The Crown of Blood and Bone

Mood music also spontaneous prose!

“Oh my, it seems my guest is not as well-mannered as I thought.”

Gerrik Belle swung around guiltily, the thorns from the rose piercing his skin in testament to his trespass. “I was- I only-,” he stammered, at first embarrassed about being caught, and then struck dumbfounded by the woman towering over him.  The overwhelming magic aura of the castle seemed to flow out of her, and her appearance reflected it, bringing stories of fey and the fair folk and their unforgiving nature to mind. He felt his knees betray him and he stumbled back, petals and thorns pressing into him.  She caught his elbow, smoothly bringing him back towards her as she turned his palm up to inspect it.  Carefully, the white-haired woman picked up the rose and began plucking off the thorns.

“Didn’t you know it’s dangerous to take what was not offered to you?” the question seemed to be teasing rather than an admonishment, but Gerrik felt it better to not trust the light tone.

“I’m sorry,” he said breathlessly, unable to tear his eyes away from the crown shaped in a pair of antlers on her head.  Rather than gold, it was made of bone, and the implications sent chills down his spine. “It was for my sister- she’s only four, I- I did not realize they were so important.”

She tucked the rose into the waistband of her jacket and inspected his hand, pulling out a thorn and then wrapping it in a strip of cotton cloth that came from nowhere.  “It’s importance is inconsequential. It wasn’t yours. And now it will die before its time because of your foolishness.” She held onto his hand, and while she did the pain in his palm seemed to disappear. “I have been nothing but a gracious host, given you shelter, food, even trinkets that your kind holds most valuable above all. You must pay for what you have taken, or I will be forced to take payment.”

“What-” Gerrik licked his dry lips and shifted on his feet, uncomfortable under her steady stare but unable to look away anymore than he could deny the truth of her words. “What kind of payment would you take?” His mind filled with horrors of the supernatural: sleeping in the woods for hundreds of years, becoming the rose he plucked, reduced to the piteous state he was in when he arrived and thrust hundreds of miles more from home, the list went on.

“The rose was for your sister? She would belong to me.”

He blanched. “It was only a rose! How can you say that her life is worth one rose!”

The woman’s grip tightened on his hand and though she spoke quietly, her voice shook his bones and he fell to his knees. “You are only a human! Who are you to judge the worth of my property! You asked for what I would take if you refused restitution, and I have named my price.”

“Please,” he pleaded, gripping her hand with both of his own, “I have nothing to give you! Take back the treasures you’ve given me, just don’t harm her, please!”

“Please,” she mocked, lip curling in disgust, “You think those are of any worth to me?  They are lifeless baubles and giving something back that was once mine is a payment in poor taste.”

“But I have nothing! I-” he gripped her hand tighter as his mind raced, “I have only my own life to offer! I am a failure and a wretch but I beg you to take me in place of my sister!”

She bent low, tendrils of ivory hair falling forward. Her frown did not quite meet her eyes. “Do you even know what you are offering?”

Gerrik hesitated. “I hear... humans are a delicacy to the fair folk.”

“HA!” she barked a laugh and pulled him to his feet, “If only your fate would be so swift.” For the first time her amusement appeared genuine, and she smiled widely as she smoothed the shoulders of his suit.  “If you offer yourself in place of your sister, you will belong to me- you will live here as you did this past week, in complete comfort but forever cut off from your former life.  The treasures will be taken to your family by my servants, the rose will be your sister’s and you will be mine.”

He hesitated. It didn’t seem so bad, at first. “I’m... to be your pet?”

Her eyes crinkled with mirth, “You may see it that way. I hope in time you will choose to see it differently.  Are you sure you don’t wish to give up your sister? She would be just as comfortable here.”

Gerrick shook his head.  “No. I will stay here.” He felt the urge to tell her to not send the rose to her as well, the thought of his family in possession of fey objects, even if she said they were mundane, did not seem such a good idea but he was afraid of upsetting her if he even mentioned it.

“Very well.”  She let go of his hand and plucked at the center of his chest. For a moment, Gerrik’s vision filled with strings that webbed and filled the world, but before he could get a proper look or make any sense of it, they were gone and she was holding a thin, delicate thread between her fingers. She wrapped it around her ring finger and when she was done it looked like a simple band of gold, but if he looked closer Gerrik could see the individual coils of wispy thread.  She handed the rose back to him and turned back toward the castle.  His stomach dropped, her casual air seemed to cheapen the finality of selling his soul.  “Come along Mr. Belle.  I’m sure you will want to pack more for your family and write a letter explaining yourself.”

“What do I call you?” he asked, falling in step behind her as he rubbed his injured hand.  It had begun to pain him again.

She turned her head to look back at him, the blood red gems hanging from her crown winking in the sunlight as they bobbed back and forth.  “Mistress Beast.  Or simply Beast, if you prefer.”

“Surely the fair folk have better names than what we lowly humans use to refer to hideous creatures.” Gerrik felt the name was accurate in a subtle way, but didn’t feel it was wise to say so.

She smiled, “Perhaps you will feel it is a fitting name over time.”