Prologue
Francoeur
Everything was new to him. Every sound, smell, shape and taste brought a completely new level of experience. It was exciting and fresh. He felt as if he had never lived before. Each new thing brought with it another joyful discovery.
But life would be too easy if everything was like that. Some discoveries hurt. For instance, touching the fire was not a good idea. Or love.
Lucille was always there to explain things to him, guide him, protect him. She was his best friend. She was his unrequited love. His first and only love.
At first he hadn't understood what was happening to him. He had thought it was a normal thing, among friends. But with more books read, movies watched and one talk with Maud later he finally realized what the pain he felt when Lucille was away or with Raoul meant. What was the source of his happiness once she was with him; dancing, singing and laughing with just him.
What he also understood was that they would never be together. Raoul was his friend and loved Lucille, and she loved him back. They were going to get married. And Francoeur, well… Francoeur was not human. He might be 7 feet tall, disguise himself as a human, sing and dance but… that would never make him human. One was never so close to the goal, yet, never so far away from it. Being human… how he yearned for this.
The Duchess
She was something of a legend, told only by whispers. Mysterious, seductive, dangerous. She was known by the titles of Black Widow, Witch and Duchess. She used the last one, or more usual names, like Margaret, Annie, Jacqueline. Many have heard of her but few have seen her, and even fewer had lived to tell the tale. Always young and beautiful, always to be feared.
The idea to return to Paris was spontaneous. She already had an estate there waiting for her, and she had to relocate anyway. People started to suspect something and sniffing around. It was about time.
The Monster incident happened before she arrived, and to tell the truth, she did not care too terribly much about what had gone on in the first place. At the moment, she had much more important things to do. Servants to find… She wasn't picky, really. All that mattered was their youth and good looks. Social status wasn't a problem. She has seen peasant boys handsome like princes, and princes that looked like pigs.
His name was Anton. Sweet, young Anton. Sixteen years old, bright blue eyes, shiny, golden hair. An orphan. More of a boy than a man. He was working part time in a shop and was an honest, charming person. Very sweet, very naïve. Fascinated with this older Mademoiselle, whom had shown an interest in him. He was just too perfect, this was just too easy… By the end of the week, he was hers.
Hello there. Here is my new story! Isn't it terrific? I'm not dead!
So be nice, and review. The more reviews I get the quicker I write ;D
