The two of them traveled through the halls quietly, but their silence was not awkward in the slightest. They were simply drowsy from the night prior, which had given them nothing more than a troubled sleep, and perhaps a bit of a hangover. The effects of the drink were beginning to wear off, however, and their feet were made light with anticipation. When they passed a painting of three figures, Claire stopped to admire it.

"I don't think I've seen this one before. Is it new?"

Owen snorted.

"Of course. Last night, I strolled down to the village and had it commissioned, because I can totally do that kind of thing without being shot."

"Alright, you don't have to get sassy. They look like a happy family, anyway."

Owen's eyes became distant.

"For a while, I suppose."

He shook his head.

"Anyway, the painting's not going anywhere. We should keep moving."

They rounded the corner in order to cross a hall that Claire was not fond of. Living arms held torches to illuminate the corridor, moving back and forth eerily as the two of them passed. Owen trudged on, paying them no mind, but Claire gravitated towards him, hunching her shoulders fearfully.

"This magic isn't dangerous, is it?"

"I don't think so. I've lived with it for many years, and it's never caused me any trouble."

"I'm not a big fan of the supernatural."

"Me neither. I mean, it's nice to have things done for you, but I'd rather be able to live among people, even if it means doing the laundry every now and then."

One of the arms made a sudden swoop, and Claire touched Owen's shoulder in panic. After a moment, she pulled her hand away and sneered at him.

"Are you flexing?"

"Maybe a little. Someone has to protect you from the bad, bad magic."

He puckered his beak mockingly. Claire pushed his face to the side and continued onward.

"You know, this castle suits you."

"Why? Because it's regal and majestic?"

"Because it's empty and unused, like your brain."

"Like your brain."

She rolled her eyes.

"Oh my god, you are so immature."

"I think you mean 'handsome'."

She scoffed.

"That's not exactly the word I'd use to describe you."

"Right. 'Gorgeous' is more accurate."

She groaned.

"God, you just won't let up . . ."

"Oh, come on. I know you're thinking it."

"You're very ugly."

"For a human. But am I ugly for a dinosaur?"

Claire chuckled.

"You can say a stallion is beautiful, but that doesn't mean you find it attractive."

"Ooh. I like that. I'm a stallion."

"So you're okay with being compared to a horse?"

"I use humor to mask my insecurity."

She elbowed him playfully and nodded to a door up ahead.

"Alright, open it up."

"Why can't you?"

"Because you ought to hold the door for me."

"Fair enough."

He opened the door and gave a flourish with his front foot.

"After you."

She quirked a brow, then strolled by him with her head held high. Owen smirked in response, but when he entered the room, the corners of his mouth sagged with apprehension. The walls were lined with mirrors, all of which had been covered with velvet cloths. Owen tiptoed into the room, shy as a mouse, and cleared his throat quietly.

"Claire . . . There's a reason I keep these down here."

"I know. We need them."

She marched over to the nearest one and uncovered it, letting the fabric fall to the ground with a dull thump. Grimacing, she coughed as her face was attacked by a barrage of dust. Owen barely noticed, as his head was turned. Claire waved him over.

"Come here. I'm not getting any younger."

Owen shuffled across the stone floor, looking rather ridiculous with his tail between his legs. He stood in front of the mirror, but kept his eyes fixed on Claire. She crossed her arms and gave him a sassy look.

"The goal of this exercise isn't to stare at me all day."

"I think I'd prefer that to whatever you have planned."

She smiled and grabbed him by the chin.

"I appreciate that, but we need to-"

He tossed his head as she tried to turn his face towards the mirror. She gave a puzzled frown.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing, except I hid all these mirrors down here for the express purpose of making it easier to avoid my reflection."

"What about water?"

"I try to drink with my eyes closed."

"Well, there are bound to be reflective surfaces in the castle."

He rolled his eyes.

"I'm not saying I can't look in mirrors. It's just that I don't particularly enjoy it."

"Why not?"

He gave her a long, serious look. She put her hands on her hips.

"Do you mean to tell me that you're afraid of how you look, despite the fact that you've known nothing else your whole life?"

Owen sighed.

"Don't make me do this."

She narrowed her eyes.

"Do you want to be accepted in the village, or not?"

He scrunched up his face and backed away from her.

"Isn't there some other way? . . ."

"Owen, I swear to god, if you chicken out on me, I'll drag these mirrors upstairs during your nap and scatter them all over the castle."

"Go ahead. I'll smash every single one."

"And prove that you're nothing more than a brute?"

He lowed with aggravation and draped his front foot over his face.

"What does it matter, anyway? Clearly, I'm not going to be accepted by the villagers. How are they supposed to look at me if I can't even look at myself?"

"Because I'm looking at you."

He lifted his foot slightly. Claire walked up to him, reached out, and took him by the hand.

"For days, I've been looking directly at you, and I'm not afraid."

"How can you bear it?"

"If I looked like you, would you do the same?"

"Yes."

"Then I think you know the answer."

Owen relaxed a little, but tensed up when they reached the mirror. He tried to pull his foot out of her grasp.

"That doesn't change the fact that I hate looking at myself."

"So find something you like about your reflection."

"There's nothing to like."

"You have really nice eyes."

He was stunned by her remark. He repeated the phrase mentally, scanning it for insincerity, but decided that Claire was being genuine. Still, there must be some mistake, for he was a monster, and there was nothing about him that could ever be considered nice, let alone "really nice". But she was telling the truth, or at least the truth as she perceived it.

She put her hands on his cheeks and turned him towards the mirror slowly.

"Whenever I look at myself, I try to focus on the things I like. Otherwise, I'd be ashamed of my freckles and hair instead of being proud of what makes me beautiful."

"I don't think there's anything wrong with your freckles and hair . . ."

"Thank you. I still don't hold a candle to some of the girls in the village, though."

"I don't believe you."

"Well, we'll just have to disagree on that one."

He was now facing the mirror directly. Claire continued to hold his face, but looked at their reflected images.

"There . . . That wasn't so hard, was it?"

"No, I guess not."

Claire nodded.

"Okay. We're going to practice smiling. Show me your best smile."

He contorted his face, giving a tense grin.

"Jesus, not like that!" she snorted, "Act natural."

Owen sighed.

"Smiling doesn't come naturally to me, especially around other people. Do you know how hard it is to smile when you're afraid of being slaughtered by humans?"

"Just focus on something else."

"Like what?"

She rubbed his snout tenderly. He went limp.

"There! There it is!" she whispered, pointing at the mirror, "You're doing it!"

He hummed with awe.

"I am, aren't I? Does this mean I pass the test?"

"Mhm. And now you can finally look at your own reflection."

Of course, she didn't know that he was really looking at hers.

If this were the Disney version, they'd be singing a song right now.

Let it go.

No, that's another movie.

Smartass.