Thorns of the Beast

For a moment I believed I was dead. Darkness surrounded me and cold cloth suffocated me, to the point where I began flailing for air. I flung my hands over my head and thrashed out in desperation, when suddenly I was no longer lying flat on my back, but on a cold stone floor. I rolled onto my side and stared up; I was not only alive, but in a room.
I sat up and took in the marvelous room. Tapestries telling of Greek gods and goddesses adorned the chipped and cracked white walls, between every other lanterns, as well as paintings of kings, now gone from this world. An antique, crystal chandelier hung in the center of the rounded ceiling and poorly illuminated the room. Large stained glass windows lined three of the four walls. The moon shined through one and several stars twinkled around it. Next to me sat a large wooden posted bed with disheveled white silk sheets.
I had been placed in the bed. Using the edge of the mattress as support, I stood on my feet and gazed around. Only the bed, a table next to the windows, and a large mirror had been placed in the room. I made my way cautiously over to the mirror. In surprise, my clothes had been replaced. I no longer wore my ball gown, but instead a white blouse, black knee length linen skirt, and gray vest. My curly auburn hair had also been pulled from its large up do and braided. Quickly, I turned my now blood-cleaned arm and spotted two small sores, but no large cuts. On my neck the same sized puncture wounds seemed as if they'd had weeks to fade off my skin. Countless thoughts raced through my mind.
Where am I?
Who clothed me?
Was that man behind all of this?
In confusion and stepped back from the mirror and strode to the oak door. To my surprise, it opened at the slightest pull. The tiny creeks echoed through the halls outside the door and around me. I winced and hoped not to be heard by any surrounding ears. The light of the room flowed out into the dark halls and cast eerie shadowy figures. I sighed in frustration and turned back into the room to look for a convenient candle or lantern. Luckily for me, several unused candles had been discarded under the large bed. I walked to the closest flame and illuminated the wick.
A dark chill surrounded me as I took my first few steps into the hall. Ancient paintings, drenched in cobwebs, decorated the walls. Some shown battles, others seemed familiar to me somehow. The further I ventured into the abyss, the more the temperature dropped and harder it became to maintain the brightness of the flame as well as my grip on the candle. The hairs on the back of my neck began to stand on end and the cold slowly sunk into my skin.
Soon enough the hall ended and I could go one of three ways: left, right, or down. I strained my neck to see where the darkened stairs led, and in this search I spotted a candle on the left post of the stairs. As I quickly shifted my flame towards the other candle, I realized that the post was a monstrous gargoyle. I pulled back a moment, but mustered up strength and set the wick of my candle against the slightly burnt end of the gargoyle's head. The flame dimmed for a moment then gradually brightened.
Out of the corner of my eye I spotted brightness. I turned to see the gargoyle across the stairwell had been lit as well.
I didn’t light that flame.
Suddenly, gargoyle's all around me began to light and show their ugly, deformed expressions. Down the stairs, the flames descended and illuminated everything around me. To my left and right were halls which wrapped around to the other side of the ballroom and overlapped at a large oak door, much like the one in the chamber I had awoken in.
Below me, an old, gleaming ballroom pushed to show its beauty beneath years of neglect and filth. My feet, as if by instinct, shuffled down each stair. With every small movement, more magnificence began to show through the grime and age of the ballroom.
As I reached the last step, and every inch of my body froze in awe. Light flickered and shimmered against the thick red curtains covering the windows which stretched from the floor to the ceiling and enclosed the entire ballroom floor. Dust stained the corners of the fabric yet added a nice touch, in my eyes. Cobwebs hung from the blinding chandelier, which mimicked the qualities but not the size of the one in my chamber. Miniscule paths of light shined on the dark polished floor and I found my focus concentrated upon them.
Before I knew it, I had paced my way to the center of the room directly under the chandelier. In a moment of weakness I twirled and let my small skirt fly up and spin after me. I felt somewhat childish, considering I had grown up as heir to the throne, Marie Annabel Martine Stewart. Parties had been thrown almost every night in ballrooms far more splendid and immaculate than this, but none had been so lovely in my eyes. Wild memories of dancing and prancing around like a young foul flashed through my mind as if they had just occurred.
Loud music clanged against the walls and stuck in my ears for weeks after a party. The new ball gown fashions had become fuller and lighter to accommodate dancing and being twirled in the air by a male partner and the colors had transitioned from fall to winter. I refused to wear a dress any color besides blue because it was my mother’s favorite on me. On most nights father would reserve a special dance for me near the end of the evening. He would pick me up and allow me to place my small feet upon his large ones and let him lead me from one end of the ballroom to the other and back again, that was until I became too old and large for these shenanigans. I had turned seventeen just before mother and father had passed away.
Tears clouded my eyes and I was pulled back to reality, though the music of the violin from past parties still played through my mind. After several moments of contemplating, I realized the music wasn’t from my memories, but it escaped from a crack in the large oak door above me. I turned and ascended the stairs and slowly made my way towards the slightly cracked door. As I approached, the violin’s harmony became louder and the melody enchanted my senses. The pace quickly escalated and multiple chords filled the cold air. I had heard this song many times before, and knew in the back of my mind that more than one violin was required to sound correct.
Once I stood outside the door I looked through the crack and saw only a single figure by a bright fire lit in an elegant fire place. He stood in a natural pose for violinists, right foot forward standing as vertical as humanly possible. Several violins joined the man, but still only his body stood. Faster and faster the pace became and I could not believe my ears. This was inhuman.
This man is not human.
As if I’d triggered it with my thoughts, the man ended his song on a high note and let it softly die. The air tensed and silence hung heavily. He set his violin atop the fireplace mantel and began to wonder in my direction, his boots thudding against the wooden floor and shaking me to a point of pure terror. I rapidly turned back into the darkness and slowed my breathing so an almost dead stillness. The movement ceased. And I relaxed my tension somewhat, but not before the door behind me swung open and cast light upon me.
I spun around and took in a breath to scream in fright, but I was quickly pulled to my feet, yanked into the room, and shoved against a wall; a familiar cold hand covering my mouth. I now saw the whole room, and every detail of the man. The room was rather large and warm compared to the halls. Two large backed, hand crafted chairs sat side by side facing the fireplace. A book shelf placed firmly against the wall held volumes of books and scrolls. Paintings hung on the walls and one single window hid covered by a heavy red drape, only allowing the obviousness of sunrise to show.
“Ah, I see my young captive decided to take a stroll of her new home,” The man loosened his grip on my mouth and backed away some. His dark eyes still chilled my frozen skin beyond the point of hypothermia. His long hair had been wetted and slicked back and he wore clothes of regal stature, and held himself as such. His high cheek bones stretched his thin, pale skin and made him almost somewhat handsome. He smirked arrogantly to me and I snapped back to life.
“Who are you? Why am I here?” I asked in a hurry trying not to sound scared. He stepped back and took a seat in front of the fireplace crossing his legs and stroking his chin. I slowly approached him.
“Please,” he gestured to the seat beside him, “take a seat.” I stood defiantly and curled my fingers into fists. He leaned his head against his index finger and laughed a bit.
“Fine,” He uncrossed his legs threw up his hands in frustration. I gave in to being rebellious and folded my arms for I began to feel myself shiver. Again he laughed.
“There is a fire there you know?” He mocked. I glared at him and faced the fire.
“Who are you?” I questioned. Without looking I knew he had shifted his position from an uncomfortable feeling brewing inside him. He cleared his throat before answering me.
“I am Christopher.” His name rolled off his accent.. I looked at him over my shoulder in confusion.
“No stature, just-Christopher?” I asked. He nodded slowly while keeping his eyes on me. My inner instincts were yelling, “Run you idiot!” but my body refused to move from the warmth of the fire.
“Why am I here?” I asked calmly, with determination to get more answers. The warmth began to serge up my stiff arms and loosened my joints to the point where I felt healthier than ever.
My serenity was interrupted by two hands slowly inching their way around my sides and a chill enclosing my back. I swung around and backed away almost tripping into the fireplace, but a hand reached out and gripped my forearm, pulling me back. My heart beat quickened and I opened my eyes to see Christopher smirking once again. I pushed him away and strode towards the door.
“You’re here because I wish you to be.” He said in his soft accent. My footsteps halted half way to the door. I suddenly realized what was going on.
After my parents died, since I was a woman and under the age of twenty my uncle assumed the throne and began running the kingdom. He had built the strongest and largest army in northern territory, so obviously we won many wars and battles. This in turn gave us access to many other kingdoms wealth. Hundreds of thieves saw their opportunity to get rich with a payout. Death threats began piling up; all directed towards me, and if certain criteria were not met, then I would be killed or kidnapped.
After that, I was kept under constant watch and was almost a prisoner in my own home. The first night I had been allowed out had been my nineteenth birthday. I decided to go see an opera with my aunt and cousins.
Then I had been chased by this man, and kidnapped.
“How much are you demanding from my uncle?” I asked. Instead of merely laughing, he let out a roar of laughter that caused the entire room to shake.
“My dear,” He moved closer, not even seeming to be walking, almost floating, “I have no need for money or worldly possessions,” He circled me slowly letting his fingers lightly scratch my skin and give me goose bumps, “I have all I need right here, now.” He whispered into my ear and walked away. I turned to the window and realized the sun was now up.
It was morning.
Christopher stood with his back to me and I slowly inched my way towards the door. He turned and I paused in my tracks. Before he could speak, I broke off in a brisk run out of the room down the stairs and made a mad dash for the exit, now clearly visible since my eyes had adjusted to the room’s darkness. The wood of the doors had been worn from a thick oak to only part of the door looking new. I slammed my body into the wood and began pulling at the heavy brass knob to open, but to my dismay the door was locked.
“No, God please, no!” I screamed as I still struggled in vain for freedom. The cold seemed to follow me and gave me the feeling that he was there.
“You will not have any luck with that door. It has not been used in hundreds of years.” He gawked. I began to shed tears of hatred and anger. I turned, leaned against the door, and sunk to the floor.
“I’ve been a prisoner in my own home for three years, I beg you; please let me go.” I pled. He only shook his head and turned away from me, so he would not have to watch my miserable depression.
A small hiss of pain escaped the man and I quickly lifted my head to see that a small ray of sun had escaped being covered by the thick curtain and had actually burnt him. Small steams of smoke arose from the man’s now charred skin. I stood and watched he continued to soothe his wound.
In an instant, an idea came to mind. I quickly ran to the nearest window and with all my strength, ripped the material from the metal rod far above my head. The curtain came down in a batter of dust and sunlight poured in. Christopher screamed in agony and fell to the ground.
Sunlight.
I ran to the next window and stripped it of the heavy bulk. Another hiss and more smoke. He was crawling away to the shadows. Now was my chance to escape.
On my way past the last curtain on the right side of the room I yanked the material and let the last of the morning sun in. While he was occupied I quickly climbed the stairs in hopes of finding another escape.