Certain as the Sun

by Scungilli

Notes:

Huge thank you to my partner Elkaseltzer for all of your help with developing this AU!! 
Another thank you to my friend and Beta, Lily, who has been so helpful and supportive!! 

Chapter 1: Prologue

Summary:

An arrogant king and his castle's servants fall under the spell of a wicked enchantress, who turns him into a hideous beast until he learns to love and be loved in return. The headstrong spitfire, Alastor, enters the Beast's castle after he imprisons his mother. With the help of the king's enchanted servants, Alastor begins to draw the cold-hearted beast out of his isolation.

If they can get over their pride, that is...

RadioApple Beauty and the Beast AU

A beautiful waltz echoed through the extravagant ballroom, the lilting sound danced amongst the gilded pillars. The guests were dressed in their finest, showcasing expensive silks, soft velvets and glittering golds. From the intricately painted ceiling, down to the sparkling marble floor, every inch of his palace was an example of his wealth; his influence. Not a single thing was out of place, not a single smudge on the stained glass, not a hair askew or a shoe unpolished.

Lucifer watched the people dance, perfect in every way imaginable. The candlelight illuminated the room and cast dancing shadows that moved with their hosts. Women in shimmering dresses smiled and politely waved at him during their dance, their painted lips and batting eyelashes coaxing him toward the dance floor.

A cheerful giggle tore his gaze away, his attention now focused on his beloved daughter. The young girl’s golden hair was tied up in an intricate style that threatened to come loose with her excited dances. Her bright eyes shone in the candlelight and her smile lit up her face. She was a vision, the most beautiful flower in his perfect kingdom.

Charlie’s eyes met his and her smile made the room that much brighter. She waved at him to join the dance. Her closest friend, Vaggie, stood nearby, similarly endeared by Charlie’s natural sunshine demeanor. Lucifer stood from his throne, taking the first step off his dais as a new song began in earnest. Without hesitation he danced amongst his guests.

As always they moved with impeccable harmony and poise. Their movements were practiced and nearly robotic in their execution. Everything was just as it should be. Nothing but the most exceptional for his kingdom, his palace.

A jarring noise quieted the crowd and made the harpsichordist abruptly halt his song with a discordant note. Lucifer turned to the glass, double doors that led out into his garden. The wicked storm outside painted the panes in shades of black that obscured the view of the outside.

The doors creaked open, allowing the wind and rain to invade and ruin the unblemished picture his palace had made. A hunched over figure stalked into the ballroom, draped in black cloth and stinking of filth and squalor. Their very presence turned heads, attracting the attention of the dancers

Charlie yelped, covering her face from the onslaught of needle like rain drops that blew in from the storm. Her wide eyes looked to Lucifer for an explanation; a solution .

Disbelief and contempt quickly brewed in Lucifer veins, setting his blood alight with disdain as he navigated the crowd to address the intruder directly. Up close, he realized that it was nothing but an old crone. A poor woman that curled into herself, her crooked hands clutching at her tattered robes and her wrinkled features puckered in discomfort.

She looked up at the king with a pleading look in her clouded gaze. She whispered a desperate plea for shelter from the bitter storm outside, her voice grating against Lucifer’s nerves with every choked out word. Her shaking hand reached inside the folds of her robe and produced a single, blood red rose. She offered the flower in exchange for warmth and shelter.

Lucifer stared down over the slope of his nose, glaring at the bloom in disgust. He huffed a disbelieving laugh, his amusement getting the better of him. Soon he devolved into laughter, turning to his guests as they quickly followed suit. Surely, this woman was senile.

The king plucked the rose from her hand, turning the bloom in his hand as he inspected the delicate petals. Although beautiful, Lucifer could appreciate thousands of identical blooms in his garden. How would this be considered a gift fit for the king? He scoffed and dropped the rose on the ground, wiping his hand on a handkerchief.

The old woman scrambled to pick up the rose from the marble floor, inspecting the flower before turning her gaze back to Lucifer. She warned the king not to be fooled by appearances, that true beauty is found within.

Lucifer scoffed and snatched the rose from her. He crushed the bloom in his clenched fist and allowed the ruined petals to float to the floor. With a sneer, he pointed toward the open door and commanded her to leave as he turned away from her in dismissal.

Charlie stood off to the side, her smile replaced with a frown. Her lips trembled with the onset of fresh tears. Before Lucifer could speak to her, a rush of wind pushed at his back and nearly knocked him off his feet.

The king turned to see the woman bathed in a golden glow. Her form was enveloped by glittering ribbons of powerful magic. Soon, the shell of her outward appearance melted away like the last snow of spring. Twisted and aged features soon changed into the delicate elegance of a youthful face. The woman that was revealed was as magnificent as she was powerful. The enchantress’ hair was as black as night and her skin was as white as snow. Her wise eyes were the color of rubies to match the rosiness of her lips.

Lucifer stumbled backward as her magic pulsed like a heartbeat in the ballroom. The guests behind him ran in fear, out of the corner of his eye he caught the governess, Rosie, leading Charlie and Vaggie out of the ballroom in panic.

Lucifer dropped to his knees in deference. He begged for her forgiveness with a trembling voice. The enchantress looked down at him in disdain.

She looked into his heart and found it void of the love he had once spread throughout the kingdom. All that remained was a single spark he reserved for his daughter. The rest was nothing but pride and bitterness. In a flash of blinding light, Lucifer could feel the very fiber of his being begin to change.

It started with a searing pain in his skull, an immense pressure that nearly blinded him in its intensity. Trails of scalding blood streaked down in his face and matted into his hair. He screamed as horns burst from the sides of his skull, growing until they curled like the horns of a ram beside his head.

His bones cracked and his skin stretched as his body broke apart and reformed itself. He screamed in agony, curling over as if to shield himself from the pain of his rebirth. Soon, his nails had grown into claws and his feet had hardened into hooves. His teeth sharpened into razor points and a thin layer of fur grew to cover the entirety of his body. A burning sensation cut through the skin of Lucifer’s back as symmetrical, parallel slits opened up down the length of his spine. Six wings, the color of blood, unfurled from the newly formed lines and flapped helplessly like those of a flightless bird. 

Lucifer leaned on his hands, his body trembling with pain and exertion. A roar tore itself from his throat, the inhuman sound shaking the palace on its foundation.

Charlie’s teary voice called out his name from the ballroom entrance. Her frightened expression was made worse by the tears streaming down her cheeks. Vaggie stood close by, holding an arm in front of the princess to protect her. Immediately, Lucifer’s stomach dropped as shame filled him to his core, she couldn’t see him in this state. She couldn’t see what he had become.

The enchantress turned to the girl with a frown full of pity. With a wave of her hand, the castle was draped in shadows. Her power surged through the palace and spread her curse to every corner. Cries similar to Lucifer’s echoed through the halls as each resident buckled over in pain as the spell took effect.

The enchantress raised her hand, producing a shimmering rose identical to the one Lucifer had just rejected. She held it delicately in her hands as she addressed Lucifer for a final time.

If he could learn to love another and earn love in return by the time the last petal falls, the spell would be broken. If not, he would be cursed to remain a beast for all time.

The years had bled by, the clock slowly but surely ticking away the time. Lucifer fell into despair as he lost all hope.

 

For who could ever learn to love a beast ?

 

Art by Lily

Notes:

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Some other stories you may like:
Into the Dark (another beast lucifer fic with a horror twist)
Red Thread That Binds Us (king and sworn sword AU)
My Songbird (Monster x Monster hunter AU)

Chapter 2: Little Town

Summary:

Little town
It's a quiet village
Every day
Like the one before

Notes:

Thank you so much for all the support this story has gotten so far! I am having a BLAST writing this and it has really reignited my passion for writing. I am HOPING to have an update once a week but I cannot guarantee the exact day <3 Thank you to Lily for being my wonderful beta and cheerleader.

Alastor flipped to the last page of the novel cradled in his palm, humming as the story wrapped itself up in a neat little bow. He closed the book and tucked it against his chest. 

The village was bustling that morning, the sun shining down on the cobblestone pathways and a warm breeze gently swayed the flowers sitting in the rows of window boxes. 

Overlapping chatter finally registered in his mind, the sound returning to his senses after he had effectively tuned it out to finish the last chapter.

The baker called out to potential customers, luring them in with the smell of freshly baked bread and the sweet undertone of sugared desserts. The farmer held produce up to the nose of a young woman, enticing her patronage with the fruit he’d harvested that morning. Church bells echoed through the village as the clock hit the hour while children screeched with joy while they ran down the alleys between homes. 

The morning was the same as it always had been. The day mimicked the days and months prior, the routine hardly ever broken by anything noteworthy. Alastor’s life had become dull; provincial. 

His only escape was the stories woven in the pages he held in his hand. Alastor pushed open the door to the local library, immediately calmed by the familiar aroma of old paper and ink. The library was as unoccupied as normal, the only signs of life being himself and the lanky librarian dusting the shelves. 

“Good morning,” The librarian greeted, taking the book Alastor held out to him. “Did you enjoy my recommendation?”

Alastor nodded and ran his finger down the familiar spines. “It was better than I had hoped. Anything new?” He asked hopefully. 

“Not since you were here yesterday.” The man responded with an airy laugh. 

“Very well, I will take this one again.” Alastor decided and pulled out a book with an aged red leather spine. It was a book he had borrowed many times before, he knew the story cover to cover. However, familiarity didn’t make it any less interesting to dive into. 

“You’ve already read it four times.” The librarian mentioned playfully. 

“Well of course! How could I argue the appeal of a witty protagonist, high stakes battles, a tasteful romance and a fascinating villain?” Alastor replied while gesturing theatrically. 

“If you like it so much, you can keep it.” the librarian offered with a small smile, a gleam in his eyes as he peeked over his glasses. 

Alastor snapped his gaze away from the novel to look up at the librarian in surprise. “I insist.” The man said before Alastor could argue the point.

Alastor finally accepted the gift and opened to the first page before he even left the old library. As soon as he began reading, his mind dived back into the world he had visited many times before. 

Through the pages a story began to weave together in blooms of color. He could taste the salt of the sea, feel the breeze of the coast in his hair and smell the blooming flowers growing outside of the imaginary palace. The feisty heroine laments on her situation, dreaming of something more than she has. Something bigger than herself. She wanted more, something adventurous and new. She wanted-

“Hey!” A disgustingly familiar voice called out, effectively yanking Alastor from the story. He scowled and looked up from the pages to see a figure trying to weave through the crowd towards him. Alastor twirled around to continue walking the opposite direction, this time with far more urgency than before. 

A large hand landed on Alastor’s shoulder, making his skin crawl. “Hey, I was calling you.” 

Alastor turned to face Vox. The man’s smile stretched his face, showing off his bright whites. His short black hair was combed back as neatly as usual, only adding to his air of curated perfection. His tailored suit was pristine despite the rumored trip he had just returned from. Alastor had faintly hoped he had gotten lost.

Alastor glanced to the side. Vox’s companion was standing with him, not slightly invested in the conversation. Valentino was a man that towered over them both, thin and eccentric in his appearance. His tan skin was often painted in spring colored hues and his fashion always screamed how desperate he was for attention. Alastor could never understand why the man followed Vox around like a loyal pet, their relationship did not make much sense. Then again, Alastor didn’t care enough to analyze it too intensely.

“Nice book you got there.” Vox commented with a gesture toward the book in Alastor’s hand.

Alastor raised an eyebrow. “Have you read it?” He asked skeptically. If Alastor was in a more sour mood he would have asked if Vox could even read to begin with.

“Well no…but you know.” There was a pause before Vox cleared his throat awkwardly. “Anyway-” He held up a bouquet of blue and red flowers to Alastor’s nose. “For your dinner table.”

Vox pushed the flowers closer as if to entice Alastor to take them. “Shall I join you this evening?” He asked with a practiced grin.

Alastor scoffed and pushed the flowers away. “Absolutely not.” He responded bitterly. 

“Have plans?” Vox asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Not a one but frankly I’d rather not spend another moment with you. Good day.” Alastor answered, shoving Vox with his shoulder as he walked past.

Vox watched as Alastor stormed away, the noonday sun reflecting off of his warm brown skin. He kept an eye on the other man until he vanished into the crowd.

 

---

 

 

“Finally give up?” Valentino asked with a smug grin.

Vox barked a laugh. “Of course not. He’s just playing hard to get, it’ll only make my success all the sweeter. Besides, that’s what makes him so hot.” Vox gestured in the vague direction Alastor disappeared to. “He’s not making a fool of himself just to get in my pants.”

“You mean he has dignity?” Valentino said as he stuffed a long, elegant pipe full of tobacco. 

“It’s outrageously sexy isn’t it?” Vox asked with a thirsty smile. 

Valentino simply shook his head while Vox planned his next move.

 

 

---

 

 

Alastor threw open the iron gate leading to his small cottage. The quaint, stone home was tucked away in the outskirts of the village. The surrounding land was rich with growing autumn crops and grazing hens. He stepped up the wooden stairs and opened up the door with a huff. 

His irritation quickly fizzled out when he heard his mother’s voice from the main room, he turned the corner to see her sat in front of her loom as always. It was a picture of pure domestic comfort that eased the fire in Alastor’s chest. His maman sang a quiet song while she worked in front of their fireplace. Her auburn curls were held back by scrap fabric and her dress was simple yet skillfully handmade. Her deft hands worked on the loom, creating another elegant tapestry that she looked at with pride.

Alastor set his book down and rummaged through the kitchen. He collected a slice of bread and steeped a small cup of tea before bringing her the plate. “I’m home.” He greeted, pulling her from her intense focus. 

Marie startled and held a hand to her chest. “Oh! You startled me. Welcome home, my dear.” She replied, removing the thin glasses from her nose and taking the tea with a thankful smile. 

Alastor grabbed a stool and moved it so they could sit beside each other. He examined the nearly finished tapestry, it was a depiction of a family of deer. A buck, a doe and their little fawn stood in a field of flowers. He couldn’t help but smile at the sight. “What was your inspiration for this one?” He asked with a sip from his own teacup.

Marie smiled and sighed wistfully. “Us.” She replied simply. 

Alastor nodded in understanding, his eyes drawn to the paintings covering nearly every inch of their walls. Paintings and sketches from a time long past filled their home with the memories of a talented artist who loved nothing more than his family. Alastor had spent most of his childhood sitting beside his father while the man painted, pouring his soul into his art and teaching Alastor what he could. He had always told Alastor that the point of his art was to make a single, special moment last forever.

Alastor felt his mother squeeze his hand when they looked at the painting of their family together. His father had been so proud of it, displaying it in the heart of their home. The couple were sitting together in a garden with their young son sitting between them. It was the last painting his father had ever finished.

“That’s what I want for you.” Marie finally broke their silence, elbowing Alastor in the ribs lightly. When Alastor made a questioning hum she elaborated. “I want you to have a love like that.” 

Alastor scrunched his nose but didn’t make a comment. She spoke from the heart and with the best of intentions, but he knew that he was…different. He didn’t love in the same way she did, or anyone he had ever met for that matter. Besides, he had met every soul in his village and no one had ever been able to keep his attention for more than a polite wave hello. 

“Do you think I am odd?” He asked abruptly, making his maman furrow her brows.

“My son? Odd? Where did you get an idea like that?” She asked with a disbelieving scoff. Alastor shrugged and took her empty cup to bring back to the kitchen. 

“Oh you know. It’s a small village and people talk.” He explained with a flippant gesture. He didn’t know why he asked, he knew it was true no matter what his maman said. 

“A small village full of small minded people.” Marie finally said, running a finger over her tapestry. “All they want is what is familiar…and safe.” She stood up to pack up her supplies with a pensive look. “I knew a man like you once. He was so ahead of his time. So brave and different that people didn’t understand him. He was mocked as a young man.”

Alastor swallowed thickly and glanced over at the easel that remained tucked away in the corner, still set up as if awaiting for its owner to return. “I wish I remembered more.” Alastor commented. 

Marie rested a hand on Alastor’s arm and squeezed it affectionately. “He was a wonderful man, much like you. Never change, sweetheart.” She concluded, raising to her tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek.

 

 

---

 

 

Alastor finished his final check to make sure the cart was properly secured to their horse, Maestro. He ran through his mental checklist a final time just to be sure. His maman would tease he was overcritical of the detail but he would argue he was simply being a good son.

Marie covered her folded tapestries with a canvas sheet, tucking in the sides to make sure her art was protected for her journey to the next town. She had made the journey alone every year since Alastor’s father had passed, always refusing help with a stubbornness that Alastor often noticed in himself.

“Are you positive you do not need me to accompany you?” He asked one more time for good measure. 

Marie waved the words away with her hand and climbed into the box seat of the cart with practiced grace. “I’ll be just fine, Alastor. It’s just to the fair and then back home. Can I bring you anything from the fair, my dear?” 

Alastor leaned against the cart and smiled up at her. “A rose.”

Marie giggled and straightened out her skirts. “You ask for one every year.” 

Alastor leaned forward and pulled her into an embrace, the position slightly offkilter while she was in the cart. “You always bring me one.”

Marie pulled back to kiss his forehead. “And I will bring you another.”

She waved and blew a final parting kiss. “Goodbye Alastor! I will see you tomorrow with the rose.” 

“Goodbye, maman.” Alastor waved back as she rode away. He took a deep breath and watched as she disappeared down the trail. 

“Stay safe.” He whispered to himself before stepping back inside.

Chapter 3: A Red Rose

Summary:

Is he gone?
Can you imagine?
He asked me to marry him!
Me!
The husband of that boorish, brainless...

Notes:

Thank you to my friend and Beta, Lily!!!
And now...a playlist!! 

The trees continued on in a repeating pattern that had slowly become more and more unrecognizable. Marie gripped tighter on the reins as anxiety brewed in her chest. She must have made a wrong turn somewhere but how? Both her and Maestro had been to the fair enough times to know the path by heart. 

The well-worn thoroughfare slowly transitioned into an overgrown path that hadn’t been stamped down by years of continuous use. Maestro’s steps had become slower, far more hesitant than before. He huffed through his nose and wrenched his head away from another branch that had grown to block the path. 

“We should have been there by now.” Marie commented to herself. The telltale rumbling of thunder warned her of a quickly approaching storm. Maestro stopped in his tracks when the path ahead was well and truly blocked by a fallen tree. 

Marie took stock of her surroundings and tightened the shawl around her shoulders when a bitter wind blew through the layers of her dress. “Let’s go this way.” She instructed with a click of her tongue, guiding the horse to take a right down an admittedly ominous path. 

What began as trepidation soon became dread as the gnarled trees multiplied the deeper they traveled. Before she even realized it, Marie found herself in a dark tunnel of entangled trees that blocked what little light she received from the waning moon. 

Rain fell to the forest floor in fat drops, quickly beading on her frizzed curls and sending shivers through her skin. Marie reached back into her cart to procure the scarf that Alastor had packed for her. She wrapped it around her neck and turned up the flame on her oil lantern. 

The chill of the night clung to her skin and numbed her fingers but they carried on, long since giving up on the prospect of making it into town in favor of finding any form of shelter. It was not the first time she had regretted leaving Alastor behind, but it was the first time the consequences of her stubbornness had manifested in such a dire way.

“Oh Maestro, he is going to be quite cross with us isn’t he?” She joked lightly in a reach for levity. Both her and her son had often used feigned nonchalance or humor as a way to mask unwelcome emotions. If it weren’t for the situation, the low rumbling thunder and the rain filtering through the trees would have been peaceful. Marie had always tried to find the silver lining no matter how thin the lining may be. 

A distant rustling caught her attention, raising the hair on the back of her neck and sending goosebumps down her arms. She held out the lantern in an attempt for any sign of the source of the noise. She hoped it had been a squirrel or another small creature.

However she was not naive nor inexperienced. 

Marie flicked the reins, prompting Maestro to pick up the pace as more figures made themselves known in the dark. The horse sped up into a canter as the sounds raised in volume and growls joined the nerve wracking sounds. 

Marie gasped when the first wolf leapt from the dark to snap at Maestro’s legs, only narrowly missing. She whipped the reins again and guided the horse through the twisting forest path, all the while dodging and kicking away snarling wolves with her boots. Panic caused her heart to race and her blood to boil. Time seemed to both slow and accelerate in blinding flashes. 

With a well placed snarling snap from one of the beasts, Maestro reared back and launched the woman from the box seat. The cart fell to its side with a loud crash that temporarily made the wolves jump back. 

Marie quickly scrambled to her feet, slipping in the accumulating puddles as she bolted toward Maestro. With no time to dawdle, she unhooked her steed from the cart and mounted his back. Maestro galloped away to escape the wolves that swiftly caught up to them. Marie held tight to her horse and prayed to whatever deity would listen for her safe retreat. She had to return to Alastor, she couldn’t leave him alone and bereft of yet another parent. 

The loud screeching of metal ahead of her caught her attention. An imposing iron gate stood proud at the end of the path. It slowly opened, the hinges squeaking in protest as it did so. 

Maestro quickly ran through the gate and slowed to a stop when the attack had suddenly ceased. Marie turned around to find the wolf pack standing at the wide open gate, not stepping a paw past the threshold and instead staring in apprehension. 

Marie sighed in relief when the pack turned away and disappeared into the woods. She slipped off Maestro with shaking limbs and rubbed at his neck. “Well, they’re just going to have to find their dinner somewhere else, right boy?”

Upon inspection she was thankful to see that both her and Maestro were unharmed other than being shaken to the core. They seemed to have found themselves in a massive garden. Intricately shaped bushes, expensive statues and what felt like miles of greenery surrounded them. 

What was far more shocking was what she noticed when she looked up. Marie found herself standing in front of a massive castle, one with spires that reached toward the heavens. The castle felt far older than she was, a relic from a time long past but still breathtaking in its stature and nobility. The gothic architecture inspired awe yet it was clear that the building itself was falling apart at the seams. Cobwebs stuck to the highest corners, deep gauges made patterns in marble and several of the stained glass windows had been cracked or shattered.

Tucked into the side of the palace was a stable, one that was surprisingly well kept for a property that seemed long abandoned. “Okay dear, rest here while I go speak to our unwitting host.” Marie told her horse as she guided him to take shelter in the stable. She then ascended a grand staircase that led to two heavy doors. She took a moment to marvel at the intricacy held in every detail of the dormant giant. Hope swelled in her chest at the sight of a light flickering away in one of the lanterns by the door. Perhaps this place held life after all. 

If that was the case, why hadn’t she known of this place? Surely if a royal family had lived here, they would be known back home. What good was royalty if they did not rule? 

Deciding to shelf her questions for now, she approached one of the doors. Marie took a deep breath and reached forward to knock but gasped when the door opened for her. “Oh! Thank you!” She said as she stepped into the palace. 

There was…no one there. The door seemed to have opened by itself. 

She scanned the foyer for any sign of someone else but came up empty. The room was swallowed by shadows and the ghosts of a once lively home. She could hear the sounds of the storm picking up speed outside, the wind rattling the old stained glass. 

“Hello?” Marie called out hesitantly, holding her shawl tighter around herself. Her heeled boots clicked against the marble floor as she traversed further into the old castle. Her eyes were drawn to the extravagant architecture and expensive furnishings. She stopped briefly to admire a magnificent, three-pronged candlestick. “Gorgeous.” she whispered, running a finger along one of the arms before she continued to explore. 

“Hear that?” A voice said from behind her, making her wheel around with a startled gasp. 

“Is someone there?” Marie asked, following the sound of the voice. The darkness had bled into every corner, making it difficult for her to navigate. She reached for the candlestick, only to notice it was gone. Whoever spoke must have taken it. “I am just a traveler. I lost my way and I was hoping I could find shelter from the storm.”

A sudden warmth filled the bleak room, dancing orangey hues from the next room flickered against the stark marble. Marie followed the lights to find a roaring fireplace with a plush chair in front. “Oh, thank you!” She sighed in relief as she approached. The flames licked at her hands and slowly returned feeling to the frozen digits. 

A quiet squeak drew Marie’s attention away from the cozy fire. She stood still as a butler's cart slowly rolled in her direction. The cart contained a delicate, hand painted tea pot with matching saucers and cups. Marie watched in morbid fascination even as the cart pulled up right next to her. Steam wafted from the rich colored liquid already filling the teacup. The enticing, floral smell wasn’t enough to offset how utterly strange the entire situation was.

The saucer and cup scooted across the cart closer to Marie’s clenched hand. “They told me not to move because it might scare you. Sorry.” A small, feminine voice whispered from the cup. In the firelight Marie could see the painted features of a face on the porcelain, a winsome smile and wide eyes looked at her expectantly.

“That’s quite alright dear.” Marie responded to the cup. 

In the next moment she was already out the door. “Maestro dear, it is time to go! Quickly!” She yelled out as she grabbed his reins. Fear coursed through her veins, chilling her to the bone. The leather of the reins creaked in her shaking grip, Maestro seemed even more on edge. The horse fought against her guidance, whinnying and thrashing in her hold. 

Marie tried to calm the steed despite her own fears, she hushed and guided him further into the garden and away from whatever it was that possessed the bones of the forgotten palace. A trellis of overgrown roses caught her attention, the soft petals swaying in the wind. Her promise to Alastor pushed to the forefront of her mind. If she was going to endure all this hardship, the least she could do was have something to show for it. Besides, she always brought a rose back to her son and she was determined to fulfill her promise. 

Maestro panicked further when she reached for the bloom. She carefully avoided the thorns as she snapped the stem, distantly the clap of thunder shook the sky. The horse yanked its reins from her hand and he quickly took off back toward the gate. 

Maestro’s escape made her look up in panic but she promptly froze where she stood. A shadow blocked out what little light came from the sky, creating a horrid silhouette on the ground beneath her. The rose fell from her fingers as her blood ran cold.

 

---

 

Alastor jumped when a loud knock sounded against his door. He had been seated at the fireplace nose deep in the book he had borrowed, perhaps the peace was too good to be true. He sighed and stood up. 

He cracked open the door and outwardly groaned when he noticed Vox standing there with all the confidence in the world.

“Oh wow. What a pleasant surprise.” Alastor sneered sarcastically while crossing his arms. 

“Isn’t it though?” Vox said while he bullied his way past the door frame and into the house. Alastor glared at his back and tried to pick which object he was going to smash over the other man’s head. “I’m just full of surprises.”

“Y’know, there is not a soul in this village that wouldn’t kill to be in your shoes” Vox announced while his nosy gaze roamed the house. 

“Dare I ask why?”

“Today is the day all of your dreams come true!” He grinned at Alastor and leaned his elbow against the wall to prop against it. 

Alastor wandered past Vox toward the kitchen. He plucked his maman’s rolling pin from the counter and tested its weight in hands. “And what do you know about my dreams?”

Vox scoffed and plopped down on one of the wooden chairs by the kitchen table. He leaned back, propping up his filthy shoes on the table while he continued his delusional soliloquy. “Plenty! I can picture it now.”

Vox gestured wildly while the insanity spilled from his lips. “A rustic little cottage, a warm meal cooking over the fire and my little husband rubbing my feet while the little ones play on the floor.”

Alastor held up a plate, deeming it too light for his purposes. 

“You know who that little husband will be?” Vox asked, standing from the chair to shadow Alastor as he wandered his kitchen. 

“Hmm, let me think.” Alastor responded bitterly. 

“You, Alastor.” 

A sickening shiver ran down Alastor's spine at the thought. Unbidden, the image of himself waiting on Vox hand and foot while he played the role of a meek housewife flashed in his mind. Red flared in his vision. He finally grabbed the cast iron pan from the counter, already picturing the Vox sized dent it was about to have. 

“I can see you are speechless. All you have to do is say yes.” Vox goaded with far too much confidence. The facade of perfection was intolerable to the point of disgust and Alastor had had enough. 

“Oh Vox. I don’t deserve you.” He turned around to face the other man, brandishing his skillet without a modicum of hesitation. Fury scorched through his veins and hatred blurred his vision. “My standards are far too high.” 

In a flurry of frightened pleas, near misses and a few scattered curses, Alastor chased the man from his home. Vox didn’t have a moment to breathe before his boots were flying from Alastor's door only to strike him directly in his nose. 

Alastor watched as Vox walked away with his tail between his legs. Anger still burned hotly at his neck and made his skin crawl with discomfort. 

“Can‘t you just see it?” Alastor asked, looking down at one of his hens. “Married to that boorish, brainless-“ Alastor yelled in frustration and stormed out of the yard toward the back of the house. ”Well not me! I can guarantee that!”

He ascended the hill behind his home, tall enough to overlook the village. He watched the townspeople go about their day, entirely content with their uneventful lives. Alastor sighed, his anger fading into a small spark. 

He laid in the grass and looked up at the cloudy sky, watching as the fluffy clouds slowly rolled past.  

Alastor was sick of it. Sick of the mundane, the simple and the safe. He wanted adventure. The little town was too small to hold his dreams, his ideals and his goals. Besides, leaving it all behind would take him far away from that muscle headed ape. 

But maman…

A loud whinny shook him from his thoughts, dragging his attention toward a frightened Maestro. The horse shoved his snout into the watering bucket, drinking in thick gulps while Alastor stared in horror. 

“Maestro!” He screamed while he ran down the hill toward the animal. “Where is maman?” He grabbed Maestro’s bridle and inspected him for any injuries. When he found none he pulled the horse’s head up to look into his eyes. “Where is she?”

Not wasting another moment, Alastor mounted the horse and directed him to retrace his steps. Maestro, the clever steed that he was, obeyed and carried Alastor into the depths of the forest.