feel the same way sometimes…” He knelt on the ground, stooping to her height.

“You?! Oh, stop that blabber!” She wiped her nose on her sleeve, turning her cheek to him.

“Whatever do you mean, Miss Everleigh?” he asked. “I have lived in isolation for longer than you have been alive… What did you expect?”

“But how can you?” She shook her head, eyes wide and watery. “You write so beautifully, translate so wonderfully! You have such a marvelous mind that I only wish I could have… I’ve read all of your book—”

“Since yesterday?”

“Oh, I couldn’t put it down, Sir Claudius! I stayed up all night, reading.” She blushed, primping her skirts. Trains of golden honey fell into her freckled face. 

“You are a radiant reader then!” He lifted one of his gloved hands, gesturing to her forehead. 

“Oh, hush!” She pushed his arm down and pursed her lips, dimples seeping into her fair skin. 

He chuckled. They then both grew silent. The wind rustled throughout the bushes. Athena’s hair flowed with the wind, sticking to the rose bushes every now and then. Sir Claudius would pull them out and they would smile at one another for a moment before sifting their fingers through the ground pebbles. Sir Claudius’s locks weighed far too much to flow in the wind, and instead stuck to the back of his cloak. Athena had never seen him bathed in such sunlight before, and his face reminded her of planks of wood, one laid right after another. So tall and lean and arched were his cheekbones—set deep, yet appearing high. The scar across his eye begged for her attention, but she evaded it. 

“Athena?”

“Yes, Sir Claudius?”

“Don’t you think the roses are lovely?”

“I do, but not for the reason you think they are lovely.”

“And for what reason do you think they are lovely?”

“I think roses are lovely not because they are delicate and beautiful, but because they are red.”

“Red?”

“Red is my favorite color, alongside deep greens—the deep green of thorns.”

He sat, astonished, his eyes falling from hers. “I thought that… blue and pink were your favorite colors? Or silver, even! You wear them all the time.”

“No, blue and pink are my mother’s favorite colors. She wants them to be mine, too.”

“Oh… Why red and green then?”

“I’m not sure. Maybe I’ll find out one day. Maybe it will be the same day that I realize why I keep coming back here each week, even though it’s dangerous.”

“I thought it was for the gold.”

“It is… but, that is not the only reason. I’m just not sure what the reason is yet.”

“Well, when you find out, I’d love it if you would let me know.” He grinned. 

She looked back at him, and the roses of her cheeks blossomed. “Of course, Sir.”

Chapter 16: Chapter XIV - Aunt Helena

Chapter Text

Athena watched from a distance, her eyes following the other children as they chased after one another with sticks. Two girls in beige skirts and shoes ran by herthey turned their heads for a moment, catching a glimpse before giggling and playing once more. 

Carts and buggies passed by after the girls, and the horses neighed at her. She winked. 

Three schoolboys came by after that, sticks in hand. They approached Athena. Her smile fell.

“Aye, whatcha doin’?” the taller one asked, his auburn hair covered in dirt specks. 

“Notin’,” Athena replied, scraping her finger in the dirt.

He whispered to the other two boys. They stared, impatient as rats in the midst of a cellar. 

“So, are ya da girl dat talks ta animals?” 

Athena nodded.

They heaved over in rapturous laughter, holding their thin bellies. As they walked away, Athena stuck out her tongue. 

“Athena! Come here, young miss!” 

The girl flared her nostrils and tightened her fists. “What is it?” she asked, rising and turning to face a short yet plump woman, who could have been mistaken for a fat, juicy raisin with her layers of dark purple robes covering rolls of fat. When she spoke, spit launched from her dark red mouth, dripping off her rotten teeth and falling to the ground. Detailing the lines around her lips were moles; Athena thought she saw one staring at her, the one with a hair poking out of the middle.

“I’m in the store for but two minutes and you’re already misbehaving! Why did you stick out your tongue at those young gentlemen?”

Athena shrugged, clutching her right arm.

“Oh, just wait until your father hears about this! Perhaps he will let me teach you a lesson. Young miss, you must learn to behave one of these dayseven if you are only ten. I don’t care how old you are, you must act proper. Speak when you’re spoken to! Don’t just sit there and shrug your shoulders and give that glum look to people. I’ll not have my niece acting with such impropriety

~❦︎~

“Athena!”

The girl’s head popped up, her hair flapping like wings alongside her ears. Father stood in the doorway of her bedroom.

“Yes, Father?”

“You have another letter from your Aunt Helena demanding a visit. Shall I write a reply denying the offer?” 

Athena shuddered, her hair falling over her eyes. She took the covers of her bed and wrinkled them up in her hands. “No.”

His eyes doubled in size. “N-no?” the man stammered. “As in ‘no, I won’t go’?”

“As in ‘no, I will go.”

“Athena!” he gasped, shutting the door behind him and rushing to his daughter’s side. He laughed for a moment. “Darling, but you have such a lovely life here,” he gestured to the dank, rotting walls. Cringing, he asked, “What made you change your mind?”

“Perhaps it’s time I did learn to be a lady, Father. I’m sixteen now.”

“But, Athena, aren’t we forgetting something?” He took her hand and began patting it. 

She sighed. “I will ask Sir Claudius if I may visit family in Dublin and see what he says—”

“But your payment has already been docked!”

“Father, you know just as much as I do that we have plenty of gold to last this family for months. Sir Claudius is a generous man.”

He scratched his beard, staring out the window, his eyes following the falling spring flowers.

“Besides, once I go and visit, we won’t have any more bothersome letters from her ever again!” Her pretty teeth glimmered in the sunlight from the window.

“I believe you’re right, daughter, but—” he stammered. “How long do you intend to stay?”

“Until I become a lady.”

Chapter 17: Chapter XV - Farewell

Chapter Text

Soap bubbles burgeoned out of the tub of water. They flew up into the air, twinkling in the torchlight. All the colors of spring and pastels and rainbows—likely never seen before in the castle—bounced about in the soapy circles. 

Athena wet her rag, drowning it a few times in the tub before picking it back up and rolling it over the floor. The girl sprawled out on her knees, and every minute or so, her hair swooped over her shoulders and landed in the tub. The tips of her honey curls became a drenched dark brown. Each time, she huffed, threw her rag across the floor, pulled her hair to the back, and poked it down into the hem of her dress. Water, soap, and sweat trickled down the inside of her gown, prickling her lower back. She then grabbed her rag and began rolling it over the floor once more.

After several minutes, the girl reared up onto her knees and massaged her lower back. She threw the rag down and dust launched into her nostrils. “Mary an’ Joseph!” she yelled, wiping her nose with her sleeve and staring down the wet rag. “No one likes ye anyway!” 

Cold laughter poured into the hallway from the common room. Athena’s cheeks flushed and her ears pricked. The white hairs on her arms and neck stood as tall as trees. 

“Hollering at the rag, are we?” 

Athena spun around. Leaning on the doorframe of the common room, novel in hand, gloves pulled as tight as possible on his muscular forearms and hands, was Sir Claudius. A grin crept onto his silver snake face. 

“You should let me know when you are spying on me, Sir Claudius.”

His cheeks puffed out, then he leaned back so far in laughter he nearly dropped the book. “Spying?!” 

“Yes!” She gave into laughter as well. “If I hadn’t known you were here, I could have made an even bigger fool of myself!” 

“More than you already did?”

“Of course.” She turned her body to face the withered rag, but her glowing, moonlit eyes remained latched on him. “You don’t know what I’m capable of.” Athena batted her eyelashes.

Sir Claudius gulped, tossing water on the flames roaring inside of him. His rib cage was a massive forest of evergreens, burning down. “I cannot argue with your logic, Miss Everleigh.” He bowed. “I shall forgo my ‘spying’ now.”

“Don’t go!” He lifted his head, hair falling over his forehead and eyes. Athena faltered, crossing her thin, pink arms. “I have to tell you something.”

He straightened. “And what would that be?”

“My Aunt Helena… I don’t believe I’ve spoken to you about her… She has always wanted me to come and spend time with her and her two daughters in Dublin. I have always declined these requests until now….” 

Sir Claudius lifted his brows and bit the insides of his cheek. “For how long?”

“Well, I only planned to go if you allowed me to, Sir. That was the reply my Father sent this morning.”

The man turned away, facing the common room. He pressed one of his palms against the doorframe, and the other fell at his side, still clenching the book. “How long would you like to visit, Miss Everleigh?” he asked—a gruff, broken sound lurching out of his throat.

Athena pinched her curls. “I-I wanted to stay until she felt that I was… a lady. A proper lady. She wants me to enter into society, Sir.”

“Yes, but do you want to enter into society?” 

If only I could see his eyes….

“I do, Sir.”

“You lie.” The man spun about, trudging toward the girl—he towered over her and she cowered under him. “I thought you loved this land. You said so yourself! You love your family and want to care for them! You love— You love working here and being with me!” The flames in his eyes spread to his sockets, singeing them to pieces. Burnt flesh tore off his face. 

Athena stepped backward, breathing heavily, shoving tears into her eyes, trying not to blink. “Sir, please, I won’t go if you don’t allow it.”

“But you already said so yourself: you want to go. You want all the lovely things this world has to offer. And I know you. You will do anything to get what you want—even lie… lie to me.”

“Sir Claudius, I would never—”

“You already have! Don’t act like you didn’t lie to me—”

“It was only to protect my secret!”

“Even so! You lied to your parents!”

“Sir Claudius, I won’t go! I won’t go. I won’t go.” She walked the other way, repeating the words, shaking. She picked up the tub, spilling great slabs of water out as she sped to the supply room. 

The man laid the book on the stone floors, following her. “Miss Everleigh, wait!” He sprinted to the supply room, reaching out for her dress. “Miss Everleigh, I- I… I’ve been such a fool!” He held her skirts in his hand, his face tearing apart, his mouth splitting open. 

“Sir Claudius, I won’t go. I won’t. Nothing more needs to be said.”

The man let go of her skirts, clearing his throat and recomposing himself. “I apologize, Miss Everleigh.” He choked the flames back down into his chest and stomach. 

“It is… fine, Sir.”

He stared at his shoes.

“You really want to go…?”

“Yes, Sir.” She nodded. 

“Why?” he asked, his heart in his throat. 

“I don’t intend to be gone for terribly long, Sir. Only long enough to enter society—”

“Which could be months….”

Athena rubbed her arms then pressed her palms into her skirts, where Sir Claudius’s hands had been.

“I intend on coming back home.”

“Miss Everleigh, once you enter society there, you shan’t return….”

“And how would you know?” she asked, biting.

“Because I did it!” he snapped. “I once had a home in Dublin! I was in society, too! I had friends and money and a life! For God’s sake, the only reason I moved back here was that I don’t age!” The castle walls rumbled. Smoke filtered out of his nose. “I didn’t come back until people started whispering about me. I didn’t want to leave Dublin. I still want to be in Dublin instead of in this old, rank castle!” He gestured to the stone walls, hundreds of years old. “I want to be telling stories and writing plays and socializing but… I can’t.” He huffed, ashes escaping his nose and mouth. Athena leaped back, her pretty pink shoes dancing about on the floor. “I don’t want you to leave, Miss Everleigh, because…” He squinted, blinking slowly, then opened his eyes—they reminded Athena of her own, on late nights when the seas crashed into cliffs and dogs and wolves howled, and she was entranced by the moon, and the moon became her eyes and her eyes became the moon. 

“You don’t want me to leave because you have no one else to be with.”

“Yes.” His eyes were like the reflection of the moon in the ocean—glassy and rippling. “But, just because I don’t want you to leave… That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t.” 

Athena held a hand up to her mouth. “Sir Claudius, my place is here.”

“No, Athena, you don’t know enough of the world to know where your place is,” he corrected. “It is selfish of me to expect you to remain here for your entire life.”

The girl smiled, exasperated. “So, I can go?” 

“Yes, Athena, you may go—only if you promise me something first.”

“Anything, Sir!”

“You will write?”

“Every day!”

“I shall write you then every day as well.” He grinned, ever so slightly, but his eyes remained broken in two. “I apologize for how foolish and selfish I have been. You are young and need to see the world. You need to be out in society, if you so wish.”

“There is no need to apologize. You have already done so much for my family and me. We have enough gold to live plentiful lives for months and months!”

“Oh, Miss Everleigh!”

“Yes?”

He ran in the opposite direction, back to the common room. “Just one moment!”

“Oh, alright!” She clutched her arm.

Upon his return, he held a sack full of gold coins and a small letter. “What’s this?” she queried, eyes wide.

“Open it.”

She tore open the letter and her eyes grazed over it. Once finished, the girl exclaimed: “Oh, Sir Claudius, you are so kind to me!” 

She took him by the hands, and he stepped back but soon returned. He caressed her palms, hoping he would have them again someday, perhaps for his own. 

And, to Athena’s surprise, his gloves weren’t black stone to be shaped by a blacksmith, as she had imagined, but rather were like the pelts of two soft black dogs she had encountered on a walk into town one day. 

He leaned over and ran his thumbs over her knuckles, bringing them up to his purple lips. Athena melted under the intense heat that spewed out of his mouth. Steam traveled up over her hands and arms, as though he were kissing her hundreds of times, all over. She closed her eyes, feeling the color red, the color purple, the color yellow, seeping into her, rising into her body from where his lips touched her skin.

His lips parted; he stiffened and rose. “I have sincerely enjoyed getting to know you over this past month, Miss Everleigh.”

Athena opened her eyes. “What?”

“I have enjoyed getting to know you… Miss Everleigh.”

“So have I….” She blinked, her mouth ajar, lost in his eyes. 

“Until we meet again. I will finish the rest of your duties for today. When you return in a few months, I hope we can continue your apprenticeship.”

“I want nothing more in the world, Sir.” He tried to let go of her hand, but she would not budge. 

“Miss Everleigh, it is almost time for you to go home. I wouldn't want your—mother to be worried about you.”

Athena creased her eyebrows. “Sir Claudius, I-I-” she swallowed. “I apologize for taking up so much of your time.” Her head fell.

“And I apologize for taking up so much of yours. Good day, Miss Everleigh.”

Chapter 18: Chapter XVI - Letters for a "Friend"

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Dublin, IE., June 10, 1905. 

My dearest friend,

                        I sincerely hope that Dublin is treating you well and that you have settled in with your aunt by now. I must admit that two weeks without any company has been dreadful, but I know that I will hear your sweet voice again someday. 

        I wish to formally apologize for my behavior during our last meeting. It was rude of me to assume that you longed to both remain a housekeeper and provide for your family throughout the remainder of your girlhood. Not only that, but my conduct toward you was in poor taste. 

        These two weeks alone have provided a time of reflection, wherefore I have recognized the wrongness of my actions. If you can find the will in your heart, do forgive me.

                        Best regards, 

                                Sir Claudius

Sir Claudius,

        Beochaoineadh Castle, IE.

~❦︎~

Dublin, IE., July 25, 1905. 

My dearest Miss Everleigh,

                                        How are you finding the society in Dublin? I would ask you to call on a few friends of mine from many years ago, but after careful thought and consideration, I’ve decided it has been too many years ago that they were my friends. Therefore, please do not ask around if anyone once knew of a “Sir Claudius.”

        I recall the best times I had in Dublinexquisite parties, food, dances, social gatherings. And always, I wish I could have stayed for the night festivities, but unfortunately, due to my unhappy disposition, I could not stay. I always took the lonesome ride back to my castle afterward. It was not very longnearly twenty kilometresbut long did it seem. 

        I hope that you do not have to ride twenty kilometres on a rocky road before sunset while in Dublin. Enjoy all the balls and dances you possibly can, while you can.

                                                                               Best wishes, 

                                                                                              Sir Claudius

Sir Claudius,

        Beochaoineadh Castle, IE.

~❦︎~

Dublin, IE., August 17, 1905. 

Dear Miss Everleigh,

                        I was expecting a letter or two from you by now, but I understand that you likely are enjoying yourself too much to writeeither that, or there has been a significant mailing issue. If you receive this letter, at the very least reply with a few words on how you are doing. I do not mind that you have not been sending them every day (as you promised), but I do care for your wellbeing. 

        As for myself, all is as well as it can be. I have been sifting through old journals and potion books in your absence, deciding what to first teach you on your return. I do not believe I ever informed you of this, but every dragon in my clan has a “trade” so to speak. My father before me worked in spellstherefore, I chose a similar path in life. Not only to appease him but also because I simply enjoyed making potions. 

        I do not wish to rush you, but, if you can, either send me a letter informing me of your state— or come home to me and tell me in person.

                        Cordially, 

                                Sir Claudius

Sir Claudius,

        Beochaoineadh Castle, IE.

~❦︎~

Dublin, IE., September 30, 1905. 

Miss Athena Everleigh,

                                These days without hearing your lovely voice, without seeing your dresses skirt across the hallways, and without even one letter from you have beento say the leastexcruciating. 

        The castle is not nearly in the state of disrepair that it was before you began working as my housekeeper, but the amount of dust is rising with each morning sun. I have attempted to clean myself, but with little to no results. I do not have the skills and knowledge of housework as you do. 

        Please, Miss Everleigh, if you can, write. If not, I shall don a disguise and venture to Dublin myself to find you. 

                                Sincerely, 

                                        Sir Claudius

Sir Claudius,

        Beochaoineadh Castle, IE.

~❦︎~

Beochaoineadh Castle., October 23, 1905. 

My dearest friend,

                        I apologize for not writing, Sir. I have been terribly busy. 

        Please do not venture to Dublin in a disguise, for I will return home very soon.

                        Regards, 

                                Athena

Miss Athena Everleigh,

        Dublin, IE.

Notes:

I researched proper formatting for letters from this time period, but I am sure there are mistakes. Feel free to private message me or comment on what needs to be fixed.

Chapter 19: Chapter XVII - The Picture-Perfect Gown

Chapter Text

Everything in Dublin was gray—unlike Athena’s tiny hometown, where everything was brown. The horse carriages; the muddy, rocky, wet streets; the people; the clothes. It was all gray, mists everywhere, with people hurrying about while thunderstorms clapped over their heads. Perhaps that’s why Aunt Helena liked it so much—because it was becoming like London.

Athena followed suit behind her aunt and cousins, her pupils tracking the swivels of deep gray and purple robes streaming down her aunt’s back. The robes and ribbons billowed, bouncing up and down on the mucky walkway, though somehow not the least bit wet. The girl’s cousins—Margie and Rubina—traveled on the left and right side of their mother. Margie stuck her nose in the air, eyes shut tight, lips painted and cheeks pinched red, while Rubina’s eyes grazed over the horse carriages, preying on the youthful men riding therein. Athena noted how the young men in the carriages tensed their shoulders, wrung their hands together, and blushed after Rubina smiled and nodded at them. 

Not one of them spoke a word. Athena dared not lift her head from her aunt’s frame, afraid she would turn down a wrong alleyway or step in front of a horse carriage if she strayed too far. 

“Ooh… Mummy, look!” Rubina pointed at a shop on the street corner. “I’ve never seen it before. It must be new! May we go in, please?!” the girl begged. She bounced up and down like a toddler, although she was a couple of years Athena’s senior. If I were bouncing up and down in such a manner, Aunt Helena’d have my head, Athena thought, groaning silently.

“Of course, darling, as long as you take your cousin in there with you. Remember, she is not familiar with the town yet, and we don’t want her getting lost, now do we?” Aunt Helena grinned, turning to face Athena, her lips the color of dark blood—so red it was purple. 

“Yes, mother!” Rubina called, taking Athena and Margie by their hands. “Let’s go, shall we?”

Margie broke away from the grasp and declared, “I shan’t go in. I prefer to run errands with Mother.”

“Fine, have it your way.” Rubina glared at her sister. “Athena and I will have all the fun then.”

Margie and Aunt Helena disappeared into the street fog—two black forms becoming less and less black with each step until they merged with the gray. Rubina grasped Athena tighter around the wrist and carried her into the store. Athena blew in the wind like a ragdoll. 

Once in the shop, and free of her cousin’s grasp, Athena dusted herself off and rubbed her wrists, relieving the pain. 

“Oh… my!” Rubina exclaimed, dancing around the shop.

“What is it?”

Athena looked up for the first time that morning.
“Isn’t it wonderful, Athena?!” 

The girl walked as her mother on morning strolls—breathing in the air of the shop just as her mother breathed in the air of the forest. That fresh scent, not of flowers and tree sap, but of linen and brand new clothes. 

“Athena? Are you alright?”

“Yes… It’s just—I’ve never seen such lovely gowns before.” 

“Oh!” Rubina smiled, closing her eyes and her cheeks filling with a deep red color. 

Eventually, both young women pranced around the shop, trying on every dress—no matter the color, size, make, nor embellishments. The great majority of gowns garnered inspiration from the fashion of France, with slim fits and high necklines. Colors of all kinds, like bursts of butterflies in the forest when you brush past trees, glimmered throughout the shop. Everywhere Athena stepped, new colors splashed in her face. Most were the colors of spring—blues, pinks, and yellows—with it being early June. For the first time, Athena felt at home in Dublin.

“Oh, Rubina, I would just love to buy one of these!” Athena exclaimed, swiveling around in a dark pink, almost red, dress.

Rubina laughed. “Athena, there is so much you must learn.”

Athena’s smile fell; she let go of the skirts of the dress. “What do you mean?”

“You must learn how to shop with Mother! She has plenty of money to pay for whatever dress you want or however many you want! But she only buys the one she thinks looks good on you—even if you don’t like it.” 

Athena smirked, trotting around like a filly, glancing in all the mirrors of the shop. “Her money means nothing to me. I’ve got money of me own,” she spoke, fixing her honey ringlets and staring into her bright blue eyes. 

“Really?” Rubina placed her hands on her hips. “From whom? Surely your father isn’t paying for it?”

Athena curled her face up, wrinkled her nose, and dug her fingernails into her gown. And to think, I had only just begun to like her… Now I remember why both Margie and Rubina are spoiled, selfish

“Mademoiselle! Mademoiselle!” a man shouted in the distance, a very French man. “Please, I beg of you! Do not ruin that fabric with your nails.” 

Athena lifted her eyes from the mirror, turning around to find a medium-sized and middle-aged man, with long arms like a tape measure or a thread. His pants were pulled up to his waist, fitted perfectly around his midriff, and his blonde, luscious hair fell neatly over his scalp. He wore a long yellow piece of measuring tape around his neck as though it were a shawl. The man was not particularly muscular, except for his hands, which had seen many years of tailoring. 

“I apologize, Sir. I did not realize I was doing anything.”

“It is no problem, mademoiselle!” he called, breathing in a sigh of relief. “That is an expensive fabric.” He bowed, then adjusted the tape around his neck. “Now, what can I do for you two young angéliques this morning?” 

“We were only browsing the shop. I’ve never seen this—”

“I would like to purchase a custom-made gown, Sir.”

“Athena!” Rubina pulled her cousin to the side, whispering, “What are you doing?”

The man cleared his throat, hushing Rubina. “Oh, it is no problem, mademoiselle! I have designed plenty of custom-made gowns in the past! Do not fret.” The man trotted over to the girls. “Please, call me Henri,” he spoke, his “R” gurgling in the back of his throat. The man then placed a kiss on both of their hands but held his lips longer on Athena’s. 

“Why, thank you… Henri. Did I say that right?” Rubina blushed. 

“No, it’s ‘Henri’, without the ‘H’ sound and more like the word ‘on’,” Athena corrected.

“Ooh… what a smart one we have here. You say your name is Athena?”

“Yes..”

“Lovely. Just lovely. I’ve never met anyone with a name quite like that before.”

“Thank you, Henri.” Athena smiled.

“Now then, shall we begin discussing designs for your custom-made dress?”

“Of course!” He motioned for Athena to take his arm, and the girl followed accordingly. Rubina huffed, crossing her arms. Once out of earshot, Athena whispered, “You’ll have to excuse my cousin, Rubina. She is used to being the center of attention.”

Henri burst into laughter, opening his mouth tall and wide. “You’re an honest one then, aren’t you?!” He rubbed his forehead with a handkerchief.

“As honest as I can be.” Athena grinned, though only lifting one corner of her mouth. 

“Now then,” Henri pulled back two sets of curtains, “shall we begin?”

Athena walked into the room of multiple fabrics—satin, cotton, velvet. Ranging from inexpensive to only fabrics royals might wear, the shop had it all. “My, my, what a selection you have, Henri!” she said, running her hands over strands of scarlet material. 

“Thank you, mademoiselle! I purchase only the finest fabrics.” He spoke, leaning onto a table. 

“How long have you been here? In Dublin, I mean.”

“I have just moved from Paris to Dublin, mademoiselle! I had a dress shop there, but had to move here to be with… mon amour.” He glanced off into the distance. “The love of my life is in this town. I left my entire well-being in Paris to come here. Sometimes, love decides the direction of your life for you.” Henri ran his fingers up and down his tape measurer.

“Oh, you must really love her then!” Athena called. 

“Yes, I do,” he said, turning away. 

“What is her name?”

“Her… name? I’m—not sure, mademoiselle….”

“You’re not sure?” Athena furrowed her brows.

“I only met her once… She came to my shop in Paris and I fell in love with her then and there! It was so easy to do because she was so lovely with the way she spoke. So tender with her words. She said she loved dressmaking and complimented me so on my work but—” His eyes fell. “I never caught her name. Only her accent. I knew she was from Dublin. So, I followed her here, hoping she might come in. But I have never seen her again….” 

“I’m so sorry, Henri. Perhaps, I could help you look for her. I will be staying in Dublin for a few months.”

“Do you not live here? Oh, you must live in London! I hear the accent—same with your cousin.”

“No, Sir, I live in a village not too far away from here, but my father is a Londoner, and so is my aunt. They moved here around twenty years ago.”

“Ah… I see. And your mother?”

“She is a native of the village. She knows how to speak Gaelic actually, but I do not.”

“Oh, how interesting.” He looked away. “I digress, mademoiselle. What would you like for your custom-made gown? Colors? Patterns? I have several appliqué you can browse through over here—”

Athena walked in the opposite direction, toward a large book sitting on a shelf. It was open on a page obtaining the most perfect gown she had ever laid eyes upon.

“What about this one?” she asked.

“Oh, that’s just a sketch, mademoiselle. I don’t know if I will make it or not. Besides, even if I started on it this very minute, it would be until October before I finished!”

She pirouetted around to face him, smirking. “October it is then.”

~❦︎~

“Where is the girl? Why is she taking so long?!” Mr. Everleigh shouted.

“It’s the gown, Sir! It will be a few more moments,” Rubina exclaimed from the dressing room.

“Well, the photographer won’t wait forever!” Charles Everleigh floated over to the man, his hands clasped together, smiling. “Please, just a few more moments, Sir. I apologize for taking up so much of your time.”

The photographer sat on an elaborate settee beside his prized possession—an enormous camera, held up by a few stilts, with a blanket covering the lens. He frowned, his long mustache digging into his wrinkles. “As long as you pay me for the squandered time, I’ll take as long as you need.”

Mr. Everleigh’s smile faltered ever so slightly, while one eye twitched. “Rubina! Helena! Athena! Hurry up in there!”

“We are!” Aunt Helena called, not even the slightest bit of panic lining her voice.

The remainder of the family—Margie, Mrs. Everleigh, all the children—sat around on each lounge chair and settee that Aunt Helena’s living room had to offer. Most rested their heads on their chins, but one of the youngest girls leaned up against Mrs. Everleigh, dozing. Isolde petted her daughter’s hair.

Soon, scuffling could be heard throughout the hallways, like pine needles scraping across the floor. Everyone—even the children who had fallen asleep—came alive at the sound of the ruffling skirts. A radiant burst of light, the first rays of dawn, shot out of the bedroom. Red and gold. 

“Annie?!” Each child’s head shot up, rushing to greet their sister whom they hadn’t seen in months. They crowded around the bedroom.

“Ach!” shouted Mr. Everleigh, throwing his hands over his head. “Now we’ll have to wrangle them up, too!”

Margie shot her nose up in the air, huffing at the children’s—and their father’s—behavior.

A silence descended upon the room, like dusk falling over the forest, hushing all the animals. Morning and night echoed at the same time within the same room.

A dazzling red shoe stepped out, prodding the children to move out of the way. Following the shoe were dark red skirts, flowing as smooth as wine straight out of the bottle. Thick layers upon even thicker layers billowed across the floor, bouncing and bouncing, swirling like a storm. A few layers of deep green ribbons spiraled around the red skirts—vines from which the wine grapes fell. The bodice fashioned the finest of appliqué: red roses dancing about in green thorns and vines, in an almost Celtic pattern, like the patchwork Mrs. Everleigh had seen some odd years before, but it was undoubtedly French handiwork. The gown barely reached Athena’s shoulders, pieces of red wine fabric clinging to her bare arms—hardly suitable for a family picture. 

None of the other outfits in the room compared to Athena’s—all drab even in their best clothes. Mrs. Everleigh wore a gown she made herself, looking like a tall old wise tree in the forest. Mr. Everleigh wore a dark, monochrome suit without accents and embellishments. The rest of the children had on the outfits their mother made for them, with the colors she picked for them. And, of course, Aunt Helena, her signature purple; Margie, her deep blue and black; and Rubina, her pastels.

“Ya look like Father o’ Christmas threw up on ya,” Athena’s oldest brother spoke, his lips curled in disgust.
“Oh, hush up!” Aunt Helena shouted, quieting the boy. “Now, did I promise you a lady, or what, dear brother?”

Mr. Everleigh removed his hand from his mouth, his eyes bursting with red. “Athena… you’re all—” he choked, stifling back tears. “... grown-up.” He wiped his face off with his sleeve.

Aunt Helena leaned over, whispering to her niece. “Now, that’s the reaction I was hoping for.” Athena only nodded. 

Mrs. Everleigh stood up from her resting position, striding toward her daughter. “Athena, this highly inappropriate and ya know it. Go put on one o’ da dresses I made for ya, now.” Her eyes tore the dress open like a hawk shredding the guts out of its prey. 

Athena faltered, shaking, crumbling under her attacker’s weight—until Aunt Helena squeezed in-between the two of them. 

“Pardon, dear sister, I approved Athena’s gown.” She spoke without hesitation, as cheerful as a wicked cat after eating dinner, purring. “I believe she is the best-dressed out of all of us in the room, and she should be the best-dressed, after all! This is her homecoming party! Now, let’s all settle down and pose for the kind gentleman, shall we?” She motioned toward the photographer.

After that, the man had had enough, after two hours of waiting and a confrontation. He gathered the entire family up, posed them, and shot the photograph in two seconds. Everyone frowned in it, except Aunt Helena, who wore a slight smile. 

And in the dresser drawer of Athena’s bedroom lie a slip of paper, detailing the instructions she had followed:

 

My dearest friend,

                Take this sack of gold coins and purchase the most perfect gown in all of Dublin town. It must be exactly how you want it, with no influence from anyone elseor else don’t bother to use my money.

                Sir Claudius

Chapter 20: Chapter XVIII - Once Loved and Yet Love No Longer

Chapter Text

Athena sucked in air through clenched teeth as Aunt Helena grazed over the sketchbook. The woman flipped a few pages but continually came back to the roses and thorns dress. 

“I do not see any others in here that I think would look better on you, Athena. You may have this one.” She glanced over toward Henri. “Name your price, good Sir.”

“Oh, Aunt Helena,” Athena lifted a finger, “am paying for the dress.”

Aunt Helena raised one of her thin brows—so light in color that one could only see folds of skin wrinkling on her forehead. “You? How on earth are you going to pay for the dress?” She stifled a cackle.

Athena pulled the sack of coins out of her pocket. “I have—”

Aunt Helena rushed to the girl’s side, snatching the sack from her and peeking inside. Athena had never seen anyone move so fast in all her life. 

“Where did you get this? Who gave it to you?”

The sack’s fabric attracted Henri’s gaze.

Athena froze, drawing in her silvery eyes. Her hands shook. “I—I have been housekeeping.” She looked away, rubbing her arms. If she were in cat form, her tail would have been between her knees, and her ears folded back. 

“For whom?” Aunt Helena leaned in, clutching onto the sack. 

“Ahem…” Athena and her aunt turned to face Henri. “It doesn't matter where the money comes from, as long as it comes, Mrs…” 

“Brookshire.” She dropped the sack in his hand, closing her eyes and smiling. Her plump cheeks doubled in size, almost popping off of her face. 

He counted the coins. “Thank you for your service, Mrs. Brookshire. I shall begin working on the dress once I take Miss Everleigh’s measurements.” He ushered Athena to step up onto one of his platforms in front of several mirrors. She looked at her Aunt Helena, noticing the woman’s thin smile, and faltered on the top step. 

“Ooh! Miss Everleigh!” Henri caught her by the wrist. “Are you alright?” he asked, worry lining his face.  

“Yes,” she spoke. 

He pulled the measuring tape down from around his neck, then held it up to her body, his eyes intense and focused. 

“Athena!” Aunt Helena called. 

“Y-yes?”

“Rubina, Margie, and I will go run more errands now! We will fetch you in a little while.”

“Yes, Aunt Helena.”

The three of them pranced out of the shop, side-by-side, with Aunt Helena in the middle, like a flock of swans. 

Athena sighed once they were gone, bowing her head in relief. Henri lifted his brows and looked at her with empathy. “Wou—would you care to know more about… mon amour?”

The girl smiled and nodded. 

“Well, then,” he said, lifting her arms and pulling the measuring tape around her waist, “where to begin?” He furrowed his brows. “Ah! I know! I already told you about the day we met, but I did not tell you about the day after.” Henri leaned down, planting his knees on the carpet, as he measured her waist and bust. Athena’s eyes ran over the top of his head—his hair was so blonde it was almost white. “The day after I met her, I asked around town: ‘Who was that woman?’. No one knew. No one could tell me anything at all. I became so frustrated that I decided to go to Dublin myself. The love I felt for her in my heart—the way our eyes interlocked—I knew it could not be for nothing.” Henri arose. “Almost finished, mademoiselle.”

“I’m in no rush, Sir.” She patted him on the shoulders. “As I said, I will look for her and ask around. I’ll tell you of my findings at my next fitting.”

“You are too kind, mademoiselle, although you do not have to do it.”

“I insist. A love so strong shan't be wasted….” She looked away, her left eye twitching. 

“What is wrong, mademoiselle?”

Athena hugged her arms, rubbing her hands all the way up to her shoulders. She winced, and her eyes almost shut, but she tried not to close them. Biting her teeth and tongue, blood seeped into her gums. “Henri… I—I feel a great deal of fondness for someone as well….” 

“Mademoiselle, forgive me, but you spoke so softly I could not under—”

“I feel a great deal of fondness for someone as well,” she practically shouted.

“Oh—oh….” His eyes flew back to his work, as quick as two magnets coming together. “If I am intruding, tell me and I will cease my incessant words…. Are you... upset with this man?”

“Yes.” 

“Why?”

“Because he—” She tugged at her skirts.

“Oh, Miss Everleigh, please do not do that! It will ruin the measurements!” 

She let go. “I apologize. It’s just that he—he—can be so frustrating!” Athena threw her hands up in the air and covered her eyes. “Sometimes he is kind and gentle. He is so generous and cares about me—will do anything to please me! Other times, he is nasty and rude. He also has so many secrets! I will bring something up in conversation, and he will shout at me to never speak about the subject matter again. It is not as if I knew it was a sensitive topic. There was no need to hurl words at me!” Boiling water sloshed around in her eyelids. “I’m exhausted… ill of being treated as though I’m just… I’m just….”

“A housekeeper?”

Athena’s head snapped up as she directed her eyes towards Henri’s. “Why would you assume such a thing?” she asked, dumbfounded. 

“The way you describe this man… it sounds as though he is authoritative, much like a master treating his servant. Sometimes it is with gentility, other times with hostility.”

“But I do not want to be just a servant!” she yelped. “I want him to—to enjoy my company.” Her breathing quickened, and her cheeks flushed bright red which intermixed with her brown freckles. “I want him to trust me enough to speak with me about sensitive topics.”

“Mademoiselle, how long have you known him?”

“A little over a month, Sir.”

He began to chuckle. “I’m surprised you made it this far in a month. Give it time, mademoiselle, and he will open up to you.”

“How do you know?” she asked.

“I just do.”

~❦︎~

Mrs. Everleigh perched at the end of the settee, staring into the dining room, watching every move Athena made. Aunt Helena had invited two young beaux Athena courted while in Dublin to her homecoming party.

Athena stood in the middle of the dining room, next to the table, her hands folded neatly at her waist—not at the side, as she generally kept them. When one of the young men joked, she would dip her head, smile—her dimples seeping in—and then look back up at one of them—her eyes flashing in the candlelight. Mrs. Everleigh had never seen her act in such a way. 

“Relax, dear sister,” Aunt Helena cooed, sipping her tea. “Athena is old enough now to court. She has done marvelously well in society. The whole town's talking about her.” The older woman smiled like Devil’s wife. 

Mrs. Everleigh rustled her feathers and flared her nostrils. “I do not want her in society. I know you and Charles do… but she belongs in the village with me!” 

“You and Charles, yes, let’s talk about you and Charles! What a lovely idea!” She set her tea down and ran her long nimble fingers over her skirts. 

“Charles… and I?” She leaned back, the settee engulfing her form, her face gaunt. “There is nothing to speak of about Charles and me.” 

“I mean, how is your marriage? How is raising nine children? I know it must be a hassle. Charles has always been difficult to deal with,” she cackled, throwing her head back, her fat rolls jiggling like a gelatin dessert. 

“Charles and I are just fine,” Mrs. Everleigh declared. Her hawk gaze faltered, for the wind was too strong. 

“That is just wonderful.” Her lips raised, then they fell, just as quick. Aunt Helena sighed. “I so wish that my George were still alive. Just seeing how happy you and Charles are makes me miss him all the more.” She leaned her chin on her palm, gazing out the window, before becoming too curious and looking straight back at Mrs. Everleigh, who had tears rising in her eyes. 

 

I once loved and yet love no longer… I no longer love and yet once loved… once like ocean tides that rose and fell with the moon… but there is no moon now….

Chapter 21: Chapter XIX - The Dirt Pit of Athena's Childhood

Chapter Text

Underneath a deep red, beaded parasol, Athena rested on the carriage seat. She lifted her chin high, and the maroon beads that hung over the parasol’s edges sheathed her pale forehead and eyes. 

“Athena, darling, we are almost home!” her father shouted from the front seat. 

“How lovely it will be upon arrival,” the girl replied, her voice soft, like expensive silk. Her siblings crowded around her—the girls fawning over her gown and new look, the boys staring in disgust. Mrs. Everleigh kept watch from a distance. 

Covering her face with her hand, the woman whispered to her husband, “I do not want the other children dressed in such garb as Athena. We may have the money to purchase these things now, but I would much prefer to make their outfits.”

“I quite agree, Isolde.” Mr. Everleigh perked. “After all, Athena should stand out amongst them.” Then her eyes fell.

The family of ten rolled up the dirt driveway. Athena sniffed, searching for familiar scents and yet finding none. All of the tall blades of grass—like cascading ocean waves—had been snipped away. All that remained was a shallow pool of yellow and green. 

“What happened to all of the grass, Father?”

“Oh, dear Athena, we hired a few men to come and clean up the yard. Isn’t that wonderful?” Mr. Everleigh called, pulling on the reins to slow the horses down.

“Yes, Father, it’s quite lovely and fashionable.” 

Isolde squeezed her wrists together. 

Athena squinted, her eyes sifting through the narrow path that was the driveway. 

“There is a surprise waiting for you, Athena,” Father said.

“How delightful.” She searched and searched for the home she had known since birth—with its strong wooden arches and unbendable door hinges, with its chairs and sofa that were not overly lavish but rather fit the aesthetic of the rest of the house, with its fireplace and garden and kitchen. Where was the house of her childhood? 

“Father, where is home? I do not see it.”

“Athena, we built a new house and tore down the old one. Surprise!”

The girl’s soul sunk down to her feet, out of her toenails, and onto the floorboard of the carriage. The slight tinge of color left in her face after months of staying inside drained at once. She might as well have been a frozen baby, lying in the snow, shriveled up and iced over.

The carriage came to a halt. “Look!” Father pointed to the left, through a thicket in the woods, and into a small opening, where light filtered through. Beyond the thicket was a white house. Athena nodded but did not peer through the hole of white—rather, her eyes tore into the dirt pit of her childhood. A hole of mud and grime was all that remained. 

Father urged the horses to go forward. The carriage moved, but Athena remained behind, climbing out of the grave, her soul reaching for the pit.

“What do you think?” Father asked.

“It’s marvelous,” Athena replied. 

“I’m so glad you think so! It was a difficult decision to make, but I believe it was for the best. I wish to provide the best life for my family after all.” Mr. Everleigh was the only one smiling in the carriage at that moment.

Eventually, the carriage came to a stop. Mr. Everleigh hopped out, helped his wife get down, then helped the children one-by-one. Athena shivered as she walked down the carriage steps. Autumn winds blew her ringlets about, but the rest of her body remained still. Her parasol stood upright, and so did she. 

“Boys, take all of Athena’s things inside, won’t you?” Mr. Everleigh asked. They nodded. He turned to face his prize. “Athena, darling, isn’t it everything you’d ever hoped for?”

“Why, yes, Father. It’s so bright it could burn the f… it could be the sun….” She bowed her head. 

“I thought white was fashionable enough. At least your aunt won’t bully me anymore over the shabbiness of my home!” He guffawed, holding onto his stomach. “Here, you have a room all to yourself! You won’t have to share it anymore with your siblings.” Athena nodded. “Now that you are home and I can speak with you, I do expect you to continue working for Sir Claudius. We may have plenty of gold but I want to continue investing in the future of our family—perhaps opening an account in the bank of Dublin. I think that a splendid idea, don’t you?”

“Father, I do not wish to work for Sir Claudius any longer.”

“Yes, yes…” His smile faded. “I beg your pardon?”

“I do not wish to work for Sir Claudius any longer. We have enough money already and do not need more. I am in society now and my—”

“Athena,” his eyes flashed the color of the surrounding falling leaves, “you must continue to work for Sir Claudius, do you understand?” 

The girl’s eyes remained on the ground. But she immediately picked them up, looked her father in the eyes, and twisted her parasol—without groping her skirts or shedding even one tear. “Yes, Father, I will do as you say.” 

And she did—although her heart and soul and every piece of her that dwelled on the inside longed to crawl out from underneath her skin and scream in defiance.

Chapter 22: Chapter XX - Flames and Secrets

Chapter Text

Pebbles sifted beneath Athena’s feet, making sloshing sounds like murky water in an old pail. It had just rained and was about to rain some more. Today was the first day the girl didn’t transform into a cat to travel to Beochaoineadh Castle; but then, she hadn’t transformed in months. 

She wore a new dress—one her mother had made for her—by demand. It was plain and white and billowy, like clouds, with a silvery ribbon tied around the waistline. Her curls were rolled up in a cloudy gray cloth and fastened down with hairpins, nice and tight. Appropriate fashion for a housekeeper. 

Her legs stiffened, forcing her to walk as a corpse, straining to reach the World Beyond for her judgment. Beochaoineadh Castle’s silver and black walls—the jaws of Hell—sucked her inside. Athena could not see a thing but heard the building breathing: long, slow breaths like a sleeping beast. All was dark—so unlike the castle she had come to know months before—the castle she had once loved and yet—

“So, you have decided to come back.”

Athena lifted her eyes, though she saw nothing. The sound hailed from Sir Claudius, but it was not the soft croon she had stored in her memory—rather, his voice was gruff and cold, unforgiving. 

“Yes, Sir,” she bowed her head, hoping he could see her, somehow… “I have come back to work, as promised.”

She heard footsteps coming down the stairway from the Master’s quarters—slow, in a steady rhythm. “The promise, Miss Everleigh, was not that you would come back, but that you would write.”

The girl winced. “I-I know, Sir. Do forgive me. I’ve been terribly busy.”

“But for months?!” he roared. 

In the black darkness, a small sliver of light broke through—an arrow shooting to its target. It was a flame, traveling out of Sir Claudius’s mouth and into the Grand Hall. Athena shrieked, covered her face, and sprinted out of the way. The flame hit the floor, shaking and shivering on the stone ground before dissipating into the thick air. Then, all was black again. 

Athena sobbed, gasping for air. She trembled in the cold darkness until a familiar gloved hand reached out to her. 

“Athena? Athena?!” Sir Claudius yelled. “Are you alright?” He was shaking just as much as she was.

“Y-yes, Sir.” Her knees buckled and she collapsed on the ground.

“Athena!” he called, groping onto her wrist, his voice breaking. “Did the flame strike you?”

“No…” she whispered. “It only gave me a fright, Sir.”

He sighed in relief. “Thank goodness! I don’t know what I would have done… if it had struck you.” The man’s words trailed off.

“What happened?” Athena asked, coming back to her senses.

“It’s the dragon in me… Miss Everleigh. I cannot control it.” Sir Claudius took her by the hand and assisted her while she stood up. “Whenever I become—unreasonably furious, the dragon side of me will come out. Most of the time, in the form of a flame. I can also summon the flames sometimes on command, but not always.”

“Why?”

“It is a part of the curse, Miss Everleigh. I’m not truly human, you know,” he spoke, as though discussing a rank, filthy animal in a mucky pen. “I’m so sorry, Miss Everleigh. 

“It is alright. You have every reason to be ‘furious’ with me,” she said, monotone and distant—without even a slight hint of charm or glint to her voice. 

“No, it was improper—inhumane—of me to do such a thing, and I apologize. I knew you would not write anyway, so I have no reason to be angry.”

Athena bowed her head, crying silent tears.

“I will light the fire, Miss Everleigh. I know you cannot see.” She nodded her head and he went away to strike the fire. Once lit, Athena promptly sat down in the old chair she had rested in several months before. She closed her eyes, feeling the warmth encasing her form and filling her up. But as soon as she opened them, she wished she hadn’t. The walls surrounding her had black stains on them—and not just stains from mold or rain seeping in through cracks, but fire. Burn marks resided on every wall in sight. Not only that, but the maroon curtains were shriveled up, burnt to a crisp, with only slight pieces of fabric swaying over the windows—just enough to not let any light in. 

“Sir Claudius…” Athena mumbled, twisting her neck, taking in every black, burnt corner of the Grand Hall and common area. 

“I know, Miss Everleigh… I meant to forewarn you of the state of the castle, but could not bring myself to do it, for I knew you were enjoying yourself in Dublin.” 

“Did you do… all of this?”

Sir Claudius lifted his head for the first time, catching a glimpse of Miss Everleigh. He was not sure if it was the lighting of the fireplace or the grayness of Dublin, but for whatever reason, the girl was paler than he remembered. No freckles, no color to her skin—she was almost reminiscent to him in complexion. His mouth hung agape before words fell over him. “Yes, Miss Everleigh, I did all of this.”

She nodded and bowed her head. “I will clean it all up then.”

“I had planned to order new curtains, Miss Everleigh, and a few other things. Unfortunately, the stone walls cannot be replaced, but I’m sure I can do something to fix them.”

“Yes, Sir. Whatever you would have me do, I shall.” 

Sir Claudius stared into Athena’s eyes. They were no longer blue, like the wild, vicious oceans that tore the shore apart—but were silver, like the tame and docile clouds. I’ve frightened her… broken her…. “Miss Everleigh, I know you said you were busy, but is there any other reason why you never wrote? Please, I am merely curious—no longer furious.” He tried looking her in the eyes, sincere and caring, but she would not look back.

Her eyes flew about the room, like a bird trying to escape its cage—all over the stone walls and fireplace and furniture, but never once meeting his own. “I… Sir Claudius, I… was—afraid.”

“Of…?”

“When I went to a dress shop in early June—only a few days after I arrived in Dublin,” she wrung her hands together, “it accidentally slipped out of my mouth that…” Her eyes focused on his boots. “That… I worked for someone.”

Sir Claudius stiffened, a snake caught in the middle of a road with a carriage driving straight toward it.

“I didn’t mean to, honest,” she spoke. “I found a dress I adored, and tried to pay for it, but my Aunt Helena asked me where the money came from…. It’s so hard for me to lie to her because I can never tell what she is thinking… and it just slipped! I didn’t tell her who you were of course, even when she prodded. I asked her to keep it a secret because everyone else in my family believes my father got a new job—when, in fact, got a new job. She kept the secret because she dislikes my father but trusts me. Actually, the more I spoke with her, the more she said that I reminded her of a younger version of herself. But… phew! If it had not been for Henri that one day—”

“Henri.”

“Oh, I forgot! Henri was the man who worked at the dress shop, and he—”

“What did he look like?”

Athena was taken aback. “Oh, middle-aged, with blonde hair. He was a little bit taller than me and much shorter than you… He had wonderful handiwork, Sir. I will bring the dress one day and—”

Sir Claudius raised his hand, hushing the girl. He turned away, his body caving in on itself. “Henri… is alive?” 

Athena’s heart plummeted to the floor, sinking. “Y-yes? Do you… know him?” She leaned back in her seat, clenching her teeth and wringing her hands.

“He was the last apprentice before you.”

~❦︎~❦︎~

End of Part II - The Curse of the Clan

Chapter 23: Part III - Master and Apprentice

Chapter Text

From the fresh age of fourteen, Henri Clermont studied the figures of women. Whether passing by them on the streets of Paris, glancing into the windows of boutiques, or spending ample amounts of time with his mother and sisters, he repeatedly showed interest in their delicate frames. 

The young boy often carried a sketchbook around town with him, detailing the figures of each lady he met. When his family confronted him about his distasteful antics, supposing them to be that of general juvenile intrigue, they found that it was not the frames of women that had arrested him so, but rather their fashions. Every page of the sketchbook was littered with colorful designs, ribbons, fabrics, and appliques a tailor or seamstress could only ever dream about getting their hands on.

Recognizing their son’s gift, Henri’s mother and father arranged an apprenticeship for him, underneath one of Paris’s renowned fashion designers. But it did not last. By the time he was seventeen, Henri was tired of Paris’s fashion scene and decided to move on to other towns, eventually countries. And the only country at the time in Western Europe that caught his interest, latching onto him with its centuries-old handiwork, was Ireland. 

Henri became fascinated by the rich culture and people—but mainly, the fashion—of Dublin’s surrounding villages. The usage of animals and weaves and depictions of tales and stories in clothing and jewelry was something that France’s newer fashions lacked. The ancient culture entranced him, like a spell. And by the time he came of age, no longer a boy with a sketchbook, but a man with his own business on the outskirts of Dublin, he began combining the two cultures. He took France’s newer fashions, prized throughout the Western world, and the traditional weaves and patchwork of Ireland to create something never seen before. The man learned by the fireside, consulting older women in cottages who could have been mistaken for witches. But nevertheless, they welcomed him into their homes since he expressed such an interest in their work—some women even taught him bits and pieces of Gaelic (although he learned to stitch faster than he learned languages). 

Many young women became dazzled by him and his focused brow and charming gaze—and his silky French accent. But he courted not one. If anything, he courted the gowns he made. 

Not only did Henri Clermont become the talk amongst women, but of the entire village. By request, he made menswear, work clothes, and children's clothes. Rising socialites from the heart of Dublin came to his shop to purchase their evening wear, adoring Henri’s traditional spin on French-style dresses. But he also made prices more affordable for dwellers of the small town if they wanted an upscale finish on their everyday-wear. 

The man’s business blossomed, and on the eve of his twenty-second birthday, he received the most arduous request of his life, but for the largest payment nonetheless.

Henri stitched away, right after the shop closed in the late afternoon, working on several gowns all at once. He worked after-hours on the many, many requests, but he didn’t mind because every drop of sweat that poured down his temples was every second more that he was able to do what he loved.

The bell sounded, announcing a customer. Henri called from the back room, declaring that it was after-hours and no customers were allowed.

Silence rang.

The young man put down his work and walked to the front of the shop. A tall, dark figure, wrapped in a cloak, stood at the door. He wore late medieval clothing, with certain elements of fashion not seen in public in at least two hundred years. Henri gazed in amazement, his eyes bulging out of their sockets. 

“I have a request for you, young man,” the figure spoke.

Henri stepped forward, attempting to lift the hood of the figure’s garment with his eyes, but all he detected was a sheer slab of white, almost like a pearl, dazzling beneath. No face. Surely, the young tailor thought, this is Death burdening me with the task of making him a new cloak. 

Not a moment later, the cloaked figure threw a few sacks upon the ground, tied together in small, roped knots. The sounds of coins clinging echoed throughout the shop. Henri Clermont could not refuse such an offer.

“Whatever you wish, monsieur,” he bowed, “I will do.”

Sir Claudius pulled the fabric from over his head, revealing his pale snakeskin, as white as sunlight rising over the mountains and traveling through the ravines. He smirked, his teeth glimmering in the candlelight. “Let’s make a deal then, shall we?”

The figure—in fact, not Death—explained to Henri that he had an old castle he wished to refurbish with stylized curtains, furniture, and tapestries—and alongside that, a wardrobe fitting of his status.

Henri agreed to the gold coins, yet finished the job for a man who would soon become his friend and Master. But, in the year 1883, how long could such an apprenticeship—and friendship—last?

Chapter 24: Chapter XXI - The Tailor and the Professor

Chapter Text

Nothing could have been more hideous than Sir Claudius’s outfit, or so Henri thought. When the strange, cloaked man spoke the word “castle”, Henri pictured vast walls with cascading curtains and lovely furniture. He thought of French mansions and manors and châteaus. But, upon arrival, to both his surprise and disgust, the castle was of the Medieval style, as outdated and dilapidated as the clothes stuck to Sir Claudius’s back. 

“Oh!” Henri gasped.

“Magnificent, no?” Sir Claudius queried, lips upturned with pride. “One of my great-grandfathers built it many years ago. I wanted to keep it in its original form.”

“I see… Monsieur…?”

“Claudius.”

“Monsieur Claudius,” Henri whispered, pursing his lips and squeezing his sketchbook between his palms.

“Now, the only thing I expect from you, Sir Clermont—French, is it?—is to redo the portions of the castle that obtain fabric. The furniture, the tapestries, the curtains, my wardrobe. The rest I must hire an architect, or something of the like, for—unless you know how to repair crumbling stone.” 

“Not in the slightest, Monsieur.”

“I know it may not look the sharpest it’s ever been, but I grew up in this castle and it means a great deal to me. I want to repair it to be as shining as it once was.”

Henri lifted his eyes. “You speak as though you saw it in original form.”

Sir Claudius shivered. “It is mighty cold, don’t you think? Let us enter and I will treat you to a warm fireplace and tea. What say you, Sir Clermont?”

“Indeed, Monsieur, it is cold. I would be glad to join you.” 

Henri followed Sir Claudius inside the grand doors. He wasn’t quite sure if the dastardly winds blew him in or if the great black void sucked him in. Either way, he was in, enshrouded in a cloud of black, a clapping thunderstorm of darkness. 

“I apologize for the lighting, Sir Clermont,” Sir Claudius spoke, his voice streaking like lightning across the black sky. “Or, lack thereof, rather.” 

“It is no problem, Monsieur. Although I would prefer a little bit of lighting so I may see what I am working with, regarding fabrics, that is.” 

Sir Claudius chuckled. “You are strictly business, aren’t you, Sir Clermont? Upon entering, most visitors are sweating to the core and demanding light! But you—” he shook his head, his locks falling over his eyes, “you are completely unphased.”

“What can I say? I am in love with what I do.” Henri lifted a brow. Sir Claudius glanced from a distance, his eyes trailing over the gray streaks of what he thought to be Henri’s face. 

A few moments passed wherein Sir Claudius gathered his senses and trudged toward the Grand Hall. “Follow my voice, Sir Clermont.”

“Of course, Monsieur.” Henri listened for the sound of the boots squeaking across the floor as well as Sir Claudius’s deep, husky, yet somehow soothing and lively, voice. His dark timbre did not match his light, childlike energy. 

Soon, sparks ignited, illuminating Sir Claudius’s black gloves; Henri focused his eyes on each thread of fabric as the gloves rubbed two pieces of metal together. Not even two minutes had passed when flames began swiveling up the side of the fireplace, like a fish swimming upstream, squiggling around to avoiding predators. It was the quickest Henri had ever seen anyone light a fire.

“Now then,” Sir Claudius spoke, “let’s discuss the deal, shall we?” He arose, his tall figure sweeping across the room. Henri felt a breeze tingle his skin, emanating from the swoop of the cape. That must be the thickest fabric I’ve ever encountered, besides animal hide or leather perhaps.

“Yes, let’s.” 

Sir Claudius gestured to a chair across from what appeared to be the Master’s seat. Henri walked over to it, taking in every centimetre of fabric. He scowled as though peering into a pail of dirty water, except this dirty water was offered to him… to drink. 

“Thank you… Monsieur Claudius.” He gripped onto the armrests, easing himself down, hoping not to get caught on one of the many split seams. An animal might as well have raked its claws across the chair. “Do you… live here alone, Monsieur? Any dogs, cats, or children that might be damaging the furniture?”

“Oh, no, Sir Clermont!” Sir Claudius heaved over, groping onto his stomach as he laughed. The fire bathed his canvas face with red streaks. “You have mistaken me for a family man. I might as well be a confirmed old bachelor.” 

Henri sat, puzzled. “But you are so young, Monsieur!”

“Oh, I merely joke. I would like a family, yes, someday. And now that you mention it, a cat would be nice to have around. But no, no one lives with me currently.”

Henri turned around, pointing to the ripped fabric on the chairs.

Sir Claudius scratched his beard, gazing into the fire. “One of my ancestors must have had hunting hounds, Sir Clermont. That chair has been like that since I was a lad.”

Henri nodded. “Well, I will be sure to replace it with entirely new fabric.”

“Thank you, I intended to ask for that.”

“Carrying on,” Henri opened his sketchbook, taking the pen from his blonde hair and jotting down notes, “I always ask my clients what is the reason for coming to my shop, and I would like to know yours, Monsieur Claudius. Tell me your story,” he spoke, his “R”s gurgling in the back of his throat.

Sir Claudius sank down into his Master’s chair, which was wooden and creaked when he shifted.  “The reason I came to you, Sir Clermont, is because I long to re— Enter, I long to enter into society.” 

“Considering your status, I would expect you to have already done so.”

“My status comes from old money, Sir, and that is all. I am not acquainted with the nouveau riche of Dublin, although I’d like to be. My parents left me with the money their parents left them, as well as the wardrobe.”

“I am well aware.” Henri kept his eyes on his book.

Sir Claudius frowned, but diverted his gaze, soon focusing again. “So, my hope is to enter into society with a fresh wardrobe. I would like to begin courting and have a wife by my side within a year or two. If it were my choice, I would keep this wardrobe as I am fond of it, but I know it is old-fashioned and would not be acceptable within society.”

Henri smiled, a small curve seeping into his cheeks. Sir Claudius could hardly see it from his perch, but he saw it. “I am glad to know that we are on the same page in that respect. Now then, for the wardrobe, I am thinking about this.” Henri turned his sketchbook around, and what Sir Claudius thought to be a note was, in turn, an extremely detailed portrait of a black and silver suit. It was perfectly attuned to his body type, with a fit around his large barrel chest and smaller waist. All of the clothes he had ever had were always too large and bulky, making him look like the hunter he never dreamed of becoming. But this, this was slender, slim-fitting, scholarly even. There was an air of sophistication to it, as though he were going to teach in a university or give a speech or present a new line of research. Each line, seam, and cut was as meticulously planned and coordinated as the words out of a book. 

“I… I… I don’t even know where to begin, Sir…” He raked his gloved hands through his hair. His teeth glowed in the firelight and his cheekbones lifted into a look of amazement. 

“Do you love it, or do you love it?”

“Oh, I do, very much, Sir! I am amazed by your abilities. It’s perfect. Nothing more, nothing less.” He leaned back, propping one leg over the other knee, and closing his eyes, content.

“Ah, there will be a lot more on the way, and this is only the beginning. Just a sketch. I haven’t even added embellishments yet.”

Sir Claudius’s eyelids tore apart at once. “Embellishments?” he asked, slight irritation in his voice.

“Yes, Monsieur, is there a problem with that?”

“Yes, I am decidedly against embellishments of any sort. I have seen too many men and women decorate themselves with adornments of all kinds—hairpieces, makeup, jewelry, ‘embellishments’, as you call them. When it comes to their outside appearance, they look to be the most enriched characters, but once you get to know them, they might as well be blank sheets of paper. I have always intended, and still do, for people to see me as a sleek book cover—such as with your sketch. No adornments, no embellishments. Merely a title will suffice. But nothing more. I wish for people to open me up and read me to get to know me.”

Henri’s eyes grew wide and he lowered the book. “Ah, I understand, Monsieur. But, if I may counter…”

“Go right ahead. I enjoy discussions.” Sir Claudius waved his hand for the man to go forward. 

“I understand your concerns over embellishments, Sir. And I agree to an extent, but, after my years of studying beneath many advisors, I have learned that fashion is not meant to cover your personality, but rather enhance it.” 

Sir Claudius scratched his beard, his two fingers creating a “V” shape around his strong chin. “I’m listening.”

“Fashion is a reflection of one’s personality, and on a larger scale, a culture. Fashion is an art, just as language is.” Sir Claudius lifted his brows. “It is a hint, a hint at who you are. I do not have to put embellishments on every single outfit you have, but I would like to do it for a few, to reveal who you are to others. You do not want your future wife to believe that you are a bulky hunter, now do you?”

Sir Claudius pulled his large hunter cloak around him; it may as well have been a winter jacket. “No.”

“Exactly. With a few embellishments, just a few, she will have a slight inclination of who you are.”

“And what do you propose for these ‘embellishments’?”

Henri looked around the room, his eyes searching for the answer. “Well, what do you take interest in?”

“I must confess I do partake in reading and writing. They are my passion, so to speak. I thought of professing actually, at a university in Ireland or England perhaps.”

“You took me for a scholarly man. Why I made the suit.” Henri gave a slight wink.

“Ah.”

“What do you enjoy reading and writing?”

“I study myths and folktales, typically translating them into modern English from archaic texts or other languages. For the past several years, I have focused on dragons.”

“Dragons!” Henri shouted, rumbling the castle walls. “That’s it! That’s what you need. You need both dragon and serpent embroidery. They can be red and gold, and black and silver. That’s your color scheme, maybe a hint of blue with those eyes of yours.” He commenced sketching.

Sir Claudius was taken aback. “Erm… I suppose. I trust you, Sir Clermont, and I am fond of dragons and serpents, but there is a negative connotation attached to the two. Are you sure this is fitting for a man seeking a wife?”

Henri stopped scribbling in his sketchbook at once, lifting the pen to his chin. “I suppose you're right. I’ll just have to make the embroidery more approachable then. The embellishments will be small and hardly noticeable. I can make them beautiful even, with vines twirling around them and through them. Besides, the right woman would not mind such things.”

Sir Claudius grinned.

“Although I…” Henri bit the end of his pen. “I have a question, Monsieur Claudius.”

“Of course, Sir Clermont.”

“I must admit,” he chuckled, his eyes not lifting from the page, “although I am very skilled in fashion design… I have no talent whatsoever with language and advertising. My business is booming in Dublin and the surrounding areas, but I want it to be larger than that. I want to expand it all the way back to France, with multiple shops. But… I have a hard time communicating with people. Fashion, I can talk about all day. However, I find that some of my clients have been put-off by my passion, as they want to discuss other matters and all I want to speak of is fabrics and designs. It’s what I love after all. But I digress, I need help advertising—some way to communicate with the people to make my business grow to what I want it to be. You say you love language?”

“Yes, Sir. More than anything, just about. I—”

“Great!”

Sir Claudius cleared his throat.

“Oh, excuse me. I interrupted you, didn’t I? Pray, continue.”

Sir Claudius wriggled in his chair to become more comfortable, straightening his cloak. “I intended to say that I used to spin yarns—”

“Oh, did you work under someone? I learned from one of the older women around here to—”

Tales! I learned to spin tales.”

“Ah… oh…. I see what you mean.”

“And I see what you mean too,” Sir Claudius muttered under his breath. He coughed into his fist. “I used to stand on the street corners of Dublin and tell tales of dragons from the days of old. People would gather to listen and ask questions. I don’t do it so much anymore though because people don’t really believe in them anymore.” 

Henri chuckled. “Sounds like you need a line of work, Monsieur.”

Sir Claudius shook his head. “It’s not so much that I long for work, Sir Clermont. It’s that I long for interaction, communication. I’m so tired of being cooped up in this castle all day long. I want to go out amongst the people and talk with them.”

“How would you like to do such things for me?” Henri looked up, sincere. It was the first time they had locked eyes. 

Sir Claudius faltered. “I—I’ve never partnered with anyone before… I shall have to think about it.”

“Yes, take all the time you need.”

All of a sudden, a Grandfather Clock sounded throughout the hallways. 

“Oh, dear! The time!” Sir Claudius yelped, his eyebrows knitted together. Wrinkles Henri hadn’t even thought existed appeared across Sir Claudius’s forehead. “It’s time for you to leave.”

“But I haven’t even begun designing the furniture for the castle, or the tapestries, or the curtains! Or anything! Merely your wardrobe.”

“Another day. It is time for you to go, though. Thank you for your time.”

And with that, Henri Clermont was rushed out of the front door and greeted by the faint light of the evening sun. It darted behind the trees of the forest, the last remaining bits of light becoming sibilant whispers until fading into the blue of night.

Chapter 25: Chapter XXII - Sir Monster

Chapter Text

Petals of rain fell against the windowpane. 

Wishing they were petals of roses, Sir Claudius’s broad chest rose and fell. He hated late autumn and its descent into winter because almost every moment of his life for the past twenty years had been a spiraling descent deeper and deeper into winter, with no hope of spring. 

Except for Ath—

But Athena was not refreshing like spring petals, as he once thought. She was stabbing like the summer sun. 

She only wrote one letter, when threatened. One. And much shorter than even the shortest he had written her.

She brought Henri to his attention—Henri who was somehow still alive. In turn, his eyes caught aflame and the monster inside came out.

Even so, Sir Claudius told her the story. The story of their first meeting and the deal they made. Why—he did not know….

The rumble of the rain morphed into what he thought to be a voice: “Sir Claudius! Sir Claudius!” 

Athena’s light, yet firm, calls shook him awake, out of the narration of his mind. He did not move from his point at the window.

“Please, answer me!”

“What?!” He jerked about, exploding, his eyes aflame. “I have already told you everything you need to know about Henri—from his upbringing to the deal we made! Happy now?” He clamped his teeth together, ready to strike at any moment. His blue eyes were the heart of the flame—the hottest, most dangerous part.

Athena backed away, retreating to the Grand Hall, before recomposing herself and facing him. “You—you have not told me—” She looked into his eyes and faltered, shivering. “You have not told me why… you thought Henri was dead….” The girl had remained in his eyes for long enough, her pupils soon darting away to the floor. 

Sir Claudius reached a hand out to the windowpane. He leaned over, putting all of his weight to the balls of his feet, and his hair fell over his face. He traced his fingers along the streaks of cold rain before letting go and breathing in deep. The brooding man sucked all the air of the room into his lungs, leaving Athena with only gasps to take. She held onto the final breath she had taken prior. 

“Athena,” he spoke, no music in his voice at all, no anger either, “one of the stipulations as a housekeeper in this castle—is that there are certain things which are not to be discussed. You know that.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“And if you are not pleased by this stipulation, you have every right to leave.”

The girl gasped, her eyes narrowing. She clutched her heart, ruffling the ribbons of her dress. “Sir… no, I do not wish to leave.” Her voice trembled, like tree limbs shaking in winter storms. “Sir… please….” Athena’s heart ate itself from the inside-out. Her grip tightened.

“Then everything I have told you today is the final time we discuss such matters. Understood?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Very well then. You may return to your duties.”

The man tore away from the window, his cloak sweeping behind him like a shadow. He trudged to the lower portions of the castle. His broad shoulders became smaller and smaller until dissipating into the morning fog residing all throughout the icy castle.

Athena wanted to sink to the floor but instead held herself up by the windowpane. 

~❦︎~

Sir Claudius bolted in through the dungeon doors, the boom echoing throughout the extended hall. He marched straight to his writing desk, took his pen in hand, then flipped through the pages of his journal. Once he found a blank page, he commenced writing:

 

My Dearest Rosethorn,

                        You will never know what you have inflicted upon me. 

            You will never know the hours I’ve spent craving your attention, pacing back-and-forth across the Grand Hall, anticipating the mailboy, yet to no reward.

            You will never know the painstaking moments when I ripped to shreds every piece of fabric and furniture that Henri designed; the agony I persevered through when singeing and scorching the castle’s stone walls—the stone walls I was so proud of upon first viewing hundreds of years ago.

            They are destroyed now, and it is your fault.

            My heart is destroyed now, and it is your fault. 

            By your cowardice, your unawareness, your lack of concern, and your desensitization to the number of letters I wrote, you have caused me to sink into despair.

            And yet, you were—and are—my only stabbing sunlight. My only piercing streak of morning shooting over those rocky cliffs and breaking in through the cracks of my castle. When at night I reside in the dungeons, you are the final dying embers from the fireplace, entering my nostrils and lullabying me to slumber. Even then, after the embers die and before the morning sunrise, you are in my mind’s eye, swirling in golden flashes, all throughout the night.

            Why must you torment and forsake me so? Why must you return only to remind me of times past? Why must you be a rose? 

           You will never read this, I know. But someone—not I, assuredly—wants you to. Wants you to understand what I feel. Wants you to understand the great longing in my heart. The great looming despair in my heart, too. Perhaps that someone is my heart. 

            If only Dublin weren’t blossoming, if only the village weren’t deserting its ancestral roots, if only Henri weren’t banished, if only you weren’t a rose…

            And, if only, I weren’t—

            A dragon.            

                        Your “friend”, Sir Monster

Chapter 26: Chapter XXIII - The Cat Stalks the Dragon

Chapter Text

Athena did not recognize her own face. It was long and gaunt, not plump and fresh. Where were the strawberry cheeks of her girlhood? All deep and pink with freckly seeds dispersed throughout. They were replaced with high cheekbones, pale and bleak. She looked more like her cousin Margie instead of herself. She looked like the women traveling around London or Dublin, strolling along the streets. If she stuck her nose in the air and shut her eyelids, no one could tell a difference. 

Her pupils dilated as she focused on every inch of her face. She stared into the vanity mirror, pinched her icy cheeks, ruffled her golden tresses, and pursed her lips. Even her eyes had lost their shimmer, their distinct shades of blue—like the ocean water. Now they were as gray as the fog laying over London. 

In Dublin, she blended in with the white façades of each man and woman and child, and therefore, thought nothing of it. But in her own small village, she was the lone raw fish in a pile of steaming salmon. Everyone else had red necks and faces, freckles, and tousled hair. But Athena, she fit in as much as her name allowed. Her hair laid in immaculate ringlets along her curved back. Her face was like a new slate of snow, untouched by boots and animal tracks. Her appearance was so unlike that of her people… so unlike who she used to be. 

But these are only halfway your people, echoing voices whispered in her mind—ghosts of the truth. 

The young girl shook her head, beating the voices away. Instead, she latched onto the vanity and glared deep into her clouded eyes. Intense. Red. Blood veins intermixing with white. She flared her nostrils and sunk her nails into the wood of the vanity. Veins burgeoned out of her high forehead as she trembled with newfound rage. Not childish annoyance and selfishness, but rage. The expression she made was not hers—it was the expression of a woman. And though some part of her knew this, she continued to drop her chin and elongate her face, attempting to understand her new appearance, deciding if it would remain.

I went to Dublin to find who I was, and the whole time I thought I was finding a new side of myself—and perhaps I did—but being in the village makes me feel as lost as ever. She wrinkled her brows and her eyes quivered with tears threatening to explode out of the sockets. Perhaps I am no one. Perhaps I am only what Father and Aunt Helena tell me to be. Nothing more…. 

Athena’s arms wavered, trembling. Her grip only tightened around the snow-white vanity; her nails only sunk deeper into the strong wood. 

I don’t know who I am, I don’t know who I am, I don’t know who I am, I don’t know who—

“Annie?”

Athena lurched, hitting her forehead on the mirror, but not breaking it. “Ach!” she yelled. 

“Annie! Are you alright?” The small girl sprinted to her sister’s side, tugging at Athena’s skirts. 

“Yes, little one, I’m fine.” She rubbed her head with blood-red palms. 

“Do you need a wet rag?”

“No, thank you.” Athena brushed her hair with her other hand, pinning down the few out-of-place hairs. “What do you need, little one?”

“Um, um, um,” Athena leaned down onto her knees, waiting, “Father is gonna read us a bedtime story!” Her high-pitched squeals and claps filled the entire room.

“How wonderful!” Athena smiled a thin smile, lifting only one side of her mouth. “Well, you go on then and enjoy it. I’m heading to bed.”

The little girl ended her dancing and clapping at once, and her eyes grew three times larger while her lips extended outward. “But, Annie…”

“Yes?” Athena lifted herself from the ground, stretching her arms and walking toward her expansive canopy bed.

“I thought you might wanna come listen too.”

The older sister stood stiff in her tracks, her arms hanging in mid-air. She asked, “What story is it?”

“It’s about dragons!” The little one jumped up-and-down, holding out hope that her sister would join her. 

Athena’s arms sank. She laid her hands on one of the canopy bed’s posts, leaning her head against it. Tension built up into her face again: her thin brows furrowed and her lips twisted into a tight ball. She opened her mouth several times, breathing in air, then huffing it back out. Her chest rose and fell in short spurts.

“Little one, I’m sorry, but not tonight.”

“Aww…. Why not?!”

“Because—” She faltered, her eyes growing wide. “Dragons aren’t real.”

The little one put her hands on her hips, balling her fists up. “What do you mean they aren’t real? Of course, they are!”

“No, no, they aren’t real. You’ll find out soon enough.”

“But Ann—”

“That’s enough for tonight. Go on and listen to Father’s story. I’ll join another night when I’m not so sleepy.” She faked a yawn. 

The little girl stuck her tongue out, crying, “You’re no fun!” as she marched away down the hall. “I miss the ole Annie, who told me dragons were real!”

Athena choked, spinning about on her heels. She strutted toward the door and watched as the little girl made her way to the family room. After the little one disappeared around the corner, Athena closed the door and slid down it, onto her knees. 

The little one had always been so gullible. Whatever Athena told her, she believed, without a doubt. She always did what Athena told her to do, even if the older sister was using her to get what she wanted. Athena always adored her smiling face and bright eyes, her chubby cheeks and double chin. But now, after several months, the little one had begun to grow up; she no longer believed every word Athena said, and certainly didn’t agree with every word Athena said. The little one had never talked back before. Ever. 

Athena cupped her face in her hands. 

If only I could tell her that dragons are real... If only I could calm her little whirling mind… If only I could have the sisterhood with her I once had….

And, though the girl could not conceive why, Athena whispered aloud: “If only I had never met Sir Claudius….”

If the girl had not met Sir Claudius, she would not have to grip her stomach every single time her insides lurched in fear. If she had not met Sir Claudius, she would not have to clamp her tongue down every time it was brought up in conversation that she worked as a housekeeper. If she had not met Sir Claudius, she would not have to battle her own curiosity when speaking to him. 

But then again… 

If she had not met Sir Claudius, no one in the world would look at her and accept her both as a cat and a girl—an Irish lass and an English miss. If she had not met Sir Claudius, she would not have been able to confide in anyone about her dilemma with her family. If she had not met Sir Claudius, she would never have known that there were other live shapeshifters besides herself.

Athena allowed a small smile to grace her lips as she slid into bed. She stared at the intricate designs of the canopy before drifting off to sleep.

~❦︎~

Nothing stirred late that October night—not a breeze, not a mouse scurrying across the ground, not a tree limb knocking on the window. All the children as well as Mr. and Mrs. Everleigh remained sound asleep in their beds.

Except for Athena.

She fell asleep for a few minutes, then woke back up almost immediately after laying her head down to rest. She stared at the walls, out the window, into her mirror, turning every now and then to face a different corner of the room. 

Athena groaned, burying herself under the covers. “It’s the cat in me,” she uttered, the sound bouncing off the white walls. The girl threw her hands up into the air, slipping out of bed and donning her shoes and coat.

After pacing the room for several minutes, Athena hastened to her dresser drawer, pulled out a sheet of paper and a pen, and commenced writing:

 

Mother and Father,

                        I have gone to the market early this morning, as the baker promised me that if I got there before the bakery opened, I would receive a special treat. I forgot to tell you both yesterday and did not want to wake either of you.

                                                                        Love, Athena

 

“Haven’t lost me touch.” Athena giggled to herself for the first time in months. She placed the piece of paper onto her bed. The girl then skipped over to the window, unlatched it, and hopped out, careful to close it back once outside. 

Athena sprinted to the forest. Upon reaching it, she kicked her shoes off and pulled off all of her clothes. The moonlight on her bare skin invigorated her. She felt alive again. Color returned to her face again, even at night when the world was bathed in black, silver, and white. She huffed, quick breaths moving in and out of her lungs. It was time.

Athena leaped off the cold, stiff leaves, launching herself into the air. She contorted her body into that old familiar shape. 

And after so long, too long, she landed not as Athena, but as Milly. She sifted the freezing dirt between her claws, spiked her tail into the air, and felt the air with her whiskers. The land belonged to her. No predators were around for as far as she could sense. The moonlight and the rushing waters of the nearby brook and all the sleeping critters in the trees and in holes in the ground were completely hers. Milly surveyed her surroundings, noticing every beam of moonlight as they hit the bark of the evergreens. Once she felt it was safe, Milly moved forward at a brisk trot, her paws making no sound, unlike her human feet which would have crushed hundreds of leaves, alerting all the inhabitants of the forest.

She stretched every now and then, giving her limbs a rest. But for the most part, energy coursed through every fiber of her being. Her forelimbs pulled across the freezing ground. Athena had denied Milly for far too long; she was overdue for a release.

Twenty minutes passed under the blue and purple galaxy until Milly picked up a scent on the trail. It was Athena’s from earlier the previous day when she had trekked back from Beochaoineadh Castle. Milly faltered, digging her claws into the leaves and listening to them crunch under the pressure. She curled and uncurled her tail, deciding. 

Finally, Milly made her choice. She did not turn back around to grab her clothes and transform into Athena. There was enough time to do something she had longed to do for months. 

The cat bolted, her four feet lifting all the way into the air before landing again one at a time. The magnificent world above her shone blue, purple, black, and silver, reflecting the Milkyway. She had never traveled this path at night before, but it was an exhilarating experience. Her lungs worked the hardest they ever had. She felt the world spinning around her but she continued to balance her tail and poke her chest straight out, sprinting like the wild cheetahs she had only read about in books. Milly yearned to throw her head back in laughter—the human still in her heart and mind—but knew it would throw her off balance. 

Passing through thickets and thorns, leaping over rocks across a brook, and trudging through frosted leaves, Milly reached Beochaoineadh Castle. Its stone walls rose high above her. She lifted her tiny round head, in awe at its grand stature. She had never beheld it as a cat before, only a human. 

Milly avoided the pebbled driveway entirely, and instead tiptoed through the overgrown gardens. I must tend to these later, she made a mental note for Athena to remember. 

She sniffed, picking up his scent from inside the stone walls. Scouting the perimeter of the castle, Milly sought the entrance to the dungeons. There must be a window or a crack I could slip through perhaps?

And a crack there was, at the back of the castle, likely split apart from many years of harsh winters. Her cat ears perked, as what she thought to be the boom of ocean waves splashing against the shore, was instead a snore.

She found him, at last.

Milly’s pupils dilated, a hunter stalking its prey. She swiveled in through the cracks, her limbs turning to liquid. Easy as walking in through an open gate.

So close. So close. Heard his deep breaths, felt the heat from his breath, his great dragon lungs. Almost there. Almost there. 

Milly crouched down low as she trotted across the floor. Her body scraped the stone. 

And then, there was a shadow. Enormous. Covering the entire dungeon, draping over like a tree five-hundred-years-old, blocking the sun. She paused, staying low, so low, then picked up speed again. She did it several times in a row: running all across the room, stopping, then zig-zagging while getting closer and closer all the while. 

So close. So close. So close. So close to uncovering the mystery. 

And then, a noise. Shifting between her feet. Papers. 

Milly hissed and shrieked, clawing the air. Once calm, she turned to face the dragon, who was still snoring. 

But the papers intrigued her. The ink was fresh. What could he have possibly been writing?

She tried to read with her cat eyes, but the entire page was blurry. Picking it up gently with her mouth, she carried it as a mother cat would carry her kitten, taking it back outside. She slithered through the crack, making not a sound.

Outside, the moonlight enraptured her. She transformed, and her bare back reflected the night’s light once again. Athena sat down upon the ground, tucking one leg under the other. She yanked the page off of the dead grass and lifted it up to her eyes. It was a glimmering silver beneath the moon. 

Her eyes raked across the letter. A pool of emotions splashed all over her face—from adoration to immense hatred. And, nearing the end, she announced: “Henri… banished?!”

Chapter 27: Chapter XXIV - A Special Treat

Chapter Text

Something did not smell right in the dungeons. Something had tainted the sharp musk ruminating therein. Sir Claudius slipped over toward the fireplace, donned his garments, and began scoping his surroundings.

Birds chirped outside and light broke in through the teeny cracks in the walls. But the scent was not that of a bird.

His papers were strewn across the frozen floors, just as he had left them the day before. No trace of any scampering or movements.

The man slid his gloves on over his palms, then stroked his black mustache. He squinted his silvery-blue eyes, tracing over every speck of dust, every ember in the fireplace, every minute detail of the dungeon. Nothing.

But still, something was out of place. 

Sir Claudius jogged about the room. He planted his boots in each corner, sniffing. Glancing up at the high stone wall ceiling, he pointed and traced his fingers along the air. And then, the hunter turned on his heels, the boots squealing like prey. He locked his eyes on his target—the room of gold.

He swung his arms, making headway toward the room, then pushed the door and peeked inside. Enormous piles of gold—stacked all the way up to the ceiling and taking up all the air in the room, suffocating—were dispersed throughout. The hunter’s eyes caught one in particular, in the farthest corner. 

Then, he lurched at it, landing on all fours. Both his dark hair and cape swooped over to the side of his muscular body. Shoving his palms into the pile of gold, nearly ten metres taller than him, he reached inside. Someone stole his gold. And no one in their right mind steals dragon gold. 

He brought the coin up to his nostrils and took in several whiffs.

“A púca….”

~❦︎~

“Charles, Charles!”

Isolde took her husband by the shoulders, shaking him until his beady red eyes broke apart.

“What?!” he boomed, sitting straight up in bed. Charles twisted his body around until facing his wife. He held a hand up to his mousy hair, rubbing his head. “Whatever is the matter at this hour, Isolde?!”

“Athena’s gone.”

He fell backward, slamming his head against the pillow and shutting his eyes. “Well, of course, she is. It’s market day!”

 “Nay, Charles, open yer eyes and listen ta me,” she spoke, stroking his stubble. The man’s eyelids trembled; he opened one, not bothering to look at Isolde. Instead, his pupil followed the intricate designs on the white ceilings. 

“Athena wasn’t in ‘er bed when I went ta check on ‘er dis mornin’. She’s gone, I tell ya.” The woman stood up from her soft perch on the bed, her slender frame sliding across the room. She rubbed her arms and bit the insides of her cheeks. “You must go after her, Charles. I’m worried about ‘er. She’s never done anything like dis before.”

“Did you check for a note, Isolde? She’s left notes before.”

“I didn’t think of dat!” As the woman scurried out of the room, she hollered, “I was just so worried about her wellbein’ when I didn’t see her da first time!” Her voice echoed down the long hallways, fading more and more after each word. 

A couple of seconds passed then Isolde returned, calling, “Yes, she left a note, Charles. Sayin’ she went to da bakery early.”

"There, that’s your answer, my dear wife,” he spoke, biting. “Will you let me get back to bed now?” 

Isolde Everleigh walked over to the dresser, eyeing her husband like a hawk the whole time, and blew out the candle. As she watched him drift off to sleep, she crumpled the letter in her fingers. A crooked smile caressed her lips. 

“Yes, dear.”

~❦︎~

Four knocks sounded upon the Grand Entrance doors. Urgent and fervent. 

Sir Claudius’s shoulders tensed. He set down his writing. “What could she possibly want?” The tall, imposing man slicked his hair back, though he could never be as quite imposing when in the presence of her.

He wrapped his gloved hands around the circular door handles and pulled. In front of him, vicious and cold, was Mrs. Isolde Everleigh. She wore a brown coat with ruffled, polka-dotted fabrics covering her chest—like the poked-out breast of a falcon. 

In Irish Gaelic, she spoke, “What have you done with my daughter? Where is she?” Her voice quivered and broke near the end of her accusation due to the pressure she put on her vocal cords. 

Sir Claudius lifted his brows, stepping back and holding his hands in a position of surrender. “I haven’t done one thing to your daughter, Mrs. Everleigh. She hasn’t even shown up today for her work. She usually gets here at nine and…” He looked at the Grandfather Clock. “Oh, that ole thing doesn’t work. But I know it’s around ten or eleven or so.”

“‘Tis 10:45. On the dot,” Mrs. Everleigh snipped as she shoved past him, knocking him in the shoulder. Her arms were surprisingly firm, he thought.

“How did you know that?” he asked, rubbing his shoulder.

"I know how to read the sun. It's really quite easy once you learn.”

“Ah…” 

He opened his mouth to ask another question but was cut off by Isolde yelling in English this time: “Athena! Daughter!” She positioned her hands around her mouth in an “O” shape as she called.

“Mrs. Everleigh, you must believe me,” he assured her. “Your daughter is not here. Trust me, if she were, you would know.” He chuckled, turning away, looking out one of the high windows. “She would probably be humming or singing to herself. You can hear her from one of the rooms.” Sir Claudius smiled. 

Isolde turned around, marching straight toward him, her chest puffed out and her wide hips swiveling. “What were you doing before I came?” she interrogated. One arm crossed over the other. She twisted her head, one braid falling from her back to her shoulder. 

“I… was merely translating,” he gestured to the Grand Hall. “My writing desk is in there, Mrs. Everleigh.”

The woman leaned her head down, in thought. “What were you translating?” she asked the floor.

“Oh, just some tales written in Old English, that’s all. Translating them to where more people can understand. A hobby, I suppose.” 

Isolde raised her eyes. He had never looked into them before, but they were a striking golden brown. For some reason, they reminded him of honey pouring out of a pot, layering as it landed, for the colors seemed to be shifting every second he peered into them. “You must teach her,” she spoke.

Sir Claudius looked around the room. “Me? Teach her… what? How to translate? Because if so, she would have to learn Old English first and that’s a hassle in and of itself—”

“No.” 

Silence. Sir Claudius’s lips hung in mid-air.

“Then… what?”

“You must teach her da tales of old. Gaelic tales. That’s it. That’s what da púcaí want.”

Sir Claudius brought his finger to his lips. “I’m sorry, I’m not quite sure I understand.”

“The first time I came here I told you that the púcaí want for you and my daughter to have some kind of… ‘partnership’. It seems I’m the only one who remembered that.”

“No, Mrs. Everleigh. I remember.”

“This whole time I’ve been thinking what they could possibly want the two of you to do together.” She looked at him, squinting her eyes. “Now I know.”

“I’m still confused about what they want us to do. I apologize if I’m missing so—”

“They want you two ta preserve the ancient culture! Why must you be so thick?!” 

“Oh!” he called. “This whole time—I’m sorry—I was thinking of something else.” He winced, slamming his palm against his forehead. “Idiot!”

“And just what were you thinking?” She put her hands on her hips. 

“Nothing you need to know, Mrs. Everleigh.”

“If it’s about my daughter, I should be able to know!” she retorted.

“Ach!” Sir Claudius yelped, holding his head. “I can’t! Look, this is my castle and my authority, alright? I will teach your daughter the old ways. The tales, the potions, the language—everything she needs to know. But leave me be, please! Deal?”

Mrs. Everleigh stood in deep thought, her eyes going back-and-forth between the ground and him. “As long as she is a-learning. Deal.”

Sir Claudius held out his large, gloved hand. Mrs. Everleigh stared at it for a moment, before shaking. She broke away as quick as an owl snatching its prey. 

The man brushed his palms against his suit. “Now, then, the only question left: Where is your daughter actually?”

~❦︎~

Isolde paced around the living room, beginning at the enormous brick fireplace and ending at the kitchen—the kitchen she did not even know how to use, for the new stove was so unlike anything she had ever cooked with before. The whole room was plain and white, with wooden Doric columns holding the ceiling up. An expansive rug decorated with swirly cloud-like patterns covered the entire living room floor. The crisp, clean furniture sighed, bored with themselves. 

Heavy footfalls sounded from the hallway containing the bedrooms. 

"Finally up, I see? Late for work, are ya?” Mrs. Everleigh chided.

"Yeah. What of it?” Mr. Everleigh yanked his hat and coat, as shoddy as ever.

“I thought ya said you were gonna start tryin’ ta be better, ya know wit’ dat new job ya got ‘n’ all.” 

He turned around, eyes ablaze. His cakey red face obtained layers and layers of wrinkles, from his chin to his hairline. “I am doing better!” he erupted, his voice shaking the pearly china in the cupboards. 

“Then prove it by goin’ and findin’ yer daughter!” Isolde screamed, pointing her finger out of the arched window.

Before Mr. Everleigh could make another sound, a voice alarmed the two of them. It was sweet and high, though not necessarily on pitch. Isolde and Charles ran to the window. It was their daughter. 

She trotted in through the door, a basket on her arms, her face pink and glowing. 

“Athena!” Isolde rushed to her daughter’s side. “Where were ya?!” She hugged and kissed her.

The young girl giggled, pushing away her mother’s arms. “I left the note, didn’t I?”

"Well, yes, but we weren’t sure—” 

“I was,” Mr. Everleigh interrupted.

Athena smiled, opening the top to the wooden basket her mother weaved for her years before. She stuck her hand down inside, pulled out a cream puff pastry, and bit the head off of it. “Mmm…” the girl sighed. “Delicious.”

Chapter 28: Chapter XXV - All is Forgiven

Chapter Text

Before Athena Everleigh could stretch her hand to the tall black doors of Beochaoineadh Castle, a voice beckoned her inside:

“Come in, Miss Everleigh. We’ve a lot to discuss.”

The young lass gulped. Sir Claudius spoke with a sweet, mellifluous tone, as though they had been friends for a long, long time—and yet, his teeth were clamped together, talking through tight jaws.

“Of course, Sir Claudius.”

She traveled several metres behind him, taking note of his fingers as they curled and uncurled into a fist. She kept her head low, as a servant always should. 

The pair reached the Grand Hall where the fireplace illuminated the furniture. Athena’s chair, as she had come to know it, was torn more than usual, with new claw marks forming around the armrests. Even with the fire only a few metres away, the girl shivered and quivered. Her stomach lurched, longing to leap out of her body. Athena’s eyes narrowed and the world became a vignette.

“Miss Everleigh,” spoke Sir Claudius, taking a seat in his oversized chair, “would you care to hear a strange story?”

Athena lifted her eyes, but only to the fireplace. She dared not look up at Sir Claudius. “Of course, Sir.”

“I knew you would. You’re always up for a good tale! Now then, just yesterday, I awoke in the dungeons, but something seemed… off. Do you know what I mean by ‘off’?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Very well then!” He clasped his hands together, leaning forward slightly. “I scouted the room until I discovered the issue: Someone—I don’t know who—stole my gold.” As he spat out each word his pitch lowered and his rhythm slowed. 

Athena’s eyes darted across the room, traversing from the writing desk to the fireplace, to her chair. Her chest tightened, transforming into a stone slab. 

Sir Claudius cleared his throat. “As a part of the curse placed upon me, I retain some of my dragon powers when human, but not fully. So I was not able to tell who this thief was at first. I assumed a púca naturally, as they have haunted my castle for years, always doing mischievous things. Therefore, upon transforming, I bolted to my room of gold, hoping to pick out the scent of the thief—but something else filtered in through my nostrils. A scent I recognized all too well.” The girl squeezed her arms, blood veins preparing to burst. “I backed around, stomping across the stone floor with those ghastly dragon feet, and sniffed. My reliable dragon nose led me straight to a journal entry I wrote yesterday. And do you know whose scent was on it?”

The swelling in Athena’s slender neck burst, a dam breaking. All the floodwaters rushed up to her eyes. She pushed them back, but to no avail, and soon the droplets spilled out all over her face and gown and shoes.

“Please… just let me explain myself!” a high-pitched squeal sounded throughout the room from a tiny cat in despair.            

“Go ahead.” Sir Claudius crossed his arms, huffing. 

“I—I am so confused, Sir!” she called. “Yes, I did it! But…” The girl stared at his coat pocket. “May I have your handkerchief?”

“Yes.” He pulled it out and handed it to her. She blew her nose, making sniveling sounds.

“Oh, thank you. It’s just that… I’ve had such a difficult time lately. The other night I just had to turn into Milly! There was no way around it! I couldn’t go to sleep and I had too much energy pent up inside me. You don’t know the feeling. You don’t know what it’s like to be so many different people at once!” She turned to face him, her bloodshot eyes boring holes into his skin. 

“That still does not explain why you stole my gold—nor why you read my private journal entry.”

 “I was desperate! I lied to my parents that I had gone off to the bakery. The baker promised me ‘a special treat’. I didn’t have time to go back to my house and get coins, so I just stole some. I didn’t know what else to do….” She buried her face in her hands. “And the letter… well, it was addressed to me, wasn’t it?!” she shrieked.

Sir Claudius flung himself out of his chair, sending it flying backward. His face twisted like a bear’s—nose crinkled, teeth bared. He roared like a beast: “It was a creative writing exercise!” 

Athena rose from her chair as well, scampering behind it. Panting, she spoke, “I—I’m sorry… I didn’t know….”

Sir Claudius’s knees buckled beneath him.

“Sir, listen, I honestly did not know… I felt so curious the other night. When I turn into Milly, I’m not my usual self. I don’t think like a human. All I wanted was to—see you in dragon form.” She hugged the handkerchief.

He faced the ground, his hair completely submerging his face. “Then why didn’t you just ask?” he groaned.

“Because, as I said, when I turn into Milly, I’m… someone else. I’m not human.”

"Then how were you able to read that letter?!” His voice caused an earthquake and the earthquake caused the entire castle to rumble and shake. Parts of the ceiling broke off, landing on the stone floors.

Athena sobbed once more. She pulled her hair, violently tugging at her scalp. “Fine! Do you want to know the truth, the whole godforsaken truth?!”

“That’s all I’ve ever wanted!” the man yelled, climbing up from his squatting position.

The girl took in her surroundings, gazing into the fireplace, then at Sir Claudius’s boots. “Let us sit back down then. Try to be civil about it.”

He checked his surroundings as well. “Yes, let’s.”

The pair rested—they breathed, gazed into the golden flames, and thought of cool autumn breezes. 

 “I’m not really sure where to begin,” Athena confessed, wringing out her handkerchief as though it were a wet rag. Wet, yes. Rag, no.

“You don’t have to know,” Sir Claudius spoke in a monotone voice. “Just tell me why you read such a private matter.”

Athena winced, shutting her frosted blueberry eyes. “I can’t quite explain it… Sir, it’s just that you’re so—mysterious. I want to know about you! I can’t help it! The minute you said you knew Henri, I wanted to know more. I still don’t fully know about your past, both human and dragon! I want to know, which is why I stay here. But I’m also terribly afraid, because—I don’t want others to find out that I work here. That’s why I didn’t write, Sir Claudius. Because I’m a coward. Just like you said. I was afraid that if someone saw I was writing letters to you they would become suspicious. I wanted to write a letter—I did! But whenever I set myself down at my little writing desk, my fears and anxieties overpowered my will to write.

“But I read every letter from you, Sir. Every single one. I rushed out to the mailboy each morning so I could take the letters addressed to me first. That way, no one in the family knew I was getting daily mail from you. At first, your letters made me smile and laugh. I loved being called ‘dearest’ and ‘friend.’ And then, as they grew to be more grave, I smiled less and less. In your final one you wrote, I knew I had to write back to you. I did not want you coming to Dublin, by any means.”

Sir Claudius piped in, “Then my intentions were fulfilled.” It was the first time Athena had seen him smirk in months.

“Yes, yes they were.” She could not contain her giggle. 

Why must he be so charming and so harrowing at the same time?

Athena pushed her hair back, running her fingernails through it. “Upon discovering that Henri was your… previous apprentice I—was not sure what to think. But now that I think about it, it makes sense. The style of the castle curtains, the furniture, your garments… All of it! It’s in his style. French mixed with Irish. I wonder if he knew that I was your apprentice, and that’s why he was always so very kind to me.”

“Did he discuss other matters with you besides fashion and clothing?”

“Yes, why?”

“Fantastic! Just like we practiced!” Sir Claudius’s face beamed, morning rays shooting out of his eyes.

“What do you mean?”

“Henri always had difficulty speaking about other matters besides fashion and clothing and garments and so forth. It often drove customers away! I had to teach him how to have polite conversation with people.”

“Oh,” Athena laughed, “he did that alright. He told me the reason he came to Dublin actually! It was a long story about—”

“Let me guess,” Sir Claudius butted in. “A Dublin girl came to his shop in France, but he didn’t catch her name. Still, he fell madly in love with her and followed her all the way to Ireland to try and find her.”

“Yes! How did you know!? I thought those events transpired recently, not twenty years ago!”

“Why, Miss Everleigh, came up with that story!”

Athena’s face dropped. “What?!”

“It was all just a fib—a conversation-starter if you please. Everyone loves a good romance. It’s how he attracted customers. I can’t believe he still uses that tale to this day.” Sir Claudius leaned back in his seat, clicking his tongue and shaking his head. 

Athena huffed, crossing her arms. The handkerchief dangled. “You just ruin the fun in everything, don’t you?”

“I suppose you could say that.” He took his thick pointer finger and scratched his arched cheekbone. 

Athena noticed the contours of his face—the lines, the muscles, the slight wrinkles; and the contrasts—how his bright blue eyes were like wisps in the woods, standing out against the rest of his pale skin and black hair. She could not look away. 

Sir Claudius’s face drooped. He sighed. “I suppose I haven’t been fair to you, have I, Miss Everleigh?”

“Sir, everything has been my fault and I take full responsibility for it.”

“Perhaps it was both of our faults. I shouldn’t expect you to do all of the things I expect you to do, for you are just a girl of sixteen. You’ve so much you still must learn.”

Athena bowed her head. “I—I usually argue with that logic but, coming from you, I can’t help but agree.”

“You want so much to be an adult, but you are still a girl,” he spoke. “Did you know that you are the youngest apprentice I’ve ever had?”

“I thought I wasn’t your apprentice—merely a housekeeper.”

Sir Claudius furrowed his thick brows. “What makes you say that?”

She folded the handkerchief. “Because of all the wrongs I’ve committed against you. How childish I’ve been. You never taught me anything so I figured that I was just a housekeeper from then on.”

“Athena, no, no! I did not mean that at all! I—I don’t know what I meant…. I shouldn’t have treated you that way.” He reached out to her, but she flinched. “Oh, oh….” The man looked away and tucked his hand beneath his legs. “I apologize if you feel that way. I never meant for you to just be my housekeeper.”

“You also, time after time, have lashed out at me when all I did was ask simple questions. I couldn’t possibly know they were sensitive topics for you.”

“Yes, I—I’m sorry.” He leaned his head down in defeat. 

“I forgive you, Sir. I only hope that we can move forward from here. It upsets me quite a bit when we get into arguments.” She smiled, color returning to her cheeks. Her pristine face glowed in the firelight. “I would much rather be your friend. I am so sorry for everything I’ve done to you, and I hope that you can forgive me.”

“I do.” He faltered. “You—you said you wanted to know more about me?” 

“Yes!” The girl leaned forward, almost tilting out of the chair. “Tell me everything! Anything!”

“Oh, alright… No one has ever asked before. And if they did, I had to lie. Let’s see.” He looked up at the ceiling, pondering. “I was born during a time of great sorrow: at the height of the Black Plague. Deep in a cave. Not only did the plague affect humans, but dragons, too. Thankfully, most dragons remained in their caves so not many of us died. Still, though, my parents considered it to be a sign. And a sign it was! I was always considered to be the ‘Odd-One-Out’ in my clan. No one liked me. I already told you that.”

“Yes, I remember. That’s why you wanted to become a human.” She counted on her fingers. “So, you are five-or-six-hundred-years-old?!”

“Roughly,” he spoke. “I haven’t been keeping count.”

“What was the world like back then?” She leaned her chin on her palms, staring deep into his ocean eyes. 

“There weren’t as many cities—not all this hustling-and-bustling. Dublin was still large, but definitely not anything like it is now. Life was… much more traditional. Most certainly. For instance, there were Druids.”

“Druids! My mother has spoken of those! But I never really knew what they were!”

“They were old Irish peoples—oral storytellers who held many sacred traditions and healing knowledge. Much of my knowledge of potions came from them actually. I learned under a Druid. They filled several roles in society but those are the two I remember most. But they have mostly disappeared from Ireland, I believe. I have not seen one in many, many years.” He glared into the girl’s eyes; they interlocked. “I must teach you one of the tales sometime so that the legends can be carried on. Would you like that?”

“I would, Sir. I want to know of your past and all of the stories you collected along the way!”

Sir Claudius cocked his head. “Why do you want to know so much about me? I know I’m ‘mysterious’ as you say, but, is there any other reason?”

Athena dropped her chin and rubbed her palms together. “Perhaps it is because… you have the answers to questions I’ve been asking my entire life. I’ve always wanted to know if there were any live púcaí besides myself! And although you are not a púcaí, you are a shapeshifter. You’ve also raised questions I didn't even know I had. Everything about you is a mystery that I want to unravel. I want to… help, Sir. I know not everything is my business, but I want to help you with all of your troubles, if I may. Other than that, I want to preserve the Irish culture. I cannot pretend I do not see it happening, Sir. I’ve seen what’s been happening even in my brief time here in my small town: I do not speak Gaelic though my mother does. Father always tells me to speak proper, but… how can one speak ‘proper’? There are so many languages and cultures! There is no ‘proper’ way to do it! There can’t be! I want to prove that to him. I want him to understand that the Gaelic culture is important, too, and has every right to be revered—not merely British, Roman, and Greek cultures.” Her indignance melted away into embarrassment. “I’ve spoken too much, haven’t I?”

Sir Claudius’s cheeks flushed with heat. “Not at all.” The man scratched the back of his head. “Actually, you have spoken the exact thoughts I’ve had for quite some time.”

“Really?”

“Yes, Athena. You understand more than you think you do—more than I thought you did, in fact.”

“So, you underestimated me?” The girl winked, her eyes sparkling like the ocean in the middle of the day with the sun high-in-the-sky. 

“No, no!” He waved his hands. “Never.”

“I thought so.”

“Would you… care to learn some more then? About being an apprentice, I mean? I teach you some potions? Start you off with the basic training?”

“I would love that, Sir.”

The man rose from his chair first, leading Athena to the potion room. She followed suit, watching his cape flapping and his strong thigh muscles the entire way.

Chapter 29: Chapter XXVI - Love Potion

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Henri collected several vials of herbs from the counter. He brought them to Sir Claudius who concocted a mixture in his bowl, swirling a large spoon around and around. 

“Thank you, Henri. Why don’t you try it this time?”

“Oh, Monsieur, I don’t think I can! You do it so well!” he complained.

“Nonsense! Just try it. I’ve shown you several times. You put those herbs in the bowl, then combine them with this special leaf and this frog leg. You mince them up with this knife, put them in this bowl, and mix them together with this spoon. After that, you add the liquid ingredients—just some swamp water. Then, you’re finished! Just like cooking.” He faltered. “Or so I’ve been told by my other apprentice. I’ve never actually ‘cooked’ before.”

“Well, neither have I, Monsieur.”

Sir Claudius laughed, a deep, hearty bellow. “Please, call me Claudius. I insist. We’ve known each other for over two years now.” 

Henri froze, in the middle of picking up the knife. “Oh, alright… Claudius.” He chuckled. “It’s so strange to say.”

“It will take some getting used to, but I insist. We’re friends now, and I’ve been calling you Henri for some time, so why not?”

“Yes. Why not.” 

“Did you know that this was actually once considered to be a love potion?"

“No….”

“It was! Some old Druids taught it to me! But I know that it does not work because I later found out the old men were just teasing me. Ah… I was so lovesick as a teen boy! I should have known, because who would put frog legs and swamp water into a love potion?! Nonetheless, I tried it on a few people but to no avail.” He sighed. “Now it’s just another potion in my book with no usage whatsoever besides teaching proper mincing methods.” 

Henri nodded stiffly, his neck moving like a tree limb in the wind. He minced the leaves and herbs. After a few hesitant slices and dices, the man yelped: “Ow!” He sucked in air, putting pressure onto his thumb.

“Oh, Henri!” Sir Claudius flocked to his friend’s side. “Did you cut yourself?” He fumbled around, trying to get a glimpse of the wound.

“Yes, agh…” Henri sat down, his face meshing together in pain.

“Hold on for just a second!” Sir Claudius called as he bolted out of the room.

Upon returning, the man in black held medical supplies in his arms. “I keep all of these in the room next door for emergencies! Do not fret, dear Henri!”

Sir Claudius took several tubes of ointment and rubbed them over Henri’s thumb, applying pressure and yet being so tender all the while—after which, he wrapped the man’s thumb in mint leaves. “There, keep those on for a day or two, and it should heal soon enough.” 

Henri’s pain melted away, even after running his forefinger along the side of the leaves. “Thank you, Monsieur.” 

“Claudius.”

“Claudius… I apologize.”

“Well, do you agree that this lesson has been enough for today? Would you like to enjoy each other’s company for the rest of the time?” Sir Claudius’s blue eyes glistened underneath the chandelier. 

“How can I turn down an offer like that?” Henri asked, turning paler with each passing second—but not from any amount of pain. 

“Very well then! Let’s go sit by the fire, shall we?”

~❦︎~

Sir Claudius poured two cups of tea, soon bringing them over on a large tray. Henri twiddled his thumbs together and watched as the leaves slowly came off. His blonde hair fell over his skin, reflecting the bright firelight.

“Here we go, Henri! I know you like yours plain, so I left it. But I can’t have tea without some sugar.”

“Thank you.” Henri reached out to take the teacup, but Sir Claudius would not let go. The blonde man looked up into his Master’s eyes, noticing how they brimmed with icy seawater—so beautiful and so chilled at the same time. They roared like oceans, frightening the small man.

Sir Claudius finally let go, after staring at Henri for several seconds, who then backed away and balled up inside himself. The man in black placed two lumps of sugar in his tea, swirling it around before sipping—all the while keeping his eyes latched onto Henri.

“So… Henri,” he crooned, his voice deep and dark yet smooth like red wine, “I know we came up with that story a while ago, but… have you ever actually courted a girl before?”

Henri tensed, his shoulders rising. “No, Monsieur.”

“Claudius, please call me Claudius.”

“Sorry, Mo—Claudius! I mean.” He tapped his fingernails on the teacup.

“It is alright. I just find it hard to believe that a man so handsome as you could not find a mate.” 

“I’ve never really been interested in women before. Even as a young boy, some part of me knew I would become an old bachelor.” 

A smile creeping up onto his purple lips, Sir Claudius queried, “Do you remember the first day we met? How I told you I wanted a wife and family someday?”

“Vaguely.”

“Well, that is true, Henri. I do want a family at some point—would love to have one—and a wife would be lovely as well. But—” He stammered, sweat beading on his forehead.

Henri clenched his fists together, almost breaking the fine china. His wound started bleeding again. “Monsieur, I am not interested,” Henri spoke, firm. He turned his head, his eyes solid as the castle’s stone walls. “I am not interested in a relationship by any means, whether with a man or a woman.”

Sir Claudius’s jaw hung in midair. He cleared his throat, leaned back in his chair, and stared into his teacup. Something broke within the man. The flames that had been rising within him died all at once, falling back into his heart. “I understand, Sir Clermont. You need not say another word. Forget this ever happened.”

Henri heard the brokenness in Sir Claudius’s voice—an unfamiliar sound. “You will find someone someday, Claudius. Just not me.”

~❦︎~

“Sir, look!”

The man woke out of his trance, jerking up from the chair.

“Yes, Athena?” he called.

“I did it! The potion is complete!”

“That quick?” Sir Claudius smirked as he trudged toward the mixing bowl, but, to his disbelief, a pungent smell ascended from the bowl, flowing up in green and purple fumes like the Aurora Borealis. 

“Well done, my student!” he congratulated her. “I didn't even have to show you more than once how to do it! You are truly gifted in this.”

“Well, it’s very similar to cooking, Sir. My Mother is a wonderful cook and she showed me everything. We tend to the gardens and pick herbs and vegetables from them, then bring everything inside to cook. There’s no difference here.”

Sir Claudius sighed, remembering. “I wouldn’t know. I’ve never cooked a day in my life.”

“Perhaps I could teach you some time!” Her eyes sparkled blue and white. Most of the pink had returned to her cheeks, too. “I want to teach you how to garden at the very least, so you won’t have to rely on the markets in town anymore. I tell you, it is much easier and less expensive to grow your own vegetables. I recommend gardening for you anyway.”

“Oh? Why is that?”

“Number one: you won’t have to show your face in public—although I’m happy to go out into the markets to retrieve whatever else you need. Number two: those gardens need some tendin’ to. Number three: you need to get some sun!”

Sir Claudius felt his face; it was freezing. “I suppose you’re right. I cannot argue with that logic. I’ve become used to being the color and temperature of ice.”

“Exactly! Tomorrow we can go outside together and tend to those nasty gardens! Then we can come inside and work on potions. Sounds good?”

He grinned. His eyes were soft and blue like the sky reflecting the ocean, though at the same time forlorn, unforgetting, and cold like river waters in the winter. “I would be delighted.”

Notes:

Just to be clear: yes, Sir Claudius is bisexual. And yes, Henri is asexual/aromantic.

Chapter 30: Chapter XXVII - Short Tempers and Tulip Seeds

Chapter Text

The sun always shone the brightest in late fall and early winter. Never spring, nor summer. Its rays dashed down from the heavens in sharp sprints, breaking through the bitter cold air, and landing on Sir Claudius’s neck of ice. How could the air be so cold and yet burn and penetrate at the same time?

It felt as though someone was branding him on the nape of his neck with a fiery stick. The man pulled his black cloak over his face; it fell across his forehead. 

“Gettin’ sunburnt, ey?”, Athena rose from her crouching position, twiddling a gardening tool around her nimble fingers. “That’s why I wear a hat.” She tapped her straw hat, which draped a shadow over her entire frame, with the tool. “Would you like me to buy you one when I go into town?”

“No, thank you. Cloaks work just fine.”

“They will in November when it’s cold. But it won’t be the same story come springtime. You will burn up in those black garments, Sir. Not suitable for gardening, when you need all the energy you can.”

“I suppose.” He rolled his eyes, longing to go back inside, where he could journal or read. I enjoy spending time with her and watching her garden… but I would rather watch from a window.

“Now, Sir Claudius, you see how I am planting the bulb seeds? These will grow into tulips, hopefully. I just love tulips, don’t you? I think they're real' beautiful.” She held out her hand. “Why don’t you give it a try.”

His legs stiffened, almost buckling beneath him. “Me?”

“Well, who else?”

A shaky, gloved hand reached out to Athena’s slender one and took the seeds. He knelt down, as she did. He could feel the wet mud seeping in through his pants, dampening his nervous knees. 

“Miss Everleigh, I do not feel comfortable… digging in the dirt with these gloves. I’m afraid they will become dirty.”

“Pish-posh! We’ll just wash them.” She put a hand on his shoulder, gripping his firm muscles. “And if you don’t want to get them dirty, simply take them off. I’ll hold onto them.”

Sir Claudius winced; his whole body caved in—first his chest, then his shoulders, and then everything else. “I— Alright.” He laid the seeds upon the ground, commencing pulling the gloves off of each finger on his right hand, before doing the same to the left. He sucked air into his lungs, but all flames drowned out of his body, and all that remained was the stiff, freezing wind. Sir Claudius tore off the right glove. Athena’s pupils dilated as she intently watched; if she were a cat, she might have stalked and pounced on his hand. 

Streaks of purple veins, like rivulets, washed all across his hands. And then, in light silver—almost blending in with his skin tone—were scars. Detailing every muscle, every corner, every crevice. The man in black blinked, holding his face down. After taking off the left glove, he picked the seeds up with his bare hands and planted them into one of the holes Athena had dug.

A few minutes of silence passed between the two of them. Athena stole glances every now and then of Sir Claudius’s scarred hands as he dug in the dirt. Sir Claudius stole glances too, of her curved back and the bust of her dress. Even wearing plain day clothes that her mother had made for her, she reminded him of roses. 

“Athena… we are—friends, yes?”

“I assumed we were.” The girl’s eyes tore away from his hands and back to her work.

“And friends tell each other secrets, yes?”

Athena’s stomach rose into her chest. Her eyes lit up like the morning sun. “Yes, yes they do.” She turned toward him, looking into his eyes, and instead only finding the hem of the cloak.

“Would you like to know how I got my scars? The ones on my hands, the one on my eye, all of them?”

She sat, speechless, her mouth hanging wide open for several moments, before clearing her throat. “Only if you wish to tell me.”

“I do.” He covered the seeds with dirt and mud. “Blue eyes are extremely rare in dragons—practically unheard of in our clan before our patriarch assured my parents that it had occurred before. To this day, I don’t know if he was telling the truth or just trying to convince my parents not to abandon their young *whelp. It doesn’t matter anyhow….” Athena furrowed her brows, her silvery blue eyes drawing closer together. She pressed the hem of her dress down with her fingernails. “No one in the clan ever treated me with any semblance of respect,” he spoke, his teeth baring and his eyes wincing and his voice deep and dark like thick mists swirling about in the night. “As a whelp, I would travel out of the cave to spend time by myself in the forest. I needed these moments of calm.” He grinned, the sides of his pale purple mouth rising. “I remember the first time ever I saw humans. There was a load of them in the forest, traveling with buggies and carts. Frightened to pieces, I hid in the ferns—small enough then to fit within them. I tucked in my wings and crouched down low. I’d never seen anything like them before. The clan never hunted after them anyway—too dangerous. We hunted animals instead. But I digress. The moment I saw them with their pale skin and light hair and eyes… I felt as though I were looking at myself. Everyone in the clan had dark red or orange eyes and coarse, black skin with red scales. Everyone except me. I had bright red skin with some black and gray mixed in, as well as blue eyes.

“Upon returning to the cave, I wanted to know more about humans, so I asked some *fledglings about them. And they…” Sir Claudius groaned, flames building up inside of him. But not the hot, passionate flames he had gotten used to whenever he saw Athena—but rather, roaring, indignant ones. “They gave me my first scar.” He held up a finger to his eye, where a dark pink, almost purple, cut tore down the middle—as though someone had split a perfect tapestry with a sword. 

Athena forced herself to look at the scar, her eyes tracing up-and-down the thing. He wanted to show it to her, after all. For the most part, his eyelid covered the blue orb beneath. He glanced down at the ground, but there was a pain in his eyes of blue that she had never noticed before. The shimmer was dimmer, like a murky waterbed instead of a crystalline river. 

“Why would they do such a thing?” Athena asked. “I thought that—”

“You thought what? The same thing all of my other apprentices thought?!” the monster within roared. Athena cradled herself, throwing her arms around her waist. “You thought that I received this scar in some grandiose battle, didn’t you? Whether with a human or another dragon, I know you thought that! Well, you’re wrong. None of my scars came from such interferences. There was nothing grandiose about being bullied by other dragons, and it wasn’t a battle either, for I never fought back. I’ve never fought a day in my life. I left my home clan before I could become skilled in the practice.” 

“Sir… I wasn’t going to say that.” She huffed, breathing hard.

“Then what were you going to say?” The flames inside him died down, blowing about in the wind.

“I was going to ask how you retained your scars in human form if you received them in dragon form.”

“Oh… well, there is a simple answer to that. One I’ve already told you. I’m not a bloody human. This form is only a façade. It was the best reconstruction the patriarch of our clan could make. I still retain all of my ailments—my scars, my dragon muscles, some of my fangs, and, of course, my fire-breathing lungs.”

“Some of those things I would not consider ailments, Sir Claudius.”

“Then what would you consider them? They hold me back in life.”

The girl let out a small huff. “What I wouldn’t give to have a partial cat form—fangs, muscles, night vision, and especially the speed.”

“Well, perhaps you should go talk to the patriarch of my clan yourself and ask him to change you into a cat full-time!” Sir Claudius bared his fangs together, growling. His face twisted into a tight snarl.

Athena reared back at first but immediately got up, unafraid. “Sir Claudius, I would appreciate it if you remained calm with me. We are friends, after all.” The girl squinted her eyes and put her hands on her hips.

The man turned his neck quick, facing away from her, but his cloak dropped in the process, revealing his sunburn. Athena stifled a giggle. Her cheeks became apple orchards, ripe and ready. Sir Claudius’s face flushed and he yanked the cape over his head. 

“You know I’m right, Sir,” the girl cooed, digging her tools into the ground, but her head soon fell after teasing him. “I am sorry about your past experiences, Sir Claudius.”

“There is nothing to be sorry about. It is what it is. I sometimes wish I hadn’t asked the patriarch of my clan to become a human. It is almost worse being only half-way human. It’s starving. I can’t live my life fully one way or the other.” He sighed, leaning his head back and tugging on his cloak, but not taking it off. “Sometimes I thought I was human when I went out to social events or when I went to tell tales on the streets. But then, whenever the sunset came… I was reminded that—I’m not.” 

“Were people… ever afraid of you, Sir?”

“Of course they were!” He swung his head around to face her. “People would call me names all the time! Saying I was a monster or a beast. It wouldn’t have hurt so bad if they were wrong, but they weren’t. I had to be more charming and more effervescent than anyone else in the room to be accepted, Miss Everleigh. That was the only way they enjoyed my company. If I hadn’t been such a good tale-teller or writer… I would probably be dead by now.” 

Athena’s stomach lurched at the thought. She shook her head and decided to change the subject: “You said that dragons don’t really have names, so to speak. Then who gave you the name ‘Claudius’?”

The man smiled a huge toothy grin. “I did.” He kneeled on the ground, moving closer to her. “I left my clan as a young lad—right after I had passed the threshold into adolescence. Once I learned the language of the surrounding areas—Gaelic—I wanted to venture about and learn other languages. I had all the time in the world to do so!” he yelped, laughing. “So, I traveled to England, and it was the time of the great playwright Shakespeare. You are familiar with him, I’m sure.”

“Father talks about him every now and then, and even quotes him at times.”

Sir Claudius smiled again, nodding. “Well, upon viewing the play Hamlet, I was entranced. I would have probably taken the lead character’s name, but it did not… fit me as well as I would have liked it to. Instead, I took the villain’s name: Claudius.”

“Why the villain, Sir?”

“Perhaps I felt like one—but he was no less a villain than any revered king of England, Athena. He was a man first. Perhaps that’s what I liked so much about him.”

Athena pursed her lips. “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

“We’ll have to read Shakespeare together sometime and I’ll explain what I mean. You are too young now to understand anyway.”

“I am not!” she cried, lashing out. “I am the one who acts the most civil between the two of us anyhow. Who’s the real adult?!”

Sir Claudius lifted his eyes, his thick brows breaking into his skin. No one had ever confronted him about his temperament in such a way before. “Perhaps you are more in touch with your emotions than I, Athena. But you still have a long way to go with your literary skills.”

“You could have said that in the first place.” She crossed her arms, frowning. She spoke in the lower range of her vocal cords, though her voice was still beautiful and soft as rose petals.

Sir Claudius smirked, his eyes knitting together once again. “Since you’ve been asking me so many personal questions, do you mind if I ask you a few? Merely to see how your temperament holds up?”

“Try me.” The girl smirked as well. 

“Very well then. Why did you really go to Dublin and why did you come back with such a changed countenance? Why did you never transform into Milly? And so on and so forth.” He spoke with wide gestures, rolling one hand over the other.

Athena paused, then leaned back, fiddling with her long strands of curly hair. “There’s a lot of reasons why I went. The way you continually… talked about your ‘previous apprentice’ who I now know as ‘Henri’... frightened me. I assumed something awful had happened, which I still believe it did. I was afraid something similar might occur to me, or that villagers in the town would figure out that I was a púcaí, since I traveled back-and-forth to your castle as a cat, then transformed. I was afraid someone might see me, or that—I couldn’t fully trust you…. I don’t know. I just… felt so uncomfortable. I wanted to believe you, but you kept lashing out at me. One minute you were pleasant and then the next fiery—”

“The same could be said of yourself.”

Athena squinted her eyes and stuck her tongue out at him. Sir Claudius couldn’t help but chuckle on the inside.

“Those were several of the reasons why. I was afraid like I explained a few days ago.”

“And what of Dublin? What occurred there?”

“I— At first I did not like it. It was like it had always been. My aunt and nieces were like they had always been. Conceited. High-strung. But, after a week or two… something changed. They started treating me like family, especially Aunt Helena and Rubina. Margie,” she let out a puff of air, grinning, “never quite got used to my being there.” She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “And then, when we went to social gatherings and balls and so forth… people… paid attention to me. They listened to what I had to say. It was like a fantasy, like what I’ve only read in books. And there were two boys who courted me—Richard and Brandon. They were so kind to me and danced with me and told me how pretty I was.” Her eyes sparkled like crystals. Sir Claudius turned a searing red—not from the sunburn, however. “As the months went on, however, I started to lose touch with Milly. I was alright at first, but soon, she wanted to come out and I had to suppress her time and time again. I began to crave home and my family. You sending that letter saying you would come was the final straw. I could not handle it anymore and knew I had to return home.” 

Athena’s eyes fell. She twisted her fingers around in the dirt. 

“What’s wrong, Athena?” he asked.

“What I returned to… was not home.” Her voice cracked, shivering beneath the autumn winds.

“What do you mean?”

“My father built a new house with your gold. He didn’t even tell me about it. Said it was a ‘homecoming gift’. It’s not a gift if you’re paying for it….”

Sir Claudius' eyes lit aflame. His mouth hung open and steam began to pour out of it, turning to mist in the icy temperatures. He began snorting and growling. 

“Athena…” Words gurgled in the back of his throat—words she could not quite understand.

"Yes, Sir?”

“Your father is only using you. I see it now. I see it all now. Your father is using you to gain money and status—the money and status he once had.”

“Sir, I have already thought long and hard about this. I agreed to work here for the betterment of my family. I knew what I was doing when I gave him the gold. He believes a new house is for the better.”

“No, no, no… Did he even ask your mother or any of the other children their thoughts?” Sir Claudius grew to be more and more furious with each passing second.”

“No, Sir….”

“Then that explains it. As well as the fact that he lies to your family, saying he has a new job when it’s really you doing the hard work. Despicable,” the man in black spat. 

Athena wrung her hands, looking away. “Well, he is my father, Sir… and I love him.”

“Obviously, that love is not returned.”

“You don’t know him.”

“This is your money, for you to make your own decisions with—”

“It’s my family’s money.”

“Fine. Be stubborn about it. Have it your way. If you don’t want to face the facts, you don’t have to.”

“And you must face the fact that this is my father we are speaking about.” 

Sir Claudius frowned, crossing his arms. “You are too young and naïve to understand.”

“Perhaps I am. But that does not change the fact that I want this money for my family’s gain. As long as my family is content, so am I.” 

Sir Claudius sighed. “But you are not content.”

“I am so!”

“With your new house, I mean.”

“Well… no, but my father is, and that’s what matters.” She closed her eyes and sucked in air through her nose as fast as she could. “I do not wish to discuss this matter with you any longer!”

“Temper, temper.” Sir Claudius clucked his tongue. “I knew I could break you.”

Athena flared her nostrils, grabbed one of the tools, and chucked it his way, though missed—after which, both began laughing at the other. 

~❦︎~❦︎~

*whelp - a baby dragon.

*fledglings - adolescent dragons.

Chapter 31: Chapter XXVIII - Truth Be Told

Chapter Text

“You know, Sir Claudius, ever since yesterday, I can’t help but think of something,” Athena spoke, sweeping the dust from the floor, sending specks whirling into the air.

“And what’s that, Athena?” Sir Claudius glanced up from his treasured novel. His scarred fingers gripped its thick spine. 

“That I feel as though I am finally beginning to understand you… the way you are, why you do certain things, why you act in certain ways. It all makes sense now. You never really had a childhood. I had more of a childhood than you did!”

“Athena, dear, you forget you’re still in your childhood—albeit, the final years.”

The girl gripped the broom handle, lifting her thin brows and stiffening her body. “Yes, I suppose I am.” With one slender finger, she pushed a curl back into place behind her ear and commenced sweeping. “Sir Claudius, will there ever be another place I sweep that's not the Grand Hall? I feel as though I have been sweeping it for ages! Surely there are dustier rooms in the castle than this.”

The man scratched his scruffy chin, making a metallic sound that echoed through the hall before dying out. He cocked his head to the side, staring into the fireplace. “Yes, Athena, I do believe so. But we will go there another day.”

Athena perked, her long curls bouncing up-and-down along her back. “Where?!”

“My Master’s Quarters,” he replied. “I hardly ever sleep there so the bed does not need making up, but I suppose you could dust off my tables and sweep the floors and so on. Maybe even spruce up my private library—reorganize the books for me.”

“Sir, I would be delighted!” She raised a hand up to her forehead and made a sign as though she were following a captain’s orders. Sir Claudius couldn’t help but chuckle. 

“Back to the previous conversation...” he winced, tightening his jaw. “There are still some things I have not told you.”

Athena held her mouth open and her silvery eyes bulged out of her head. “Yes, Sir?”

His heart sank deep into his chest, retreating back as though it were crawling into a hole in a cave, avoiding a predator that had been avoided for twenty years. “Athena…” he stammered, shutting the book and slamming it down on the counter. “I suppose it is time I told the truth.” 

Athena leaned forward, beads of perspiration falling off of her forehead. Her circular eyes bugged out like a fly’s in anticipation. “About…?” 

Sir Claudius’s eyes fluttered about the Grand Hall. He shivered, his insides swelling with frozen fear. “Henri. About Henri.” 

The girl dropped the broom handle, a thud sounding throughout the hall. She gathered her extensive skirts, tip-toed toward her chair, took hold of the armrests, and pulled it closer to Sir Claudius. “Tell me everything!” Athena plopped down, resting her chin on her palms. Her eyes tore into his soul like a predator tearing into its prey. 

“Well, yes…” he uttered, coughing into his sleeve. “After he made all of the furniture and fabrics for me, and we became acquainted with one another… I… asked him to be my apprentice. I hadn’t had one in over a year and needed one desperately. To tell my tales, to learn potions, to go out into town and buy things.” 

“Uh, huh….” Athena nodded, her tongue sticking out of her pretty pink lips. 

“And so, he agreed, mainly because of the gold which he needed to refurbish his shop… but later he told me it was also because of the ‘confidante’ and ‘mentor’ he had found in me. I’ll never forget that.” Sir Claudius smiled, a far-away smile—withering away like an old, creaking ship departing out to sea. His eyes told stories Athena only wished she could know; they withheld emotions she only wished she could comprehend. “And then, one day, two years after we had met… he did not show. I knew something was wrong because he was never late. Ever.” 

“Was he ill?” Athena bumped in.

“Not in the way you would think.” He wrung his hands together, his scars gleaming in the firelight. “A week or so later, I received a letter in the mail.” Sir Claudius’s icy eyes grazed over Athena, and a single drop of sweat fell into his lap. “The… the person told me that Henri had been attacked.”

Athena gasped, a hand lurching up to her mouth. Tears drowned her eyes. “But why would they do that?! Henri is so—”

“Several men of the town did not like the tales Henri had been spinning—the ones I had asked him to spin about dragons. Henri made them seem believable and so they thought he was a loon. It did not help that he was French either, nor that he made clothes. One night while he was closing his shop, a group of men attacked him, leaving him for dead. Thankfully, the author of the letter witnessed it and took Henri into her home. Once he healed, and the men found out about it, they banished him from the town. Not legally, of course. They were a part of a gang of sorts.” Sir Claudius tugged on his cape and leaned over his chair. “The author of the letter described Henri as petrified and ill, but fervent to come back and work for you. The lady said he would return one day. Yet, after twenty years passed, I thought perhaps he had died, especially with him being ill still.” His head popped up, looking into Athena’s eyes. “Now I find that not to be the case.”

Athena squirmed in her seat, thoughts running rampant in her mind. “So that is why you waited so long to find another apprentice!” she squealed.

“Well, actually, I wasn’t intending on having another one at all.” He rubbed the back of his head. “That advertisement you found was from some odd years ago—before your time. They must have never taken it down after I put it up there. They had to have not taken it down.”

“Oh, no,” Athena giggled, “you are quite right, Sir Claudius. Mr. and Mrs. O’Dair never do anything in the bar—they never take any advertisements down nor do they fix anything! The most they ever do is clean the whiskey glasses and sweep the floors!” 

“Hmph!” He turned his head toward the fire, his straight nose in shadow. “Well, generally I would scorn upon such incompetence but, perhaps I can make an exception.” Slowly, Sir Claudius’s eyes shifted to face Athena. The girl’s cheeks blossomed. 

“I do have one other question, Sir.”

“Yes, Athena?”

“Who was the author of the—”

“I do not know. A lady. I could tell by the handwriting. Other than that, I do not know,” he snapped. Athena remained silent and squeezed her knees together as tight as she could. Sir Claudius took note and spoke, “It has taken many years for me to come to terms with this, for nothing like it had ever happened before. I felt responsible for his near-death experience, Athena. And I don’t want the same fate to come to you. Therefore, every single tale I share with you must be kept a secret.” 

“But then—” she gasped, “what will you do if the tales are not kept alive? Isn’t that just what we were speaking of the other day?! We must keep them alive, Sir!”

Sir Claudius gripped the armrests of his chair. “I want to keep them alive, Athena, but I cannot risk you getting hurt, or worse. I was wary of you working here for this very reason, and if you do not comply with my wishes, then I won’t have you as my apprentice for any longer.” Small ovens within his pupils began to heat up. Roasting.

“Then what will you do if you turn to stone? Don’t the tales have to be kept alive for you to remain human during the day?!” Athena raised her voice, sitting up, her back completely straight. “I can’t lose you either, Claudius!” The girl stiffened and blushed, her cheeks turning the reddest he had ever seen them—the color of blood. “Oh… Sir,” she corrected.

Something tingled within the man’s stomach. A fiery worm crawling up out of his intestines and making way to his ribcage and heart. He sighed, palming his scruffy face. “If you truly care about me, Athena, then you will not share any of the tales I tell. You can tell them to your mother, to your younger siblings, to some of the older people in the village. But no one else.” He pointed his finger at her. 

“Sir,” she laughed, throwing her head back, “no one in this town is going to harm me! I’ve lived here my whole life and everyone knows my mother! No one would harm the daughter of the ‘fair maiden of the village’!”

He leaned back in his chair, covering his eyes with his hand. He tapped his other hand’s fingers on the armrest.

“It’s something else, Sir Claudius. You know they wouldn’t harm me. It’s something else.” She leaned forward, as curious as a cat.

“Athena, please,” he begged, desperate for her to stop and yet solemn. “Haven’t you tortured me enough for one day?” 

The young girl bit her bottom lip. She gasped several times, almost speaking, and yet drew the breath back in each time. Finally, she sighed and hung her head, her curly hair falling over her shoulders. With the firelight gleaming on her curls, it was hard to tell whether they were locks of golden hair or yellow flames. “Sir Claudius, I… If you need anything, just tell me. I will listen. I am here for you when you need to talk to someone.”

“Well, who else?” he muttered under his breath, rolling his eyes. 

“My point still stands. You know I am here for you when you are ready to tell me anything.” She held out her hand and pressed it against his. He glanced, at first disbelieving his eyes, but once her warmth dispersed into his stone-cold fingers and he saw the truth in her ocean eyes, he had no choice but to believe that she was holding his hand. That she cared. For the first time in his life, someone cared

“Thank you. I want to believe you, but I am… not quite sure just yet.” Athena’s eyes fell, pulling away from his hand, but— Sir Claudius’s grip only grew stronger, and tighter, and more intimate. She looked into his eyes, which were no longer the blue of frozen rivers or mists, but rather, the blue of the heart of flames. “Athena, thank you.”

She giggled, faltering, her lashes batting. As she dropped her head, a slight double chin poked out beneath her face. “You’re welcome… Claudius. You don’t mind if I call you that, do you?” She ran her thumb over his hand. At first, Claudius thought she was feeling his scars, but after several moments passed, he knew she wasn’t. 

Sir Claudius’s fangs poked out beneath his lips, forming a slight smile, and his pale skin morphed into a deep reddish-purple. “Not at all, Athena. Not at all.”

Chapter 32: Chapter XXIX - A Library of Love

Chapter Text

Stolen glances became routine for Claudius and Athena. He followed her around the castle, watching her skirts flowing down the hallway from behind corners. And whenever she could, Athena tip-toed to the Grand Hall to catch a glimpse of his furrowed brow and focused gaze while he read. 

Sir Claudius sensed her presence but assumed she was cleaning and didn’t wish to disturb her. Athena, too, sensed his presence but assumed he was checking her progress and didn’t wish to disturb him. 

One shivering morning in late November, while Athena cleaned the kitchens—scrubbing china and drying glasses—she thought she sensed him. Lifting her head, the girl sniffed, making sure it was his firewood scent. Not long after, her eyes smiled, rising at the corners, for whenever Claudius was around, the castle always seemed a bit warmer. 

Athena crossed one foot over the other, trotting to the cabinet. She lifted up on the balls of her feet to put the silvery cup away, when, out of the corner of her eye, she saw something gleaming. Two red eyes. 

Her stomach split in two and she dropped the cup. A dull thud sounded throughout the kitchen as it collapsed into the stone floor. 

The two eyes transformed into Sir Claudius, swooping out of the dark corridor, and striding into the kitchen. One of his scarred arms flew down, picked up the cup, and put it back in Athena’s hand. She stood as frightened as a young tree in its first storm. 

“‘Tis alright, Miss Everleigh. The cup is durable. It comes from the oldest set of dinnerware that I have.” He wiped his hands across his black pants. 

Athena blinked several times, and after each blink, Claudius’s eyes became more and more refined—one moment they were melting metal within an inferno of a furnace, and the next they were silvery-blue stone. 

“I’m sorry, Sir.” She fumbled around, fiddling with the flowery petals on her pink dress. “I thought you were…” 

“Did my eyes turn red?”

“Yes.”

“I thought so.” Sir Claudius left, expressionless, with no color in his face. 

“Oh… oh….” Athena glanced at the ground, then took a deep breath before darting after him. “Did you need something?”

“No, no, nothing at all.” He waved his hand at her, sorting his way through the corridors leading back to the dining area. His long cape flapped up-and-down, whipping Athena’s skin and turning it blushy and splotchy. Though she did not feel a thing.

"Are you sure?” 

He paused, brought his fingers up to his mouth, and squinted his bright eyes, nearly shutting the shutters to his soul. “Actually, Athena… there is something I wanted to show you.” 

The girl’s cheeks ripened. A light gasp exited her mouth, shaking the dust surrounding her. “As you wish, Sir.” 

The pair marched on. Sir Claudius moseyed through the hallways, batting away a cobweb every few seconds. Athena followed suit, her hands clasped together over her waist. She tried to force her head down but spent more time looking up to avoid stray cobwebs as well as Sir Claudius’s cape. And then, after two or more minutes passed, she stopped avoiding them entirely because there was no means to do so in the dark.

“I don’t come here often, since I typically read the same books over and over again, and those I keep in my master’s quarters,” Sir Claudius spoke, leaning his head back, nodding to Athena.

“I figured that you would read millions of books, Sir!” Athena exclaimed. “Only the same few?”

“Hundred. Same few-hundred. They all stay in my room and I’ll pick them up again when I feel like reading a particular one.”

“Oh! That’s more like what I expected.” Athena furrowed her thin brows. “Where are we going, Sir?”

Claudius stopped in the middle of the corridor, his black figure enshrouded with more black. Athena had trusted the sound of his deep breaths and squeaking boots to guide her, but in silence, there was no guide. 

“It’s a surprise.”

Athena took a few steps forward. “Really?! Oooh… tell me!” She bumped into his back—a curved brick wall—and immediately flew in the opposite direction. 

He chuckled, the sound rich and thick like melted dark chocolate. “Don’t be so eager. I cannot tell you, Athena. That is the point of ‘surprises’.”

The girl regained her footing and huffed. “If you insist.”

“Which I do.” Once again, he started treading through the corridor, his strides at least a foot longer than her own. “We are almost there, Athena. You won’t have to stretch out your needle-thin patience any longer.” 

Athena gasped. “I do not have needle-thin patience! Nothing of the sort.” She crossed her arms and flared her nostrils.

A silent smile grew on Sir Claudius’s face, summoned from the silvery-blue flames of his heart. 

Even in darkness, where Sir Claudius could only see the corridor in front of him and Athena nothing at all, music echoed between the two. 

The girl sped up, almost running, in an attempt to hear his breaths and the shifting of his clothing as he walked. “How long has it been since you’ve ventured to this place?”

Sir Claudius’s smile leaked, dripping from his beard and dropping onto the floor. “Since the day that Henri went missing.”

“Oh…” Rubbing her palms together, Athena choked: “I know you do not like talking about this—”

“This much is true,” Sir Claudius groaned.

But—I appreciate you telling me anyway.” Her fingers collapsed over one another and her palms clasped together. “Mother always tells me that it is not good to keep secrets because it is like a boiling pot of water with the lid on top.”

“She must not be a good secret-keeper then.” Sir Claudius rolled his eyes. 

“Oh, she did not mean that everyone must know your secrets. Rather, that only a select few should, or even one person. For instance, she tells me everything.” Athena poked her chest out and shut her eyes, proud.

Sir Claudius walked along with no retorts or comebacks—just the sound of his squeaking boots and deep, animal-like breaths.

“And Claudius,” Athena whispered, “you are my one.”

The man’s eyes spidered around the corridor, from the cobwebs to each slab of stone to his black coat, without once glancing at Athena. “I am flattered by your trust in me, Athena, although I’m not sure you’ve made the best choice in your ‘one’.”

“And why do you say that?” she retorted, her hands on her hips.

“Because then—” He choked on the words and sped up both in speech and stride. “I have a responsibility to make you my one.”

Athena’s eyes flashed, a silvery gleam glittering across her orbs. Her mouth hung agape and the corners of her lips lifted upward with each passing shift of her feet. She skipped like a pony to catch up to him, almost reaching out for his shoulder blades. “I would be honored, Sir!”

“That wasn’t a request.” The man frowned, the corners of his lips melting and drooping. His tall frame bent over the slightest bit.

Athena reached for his cape, grasping onto his tightly, pulling herself closer to him, before singing: “I know.” 

Thousands of pricks of ashes twinged Sir Claudius’s insides—singeing him, taking droplets of blood, stoning him with sharp pebbles instead of boulders. And then those small cinders and ashes became consumed in a wildfire of flames, swooping from his stomach and heart and ribcage and filling the rest of his body—from his black boots to the roots of hair on his head. Athena had his broad shoulders within her small, delicate hands. How, he did not know. And then, as if from an animal instinct somewhere in the heart of his mind, one of his scarred hands came to rest on one of her smooth, soft hands. Why, he did not know. 

He stopped, and the girl bumped into his back. Sir Claudius twirled around—as stealthy as a dancer—with Athena’s fingers still clasped gently in his palm until he faced her. “We are here… Athena.”

“We are?!” she called, looking around the corridor, though her pupils fell on nothing. Sir Claudius watched with dragon eyes as she moved her head around and around. He grinned until her eyes somehow fell on top of him. “I didn’t know you could dance, Claudius.”

The man clanged his teeth together. “I learned, actually, while in Dublin some years ago.”

“Really?” 

“Yes.” 

The pair faced one another, hands touching, as though about to dance—before Sir Claudius broke away. “Here is the door, Athena. Stand back.” She retraced her steps several paces, until hitting the shivering stone wall. Each separate slab pressed deeper into her dress. 

A suction-cup-like sound reverberated throughout the corridors. Athena faced the sound, but still, there was no light. 

“Close your eyes for me, won’t you, Athena?”

“What?! It’s not like I can see anyway!”

“Just do it, for me.”

“Fine.” 

She closed her eyes just enough so that Sir Claudius would think they were shut tight, leaving only a slight slit open. 

All of a sudden, a multitude of light pounded Athena to the ground. She turned away. “Ach!”

Sir Claudius chuckled, pacing toward her. “Now, if you would have just closed your eyes all the way like I asked you to, this wouldn’t have happened.”

“Whatever.” Sir Claudius reached out a hand, but she waved it away. Athena rose to her feet by herself, keeping one hand over her eyes.

“I thought that I was supposed to be your ‘one’.” He smirked.

“You are! Just not for trivial things like this.” 

“Here, keep your eyes closed and give me your hands.” Athena gripped onto his large knuckles and tight muscles. He pulled her forward. Sun rays flashed on her golden hair, turning it a fiery yellow. Sir Claudius listened to the pretty music flowing from her locks. Although he had almost forgotten what instrumental music sounded like, Athena reminded him. Soon enough, her shoes, flowery dress, and entire form became enveloped in the sun’s rays. 

“You promise you’re not looking, Athena?”

“I promise. I’m blind already.”

One of the corners of his mouth rose. He let go of her hands. 

“Do I open them now?”

Sir Claudius glanced about, checking every corner of the room for anything that would alarm Athena.

“Yes.”

Eyelids quivering, Athena faced upward. Her immediate gaze fell on Sir Claudius, who stood with one arm clutching the other. He faltered under her eyes. “It hasn’t been cleaned in over twenty years, Athena. I apologize for that— But I thought perhaps you would still like to see it.”

Perplexed, one eyebrow higher than the other, Athena’s gaze flew up from the tallest man she had ever seen and to the tallest room she had ever seen. 

She sucked in a quick breath of air, before clutching onto her heart. 

Before her, with over fifty immaculate shelves of books, was the grandest library she had ever seen. Books of all sizes, shapes, and colors—scrolls with varying degrees of decay—at least ten tables and writing desks—and hundreds of pens, papers, quills… they were all here. Flowing down from each shelf were multiple pieces of fabric as well as tapestries—obviously made by Henri—with depictions of red and black dragons swirling in the air. Below the dragons were hoards of books, guarded by the dragons.

While Athena remained in mid-thought, galloping around the room, going from shelf-to-shelf and tapestry-to-tapestry, Claudius interrupted with the words: “I did not want the grandest castle of all time, Athena. Although, I had the gold to do so. I still do.” He scratched his head. “But, I did want the grandest library of all time. It is actually what takes up most of the space in my castle.”

“How many books are in here?!” the girl yelped, pirouetting about and about and yet each time only finding more and more books. As she gazed harder, she found there were other rooms besides just the one. She sprinted to the other sections of the library.

Sir Claudius followed, taking smaller steps. He crossed his arms. “I’ve lost count by this point. I’ve collected so many over the years.” He walked over to one of the maroon shelves, feeling of its wood and taking in its tall stature. Sliding one of the books off of the shelf, he read the first page, yawned, and slid it back in. 

“Have you read all of these?!” Athena fished through several rows, running her hands over all of the dust-bound spines. 

“Yes, at some point. Most of them don’t hold any interest for me anymore though.”

“Aww….” She pouted. “Why not? How can you possibly lose interest?!”

“I just… did, I suppose. The minute I thought I was responsible for Henri’s death… I stopped being adventurous in reading. I haven’t stepped foot in here in over twenty years, nor have I purchased another book.” Scratching his beard, the man spoke, “For that reason, the library is yours.”

Athena dropped the scroll in her hand, the metal clanking onto the stone ground. “Mah—mine?!” Her mouth hung wide open and tears bubbled beneath her eyelids. “Oh, Sir, I can’t! This is your library!”

“I’m content with the books I have stored in my master’s quarters. You may have all of the ones in here. Take them home with you….” He faced the ground, sifting his boot across the dust-ridden floor. “You may want to clean this place first though.”

“Oh, yes, Sir! I will clean it right away, Sir!”

“I’ll leave you to it, then. When you walk back, it’s a straight shot to the corridor outside of the kitchen. If you want, take one of those torches on the walls.” Sir Claudius sucked in air and then a flame of fire exited his throat, lighting the torch on the wall. Athena watched in surprise and abject horror. She shivered.

“Good day, Miss Everleigh.” He bowed, then paced toward the exit. 

“Wait, my supplies?” She reached out a hand.

“I must have forgotten. I’ll bring them to you.” He didn’t even look her way.

“Thank you, Claudius.” She tugged at her hair.

The man locked his palms upon the doorframe and, slowly, turned to face her. “You’re welcome, Athena.”

And then, he was gone.

Chapter 33: Chapter XXX - True Form

Chapter Text

Athena flipped another page in her book. The air was soft and quiet in the library; all of the shelves and tables and lounges were freshly clean. It almost reminded her of the time when she had to put her crying baby sister to bed—tragic at first, but once over with, all was calm and gentle. Athena fell asleep in the bed next to the crib. The white linens were fresh powdered snow and she dreamt of the very first snowflakes of winter. That’s what the library was like.

Athena lifted her head. The window was fogged, and tiny droplets of rain and snow mixed together in the air outside. She shivered and her shoulders caved in.

Sir Claudius twisted in the seat next to her, then closed his book and stood up.

“Claudius, where are you going?” Athena coughed. Mist flew out of her mouth.

Claudius walked toward the fireplace, picked up a few logs, and then whispered, “Watch.” 

Athena paid attention to the slight grin on his lips.

He held the logs in front of him, perhaps a meter away from his barrel chest, then sucked in all the air of the room into his nostrils. Not two seconds later, it looked as though a train was about to come out of his mouth tunnel. And before Athena could blink, the logs, and consequently Sir Claudius’s fingers, were on fire. 

“Claudius!” Athena rushed to his side.

“I’m fine, Athena.” He laughed. “I’m alright, see?” The man threw the logs onto the fireplace then waved his flaming hands around. 

Athena stepped back.

“You still don’t believe me?” Claudius asked.

“No, I believe you,” she said, wincing. “I’m just glad it’s not me whose hands are on fire.”

“Perks of being a dragon, I suppose.” He looked down. “One of the few.”

“What other perks are there?” Athena asked. She still had her book in hand and pulled it closer to her chest. She swung her curls around to her front side. 

Sir Claudius somehow turned off his flaming hands and his eyes darted about the room like a caged bird. “Why... do you want to know?”

“No reason. I’m just curious to know more about you,” Athena replied.

“You don’t need to know about that part of me, Athena.” He chuckled, sitting back down in his chair and picking up his book.

Athena marched over to him, lifted his chin with the cover of her book, and said, “I may not need to know, Sir, but I want to know.” She huffed. 

Sir Claudius’s mouth dropped, pushing the book down slightly. His flame-blue eyes went from the book to Athena, and back to the book again. “Fine,” he said. “If you’re so inclined,” he pushed her book away with one finger, “then come back at sundown and I’ll show you a few of the perks of being a dragon.”

Athena dropped the book; it landed on Claudius’s boots. Her mouth formed an “O” shape before transforming into the brightest grin. “Really? Oh, thank you, Sir Claudius! I can’t wait!!” She danced around the room, twirling her skirts and kicking her feet up in the air. “And all your powers! And how big you are!”

Sir Claudius picked the book up off of his feet. “Just don’t make me regret it,” he said, crossing his arms.

“Oh, I won’t!” Athena squealed, doing an old jig. “Do you know it?”

“What?”

“This jig.”

“Of course, I do,” he replied. “I learned it a hundred or two hundred years ago. Step aside.” Sir Claudius leaped out of the seat and began doing the old Irish jig. He looked rather out-of-place with his tailored suit and black boots (Athena had only seen poor men on the street doing it), but his movements were nothing short of perfect. Athena did it alongside him, humming; he joined in. Their humming was the melody while their shoes scraping the floor became the beating drum.

The library was warm and loud, like home.

~❦︎~

“Where are you goin’, Athena?” Ma scrubbed one of her pots in the sink.

Athena laid a hand on the knob of the back door. Her body went numb. “Just wanted to take an evenin’ stroll.”

“Hmm…” Ma didn’t even bat an eyelash. “Off you go then.”

“Are you sure? I can help around the house if you—”

“I said, ‘Off you go.’ Now get goin’.” Ma scrubbed harder.

“Alright, then.” Athena opened the door; she glanced behind her a few times and saw the back of Ma’s pale dress from the sink. “Bye, Ma,” she cooed. 

“Bye.”

~❦︎~

“Ma was actin’ so strange this evenin’. I don’t know what was wrong with her,” Athena said, stroking the handle of her cup of tea. The fire crackled and popped a few feet away. 

“Really? I wonder why,” Sir Claudius said, leaning into the fireplace. 

“Well, she knows that every time I say I’m goin’ for an evenin’ stroll that I’m really goin’ to go cattin’ off somewhere.”

“Except not this time.”

“No.” Athena smiled. “Not this time.” 

The dungeon wasn’t quite as expansive as the library, nor as well-lit, but all the sounds Athena and Sir Claudius made echoed for several seconds, bouncing off the long, long walls. It seemed that the dark corners went on forever, leading to longer hallways, even though they didn’t. 

She looked into her tea and saw freckles, almond-shaped eyes, and a small, round chin. “Claudius.”

“Yes, Athena dear?” He turned his head toward her.

“Do you think I’m… attractive?” 

Sir Claudius’s cheeks flushed. He brushed his sleeves with his scarred hands. “Uh… Of course, I do.” He gazed into the fire.

Athena let out a puff of air; ripples formed in the tea. “Even when I was pale and sickly, you still thought so?”

“Well, I know you did not like yourself when you appeared that way, so no, not as much—but only because you yourself did not like how you looked.”

“That’s fair. I hated bein’ pale. I much prefer bein’ this way. I feel…” She breathed in. “I feel myself again.”

“I always get sunburnt whenever I go outside. I suppose after years and years of mostly staying inside, my skin just doesn’t want to accept anything different. I can stand the rays for a few minutes, but soon I feel those blisters and have to go back inside.”

“I can’t imagine!” Athena put her tea down on the table next to her. “You, of all people, getting sunburnt! Earlier, your hands were flamin’ for God’s sake!”

“I know, I know. It’s hard to understand. I don’t understand it myself. But it’s the way I am.”

Athena shook her head. “Do you know what I used to do when I got sunburnt as a child?”

“What?” Claudius asked.

“I’d put mint leaves on the red spots so they’d heal faster. After bein’ out in the sun every day though, I think my skin just got used to it and now I don’t have sunburns anymore. Maybe one every now and then but not as bad as when I was a child.”

“Perhaps I just don’t like being out in the sun.”

Athena rolled her eyes. “Everyone likes the sun, Claudius. Hush with that.”

“I like fire, but not the sun. Fire is sun enough for me.” 

“I just don’t understand you sometimes, Claudius.” 

The fireplace in the dungeon crackled on, reverberating off the walls. Dark gray columns made of stone held up the ceiling. 

“Are you ready, Athena?” Claudius asked.

She lifted her head. Flames reflected in her eyes. “Oh, yes, please!” Athena jumped out of the stone-cold chair and reached out to Sir Claudius. She grabbed onto his hands; her pearly white teeth glinted in the flames. 

Sir Claudius beamed. His scruffy, scarred face wasn’t as harsh as the first time she met him. “I’m nervous.” He laughed and sweat trickled down his forehead; he pulled away from her. 

“Why?” Athena spoke, her eyes losing their shine. She chased after him.

“I’m afraid you won’t like what you see. You know, I won’t be able to talk to you.” 

“I figured as much. You’ll be a dragon for Pete’s sake,” she said, throwing her hands in the air.

“Maybe this was a bad idea,” he said. “I’m not ready—”

“Shh…” Athena stroked his beard. 

He melted into her palm and his pupils dilated until his eyes went almost fully black.

“I’m already here,” Athena spoke, “and I will be your friend no matter what you look like.”

“Okay,” he whispered. “Your hand is cold. Let me help.” Claudius removed her palm from his cheek, took hold of her arm, and planted a kiss on the top of her hand. It was the warmest kiss she had ever received. 

Athena lifted an eyebrow. “You know, Claudius, my hand is not the only part of me that’s cold.” She wrapped her slender fingers around his rocksteady hand. “Feel.” She pulled the back of his hand to her cheek.

Claudius tremored. He took a step closer to her then pushed a single curl behind her ear. “Yes, your cheeks are cold, too.” 

He leaned in. 

Athena closed her eyes. 

Claudius kissed her right cheek. His lips felt like a warm, wet stone, worn away and smoothed out by river water. 

She let out a hot breath; it misted and touched his pale skin. 

Claudius lifted his other hand and rested it under her chin.

Athena remained stiff, lost in him.

Soon, he pulled away and Athena opened her eyes, exasperated. 

“Are you warm now?” Claudius asked.

She nodded, her mouth hanging wide open.

“Good.” He walked back a few steps. “Stay there.”

“Where are you goin’?” Athena asked.

“It’s time. I want to ensure your safety. Please, do not come too close.” He backed away farther.

“Of course, Claudius, though I’m positive you’ll not endanger me in any way.” Athena grinned, tapping her toes on the stone floor.

Claudius grimaced. He sucked in air and it whistled in his teeth. “Stand away from the fireplace, please.” He closed his eyes.

Athena glanced behind her at the flames. “Why?”

“Just do as I say.” Claudius re-opened his eyes; they had small fires in them.

Athena’s heart skipped a beat. She ran around to the other side of the fireplace and backed into the wall. Gripping onto the protruding stones, she tried to calm her breathing. 

The flames in the fireplace began to sway back-and-forth, as though sprouting from a fountain. They swirled about and about, growing until the entire fireplace was encased. Athena winced, shutting her eyes and putting her hands in front of her face as the flames whirled out of the fireplace and shot into the night air. 

The dungeon lit up. Athena screamed. All of the flames circled about Sir Claudius. He reached out to touch them, and when he did, his fingers started to burn. His arms and hands turned an ashy black color. 

No, wait. He wasn’t burning. Those were his scales. 

The ashes on his skin turned to shiny black scales. Every now and then ash would fall and it would be bright red, and so the scale would turn red, too. They all settled into his skin until he became fully black with small pricks of red every five centimetres or so. 

Standing before Athena was something the size of Sir Claudius, although it looked nothing like him. He was no longer a man nor was he a dragon, but something in-between.

“Athena!” he growled, his voice dropping, becoming a harsh bass instead of baritone.

She fell to the ground, protecting her face but keeping one eye peeled.

The noise of shredding clothes ripped her eardrums open. The flames tripled in size, and with them, so grew Sir Claudius. 

The heat from the flames hugged Athena; she felt its arms wrapped around her and her face turned red. 

Sir Claudius roared: small spurts at first, but after a minute, his roars became full-size in sound and strength. 

Athena covered her ears. She glanced up and only saw a fire, with a shadow of a dragon trapped inside. 

Moments later, the flames began to fall. Smoke replaced them. The heat unwrapped its arms from around Athena’s face and neck and she rose to her feet.

The dragon lay on the ground, taking shallow breaths. 

Athena coughed and swatted away the smoke. She took the neckline of her dress and covered her mouth with it. “Claudius!” she yelped. 

A short grunt echoed in the dungeon. 

The smoke fell away, breaking over the dragon’s body. There he was. Almost fully black, with silvery horns burgeoning from atop his skull. His tail had a red tip on the end and was shaped almost like a diamond. 

“Claudius, please, let me know you’re alright. I’m fine, but are you?” Athena pleaded as she ran toward his body before stopping right in front of his head.

He opened one eye, the size of Athena’s face. The pupil was small and thinly strung at first, but grew into a circle before landing on her. His dragon eye was the same blue as hers.

Tears streamed down Athena’s face. “It’s you. It’s really you.” 

~❦︎~❦︎~

End of Part III - Master and Apprentice

Chapter 34: Part IV - The Cat and the Dragon

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

The only moments of his life that Sir Claudius enjoyed being a dragon were the ones spent alongside Athena. Prior to that late November night when she saw him for the first time, he would try to sleep and forget about his monstrous form. But with her, being a dragon was almost tolerable. He knew by the way she looked into his eyes, the way she recognized him, that she saw the man inside and not the monster.

He still despised being a dragon; he still longed for complete humanity, but with Athena, he could at least feel human for a few hours during the night when she came to visit. 

The first few months, Athena was completely infatuated with his dragon form. She would beg for him to burn up the stone walls of the dungeon with his flaming breath, which he did only because she asked. She wanted to know every small detail about his dragon form, from his smoking nose to the tip of his spiky tail.

Sometimes, he would let her climb on him, either in human or cat form, to feel his scales. She even asked to ride on him through the woods under the moonlight, to which he declined firmly, ensuring her he was not some pet, but rather, a ferocious beast.

“Well, I am, too,” she would argue. “Cats can be ferocious too, you know. I could slash your eye out if I wanted.”

“And I can burn you to ashes if I wanted.”

As the months went on, and the snow melted into bulbs, Athena’s curiosity diminished. Something about her demeanor changed. She ceased giggling and squealing, and instead only smiled demurely whenever amused. Sir Claudius was not certain what to make of this change, but he welcomed it. 

On Athena’s seventeenth birthday, in the heart of spring, the two of them spent time together in the tulip garden, picnicking. It was there that Athena revealed to Sir Claudius that she was beginning to feel like less of a child and more of a woman. She didn’t care for children’s books anymore and hadn’t for a long time. She began wearing less and less of her girlhood gowns (not only because they no longer fit her, but because she didn’t care for them anymore). And her mother let her. Her mother was finally letting her become a lady, instead of strapping her into pink and blue outfits. 

Sir Claudius liked the change because Athena liked the change. He was happy that she started wearing more and more of the wardrobe her Aunt Helena had bought for her. Every few months, Aunt Helena sent Athena new gowns (sent with a handwritten note from Henri himself, wishing her well). Athena and Sir Claudius would read the note together, and then Athena would put on a show for Sir Claudius. She changed in one of the guest rooms and then surprised him with each new gown. 

As for Athena’s new house, she grew to like it. It was large enough for all of her family, unlike her old home. She never forgave her father for purchasing it without her knowledge, but she understood why he did it. Athena made enough money for her father to order a hand-tailored suit from Henri, and he wore it for a job interview in Dublin. He got the job. With both Athena’s income and her father’s, the family could afford only the best amenities for the house. They even hired four servants.

Mr. Everleigh assured his daughter she did not have to work for Sir Claudius any longer, since he was making money at a law firm in Dublin, but she wanted to stay. Sir Claudius began cleaning the house as well as Athena. She taught him how to sweep and mop and do the dishes, and he taught her how to write sonnets. Even with the mutual exchange, he still gave her his fair share of gold—even more than when she began working. 

One day, late in the summertime, Athena got up the nerve to ask why Sir Claudius treated her so. He did not reply.

Autumn crept closer and Athena and Sir Claudius’s bond only grew stronger. Throughout the day, they cleaned, read, and wrote together in the library, and tended to the tulip and rose gardens. At night, they huddled together by the fireplace. During those late-night hours, Athena informed Sir Claudius of her family’s accomplishments as well as drama: how her father was a successful lawyer and loved being in Dublin—the only setback being he was closer to his sister.

Neither Sir Claudius nor Athena hardly got any sleep. Spending time together was more important. Sometimes the two worried Athena’s parents would get suspicious because of all the hours they spent together—but Charles didn’t care as long as Athena dropped a sack of gold in his hand at the end of each day, and Isolde trusted the púcaí’s words that the two needed to spend as much time together as possible.

November of 1906 arrived. Sir Claudius soaked up as much time in the day as he could with Athena, and loathed the rest of the day when he was away from her. And every other time they were together, he would kiss her gently on the hand. Sometimes he wished he could kiss her somewhere other than the hand or arm (or seldom times, cheek), but he knew Athena wouldn’t like it. He knew that he only kissed her for his own selfish reasons and that she didn’t really want it. She only gave permission to be kind. 

But every day his feelings for her grew stronger. Whether as a man where he could fully comprehend the feelings and control them—or as a beast where he felt only wildfires on the inside of his stomach, his feelings grew stronger.

Notes:

In case y'all didn't catch on, there is a bit of a time skip taking place in this story. It's now late 1906 and Athena is 17. A year has passed since Chapter XXX.

Chapter 35: Chapter XXXI - The Mistress's Bedroom

Chapter Text

“And then the goddess in a fit of jealous rage turned Medusa into the monster we all know her as today: a gorgon,” read Athena. “What a story!” She poked Sir Claudius scales, checking to see if he was still awake. “Are you awake? Are you listenin’?” 

He snorted, smoke coming out of his nostrils.

“Then why do you have your eyes closed?” She closed the book and folded her arms.

Sir Claudius opened his eyes wide and moved his enormous head closer to her so she could see. 

“Fine, I trust you. I’m getting tired myself, anyway.” She yawned. “It’s almost mornin’.” Athena looked out of one of the dungeon cracks, seeing if dawn had broken yet.

“It’s almost time,” she said. “Do you want me to stay?”

He sat silent.

“Oh, please, Claudius?” She walked over to him and patted the scales on his head. “I’ve never seen you transform back into a man before. Please, just this one time.”

He looked off into the dying embers of the fire and rattled the scales on the end of his tail, whipping it around.

Athena got right up into his face and grinned, her dimples seeping into her cheeks. 

Sir Claudius swung his head back-and-forth: no. He then gestured, lifting one of his clawed arms and motioning for her to turn around. 

She grunted, stiffened up her body, and turned around like a nutcracker, to face the other side of the dungeon. “Why not?” She lifted one of her eyebrows. “I’ve done everything you’ve asked, read you your favorite stories, and made you tea!” She listened for any sound, the shifting of scales on the stone floor, the crackling of the fire, but there was nothing. “I don’t understand why it has to be this way.” 

Claudius cleared his throat.

Athena turned bright red. She spun around and saw Sir Claudius standing there, buttoning up his sleeves.

“You already turned?” Athena blushed. “Oh… now I understand.”

Claudius laughed. “I’m not exactly clothed when I transform, Athena. That’s why I don’t like you staying here past two or three o’clock. I was just—” he yawned, “so tired I didn’t realize what time it was. I believe I slept through the story of Medusa as well.”

Athena put her hands on her hips. “I knew it.”

Claudius finished buttoning his sleeves and then grabbed a comb from inside the Chester drawers next to the fireplace. “I’m sure you’re wondering why nothing… out of the ordinary occurred when I transformed.”

“I wanted to see all of the flames! I thought there would surely be some.” Athena pouted, drawing near to him.

“When I turn into a dragon, I feel all of the burning sensations, but turning human… I’ve slept through it so many times and only wake up when I can’t stand the freezing stones any longer. I can’t explain why. There are… so many things I don’t know about myself. The elder of my clan never did quite explain certain elements of my curse.” He looked off into the distance. “But I digress, you now know why I don’t like for you to be here when I transform into a human. I don’t much like it when you’re here as I transform into a dragon either. Do you know how many clothes have been shredded because of your curiosity?”

Athena giggled, putting a hand over her mouth. “Oh, stop. You hate those ole things anyway,” she said. “I can tell those outfits are older—not Henri’s work.”

“Well, I suppose I can’t fault you for that then. You’re right. I hate those outfits.” He smirked. “But once I run out of them, you’ll have to leave.”

“Fine,” Athena said. “Deal.” 

“Now, get to work,” he said sternly, a boom in his voice. But his face soon melted into a playful grin.

Athena giggled. “Oh, but I can’t. I’m too sleepy.” She waltzed over and fainted in his arms, one arm over her forehead. He caught her.

“Now, Miss Everleigh, this is quite improper and no way to act around your employer.” He brushed a hair away from her forehead.

She snored. 

“Athena!” he laughed. “You’ve got to be joking, Athena.” He lugged her a few feet away until dropping her into his chair.

She grinned, snoring even louder. 

“I can’t stand you sometimes,” he said, kneeling down before her. “Perhaps you should go to one of the castle bedrooms and doze off for an hour or two.”

“Carry me,” she whispered. 

He rolled his eyes. “Why must you always be so dramatic?”

“Let us not forget how dramatic you can be, Sir Claudius.” She wrapped her arms around his neck.

He picked her up bridal style, bouncing her a few times before getting a good grip. 

Athena felt his neck muscles, rubbing up and down his veins. She then trailed her hand down his suit. The soft fabric felt like flour under her skin. She looked up and only saw his black mustache and beard. He looked straight ahead as he walked out of the dungeon doors. Athena cradled herself into his chest and shut her eyes. 

A few minutes passed; Athena felt Sir Claudius climbing up several sets of stairs. When she opened her eyes again, he was laying her down over an animal skin bed. She spread her fingers out across it and breathed in the scent of the room: old forest pine. 

“Are you cold?” Claudius asked.

“A little.” Athena snuggled up to the animal skin cover.

Claudius breathed in a puff of air. Athena watched as flames rose in his throat. He then blew out just enough flame to light up the fireplace. 

The room lit up. It was the first one that Athena had seen that wasn’t made of stone. Rather, the walls were all planks of dark, golden-brown wood. The bed was in a canopy-shape, made of thick logs.

“I haven’t been in this one yet.” Athena glanced about. “What was it for?”

“It was one of the original rooms. It was meant to be… the Mistresses’ bedroom.” Claudius fumbled with the buttons on his sleeve.

“Oh,” Athena said.

“It’s the nicest room out of all of the originals,” said Claudius. “You can come in here to rest anytime you would like.”

Athena furrowed her brows. “What about your room? Shouldn’t the Master’s be nicer?” She looked up at him.

“It should be.” Claudius rubbed the back of his neck. “There’s a reason I haven’t wanted you to clean it. It’s… quite a mess, but it’s my mess. I understand it and don’t want it to be changed.” 

“Oh, alright,” Athena said, sinking below the covers. “Well, thank you for letting me stay here. I’ll wake up at nine and get to work.” She turned over, facing the wall.

Claudius winced and drew himself in. “Athena…”

“Hmm?” 

She sounds so tired, he thought. I really shouldn’t bother her anymore, but...

Beads of sweat dripped out of every one of Sir Claudius’s pores. His bed-head only became greasier and grimier. And the only words he could think of were…

“What is it, Claudius?” Athena turned back over, her eyebrows knitted together. She had grown so much since the first day he met her. From a timid, shy little thing with some fat under her chin, to a lively girl who always knew how to make him laugh, to now… a beautiful woman who he couldn’t live without.

“Athena, I—” He choked on the words. They almost came out, but every time he just sucked them back in, as though he were about to loosen an arrow but drew back the bowstring at the last second.

“Your parents,” he said, “probably wouldn’t like it if they knew you were asleep in my castle.” He could breathe again.

She smiled. “Well, they don’t have to know.”

“I suppose you’re right.”

He patted her hand, stood up, and walked out of the room.

Chapter 36: Chapter XXXII - On the Eve of Love

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Milly kneaded her paws into Sir Claudius’s snake-like skin. He grumbled and growled every time one of her claws dug beneath his scales, then she retracted them and licked his small wound. Claudius’s eyes popped; the feeling of a cat tongue over his skin was unlike anything he had ever felt before—rough, like the coarse sand on the beach below the castle, but also wet and warm like water straight out of the kettle. 

She laid on his back, at the ridge between his shoulder blades, facing his tail. Every now and then, his tail shifted from side-to-side and Milly followed it, her pupils dilated. 

Sir Claudius grunted, picking up his gargantuan head and swinging it around to face her. He nudged Milly’s hind legs. 

She sprouted up like a bird and turned to face him. 

Claudius’s eyes had red veins around them, all puffy. He snorted and motioned for her to lay back down. 

Milly hissed, climbing down his back and prancing off into the dungeon. 

He rolled his eyes, threw his head down on the ground, and clamped his claws over his ears while Milly zoomed around the dungeon floor. Her little pitter-patters echoed every which way. Every few seconds, a small gray wisp of a tail would pass through Claudius’s line of sight. 

Milly vocalized, chirping as she skittered about. A few snowflakes came through the cracks in the walls and Milly chased after them. 

Claudius yawned and rolled over onto his other side, a loud boom reverberated off the dungeon walls. 

Milly reared back at first but soon trotted over to him. She poked and prodded his tail—it bounced, and so she played with it like a ball of yarn. 

The dragon growled and puffed a flame out of his mouth. Milly stopped. She marched over to his neck and snuggled up. Claudius wrapped his arm around her. Her purrs soothed him to sleep, just as his immense warmth soothed her. 

~❦︎~

When Milly awoke, she no longer felt that all-enveloping heat. She reached out a paw, but only received the cold stone in return. 

From behind her came rustling noises. Her ears pricked. 

“Oh, Milly, you’re awake,” said Claudius. He wore a plain brown robe and was combing his beard. 

Milly stretched and yawned, leaning forward onto her front limbs and lengthening her back. She walked over to Claudius and rubbed up against his legs. He petted her and scratched under her chin. 

“You don’t think your parents will be upset that you’re not home on Christmas Eve?” he asked.

She shook her head “no.”

“As long as you’re home for Christmas day?”

She nodded.

“Well, then.” Claudius sighed. “I’m flattered you want to spend Christmas Eve with me, but I must be honest with you: I don’t know much of what to do. I’ve never spent Christmas Eve or Christmas Day with anybody before. Last year, we only exchanged gifts, and I’m delighted to do that, but…”

Milly nudged her face into his knee as if to say, “It’s okay.” 

Claudius sat down in his chair and she leaped onto his lap, purring. Milly shut her eyes and curled her tail around her.

“If only you could have been this calm last night,” Sir Claudius said, resting his other hand under his chin.

Milly shot up, opened her eyes, and dug her claws into his robe. 

“Ouch! Hey!” He lifted her off of his lap and dropped her onto the ground. “Just because you’re half-cat doesn’t mean you have to act like one!” Claudius folded his arms. “Now you won’t be getting your present.”

Milly perked up. Before Claudius knew it, she ran out of the room and was back, completely transformed, with her working clothes on. “What do you mean, I won’t be gettin’ my present?! We’ve talked about this exchange for months!” Athena pouted. 

“Darling, I was only joking.” Claudius patted her on the back. “Let’s go upstairs. I’ll make a kettle of tea and we can pretend it’s Christmas Day.”

~❦︎~

Athena sipped on her tea. She wrapped the blanket around her and watched the shadow of the snowflakes falling outside the window. The shadows traveled across the floor. 

Claudius exited the kitchen and made headway toward the Grand Hall. “Here we are.” He laid a tray of biscuits before her. 

The girl picked one up and stuffed it into her mouth. “Thanks,” she mumbled through chewing.

“You’re welcome, friend,” he laughed. Claudius took a seat in his chair and picked up a biscuit. He munched on it while staring into the fireplace.

“At some point today, would you like to have a snowball fight?” asked Athena, flames in her eyes. 

“A snowball fight? Are you serious?” Claudius rolled his eyes.
“I’m serious! You’ve still got a little bit of a child in you, haven’t you, Claudius?” Athena punched his shoulder.

“Well, what’s the point?” He threw his arms into the air, then turned around to face her, and smirked. “We both know who would win anyway.”

“Claudius!” Athena got up out of her chair and threw herself at him, tackling him. “You stop that.” 

“What? What?” He laughed, pushing her away. “You know I would win. I’m a dragon. Dragons are strong.”

“Psh… Well, I’m a cat. Cats are fast,” Athena retorted.

Touché,” he said. “I guess we’ll just have to see who the real winner is after we open our presents.”

“Deal,” Athena said.

They shook hands.

“Who opens whose gift first?” Athena asked. 

“I can open yours first. We’re saving the best gift for last.”

“Are you sayin’ I can’t give good gifts?” She raised up on his lap and put her hands on her hips. 

“I guess we’ll just have to see.” Claudius leaned back and stretched his arms back behind his head. He kicked his boots off and propped them onto the nearby table.

Athena tossed about on his lap. She held onto the armrests of the chair before climbing off. Brushing her sleeves, the girl huffed and said, “You’re gonna wish you could take those words back, Claudius.” 

Claudius closed his eyes and smiled. There was something about that smile. The way he suddenly grew wrinkles in the corners of his eyes, the way his thick, black mustache lifted and curled, the way his skin seemed to change color. He wasn’t pale anymore, but almost peachy. 

Athena traveled to the fireplace, picked up the box on top of it, and laid it on Claudius’s lap. It was purple and gold stripes, with a dazzling ribbon tied around it, and the box was big enough to perfectly cover his lap.

“Oh, Athena,” he crooned. “At least we know your wrapping skills are up to parr.” He chuckled, looking up at her. His eyes were so bright, especially next to his bushy black brows, like clear spring waters right next to murky rocks and mud. 

“Just open it already.” 

Claudius pursed his lips, looked at her, and tore off the ribbon. He then took off the lid of the box. His eyebrows creased together as he lifted yellow fabric into the air.

Athena held her breath. She ground her teeth together.

“Athena… this isn’t Henri’s work….” Sir Claudius held up a long-sleeved, yellow jumper, the color of morning and dawn. It had a V-neck, with a slight bit of fabric underneath the neckline. He draped the jumper over the armrest while pulling a matching yellow cap out of the box. “Who did this?” he asked. “Your mother?” 

“I did.” She tucked a hair beneath her ears and looked down at the ground. “I know it’s not the best, but I thought you needed a change from your normal color palette…. Also, nothing you wear is in style so I thought you might want some new clothes….” 

Claudius’s expressionless face shifted—slowly, at first, but soon the sides of his lips twitched until he was smiling. “Athena… this is lovely.”

“I’m glad you think so. It’s the largest crocheting project I’ve ever taken on. You’ll fit right in, in town.”

Claudius’s face suddenly fell; his brows and smile shifted downward. He put the jumper and cap back into the box and closed the lid. “Thank you, Athena. Would you like your present now?”

She nodded.

Claudius set his gift on the table; he then walked to the fireplace and grabbed another box off of the mantle. 

Athena’s eyes followed him closely as he came to sit down in his chair. He laid the plain brown box in her lap: no ribbons, no bows, nothing. “Your wrapping skills are zero, Claudius,” Athena said, arching one of her brows.

“I know, I know,” he said, holding his hands up. “I don’t have much to work with here in the castle. Cut me some slack.”

Athena lifted the top of the box. She gasped and held her hands over her mouth. “Claudius! Oh, Claudius, you didn’t!” The girl turned to face him, and then her eyes immediately went back to her gift. She picked up the two white lace gloves and ran her fingers all over them. “They match!” Athena stood up, skipped toward Claudius, and compared her gloves with his. They had the same pattern, although hers were in white lace and golden trim, while his gloves were in black with red trim. “Who did this?”

“Who do you think?” he asked.

“Henri, of course. I just wanted to be sure you weren’t hiding some secret sewing talent over there.” She winked at him, then twirled around with the gloves, as though they were a dance partner, before slipping them over her hands. “I can’t thank you enough, Claudius. They are magnificent.”

“You’re welcome, my darling,” he said, standing from the chair and making way toward her.

She admired her gloves, holding them out before her. Claudius leaned into her backside and ran his gloved fingers over hers from behind. Athena shivered at first, before sinking into him. She closed her eyes and squeezed his fingers tight. 

“Athena…” he whispered in her ear.

“Hmm…?”

“I must tell you something.” He slid his fingers down her arms before wrapping them around her waist. “It is something which I have kept secret from you for a long time.”

“What is it?” she asked.

Claudius twisted Athena around so that they could face each other. He held onto her hands and rubbed his thumbs across her lace gloves. 

Athena looked into his eyes and noticed how gaunt his face had become. Devoid of color and life. She squinted, hoping he would lift his head, but he only kept his gaze on her gloves. “You know you can tell me anything, Claudius,” she cooed.

“I know. It’s just… I’m afraid.” He winced and his legs trembled. 

“Afraid of what? Afraid of me?” She laughed.

“Afraid of what you’ll do once I tell you what I’m about to tell you.” Claudius’s heart beat faster, picking up quickly like a rabbit racing through the forest. It pounded against his chest, almost knocking him to the ground. Bile soared up into his throat and the world turned an awful purple hue, like dusk. 

“Claudius,” Athena spoke, her voice shaking. “Please, what’s wrong? Just tell me.” She pressed one hand into his high cheekbone. He felt like a skeleton. “You don’t have to be afraid when you're with me.” 

He nodded, gasping and sweating. Even through gloves, Athena felt the cold and hot parts of his body battling for triumph. One minute, he was deathly cold, and the next he was sweating with a fever.

“Athena,” Claudius said, the fireplace flames glinting on his pale skin, turning a blank canvas searing red, “you are….” He shook his head and his long black locks fell over his face. 

“I am…?” Athena lifted his chin. She gasped, then stifled back a laugh. “Is this the great Sir Claudius at a loss for words? I can’t believe it!” 

“Please, Athena, do not mock me.” He looked as though he were about to cry.

Athena drew nearer to him, completely serious. “I’m sorry, I was only trying to lift your spirits.”

“I’m afraid nothing will lift my spirits, for I know…” He clamped down on his teeth. “I know you do not feel the same.”

Athena’s eyes shot back-and-forth around the Grand Hall. “About…?”

Claudius grimaced, then growled, a deep fiery concoction bubbling up in his stomach. “I know you do not feel the same, but I must tell you anyway, for I cannot keep these affections stored away in my heart forever.”

Athena’s eyes opened wide. Cymbals crashed all around her as dawn broke within the castle. Golden beams hit her face. The snow ceased to fall. 

Claudius’s heart thawed when he looked at her. “You are the most beautiful creature I’ve ever laid eyes upon, Athena.” 

Her face turned as scarlet as breaking dawn. Her mouth dropped.

“I cannot imagine a single day without you. My life is a living hell every time you leave this castle. I want what is best for you. I want you to go about your day and spend time with your family. I only wish that I could go with you, and not be confined here for years to come.” He placed a kiss onto her gloved fingers. “I know you do not feel the same. I know you do not, for I am but a dragon who will outlive you and cannot give you all that you deserve. I cannot please you in all of the ways a man can.” He let go of her fingers, dropping her arms to her side. “I hope you will stay after this idiotic confession of mine. I hope you will still consider being my apprentice, and I promise to never bring this up again. You have my word.” 

He turned away, breaking off into the darkness. 

Athena gasped several times, catching her breath. She turned her head toward the flames of the fireplace. Its heat lessened, dying down. The snowflakes returned and the castle was cold and wintery once more. Only a second passed before she chased after Claudius. “Claudius! Claudius!” she called, squinting and turning around in all directions. “Please, come back!” Her breathing quickened. There was nothing but black in one direction, and in the other, the Grand Hall’s fireplace and sitting area. “Claudius!” Her voice echoed in the hallways, carrying all the way up to the main staircase, through the West and East Wings, and into the dungeons. “Come back,” she whispered. All that was before her was mist emitting from her own breath and heat. “Please.” She stepped foot back into the sitting area, rubbing her arms beside the fireplace. “I’m not going to leave you,” she yelled, then sighed, resting her head on her chest.

A hand touched her shoulder. “You’re not?” Claudius whipped around to her front side. He knelt before her and kissed her hand, looking into her eyes the entire time. “You don’t know how much this pleases me,” he stated, smiling and shaking his head. “I’m indebted to you, Miss Everleigh, for taking pity on me.” 

Athena furled her eyebrows. “Taking pity on you?” she asked. “I don’t understand. I’m not pitying you for anything.”

“Then why do you stay?” he asked.

Athena ran her fingers through the hairs on the top of his head. “Surely, Claudius, you must know by now. I suppose I am much worse at flirting than I thought.” She sighed and primped her hair with her other hand, pouting her lips.

Claudius watched her, confused. “I— I don’t understand, Miss Everleigh.”

“When did you start calling me ‘Miss Everleigh’ again? Hmm?” 

“Uhmm…” He faltered.

“Claudius…” She laughed, getting down on her knees. “Claudius, Claudius, Claudius,” Athena said, clucking her tongue. 

Their eyes met.

“Tell me what you feel,” she said, picking up his hands. 

“Your hands?” He pulled back.

“No, silly,” she said, shaking her head. “What do you feel… for me?”

Claudius leaned back, sitting on his heels. His head fell. “There is nothing left in my heart except love and adoration for you.” 

Athena felt tears rising up, first as a lump in her throat, before they sprouted into her eyes. “Claudius,” she said, moving her head closer to his. 

He kept his eyes on the ground, his face like a ghost.

“I do not have any beautiful words to describe my feelings for you,” Athena said. “So instead, I’ll just have to do this.” Athena pulled him closer to her, wrapping his arms around her waist. She tilted his head back and he complied before she planted a kiss on his cheek, then another on his chin. 

Color returned to Claudius’s face. Wildfires raged within him. He looked at her, and she grinned and her freckles were like stars in the night sky, and her curls were like grapevines.

“I feel the same, Claudius,” Athena said. “I have for quite some time.”

Claudius laughed nervously. “You… love me?” he said, his locks falling into his eyes. 

“Of course I do,” she said. “You have already pleased me much more than any other person on this earth. I could not ask for a better friend or love.”

“Even if I outlive you?”

“I will love you until the end of my days, Claudius. And after that, I will love you in the afterlife as a púca. There will never be a moment where I will not be loving you.”

“I will love you until the end of my days, too, Athena.” Claudius locked his fingers through hers. “And once I die, I will love you in the afterlife as a spirit. Perhaps not a púca, but as some form of a spirit.” 

“That is all I could ever ask for.” Athena kissed him once more at the top of his cheek, right below his eye.

Notes:

Sorry about the wait for this chapter! I wanted to finish the novel entirely before I uploaded more. Updates will be more regular now.

I hope you enjoyed this chapter where Claudius and Athena finally admit their feelings for one another!

Chapter 37: Chapter XXXIII - The Black Forest

Chapter Text

Leaves crunched beneath Athena and Claudius’s feet. A silvery fog moved throughout the forest, climbing over mossy rocks and thick tree roots. 

“How long has it been since you’ve gone through the woods?” Athena asked, picking up her rosy dress to leap over a fallen branch.

“I don’t know… Twenty-five years, more or less,” Claudius answered.

“How do you like it?” 

Claudius tripped over a tree root but picked himself back up. He glanced at Athena and shook his head. 

“I’m sorry…” She winced. “I feel more myself when I’m in the forest, especially when I take my shoes off and can feel the ground.” Athena moved her arms around and danced a bit as she walked. “I hoped you might feel the same but… I suppose not.”

Claudius wrapped his arms around his chest. “I much prefer being inside, where there aren’t as many things to trip over—where I can relax and read my books by the fireside.”

“I guess that makes sense,” Athena said. “Dragons mostly stay inside their caves, don’t they? I guess that’s where they feel the safest.”

“This dragon does.” Claudius tapped his chest with his pointer finger. 

Athena turned her head to face him. He traced his gloves over his suit, rubbing his fingers up and down. She gripped her dress tighter and fumbled with her lacey white gloves. “Claudius?” she spoke.

“Yes, dear?” He took hold of her hands and brought them close to his heart. 

“I have a question, something I’ve been wonderin’ about.” She stopped in her tracks, pulled on him to face her, and picked up his other hand. 

Claudius’s eyes grew wide; he rubbed his thumbs over her knuckles.

Athena blinked a couple of times, smiled a thin smile, and looked down. “What’s the real story? About these gloves, I mean?” 

Claudius jerked his head back and blinked, confused. “I’m not so sure I understand your question.”

“You haven’t spoken to Henri in over twenty years, yes? You didn’t even know he was still alive until a year ago?”

Claudius fumbled with her hands. “Yes? I still don’t understand where you’re going with this, Athena.”

She let go of him and turned around, strutting away into the fog. “If you hadn’t seen him in over twenty years, then how did you get him to make these gloves for me?” Athena spun about on her heels and held up the pearly gloves. 

Claudius’s heart dropped into his stomach. His lips fell. “It would be rude of me to share the origin of your gift, Athena.”

“I don’t care,” she spat.

He sighed. “Henri and I… He…” Claudius scratched the back of his head, ruffling his thick black locks. He backed up and sat down on a tree stump. “Athena… I’ve always….”

The girl trotted on over and perched on the root beside him. “It’s alright. I’m not upset, I promise. Just curious. You can tell me.”

“Of course.” Claudius cleared his throat and adjusted his suit. “While Henri and I were still friends, he… noticed how much I longed for… someone to be by my side.”

Athena squinted her icy blue eyes.

“I apologize. I’m so embarrassed,” he said, facepalming. “I’ve always wanted… a wife. Yes, a wife,” he stammered. 

Athena blushed and picked her head up, lengthening her body. 

“No, no, no, no…” He waved his hands. “Not yet. It’s just. Oh, god, I’ve said too much.” Claudius hugged himself and sighed. “Henri made those for my future—” 

“Thank you, Claudius. That’s all that needed to be said.” Athena wrapped her hands around his shoulders. “I understand completely now.” She grinned. 

“Oh, Athena,” he lurched over. “I hope you don’t misunderstand this as me proposing to you. I only wanted to express my feelings.”

“I understand completely, Claudius. I really do.” She laughed. “I still think they are lovely and I’m so proud that you gave them to me.” Athena gripped onto his wrists, then patted them. “Are you ready to start walking again?”

Claudius shook his head and stared at the ground.

Athena leaned in, resting her head on his shoulder. “What’s wrong, Claudie?” she asked, her voice higher than usual.

“Claudie?” he questioned, dropping his jaw. “You’ve never said that before.”

“I know. It’s new.” Athena giggled. “Now, tell me, what’s wrong?”

Claudius winced, his eyes drawing in. Pain shot through his face. “Do you love me, Athena?”

The girl opened her mouth, her eyes falling away and then coming back to him again. “Claudius… of course, I do.” She sighed. “I will admit, it’s new and strange. I’m not sure if it’s… here to stay or, if it will go away in a month or two.” Athena shrugged her shoulders. “I’ve fancied you for so long, Claudius, but that was just fancy. This feeling I have now is something else.”

“What is this feeling?” Claudius gripped her hands tighter. 

“It’s…” She bit her lip. “I think it’s…. I mean, I’ve always loved you deeply as a friend, but now this love is so different from anything I’ve ever felt for anybody, ever.” Athena’s shoulders caved in. 

“I’ve loved you for so long, Athena.” Claudius threw his head back, facing the sky. “I think the first time I knew… was when you went away to Dublin. I didn’t get a single letter from you, but—”

“Oh, let’s not talk about that.” Athena laughed and slapped Claudius’s knee.

“I’m holding this over your head for as long as I can, darling,” he said, smirking, his mustache tilting slightly. “I didn’t get a single letter from you, but… I still grew in my love. And when you came back and told me about the dress you bought and how you felt like you found a new part of yourself, it felt like talking to a new person. And then as you grew and found more of yourself, I fell more and more.” 

Athena’s heart warmed. Her skin turned red and fireworks went off in her stomach.

Claudius spoke, “I know that I am not the best… beau in the world. I can’t go to balls with you, I don’t like doing some of the things you enjoy,” he motioned to the forest path they trekked, “I can’t be the man for you that you deserve.”

“Quit that, Claudius. You know I wouldn’t trade you for the world.”

“You should.” He nodded. 

“Also, I don’t consider you my ‘beau’. Usually, when a girl has a beau it implies she has more than one. I don’t want anyone else but you.” Athena snuggled closer to him, nuzzling under his chin.

Claudius rubbed his chin on the top of her head before running his hand up her arm. He reached her chest and neck, then lifted her chin.
The wind whipped around them; the fog grew denser. Black clouds soared overhead and the sun disappeared. 

Athena’s heartbeat sped up; she looked up once at the dark clouds before returning her gaze to Sir Claudius. Their eyes locked. 

Claudius gripped her chin between his forefinger and thumb while wrapping his other arm around her waist. His skin was at first cold as snow, but he warmed up while holding onto Athena as her hot breath spread over him. Goosebumps rose on both of their faces.

“Athena, I love you and always will,” he said.

“As do I,” she whispered. 

Claudius closed his eyes first, leaning forward. Athena watched his dark form as he inched closer and closer and fear of the unknown poured into her stomach. She pulled back.

Claudius opened his eyes as she drew away from him. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what I’m doing,” he said, faltering.

Athena took another look at him before shaking her head. She closed her eyes and lifted her chin. “Yes, you do,” she said. 

Claudius wrapped a finger around her cheek, drawing circles on her skin. He flew toward her, coming in hard and fast, before backing away. 

Athena opened her eyes again, her brows knitting together. “Claudius… what’s wrong?”

He let go of her and stood straight up, pushing himself off of the tree stump. Claudius lifted his nose into the air. The wind changed, and a new scent blew in his direction.

Athena pulled her skirts around herself. She got up off of the tree root and ran to him. 

He turned around. Athena trembled in the blowing wind. 

He spoke, “There is someone else among us in these woods. A dragon.”

Chapter 38: Chapter XXXIV - Heart of the Flame

Chapter Text

“A dragon?” Athena shouted, gripping onto her skirts. 

“Yes, quiet down.” Claudius waved his hand in her direction, although did not turn around. “I’m listening for it.” 

A blanket of silence laid over the forest. All the animals ceased their noises and the wind stopped blowing. Claudius’s ears pricked up; they turned toward the thicket. “Come on,” he said. The man bolted off, trudging through the woods as Athena had never seen before. He skipped over boulders like they were tiny pebbles, and swung under branches like they were mere strings. Athena grew out-of-breath while she tried to follow behind him.

“Claudius....” She heaved. “Why didn’t—you tell—me that you could run like that?”

“It’s the dragon in me, I suppose.” He kept running, ducking under the thick brush. 

“Yeah, well, I’m half-cat and I still can’t go this far this fast!”

Claudius turned his head back to acknowledge her, while still dashing on and keeping the pace. “I’m also not wearing a corset, love.”

Athena let out a laugh, which soon turned into a gasp for air. She grasped her stomach and leaned over, tumbling like a drunkard. “Wait, Claudius, I’m gonna turn into Milly. I can’t go on like this for much longer.” 

“No need. We’re here.” The man in black stood his ground while his head whirled about and about. Leaves picked up beneath his feet, carried by the wind. Right beside his foot was a large dip in the ground. It looked as though a boulder had been pushed away and all that remained was its imprint. Claudius got down on his knees and picked at the hole in the ground. He smelled of it. 

“I think I’m gonna lay down for a bit,” Athena called out, still breathing like a fish out of water. She sat down on a nearby fallen tree trunk. “You just keep doin’ what you’re doin’, Claudius.”

He paid her no mind and instead felt of the print. But then—

“Athena, look out!” Claudius leaped off from his knees, hurtled toward the love of his life, and encased her in his arms. He knocked her off of the tree trunk before a spew of fire hit her face.

When the two got to their feet, an inferno blazed all about them. The trunk Athena had perched on was caught in flames and smoke.

The girl gripped tight onto Claudius’s suit. She buried her face into his chest while he petted her hair and scanned the area for the culprit. He made grunting noises, deep rumbles emitting from his chest. Athena felt her fingers vibrating whenever he made the calls. 

“Dragon tongue…” she whispered, her silvery eyes tinted with a reflection of the flames. The smoke got to her; she closed her mouth and coughed in her throat.

Beyond the inferno, two deep grunts—although not as deep as Claudius’s—sounded. But what they lacked in sound, they made up for in ferocity. The noise of jaws snapping and teeth clashing made its way over the rising smoke. 

Athena whimpered and closed her eyes. Claudius forged his hands into her hair, squeezing her the hardest he had ever squeezed anyone. “You’re safe,” he crooned.

Another round of grunts came, this time becoming a roar. Claudius took hold of Athena, whisking her away bridal-style. She turned and made herself comfortable in his chest. He marched, treading away from the inferno and back to the castle.

But the dragon followed. 

Tiny spurts of flame knicked Claudius’s heels. He hissed through his teeth and kept on going, not daring to turn back for even a second. 

Athena roused. “Claudius… are you—”

“I’m fine, dear. Everything’s fine. When you see the castle I want you to run as fast as you can to the doors.” He picked up his pace, jogging now.

“But what about—”

“Don’t worry about me.”

Claudius busted through branches and thorns, while still protecting Athena. He wrapped her under his cloak. A great shadow loomed overhead. The dragon nipped at him from behind. Then, Claudius sprinted. He carefully sped through the forest, and right behind him, the dragon he couldn’t even see rampaged through everything—knocking over every single thing in its path. Hundreds-of-years-old trees smashed to the ground in mere seconds. All that could be heard was the cracking sound of their wood and then a big ka-boom.

Athena shrieked. 

“I can’t take it anymore!” the man yelped. He planted Athena on the ground behind him. “Run, Athena, run!” 

She got up off of her hands and knees, transformed into Milly, and made headway toward the castle. 

Claudius ripped around, preparing to launch a ball of flame out of his mouth. It arose in his throat and formed in his mouth when—

The dragon ceased its torment. A white dragon, with slight accents of red, and… blue eyes stood before him. It snorted, astonished, before backing up and bowing. The inferno calmed and died. All that remained was smoke. 

Claudius broke through the smoke; it didn’t have any effect on him. He breathed it in, almost like smelling home. Waving away the mists, the man knelt down and called for the dragon—bellowing and bellowing until a small grunt echoed off of the trees and traveled his way. He moved in its direction. 

A shadow moved under an enormous fallen tree branch. Sticks snapped and crackled under the shadow’s weight. It condensed, falling in on itself, shifting from a great size to a smaller one. 

The man hesitated, but pressed onward, tiptoeing around the large branch. He shifted the weight under his feet. Pushing away dead leaves and smaller branches, Claudius bent over and gaped. 

A ghostly white figure lay on the ground before him, in a fetal position. A woman. She had long platinum blonde hair that cascaded like rivulets over her bare backside. 

“M-ma’am?” Claudius called, stepping away. “Are you alright?”

The woman moaned and then slid over onto her back. He knew at once who she was—the white scaly skin, the pinkish-red markings around her eyebrows and eyelids, and then… those blue orbs. Her face was blank at first, but after a few seconds, her lips tilted upward into a nasty grin. “Never seen a woman before, have you?” she asked.

Claudius faltered. He backed away, tripping over stones. 

“Hey, hey, it’s alright,” she cooed. “You don’t know me… yet, but, you will.” The woman picked herself up. She was thin—skin and bones. Her voice didn’t match her figure though; it was sumptuous and dark in color, like bright red wine: the color of her markings. “But I know you, Sir Claudius.”

“How do you know me, dragon?” Claudius roared. He couldn’t keep his gaze away from her eyes—the exact same as his. They even had a black slit down the middle: the way he was in dragon form as well as when he shifted.

“Oh, ‘dragon’ am I now? Only a moment ago was I ‘ma’am’.” She cackled. “I prefer ‘dragon’ over ‘ma’am’, but I’ll tell you my real name.” She slid down over a tree stump.

Claudius squinted. “Are you half-dragon, half-human, too?” 

“Why, no!” she called. “That would be nightmarish.” She flipped her straight, long hair to the back. “I don’t mean a human name. Those are god-awful.” The woman huffed and looked off into the black of the forest. “In dragon speech, I am called—” She made a deep grumble. “But in human language, I am called: ‘Heart of the Flame’. That is what you may refer to me as.”

“Why that?” he asked, crossing his arms and raising a thick black brow.

Heart of the Flame cackled again. “Isn’t it obvious?” She tapped her pointer finger above her right eyebrow. Yellow and red markings dazzled around her eyes, like a tropical lizard’s colorful hooded brows. And then those markings entwined her crystal orbs that almost glowed in the twilight. 

Claudius shook his head. “So, if you are not half-human, half-dragon, then how did you transform?” he grunted, stomping his feet. 

“Skeptical, skeptical,” she teased. “What do you think my gift is?”

“Gift?”

“Why, yes. Did the patriarch of your clan never tell you? All blue-eyed dragons—the rarest form of dragon—have gifts.” Her voice rang in his ears, like a song. “Mine is shapeshifting. I can transform into any life form I want to. And, if you want, I could even transform you—only for a limited time, of course. My power is not yet strong enough to transform others for more than a few minutes.” She smirked. “But I’m getting stronger.”

Claudius blinked. “So, what is it you want with me? Why did you come here?”

“Oh, don’t change the subject, dear. We’ll get around to that. Now, tell me, what is your gift?” She propped one skinny leg over the other and leaned back onto the stump. 

“I don’t have one.”

“Oh, sure, you do. Isn’t there something that you could do that no other dragons in your clan could?” 

Claudius’s gaze fell. “Humans,” he whispered.

Heart of the Flame’s grin altered; it was no longer sly, but rather, menacing. “Humans? What on earth does that mean?” she asked through gritted fangs.

“Humans. I could talk to humans. I heard and understood every word they said. Even now I can, with or without being one. Everyone in my clan thought I was strange for wanting to be one of them… but humans always made more sense to me than my clan’s way of life ever did.”

Heart of the Flame kicked one of her legs into the air. “I see,” she said, low and slow. “Well, they didn’t tell me that.”

“Who? Tell you what?” Claudius jerked back to her, staring into her eyes.

“They didn’t tell me you had such an affinity for humans.”

“Who?”

“My old clan.”

“Old?”

“I left them. I am a rogue now, just like you.”

Claudius’s eyes grew wide. He breathed in the remaining smoke and sighed. 

“They told me you left your clan because you didn’t want to fulfill its duty—lighting fires and… terrorizing humans. It’s a tale that’s been passed around these parts for years. Don’t you know you’re famous in dragon lore?”

Claudius shook his head. All color left his face.

“Yes, Sir. Or, rather, should I say… infamous.” 

He bit his tongue and gnawed on it. “Figures.”

“That’s why no one ever sought you out. You’re considered a traitor to all dragon kind, preferring humans over your own flesh and blood. But… I sought you out.”

“Why?”

“The same reason you left your clan,” she snapped. “You think you had it bad? Well, listen here.” She stood up, her legs faltering and shaking for a moment before she found her balance. “Why do you think I went after your little púcaí pet?!” she shrieked. “And aren’t púcaí supposed to be spirits? Where did you ever find a live one?”

Flames lit in Claudius’s eyes. “Athena is my companion, dragon. Never call her my pet, ever.” He clamped down on his jaw and widened his stance. “She is a rare form of púcaí, just like we are rare forms of dragons, my friend,” he said with a deep growl echoing out of his chest. “She is alive just as we are, and when she dies, she returns to the spirit realm.”

“Huh. Well, I’m not after her anymore, Sir Claudius. You’ve got nothing to worry about.” Heart of the Flame backed into a tree. “I’m supposed to… kill humans. Rip their flesh apart. Eat them. And best of all,” she laughed, “right in front of their dearly beloved!” The woman opened her arms wide, and in her eyes... something changed

Madness. It was madness. Her pupils dilated until her eyes were fully black. “If I don’t murder humans right in front of their loved ones, and then eat them, then my duty isn’t finished. I turn to stone. The end!”

Claudius lowered his stance, but still kept up his guard. “You thought… Athena was human. And you went after her to stay alive.”

“I didn’t want to, Sir Claudius. Really, I didn’t. But, if you can’t tell,” she pointed to her stomach, “I haven’t eaten a human in months. Just deer and livestock and other animals to keep me alive. But,” she closed her eyes and barred her fangs together, “if I don’t start a new clan as soon as possible, I’ll have to kill again. I’m not dying anytime soon, you hear me?”

Sir Claudius scratched his beard. “You want to start a new clan.”

“What I just said.” She calmed down, although still had a twinge of ferocity in her voice.

“And you want to start it with me.” He fumbled, almost tripping over his own feet. He couldn’t breathe. “I can’t. I’m sorry, Heart of the Flame. I can’t go back to living that way.” He turned around and headed back toward the castle.

“Please, Sir, I can’t live like this anymore! And you can’t either!”

He stopped.

“You know you’re only half-way living!” she shouted. “You can’t be fully human, and you can’t be fully dragon. You know you’re going to die if you don’t fulfill the duty! Start a new clan… with me, and you won’t have to.”

The man winced. He looked down at his gloved hands and thought of roses. Thought of petals of roses falling into them. Athena.

“I am fully human when I am with Athena—the one you tried to kill earlier,” he grumbled. 

“Lies!” she ran toward him, took him by the shoulder, and turned him around to face her. “You won’t have a life unless you listen to me, Sir Claudius. You know your time is running out.” 

She stared straight into his face, and he stared back. 

“I’ll consider it, Heart of the Flame.” He looked in the other direction, toward the castle, and then looked back to her emaciated form. “In the meantime, I can help you regain your strength. Come with me, to Beochaioneadh Castle. You may stay until I make a decision.”

Heart of the Flame smiled—and not one he had seen before. It wasn’t a smirk or a menacing, mad grin, but an exhausted and true smile. Hope and gratefulness shone in her bright blue eyes.

Chapter 39: Chapter XXXV - The Same Shade of Blue

Chapter Text

Wrapping his black cloak around her bare body, Sir Claudius ushered Heart of the Flame onward.

“You’re too kind,” she said, covering up her chest with it, although leaving the slightest notion of cleavage. 

He nodded, then marched in front of her. She followed.

“So, Sir Claudius,” Heart of the Flame cooed, “what do you say, when we get back to the castle in a few minutes, and you turn into a dragon, how about you and I have a little talk in our native tongue. Shall we?” She batted her eyelashes, her orbs flashing back-and-forth between blue and pink.

“No,” he replied, curt, without emotion.

She was taken aback. “Pardon? Why not?”

“I don’t like my native tongue. I much prefer human language.” He didn’t even turn back to acknowledge her.

Heart of the Flame huffed and threw her arms in the air. “I can’t believe it. A dragon who doesn’t like his own native tongue? Surely not.” Swift on her feet, she slithered up toward him until she was right at his shoulder. “Tell me why. I’m genuinely curious.”

“Fine, if you’re so interested.” Claudius turned around, faced her, hands on his hips, and frowned. “Human language gets more across. You can say more. Express abstract concepts never even conceived by dragons. Discuss emotions never even felt by dragons….” He faltered, and a shooting star twinkled in his eye. “It’s so beautiful, almost like music coming out of my mouth every time I speak. But dragons can’t even comprehend music. See what I mean? There’s so much more to human speech. So much beauty and heart.” His face lifted and his eyes gushed with wonder before he caught himself and cleared his throat. “Excuse me.” The man pressed onward, cutting through thick underbrush as he made headway back toward the castle.

Heart of the Flame squinted her eyes, skeptical. “Hmm… it seems you’ve forgotten something, Sir.” She poked his shoulder.

Claudius batted her finger away. “What?”

“The beauty of dragon tongue.”

“Hah! I laugh. How can something so primitive obtain any trace of beauty?” He grunted and his greasy black locks fell over his bright blue eyes, like the black of night cascading the last blue of twilight.

“I’m serious, Sir! Yes, human language can express concepts dragons can’t conceive of. I know that. I’m fluent in human language, for God’s sake! But,” she pulled at his undershirt in an aggressive, hasty way—unlike Athena’s gentle and unassuming touch, “what about certain… primitive, primal feelings that humans have? Humans are animals too, you know.”

Sir Claudius rolled his eyes.

“Haven’t you been reading lately? I bet you haven’t even read Origin of Species yet. What a shame….” She clucked her tongue. “A worldly man, my foot!”

“Is that a new scientific novel?” he asked.

“Relatively new. It’s been almost forty years,” Heart of the Flame replied.

“I haven’t bought a new novel in a long time.” Sir Claudius shook his head. “Please, madam, your point?”

“Ah, yes.” She continued walking, this time in front of him, and swayed her barely-existent hips. “Humans may be highly-evolved, but they have rawness and realness in them. And human language cannot express those feelings. It’s too flowery, too posh.” She stuck her tongue out. “Dragon language is to the point. We say what we mean and mean what we say.”

“Don’t forget you’re speaking with a native,” Claudius said, crossing his arms and frowning. 

“A native who’s forgotten. You’ve forgotten the raw and real beauty of dragon tongue.”

“I don’t consider grunts and growls… beautiful….” 

Heart of the Flame’s eyes warmed up—like somebody lit a candle in her pupil. “You’ve spent too much time with humans, Sir Claudius. You’ve learned to hate dragons.”

“The same could be said for you, Heart of the Flame. You’ve spent too much time with dragons and learned to hate humans.” He brushed past her shoulder and paced on, swatting away skinny branches. 

The woman’s face twisted and contorted, like an ugly little bulldog who couldn’t have her way. Wrinkles lined her skinny and gaunt face. Underneath the facetious facade, that’s all she was. 

“Alright, Sir, I suppose I’ll have to make a deal with you.” She marked on, swinging her arms like a soldier and catching up to him.

“Oh?” He tossed his hair back over his shoulder but didn’t bat an eye.

“If you give me a chance, a true chance, to re-teach you the beauty and significance of dragon tongue, then I’ll allow you to reteach me your English. All the nuances. Everything you find beautiful. And maybe we can come to an agreement, Sir Claudius.” She smirked, a determined and hopeful gleam in her eyes.

Sir Claudius glanced her way a few times, then brought his eyes back to the path Athena and he had made. “On one condition,” he spoke.

“Let’s hear it,” she said, cackling like an old witch.

“Do not touch Athena. She was born a human and is now half-human, half-cat. Not a full púca. Of course, she will become one once she ascends to the spirit realm. But if you so much as lay a claw on her, I will banish you from these grounds, and if you show your face here again, you’ll get what’s coming to you.”

“My, my,” Heart of the Flame sang. “You are serious about her, aren’t you?” 

Claudius clanged his teeth together and rolled up his sleeves.

“Fine, I get it. I won’t touch your little human-cat púca pet.” The woman rolled her eyes. 

Claudius snarled and Heart of the Flame threw her hands up in surrender.

~❦︎~

Athena paced up-and-down the Grand Hall. Her footfalls echoed in the numerous hallways and rooms. She had lit the fireplace the moment she arrived, and it crackled and popped. Blowing hot breath into her palms, the girl shivered. 

Creaks and squeaks came from the castle entrance. Athena lifted her head and gasped. A light filtered in through the front door. She picked up her skirts, galloping toward the main entryway. 

“Claudius! Claudius!” Athena yelled. 

His tall dark figure made a shadow in the doorway. “Athena, are you alright?” Rays of light surrounded him until his face came into focus. He ran to her.

They embraced. He petted her hair and she nuzzled into his chest. “I’m fine. What about you? Are you hurt?” Athena asked.

“No, actually—” 

“Ahem,” came a voice clearing their throat.

Athena fell back out of the embrace. She pulled her hair around to the side and stroked it wildly. “Claudius…?” She trembled and her knees locked. 

“Athena… meet—” Claudius winced and moved out of the way. He pulled a ghostly white hand out of the door and brought it inside, revealing a woman…. A woman wearing his cloak. It was draped around her thin frame. “Heart of the Flame.”

The woman smiled at Sir Claudius, let go of him, then extended an arm to Athena. “Ah, yes, hello, Miss…?”

“Everleigh. Miss Athena Everleigh.” 

They shook hands. Scales from Heart of the Flame’s fingers pricked Athena’s baby-soft skin. The young girl rubbed her forefinger and thumb together, looking back-and-forth between her hands, this woman, and Claudius.

Finally, the Man in Black jutted in, stepping forward. “She’s like us, Athena. Or, well, like me.”

Athena’s face fell. Claudius’s eyes were always the tiniest bit bluer than hers, and this woman’s eyes were the same color as his. Without a twinge of silver. 

“Was she—” Athena stopped herself and faced Heart of the Flame. “Were you cursed, too?” Athena was a few inches shorter than Heart of the Flame. She kept her head down while still sneaking glances every now and then at the lady.

“Me? Why, no, no,” Heart of the Flame replied, waving her hand like a magic wand and cackling like a witch. “I can’t believe you never told her, Claudius.”

Athena’s eyes widened, and blurred with water; she looked like a baby. Her gaze fell on Claudius as she searched for answers in his face.

“Heart of the Flame,” he spoke in a chiding tone, “we’ve talked about this. I didn’t know blue-eyed dragons all had a unique gift.”

“Gift?” Athena’s head turned from one pair of eyes to the other.

“Oh, surely you must’ve had some idea!” Heart of the Flame pouted her lips.

“I. Didn’t.” Claudius stared the woman down, before moving back to Athena. “Darling, this is the dragon who attacked us a few moments ago. But do not fret, she is harmless. Mostly.”

Heart of the Flame humphed.

“Do you… know each other?” Athena questioned, her voice frail and childlike, almost like when she first began to work at the castle.

Claudius sighed while watching her. “Athena, I did not know her. Apparently, and I did not know this, I am rather an infamous figure in dragon lore. Heart of the Flame sought me out because…” The man gestured for her to finish.

“Ah, yes, to begin a new clan. One where neither of us has to fulfill our terrible, terrible duties.”

“She has to kill humans,” Claudius said, wincing, and pushing his hair back. 

Athena’s eyes widened even further than before. She stepped back before running into Claudius’s arms. 

“No, dear, she’s not going to hurt you. Anymore,” Claudius snapped.

“I won’t hurt you,” Heart of the Flame said, “now that I know you’re not human.” Her eyes flashed and Athena whimpered. 

“Yes, Athena is a púca. Going after you would be futile.”

“Only… half-púca, Claudius,” Athena said, gasping. 

“Even so,” the tall pale woman said, “you’re not fully human. I thought you were at first, but I know you’re not now.”

Athena glanced at Heart of the Flame for a few more seconds before snuggling deeper into Claudius’s chest. She stood up on her tip-toes and whispered into his ear, “I don’t trust her.”

Claudius turned his head. Heart of the Flame trailed her fingers up and down his long black cloak. 

The Grandfather Clock sounded. It was almost time for transformation.

“It’s time for you to go back home. You don’t want your parents to be worried.”

She nodded, backing away from him and swiftly flying out the door. She laid one good long look at Heart of the Flame before transforming into a cat and bounding away.

“Boy, she is a sprightly one,” the woman said after Athena was out of earshot. “Alright, I admit, she is more than a pet.”

“Stop calling her that,” Claudius said while walking to the Grand Hall. He took one of the logs from the fire and used it as a torch to light up the way into the dungeons. “You can stay in one of the dungeon cells. There is plenty of space for you to stretch out.”

“Well, you need to stop changing the subject, Sir Claudius,” Heart of the Flame said. “I can tell you and Athena are much more than friends, which I don’t mind.”

Claudius furrowed his brows. “What do you mean: ‘You don’t mind’?” he asked.

“I mean, Claudius, if we’re going to begin a clan together, we’ll have to be mated, of course.” She laughed, throwing her head back as though it made no difference in their lives whatsoever. “I don’t mind if you have another half-human, half-cat lover. After all, it’s not like you can brand her anyway.”

Claudius’s mouth fell open; he stopped in the middle of his tracks.

Heart of the Flame looked up at him. She arched her snow-white brows with bright markings in confusion. “Let me guess. You never learned about how to start a new dragon clan either.”

He shook his head, his mouth open like a fish stranded on a desert-dry dock.

Heart of the Flame sighed and laid a scaly hand on his shoulder. “Oh, Claudius, it seems I’m going to have to teach you so much more about dragon culture than I thought.”

Chapter 40: Chapter XXXVI - The Mating Ritual

Chapter Text

“Drink this. It will help,” spoke Sir Claudius. He handed Heart of the Flame a bubbling concoction.

She sniffed it and wrinkled her nose. “What is this?”

“One of my potions.” He began to put up the ingredients he had used to make it, sealing them away in various cabinets around the potion room. “It’s a remedy specifically for dragons. I came up with it myself.”

Heart of the Flame took a tiny sip. “Thank you, Sir.” Some of the colors began to return to her alabaster skin. It had a pinkish glow to it. 

“Of course. It will help your system get used to food again. Give it a few moments.”

“What are you going to feed me?” she asked. “I’ve sworn off humans.”

Live humans,” Claudius corrected. He swerved over to one of his drawers and showcased a dazzling array of various animal—including human—remains. “I know it is rather gruesome, but I do have preserved human remains here, as ingredients of course. You may use them to your delight.”

“I hope this will help rebuild some of my strength. You know, I’m supposed to frighten the human’s families. But, this will have to suffice for now.” She set down the cup and traversed toward Claudius. “At least, until I can come up with a new duty to complete.”

Sir Claudius’s shoulders fell. He walked away from the cabinet and sat down in one of the rugged old chairs. 

Heart of the Flame’s eyes protruded, turning gold, as though she had found a treasure trove. She transformed into her dragon form, which oddly enough was the perfect size for the room, and began devouring the human remains.

Claudius paid no mind to it. He stared off into space while the sounds of dull flesh being ripped apart bounced off the walls. A few fingernails, toenails, and bones flew past him every now and then. But his face remained gaunt and skeletal. His eye sockets drew in and he sighed, putting one hand under his chin. 

A few minutes passed by and Heart of the Flame slowed her eating down. She licked her claws and sucked at the skin in-between her toes. After proper cleaning, the dragon transformed back into a human. She donned Claudius’s cloak once more, draping it around herself. 

“Ah… that was the best meal I’ve had in so long! I’ll take human remains over nasty deer any day!” she said, licking her lips.

“I’m glad you enjoyed it.” He smiled for a second then dropped his face again.

“Tell me more about your clan, Sir Claudius. We’ve only a few minutes before you transform, so I want to hear it in your own words.” She sat down in the chair beside him. “When we transform, then I’ll tell you all about my clan in my own tongue. Sound good?”

Claudius nodded. “I don’t know if there’s much to say. Our duty was to light forest fires and to terrorize humans. And after a certain number of years, if we don’t terrorize anyone else, we turn to stone.”

The woman looked so eager, as though she were ready to pounce on him at any second.

“My father… Oh, I’ve never told anyone this….” he said. “Not even Athena. My father was… the Patriarch of the clan.”

Heart of the Flame gasped. “No!” she called. “I can’t believe it.” She laughed and threw her hands up in the air. “I bet he was so mad when you said you wanted to be human! Isn’t he the one who cursed you?!”

“Yes. He was… beyond angered by my choice, but he let me do it anyway. I was one of his illegitimate sons anyway. I wasn’t in line to become the next Patriarch. Everyone in the clan hated me, too, so he let me go. Only the people in my clan knows I’m his son. He didn’t want word getting around that one of his offspring betrayed their race.” Claudius’s chin sank deeper into his palm. He sighed. “There is one thing I thank him for, however—besides allowing me to be at least partially human. He was a Master of Potions and taught me how to master the art as well. Of course, he was years beyond me in mastery. When I left, he gave me a variety of potions to have in case I ever needed them.” Claudius stood and went to one of the safes of the room. He unlocked it and pulled out a few viles. He pointed to one that was glowing red. “This one will turn a dragon human for a few days. I had… planned on using it before I turn to stone.”

Heart of the Flame furrowed her brows, creating an “11” in-between her eyes.

“I’ve saved it after all these years. I’ve never been able to replicate it, for my Father was too powerful and many years ahead of me in mastery. Not a day goes by I wish he hadn’t given me another dose. My plan is that when I turn to stone, and my body is almost ready to return to the earth, someone—preferably Athena, if she outlives me—will pour this over my dragon body and I will be able to speak to all of my loved ones, one last time.” He laid it back into the safe and looked into Heart of the Flame’s eyes. “But alas, I may not have to turn to stone.”

The woman smiled. “So, indeed, you have thought about it, Sir Claudius.” 

“I have.” He locked the potion back into the safe. “I’m not sold on it, but, I am considering it. If it means I will have more time with Athena and my other friends—who I hope to see one day—then I may do it.”

“Even if it means mating with me?” She leaned in.

Claudius wrapped his arms around himself. “Please, I don’t want to think of it. He turned away from her.

Tapping her long fingernails onto the countertop, the woman sneered. The candles flickered in the candelabra above her, almost as if they sensed her growing anger. And the room grew hotter with each passing second. “You know, Claudius,” she said, “there are many perks to mating with me.” She slithered about the room, closing in on him. “I’ll allow you to be who you are. I don’t care if you are a man by day and a dragon by night. Not many dragons would mate with you over such a curse. I’ll even let you love who you want to, and if you by chance found another dragon to mate with in addition to me, I’ll allow it. If you by chance find another little human friend and you want to love them alongside Athena, I’ll allow it. Just because we are Patriarch and Matriarch of the clan does not mean that we have to love one another. We only have to mate once, you know. I’m not asking for offspring either! We can instead find other rogues, just like us, and take them in.” She ran her fingers along his shoulder blades. “Take the deal,” she whispered in his ear.

Claudius leaned forward, his eyes opening wide. He then lurched over and the candles in the room began to fall all around him. “It’s time!” he yelled. The man sprinted to the dungeons, and Heart of the Flame followed suit, jogging behind him at a brisk pace. 

The woman cackled to herself. I have him, I have him right under my claws.

~❦︎~

Athena stood at Beochaoineadh Castle’s massive doors. Her hand remained raised in a knocking position, but she dared not move. The morning sun’s glistening rays broke out over the ocean and bathed the land in a golden-orange glow. 

Finally, she sucked in air and gritted her teeth together, and knocked.

Several minutes passed by. No response.

She knocked again. 

From inside the locked doors, she heard footfalls, and a suave voice called out: “Miss Everleigh? Is that you?”

It was the Heart of the Flame.

“Yes, it’s me.” Athena shuddered.

The doors unlocked and a creak broke out of the castle as the doors opened, like some old decrepit man shrieking out his last dying breath.

Athena lifted her head and the morning glow refracted onto Heart of the Flame. She still had that cloak wrapped around her like a trophy. The young girl winced. “It’s a pleasure to see you again, Heart of the Flame.”

“Likewise, Miss Everleigh,” she said. “Won’t you come inside?”

Glancing past the woman’s shoulders, Athena took in the darkness of the castle. “Where is Claudius?” she asked.

“Still sleeping. We had a lengthy chat last night in dragon form, all the way until almost three o’clock. We had much to discuss the new clan we are forming.” Heart of the Flame grinned; pointed fangs dangled out of her thin pale lips.

“Of course,” Athena spoke. 

Heart of the Flame allowed Athena inside and ushered her to the Grand Hall. “Let’s sit and chat for a moment, shall we?” Her voice was like fine wine, but with poison mixed in. 

Athena nodded. 

“Do you understand why Claudius and I are forming a new clan?”

“Not entirely, I’m afraid,” Athena replied.

“Well,” she said, “both of us despise our duties as dragons. You know that. We want to form a new clan entirely made out of rogue dragons like us. We’re not sure what our clan’s duty will be yet, but it will be much less menacing and harrowing as our current ones.” She pulled the cloak closer around her. “However, there are some stipulations….” She looked into the fireplace and picked at her clawlike nails. 

“Okay...” Athena spoke, hesitating. 

“Firstly, when desiring to form a new clan, two dragons—a male and female—must go before the Elders and present their duty.” 

Athena grabbed onto the lacey white gloves that Claudius had given her. She held onto them tightly.

“We do this by building a fire out in the woods at precisely midnight. Recite a few chants to call upon the Elders in the stars. Then, in the most ancient form of dragon tongue, we present our duty and the reason we want to begin a new clan. And, this is the part Claudius and I need your—agreement upon….” Heart of the Flame turned to face Athena. She pulled down her cloak and revealed some cleavage before licking and wetting her lips. 

Athena closed her eyes and winced.

“All clans begin with a mated Patriarch and Matriarch—”

The young girl shook, her legs wobbling. She bit down onto her lip.

“Of course, we both agreed to not have offspring together, but rather recruit rogues into our clan. So there’s that. But, Athena—” Heart of the Flame placed a palm onto Athena’s gloves.

She opened her eyes, which had tears in them.

“We must perform a mating ritual before the Elders, and if they approve of it, then we are allowed to build our own clan.”

Athena sobbed. “Did— Did he… agree to this?” She wiped away her tears.

“Yes, he did.” 

“Without even… consulting me?” she cried.

“He did not want to face your reaction when he asked this of you, so he sent me to do it.” Heart of the Flame patted Athena’s hand, before placing it back onto the armrest. “You must understand, Athena. This will be good for the both of us. There is a high chance that your Claudius will turn to stone any day now if he does not change his duty. He could—”

“You really think so?” Athena whimpered. 

Heart of the Flame leaned back. “Yes, I do. But Miss Everleigh, hear me out. He still loves you, truly. Although we may be mated, that does not mean that I will not allow you to see each other and love one another. You can even ‘marry’, as you call it.” The woman crossed her arms.

Athena wiped away a tear. “Really? I’m not sure I understand. I thought mating—”

“Ah… human marriage is so different from mating,” she said, slightly revolted. “So vastly different. Let me explain it to you.” Heart of the Flame stood up and paced around the hearth. “Dragons live for such a long, long time, unlike petty little humans. Of course, we’re going to want different mates after awhile! You see, Miss Everleigh, in dragon culture, there is such a thing called ‘branding.’ Each dragon’s tail club is different from the other. You may have noticed Claudius’s is diamond-shaped.” 

Athena nodded, taking off her gloves and wiping away her tears with them.

“When dragons prepare to mate, they light their clubs on fire and then brand the other, leaving a black imprint on their skin, almost like a tattoo. And then they mate officially after that. And just like you can have more than one tattoo, but never remove them, so you can have more than one mate but never remove them. And we have mates of all sorts in the dragon world. Males can be with females, females can be with females, males can be with males. It’s so different from your little human concept of marriage.” 

Athena thought she might spit out of disgust if she went on any longer.

“But as I said, Miss Everleigh, if you want to marry Sir Claudius, so be it. I won’t mind. And I’ll only mate with him once. But, just know, he cannot love you fully. Humans don’t experience full love, only partial love.” She crossed her arms. 

Athena began to cry again. Her cheeks turned pink. “So… if Claudius—d-does this,” she sobbed, “he will live?”

“Yes, Miss Everleigh. That is correct.” She tapped her fingernails on the fireplace. 

“Alright. As long as I hear the words come out of his mouth that he agrees to this, so do I.” She buried her face in her palms.

Heart of the Flame’s smug, confident look melted away as Sir Claudius strolled out of the dungeons and into the Grand Hall, yawning. 

“Athena… what are you doing here so early?” he asked. “Although I’m not upset, just curious, love.”

“Claudius!” the girl cried. She picked herself up out of the chair and ran to him, enlocking him into an embrace.

“Darling, what’s the matter?” He petted her hair. “What happ—” Sir Claudius lifted his head. Heart of the Flame held one of her arms in the other hand. His face fell and his eyebrows furrowed together. Snarling, Sir Claudius let go of Athena.

“Wait! Claudius!” Athena yelled. “I agreed to it. I did.” She ran over to him and pulled on his sleeve. “I want you to live! That’s all. I can’t bear the thought of you dying before your time. Please, Claudius. Heart of the Flame said you would do it as long as I agreed to it.” 

Claudius lurched his head up and stared Heart of the Flame down. The woman dug her claws into her snakelike skin.

“Athena, wait outside, please. I need to have a short discussion with Heart of the Flame,” he said, his voice low, deep, and deadly.

Letting go of Claudius’s sleeve, Athena slid outside the doors. 

“You lied,” Claudius grumbled. “You lied to her.”

“I did nothing of the sort.” Heart of the Flame turned around, gazing into the fireplace and soaking up its warmth. “Last night, you said if Athena agreed to it—”

“That I would highly consider it. I didn’t say I would do it.” He broke down. “Now she’ll never let me have a choice. She wants me to live so bad she won’t even think about any other possibilities.”

“I can tell she loves you, Sir. But it’s not enough. Her love will never be enough to fulfill you and you know it.”

“What do you know about me?”

“I know that it’s very likely you’ve had urges to love other people besides Athena. Tell me the truth.”

Claudius squeezed his eyes together and his black locks caved in over his face. 

“I know it’s true. It’s in your nature.”

“But they were before her! I loved them before her!”

“And you’ll love them after her when you see them again. And quite possibly new humans, or new dragons! Human marriage is just a construct, created by men to control women. And no one ever loves each other in marriage! You’ll never be able to love Athena the way you could love me! When you live for so many years, you’ve got to find other beings to fill in those gaps in your heart. And I’m allowing you to do so.” Her eyes caught aflame. “You’re being so selfish! Think of all of the other rogue dragons who we could help! If you don’t do this, you’ll die and leave Athena alone! You’ll leave me to wander about the countryside, preying on humans! Do you know how many people and dragons you will affect!?” Heart of the Flame stepped closer and clamped down on her teeth. “It’s time for a decision, Sir Claudius. You know what’s right.”

Claudius stood up, picking himself up off of his knees. His face was bright scarlet and fiery, raging like a wildfire. “I do know what’s right. And it’s Athena,” he snarled. “I will marry Athena and love only her. She has saved me from death. I would not be here if it weren’t for her.”

Heart of the Flame’s demeanor changed. Her arms fell to the ground and thus the cloak. The scales on her back began to prick up. And smoke came out of her nostrils.

“Athena is my life. We will be married and buried side-by-side, and thus live on in the afterlife together forever.” Sir Claudius looked her straight in the eyes. “I’m sorry, Heart of the Flame, but I will not mate with you, nor anyone else, ever.”

Heart of the Flame’s eyes peeled back, revealing white. “Then I guess I’ll have to take matters into my own hands,” she said, in a gruff husky voice, so unlike the silky one of her human form. More scales protruded on her back and horns sprouted on top of her head. The fireplace swiveled back-and-forth, rocking as she transformed until she became clouded in an inferno of white and yellow and red.

Sir Claudius stepped back, and his face grew pale as he realized what beast he had awoken. He widened his stance and summoned all of the flames in his stomach when—

Heart of the Flame in her full white glory stood before him, and instead of sparring and launching balls of fire at him, she bolted for the entryway. Clanging footsteps shook the entire castle. Stones from the ceiling fell down and clouded Claudius’s vision.

The man’s heart stopped beating. All flames subsided. “Athena….”

Chapter 41: Chapter XXXVII - The Merciful and the Merciless

Chapter Text

The earth stopped spinning and the leaves stopped rustling as Heart of the Flame burst out of the castle doors. Almost as if an eclipse were occurring, darkness fell over the land all at once, and sounds of the harrowing night followed. It was a mix of dark and day. Flames and smoke, and rain and mist. 

Claudius’s legs moved before he had even commanded them to do so. It was like treading through water; he couldn’t run fast enough. He pushed past all of the furniture and everything in his way until reaching the entrance doors—which were now sprung wide open. 

There were no sounds, and yet everything rang, like the Grandfather Clock in the hallway that hadn’t been fixed in years. Flames rose around him, and the land became yellow, but the rain poured down over it and instead turned the land a fuming, sickening green.

And all the while his thoughts were: My Athena, my Athena, my Athena….

If there were one time in his life where he wished he could be a dragon, it was now.

But then, out of the wall of flames surrounding the castle, a lone gray figure leaped. It found its way out of Hell and into the forest, climbing on surrounding trees. Milly.

Heart of the Flame patted down her flames, causing them to collapse along with the rain. She tossed her head about and about, looking all throughout the woods. She snarled and grunted and growled—and with each step, her lizard skin tensed, ready to pounce, to strike. 

Rustling in the trees. 

The dragon slid her claws into the dirt, digging and then retracting, back-and-forth. Her tail curled back-and-forth across the ground. She hunkered down and crept closer to the forest. 

Claudius’s daze faltered. He shook his head until he awoke. Horror spread across his face, like watching the End of the World. The red-yellow sky reflected in his eyes, going down and down. 

He whispered at first, “Athena,” until stumbling, after which, he grew louder. “Athena,” but then finally he yelled and his stomach lurched over and over again: “Athena! Athena! Athena! Run, Athena!” Like someone had kicked his legs in, he collapsed.

Heart of the Flame growled and tore her head around for two seconds. She snorted at Claudius’s weakness.

Panting, Milly climbed higher into one of the trees. 

Her ears pricking the other direction, the dragon regained focus and went after the cat. 

But the forest was dark and deep, like the depths of the ocean. It had ravines, trenches, crevices. Heart of the Flame turned her body in on itself, squeezing all of her muscles together until they contorted into another four-legged—albeit much smaller—creature.

A white cat streaked out of the fog like lightning. She was short-haired, with a neat, curled tail—but despite her neat appearance, aggression and hunger were the main things coursing through her body. Heart of the Flame gripped onto the bark of the nearest tree, using her muscles to pull herself higher and higher until she reached the top of the tree, where all of the surrounding land and coastline became visible. She watched the treetops for any movement in any tree nearby.

The cat’s red, rabid eyes flashed like fire. A bushy gray tail flowed out of a bird’s nest at the top of another tree. 

Heart of the Flame transformed into a squirrel; she hopped onto the next tree with ease, leaping from branch to branch. 

Milly tucked her tail in.

Right before reaching her destination, Heart of the Flame caught onto a strong, sturdy branch. She stood tall, leaning up on two legs and balancing with her bushy squirrel tail. Her black beady eyes bore into Athena’s soul. Suddenly, Heart of the Flame grew a couple of metres taller, lengthening into the thin, pale woman Athena knew. 

“I know you can hear me, little girl,” the woman spat, saliva streaking onto the trees. “I did kind of like you, so let’s just get this over with.” 

Silence. 

“Am I just going to have to reach into that hole and pull you out myself? Hmm?” Heart of the Flame sang.

Milly hissed, howled, leaped out of the hole, and then pounced onto the woman. She clawed at Heart of the Flame’s gaunt face, leaving gashes of blood trailing all over the trees and forest floor. 

And then, floating. Falling. Milly’s tail whipped about in circles as she flew in mid-air, before landing on a pillow of dead, crinkly leaves and snow. Nine lives, she thought to herself.

Heart of the Flame wiped the blood away, slinging it onto the bark. “So that’s how the game is to be played.” She transformed again into the cat, this time her eyes redder than before—gushing with blood. Just as Athena had done, she landed on the ground. 

Milly tore away, sprinting through the forest.

The white cat wasn’t far behind.

They flew over brooks, boulders, fallen trees, thorns, and heaping piles of snow. Milly ran faster than she ever had before, pushing deeper into the thicket. Briars caught her fur, leaving open wounds on the sides of her body. Drums beat in her head and the crows in the sky caw-cawed. 

Heart of the Flame locked in on her target. Ready. Aim. Fire. Faster and faster she went. Eventually, she transformed into a horse: a bright white, snowy mare. Her hooves sunk into the ground. She caught up, getting closer and closer. Heart of the Flame almost had Milly by her horse teeth when—

Milly disappeared. 

The white horse kept going. It was as if Milly had fallen off the face of the earth. And before she could catch herself, Heart of the Flame fell down a hill, tumbling over and over again on herself. Toppling and then flopping at the end of the hill, the mare gritted her teeth. Pain coursed through her body. Her limbs shook as she picked herself back up, one leg at a time.

Milly lied just ahead at the foot of another tree, before climbing up it. Her mouth was wide open; she panted and her fur stood straight up. 

Limping as she walked, Heart of the Flame made headway toward the next tree. She leaned her tall neck up and her ears turned and listened for Milly’s sounds. Her tail whipped back-and-forth. Mustering up all of the strength she had left in her veins, Heart of the Flame transformed into a cat. She climbed up the base of the tree, fell half-way, and then climbed up it again. This time, she made it to the next branch, where she leaped up to a bird's nest and rested in its soft twine. Her breath slowed. 

The tree began to shake as Milly climbed higher; it swayed with her. It was one of the tallest trees they had yet to face. 

But Heart of the Flame was not about to let this opportunity go. She jumped down from the bird’s nest and landed on all fours on the ground. She shapeshifted into a dragon, opened her mighty jaws, and clenched onto the base of the tree, slowly heating it up with direct flames. The tree withstood the flames for a while, but after a few minutes went by, it began to give way. Flames spewed out of her mouth left and right, causing mini-fires in every direction. The tree’s base cracked as she heated it up to soaring temperatures, and the sound echoed all across the forest like cannon fire. 

~❦︎~

Sir Claudius ransacked his potion room. He sifted through cabinet after cabinet, searching. But what would work against her…?

He didn’t want to kill her, he didn’t want to immobilize her…. 

Nothing….

He sunk his fingers into his sweaty black locks. He closed his eyes, wincing and biting down on his tongue. 

But then, out of the corner of his eye, a silvery safe. Drawing nearer to it, Sir Claudius laid one finger onto the lock. A bright red gleam of light tore out. 

It must be done….

~❦︎~

The top of the tree swayed as though a great storm were blowing it back-and-forth. Milly hung on for dear life; she sunk her claws deep into its bark, so deep that she touched one of the rings. 

And below, the dragon continued to send blazes out of her lungs. It scorched all around the base of the tree, even touching its roots. The crack that had formed grew larger until finally, the tree snapped. 

At first, the falling was slow. The forest was silent and everything died. But then, it leaned over to one side and broke branches off of several other trees as it came tumbling down.

Milly let go. She landed on her back this time, which knocked the breath out of her. The tree cascaded down on top of her and the world turned a deathly black. 

Heart of the Flame lit forest fires all around, shrieking in triumph. But just when her heart filled with delight, another roar came from behind her. 

She picked one leg up at a time, the ground shaking beneath her dragon feet. 

Sir Claudius launched a fiery red potion at her. The glass vile broke onto her scaly skin, dripping down and intermixing with her blood. Her scales retracted, smoothed over by the liquid wiping them away. Her face contorted, turning paler as she turned human again. A dragon roar soon became a woman’s scream. 

Dragging his feet along the ground and heaving over, Claudius reached the fallen tree. “Athena!” he called, scrambling around in the debris. He threw away stones and branches and ashes. “Athena, please!” His eyes shot across the tree, searching for some silvery fur in the midst of brown and black ash. A lump welled in his throat, rising and rising. It was just more flame. Flame like it had always been. But then, instead of coming out of his mouth, it came out of his eyes…. Wet tears streamed down his face. 

He had never cried before. Rivers put out the fire burning inside of him.

“Athena… No….” he cried, his knees buckling until he sank to the ground. 

Behind him, a stirring. Heart of the Flame rose on two legs instead of four.

She held her two hands out in front of her and sneered. “What have you done to me, you monster?!” she shrieked.

Claudius bolted around, picking himself up in the process. His face contorted into a wretched position; truly, a monster. He marched straight toward Heart of the Flame, his arms swinging and his feet stomping into the dry, bare dirt. 

She caved in on herself and tried to flee before he grabbed her by the arms, forcing her to stay. His voice hoarse and wild, he spoke, “I gave you mercy. I turned you human for a mere few days so that you would not attack the one person that I love. I could have killed you.” He shook her and Heart of the Flame’s head bobbed up-and-down. “I could have killed you!” Claudius cleared his throat, coughing on her. “But I didn’t,” he said. “Instead I used the potion intended for me in my last hours on you....” His pupils dilated and fire sprouted in his eyes. The black of night and the blazing heat of the sun were both there, contrasted there in his terrible, awful face. “There is nothing in this world left for me now, so don’t think I will mate with you just because Athena is gone. I never want to see you again. Leave, or I will kill you.”

Claudius released his grip on her, one muscle at a time. She fell to the ground, like sinking into the ocean, her legs giving way. The man stared into her eyes, firm. She shivered under his gaze, naked and in the open. Heart of the Flame looked back-and-forth between his thundering eyes and the opening through the thicket behind her. 

Claudius turned around as the woman scurried away like the animal she was. He dragged his feet through the snow before falling at the tree. With everything that was left in him, the man pushed the log over onto its side. But…

Athena wasn’t….

“My God! I didn’t think she would ever leave,” came a shaky, shattered laugh. 

Claudius whipped around, and his face spread wide.

“Hello, darling,” Athena said, perching on a nearby rock. She wobbled to slide off of it and then landed on her feet. 

“Athena. Athena!” he yelped, draining his last bit of energy as he sprinted to the girl. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into the tightest hug he’d ever given.

“Oh, this is so improper!” Athena called, mimicking her Aunt Helena’s accent. 

“Oh… OH!” Claudius’s face flushed as he took in her bare form. He turned away, took off his cloak, and held it out to her. 

Athena draped it around herself, making sure to cover every last inch of her body. 

The man turned about again once she was done. “I don’t understand…” he said.

She giggled, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Don’t you know cats have nine lives, silly?” she said.

Claudius let out a cough, then a laugh. The wrinkles around his eyes tightened and firmed, and his facial features became normal again as he took in her sweet face. “Oh, Athena… I’m just so glad you’re alive.” He wiped away another tear.

“Barely.” She pushed him away. “If there hadn’t been a foxhole right where I landed when the tree fell on top of me, I would not be here right now.”

“So, that’s how you survived?”

She nodded. “You have a bit of explaining to do, too, Claudius.” Her face turned serious.

Claudius breathed out a sigh of relief, then a sigh of tension. “All in due time, Athena. For now, I just want to get you home and well.” He ran his hand over her neck, which was covered in thorns and scrapes.

Athena leaned into his hand and took hold of it. “Thank you, for saving my life.”

“And you mine.”

They smiled, interlocking gazes. The flames of his eyes had calmed and the deep blue rivers returned. Her lighter, silvery eyes—like wisps—assured him that everything would be alright.

Chapter 42: Chapter XXXVIII - In the Forest, There Are No Diamonds

Chapter Text

After Heart of the Flame’s banishment, time passed swiftly for Claudius, but slowly for Athena. When she asked him what had occurred between the two dragons, the man simply leaned back in his chair, brought a book up to his eyes, and waved away her concern with his free hand. “It was nothing, dear.” And even though he did not smoke, Athena couldn’t help but picture a long and thick cigar in-between his fingers each time he dismissed her questions—like any other man in a drawing-room somewhere in London.

His reading glasses would be drawn up to the bridge of his nose, pinching it. And other finely-dressed men would ask him questions about politics and he would know every single answer, but he would never wish to engage for his novel was a far more engrossing matter.

But Sir Claudius never was one for plain and civil discussion, was he? For a matter to be engaging, it had to be a story.

~❦︎~

“Claudius?” 

The man jerked, practically jumping out of his cushioned seat.

Athena stood at the edge of the fireplace in the Grand Hall. One parchment page in her slender hand. 

“What is it, my love?” he said, rubbing his eyes and laying his book down on the table. “You nearly frightened me to death, I’ve been reading for so long.”

“Yes, I know.” She looked away.

He squinted his eyes and turned his head, glancing toward the direction Athena faced. 

“I was hoping—” she locked eyes with him, “that you might be willing to look over a piece I’ve written.”

A few expressions came over his face: first shock, but then a bright beaming smile broke over his features and his teeth sparkled in the firelight. “Of course! What is it? A little love poem?” He leaned over and reached his hand out for the paper.

“Sure, a little love poem,” she said, letting him take it from her.

“Let’s see,” he said, settling down in his chair again. Claudius propped one leg over the other and his eyes darted across the page. He grimaced almost immediately. “It’s not formatted, Athena. It looks more like prose.”

“Well, then maybe it’s prose.”

Claudius gripped the paper; he commenced reading.

 

I think sometimes that green is the loneliest color. The forest beyond my backyard is so alive with acres and acres of green earth and green trees. 

 

He stopped. “I’m not quite sure this description matches what you are implying, Athena.” Claudius scratched his cheek. “You say that this forest is alive, but this description—although lovely—suggests that it is vast and empty.”

“Keep reading.”

He shook his head, nodding in neither agreement nor disagreement. “Author’s choice, I suppose.”

 

And yet, each time I go into this deep wood, loneliness is the only color I know.

 

“Intriguing.”

 

As I tread farther, I notice that the green of the leaves is like the green of a toad’s face. Then I hear them: sinister, spiteful, and sibilant voices ambushing me from each direction, and yet when I turn, I find them only to be the voices of my heart.

Green is both lovely and lonely. I follow a little rivulet farther into the forest; it’s so clear that I can see the smooth beige rocks beaming up at me, with lovely mossy lace hanging off of them. If only my heart weren’t green but beige! If only it were beige with white polka-dots, like the happy fawns that frolicor beige with a silvery lining like the gay songbirds that sing of love.

Instead, my heart is full of ferocity and frogginess! 

 

“Frogginess is not a word!” he thundered.

“Oh, hush,” she cut him off.

 

Green is so selfish, so intense, so vibrantly distasteful. I bet you wouldn’t dare touch a slimy, bumpy frog (or, for that matter, a toad’s warty face)!

Do you see now why green is the loneliest colorlonely as a single leaf falling through midair with no one to catch it because it’s summer and not fall? 

He never wanted wicked green, or happy beige, or autumn leaves, or silver lining, or white polka-dots… he wanted a true, dazzling diamond, to care for, cherish, love, and live alongside him. 

But in the forest, there are no diamonds. 

 

Claudius remained silent for several moments. He sucked in a few puffs of air, preparing to speak, before sinking again, saying nothing. “I think it is well and good, Athena. I’m just not quite so sure about the ending, my dear.”

“And why’s that?” she said, staring into the fireplace and gripping her skirts.

“Well, it just seems as though this whole ‘diamond’ business comes out of nowhere. It wasn’t implied beforehand or alluded to. I’m not even sure it fits within the context of the earth and land imagery. And who is ‘he’? Why didn’t you mention him beforehand? I suppose the ending feels undeveloped, my sweet. I’ll help you revise it.”

No response.

Claudius picked his head up. “Athena?”

She stood still, her skirts still balled up into fists. And her eyes were just empty holes. 

“Athena, what’s wrong?”

The girl shifted her feet away from the fireplace, taking steps backward.

“Athena,” he said, pacing toward her, the paper still in his hand. “Are you alright? What’s the matter? Was I too harsh? I apologize, dear. Please know I did not intend for—”

“I don’t want to revise it.” She pushed him away and brushed her gown off. “I like it the way it is, Sir,” she sneered.

Claudius’s face dropped. “What do you mean? I thought you wanted my…” 

Athena lifted her face from the ground. Her red eyes were filled with flames and tears to douse them. 

“Athena, darling, what’s the matter?” He folded his free hand into hers and kissed away a few of her tears. 

“I thought maybe you would understand…” she sobbed, untwining their fingers and brushing away his lips. “If I wrote it down I thought you’d listen to me!” 

His eyes drew nearer together in confusion.

“I thought perhaps if I wrote it in the language you read in all those books, you’d understand, but you’re just as thoughtless as ever!” the girl cried. “You won’t listen to the words coming out of my mouth or the words written by my hand. Keep the parchment, genius.” She pushed away his hands and stomped toward the entryway.

Claudius, in shock, stood at the fireplace. He couldn’t take his eyes off of her, yet once she disappeared into the faint morning light outside of his castle, there was nothing left for him. His hands wrapped around the parchment. He crumpled it up and tossed it onto the stone floor, before picking it up again and unraveling it. “Come on, Claudius! You’re good at reading things! What does this mean?” he yelled at himself.

“Diamonds? Forest? Green toads? What?!” he exasperated. “It just doesn’t make sense! I thought it was supposed to be a love poem. A love poem for… me….”

 

He never wanted wicked green, or happy beige, or autumn leaves, or silver lining, or white polka-dots…

 

I never liked the forest…” he said. “I never liked the forest! That’s who she’s talking about!” He slapped himself across the face. “Of course, why didn’t I think of this earlier. I’m such a fool.” 

Claudius wrapped the parchment paper up in his waistcoat and bolted outside. Athena was already halfway down the pebbled driveway. He stopped her. “Athena! Athena!” he called. Sprinting up to the girl, whose face was stone, he panted. “Athena, I understand.”

“Oh?”

“Forgive me for not figuring it out earlier.” He spread his arms wide. “am the ‘He’ of your work.”

She snorted. “Congratulations.”

Claudius’s face fell again and his arms drooped to the side. “But, Athena, you know I don’t like the forest. Why write about it?”

The girl sighed. “It’s not just about the forest, Claudius,” she said. “It’s about—” She picked up a pebble and chucked it across the grounds. “Claudius, the forest is a part of who I am. I was born there. It’s where I find my strength. Saying you don’t like the forest is saying you don’t like me.”

He brought a hand up to her cheek. “Well, of course, I like you. Just because—”

“No, you don’t like me!” she snapped. “You like pretty things. Shiny things. If you did like me, you’d tell me everything you know about that wretched woman!” 

A flock of birds lifted off in the nearby trees, soaring toward the coastline. Waves ate away at the cliffs. 

“I’m sorry, Claudius.” She tucked a curly strand of her hair behind her ear. “It’s just that it seemed as though you weren’t listening to me. Like you weren’t telling me the truth about what happened between you two because perhaps, deep down, you wanted to be with… her,” the girl grimaced. 

“Why would you ever think that, Athena?” He shook his head side-to-side. “Heart of the Flame tried to take away the one person that means something to me. You think I want her in my life?”

Athena shook her head no, sniffling.

“Exactly. I wanted to forget about her, which is why I kept dismissing you.” He left out a puff of air, which dissipated into mist. “I shouldn’t have. I should’ve faced your questions like a man. I apologize.”

“It’s okay, Claudius,” she said, cupping his cheekbones. “I forgive you.”

He smiled, leaning into her soft palm. “So, she was the diamond?”

Athena nodded.

“You know, Athena, now that I understand… the context of your little piece of prose, it’s not so horrendous, if I do say so myself.”

The girl rolled her eyes. “Oh, yes, you would do so much better writing about the contents of a woman’s heart.” She eyed the undergarment covering his chest and fumbled with the buttons, toying.

“Nothing of the sort. I’m merely saying I’m a more experienced writer than you are, dear.” Claudius chuckled and then cleared his throat. “Now that this ‘Heart of the Flame’ business has all been settled, shall we finish what we started before she interrupted us?”

Athena squinted, the light shining directly in her eyes and turning Claudius into a shadow. “What do you mean?”

Birds twittered around them and the ocean breeze blew them closer to one another. Harsh light shone down on top of the pair.

“Weren’t we… in the middle of something before I noticed her scent, all those days ago?”

Patches of strawberries ripened all around Athena’s cheeks and little freckles popped up on her chest and neck from the sun's rays. “I’m not so sure I remember, Claudius. Won’t you… remind me?” she spoke, her voice barely above a whisper. The girl giggled, tugging at the buttons on his shirt. 

“Gladly.” Claudius’s dark and husky tone resonated in the air. She felt the vibrations in his chest as he spoke. The scents of pine and wood and old books were all over him, drawing her in. There was something so old about him, so refined, and yet so new and boyish. 

Athena closed her eyes first, drawing her slender neck upwards toward the sun. Claudius almost felt tempted to bite and plant kisses all over it, but her lips were far too enticing. They were like all of the fruit tarts he had had years ago, fresh and sweet and brightly colored. Summer and spring in one bite.

Wrapping his muscular arms around her thin waist, Claudius pulled her to him and lifted her off of her feet. Their lips met. 

Flames surged in Claudius’s stomach, but her tart, juicy lips soothed them. All of his insides were engulfed in a wildfire, while his exterior only sizzled, like water being thrown over dying flames. Steam rose out of his nostrils as their mouths moved together. 

The two eventually broke away, although could not remember how or when. Everything bled together. Athena rested her head on his chest, and he perched his chin on her curls. 

“I’ve never kissed anyone before,” she admitted.

“Neither have I.”

Chapter 43: Chapter XXXIX - Love is a Dance

Chapter Text

It seemed such a strange thing—to be so in love. Not knowing whether it would stay, or if this new way of life would come and go with the spring tulips that bloom and then die. 

Love at the beginning is so beautiful. Like a herd of wild horses that dash across the plains, seemingly endless, their hooves kicking up dust, going on forever, steady and magnificent. But Athena had only read about those horses in books. Seen those images in her mind. Herds of horses may not even dash across the plains in far-away-lands. That may not even be true. 

But, even if there weren’t any horses, there were still tulips. And those tulips would bloom this spring. And they’d be the most lovely thing she’d ever seen. 

There they were. Still covered under the snow, but there. The bulbs they had planted a year or so before. All tucked in for the winter, hibernating.

She gripped her wagon tighter and heaved it across the castle-yard. Its wheels trembled while crossing the pebbled driveway.

Sir Claudius opened the front doors, running to her side. “Athena, what is this?” He pointed to the wagon. A boxlike shape sat in it, covered with a pale tablecloth. 

“A late Christmas present,” Athena said, pushing past him and entering through the doors.

“Do you need help?” he asked.

“No, I can manage,” she said.

Athena trudged in through the doors. The Grand Hall was lit up, welcoming her. The wagon stopped its twisting once off of the gravel.

Sir Claudius followed close behind. “For me? I’m not sure I understand.”

“Technically, it’s for me,” she said, dropping the handle and yanking off the tablecloth and revealing a peculiar instrument of technology. “From Aunt Helena. She had it sent from Dublin.”

The man squinted, almost ready to back away from the thing. “I’ve never trusted new technology, Athena. You’ll have to explain to me what it is.”

“It’s a phonograph,” she said. “It plays and records sounds.”

“Re… cords?”

“Yes. You speak something into it and it will repeat it back.”

“Is that… natural?” Sir Claudius grimaced and backed away from the thing. Its tall spherical head had a dark inside. He was sure something was going to pop out and eat him.

“You look so frightened, for a dragon. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen you frightened before,” Athena said, playfully. “It won’t bite, I promise.”

“Why did you bring it here?” Claudius asked, staring into the bottomless pit.

“To play music, of course!” she replied. 

“Is it a musical instrument?”

“Of sorts. It’s a new invention.” 

Claudius shuddered at the word. Invention. 

She grabbed hold of the handle and began cranking it, before laying a disc down onto the circular table. She moved a needle pin over onto the disc. Crackles and pops hissed out of the enormous horn. Claudius covered his ears and shrank into himself. 

But soon, even through crackles and pops and hisses, a single note emerged. It was low at first, like a dismal hum, but it grew into a sound. 

“What is that?” Claudius asked, lifting his head.

“A pianoforte. Isn’t it lovely?” Athena asked, smiling, entranced by the waves and vibrations flowing through the air. She leaned against the phonograph and curled her fingers under her chin.

“Is there a small pianoforte in there? Like a music box?” 

“No, no, Claudius,” Athena laughed. “The music comes from the disc. The music is ingrained in the disc. Come here.”

Athena took Claudius by the wrist and pulled him over to the phonograph. He winced. “Look.” She pointed to the disc. 

There were small little grooves in the disc, rounding about and about, encircling the entire thing.

Sir Claudius’s eyes fixated on the grooves, studying them. Leaning over and bending his back, he nodded his head. “I believe I understand. The needle pressing into the disc is what captures the sound, and then it comes out of this…” He tapped his finger on top of the horn, but quickly backed away, feeling as though it would zap him. “It’s interesting, I will admit. However, I do not fully trust it.”

“Why?” Athena questioned.

“I just don’t. Something isn’t quite right about it.”

“Oh, Claudius, you’ve been in this castle for far too long. You need to get out into town, or even better, Dublin! We need to visit one day and see all of the incredible sights. We could even go to—why… we could go to London! I haven’t been in years. We must go and see all of the new inventions and buildings. There’s so much you haven’t seen.” She interlocked her fingers into his, beaming up at him.

Claudius’s hands turned cold, like stone. 

It was such a strange thing—to be so in love. Never fully knowing what would happen if you reached your hand out to touch your lover’s: Would they take it and kiss it with their warm lips, or would their hands turn to stone?

The tune continued to play—one note turning into multiple. It soared and rose above their heads, filling the castle with music and song—music and song and vibrations and waves that had never existed there prior.

Athena tried to pull her hand out of Claudius’s, but he only gripped tighter. “I apologize, Athena. I’m not feeling well,” he said.

Athena’s gaze faltered. She drew nearer to him. “Would you like me to turn off the music?”

“No, no. I like the music. We can bring it over to the fireplace. Let us go sit in our chairs.”

Claudius walked over to his seat and fell into it. He placed a finger upon his brow, rubbing his temples. “Much better.”

Athena rolled the wagon on over to the fireplace, never letting her eyes off of Claudius. “Tea?”

“No.”

The girl took her seat and ran her fingers over the elaborate, snake-like lines on the armrest. “If you would rather be alone, Claudius, I’ll see myself out.”

“No, no, stay,” he demanded, shutting his eyes.

“Of course.” She crossed her feet and placed her hands into her lap.

Music surrounded them. The soaring Romantic piece on the piano had ended, and now a lovely little waltz sounded. Athena bobbed her head and tapped her fingers to the beat.

Something arrested her and suddenly the girl rose up out of her chair, pitter-pattering her little feet to the tune of the waltz. Holding her arms up as if dancing with someone, she smiled and swayed with the song.

Claudius watched out of the corner of his eye. Her deep blue dress, the color of the night sky, billowed and bounced. There was a sheen, sheer quality about the gown that he'd never observed in a piece of fabric before—almost as though the dress were made out of clear pristine water. Like the galaxies in the night sky that swirled about, turning as the earth turned. 

Both were in a state of dreams. Athena dreamed that she was dancing with a stranger, someone who was there but she couldn’t see. Someone who she felt touching her hand and pressing his palm into her back. And Claudius dreamed that the sky was dancing in front of him to the tune of a little waltz on a strange machine. 

An entire orchestra contained in a small box. An entire man contained in a small castle. Then there was the night sky in front of him, dancing out of her own accord, entirely free.

“Athena.”

The girl twirled around, lowered her hands, and faced Claudius. “Yes, dear?” She smoothed her dress, walking to him. Her eyes narrowed as she fixed her gaze upon his troubled brow.

“I enjoyed the music. You danced beautifully,” he said, reaching for her hand and patting it.

“I do hope it relieved your ailment,” she replied. 

“It did.” He smiled. 

“I only wish I could have danced with you, instead of a stranger.”

Claudius chuckled, then sighed. “How nice that would have been.”

Chapter 44: Chapter XL - The Cost of Beauty

Chapter Text

The life Isolde had planned was so beautiful. 

At a social dance in Dublin, when she was but 17-years-old—Athena’s age—one of those sweeping Romantic waltzes played. Hugging the wall, hoping to not get caught by some older man wanting to dance, she looked down. Isolde couldn’t even remember the color of dress she wore; she remembered nothing about that evening other than the low blue light that filtered throughout the room and the shiny black shoes that stepped up to her.

He was so unlike anything she’d ever wanted. Which is perhaps why she fell so quickly.

She had wanted a hardy man, someone who could work on the farm. Never before had she even considered someone else. She had never fantasized over a man before and only saw marriage as a way to provide for her family. 

But, this man, delicate and tall and fair, with his flowing locks of brown hair toppling over onto one side of his face—this man, with his suit that was so much more expensive than her hand-sewn gown—this man, extending his unmarred hand out to her…. He changed everything.

Heads turned as the most prominent figure, a wealthy man from a well-to-do family in London, asked a farm girl from the outskirts of Dublin to dance.

Isolde didn’t know why he had chosen her, for no man had ever taken a serious interest in her before. Everyone from her small town considered her to be too beautiful for any farmhand or seafarer. Even though she never considered herself so—she just thought she was like everyone else.

A few lesser men and boys, in their garments made by their mothers or wives, huffed, as they knew they could never compare to Mr. Charles Everleigh in style or charm. Isolde wouldn’t want to dance with anyone else after him.

In only a few months' time, they were wed, with the promise that Isolde could stay on her inherited family farm. She wouldn’t marry him otherwise. He seemed truly interested in learning her Irish Gaelic, and all of the myths and tales that passed around their town. In return, Charles taught Isolde how to speak more proper English as well as societal customs when she visited his family.

She dreamed. She laid in bed at night, looking up at the stars, dreaming. Of children, of money to fix the farm, of love and dancing and language and waltzes. 

But, with Athena, everything changed. 

Keeping Athena’s gift a secret was the hardest thing she ever had to do. She wanted to tell Charles, but couldn’t. 

And then, he spoiled Athena, too. Never wanting her to do chores around the house and putting all of them on Isolde, teaching her things he never taught Isolde, loving her the way he never loved Isolde.

It wasn’t until the woman grew so furious one day that she said she was leaving Charles and taking Athena with her that he changed. Athena worked around the house from then on, much to her father’s disapproval. Eventually, Charles had to get a job in town, too, after his parents’ death. His monthly supply of money ended and, in his father’s will, all of the money went to Helena, Charles’s sister. And he knew why he had not been included—the farm girl he married.

The fair man with tailored suits faded away over the years, revealing a scruffy, unshaven costermonger. The only thing that remained was his accent and upturned nose. The forest and harsh cliffs and sea had roughened him; he had caved underneath the dark, salty waves. 

Isolde wished she had never been born beautiful. For beauty gave her love and beauty took it away.

~❦︎~

Athena danced about the house, doing her chores to the tunes of the phonograph. She waltzed with plenty of strangers, bowed to them, and chatted with them.

Isolde recognized that smile, watched as Athena twirled her finger around her curls. She couldn’t stop Athena from going to Sir Claudius’s every day; she couldn’t stop her from dancing with strangers and singing and humming. 

She wanted to tell her daughter… don’t believe it. Don’t fall into love’s trap. Don’t become enamored with fair men who can’t even rise out of bed to change the hay in the barn at sunrise…. But, Athena was one of them. She was halfway one of them, and so perhaps she could survive amongst them. And Claudius was different from other men—he was a dragon for God’s sake! Perhaps they will stay in love after all.

Perhaps this was the púcaí’s plan all along….

But, of course, only Athena and Claudius could live beautiful lives. Isolde and Charles could never be as happy as they were. She had been kind and careful and generous and determined and beautiful… but it wasn’t enough, and so she would remain unhappy. She would die unhappy, only knowing love for a short while. But perhaps it wasn’t even love, since it lasted such a small amount of time. Maybe in all of her life, she had never felt love, and what she thought was love was just a juvenile fancy. 

The purpose of her life must not have been to have love or happiness, but rather, to provide it for Athena and her other children. That’s why she stayed. 

The children loved their father and were happy because of him—but they were alive because of her. Because of everything she did, from cooking, cleaning, providing food. Only their father brought the unnecessary amenities that come with wealth and his kind of carefree attitude. If she taught them necessary life skills, such as how to pick berries or use a washboard, the children whined and despised her for hours. But if Charles asked if they wanted to learn to read, it might as well have been Christmas Day.

Maybe one day they would all understand why she did the things she did. But for now, Isolde remained unhappy, unloved, and unwanted, though she was needed… needed very much.

Isolde continued to sweep, and Athena continued to dance. The young girl—who wasn’t so young anymore—kicked up dust as she twirled, and Isolde swept after her. Athena giggled and pirouetted, dancing with Claudius in her heart. 

And then—

The sound, it started off slowly, before rising and crescendoing. That sound, that small, almost nonexistent sound of violins and violas… it rose every second.

Isolde let go of the broom; it fell to the floor with a thud, echoing across the house.

Athena let go of Sir Claudius and grabbed onto her skirts. She turned to face Isolde. “Ma, is everythin’ alright?”

Isolde clasped her heart and stood still. Her thin eyebrows knitted together. Her eyes grew blurry and gray. 

“Ma.”

“I’m fine, Athena. Go on dancin’.” She shooed the girl away. 

Athena gulped and backed up, sprinting off behind one of the white walls.

Isolde’s eyes stitched into the floor. The melody, the rising swells, the fine orchestra… it was as if she were there in Dublin all over again. A 17-year-old, beautiful, so unknowing of the fate that had been dealt for her…. 

No, it could not be. It could not be happening to her—

“Isolde?”

She wanted to fall, to crumble onto the floor, and die.

“Yes, Charles?” she said, her voice high and unsure, the way she had said “Yes” all those years ago. It was not the stark, confident tone of the woman she had become used to.

“Would you care to dance?” asked a young man, wearing a black-and-white suit with a tiny rose in the lapel. 

The room’s whiteness fell away as the sun set. There was no hot red glow, as the evening fire hadn’t begun just yet. So the room was blue, not a cold blue, but a warm blue like evenings in spring, when crickets chirped and frogs sang. When the sun was just setting below the mountains and bluish-gray mists hung over the land.

“Would you care to dance?” he reiterated.

Isolde turned around. Her ruddy cheeks turned a darker pink. Her long white gown fell over her body like a Grecian goddess's. Charles’s eyes traced her figure.

“You remember?” she said. 

“I remember,” he said.

Isolde drifted toward the young man. He reached out for her rough, hardworking hands, and she took his soft, moneymaking ones. 

“You are just as beautiful as the first time ever I saw you.” The way he spoke, it was the same.

“Surely not,” Isolde replied. 

As the song broke off into minor and then slowly pulled back into major, he pulled her closer. Isolde outshone him with her sharp, exact twirls and footwork. But his leading skills were unmatched and had always been.

“I can’t remember the last time we danced,” Isolde said.

“I can’t remember the last time we’ve done anything together,” Charles replied.

Isolde huffed and bit the side of her cheek, giving him a look.

“What? I’m being truthful, of course.” He glanced up, his eyes moving about the room. 

They danced, Isolde facing the floor and out the window, while Charles faced the ceiling. 

“You never kept your promise,” Isolde spoke at once, her voice low. She kept her head down.

“What are you speaking of, Isolde dear?” Charles looked at her and was tempted to lift her chin—the way he used to.

“You promised that you— would learn Irish Gaelic. That you would….”

He remained silent for a few moments, before speaking, “I did, didn’t I? I suppose that makes me a poor husband, doesn’t it?” The wrinkles around his face molded together into a slight smile.

“The poorest of husbands,” Isolde said, finally looking into his eyes once more. Those endless eyes. The eyes that had captivated her so many years ago.

It had been so long since she’d yielded to him. For the past several years, she forced him to do what she wanted him to do and he yielded, but… it was almost nice, having him lead the dance and the conversation both. Just this once time. 

“I never wanted to learn it….”

“I know you didn’t. And I never wanted to learn 'correct English’.” 

Charles scoffed. “But you had to. It was the only way for you to fit in when I introduced you to my family. And even so, you still didn’t.”

The room suddenly burned a blazing red as one of the children slipped past them to light the evening fire. 

Isolde snapped, “I suppose our whole lives it’ll just be me who learned to live according to you, and never a compromise as we had intended.”

“Oh, darling, you misunderstand,” he said, agitation rising in his throat. “You don’t know how much I’ve changed for you. You don’t know how much time, status, wealth, friends, and happiness I’ve given up for you!”

The woman pulled away from him at that. The song ended and all was as it had been before, minus the broom laying on the floor.

Athena, and a few other stragglers, crept up to hear the confrontation. She latched her fingernails onto the wall, and her eyes sped back-and-forth between her mother and father.

“I suppose it’s both of our faults,” Isolde said, finally.

Charles winced. “If that’s the sentiment it takes for there to be peace in this household, then yes, I suppose so.”

Isolde turned, picking up the broom behind her. She swept again, the blush in her cheek dying away. All of the blueness of her soul had gone. 

A few of the stragglers left, and then more until all that was remained was Athena. She still gawked, mouth wide open, at her mother, who had her back turned. And then to her father, whose face crinkled and uncrinkled. His jaw and fists clenched and unclenched.

Finally, after the logs in the fire settled and the early blazes died down—and a warm glow of home enveloped the living room—Charles Everleigh whipped around, his tailcoat flapping. He charged toward Isolde, before stopping right behind her. Running his hands through her straight, brunette hair—the color of the trunks of trees—he said, “Will you forgive me, Isolde?”

She stopped sweeping, looking out the window. “That all depends, Charles. Will you learn my language?”

“I’ll try.” He winced.

“Then, I suppose I do forgive you.” She swept again.

“Very well.” He walked on, out of the room. 

Athena backed away, into the kitchen. She watched as her father sped toward the bedroom, but didn’t catch his facial expression. And her mother’s back was turned, but she knew her expression already: cold, sad, in want of something she would never, ever have.

~❦︎~

For the third day in a row, Miss Athena Everleigh rolled up the pebbled driveway to Beochaoineadh Castle with her phonograph in tow. The girl knocked on the door three times, and then three more, and again three more.

“Claudius!” she yelled, hoping he would hear her through the crack in the doorway. 

No reply. 

Perhaps he was still sleeping.

Athena let go of the wagon's handle; it fell to the ground and sifted in-between the pebbles. She picked up her skirts and trotted around the side of the castle. Green, rolling hills leading to cascading cliffs welcomed her. The sun bore down on her shoulders.

The girl swiveled past high stalks of overgrown grain before reaching the boulders leading into the dungeon. She moved a few smaller rocks with her hands before transforming into Milly.

The cat squeezed in through the cracks, her skinny form sliding in through the dust and pebbles. The black world of the dungeon appeared before her, sucking the life out of her eyes. But night vision soon took over.

Stones, scratches on the wall, the dying embers of flame. A pile of clothes likely meant for the day untouched in the middle of the floor.

But where was he?

Milly jumped up, transforming back into Athena. “Claudius! Claudius!” she shouted, bringing her hands to her mouth and cupping her lips, amplifying the sound. It echoed throughout each chamber in the dungeon, rattling the gold coins inside.

Cold winds blew in from the cracks in the walls; chills ran over her skin, turning her blue and white. 

Grunts. Coming from one of the chambers.

Athena jolted, almost flying up into the air. She crept past the fireplace and the pile of clothes. Tiptoeing into the chamber, the girl called for her love once more.

Again, no response. No manly response, that is.

Low grumbles, so low she could hardly hear them, emitted from deeper within the room. 

Her heart already knew what had happened although her mind did not want to admit it.

A cloudy form enshrouded in black smoke lay a few metres away, at the foot of a pile of gold. Its blue eyes filled to the brim with fright, despair, and sorrow. 

Sir Claudius. Now a dragon at dawn. 

~❦︎~❦︎~

End of Part IV - The Cat and the Dragon

Chapter 45: Part V - A Man Reborn

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

In his final moments of human thought, Claudius thought of Athena. Before everything turned black and red, he thought of pink and blue. 

Small glowing orbs clouded his vision, and black butterflies fluttered around in his eyes. The pink and blue faded away to the red of dying embers and the black of stone.

He knew he was succumbing to death. And that it was his fault Athena would grieve. Perhaps she would find love again someday. Someone who loved her just as much or more than him. 

But it was his fault she had to find love again. His fault for not taking one light stroll out of the castle to terrorize some commoners. His fault for not mating with Heart of the Flame just one time.

An image peeked out of the blackness, all fuzzy. It was the long black snout of his father, the Patriarch. It bore into his mind, touching him, nuzzling him, loving him. Was it his father’s long black snout, or Athena’s soft rose petal lips?

He saw his long black snout but felt her lips. Dragon snouts never loved the way human lips loved. And so it must have been Athena, but where was her face? 

And then the long black snout turned around, a mirror image. His father’s red eyes dipped in cold, clear water. Everything melted away, and it was him. Sir Claudius. In dragon form, staring at himself. Black scaly skin, with red embers surrounding his ghostly blue eyes. Those blue eyes, contained something that was not a dragon. Contained the sea waves that crashed, the moon dust that sprinkled down on the earth every night, the forest music comprised of birds and leaves rustling and wind, someone singing in the distance without a face, a library with a universe on each shelf and a planet in each book, lovely men and women wearing draping clothes that hung over their bodies like sea foam, looking like they had just popped out of the ocean. 

There was love in those lips. Those white fangs weren’t made of bone and calcium but of pearls. Those scales weren’t made of embers and ashes but of onyxes and rubies. But no one would ever know unless they came close to his long black snout and took another look. The long black snout. Like his father’s. Those skin-shredding, bone-crushing fangs. Like his father’s.

His father who knew this would happen and told him it would happen and yet Claudius never believed. Knew that life would end this way. He would find love with a woman, trade his scales for precious stones, read books and learn all those things dragons can’t even begin to conceive… and to pay for this knowledge, this life experience, this humanity and love and joy and acceptance he had always wanted… Athena would grieve him. She could never enjoy life with him, and he could never enjoy life with her. 

The first time ever Claudius transformed, a meteor struck the earth. The earth had to be reborn, out of whiteness and fire from the impact. There was a pulling-in and a pushing-out as his body shifted. And then there was a great release as the impact and shock of the meteor took hold: winds knocked over three-hundred-year-old trees and enormous waves crashed onto the rocky shore. An ecstasy and the feeling of watching a star burst open, as he tumbled over his black hairy legs for the very first time.

Those ghostly blue eyes had somewhere to take hold. A soul with someone to take root in. 

And now he was dying. The blue ghosts of his eyes weakened with each blink. He lay at the edge of the universe, where snow fell all over his beautiful books. He wanted to get up and dust the snow off of them, so he could read the precious titles. But whenever he stretched his arm out, there was no pale skin, no thick black arm hair, no fingernails nor fingerprints, no palm with an “M” etched across it… so how could he be sure it was him and not something else reaching its arm out? 

Someone knocking at the door. Death, surely.

Notes:

I know this part opener was pretty different style-wise, compared to the rest of the novel, but I really wanted to try something different for Claudius's dying thoughts. First drafts are for experimenting, right? I feel like it's in character for him anyhow. Let me know what you thought of the change and if you have any suggestions/critiques for this chapter. This will be the final part opener and I really wanted it to stand out.

Chapter 46: Chapter XLI - Scales of Stone

Chapter Text

Athena screamed. 

She curled into a ball on the ground, her hands in front of her face. Everything shriveled up within her. Her stomach did flips over and over again.

She didn't know what to do. She didn't know.

Everything seemed to turn silver and gray, everything turned blue and black and purple.

Claudius's body hung over a pile of coins as if he had fallen over on top of them.

She didn't know what to do. She couldn't do anything. He wouldn't move. He wouldn't.

She just screamed, continued to scream because she knew that that's all she could do.

At once, Athena picked herself up off the stone floor and ran, tripping over her skirts. "Claudius! My Claudius!" she shrieked, tugging at his scales.

His eyes said it all. They were blurry and watery, devoid of life. He wouldn’t terrorize humans anymore, not ever. He wouldn’t leave the dungeon. 

"Claudius," she whimpered into his face, right below his snout.

But there was nothing to be done. Nothing she could do. 

She yelled at him. To get up, to go to the forest, to light some fires. But he wouldn't do it. He just sat with that same look in his blue eyes.

All of his black and red scales tingled and moved about. They shriveled up and died. And then at the end of his tail, a small silvery patch. No bigger than a thimble.

Her eye sockets tore open. The world turned watery; rain showers clouded her vision.

Claudius wrapped his tail around her. He was no longer warm like all of the other times; this time, he truly felt like stone. 

Athena placed a hand on top of his claws. She patted him. “Claudius, I know you do not want to, but you must go and—” She just cried. “You already know what I’m going to say… So there’s no use in me repeatin’ it.” The girl brought her hands together and pulled her knees to her chest, sobbing into the folds of her dress. 

“And—and, even if I did go and tell tales about you, scaring some little children, it would be of no use… because you’ll never go light forest fires either.” She shook uncontrollably. “I do wish you would, but you won’t.”

Claudius sighed, a huge puff of air releasing from his nostrils. He closed his blue eyes, as large as Athena’s face, and laid down his head on the cobblestone floor. 

“I know there must be so many things you want to say to me right now,” Athena spoke. She whimpered. “I’ll find some way. Some way to save you.”

Claudius picked his head up and shook it from side to side. His eyes pleaded with her.

Athena stood, brushing the dust off the back of her dress. “I can’t leave you like this to die, not when our story together has only just begun.” Her eyebrows lifted and the water drained; dawn broke in her eyes. “I’ll find a way to break the curse.”

Chapter 47: Chapter XLII - Fear Keeps You Alive

Chapter Text

The first person Athena thought of who could help, was her mother. 

 

She bounded, in cat form, across the long field leading up to her house. The evening sun drenched the land in hues of blood. 

Before crossing over the final rolling hill, she transformed into a human once more, then wrapped the clothing she had left in the tall strands of grass around her body. Skidding down the hill, out of breath, Athena shrieked: “Ma! Ma!”

Isolde, not two seconds later, tore open the back door, her face twisted in fear. “Athena,” she cried, “what’s the matter?”

Athena sprinted up the back porch steps and embraced her mother, tears streaming down her face. “Oh, Ma, I’ve been so, so awful! I let this happen! I shouldn’t have let it go on for so long!” The girl buried her head in her mother’s apron. 

Children crowded around Isolde, watching as their older sister came apart. 

“Shoo! Off to bed with the lot of ya!”

They did as their mother told them.

“What happened, Athena? Come inside and tell me.”

Suddenly, Athena’s eyes shot up and searched around the pale white house. “Is Pa home?” she asked.

“No, he’s at work. Why?” Isolde led her daughter into the house.

“He can’t know a single word of this—what I’m about to tell you,” Athena said, sniffling.

Isolde lifted one of her sleek brunette brows.

“I should’ve told you both the truth, but I didn’t.” Athena wiped a tear away, her watery blue eyes glistening in the soft evening glow from the sunset and firelight from the hearth. Her cheeks were blistered red, and she choked and sobbed with each word. “M-Ma, I’ve been so awful, so, so awful. I’ve been the worst daughter there possibly could ever have been in the history of daughters,” she cried out loud. “This secret only tore you and Pa more apart—our family more apart, and that’s the last thing I ever wanted. And now it’s just— It’s just—”

Isolde wrapped an arm around her daughter and motioned for her to lie down on the settee. Athena lifted her skirts and plopped down. 

“Why do you think you’ve been awful, Athena? I don’t understand,” her mother said, coolly.

“You’ll understand once I tell you—”

“I already know that you work for Sir Claudius.”

Athena’s head shot up, and her pupils shrank; the blisters healed and suddenly her face turned as white as the walls of the house.

“You’re not the only one keeping secrets around here,” Isolde said, sighing. “I’m guilty of it, too. I’ve been an awful Ma.” She petted her daughter’s soft curly hair. 

Athena stared off into the distance, shivering. Her pupils dilated and undilated, in and out of focus.

“I should’ve told you earlier that I knew, I knew all along.”

“When did you find out?”

“When you left the book Sir Claudius wrote you in the living room, I picked it up and read it. I went and visited him the next morning actually—”

“No!” Athena flung herself over, turning away from her mother. “He would’ve told me! I don’t believe you! He would never keep a secret like that away from me!”

“Athena, my daughter, you must listen to me.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“I told Sir Claudius to keep it a secret, or I wouldn’t let you keep going there. He was only complying with my wishes.”

Athena stood up and began pacing the floor. She gripped her skirts, bit her cheek, and furled and unfurled her brows. “No! No! No!” The girl put her hands over her eyes. “I don’t believe it,” she wailed, her voice becoming weaker as she crumbled to the floor. 

“I’m sorry, Athena. I shouldn’t have done it,” Isolde said, joining her daughter on the floor. “I was only trying to protect you. I tried to—intimidate him enough so that he wouldn’t lay a finger on you. It’s not his fault, Athena. It’s me own.”

“He would never hurt me, Ma. Never.”

Isolde looked down at her tired, aching feet, and then back to her daughter. “I know that now.”

“I just… I just can’t believe that he…” Athena bit her cheek again and tears poured out of her eyes. “He lied. He said he’d always tell me the truth, and…” She sobbed again.

“Oh, Athena, I know, I know.” Isolde threw her arms around her daughter and drew her in close. “Men can be… oh, they can be foul creatures.” 

“You would know better than anyone,” Athena said, giggling softly, embracing her mother.

Isolde smiled, and for the first time in years, something shifted within her; the lifting of her lips and cheeks made tears fall out of her eyes. “I would, wouldn’t I?” she choked on her tears and laughed.

“I know you were just trying to protect me, Ma. Thank you,” Athena said. “I love you, Ma.”

“I love you too, my Athena.”

“Can you forgive me? For keeping secrets?” Isolde asked, wiping tears away.

“Of course, Ma. Only if you forgive me for doing the same.” 

Isolde clasped her hands around her daughter’s heart-shaped face, which wasn’t chubby anymore, but rather defined and womanlike. She brushed away a tear. “Of course.”

The two women embraced for a few more moments, sometimes laughing, sometimes erupting into a fit of sobs, but doing it together.

Until Athena jolted up, looking her mother in the eye.

“Ma!” she shrieked. “What are we doing? We’ve got to go!” 

“Go? Go where?” Isolde’s head spun as Athena shot up, grabbed her things, and headed for the door.

“We must be on our way to Beochaoineadh Castle! We’ve got to go! Now!” Athena’s eyes were intense and fierce.

Isolde looked back in the hallway where her sleeping children lay in their own individual bedrooms.

“Come on, Ma!”

The older woman looked back and forth, but ultimately, she walked forward, out the backdoor, keeping her eyes locked on the bedroom hallway as she did so.

~❦︎~

Dusk fell around the earth. The rocks beneath the women’s feet rumbled as they stepped. Isolde went for the grand front doors, but Athena pulled her around to the side of the castle. 

“Trust me, Ma.”

They trudged through tall stalks of grass, two sleek figures encased in near-night. Athena climbed up the castle’s side until reaching a small hole without a stone. She reached in and tugged at the rock underneath it, but her nerves and trembling took her strength away from her. She couldn’t move it. Isolde came to her side and helped shift rocks out of the way, until, bit by bit, an opening big enough for both of them formed. 

Isolde stepped forward, but Athena caught her hand. “Ma,” she said, “how much do you know about Sir Claudius?”

“What do you mean?”

“Did he tell you, or the púcaí tell you that… he’s a—”

“Dragon? Yes.”

Color returned to her face. “Good, good.” Her shaking subsided, but as she looked forward and saw the heaping mass of black lying on the stone-cold floor within the dungeon, the convulsions returned. “Oh, Ma!” she said, “I can’t. I can’t.” She wept, reaching out for her mother. “I’m afraid to see him this way, Ma.”

“What way?” Isolde asked, wrinkles stretching across her brow.

But then, a rustle. From the corner of the dungeon. The rush and whoosh of wings spreading, tail unfurling, scales crackling. The sound of the stone turning once more into scales and flesh.

Athena’s eyes lifted; she sprinted toward her loved one, her shoes clacking along the stone floor.

“Claudius! My Claudius!” she called, lifting his chin. 

His eyes, once closed, now opened again, and focused in on her. Smoke from his nostrils reached her face and heated her up.

“Claudius,” she whispered, in tears. The girl looked to his tail and noticed the silvery stone had receded slightly, but it was not entirely gone.

What could have possibly happened? the girl wondered, astonished at the sudden revitalization of her love.

A hand landed on Athena’s shoulder; she jolted.

“It’s only me, Athena,” Isolde said.

The girl calmed again.

Sir Claudius blinked at Athena, and then—

The dragon stood up, lifting himself off of all four limbs, making echoes in the dungeons as his claws padded onto the stone ground. His big blue eyes landed on Isolde, then went to Athena, before going back to Isolde again.

“Claudius, Claudius…” Athena shushed him, reaching out to one of his forelimbs. “She’s here to help, Claudius.” Athena’s lips were plump and ripe again, and so were her cheeks. Blood ran through her veins once more.

The dragon re-folded his wings, watching Isolde with every move she made. Suddenly, his eyelids fell downward, and there was a pain—guilt in his eyes. If he were a puppy, he probably would have whined. He knew that the truth had been told; Athena knew.

The girl gave him a reassuring smile. “It’s alright, Claudius. I know. I know that you…” Her stomach turned over onto itself. “I know you were only trying to—” she sighed. “Ma told me about when you met each other. And I—” her brows furrowed. “I forgive you.”

Claudius’s shoulders dropped, and his eyes softened. He placed his large head upon the ground at Athena’s feet.

Athena smiled. “It’s alright, Claudius.” She looked down at his tail, which had somehow—

“No!”

She ran to it, and reached out, touching the silver that was now fusing itself into his scales, making his flesh rot like a horrid disease.

“I don’t understand…” Athena fell to the floor, crying.

“I think I do,” Isolde said.

Athena turned, facing her mother, eyes wide.

Claudius huffed shallow breaths.

“Sir Claudius can only be safe when someone is afraid of him, yes?” Isolde said, looking down at his silvery tail.

Athena’s eyes broke open—the floodgates had been set free.

“Yes! Yes, that’s it! You’re afraid of him and so it must be y—”

“No, Athena. You are.”

~❦︎~

Isolde tapped her foot against the stone floor, making dull thud sounds that echoed throughout the chambers. 

“I wonder what’s taking that tea so long,” she said.

Claudius humphed and turned over onto his side. His tail had turned back silver again.

“Poor Athena.” Isolde rubbed her temples. “I don’t know what I’ll do, Sir Claudius. When she started panicking, I- I just didn’t know what to do.” The woman got up off of the floor and commenced pacing. “I only hope that she doesn’t blame herself for your condition.”

Claudius groaned and a puff of smoke came out of his nostrils. 

“I know, I know. She shouldn’t think like that, but… my Athena is just that way.” Isolde smiled, looking off into the distance. “When it’s someone or something she truly cares about, she’ll fight as hard as she can to protect them.” Dusting off her dress, Isolde laughed, but with a slight pain in her eyes. “You know, on the way here, Sir Claudius, she asked me to begin praying to the púcaí. Pleading with them to somehow heal you. I tried to explain to her it might not end up the way she had intended, for the púcaí work in mysterious ways. We can’t always have what we want.” 

The dragon grumbled, nodding his head, as if to say, “Well, isn’t that the truth!”

Isolde sat down on the floor again, sighing and balling and unballing her fists. “I only wish that— that there were some way to break this curse, enchantment—oh, whatever it is! I know you don’t want to terrorize people, nor light forest fires. But, something other than that… something that might could be arranged by my daughter and I.” Her eyes flitted about the dungeon, before falling to the floor. “I don’t know why I’m becoming so engaged in all of this. Perhaps because it’s my daughter I’m worried about. She cares about you more than anyone else, I’m afraid. I think that’s why she became so upset with herself when she realized she was the one who was afraid of you—afraid of… your current state.” Closing her eyes, she said, “I hate that she blames herself for your issue.”

Claudius froze stiff. He had his head and body turned away from the woman while he winced, and his face and body curled and drew up, like a snake before it sheds its skin.

“Oh, where is that tea?”

Chapter 48: Chapter XLIII - Twenty Years Apart

Chapter Text

The second person Athena thought of who could help, was Henri Clermont.

 

With one of her father’s new horses he had bought, the girl rode the twenty kilometres to Dublin. Moonlight illuminated the path, and although the night was beautiful, it was eerily so. And quiet. There were hardly any animals or bugs out. The young mare’s footsteps beating against the dusty road was the only sound.

They stopped to rest for a few hours, but by daybreak, continued on their journey. Athena arrived at the entrance of Henri’s shop right at opening time.

Swarms of people—men, women, and children—flocked to the entrance doors. Athena pushed and shoved against them, struggling to reach the inside. She nearly tripped and fell down trying to get into the door. 

“Mademoiselle Athena!” shouted a familiar voice.

The girl perked her head up in the direction of the sound.

“Excuse me! Pardon!” he yelled. 

The crowd parted to let the owner of the shop shuffle through; heads turned as he walked by. His average build appeared sleeker with the impeccably tailored suit. And it seemed as though something in him had changed. No longer a timid man was he. An air of confidence exhumed off of him. 

“We have a very important customer here! Please make way!” Henri picked up Athena’s hand and kissed it. “Ah, mademoiselle. It feels as though it has been forever since we have last spoken. As you can see, my business has tripled since your last visit! All thanks to your aunt and cousins, who have helped me in…” he leaned in, holding a hand up to his lips, “‘conversational manners’.”

Athena looked around, and sure enough, Margie and Rubina were assorting gowns and attending customers. A few other men and women flocked about the shop as well, with dark forest greens gowns and uniforms—Henri’s handiwork, of course.

“Henri, I am afraid I have an emergency situation at stake,” Athena admitted, pulling him to the side. 

His face changed. His genuine delight in seeing one of his favorite customers faded. “Emergency?” His brows curled.” A fashion emergency? Did one of your gowns rip? Or did your mother knit you another one of those blue-and-pink monstrosities—”

“Oh, no, no,” Athena said, shaking her head. “An actual emergency, Henri.” She drew closer to him and whispered in his ear: “About one of your old friends.” 

Henri’s brows knitted together at first. But soon his face unfurled and years and years of secrecy and pain and guilt were revealed in his eyes. His face fell and his eyes hit the floor.

All around him, feet shuffled—people picking up gowns and suits and trying them on, and then putting them back on the rack or buying them. So many vibrant colors and patterns to choose from. His life’s work in the microcosm of one button, or a stitch, or the knot of a bow. 

His business had expanded to be larger than he could ever have imagined. It didn’t seem real—or even possible—considering what had happened twenty years before. 

If I go back now, would I end up losing everything I have? he thought.

Henri picked his eyes up. 

Everyone in the store, all the customers, workers, Margie and Rubina, and Athena, watched as he made his decision.

“Mademoiselle Margareta, take care of the shop while I’m gone.” 

“Yes, Monsieur Clermont,” Margie spoke, without hesitation, immediately taking charge.

Henri nodded, then walked toward the door and donned a dark traveling coat. “Lead the way, Mademoiselle Athena.”

~❦︎~

With each step closer to the small town of Athena’s childhood, Henri tensed even more. Passing by the small marine community, he pulled his cloak over his head. 

“We’re almost there, Henri,” Athena said, kicking the mare to go a little bit faster.

Henri ushered his horse along, too, catching up with Athena. “If I may ask, mademoiselle, how did you find out that I was… Sir Claudius’s previous apprentice?”

“I mentioned you after my lovely trip to Dublin last summer, and then he told me that you were his apprentice.”

“Ah, ah.” Henri nodded his head. “You have not told me yet what has occurred with Sir Claudius?”

Athena looked ahead, peering over the grassy hill. The silvery tip-tops of Beochaoineadh Castle appeared above the curve of the land. “He’s sick, Henri. Very sick.”

Henri’s face turned white. “I- I have not seen him in so many years. I am sure he has aged.” He sighed, his head falling and locks of blonde hair cascading over his eyes. “I am so glad you brought me here, Athena. I… never got to thank him for all that he did for me.” A slight grin grew on his lips, but it dissipated away just as soon as it came.

“Here we are.”

Shooting his head up, the man took in the castle. He gasped. “It is the same….” His head turned toward the gardens, blooming with brightly-colored roses and tulips. “Except those.”

“My feminine touch,” Athena said, curling her hair on her finger.

Henri laughed before his smile faltered. 

“Come on.” Athena leaped off of her horse and sprinted toward the side of the castle.

Henri pointed at the entrance but she shook her head, instead beckoning him to bring his horse in the other direction. He hopped off then walked, rather wobbly, through the tall grass. He tiptoed through the mud, trying not to cover the entire shoe in the muck.

Pushing through a hole in the side of the castle, Athena disappeared, sucked in by the inner blackness of the dungeons. 

The man followed suit.

Everything was black and dark at first; his head throbbed while his vision re-adjusted.

“Athena, where have you been?!” a woman’s voice scolded. “I went home and you weren’t there, then came back this morning, having to leave the childr—”

Henri focused on where the voice hailed from: a woman, with long brunette hair… hair that cascaded over her shoulders like someone he once knew….

Isolde took a step forward. “Henri…?” She reached out a hand. “But you’re… dead….”

Henri’s eyes lit up. “Mademoiselle Byrne! It’s you!” 

He took her hand, and she squeezed his palm to make sure he was real.

Athena looked back and forth between Henri and her mother. “Ma… how do you know him?” she asked shakily, unsteady on her feet.

A rumble sounded throughout the dungeon; scales scraped against the stone floor. 

Henri turned away from Athena and Isolde, spinning to face the noises. His smile dissipated and fell away as a black creature tore out of the darkness. 

Misty blue eyes broke through the dust coming up off of the floor. They landed on the three of them and then focused on the man, dilating and un-dilating.

Clutching his chest, Henri fell to the floor. He kicked his legs up in the air and scooted backward. 

Isolde and Athena crouched down at the man’s side, shushing him. 

“Hey, hey, it’s alright,” the girl said, her eyes wide and her skin pale. “Everything’s fine.” She shuddered as Claudius rose higher and higher, almost to the tip-top of the dungeon ceiling. There was a wildness in his eyes she had never seen there before. 

The monster’s claws scratched the stone floor as he took a few steps forward. Sticking his snout out, he took a few whiffs of the man, then puffed the air out.

Henri bent backward, but Athena and Isolde gripped onto his arms and urged him to stay upright. Sweat beads broke across his forehead and trickled down his face. His breathing fell and rose in shallow breaths. 

Claudius dug his claws into the ground, shifting the stone blocks. The truth washed over his face as he realized who the man was; even in dragon form, his eyes widened and fear and realization swept over his features. The dragon backed up, practically running away from the man. 

Henri dared to look into the eye of the beast. But when he did, the man noticed a softness in the big blue orbs. The dragon’s head lowered, and the shock fell away as guilt took over.

“Claudius…” he said. “You-you're….” Henri cleared his throat. “Athena, you didn’t tell me he was that sick.”

Athena perked a tiny bit, before turning to her mother. “And Ma, you didn’t tell me you knew Henri.”

Isolde let go of her firm grip on Henri’s arm. “Well, child, I… I didn’t know he was still alive. When he disappeared twenty years ago, I thought, surely, he was too weak to survive.” Her gaze drifted toward the man. “I still can hardly believe my eyes.” She smiled and cleared her throat, before looking at Sir Claudius. The woman cringed as she bit down on her tongue.

“I ‘spose we’ll have to explain things,” Athena said, calming down. She, too, glanced in Claudius’s direction. His form slumped over, and his head hung low. Her heart shattered into pieces as Sir Claudius’s knees buckled. He once again fell upon the ground, too weak to stand. 

~❦︎~

The fire was cold.

Isolde stood again to throw a log into the fireplace. The log settled, tucking underneath the others, and a false heat arose for only a second. But just as soon as it had rekindled, it died, and the dungeon was colder than before. Isolde resumed her position on the stone floor, in-between Henri and Athena. 

“Would you like to hear a story, Athena?”

“What kind?” the girl said, lifting her head out of her palms. Soot and dust had caked on her face, but little pale lines streaked down her cheeks where tears had been.

“I suppose the true kind,” Isolde replied. She glanced over at Henri, who had fallen asleep, his head in-between his knees. His dark traveling hat shadowed his eyes.

“Do you believe all the stories about Sir Claudius wore him out?” Isolde asked.

“Those weren’t stories, Ma.”

“Oh, everything is a story, Athena. Don’t you know that?” Isolde smiled, the dull flames reflecting in her eyes.

The girl humphed, sliding closer to her mother. “So is this going to be a ‘story’, or a history?” 

Isolde put an arm around her daughter. “Let it be both,” she cooed. “Now, where to begin?” Her eyes danced around the dungeon, tracing the enormous form of Sir Claudius, then to the fireplace, and back again to her daughter. She smiled. “Once there was a young girl.”

“Is this about me? I know it’s about me, Ma.”

“No, no, it’s not about you, Athena.” Isolde petted the unruly curls on top of her daughter’s head. “It was… someone who came before you, years before. She didn’t have much growing up, and in fact, she had hardly anything at all. This young girl did all the chores about her farm, both inside and outside. Even with twelve brothers and sisters, as the eldest, she was expected to do everything.”

“This is soundin’ an awful lot like—”

“Do you have twelve brothers and sisters? I didn’t think so,” Isolde huffed, clearing her throat. “Now. This young girl’s Pa was… a drunkard. It was the whiskey that got to ‘im. And the Ma…. Well, the Ma was sickly.” She brushed the straight brunette strands out of her eyes and behind her ears, looking off into the distance.

“But even so, the young girl remained kind and helpful. She cared for her Ma when she was ill, her Pa when he was drunk, her brothers and sisters when they needed anything, even for the animals in the forest. She devoted… all of her time to those around her in need. Not truly, understanding why other than a feeling within her heart that if she didn’t care for them, no one would. And she was right.

“One morning, just before dawn, the girl trekked through the forest, just as she had every day since childhood. But, this time, no birds, or any other forest animals came to greet her, and the forest grew very quiet. Was a predator nearby? She didn’t know.” 

A log fell, cascading on top of the others, sending blazing ashes into the dungeon. Athena and Isolde turned their heads for a moment at the snapping sound, before slowly facing each other once again.

“It wasn’t a bear, or wolf, but a man.”

Athena’s eyebrows lifted, cutting a thin oblique line into her skin.

“He was gravely injured. Deep wounds were all across his body. And his skin had already turned pale. His breathing was shallow. But there was something about him—even with the wounds that marred his appearance, I knew I had never seen a man like him before. The fabric, although shredded in half, was unlike any fabric I’d ever seen before. And he wasn’t big like the men I’d grown up seeing; he looked as though he weighed less than me!”

“Ma…” Athena’s eyes widened and her mouth hung open. “It’s you! And—and—the man… was it—Pa?” she shrieked, backing away for a moment.

Henri stirred in his sleep. 

Isolde nodded toward the thin, pale man with exquisite traveling attire.

Athena turned back around, looking back and forth between her mother and Henri. Her brows furrowed and creases ran along her forehead. “You… nursed him back to health.”

“That I did.” Isolde opened her arms up, invited her daughter back in. Athena scooched over, her eyes still in a daze and her body still in shock. “I dragged him back to the barn and laid him in a haystack. For two months, I tended to his wounds and cooked for him.”

“Did no one notice?” Athena asked.

Isolde laughed, squeezing her daughter tightly. “Keeping secrets—hiding things—seems to be common in this family.”

The girl nuzzled close into her mother’s arms, and grinned, shutting her eyes.

“Anyway, I got to know him better. We spoke several times when he came to. I wasn’t sure if he would make it, even when he was fully coherent since one of the wounds was badly infected. He told me his story—about Sir Claudius and Beochaoineadh Castle and hours and hours of talk about dresses and gowns!”

They both laughed before Isolde quieted down again.

“And then one morning, he wasn’t under the blanket in the hay. I thought perhaps Pa had found out about him, but he hadn’t. A trail of blood led into the forest. I followed it for as long as I could until I couldn’t go any further. I thought… I thought perhaps a wild animal had caught him, or that he had been attacked again by those drunkards in town. So, I wrote Sir Claudius a letter, telling him all that had happened. He wrote back many times, and I answered but a few. It seemed each day for weeks I was receiving them, asking if I had seen Henri, asking if the wounds were healed enough for him to survive on his own…. Eventually, I suppose I had to tell him the truth. I did not think Henri would survive. Sir Claudius never wrote another letter.”

Isolde took a stick and poked at the flames. “I thought of visiting him at the castle, just to… Oh, I’m not sure. Just to satisfy me own curiosity. Why hadn’t Sir Claudius written me back? Had Henri returned to the castle? But… around that time, the púcaí—” She let out a sigh, petting her daughter’s hair. Tears welled up in her eyes and the sparks in the fireplace flew about. “They granted me a gift.” She smiled, laughing and wiping away the tears on her sleeve.

“I can’t believe you’re cryin’, Ma,” Athena said. “Stop it, won’t you?” she teased.

“Oh, I can’t, Athena. Once I start cryin’, I can’t stop. Oh, that was so long ago, I hardly remember it now. It is hard to believe that you are… the age I was when I was granted the gift. It doesn’t seem like it should be that long ago, and yet, it feels like forever ago.” 

The crying and trembling of Isolde awoke Henri. He moaned before tossing his head about; his hat flew off. The dull thud echoed in the chambers. Henri’s eyes flitted, blinking over and over as he aroused. “Pardon me, I believe I dozed off,” he said, reaching for his hat.

“More than dozed off,” Athena said.

“I do apologize.” He yawned. 

Isolde extended her strong arm, reaching out for Henri’s hand. “I told Athena the story.” She wiped away a tear with her free hand.

“You did. Yes, yes, as you should. Of course,” he said matter-of-factly, before coming to and opening his eyes fully. “Ehh… You did?”

“Yes,” Athena said, giggling, the pink blossoms of her cheeks shining through the gray soot and ash. “I think I am beginnin’ to see the full picture now. I had no idea we were all as connected as we are.” 

Isolde’s head dipped, but she soon turned to face her daughter. “Athena,” she spoke.

The girl turned away from Henri to face her mother.

“There is still one piece of the story I’m missing.” She squeezed her daughter’s hand. “I know that you and Sir Claudius are dear friends, but—”

A low groan sounded throughout the dungeon. Claudius turned over, although still in a state of rest.

“What do you mean, Ma?” Athena asked, pulling her hands away from the two of them and bringing them into her lap. She fiddled with the fabric on her dress.

“I do not believe I have the full story of you and Sir Claudius. I do not even fully understand—”

The girl stood, rocking back and forth on her heels. “Ma, I—” she gasped.

Henri’s blue eyes were soft and understanding, but her Ma’s sliced into her like eagle talons. 

And then Sir Claudius in the distance; she knew he had silvery-blue eyes under those black lids; those eyes that were waiting on her, depending on her. They would never open again unless she found some way to break the curse.

“I’m sorry, I can’t,” she whispered under her breath. 

Isolde reached out to her daughter. “Athena. Athena!”

The girl transformed into Milly, scattered across the stone floor, and climbed out through the hole in the dungeon.

 

Chapter 49: Chapter XLIV - A Desperate Deal

Chapter Text

The third, and final, “person” Athena thought of who could help, was Heart of the Flame.

 

She followed the trail of missing livestock. Farm to farm, cottage to cottage. Blood led the way.

Eventually, Athena met one farmer, in a town not too far away from her own seaside village, that said he had seen a monstrous creature dragging his prized bull away from the farm. But by the time he had grabbed his gun from the closet, the monster was gone, and all that remained was the trail of blood leading into the forest.

Athena trekked along the trail; her shoes gathered bloody stains from the forest floor. They led to the entrance of a wide cave. 

If only I’d brought me knife, Athena thought to herself. At the very least, I can transform into a cat, and then maybe I can defend myself a bit.

The girl flipped into the air, tucking her arms and legs beneath herself. Landing on all fours, Milly entered the cave. A tiny bit of light shone through above, giving her just enough vision to make out the rest of the cave. 

She sniffed, pressing her wet nose dusting the leaf-ridden floor. The scent of blood—a ripe, fishy, fleshy smell—urged her onward. Finally, one single bone. It protruded out of the ground. Milly stopped, lurching back. 

Not too far ahead of the bone, was a carcass. A full-grown bull, with his eyes gouged out. All that remained was his ribcage and a few flaps of skin over the tougher parts of his body. His skull had been removed from the rest of his body and tossed to the side. 

Milly hissed, rearing back at the sight. Her fur pricked up on her back. She sniffed out for the culprit, but couldn’t find the scent.

But soon, that rich, sumptuous, taunting voice: “You are either extremely brave for coming here—or extremely stupid.”

Whipping her tail back-and-forth, Milly turned in the direction of the sound. Her clothes were at the entrance of the cave, so she sprinted to them, transformed into Athena, and sprinted back. Her shoulders heaving, the girl spoke, “I am neither brave nor stupid. I’m only here to ask for a favor—or, a deal rather.”

Athena could not see as well when she was human, but she made out the silky, milk-white form of Heart of the Flame nonetheless. She hung from the top of the cave, in human form, holding on to one of the stalactites tightly. “A trade, you say?” Her voice suddenly had more color to it.

“Yes,” Athena heaved. “You were right all along.” She sighed. “I know that Claudius banished you but… he’s not well enough to enforce anything at the moment, so… I want you to come to the castle.” The girl winced, stepping back, as she waited quietly for a response.

Heart of the Flame remained silent for a few moments, before she uncurled herself from around the stalactite, and jumped down. She prowled around Athena, her bare form practically touching Athena’s clothed one. Athena stood still, her fists clenched around her dress, while Heart of the Flame circled her like a predator circling its prey.

“You have put yourself in an extremely vulnerable position, Miss Athena,” Heart of the Flame said, cackling, a small flame issuing out of her mouth.

“Yes, I know,” Athena said, “but my love for Sir Claudius outweighs my fear of you.”

Heart of the Flame lifted a brow, then snorted. “You humans don’t know the meaning of love. All you believe in are fancy dreams and petty such-like. Only dragons can experience true love.”

“I know you think that, Heart of the Flame, but still I am here, trying to protect my one true love.”

Rolling her eyes, Heart of the Flame replied: “See, this is what I mean: There is no such thing as ‘one true love,' dear. Even for humans with such a tiny lifespan, there is no such bond strong enough to maintain for two whole lifetimes. Someone always gives in to temptation. And Sir Claudius is a dragon! It is only natural that he defies you, that he searches for other mates, that he lies to you—”

Athena sniffled, her head bowing. 

“He has already begun searching for another mate, hasn’t he? Or, perhaps he’s lied to you?” Heart of the Flame moved in closer, hunting for the answer she wanted.

“Well,” Athena said, lifting her wet eyes, “I did learn that he… had been keeping secrets from me. I thought that we told each other everything, but it was not so.”

“See, this is what I mean. It is best to move on, Miss Athena. Love one of your kind instead, who might remain constant for a lifetime—instead of a dragon, who most certainly will not. Men are such fickle things. At least dragons are comfortable with multiple mates—want to have multiple mates. Men will just lie to you and pretend that they don’t have mistresses.” 

Athena stopped her sniffling, a glow radiating in her blue eyes. “Well, my love for him is greater than… all of that. I don’t care that he kept secrets from me. I don’t—care that he is on the search for another mate.” She drew back, biting her lip. The words she had just spoken tasted like bile in her mouth. “All I care about… is that he heals.”

Heart of the Flame’s smile grew, sinking into her face, curling into a sneaky grin. “So… he has already begun his final transformation?”

The girl’s head dipped, then she nodded. 

Heart of the Flame’s eye twitched. Her smile fell. A pale hand reached out in the darkness, but she drew it back, shaking her head and stopping herself. “I warned you this would happen, Miss Athena,” she spoke, her voice harsh and cruel.

“Yes, I know. But… he wanted so badly to live out his days as at least half-a-man… and he wanted to live them out with me.”

Heart of the Flame chewed on the inside of her lip, then squinted her eyes. “So what of this deal you are offering?”

The cave seemed to whirl about Athena, knocking her down. But she picked herself back up. “I’ve already tried to lessen the curse’s blow. I brought in my mother—who had actually already known he was a dragon through her connections with the púcaí—”

Heart of the Flame twisted her head to the side but did not question this strange circumstance further. 

“But she was not afraid of him. So I brought in another one of Claudius’s old friends who did not know he was a dragon and… his fear lasted momentarily, so that healed him before he fell again.” Athena wrung her hands together and spoke the dreaded words: “He won’t budge, not even to go and light forest fires. Now there is no other choice. I want you… to mate with Sir Claudius.”

Heart of the Flame’s skin turned even paler than normal before she grounded herself. “But,” she almost laughed, sticking a finger out, “let us recall the last time I wanted to mate with him. How he almost killed me! Sir Claudius wants nothing to do with me.”

“I don’t care!” Athena shouted suddenly, her bloodshot eyes stained with tears. “If you have to force yourself upon him—which will be easy to do in his weakened state—do so! I don’t care as long as the deed is done.” 

Echoes from the shout bounced around the walls of the cave. Rocks rattled, a few dropping from up above.

“Well, you are desperate, aren’t you?” Heart of the Flame cackled, but there was a softness in her eyes that had not been there before. She couldn’t help but feel her heart reaching out for the young, stupid, yet brave girl in front of her.

“I never wanted it to come to this, but he must remain alive. I can’t live without him, Heart of the Flame,” Athena said. “If you—mate with him, you can have it all. The castle, my wardrobe, Claudius, all of it. I’ll never see him again if you don’t want me to. I’ll do anything as long as you mate with him. Just so that he’s alive and well and doing what he loves.” She shut her eyes, and a single tear fell to the ground, crunching on top of the leaves.

“And just what does he love to do?”

Athena’s face brightened as a stream of light came out from the top of the cave. “More than anything, he loves to read. As long as he sits in his little chair in front of the fireplace,” she sniffled, wiping a tear, “he will be content. As long as he has a quill and parchment, he will be content. Make sure he has those things,” Athena instructed, boring into Heart of the Flame’s eyes.

The older, paler woman sighed. “Now, Miss Athena, you know I would not care at all if you wanted to have a little… courtship with him in his human form.” She elongated her neck, sticking up tall.

“You wouldn’t?” Athena gasped.

“Not at all. After I mate with him, he’s all yours.” Heart of the Flame tossed a hand in the air.

“Are you sure you won’t want anything else?” Athena inquired, gaping.

“Not at all. As long as I have my new clan, and I am free from this dreaded curse, all will be well with me.”

“So, do we have a deal?”

The dragon nodded, her silvery-blue eyes lighting up the caverns.

Chapter 50: Chapter XLV - To Blame Oneself

Chapter Text

“Athena. Athena!”

Isolde raced to the hole in the dungeon’s walls, chasing after her daughter, but before she knew it, the sleek gray cat had slipped through the cracks. The woman reached her hand out, but only felt the clean air outside of the castle. Not two seconds later, she found the larger opening in the wall, but when she poked her head out, there were only the fields billowing in the light sea breeze.

Shifting her weight, Isolde slowly spun around. Her eyes drifted across the dusty, cobblestone floor until reaching Henri.

The man gulped, sliding back. His soft, round eyes pleaded for help.

But Isolde averted her gaze from him, and instead focused on the black figure at the vast ends of the dungeons. His lungs pressed against the floor, and his whole body rose as he took a large breath. The monster’s eyes remained closed, in a state of slumber.

Dark misty blues and hellish reds cascaded over the dungeon, and all the rage of the forests and toppling trees and wild beasts entered. Isolde’s eyes narrowed, focusing on the black demon in the farthest corners of the dungeon. Her nose transformed into a beak, and she darted forward, spinning fast through the air. 

Henri backed away, running toward the opening in the cave walls—far away from the raging mama bird.

“You beast!” she shouted, ramming her fists into the stony scales of Sir Claudius.

He lurched, his eyes opening. The dragon attempted to lift his body, but he was far too heavy, and his tail—now fully stone—dragged the floor. His hips had also begun to lose their mobility.

“You monster! How could you? What have you done to my daughter!?” Isolde spat at him in Irish Gaelic, her face twisting into a snarl.

Sir Claudius shook his head, lifting it only slightly above the ground. He looked to Henri for guidance, but the small, blond man continued to panic.

“I thought I could trust you! But you have corrupted her! She won’t say a word to me. You have done something to her… and I will find it out! I don’t care anymore if you perish. Athena needs to find a better companion than you anyway!” 

The woman banged her fists into the dragon’s stomach, and Claudius grunted with each blow. She was a lot stronger and stouter than she appeared to be. In a fit of rage, Isolde sputtered out insult after insult. Sir Claudius only stiffened up, protecting his undersides from her fists. And with each pounding, another set of scales seemed to turn from black to silver.

Henri squinted his eyes. Claudius' hips and back legs ceased their slight movement, molding into the floor.

“Isolde…” he whispered. 

She kicked him, then kneed him in the gut. 

Sir Claudius grunted and groaned, then… a sound came out of him like a whimper. He threw his massive claws over his snout, covering his eyes. His head slammed on the ground.

“Isolde,” Henri yelped louder this time. It carried across the dungeon. 

Still, she continued to fight the beast who weighed tons more than her.

“Isolde, stop! Please!” Henri’s whole body shook. He had never produced such a loud sound in all his life. 

The woman whipped around. “Why?” she retorted, her tall, slender form arching over. 

“You’re killing him, Isolde!” Henri shrieked, his voice cracking. His legs moved, kicking into the ground as he ran over. “See,” he pointed, “his scales are turning silver.”

Isolde lifted her head to see small streaks of silver run over his body, ending at his chest, like an old man who once had jet black hair that was now turning gray. 

She fell into his arms out of exhaustion, and he caught her then laid her upon the ground next to Sir Claudius. 

“Oh, why did I do that, Henri?” she whispered.

“It was a rash decision, I agree, Mademoiselle Byrne,” he spoke, still trembling. 

“Please. Call me ‘Madame Everleigh’. Or, you may call me ‘Isolde’, as you have been doing.” She collapsed, then went into a deep slumber.

Or has she fainted? Henri wondered.

He dragged her to the fireplace by her feet, before throwing his traveling cape over her and putting his hat under her head for pillow support. 

“There,” he said. “I hope she comes back to her senses when she wakes up.”

The sound of his voice bounced off the walls, before coming straight back to him and ringing in his ears. He sighed, then trekked toward Sir Claudius. 

The massive dragon’s breathing became more shallow the closer Henri got—almost wheezing. Claudius removed his claws from over his head, revealing eyes that spoke of years and years of pain and torture. Of entrapment.

Turning to face Sir Claudius, Henri spoke: “Athena’s disappeared again—”

Claudius reared back, his wings unfolding. 

Henri shushed the dragon. “Oh, I believe she will be alright. No need to fear. I have no idea as to her whereabouts but, if she hasn’t returned by sundown, I will go after her.”

Claudius folded his wings again, then nodded toward Isolde.

Henri turned around, then grimaced as he faced Sir Claudius again. “Isolde was merely… out of sorts for a moment. Motherly anxiety, I suppose.” Henri laughed slightly, then cleared his throat. “Old friend, I wish you could speak.” Henri reached a hand out, touching Sir Claudius’s snout. 

The dragon closed his eyes, pressing into his friend’s soft, baby-like hands that had hardly ever seen daylight. 

“If you did speak, what would you say?” Henri stroked his fingers up and down the snout, beginning at Sir Claudius’s eye slits and then going down to his nostrils.

The dragon opened his glowing blue eyes—small ponds enshrouded in a black forest. A thin black line lay in the middle of his eyes before it enlarged into a circular pupil. Henri noticed his reflection in the big black pit.

“If you could tell me, Sir—”

Claudius snorted, a wind of smoke issuing out of his nostrils and slapping Henri in the face.

“Right. Claudius. If you could tell me, Claudius, what was your relation with Mademoiselle Athena? I’ve had my suspicions, but I need confirmation.” He looked off into the distance, at the resting form of Mrs. Everleigh. “Did you… love Athena? More than a companionship: a romantic love?” 

Henri turned his head back to face Sir Claudius. The dragon’s mouth widened as if to speak, and his teeth gleamed in the firelight—pearly white, cleaner, and clearer than any humans’. But soon, the dragon shut his jaws and nodded his head.

“I knew it!” Henri exclaimed, before covering his mouth and inching his head around to the fireplace. He sighed as Isolde still lay lifeless on the floor. “I think she must have fainted. It will probably take her a while to come to. Let’s hope so.” He reached up a hand to Sir Claudius. “Did… Mademoiselle Athena reciprocate this great love?”

Sir Claudius nodded again.

“I’m glad to hear that. I could tell that she loved you deeply.” He laughed, throwing his head back, reminiscing. “I remember when she came into my shop for the first time, she told me that she had someone whom she loved, but he was vile and nasty and—”

The dragon whined, rearing his body backward, and slinging his head onto the ground.

“Oh, but this was a year or two ago, Claudius. Things have changed so much since. Why… My business is booming now! More than it ever has before. Anyway, I can tell that her affections for you have altered since. She is so much more steady now, and I know by listening to her story the other night, that she feels a great deal for you, mon ami.” He sighed. “After all, she was but a child when she first entered my shop. And now, she is a woman,” Henri declared in his silky French accent.

Sir Claudius raised one of his scaly red brows and twisted his mouth into a skeptical look.

“I’ve improved upon my conversational skills, no? I know how to talk to the common people regarding common topics now!” he sounded—a hint of pride in his tone.

I’ve never heard him speak this way before, Claudius thought, twisting his brows even more and snorting a puff of smoke out of his nostrils.

“But it all began with you, mon ami. You were the one who first corrected me when it came to conversational manners. And I… am eternally grateful for that.” Henri smiled, shutting his eyes in contentment, and patted Sir Claudius on the nose. 

“It’s becoming awfully cold here,” he said. The man then slid down upon the dragon’s neck, landing on the floor. He nestled into the crevice of the dragon’s chest then reached out a hand, feeling for a heat source from Claudius’s heart, but the more he searched, the colder the dragon’s flesh became. Henri winced, drawing his fingers back. 

“Oh, Claudius, what are we going to do with you?” he said. “I hope that whatever Mademoiselle Athena is doing, she is out there searching for a solution. She must be.”

Sir Claudius faced the other direction, staring off into the distance. 

“You know, Claudius… I am proud of you.”

The dragon’s ears pricked, suddenly facing the ground where Henri sat.

“Oh, yes, I am. I’m proud that… even after twenty years—more than twenty years now—you never gave up hope. You managed to find someone to love you. You let someone come into your heart even after my disappearance.”

Laying his head on the stones, Claudius shut his eyes. He let out what Henri believed to be a sigh; it was heavy and long, and a small stream of fire and smoke puffed out of his mouth. The dragon’s skin rattled, and a low vibration emitted from his neck, tingling Henri’s skin.

The fire’s intensity dropped. Small radiant flames remained at the base, but nothing like what it had been when Isolde was tending to it. 

“You know, Claudius. I’ve never even successfully tended to a fire. My whole life, I’ve had servants to do it for me. So, I have no clue as to how to bring back its warmth.” He shook his head. “Those old women I used to learn from—the ones in their little cottages that I always thought could be witches—they tried to teach me. We would sit around the fireplace for hours, spinning yarns. But I never could keep a fire running, no matter how hard I tried. So I gave up. I devoted all my time instead to what I loved—the stitching, sewing, knitting, quilts, gowns, appliqués.” 

Tilting his head forward, Henri pressed his hands against the stones. He laid down amongst them but still leaned into the dragon. “Sometimes, Claudius, I think to myself, what if I hadn’t been such a coward?”

Claudius jerked his head around, facing Henri, and grunted. 

“Oh, you know it’s true, Claudius. You knew it from the time when we first met.”

Shaking his head side-to-side, the dragon made a crooning sound, like a baritone on the stage. It wasn’t a song, but something like it.

“I’ve always been a coward,” Henri continued despite Claudius’s soft protests. He looked up at the black world around him. “I should have stayed with Isolde when she was healing me, instead of running off like a frightened boy,” he snarled. “I was so afraid of those men from the pub finding me, that I couldn’t handle being in that town anymore. I should have gone home to you, Claudius. I should have, and I curse myself every day for not doing so. I should have written to you, I should have told Isolde to let you know that I was healed. I should have done… so many things.” His eye twitched, and the blackness of the dungeon sank into his skin. “But I’m a coward and a fool. You suffered for twenty years because of me.”

Claudius nudged him in the side. 

“It’s no use, mon ami. Allow me to relieve myself of my burdens, please.”

The dragon was taken aback, but he curled up and listened to his friend.

“I was too afraid to even write to you… afraid that… they would find the letters somehow, or that you would be upset with me, or… oh, I am not sure.” Henri’s face dropped into his hands.

Wrapping his long neck around the man, Claudius made the same crooning sounds; they vibrated within his neck, transferring to Henri’s pale skin. The man’s trembling subsided and he breathed in deeply. 

“Thank you, Claudius,” he said, reaching out and hugging his scaly neck. “Perhaps I got too carried away.” He sighed. “I must admit, knowing that you are a dragon is… shifting my perspective on life to a good degree but… I am not totally surprised.” Henri grinned, chuckling. “I should have known by all of the serpent imagery, the strange gold you paid with, the dragon tales. I knew there was always more to life than what happens during daytime, but I never would have guessed that I’d become a part of it. That I’d ever know the tales of the forest.” 

A faint glow surged out of Claudius’s eyes. Like a candle withstanding the foggy mountain rain of the hills. The words of Henri enraptured him, churning the dragon’s freezing heart. Blood once again pumped through his veins. 

“Just out of curiosity, Claudius,” Henri spoke, “if you were able to transform whenever you desired—as Mademoiselle Athena does—would you?”

Claudius immediately shook his head, curling his brows in frustration and disgust.

“Ah, well I suppose when you have been cursed for so many years as a creature you despise, you would hope to never have to be that creature again. I thought, for so many years, that perhaps you… admired dragons in some way, seeing as you always spoke of them. But now I understand, you were only trying to keep yourself alive.” Henri brought his thumb up to his chin. “I don’t think I would want to be anything else except human either. Perhaps a spider, so I could spin threads faster. But other than that, I’d like to remain human, so I could focus on my work.” He turned, staring into Claudius’s orbs. “You must feel the same.”

The dragon paused, thinking for a moment, before nodding.

“I thought so. You and your writing. You couldn’t just tell tales, like the dragons. You had to write it down, you had to let it stay. And you had to read the tales of others. You had to explore the language, going farther than where your reptilian ancestors went.” Henri nodded, putting his arms behind his head, before shutting his eyes. “Yes, I understand completely.”

Long, slow breaths emitted out of Henri’s nose. His baby-like face, so untouched by the evils of the world, rested. His brows unfurled, and the lip he chewed on released from his teeth.

Claudius raked his eyes across the man’s body—which was mostly covered by accurately trimmed fabrics and expensive garnishes. But then, on his left hand—the one that cut fabric, layered skirts onto gowns, and stitched intricate designs—there laid a scar. Silvery, and ashen—long and covered with a powdery substance to conceal it. The rest of the scar remained below his cuffs and sleeves. 

The dragon leaned down, opened his mouth, and bit the man’s cuff, carefully holding it in between his sharp teeth. He pulled the fabric down, revealing the rest of the man’s arm.

And there it was. A long scar—the most likely culprit being a long knife. 

Claudius winced, then dragged the fabric back up the man’s arms. 

It’s my fault you had to see the wickedness of the world, Henri.

Chapter 51: Chapter XLVI - Change of Heart

Notes:

Warning: This chapter has a sex scene between two dragons. It is not graphic and very brief, but I still wanted to warn y'all.

Chapter Text

Icy waters splashed into Isolde’s face, tingling her spine. They traversed across her body, seeping into her gown. She felt the droplets under her ribcage.

“Ayy… who’s done this?” she shouted, coming to fruition. Wiping the water from her eyes, a blurry figure came into view. “Athena…?” she gasped.

The girl helped her mother up off the floor. “Henri said you fainted.”

Henri’s traveling coat slid off of the woman’s body as she rose. “That I did,” Isolde said. 

The woman turned her head around, taking in her surroundings. Henri sat in the corner with Sir Claudius, their foreheads pressed together. The dragon had drifted off into a deep slumber once again. 

Isolde whipped her head around to face her daughter. “Where did you run off to?” the woman asked, her eyes stern.

The blossoms of Athena’s cheeks wilted. “I went to find… a friend of mine and Sir Claudius.”

“A friend, ya say?” Isolde put her hands on her hips, arching one of her thin brows.

“Y-yes.” Athena twisted her head, peering toward the rocky entrance to the dungeons.

Sunlight filtered in; a skinny, yet curvaceous, black figure stood in the spotlight. 

Isolde squinted, then her eyes widened once she made out the sight. “A woman? I thought we were the only ones who knew of Sir Claudius—”

“Not a woman, Ma.” Athena grasped her mother’s hand. “She’s another shapeshifter.”

Isolde’s mouth fell open. She let go of her daughter’s hand, standing still in shock. 

Athena bent down to grab the coat, then sprinted toward the front entrance. Heart of the Flame stared Athena down as she paced toward her. The girl covered her eyes with one hand, extending the coat with her other.

“Put this on,” Athena demanded.

“What? No,” Heart of the Flame retorted.

“Do. It.”

Heart of the Flame humphed, then wrapped the cloak about her slender figure—flapping it over her body with contempt. “I don’t understand why I have to do this.”

“Because me Ma would have a fit if she saw yer bare body!” Athena whispered, her voice hoarse and her eyes bloodshot.

“Ah, so that’s your mother?” the woman said, smirking. “Why did I imagine her being more… catlike?”

Athena rolled her eyes. “You know I was born human, Heart of the Flame.”

“I know. I know.” The pale woman turned her head, her eyes moving away from the fireplace and Isolde. She squinted, and her blue eyes glowed in the darkness of the dungeon. “Is that…?”

“Yes,” Athena responded. “Come on. Let me introduce you to my Ma.” The girl moved forward, heading toward the fireplace, her head hanging low.

Heart of the Flame followed behind her, but her eyes remained on the far corners of the dungeon, on that black, slumbering figure. Mountains of gold were on each side of him, and a small man sat in front of him. Heart of the Flame raised a brow.

“Ma, this is… ‘Heart of the Flame’.” Athena winced, looking back and forth between the two women.

Isolde glanced up and down, from the woman’s bare feet to her otherwordly hair. “Is that your real name?” she asked.

“No, of course not.”

“I didn’t think so.”

“And what is yours?”

“Isolde Everleigh.”

“Really? You don’t sound English.”

“I’m not. I was born here and married an Englishman.”

“Intriguing.” Heart of the Flame raked a few fingers through her hair before her expression changed. “I could care less, though.”

Isolde crossed her arms, then lifted her chin in the air.

“There is one thing I’m interested in, however. How did you end up with a shapeshifting daughter?”

“The púcaí granted me a gift for my good deeds. A shapeshifting daughter.”

“Wouldn’t that be more of a burden than a gift?”

“She is the most precious gift I’ve ever received.” Isolde’s chest puffed up. “And might I ask how you became a shapeshifter?”

“I’m so glad you asked. All blue-eyed dragons have special gifts. Mine is shapeshifting.”

“So you’re really a dragon then?”

“I suppose you could say that.”

Isolde leaned up against the fireplace, drumming her fingernails across her arm. “So, Athena—” she kept her eyes on the woman in front of her, “—why have you brought ‘Heart of the Flame’ here?”

“To break the curse, Ma.”

“How’s she gonna do that?”

 

“Athena? How’s she gonna do that?”

 

“Athena.”

 

Flames reflected in the girl’s eyes. Her head bent slightly forward. “She’s gonna mate with ‘im, Ma.” Her lips remained open after the musky air of the dungeon sucked the words up.

A log fell, stirring the flames. Ashes flew, soaring to the black night ceiling, and became stars. 

Athena made a sound, but the sound turned into a small choke in her throat, meaning she hadn’t meant to make the sound. The little girl suddenly spun on her heels, leaning into the fireplace, and the heat slapped her. Like being in the middle of a blizzard at the top of a mountain, fully clothed, but without a mask and facial gear. Ashes that would later become stars stung her cheeks like harsh, wintry snowflakes. The bites left red bee stings. 

Isolde’s raised brow and curled lip fell; she uncrossed her arms. She reached out to wrap an arm around her daughter but pulled back. “Athena…” she grimaced. “Are you sure this is what you want?”

“Yes, Ma,” Athena said, her eyes watering from the heat pounding against her face. “She’s going to mate with him, and that’s that.”

Henri had only heard the last bit of the conversation. He lifted his head at the new information, turning his neck. But his face was like the faces in dreams—formless, expressionless, lifeless. Wrapping his fingers around Claudius’s nostrils, he carefully and quietly shook the dragon awake. 

Heart of the Flame cleared her throat but kept her eyes on Athena’s sulking form as she spoke: “And we will form a new clan. He, the Patriarch. I, the Matriarch.” Her eyes fell. She sighed a low sigh so that Athena and Isolde would not be able to hear. Closing her eyes and breathing in deeply, the woman finished: “The plan is to create a new duty so that Sir Claudius will no longer have to terrorize humans, and I will no longer—”

A low rumble shook the dungeons. The night sky rattled. Meteors fell, landing all upon the cobblestone ground. They broke into bits, scattering. Some of the meteors caught the stars, and thus created a shooting star. 

All heads turned in the direction of the sound. 

Henri slipped away from the monster and ran to the fireplace where the three ladies stood. He hid behind Isolde. The man’s face went cold and his eyes drained, turning white, as a meteor landed on his head. He scooted closer to Isolde and yanked on the back of her dress. The woman pulled him into an embrace, as well as Athena, sheltering the both of them.

As the castle rumbled and shook and meteors fell from the black night ceiling, Heart of the Flame looked behind her and all around. But no one was there to protect her. She put her hands over her head and crouched down.

And then, the low rumbling transformed into a growl, constantly growing higher in pitch. The black figure in the corners shifted, his legs scraping the ground as he attempted to stand. His mouth moved, skin flapping up and down from the vibrations of the growl. Next to the flaps of skin, daggers protruded from his lips. 

Slowly piecing his body back together, the beast found his footing. His eyes burst open, and the massive pupil darted about the dungeon, chasing after his prey. The beast closed his mouth and sniffed the air. And then, his pupils landed. Right next to the fireplace. There.

Charging forward, the dragon locked his eyes on Heart of the Flame’s throat. All of his feet pounded against the ground, leaving claw marks on the cobblestone. 

The pale woman reared back, falling on her side. She put a hand in the air. 

Athena broke free of her mother’s grasp, pushing against Isolde’s strong arms to lunge herself over Heart of the Flame. 

Claudius, noticing the sudden change, dug his claws into the ground, successfully slowing himself. His head jolted forward, and his massive body fell to the floor with a thud. He skidded across the stone. After stopping, Claudius shook his head, wobbling it from side to side. His eyes landed on Athena. 

The vibrations returned. Claudius stood up on all fours again, pacing toward Athena. There was a quiet kind of rage in his eyes. Shoving his gargantuan head in her face, he growled. 

Athena stood still, even with his steaming breath fogging her vision. Her nostrils flared, her eyes narrowed, and her hands balled into fists at her side. She leaned forward, only centimetres away from his midnight scales.

“You’ll not be layin’ a single claw on her, Claudius,” Athena declared.

The dragon’s neck reared back, and he pounded his front legs into the ground. Snorting in her face, Claudius shifted to the side, skulking away from the fireplace. He paced back-and-forth, his mouth wide open, growling to himself. 

Athena humphed, then turned around, helping Heart of the Flame stand. “Are you alright?”

The lady stood, although wobbly on her feet. She nodded, her head shaking.

“Good. Well,” Athena pressed her thumb against her chin, then twirled her hair, “you’ve got to stop bein’ afraid of him for this to work. That goes for you as well, Henri.”

The man shivered, still holding onto Isolde’s skirts. “I- I’ll try,” he managed to spew out.

“We’ve all got to calm down for this to work,” she said. 

“I’ll make some tea,” Isolde said. “Come along, Henri.”

Athena nodded in concurrence with her mother. 

Isolde strutted off, with Henri following behind like an unsure toddler. He crouched over and wrung his hands together. But soon, they disappeared, and the dungeon door slammed shut.

Immediately after the echo of the door slamming evaporated, Claudius jerked his neck to face Athena again. He bared his teeth together, and his head seemed to become narrower, like a serpent, as his mouth formed into a snarl.

“Claudius…” Athena cooed, reaching out for his chin, though she still stood stern to protect Heart of the Flame. “Please do this,” she whispered, tears growing in her eyes. 

The dragon’s eyes softened, the deadly, icy blues melting into calm spring water. He leaned into her rose petal hand and shut his eyes.

Heart of the Flame’s breaths slowed. She drew nearer to Athena, watching over the girl’s shoulder. 

The only sounds that could be heard were the trees and tall grasses rustling outside as well as the crackling of the fireplace. 

One of Claudius’s legs buckled, falling underneath his chest. And then another. He reached out a front arm to hold himself up, but it was no use.

Athena removed her hand from under his chin and backed into Heart of the Flame. Both ladies took several paces backward as Claudius collapsed on the stone-cold floor. The castle shook as the boom echoed all over. His outstretched arm almost touched Athena. She sat down and placed her cheeks into his scaly palm.

“I’m sorry, Claudius,” she cried. “But I have to do this.” Her eyes glowed, the firelight reflecting in her tears. Droplets of fire streamed down her face. 

Heart of the Flame wrapped her arms around herself, backing away even further from the two. It was such a pretty picture, the two of them, all wrapped up in one another. Beauty and the Beast. 

And she was the one who didn’t belong.

 

The dungeon door slammed. Heart of the Flame whirred around. 

Isolde came down the steps with a tray of steaming tea. Henri followed behind, with one cup already in his hands. The color had returned to his face.

The woman strolled over, handed a cup to Heart of the Flame, and then set one down beside her daughter.

“Thanks, Ma,” Athena said, stroking Claudius’s face with the back of her hand while he slumbered. 

“Of course…” Isolde replied. She placed the tray on the ground next to the fireplace. Then turned to take another look at her daughter. “Athena,” she called.

“Yes?” The girl didn’t even move her body in the slightest, only stroking Claudius’s cheek.

“I…” Isolde had hardly ever stuttered in her life. “I just…” The dungeon seemed to fall all around her, closing in on her to finish the sentence. “I’m so sorry, Athena….”

The girl paused. She took a deep breath. “It’ll be alright,” she whispered, her back turned to everyone. 

Henri sipped on his tea, but his brows furrowed. He looked to Isolde. “I suppose we should go,” he said. 

“Where?”

“I don’t know. Another part of the castle perhaps.”

Isolde nodded. She walked up to her daughter and stroked her hair, took a glance at Sir Claudius, then turned away.

Henri took slow steps, plodding along on the stone floors. He walked like a ghost up to Sir Claudius and Athena. “I’m sorry, my friends,” he spoke. “I only hope that this will work and that you both will be… happy.” 

“Thank you, Henri.” 

The man felt like he was wading upstream as he walked out of the dungeons. Everything in his being fought him and told him to go back and stop the whole thing from happening. 

Heart of the Flame waited for them to leave. She listened as their footsteps disappeared down the hallway. Then the lady shuffled over to Athena. Her shadow fell over the girl.

“Whenever you’re ready, Heart of the Flame. Just say the word, and I’ll leave.” Her face was gaunt, drawn up, like a freshly-dead corpse—mouth stiff, eyes soulless, cheeks hollowed out.

“Oh, Athena…” Heart of the Flame knelt down. “I am waiting for you. Take all the time you need.”
The girl looked up at Heart of the Flame, saw in the woman’s face that she was being genuine, and slowly began to slink up from Claudius’s grasp. 

His claws fell to the floor once she removed herself, hitting the ground with a thud. 

“Athena, you know there is a chance this might not work,” Heart of the Flame said.

“Why is that?”

“The dragon elders may not accept our new clan. That is a very likely possibility, but I should hope not since my new duty is very honorable.”

Athena’s features shifted. “You never told me what your new duty will be.”

“I never did, did I?” The woman looked down at her potential mate. “Well, it will be to protect the forests.”

Athena lifted a brow. “From?”

Heart of the Flame sighed, facing away from the girl. “Progress, I suppose, as you humans say.” She laughed. “I hoped perhaps our clan’s duty would be to use our gifts—such as our shapeshifting—to not terrify the humans, but rather inform them of what they are doing to our forests. Our homes. So that they might not destroy us, as well as other forest creatures and life.” 

Looking down at the ground, Athena said, “Haven’t you tried scaring the humans away? Fighting them? Burning down their supplies?”

“Don’t you think we already have?” Heart of the Flame retorted, spitting. “Why do you think my old clan was formed?”

Athena’s eyes widened. “I… I didn’t realize.”

“I recognized that it wasn’t working. There are not enough dragons left to take on all of the humans and their machines. After we would kill one troop and demolish all of their machines, more would just come back. With weapons this time, to fend us off. Many years ago, when I was just a fledgling, we dragons could take on hundreds of humans with their meager weapons. But now, it’s an entirely different battlefield. We cannot withstand these new guns. The old ones, yes, but not these.” Heart of the Flame’s head sank.

Athena walked near her and placed a hand on hers. 

The woman’s face tilted upward, and she smiled. “I hoped that… somehow we could speak with them as humans. Claudius’s oral skills and my own…” she giggled, “methods of persuasion.” Heart of the Flame winked.

Athena blinked, confused, but went on: “And what will you do if the elders do not accept?”

The woman’s head sank again. “Find a new mate, I suppose, and try again.”

Athena’s eyes widened, and she pulled away from Heart of the Flame. “So, you think Claudius will be the reason why they do not accept?” Her voice became higher in pitch. Panic etched her voice.

“I’m afraid so… He may be the son of one of the most respected clans but… he is most known for betraying his kind. His tale is known throughout dragon clans far and wide. But he is also the only known blue-eyed dragon that I could find. I hoped that maybe, just maybe, the elders might see that he has changed. I meant to tell Sir Claudius of the new duty, but he banished me before I could do so. I can only hope that he will agree with the duty once he finds out about it.” Heart of the Flame winced, her shoulders falling.

“I think he will,” Athena replied, a small smile at the corners of her mouth. “As you said, it is an honorable duty.”

“And you are alright with this?” Heart of the Flame asked.

“Yes,” Athena said, looking down at her love. “Anything to break the curse, even if he doesn't want to do it.”

“What if he doesn’t forgive you, or me?”

“I don’t care. As long as he is alive.” Athena’s eyes turned cold, as cold as the stone floors. 

Heart of the Flame nodded. She shut her eyes.

Turning away from the woman, Athena knelt down and placed a kiss on top of Claudius’s head. “You will be healed soon, my love.” The girl arose, then exited the dungeons.

After the door slammed shut, Heart of the Flame took off the coat and immediately transformed into her dragon state. She prepared for the mating ritual by placing more logs on the fire and blowing flames onto them. The elders’ souls would arrive in the flames, and their council would commence right after Sir Claudius had finished. If they agreed, the two would brand one another. She would probably have to force him to brand her.

Heart of the Flame looked down at her future mate, watching as his chest rose and fell. Stone scales formed all across his tail and back, almost reaching his heart. 

The entire time, there were no thoughts in her brain nor stirrings in her soul, nothing. This was just a duty. This was just a deal she had made with a human girl. Just a way for her to begin the clan she had always dreamed of. That’s all. 

She drew nearer to his side and nudged at his hind legs with her snout. She grabbed at one with her teeth, pulling it out from underneath him. 

Claudius’s breathing picked up, and his heart thumped faster.

Heart of the Flame quickened her pace, beginning to pull him over onto his side. She tugged at his hind legs until he flopped over onto his back. An “Umph!” exited from his mouth. The female dragon began to panic, hoping he wouldn’t fully arouse.

His light red underside was completely stoneless. Only scales and skin. But if she didn’t get this over with now, the curse might traverse there next. His eyes were still closed.

Just get it over with. Don’t look at him and get it over with, she told herself.

Placing herself on top of him, the female dragon commenced the ritual. Everything was foggy and glowy, like early morning when the dew and mist rolled over the hills. There was something in her stomach and chest that pushed her onward, some primordial pulling and tugging. She closed her eyes, not daring to look at him. Only the blackness of night and nothingness.

He stirred beneath her weight. Tossing from side to side, Claudius made low rumbling sounds. 

Keep your eyes shut. Keep your eyes shut.

Heart of the Flame slowed down, as she felt Claudius awakening. She peeled her eyes open, and the world was mushy at first. Hot, like when prey is first opened. Steam and water and wild feelings in the pit of one’s stomach. The feeling that you had to sink your teeth into your prey, that you had to finish mating.

But then, Heart of the Flame looked. 

In Claudius’s eyes, there was something she had never seen before in a dragon. Humans, and prey, of course. But never dragons. 

His eyes were sunken in, and far off, looking in the distance and yet looking nowhere at all.

He knew what was happening, but he let it happen. 

The female dragon stopped, picking herself up off of him and backing away. She backed into a shelf of letters and quills. The pages fluttered into the air and the ink spilled. Slipping over the ink, the fell to the ground, landing on top of all the parchment paper.

I can’t.

Heart of the Flame transformed into a human once more. Ink covered her stomach and bare chest. She picked herself up off the ground and threw the coat over her body, before flying out of the dungeons. Claudius flipped himself over slowly, watching as she went along. He still had the distant, far-away look in his eyes, but now he was confused more than anything.

 

The dungeons were silent momentarily, until Athena broke through the doors, sprinting toward Sir Claudius. She stopped, skidding on her heels when she saw his still-silver tail and back.

“Claudius… Claudius? No….”

“Athena, I’m sorry.” Heart of the Flame followed right after. She walked up to Athena, putting a hand on the girl’s shoulder.

Athena stood stiff and still. Her shoulders lurched. “We had a deal,” she whispered, her eyes stuck on the dragon in front of her.

“I know, but I just couldn’t—”

“We had a deal!!” Athena shouted, whipping around and slapping Heart of the Flame’s hand away. Her face turned blood red as she seethed, stepping toward the older woman.

“Athena, please, listen to me.” Heart of the Flame put her hands in front of her.

“He has to live. He has to. He has to!” She began to falter with her steps. “If you don’t mate with him, I’ll— I’ll…” Athena collapsed on her knees, at Heart of the Flame’s feet. She sobbed on the ground, her body lurching up and down. Her hair cascaded over her back, looking like rivers of tears falling over her. “No, no, no, no. It’s not true. It can’t be true…” The girl shrieked, the shrill sound causing more meteors to fall out of the night sky. 

The sound rang in Sir Claudius’s ears, causing him immense pain. 

“Please… he can’t….” Athena cried.

A hand touched Athena’s back, rubbing up and down in a soothing manner. “Athena… my precious inion,” Isolde said. Wiping away a tear, the woman hummed to her daughter. “There’s nothing more we can do.” 

Henri trekked not far behind Isolde, coming down the steps. His head was lifted, looking over at the fireplace where Sir Claudius’s silvery-black figure lay. Soon, Henri lowered his head.

Athena continued to weep, and spit came out of her mouth as she formed words. “I only wish that… I could speak to him just one final time.” The girl heaved, hardly able to get a breath in. “I tried so hard to save him. I tried. I tried.” She rolled over onto her back, looking her mother in the eyes. “But he couldn’t save himself.” 

Isolde sat her daughter up, held onto her, and stroked her hair. “Shh, shh… it’s alright. It’ll turn out alright.”

Henri sat down to join the two ladies and put an arm around the both of them. All of the tears he had been holding in poured out; the dam had broken.

Outside the dungeons, the sun fell. Its golden streaks painted the land. Heart of the Flame turned to face the small opening that led to the outside. A rock juggled within her throat, until it rose and rose, turned to water, and came forth out of her eyes. She walked past the three of them and near to Sir Claudius.

He looked at her intently, his body shriveling up.

Sighing, the woman spoke: “I should have done this long ago. I am sorry for that, Sir Claudius.” She bowed her head, reached out a hand, and placed it upon his forehead. “The transformation won’t last long, but it will give you at least enough time to say goodbye.”

Claudius nodded in understanding. A barely-noticeable smile formed upon his mouth. His eyes changed.

Through sobs and tears, Heart of the Flame initiated the transformation. Her eyes closed, and her skin turned a bright red, almost like a burn from the sun. Her inner body glowed: her ribcage was visible through her skin, gleaming a deeper red.

The brilliant color shocked Henri, Isolde, and Athena. They stood up as their bodies were caked with the color of the sun at dawn. 

Flames spiraled out of the woman’s hands, and her bright red eyebrows turned into tiny fires.

His scales lit up, and the heat of the flames made the silver melt away, running right off of his body. The remaining scales then disappeared—a small puff of smoke was sent into the air each time one went away. His tail receded, vanishing into his back. Eventually, the dragon became covered in smoke, and all that anyone could see was his enormous form shrinking—each body part becoming smaller and more humanlike. His legs lost their curve and stuck out straight, and so did his arms. Then his neck dug down into his spine until it was the appropriate size for a man. 

Finally, his face and the features lifted upward. His snout flew up and turned into a nose, and his mouth became smaller and shifted up to the higher part of his face. All of his scales poofed away, leaving red flesh before pale human skin grew back. The eyes that everyone had come to know lost their size and became more like an oval than a circle. 

Removing her hand from his forehead, Heart of the Flame backed up. She took the coat from her body and placed it over him before stepping away into the clouds of smoke and darkness. 

Still huddling together, Henri, Isolde, and Athena stood up and pressed onward toward the man. He was sprawled out on the ground, face down, but breathing. Alive. His long black locks billowed in the slight breeze coming from outside.

Athena separated herself from the group, taking cautious steps on her own to be nearer to her love. She crouched down, touching his smooth hand and spreading her fingers over his. “Claudius. Claudius,” she whispered, sobbing. “Please wake up, Claudius.”

Muffled noises came from the floor. Isolde and Henri flocked to his side, helping Claudius sit up. They pushed him until he could sit up on his own. 

The man opened his eyes, bright as the blue sky. He turned to Athena, who sat at his side, her hand still wrapped around his. 

“So, you’ve all come to see me?” he said, his voice weak and hoarse.

“Oh, Claudius!” Athena cried, throwing herself at him and kissing him all over.

Isolde gasped, her eyes becoming hawklike again. But the hawk eyes did not remain for long before they filled with tears again. 

Henri crept over to the man’s side. “Yes, we’ve all come to see you, old friend.” He cried, patting Claudius on the back.

“I’m so glad you all could make it. This is how I always wanted it to be,” Claudius said, his face twisted in pain, but a weak smile had made its way onto his face. The man turned around, looking off into the distance. “Heart of the Flame…” he called. “Where are you?”

Athena, Isolde, and Henri all looked at one another with fear in their eyes. What was Claudius doing?

“I’m over here, Claudius. But I’m not coming out. I’ll just stay here until the transformation wears off.”

“And when will that be?”

“When I haven’t the strength to keep you human anymore. I will try for as long as I can though.”

He nodded his head, turning back around. “Very well then. It is what it is.”

Athena nestled closer to Claudius, and he put an arm around her. “I know how hard this is, my love,” he said, wincing, tears welling up in his eyes. “But… I can’t live this way anymore.”

She choked, leaning into him. “Why not? Why not?” the girl cried.

“Because… I don’t want to. I can’t take it anymore,” he cooed, shushing her. Claudius took the back of her head and pressed it into him, petting her hair and kissing her forehead. “I wish—that I could be human for you, Athena. But I cannot.”

Athena continued to cry, but the more he spoke, the more she calmed down. She listened to the thumping of his heart in his chest, like she had all those times before.

Claudius looked up and extended his arm out to Henri Clermont. The other man took it, wiping away tears with his other hand. “My friend, I’m so glad you’ve come. I never got to say goodbye to you.”

“I know, and I’m sorry—”

“There’s no need to apologize at all, dear old friend. All I ask is that you are here now. I wish we could have long chats like we used to, but I’m afraid that just isn’t going to happen. Just know that, whenever you… whenever you have a difficult customer who you can’t get through to, I’ll be there. Guiding you along, giving you the right words to say.”

Henri nodded, grinning through the tears and the ache in his chest. “Of course, mon ami,” he said. “I’ll never forget you, Claudius.”

The man’s gaze shifted over to Isolde, who stared at the ground. “Mrs. Everleigh,” he said, “I know we have not always been on the best of terms, but I hope you can see that I love your daughter dearly.”

The woman nodded, her eyes still on the floor.

“I wish I could love her until the end of my days, but I cannot. However, I can rest knowing that you will.”

Isolde looked up, her face red and puffy. She smiled at Sir Claudius.

“Thank you for taking care of the two people I care most about. Without you, Mrs. Everleigh, I would not be who I am today. Thank you.” 

They each bowed their heads to one another, before Claudius rubbed the nape of Athena’s neck. “Oh, my Athena, my Athena. I’m so sorry it had to end this way.”

She lifted her head, in a sort of daze. Her lips were all wet and purple. “You still have time to change your mind.”

Claudius bit his tongue, but he closed his eyes and shook his head. “Athena…” he sobbed, fighting the tears. The man looked up, his eyes watery and glistening. “I would rather die and be remembered fondly by few, than live and be feared by many.”

“But you still have time to change your duty! Oh, Claudius, please consider! Heart of the Flame will tell you all about her duty. She will—”

“Athena.”

“It’s just wonderful. You can help save the forests—”

“Athena,” Claudius snapped.

She stopped.

“I don’t want to be a dragon at all. Besides, you have a life of your own to lead. You don’t need me here holding you back.”

“Claudius…” she cried. “You’ve never held me back.”

He sighed. “Oh, Athena. I can’t do this. I can’t. Why can’t you understand that? Why make me go through with things that I don’t want to do?” 

The pain in his eyes became too much for Athena. She slid away from him. 

“I’ll always love you, Athena, even in the spirit realm I’ll love you. But I can’t live like this anymore,” he pleaded with her.

Isolde pulled her daughter into her chest. Athena sank, folding her arms into her mother. “Shh, shh, child,” she cooed, swaying back and forth. “There’s nothing else to be done.”

A rising pain formed in Claudius’s legs. Like sacks of coins were weighing them down. 

Baring his teeth together, clenching, he powered through the pain. 

Heart of the Flame called suddenly: “I can’t hold it much longer, Sir Claudius!” Her voice was barely above a whisper. She began gasping for air.

The man’s body lurched. His veins turned blood red. He fell to the ground, soon becoming lifeless.

Athena screamed. Isolde wrapped her arms around her daughter and carried her away. The girl reached out an arm, fighting to return to her beloved, but she wasn’t strong enough to escape.

Henri stood up, backing away from Sir Claudius. He turned away and followed after the two women, his head hung low.

After they had exited, Heart of the Flame released her hold on Claudius’s human form. She walked to him while he transformed for one final time, kneeling over the man.

A wave of peace settled over Claudius’s eyes, the peace that death brings. He gasped for air, but couldn’t get the sound out. Then his lips formed the final words:

“Thank you….”

Chapter 52: Chapter XLVII - The Spirit Realm

Chapter Text

Sir Claudius’s soul drifted into the fireplace. He was born out of fire, and so he returned to it. 

The stone had finally reached his heart, turning it hard and cold like the fierce Ireland winters. And the rest of his body followed soon after—his chest, forelimbs, underbelly, neck, and lastly, his long snout and eyes. 

Flames whisked his silvery-blue soul up out of the chimney and into the moonbeams. Moonlight sucked him up and carried him away.

 

Everything was just as it had been on earth. Beochaoineadh Castle remained, as well as the cliffs and forests and sea. But the land was covered in a light blue haze, like mists in the early morning. And shimmering spirits—púcaí, wisps, ghosts, and others—bounced about in the gardens. Deer spirits frolicked in the nearby fields, skipping and leaping like dolphins over the ocean.

There were hardly any sounds, just the sea waves lolling and crashing against the cliffs. Every step Sir Claudius made into the dirt was silent, and his tracks disappeared behind him as he walked down the pebbled driveway leading into his castle.

But then, a voice:

“So, you have a human soul.”

Sir Claudius’s ears perked. It was a voice he had almost forgotten. Everything in him stopped. His blue lips trembled. “H-hello… Father.”

“Hello, my son,” the voice returned, low and calm. 

Claudius inched around, stiff as a tall oak. Never before had Claudius seen his father’s soul, for it was not black and red as his earthly form was. Instead, there was a dark, navy blue dragon standing before him, basking in the moonbeams. The patriarch was enormous, larger than both Sir Claudius and Heart of the Flame combined—practically trumping Beochaoineadh Castle. Loose skin hung down from his neck, almost like a beard, and it swung in the slight breeze. Multiple silvery brandings scattered all across his body like a patterned tapestry was draped over his scaly skin.

“Am I blue, too?” Claudius asked, holding his hands out in front of him. 

“Everything is this hue in the spirit realm, Claudius,” the Patriarch replied.

The man bobbed his head up and down, his face stuck in an expression of both awe and hesitation. “Are we both… dead?”

The Patriarch shook his head. “You are. However, I am not, my son. Since I am an Elder, I can pass through the realms as I please.” He hung his head. “I keep tabs on all of my children. I always make it a priority, whenever one of my children pass—whether they have remained in the clan or ventured out on their own—to visit them.”

Claudius took in a deep breath. “So, my soul is human… but where is my dragon body?”

“Right where you left it. You could travel to the dungeons if you wanted and find it.”

“Oh, no. I never want to see that skin ever again. I’m… oh…” His skin turned bright white as he sighed with relief and a blue flame ignited in his eyes. “Oh, I’m so glad to be rid of it!” Running his hands through his shimmering blue hair, Claudius grinned and hollered for joy. 

The Dragon Patriarch frowned, his old, saggy scales shifting downward. “I wish you would not speak like that, Claudius.”

The man’s arms fell to his side. “Why not? You know better than anybody how much I loathed my dragon skin. And now I can be forever free from it!”

“I know, I know,” the Patriarch spoke. “But… oh, Claudius, you never learned, did you?”

“Learned what?” 

The Dragon Patriarch lifted his forelimbs, rearing up slightly before pressing them into the ground again. He turned around, his tail slinking, but leaving no trace that he had been there. “You know better than anyone, Claudius—as a Master of Potions—that all enchantments have stipulations. And there are reasons behind them.” 

Claudius followed his father, stepping alongside his massive form. “I always felt that it was a curse, never an enchantment. For I could never be fully who I wanted.” His face grew stern, as he stared into his father’s slitted eyes. “It was a living hell being two halves, but never a whole, Father.”

Lifting up a claw, the Patriarch rubbed the back of his neck. “I—” He faltered. “I never knew what to do with you, Claudius.” He looked off into the distance. All of the spirits had dispersed elsewhere, not wanting to disturb the two of them—although a few stragglers hid behind bushes in the garden, listening. “You never knew your mother. You never knew what she was like.”

Claudius shook his head. He hadn’t wondered about her in decades.

“She was a rogue, a traveler, going from clan to clan—but I did not know this at the time. She asked permission to join and, as is tradition in our clan, I mate with new members first before anyone else. I… thought that she would mate with others but—she never did. There were only a few other brandings on her side, so I knew she did not mate very oft—”

“What was she like?” Claudius interrupted.

“Pardon?”

“Her personality? Her features? Anything?”

The Patriarch threw his head back and let out a deep booming laugh, almost a roar. “Oh, you are human, aren’t you?” he spoke. “I hardly remember, Claudius. She was bright red—like you—with a few white and silver markings. And her eyes were green and yellow. Oh, she was quiet and soft. Shy, but eager as we mated. She hardly ever spoke. Even as she had you, she barely said a word— then… she left. Almost as soon as she had arrived, she left.”

Claudius leaned forward, reaching out for his father’s arm. “But… why? Didn’t she want anything to do with me?”

The Patriarch sighed. “Claudius, I know, as a human, you want to believe that your mother cared for you, but the truth is—not all dragon mothers remain with their young. Oh, some do, but your mother was a roamer and likely wanted to go mate with someone else in another clan. We were all surprised when she left, but there are many dragons—male and female—who live as such.”

“So, that’s it?” Claudius huffed. “I die and go to the spirit realm all to just see the one who cursed me again, and to learn that my own mother wanted nothing to do with me.” He strutted away from his father, heading toward the castle doors. “At least Athena will be here in a few decades, and then I can finally be at peace.”

The Patriarch drew his eyebrows together. “Athena...?” 

Sir Claudius rested his fingers on the door handle, not pulling. “She… is a girl.” He winced.

“A human girl?”

“Yes, well, mostly.” He rubbed the back of his neck.

“Mostly?”

“She’s… she was born with a gift. Half-púcaí, half-human. She can shift whenever she pleases.”

“Hmmm…” the Patriarch hummed, scratching his loose skin with his thick claws. “So, what is your relationship with this... girl?”

Claudius gulped. “Well, a— romantic… one?”

The Patriarch’s eyebrows uncreased and he closed his eyes. “So, you have fallen in love, as the humans say.”

Claudius reared back, turning around. “Is there anything wrong with that?”

“You know how I feel about lifelong mates—or ‘spouses’. You are a dragon, Claudius. You are not meant to—”

“I am not a dragon, Father. My soul is human. I am human.” He marched forward, pointing a finger at the monstrous beast in front of him.

The Patriarch sighed, lowering his head. “I’ve argued this with you before, and I shan’t do it again. But I’ll tell you: It is the way of life for dragons to mate multiple times. We do not pick and choose one mate, we do not sell our mates, or give away mates for diplomatic reasons—as humans do. We are all bonded together; our clan is strong because we are all connected.” He put his claw up against his heart. “Oh, Claudius, I only wish you could understand. What it’s like to live in a clan where there is trust and respect between each member. I suppose that the humans around here cannot understand that. So, there is adultery and divorces and lies and manipulation. There is none of that in the dragon world, my son. I only wish you could understand. That’s why—” He took a deep breath. “That’s why I wanted you to remain partially dragon so that maybe, you could learn what it is to love in our way.”

Claudius faced the ground, shifting his feet in the pebbles. Blue mists swirled around his face. “Father, I always understood what it meant,” he said, lifting his head suddenly.

The Patriarch’s features twisted, confused.

“I never disagreed with the ways of the dragons. I think it’s wonderful that you feel this way about mates. If you want to know the real truth, I had considered mating with a female dragon not too long back but decided against it. Because Father,” he looked the dragon in the eye, pleading with him, “this kind of love is not for me.” The man’s features and wrinkles softened and his eyebrows unfurled. “No, not all humans mate for life. Certainly not. But… some do,” he said. “I do. I could never be with anyone else except Athena. My heart knows her and only her.” Claudius flung his arm around, speaking into the distance. “Even with the temptation of… Heart of the Flame and Henri… oh, I couldn’t let my Athena go. She means too much to me. We are one and the same.” Claudius smiled at the thought of rose petals falling, the colors pink and blue.

The Patriarch winced, sliding his paws in the ground. “So, now that you are gone… how do you think she will cope?”

Claudius’s shoulders fell and he ran a hand through his hair. “This should have never happened to someone so young. She does not even know who she is, Father. All she knew is that she loved me. I saw it in her. She gave up every part of herself to save me.” He had a far-away look in his eyes and his mouth hung open. “That kind of love I wish I could have given her. Part of me wants to start all over as a man so that I can live out our great love together.”

“But, Claudius…” The Patriarch’s head slipped onto the pebbles. “Do you not see the issue here?”

The man waited in anticipation, ready to roll his eyes.

“Do you not see that Athena was much too young to be in such a… devoted relationship? Now that you are gone, what is she supposed to do with herself?”

Claudius scratched his chin and his eyes drew closer together as he winced. “I suppose... you’re right, Father. I hadn’t….” He pulled away, marching into the grass, pacing back and forth. “Oh… Isolde was right!” The man wrapped his arms around his head and crouched down, squatting on his heels. “Athena was never a rose like I thought she was—like I wanted her to be! She was never a domesticated, tame rose who would sit and read with me at the fireplace, or do everything I said.” Suddenly, he flung himself up out of the fetal position. Standing on the grass, his face lit up. “She is a wild rose. A wild rose that’s barely bloomed.”

Winds circled all about them; the ocean waves roared at the cliffs.

“Oh, Father, I’ve been so foolish!” He spread his arms out, opening up his chest. “I knew who I was. I’ve known who I am for centuries!” he cried. “But Athena never had time to figure out who she was before I died.” A sudden sadness came over the man. “I never got to see her bloom. I was too selfish to realize, so eager to love and be loved… perhaps it was better to wait before pursuing a relationship so serious with her.”

The Patriarch nodded his head and grinned a toothy grin. A hearty laugh erupted out of the chambers of his belly and throat, smoke spewing out of his mouth. “Oh, my son, you may have lived longer than any human on earth but… you are still such a child when it comes to love. I am proud of you for your epiphany, however.” His smile faded and he turned away into the blue moonlight. “You are not a weakling, as so many of the clan members thought. I once thought so too but… now I understand. After all these years, you wanted to live and love in the human way. Even if you respected the dragon way, you couldn’t live like it and be content.” The Patriarch rubbed his paws together, leaning on his back legs and long tail. “I’ll make you a deal, Claudius.”

The man’s ears pricked.

“The abilities I have acquired over time are powerful,” the dragon said, forming a ball of energy and light in-between his paws. “You may have to wait years for this certain spell to take place but… that is the challenge I leave to Athena.”

“Athena?” he gasped, leaning forward. “Why Athena? What does she have to do?”

“Well, why not?” He grinned. “After all, she still has her own story to write."

Chapter 53: Chapter XLVIII - A Change in Charles

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Charles Everleigh did not know what to think upon seeing his crying wife and daughter—not to mention a strange Frenchman—entering the home late one night. But the man was soon made out to be Monsieur Henri Clermont—his daughter’s dressmaker and his sister’s business partner. They shook hands and sat down at the dinner table while Mrs. Everleigh ushered her hysterical daughter to her white linen bed.

Monsieur Clermont explained that his dear old friend, Sir Claudius of Beochaoineadh Castle, had passed on. He was an old, decrepit man, in poor health. At the request of Sir Claudius, there would be no funeral service or burial. He had wandered off into the woods somewhere and died alone. 

Charles immediately became distressed. His face went as white as the glittering rays reflecting in the sea in the morning.

Isolde stepped in, her forefinger and thumb pinching the skin in-between her eyes, her head hung low. Athena’s sobs and wails could be heard from the bedroom. There were tears in Isolde’s eyes which Charles had never before seen.

The man stood, his hand reaching up to his neck. He asked if she knew what was going on, and the woman replied in the affirmative. She had known all along. She knew about Sir Claudius. About Athena working for him.

He sat back down, staring at the table. His wife sat down too, next to Monsieur Clermont. She folded her arms, and her face was tired and gaunt. She must have been too distraught to even fault her husband for his shortcomings.

Monsieur Clermont sensed the tension between the man and his wife, and so he changed the subject by asking if he could remain for the night. Charles nodded. 

He asked her how long she had known, and she said for well over a year or two. But then, he asked something he should not have: If his wife had known he never actually went to work in town, and instead all of the gold came from Sir Claudius.

The monstrous woman slammed her hands on the table, pushing herself up and scooting the chair back. Monsieur Clermont scooted away from her, putting his hand over his face. She pointed her finger at her husband, and her face turned a blistering red. Spitting words fired out of her mouth—curses in her native language he couldn’t understand, and then some in English he could. Monsieur Clermont gasped at the last few words.

Charles ducked his head. Isolde asked, with a bite in her words, if the new job in Dublin was real or fake. He replied that it was real—which was the truth. He finally felt at home in Dublin, where the cultured society was blossoming. He couldn’t handle the lines of work in the small town, and instead went to the pubs each day. So when he had enough gold for a suit and new horses and carriages to transport him to Dublin, the man took that opportunity.

Isolde clawed the table, her nails sinking into the silvery table cloths with ornate designs. Monsieur Clermont lurched at that then quickly asked for a room. Charles stood, avoiding his wife, and pulled the Frenchman out of the dining room, assuring him they had the loveliest little guest room. 

The woman watched as they walked out. She turned around, banged her fist on the table, and leaned over it. 

~❦︎~

Monsieur Clermont departed the next morning for Dublin. Athena promised to visit him soon, and so did Isolde, who desperately needed a new wardrobe. 

Charles avoided his wife by spending most of the day with his daughter, who was in a deep period of mourning for her old friend. His little girl, who—somehow… he didn’t quite know how—was turning into a woman before his eyes. The grief stole the girlish gleam out of her eyes and turned her into a woman.

Athena asked to visit Beochaoineadh Castle a week after Monsieur Clermont left, but she did not want to go alone. Hoping to get away from his wife for a little while longer, the man agreed to go with his daughter.

They walked along the path they had traveled together a year or so before when he had gone to the pub in the small town instead of selling wares on the street. The pair turned down the pebbled driveway to the castle, and for the first time, Charles got to take in the grandness of the place. It was a medium-sized, modest, yet still beautifully mysterious castle—fit for a gentleman’s or count’s status. And it was ancient, with vines creeping up around the sides. Obviously, Sir Claudius came from old money.

Athena pulled the door open and Charles was whisked away into another world, a land of total darkness and freezing temperatures. Like the arctic in its eternal winter. His daughter pulled him along through the land as he shivered, his arms wrapped around himself. She took him down a flight of stairs and down hallways until they reached what seemed to be the castle dungeons. Athena had been mostly straight-faced up until that point when her features began to sour and twist into a horrid expression of grief. But she pushed onward, opening the dungeon door and entering.

She seemed to be trudging through a mud swamp of pain while climbing down the final steps into the dungeon. 

Charles asked why she had taken him here, and she responded that she had come to see his life’s work. Claudius was a master of sculpting out of stone, and on his deathbed, he finished his magnum opus: a life-size dragon. 

Marveling at the great feat in front of him, Charles stepped forward, past Athena. He rubbed his hands all against the great stone dragon, feeling its realistic grooves and curves, its stony scales. The tail wrapped around the body, and the beast was in a position of slumber—its eyes closed peacefully. 

He asked his daughter if she could do anything quite like this, and Athena responded in the negative—arguing that she had never got far enough in her studies to even sculpt one small piece. Rather, she was more of a maid and a friend than an apprentice. Charles nodded at this information.

After gazing over the magnificent figure, Charles posed a question to his daughter: would Claudius have wanted his great work sold? Surely, he would have been fine with giving more money to support the family of his friend. 

But then, just when he had already begun to salivate at the thought of the fortune the sculpture would buy him, soft sounds came from the other end of the room. He looked over and found his daughter to be facing down at the floor, her shoulders falling and rising. She made quiet weeping sounds, with her hands covering her face. 

Suddenly, Charles realized his mistake and he jogged over to his daughter. He put an arm around her, consoling. 

Athena admitted that she wanted to keep the sculpture, because of how much it meant to her and Sir Claudius—and how she also wanted to use the remainder of the gold to refurbish the castle and its grounds. Charles winced and bit his tongue at the thought of all that good gold going to waste but… this was his prized jewel’s wish. He had already exploited her so much; at the very least, the rest of the gold could be for her own desires. 

The man’s wince transformed into a small smile; he closed his eyes, embraced his daughter, and kissed her upon the forehead. 

~❦︎~

Several months went by—one day bleeding into the next like a bright red sunrise that climbs up into the sky, transforms into yellow and then blue. 

Charles eventually spoke with his wife and apologized to her for keeping secrets and lying. She remained quiet and calm throughout his apology, but eventually talked, denoting that she had wanted a divorce, but decided to stay for the children. She then bowed her head and explained that she was sorry for being so cold, harsh, strict, and unforgiving for the last few years. 

The man jerked at the thought of divorce. He took hold of his wife’s hands and apologized once more. He then asked what he could do to alter his behaviors. The two decided that they should be equals when it came to the raising of their children. As Charles had promised years before, he would allow Isolde to teach him her native language of Gaelic. The man was hesitant to agree to this at first but soon gave in, realizing his wife staying meant more to him than the class structures between England and Ireland.

He then called the children into the room. Every one of them came except for Athena, who had seldom been out of her room since Sir Claudius’s passing. Charles asked Isolde to tell her tales she knew—something which had never been done before in the family. Typically, only Charles told tales of Greece and Rome, and even then, he hadn’t done that in a while.

Isolde told tales of the Irish past as well as mythical creatures, explaining how to live amongst them and respect them. She spoke as if she truly believed in the beasts, which Charles found strange—but it was intriguing nonetheless, and more importantly, the children enjoyed the tales. 

She explained, too, that these tales of the past help prepare for the future. Humanity cannot thrive without stories to help navigate them through life. 

At least that was one thing Charles and his wife could agree on. He leaned back in his chair, lit a cigar, and shut his eyes. The fireplace crackled as Isolde finished her story.

~❦︎~

Nearly one year after Sir Claudius’s passing, Isolde announced to her family that she was with child once again. It had been five or six years since the last one was born, the longest break between children the Everleighs ever had.

Mostly everyone in the family was content with their way of life. Charles adored his job in Dublin, Isolde was thrilled to be having another baby, the children were as happy as ever.

Only Athena seemed to be depressed still. Nothing made her happy—not the baby on the way, not agreeable suitors and beaux asking for her hand, nothing. The only times she rose out of her depression was when Monsieur Clermont completed another tapestry for Beochaoineadh Castle. Or when the local craftsmen of the town finished renovating and refurbishing the place. It did look significantly better—more welcoming. 

She seemed to spend almost every day there, overseeing new projects and gathering gold for the workers. Monsieur Clermont spent a hefty amount of time there and designed and outlined new fabrics and furniture.

As for the Frenchman’s business, it was going as well as it ever had. His partnering with Helena was one of the best business decisions ever made, in Charles’s opinion. She helped him with his conversational skills, building upon those Sir Claudius had given him. She also told all of her friends in Dublin and England to visit the shop, gathering customers as well as workers and other people in the fashion world. It also gave Margie a place in life besides shadowing in her mother’s footsteps, and Rubina something to do besides gawk at young men. 

And Charles didn’t have to worry about pesky visits over there at Helena’s townhouse in Dublin anymore, for he saw her weekly while on his way to work, waving at her in the window of the shop. Life seemed to be going perfectly well for him, the lines all connecting together like pieces of a puzzle. 

But Athena… She was the only thing he was still troubled over. It was not good for her, and he knew it, to be visiting Beochaoineadh Castle so often—seeing that sculpture and being in the home of her deceased friend so often. It was beginning to take a toll on her; her pretty skin and eyes sank into the back of her head, and her face drew up like an old witchy woman. A part of him wished he had never encouraged her to take a position at the castle so that he could suffer instead. It was hard to believe he was looking at the same girl—a woman now—as he had only three years before.

One day, she found the book Sir Claudius had gifted her on her sixteenth birthday, and that nearly killed her. She began to cry, and one could hear her wails all the way from the forest line. Charles feared that she would soon go mad, but kept hope that one day, a young suitor would come along who would alter her mind and world—just as Isolde had for him.

Notes:

As you may have noticed, the style is a little different in this chapter. This is the first (and only) chapter where the POV is entirely from Charles Everleigh, so I wanted the style to fit his personality and speech patterns in his head. This was interesting to write for me and a good exploration of prose/exposition, I think. Can't believe we only have two chapters and an epilogue left!

Chapter 54: Chapter XLIX - Making Oneself Up

Chapter Text

She waited for them to leave. Sauntering footsteps echoed in the hallways until finally the door shut and their sibilant whispers could no longer be heard. They left her with their whiteness.

The house was white; its grand walls were white; the noon sun was white; bringing a baby into the world was white; everyone she knew seemed to be in a state of white.

The vanity was white—the wood was supposed to be dark and earthy, but instead had been falsely painted white at her father’s request. And in the mirror of the vanity, there were reflections of her room all around. White canopy bed with silvery ghostlike drapes. White linens and white sunlight reflecting onto them. 

But her heart remained black.

She tried to catch a glimpse of herself, just one peek out of the corner of her eye. But she lurched back immediately. It wasn’t that she couldn’t stand seeing the black—the black of her veil and gown, or the black of her onyxes and earbobs, or the black of her deep pupils.

It was the parts of her that had once been white that she couldn’t stand.

Those dainty little hands that were once so pale and pretty with the faintest flush of pink now were covered in scabs and dead skin she didn’t care to wash off. Scars from scratching, and rough nail beds that had once been clean. He wouldn’t want to hold her hands now, would he? If he were alive? He wouldn’t want to hold her scaly hands that reminded him of his dragon form. 

And he wouldn’t want to see her starved form, skinny like a snake or lizard. He couldn’t bear to see her without her plump cheeks and full bust. They had deflated like a hot air balloon, revealing her bones and what meat she had left on them. 

But none of that would have mattered if her face had remained the same. If her eyes hadn’t sunken into the back of her skull, two little silvery-black buttons pressed into an old faded fabric. If her lips hadn’t lost their fullness and strawberry color and faded away until all that remained was a slit in her face. 

She looked like a poorly-made doll, one of those from her childhood of straw and pine, with little pebbled eyes and a slit-open mouth where stuffed hay fell out. She looked like that and not the china doll she had always been since birth. 

Even Henri’s masterful handiwork couldn’t salvage her. The dazzling onyxes, garnets, and emeralds encrusted into the bodice of the silk taffeta gown couldn’t bring their shine to her face. If anything, they only gathered more attention to her state due to the great juxtaposition.

She tugged at the black veil, draping it farther over her face, below her chin. Then she brought her hands around her snake-thin waist, feeling her ribcage and counting the bones. Pressing her chin into her chest palate, the woman murmured to herself in the hoarse voice of an old grandmother.

 

“She’s bound to become an old maid if she doesn’t take one of those suitor’s hands soon.”

“It’s not as if he were her husband—merely a friend, an employer. Her mourning period should have ceased months ago.”

“If only she would try on one of those new gowns Henri made for her. She won’t even look their way, and now her whole wardrobe is black.”

 

She lifted her head, her nostrils flared and her eyes drawn and her face gaunt. A cold, aloof gaze. She stared at herself through the veil, before tearing it off. The woman jutted out her chin and a cold, black fire formed in her eyes, like staring into the dark murky ocean waters in wintertime. She then placed her hands under her chin.

 

“You are not young, Ms. Everleigh. Since when have you been young? Young and rosy like the wildflowers that bloom in the fields? How many years has it been, Ms. Everleigh?” She scoffed but then, suddenly, a playful, childish gleam broke across her features, though it was still a woman’s face. “But what does it matter if I am not young? For I am still a lady at heart. I still have all the beauty and grace and charm I always have. Just because I am bound to become an old maid doesn’t mean that I am not a young lady at heart.” She pressed her skeletal fingers into her chest where her black heart lay. “Why, it’s still there. They act as if I’m dead. But don’t they see?” She pinched her cheeks, then clawed at them, scraping until a faint color of blood streamed across her face. “Don’t you see? I am still alive. I am still alive….” 

 

Like the sunrise at dawn, the girl rose out of her chair—slowly at first, still clinging on to the black and blue of night, before standing all the way up. Her mouth fell open and her jaw unhinged. Her eyes opened for the first time since Claudius’s passing—the beady buttons snapping to reveal shimmery river waters underneath. 

The woman reached her hand out, fumbling with the knob on one of the vanity’s dresser drawers. She pulled it out, revealing a small container Aunt Helena had given her. Taking the case out, she smelt of it, feeling the leather straps. It was dark red, burgundy. 

She unwound the leather straps then clicked and opened the case, laying it down on her vanity. Before her lay all sorts and combinations of paints and pastels. An entire case of *Rimmel cosmetics that had never even been opened. In the upper corners, rouge and lip paints and lipstick; at the bottom, Rimmel mascara, which she had never once applied in her life. An eye beauty pencil, liquid makeup, pearl powder, creams, and ointments.

The woman slid her shaky hand, grasping onto the white, creamy pastes. Untwisting the cap, she took a whiff then felt the cold cream on her fingers. It smelled like roses. She vigorously smeared the cold cream all across her cheeks and chin and nose and forehead, like a child smearing mud all over herself for the first time. She caked herself in it, before dabbing powder over the cream. A glossy sheen lay across her face. 

After putting the cold cream and powder back into the case, she took hold of the rouge. The woman coated her cheeks with it, rubbing it all into the sides of her face. It altered her face shape, making her high cheekbones disappear. The look was similar to that from her girlhood when her cheeks had been beautiful and plump. But this appearance came with the gauntness that womanhood brings. The cosmetics did not return her to a former state of girlhood, but rather something new was created.

She had never applied Rimmel mascara or eye beauty pencil before but remembered seeing advertisements in windows outside of Henri’s shop, of women with silvery-clear skin and big bright eyes using them. She brought the tip of the pencil up to her eyebrow and streaked a big dark line all across her forehead, where she wanted the new eyebrow to be. After she had two new eyebrows, the woman picked up the Rimmel mascara. Shakily, she brushed a stroke through her light brown lashes, almost stabbing herself in the eye with the thick black bristles. Her breath quickened as she saw something—someone else taking shape. 

She almost looked like her Aunt Helena with cosmetics, but her face wasn’t full and round like her aunt’s. A part of her also felt as though she looked like a woman of the night but her gown and jewels told a different story.

Then who was she? If not a girl, if not the melancholic figure she had come to know, if not her Aunt Helena or a woman of the night… then who was she?

She put the Rimmel mascara back into its spot in the case, then saw the lipstick. Her eyes ran over its sleek design and she reached out a slender figure to touch it. Pulling it out of the case, the woman “humphed” then laughed. 

“It doesn’t matter whether or not the rose is fake, at least it’s still a rose.”

She twirled the stick around in her hand before taking the cap off and swirling it all over her lips, leaving a deep red stain. The woman puckered her lips and made a kissing noise in the mirror.

“You’re so lovely, Ms. Everleigh,” she spoke through smiling teeth in a high-pitched voice. “Why, you could most certainly dance with every gentleman at the ball tonight if only you weren’t wearing that nasty black dress!”

Her nose pinched together and the two black lines on her forehead drew nearer together. “Well, we will just have to see about that.”

Waltzing over to her bright white wardrobe, she opened one of the drawers and pulled out a freshly-made gown. She hadn’t even looked at the thing. It was dropped off in a carriage only the day before, wrapped up in crinkly paper. Someone—her mother likely—laid it in the dresser drawer. 

The woman pulled it out, pinching the fabric at the shoulders of the gown, and whipped it about her room, dancing with it as though it were one of those gentlemen at the ball.

“Now, shall we get ready?” she spoke, facing the mirror, with the gown draped over her body.

It was made of pale silver and blush-colored chiffon, with white lace at the top covering the collarbones and upper chest. Around the mid-waist, a drapery of darker, blush-colored wild roses made of chiffon fell across the gown, in a spiraling fashion about the waist and bust. 

“How could I have ever missed such a positively perfect gown?” the woman called, her soft Dublin accent leaving her and being replaced with a posh English one. 

She took off her dark jewelry and other accessories before pulling the garment off over her head. It fell to the floor in bustles. The girl tightened her corset slightly in the waist and then loosened it in the bust so that what hips she had left would flare out. Then she stepped one foot into the silver and blush gown, pulling it up to her shoulders. She spread the lace out over her collarbones. 

The gown fit her perfectly, and in the mirror, she didn’t look starved or snakelike—but rather, like those silvery ladies in the advertisements with their waists cinched. 

“Oh, Henri, you’re wonderful,” she called, clasping her hands together. He had even made lace gloves to fit over her hands, covering up the scabs and scars. She raced over to the drawer to fish them out and slipped them on. 

In the corner of the room, a white pair of shoes with a dainty little heel winked at her. Walking over, she slipped her feet into them and pranced about the room, listening to the clickety clacks against the floor.

She fixed her hair, teasing it up, and then laying a little, round hat on top of her head. The woman admired herself in the mirror and brushed away loose dust on the hat. But then she gasped: “Oh, I almost forgot!” and reached into a jewelry box. Out came two little earbobs with roses dangling off of the end. She put them on and stood still in front of the mirror.

Everything was so glossy and shiny. It almost didn’t look real. Like in the morning, out on the docks, when the color of the world is pink and silver and mists hang around the boats in the harbor, and the sun’s rays create ripples upon the ocean. Bright white ripples that aren’t really real the closer you get, that fade when you try to touch them. It’s just an illusion, the sun’s tricks.

So she was just an illusion, a ripple in space, a ripple in the sky, in the air. Something made up, a story. 

The longer she looked, the longer she longed to be real. She wanted the realness that came with love again. 

And when she began to think of love, her eyebrows lifted. The dark, thick black lashes tried to hold back the tears. She breathed in, squeezing her eyes together, clasping onto her new gown and ruffling it. Her neck tensed. 

Then it streaked down across her face—a droplet making its way down her cheeks, breaking through the dam of mascara and flooding into the pearl powdery land below. 

~❦︎~

She took one of her father’s white mares, riding sidesaddle to the castle. While on the way through the forest, she reached her hand out to the leaves and touched them, feeling their greenness. 

They came upon the break in the woods, leading to the fields. Stalks of soft white wheat twirled in the wind, and wildflowers bloomed in-between them—most of them were small, but they were multi-colored and had varied shapes within themselves.

The mare’s hooves clonked down the pebbled driveway. Athena had ordered they lay an entirely fresh batch, and so these pebbles were softer and more brightly colored than the dull gray, moss-covered ones of before. 

She stepped down off of the mare and tied her reins to a newly-planted post in front of the castle doors.

Everything had been cleaned. The door handle had been polished and gleamed gold. The sides of the castle had been stripped of their dirty top layer, and even a few stones had been replaced, to reveal a silvery-gray masterpiece. 

It shone in the sun, glimmering gloriously. The tip-tops sparkled, little explosions taking place on the rooftop. 

Not a single day had passed that the woman did not visit. Even with it being completely refurbished and cleaned, she made plans to come by each day.

Entering Beochaoineadh Castle, the lady took a breath of the air. It wasn’t the same. It didn’t have that musky scent to it—something ancient had been lost in the cleaning process. The curtains that hung from the windows at the top of the castle were see-through now, allowing more light to filter in. She could see the entire way to the Grand Hall and fireplace. 

Of course, all of the stains, claw marks, and burn marks had been removed and polished away to reveal grand stones. But beyond that, the Grand Hall had been reimagined with a vision of the trends of the new century, while pieces of the late century were left in the details. It adorned new accessories and amenities, such as lights and lamps instead of torches. But dreams of days gone by still remained in some places—for instance, the original molding and detailing remained on the fireplace. 

The woman wanted it to be liveable but still retain its sophistication and style. She nodded her head, pleased with the look of the castle.

Instead of taking a seat in her chair—the mistress’s chair—she made headway to the lower quarters of the castle. Walking by, she noticed the servant’s quarters and supply closet where her tools from years before still remained. She would never have to touch them again, for soon, she would hire servants of her own to maintain the castle’s grand, gleaming state.

She went deeper and farther into the belly of the castle, which had been left mostly untouched. Of course, they had been cleaned and lights adorned the sides of the hall, but the cobblestone remained. It was just as simple and plain and eerie as it had ever been. Like stepping back into the Dark Ages, but with a lamp to guide oneself instead of a torch. 

Swinging the dungeon door open, she plodded down the stone steps, her dress rustling behind her. Her head faced the far side of the dungeon, where Claudius’s stone figure laid.

“Hello, dear,” she cooed, walking up to him. "I've got some good news. I've officially decided to become the mistress of this castle. I'm going to move out of my father's home and live here. I'll be hiring my own servants and all. Isn't that wonderful?"

She smiled, her cheeks pinching together, leaning into the silence.

"I haven't told my family as of yet, but I'm sure once I reveal it to them, they will be happy for me. Happy to know I'm not wasting away anymore."

Again, silence.

"I know I look very different today than I have in the past.” She sighed. “You haven’t seen my face in a while, I know. I’ve been wearing that dreadful veil for so long.” Lifting her hat up, she looked into Claudius’s stone eyes. “I hope you do not mind the makeup. At least I look better now than I did. Perhaps I will continue to wear it.” She twirled around. “Oh, but look at this new dress Henri made me! Isn’t it just lovely? I believe it’s my favorite piece he’s ever accomplished.” 

The woman twisted and turned for the stone figure. Her smile broke across her face as she thought of how lovely she was, and how Claudius must just adore her. A part of her felt like a child twirling in the falling leaves of autumnal. 

But, as it always does, winter arrived. And the woman was reminded of the icy stone figure in front of her, and reminded, too, that beneath the layers of makeup there was still an old maid.

An old maid.

“Oh!” She collapsed to the floor, her hair falling out of its do and draining across the ground. Her chest heaved up and down, in spastic motions as she wailed and wailed, screaming into the stone. She kicked the white shoes off then beat the balls of her feet into the ground. “An old maid. An old maid. An old maid.”

She was never to be loved again, never to dance at parties again, never to be kissed again, never to be told she was beautiful again, never to be wed and make love as she had always dreamt of, never to be the mistress of a castle with her master beside her as she had always dreamt of, never to write poems and read books and venture into the gardens and listen to records and stroll into the forest and transform into Milly and….

The woman lifted her head from the stones. Her pupils dilated in and out of focus, as she slowly turned her head to face the stone figure.

She picked herself up and marched straight over to him. Pointing a finger at him, she screeched in her Dublin accent this time: “This is all your fault! I’m an old maid because of you.”

Throwing her arms up in the air and twisted on her heels, she growled. “You were the one who could have changed! You could have mated with Heart of the Flame willingly, which I had no issue with!” Crossing her arms, she huffed. “You were the one who turned me into this! How could you have been so selfish? I had my entire life in front of me, and you twisted me into loving you and caring for you and you knew you would die the whole time. You knew that you would die and I would suffer.” She pivoted on her heels again, her blue flame eyes boring into his, melting the stone. “You weren’t a monster because you were a dragon. You were a monster because you corrupted me. You manipulated me and used your selfish trickery to make me believe that I was a part of you. That I was whatever you wanted me to be.”

She fumbled with her fingers, pinching them and digging into the lace gloves. “For so long—years—I devoted myself to you. I gave myself up for you. I should have just listened to Ma and stayed home and taken care of my brothers and sisters, instead of fulfilling father’s greed and falling for your manipulation.” Her lips twisted and curled into a snarl. But then the look fell and her face became drawn and gaunt and numb and lifeless. “But I suppose I also fed that girl’s curiosity. She wanted…” her eyebrows kneaded together and she winced, “she wanted to know and understand a life different from her own. She was so eager to learn and understand all you set before her.” The woman shook her head, staring up at the ceiling, her mouth open as she gasped through rising tears. A knot tied in her throat. “Oh, it’s my fault, too.” She hunched her shoulders and brought her fist to her eyes, covering them. “My fault for being so naïve and disobedient, for being so young and immature, for thinking that… love could somehow save you. Oh, perhaps it wasn’t your fault at all, but mine.” Her ribcage caved in on itself as she knelt down to the floor once more.

“What a fool I was. A blasted fool,” she spat. “To think that your life somehow could be saved if only I loved you enough. I fought for your life like it were me own. At points, it felt like it were. It felt… like you and I were one and the same. Like we were two trees that had grown beside each other and twisted ‘round one another. That’s what it felt like. And I ‘spose that’s a lovely thing, but what does one tree do when the other rots? What… what am I supposed to do, Claudius? What am I meant to do with myself?” 

She rubbed her eyes and the black flecks of mascara came off on her palm and knuckles. A reminder that it was all a façade. 

The woman licked her lips, tasting the redness, then a small smile came across her face. Small and sad, but a smile nonetheless. 

“It seems as though I’ve forgotten who I am. And I seem to have forgotten that you are dead and gone, too. You are… not here to tell me who I am or tell me that I am loved or that I am beautiful.” She laughed through choking tears. “You are no more. And I— I don’t know what to do about that. Because for so long, you were all I relied upon.” Her lips stiffened and went numb. She felt her face falling off. The smile washed away.

“I… I can’t do this anymore,” she wept, bearing her face in her hands. She was still on her knees in front of him, almost praying. “I can’t live like I’m dead. I can’t live life like I’ve died, Claudius, I can’t,” she pleaded. “Please don’t be upset with me….” She reached out for his stone claws, grasping onto them and pulling herself forward. “Please don’t be upset with me for what I must do,” she sobbed, her chest beating into his arm. 

The woman clung to him tightly, feeling the stony scales. She rubbed her fingers up and down them. 

“I have to let go…” she whispered, her steamy breath bouncing off of the stone. She closed her eyes so tightly and clenched onto him so tightly, but he could never hold her back.

Slowly, muscle by muscle, she loosened her grip on the stone. “I have to say goodbye, Claudius. I can’t keep coming here every day and I can't become the mistress of the castle. Oh... I can’t… die every day like I have been. I’ll still send the servants for you, and I’ll make sure there are workers to keep the grounds clean, but I can't be here myself. Your library is all in order and your journals and letters are all safe and tucked away where no one will ever be able to find them.”

Athena turned away from him, wobbling onto her feet. The ground felt like water beneath her. 

“Perhaps I’ll visit someday when I’m stronger but— For now, I must say goodbye.”

She caught one last glimpse of him and noticed his stony eyes were closed in the slumber that would last for all time. Even centuries later, when the castle would inevitably fall, and vines and wildflowers would grow all around, his eyes would still be closed.

It was the hope that somehow he would survive, live, come back to life that tortured her so. Hope had murdered her—turned her into an old maid. Hope, not death, had turned her heart black.

Athena’s eyes lifted, and she pondered for a moment, before speaking, “You know, I thought for so long that you would somehow come back to life—like in all of the stories I read as a little girl. I thought that, perhaps, a true love’s kiss would save you.” She smiled through the tears. “With you, my life was a fairytale. But now I realize…” her smile shifted into an expression of wonder and deep thought, “my life has always been a fairy tale. With or without you.”

Athena picked herself up, brushing off the dress, standing, and smelling the clean air. “When I transform into Milly…” she shook her head, her eyes glowing, “I always look the same. I’ll always be the same. I don’t have to worry about what other people think, or if I’m to become an old maid. I don’t even have to worry about love. I can just… bask in the sun.”

Lifting her arms out as though she were about to fly, Athena shed another tear. But this tear was white, not black.

“You wanted me so badly to be human, Claudius. You wanted me to always be human, and the truth is, I can never be fully human. I don’t want to be.”

Winds broke in through the windows of the castle.

“A part of me will always be untamed, an animal, a wild rose. Perhaps… that’s who I am. Who I’ve always been.” She looked back at him. “I always dreamt we could balance our time together. Wild beasts half the time, and the other half, man and woman. That was always my dream. But… you never wanted to share that part of yourself with me, no matter how I longed for it. I wanted a balance between two worlds; you wanted only one. I never understood that until now.”

Athena sighed, turning away from him once more. “Thank you, Claudius,” she said, “for listening when no one else would.”

She unclenched her jaw and stood in the faint sunlight echoing in through the chamber windows. She rocked on her heels. A small puddle lay at her feet, and she glanced down into it. The water of the puddle rippled, revealing someone new and yet someone she had always known. Wiping away the tear stains, Athena found herself once again. Most of the makeup had actually stayed on, even if it had faded slightly. This look suited her.

“Goodbye, Claudius. Goodbye.”

~❦︎~❦︎~

*Rimmel - Rimmel is a British cosmetics brand, now owned by Coty, Inc. The House of Rimmel was founded by Eugène Rimmel as a perfumery in 1834, in Regent Street, London, England. Within a year of opening, Eugène Rimmel came to create many makeup products, including his best known, mascara.

Chapter 55: Chapter L - Oh, How She's Bloomed

Chapter Text

Athena turned off the lights as she went back through the castle. Everything was in its place, everything was as it should be.

She stood in front of the doorway and peered into the Grand Hall. Near the fireplace, in the master’s chair, she thought she saw the outline of a man. One knee was crossed over the other, and his face was focused on the book in his hands. 

Stretching her neck, the woman tried to catch a glimpse of this apparition. But when she looked again, he was gone. Her eyes sank, then so did the rest of her body. 

She turned around and opened the tall, heavy doors. Light filtered into the dark castle, streaming into her face. Squinting, she caught sight of her father’s mare. 

“Let’s go home, girl,” she said, untying the reins from the post and leading the mare to the end of the driveway. Athena’s feet wobbled on the ground, for she was too weak to walk properly. 

The mare nudged her along, helping her stay steady.

“I know, I know. I’ll be alright. Don’t worry about me.”

At the end of the driveway, Athena put the reins over the horse’s neck. She took hold of the saddle and tried to lift herself up, but couldn’t muster the strength to finish the job. Her pretty white shoes hit the ground. She sighed.

Suddenly, a long, whooping holler broke out against the trees. 

The mare’s ears turned to face the sound. Athena’s eyes followed.

It was the shadow of a tall man. He took broad steps out of the forest. 

Athena reached back, taking hold of the saddle.

He called out: “Need help there, lass?” His voice was big and booming, echoing all across the fields and open spaces. It bounced across the castle and reverberated back to her.

The woman took a breath but fumbled with her words: “N-no, thank you, kind sir,” she stammered in a whisper tone. She faced the saddle, holding onto it for dear life. 

The mare snorted, trying to figure out what this strange man’s intentions were.

His steps grew louder and louder as he closed in on Athena. The pebbles shifted under his weight. Athena could almost feel his hot breath on the back of her neck.

“Hello, miss,” he said, his voice kind and dear. There was a low rumble in his throat as he spoke, but at the same time, his words were so dark and smooth and articulate. Like fine red wine.

“Good day, sir,” Athena replied, her eyes glued to the saddle.

“Do you need any assistance?” His feet shuffled in the ground behind her, and she heard his hands rustling into his pockets.

“No, thank you. I can manage,” she whispered. Her fingers shivered as they moved up to take hold of the reins. She fit her foot in the stirrup and pulled herself up, but her muscles failed her. She held the position for a moment, her legs and arms shaking, before landing on the ground again. 

“Here, miss. Let me help.” 

Soft, unmarred hands, like a baby’s—although a rather large baby—, slid into her palm. She felt his warmth and sweat through the lace gloves. 

Squeezing her fingers gently, the man help her again to reach the saddle. She stood up in the stirrup while he pushed her hand, using his immense yet gentle strength to guide her into the saddle. Upon sitting, she patted her dress down. The mare whinnied and the woman took hold of the reins, ready to ride off.

“Thank you, sir,” she said, not daring to look at this stranger.

“Of course, Miss Everleigh.”

Athena whipped her face around, her eyes boring into his features like a cat’s sharp huntress gaze. 

The man’s coloring was rich and vibrant—neither ruddy nor pale nor tan, but a fair, lovely tone with a note of deep pink. He was clean-shaven with a strong jaw and prominent features. His hair was tidy and well-taken-care-of, pushed back, like the men in London. And his clothes reminded her of her father’s, but instead of a white suit, it was black—a dark, dark black just like the man’s slick hair. A tiny red rose rested in his suit pocket.

“Who are you?” she asked, her eyes racing up and down his body.

He took a breath, but before he could even get a word out, Athena discovered his eyes.

And in his eyes, she found home. Blue, the color of what lies beyond the earth, the color of the atmosphere, of space and mists, and the heavens and the land of spirits. The color of words and abstract language and thought and emotion. Blue.

“Is it... really you?” 

Claudius laughed his booming, hearty laugh, and his barrel chest rose and fell. “It’s really me, my love, it’s really me.” He clasped his hands around hers.

Athena’s mouth hung agape. Her face and eyes flitted between emotions. Tears welled up in her eyes. She pulled away from him, in shock. “But… how?” she cried.

“Oh, Athena, you did it! I wasn’t sure if you ever would, but you did!” he said, joy spreading across his face, which wasn’t scruffy and scaly anymore, but soft and… manlike.

“I did… what?” she asked, almost falling off of the mare as she leaned back.

“Athena,” he spoke, reaching out for her wavy curls, and petting them, “when I died, my father made a deal with me.” 

The woman’s eyes widened. She shivered as he touched her. What if it was another apparition or a spirit?

“What do you mean? What kinda deal?” She gasped. “Y-your father?”

He smiled, and his teeth reflected in the sunlight. His fangs were gone and his lips were pink, not purple and blue. “My father visited me in the spirit realm—he has the ability to do that as an Elder and Patriarch—and he made a deal with me, or rather, he cast another spell upon me.” Claudius drew nearer to her. “I realized that you needed to grow into a woman on your own before I returned. I know that must sound cruel of me, but there can never be any spells or enchantments of any kind without stipulations or ways to break them. Oh, Athena, I wanted to be with you, but I had to wait.” 

He reached his hand out to cup her cheek, but she pulled away from him. A hurt look spread across his face. “What’s wrong, my love?” he asked.

Athena’s head dipped, but her mouth was still wide open. She stared at the ground for a few moments, emotionless, expressionless. But eventually, the woman picked her head back up and looked into the man’s eyes. 

“It is hard for me to believe that this is you.” She winced. “You died, Claudius, and I mourned for you and grieved and hardly survived without you. It still feels like you’re dead.” The woman rubbed her arms. “I- I’m sorry.”

“No, no, Athena, don’t be sorry….” He backed away from the mare, looking at the ground, and rubbed the back of his neck. “The truth is, I was afraid this would happen.”

“Why?” she asked, lifting her brows.

“Well, in the Spirit Realm… Oh, whenever you came to the castle during the day, I would wait for you and listen to everything you said. I saw everything you did.”

Suddenly, Athena’s eyes lifted and a wave of relief washed over her features. “So, all those times when I saw you, it wasn’t just an apparition?”

He smiled a warm smile. “I don’t believe so.”

“Oh, thank goodness,” she cried. “I was so afraid I was going mad.” She placed a palm against her forehead and took several deep breaths in. “What a relief!”

Claudius grinned, and for the first time, she saw he had dimples. His beard had always covered them. “Oh, Athena, I know it must have seemed this way but… I never left you. I was always there with you. I know you said that it was my fault, and in some ways, it was—”

“You heard that, huh?” she asked, her shoulders drooping.

“I did but… I believe that you are right,” he replied looking into her eyes and nodding his head.

“About it bein’ your fault?”

“Well, not… necessarily that but—” He sighed then cleared his throat. “About being naïve and young. We were both too eager to love and be loved, Athena,” he said, calmly, slowly. “You gave up your love for me which is a beautiful, wonderful thing to do but… you hadn’t even found yourself and so you gave all you had and nothing was left.” 

He reached out for her hand again, and this time, she took it. They both stared into one another’s eyes—she from on top of the saddle and him from the ground below.

“Athena, I don’t want you to feel meaningless—worthless—without me. Because you are not. And I’m so proud,” he patted her hand, “so proud of you for discovering your worth.” The man dropped his head. “I should have known, as old as I am, that what I was doing to you, such a young child, was unfair. I shouldn’t have allowed such a relationship to flourish when you were so young and impressionable. That is entirely my fault,” he apologized, letting her hands fall. “I hope you can forgive me.”

The woman paused, watching while his feet shifted in the ground and he rocked back and forth, his hands behind his back. The top of his head reflected the bright sunlight. 

“Oh, Claudius, it’s alright. Of course, I forgive you.” 

Claudius lifted his head to find the woman smiling brightly. He smiled back at her and said: “You gave me a chance to live the way I have always dreamt of. You don’t know how much this means to me. I want… Oh, there are so many things I want to do!” He looked off into the distance, grinning like a fool. “Go to late-night balls, spend the night somewhere that is not the castle, stargaze and articulate which constellations are which—” 

“Wait,” Athena cut him off. “Stargaze? Do you mean that… you are not a dragon anymore?”

Claudius’s body rose, and his lips tilted upward as far as they could possibly go. “Another part of the deal,” he said, breathing in and out, unable to contain his joy. “I’m… a man.

Athena at first had her mouth hanging wide open and her eyes bugged out, but soon she giggled and kicked her feet just like a child. “Oh, Claudius! Really? Truly?”

“Yes, my dear, I could hardly believe it at first either!” Sighing, he turned his face once again to Athena, and his cheeks turned a deep red. “I hope that we can begin again, my dear. I want to give you everything a man possibly can,” he said. “But, I understand if perhaps you do not want to romance one another as we once did, and if you need time to decide, I completely understand. It is perfectly understandable that—”

Athena cut him off before he could stammer himself into a stupor: “Claudius, thank you. You have always been so kind and understanding,” she said. Her eyes turned plaintive. “I wish I could say that we can pick up things where we left off but… I can’t.” 

Nodding his head, the man blinked a few times before facing the ground.

“I still love you, Claudius,” she said, and he perked up a bit. “But I’ve… got to do things for meself before I can do things for the both of us.” The woman laid a hand on his shoulder, reassuring him.

The man lifted his head, sniffling as tears welled up in his eyes. “I completely agree.”

Athena tilted her head to the side, grinning, before reaching a hand out to him and wiping his eyes. Her hand eventually went down the side of his smooth cheek. “I can’t believe you shaved.”

He cracked a laugh, dipping his head, before declaring: “And I can’t believe you’re wearing makeup.”

Suddenly, the woman’s face flushed and she reared back. “Oh, I forgot! I- I- Oh, is it too much? I know I don’t look anything like I used to, Claudius….”

“Athena, Athena,” he cooed, calming her down. “You look more like yourself now than ever before.”

She quirked an eyebrow. “You really think so?”

“I do, yes. The makeup suits you, and so do the colors and flowers of this dress. You look like a lady.” He grinned, his teeth poking out from beneath his lips. 

“Oh, Lord, you don’t really mean that,” she teased. “I’ve looked so horrid!”

Claudius shook his head and smiled a wise old smile. “You know, someone once told me that clothes and fashion are just an expression—a manifestation—of who we are and how we feel. And, I must say, it was so wonderful today to see you not wearing black, to not be covering your face with a veil anymore. That’s how I knew, it was time. You had found yourself after so much grief. I know that you wish you could probably look like you once did, but that is not possible, my dear. You can only move onward from here.”

Athena’s face softened, then she giggled. “I thought you didn’t agree with Henri's sentiment.”

“I didn’t,” he declared. “But I understand what he meant now. After all,” he rubbed his hand across the new suit, “I never took a chance with what to wear or what I should look like. Do you think this suits me?” He held his arms out and turned around, his heels clunking into the ground.

Athena giggled again, her hand covering her mouth. “Oh, it is quite different but— I do think it suits you. It will take some getting used to on my end, however.”

They both laughed for a time, before the whipping wind and the nearby waves beating into the cliffs below were the only things to be heard. Everything was serene and right in the world—the sky so blue, the trees so green, the castle so silvery and shimmery. Not a cloud in the sky, nor another person in sight. 

“I’ve missed you, Claudius,” Athena admitted, sliding carefully off of the mare. “Even if your spirit was with me then, it’s wonderful to be with you here and now, body and soul. I forgot what that felt like.”

The man backed a few steps away. The woman was still so small and slight in front of him, just as she had always been. “Yes, it is—” he cleared his throat, “so nice to, finally, be able to express things to you. Not hidden behind a wall.” He did not want to take things too far, too fast. The last thing he wanted was to take the wrong path, make another mistake, everything be his fault all over again.

But suddenly, the woman took a few steps forward. Claudius lifted his eyebrows. She flung her arms around him, hugging his midriff and leaning into his chest before he could step away. 

The woman revealed: “My mind didn’t want to believe it was really you… and I still need time to— process all of this. But, Claudius, oh Claudius,” she cried. “At least now I know you’re real.” She squeezed his waist, nuzzling into him, smelling that forestry pine scent. Hearing his heartbeat. 

Claudius’s slight apprehension melted away. “Yes, Athena,” he said, petting the top of her head, “I am real.”

~❦︎~

The final few customers of the evening shuffled out of the shop. Henri Clermont bid them all well as the evening sun drifted below the Dublin skyline. Workers popped in and out of dressing rooms, retiring their uniforms and changing into everyday wear. 

“So long!”

“Good day!”

“Farewell!”

Henri waved goodbye but soon returned to his new sketchbook after each call to him. Margie and Rubina were always the last out the door, and he always made it a point to speak directly to them about what they were doing well with and what could be improved regarding the way they handled business.

Soon, the two young women made headway out of the shop, and the bell jingled for what he presumed would be the final time that day. 

Reds, purples, and oranges from the evening sun bled into the room, turning his sketchbook a fiery gold. But he continued to draw anyway. It was a new suit, black with gold trim. Elegant and sleek.

Some thirty minutes passed when, out of nowhere, the doorbell chimed again. Henri remained focused on his work, but still called out: “My apologies, but we are closed.”

“Ah, forgive me,” a man’s voice rang. “But I saw the hiring sign in the window, and thought I could be of service.”

Henri paused to think. He frowned and knitted his eyebrows together, but soon laid his sketchbook down. “Alright, monsieur,” he spoke, frustrated at having to leave his work. “What position are you interested in? Currently, I am looking for someone to—”

The Frenchman lifted his eyes. A man stood in the doorway, covered in the color of dusk. He had a meek, sheepish grin on his face. And a new suit—practically just off the shelves in London—adorned his tall frame.

Henri squinted, piecing together who this was. “We have met before, no?”

The man in the doorway took off his hat and bowed deeply. “It’s been a while, my friend.”

Stepping back, Henri ran into the wood booth behind him. His eyes widened as he clutched onto the wood, digging his nails into it. “Cl-Claudius? But how did you survive?!”

Claudius shook his head. “I died, old friend. But my father’s spell brought me back to life. Thanks to him, and Athena, I am here.” He opened up his arms and gestured to the shop.

Henri ran his hands through his hair. “I don’t understand….”

Taking a few steps forward, Claudius made his way through the shop, straight to Henri. “Come, let’s sit down and I’ll explain it to you.” He smiled, patting his friend on the back.

Henri gasped at the tall man in front of him; he stood nearly a foot higher. He looked into Claudius’s eyes, and there found the truth. “I can’t believe it. It’s really you! Mon Dieu… mon Dieu….” The Frenchman palmed his forehead and nearly fell against the booth behind him before catching himself.

“Aye, so it is,” Claudius said, taking a seat on top of one of the tables next to Henri. “So, tell me again: What jobs are available?”

Henri turned to face Claudius, his mouth hanging wide open. But soon his face changed into a grin and then a large belly laugh came out of him. “With you, mon ami,” he said, “and your great talents, you can have any job in the world you could possibly want.” He leaned back, still grasping onto his head, laughing hysterically as he took it all in.

Again, Claudius patted him on the back and laughed alongside him. “Ah, I most certainly could. But why work for anyone, when I could work for the famous Monsieur Clermont!”

Henri scoffed jokingly, rolling his eyes. “You and your words. Making things seem greater than they really are.”

“Then won’t I make a fine salesman?” he asked, spreading his arms out wide and grinning through gritted teeth.

Henri couldn’t help but smile at his old friend’s foolishness. He crossed his arms. “We shall see. You will be hired, but only if…” the Frenchman arched one his brows, “you tell me exactly how you came to be alive after death.”

Claudius’s laughter echoed throughout the room, before giving his long, great speech: “Well, first of all, I must tell you about my old clan and my father. You’ve never heard anything about him, haven’t you? Well, everhow, the dragon clan I was born into had one Patriarch and one Matriarch. My father just so happened to be the Patriarch and ....”

Henri leaned against the old wooden booth, held his hand under one chin, and listened to the story and the winds from the outside as they blew.

~❦︎~

Midnight crept upon the old, worn-down pub. Whiskey splashed against the walls at this hour, and horrid sounds blurted out of the out-of-tune piano. 

But for Mrs. O’Dair, this hour was bliss. This was when most of her work got done, even in the chaos of drunken men rumbling and telling their fishing tales of the day and havoc. Somehow, the ruckus calmed her spirit in a way. For, when she was by herself during quieter hours of the day, there were so many small inconveniences to be distracted by. One glass shard from a broken whiskey bottle in the middle of the floor, or two dead rats in the hallway, or three drunkards wreaking havoc at the bar. Well, at midnight, the inconveniences turned into the norm. And here, she could just do her job without being distracted by all of the little things, because there weren’t any little things to worry over. 

She swept, humming to the tune of the old piano. She slipped a tiny bit in a puddle of whiskey, but immediately picked herself back up, drumming along with the chorus of the night. And, although no one knew, she might have been the slightest bit tipsy herself.

The plump woman swept until she reached the cellar, where those beady red rat eyes popped up at her, watching her every move. 

“Jus’ you wait until we get ourselves another cat, ya hear me?!” she screeched at the creatures.

But then, out of nowhere, what felt like feathers—no, fur—brushed up against the bottom of her dress. A sleek gray cat nuzzled into the hem.

“Why, I don’t believe me own eyes!” she shouted. “It—It’s Milly! Oh, Milly!” Mrs. O’Dair dropped the broom and jumped for joy. “Ah, I thought ye ole girl had surely perished! You sneaky little varmint, you,” she teased, waving her finger at the cat. “Where have you been all these years? Off findin’ those toms, I ‘spose? Ah, well, back to work fer ya!” She directed the cat toward the cellar. “They’re all yours, lass! Lord knows we’ve needed you here. I wisht you’d come sooner!”

Mrs. O’Dair shut the door, and soon the lovely squaller and squeals of rats’ last dying breaths could be heard. Sweet music to the old woman’s ears.

She thought to herself how much Milly had grown. After all, four or five years for a cat was a long time, the woman imagined. Unless, of course, you counted their extra lives. But, even so, Milly was nothing like the scrawny kitten of yesteryear. Her coat now was so silky and silvery, and her eyes so glittery and blue—just like the oceans or the sky or the moon. The little kitten had certainly blossomed into a queen. Like the wild roses on the hill above the roaring waves of the seashore. Oh, how they bloomed in the springtime. 

~❦︎~❦︎~

End of Part V - A Man Reborn

Chapter 56: Epilogue

Chapter Text

Athena Everleigh sometimes accorded with the social graces of her father’s family in Dublin, whenever she visited them of course. But upon arriving home, she almost immediately transformed into Milly and went on long walks with her mother in the forest. 

But in Dublin, she spent hours upon hours in Monsieur Clermont’s blooming and buzzing shop, being fitted for new gowns and visiting with her friends and family. Of course, Margie and Rubina were always there—and Aunt Helana sometimes made her way into the store to see how business was coming along. But Athena mainly stayed to be with Sir Claudius and Monsieur Clermont. 

During the day, Claudius advertised the store to folks on the street, but in the evening, after the shop’s closing, they would all sit around the table and play cards and drink, or perhaps go to one of the local restaurants. 

Sir Claudius always saw Athena home in his new, elaborate carriage he bought, and dropped her off at her mansion before he returned to Beochaoineadh Castle. 

The first time Mr. Charles Everleigh noticed this man with his daughter, he inquired who exactly he was. Athena wrapped her arm tentatively around Claudius, but he assured her everything was fine with a pat of the hand. The man stepped up and announced himself as Sir Claudius II, the son of the late Sir Claudius. He had been away traveling the world, as young men often do, and did not know his father had passed until he arrived home. Upon entering the castle, he discovered that a will had been left for him in one of his father’s compartments, and he had indeed inherited the castle, all of his father’s belongings, and gold. 

Charles was skeptical at first, but after sitting and having drinks with the man, he realized just how well-meaning, gentlemanly, and articulate he was. Charles also happened to realize how often his daughter and Sir Claudius glanced at one another.

Although at first, Sir Claudius and Athena did not spend much time together, over the course of a year, their interviews with one another lengthened, and, eventually, she was spending most of her days with him either in town or at the castle. 

One day, Claudius rode up to the Everleigh’s mansion and humbly proclaimed his affection for Charles’s daughter. Mr. Everleigh was not in the least bit surprised, as he had noticed a fancy between the two. And he was perfectly happy for Athena to be marrying into old money, so he agreed to it and blessed their engagement.

After months of planning, the two were married in the small cathedral on the cliffs. Oceans roared and it rained softly the day they were wed. 

Henri created the most beautiful gown for Athena, with tiny cream-colored tulips all over it. Claudius was also given a hand-tailored suit that fit him perfectly.

All of the children came, even the new child. Isolde glowed as she had in her youth, glowed like the sun gleaming through the trees in the green forest. She held her newborn while she watched her firstborn be handed off in marriage. For the first time, she truly trusted Sir Claudius as well as her husband and smiled as Charles handed their daughter off to Claudius.

Aunt Helena, Margie, Rubina, and Henri all came. And so did half of the small coastal town who was quite the lively bunch—this contrasted with the more subdued party of Dublin.

And in the far back of the cathedral, a pale woman with bright blue eyes, wearing rags—whatever she could find, most likely—sat. As Athena and Claudius kissed, she shed a tear. Although she had not found her happy ending yet, she was most certainly proud and overjoyed that her friends had found theirs.

On the way back to the castle in their carriage, Athena and Claudius discussed plans for their honeymoon. Perhaps they would travel to another country in Europe, or America even. They didn’t know. But they made plans to do what they loved for the rest of their life, in partnership, together. Claudius sitting in his chair, translating and writing and soon, hopefully, publishing his tales. And then Athena perched in his lap, whether human or cat, while he read and wrote. They would venture outside, too, in the forest on walks—and slowly, Claudius grew to not dread them as much. Athena loved them and that is all that mattered.

Eventually, Sir Claudius recorded his voice telling tales on a record and sold them around the streets of Dublin—as well as his books—for everyone to hear and read. This was so that, even though people went about their busy lives, they could still look back and remember all the tales of magic and creatures of the forest, the forest that once was, long before the tall buildings and cobblestone streets. A reminder of everything that has come before, and that one day, we will return to again.

~❦︎~❦︎~

End of A TALE OF THE SHAPESHIFTERS

Chapter 57: Author's Note

Chapter Text

Most of you don't know the story of how A Tale of the Shapeshifters began. Well, at one point in my life, I owned my own Discord server for writers (I deleted it because it became inactive). But my then-boyfriend (we will hear more about him later), who was a mod, decided it would be fun to hold a short story contest. 

The premise of the contest seemed interesting enough. He had a list of multiple characters, settings, and plots. And then when someone wanted to enter the contest, he would roll the die to create a prompt for them.

My prompt? "A dragon", "a kingdom", and "saving someone from turning to stone". Well, I hope you can all see how that panned out. The dragon obviously became Sir Claudius; the kingdom was the United Kingdom, and then Athena saved Claudius from turning to stone by finding out who she was and learning to accept his death.

Lots of people entered into the contest but... only two people actually wrote anything, including myself. The other person had a one-page story which was complete but then mine... about a 50-page incomplete novella.

I had initially planned for this to be a short story—roughly thirty pages, but my mind just took off! I had more to do with Sir Claudius and Athena. It went from a short story to a novelette, to a novella, and now a complete, 100k novel. 

The other person won that contest sheerly because their story was complete. I don't think anyone had planned (not even myself) that I would write an entire novel all based on a short story contest. 

Moving on from that introduction, this is pretty much my COVID and post-COVID novel. I began writing the day after the March shutdown. I woke up, decided to begin my short story, went out on the front porch, sprayed a ton of bug spray, sat down in my rocking chair, and with my orange tabby (Leo), I began writing. Over the course of several hours, I wrote Part I as well as Chapters I and II. I've never changed that first line.

I wrote throughout COVID—my characters were with me, making sure I wasn't alone.

The whole time, I knew that this was an accomplishable goal. I never had a doubt I wouldn't finish it I think because I had never planned for it to be as long as it was. And so, voilà! It is complete! My first novel! After so many starts and stops, and tries and re-tries, finally, an original idea that I'd never dabbled in before—I've finally accomplished something.

As many of my readers know, I took a break when I started college and didn't write again until winter break. But I immediately started back up during the winter of 2020-21. It felt great to revisit these characters who I've grown to love and adore so very much.

But then, a tragedy happened. Remember my ex-boyfriend I told you about? He was the love of my life, I thought. He was the main inspiration for Sir Claudius. The two main characters' relationship was based on my own. So many of their interactions—even down to their first kiss—were the same ones as my ex and I had.

He read the novel, encouraged me to continue writing it, edited it. Heck, he even gave me the idea for it! He was so central to this novel that I still feel as though I should dedicate it to him! 

Well, as life goes... the boy broke up with me.

Right on our two-year anniversary, on a phone call, while I was alone in my dorm late at night, at the beginning of the second semester of my freshman year. 

I didn't know how to live for several months. I developed an eating disorder, I stayed in bed all day, I didn't talk to anyone. I wanted to die. 

Athena's grief and misery when Claudius dies are reflective of my own grief I felt when my ex broke up with me. I didn't want to live because he had been so very much a part of me. I stopped writing during that time because I didn't want to write the last few lovey-dovey chapters Athena and Claudius had before he died. 

But just as Athena accepted his death, I had to accept my ex-boyfriend didn't want anything to do with me. The old person was dead. The one I loved and who loved me was dead and gone. Athena processing this was also me processing this.

Of course, since this is a Beauty and the Beast tale, Claudius comes back to her. But I consider Claudius not as my ex coming back to me, but rather, someone new. Someone else will come into my life who will love me and I will love them. I won't give all of myself to them this time so that I can still be a whole person. I've learned better than that. I think that is the theme of this novel. There are multiple of course, but I believe this is one of the main ones. 

I do still want to thank my ex (whose name will not be mentioned) for making me realize that I was loveable and that love is a beautiful, wonderful thing. Thank you also for giving me this idea for my first novel ever. 

But other than that, goodbye. 

Now, onto the acknowledgments of people who I do truly care about and are still in my life.

First of all, thank you to the wonderful people of the Bittersweet and Strange forum/Discord server for workshopping this piece and encouraging me as I wrote it. I truly appreciate all of the work and effort they put into editing the chapters they have. Love you guys!

Second of all, I'd like to thank everyone on the Quotev server that I am a part of, run by my dear friend, Red. They have helped me come up with ideas and brainstorm for this novel, as well as edit and do readthroughs of it. Thank you, Blue for reading the novel in its entirety (very quickly, might I add!) and being such a wonderful supporter. Thanks for also being there on vc to write with me! Thank you, oli, for being one of the first readers of this novel! I'm glad you enjoyed it so much. Your comments are always so supportive and make me laugh so hard. Thank you to Red for reading this novel and leaving such great, critical comments. 

A BIG HUGE thank you to my best friend fritz. I don't know what I'd do without you! This novel definitely wouldn't have been completed without your consistent encouragement, editing, brainstorming, idea sharing, and so forth. Literally, every time I updated, even if it's 2 am, you will be there to read it and comment. Thank you for all of your support and lovely words. You have no idea how much it means to me.

Thank you also to everyone who has read it and continued to read and leave comments. I appreciate you all so much.

Now, for some exciting announcements.

I have a few new things planned. First of all, I am currently writing a couple of new projects. One is a new Beauty and the Beast story who Bastard made some lovely art of the two main characters for! Go commission some art from him! Here is the link to that new story: That Which We Call Beast

I am also starting up a collab novel with fritz. It will essentially be an Ice Age and Jurassic Park crossover!

I am not sure if I will pick When Lilies Pierce Thorns back up. I had planned to for a while, but I am not sure now since my heart isn't in it, but oh well. Keep on the lookout for that, though, if I do plan to continue it.

Y'all will love this. I am planning a short story that details the honeymoon of Sir Claudius and Athena! I've been planning this for months now, so it's not new. And... hint hint, wink wink, it will be rated M.

Now, for the most exciting announcement! A few weeks ago, while I was planning revisions for this novel (this is just the first draft that has been complete), I came up with a new title! And I've been waiting until this moment to share it with you all.

The new title is:

As the Wild Rose Blooms

I felt it was a bit more fitting and a bit more in line with Athena's character development. 

Well, I believe that is all for now, folks! Keep on the lookout for the short story that will be upcoming as well as my new novels.

It has been quite the journey. Farewell.

~❦︎~ a lass with class ~❦︎~