Hello! Thank you to everyone for all the kind anniversary wishes, it warmed my heart to read them.

I really don't know I feel about this chapter. I feel like my writing has been slacking a little bit lately. That could be down to writer's block or I could simply be being hard on myself. I don't know, but I feel like my earlier entries were of much better quality. Hopefully things pick back up soon!

Also, for those of you who were loosing their minds about Juniper - please don't explode.

Sprite's face turned paler than usual. She tuned to look at Frank, who was smirking at her, and when she spoke her voice came out as a tiny squeak.

'Excuse me?'

'You heard me.' Frank beamed, showing off all his blinding white teeth. 'Those born of nobility have to share the bloodline. The parents of whom don't get a choice. However since only the first-born can inherit any sort of title from their parents, only the first-born has to be raised by their biological parents. Any children after that can be taken in, if the parents choose so, of course. But not to just anyone. Only the dearest of friends or trusted of applicant can take in a royal baby.'

Sprite laughed a little hysterically. Frank searched for her hands and grasped both between one of his own. She hadn't realised they were trembling.

'So you're... are you a prince?' Sprite couldn't take her eyes from the box. Handcrafted in expensive leather, the object appeared beautifully striking in the afternoon light. The lid captured her attention most of all. The glorious design stitched in exquisite detail stood out as all too familiar. The one on her bracelet which she still kept in her drawer. The one Magenta showed her on that night that seemed like a lifetime ago. The one Sprite had on her ankle.

'Not quite,' her Frankie chuckled, bring her out of her uneasy thoughts.. 'I will never be king one day, unfortunately. I'm a Count.' He tickled her from behind playfully. 'How would you like to be my Countess?'

She felt a bit woozy then - although she couldn't help giggling. She had always thought that that ridiculous cape he liked to wear made him look like a camp Dracula. What luck she never told him that.

'Are you being serious?'

'I'm very serious. Look, I'll show you.' He brought the box onto their laps and sifted his way through it. He selected a stunning silver brooch, encrusted with rubies and emeralds and all sorts of precious jewels. Sprite snatched her hand away from it at first, not wanting to get her grubby commoner hands on it.

Frank reassured her, 'You can handle it, darling, it's okay. Just be careful now.'

'I can't, I really-.'

'Go on, I'll let you. Shall I pin it on you?' Here,' he slipped the pin (even that probably cost more than her house) through the woollen material of her faded sweater and secured it with one swift movement. The thing was heavy, causing the light material to droop over her breastbone. 'There. Beautiful.' He pecked her cheek softly. 'I'd wear that if I had an official meeting to attend, or a public engagement to go to. See all the light it's catching?'

Sprite, half-blind, said, 'Mm-hmm.' Torn pieces of rainbows filtered over her frown. 'You didn't wear this to the affair last time.'

'That's because they already know who I am,' Frank grinned. 'Everyone in that room was of nobility. Most of us grew up together.'

Sprite's stomach flipped. 'Hugo had a noble title?'

The ease between them disappeared immediately. 'Yes,' Frank said in a tone much darker now. 'He was a Baron, although he would have been stripped of that by now.'

A thrill ran up Sprite's spine. She wondered what had happened to him.

'What was it like growing up for you, Frank?' Sprite had to change the subject right now before something irreversible happened. 'Was it much different to here, or...?'

'Oh it was so different, Frank agreed. The excitement in the room lifted - a story was about to be told.

'I never fully understood the term alien until I came here,' Frank began. 'I arrived and found people to be telling stories to be avoiding school, taking opioids, disrespecting their parents, not knowing a thing about mutual respect... I'd never seen anything like it.'

Her face reddened. He just described her.

Frank slung an arm around her shoulders, bringing her closer before he continued. 'All children received adequate schooling, of course, but all of mine was given to me privately. You know, I'm not even convinced there were institutional buildings for such a purpose.

'I had a wonderful tutor who used to come to our manor and give me lessons on all sorts of wonderful things. I can't quite remember her name now but she always wore fetish boots and had bright pink hair.'

Sprite guffawed.

'I took an immediate liking to the sciences, which I'm told would have immensely pleased my father, but I learned how to do all sorts under her care. My mother was a fine musician so she had me learn piano-.'

Sprite lit up. Grabbed his arm in excitement. 'You play piano?'

'Yes, little one, but I'm a little rusty these days. I chose to create sounds that were pretty and dainty - can't stand the god-awful din of drums - although I once snapped a flute clean in half because I didn't have an aptitude for it. I got in so much trouble for that, but it was worth it to see my educator beaming with pride when I eventually succeeded. I'd have done anything to please her back then. And I think I only just realised that.

'She taught me to write, to count, to read and annunciate. I didn't always sound like your Queen, I used to talk horribly when I was younger. Such a thick accent, all strong R's and harsh W's. I wasn't too bad of a sportsman - Hugo used to beat me at cricket all the time but no one could challenge my serve in tennis.'

'I was included in conversation about sex when I was around six - which was the average age for education of the sort to come about in... how would you say? Public school? To us it was just another life skill, identical to swimming or child-rearing or learning another language. It was a compulsory component of any child's curriculum from around six, like I said, to when we no longer received an education at eighteen.'

Sprite interrupted him for a second there. 'So um... how old would you have been when you... you know, the first-.'

'I put all my theory into practice at eleven, which I'll admit is a little early even for my people, but... it was never something you shouldn't do. It was something to consider and only go about doing if both - or all - of you feel ready. The maturity to make the decision and conduct oneself properly came down to education, and I had the best money could buy.'

Oh my God, Sprite, why are you blushing? You're literally thinking about pre-teen Frank! Why do you always have to go red, Sprite, you're so embarrassing!

'And when I came here I couldn't believe it. Most anyone wouldn't talk about it, half these poor saps didn't know what they were doing let alone how to do it safely, and I even heard that parents outright refuse to educate their children! I'd never seen anything so barbaric in all my life. It's such a taboo subject here - you, my darling little mouse are a prime example,' he teased, pinching one of her flushed cheeks, 'but it's no wonder so many have bad experiences. The only way to prevent confusion, harm, fear or humiliation is to talk about it. To learn, and if people can't or won't teach you then educate yourself. And with you cotton-heads making people wait until their sixteen to even think about it... no wonder people get hurt. All I can say is I'm glad to have grown up knowing what I knew then.'

Recreational times seemed to be just as fulfilling. Frank explained how there was always so much to do, and being part of nobility didn't mean he had to sit and work all day. He had a great deal of friends who all seemed to adore him (obviously - who didn't?) who got drunk together, explores themselves together, grew and learned and cried and lived together. All of this caused heartache to Sprite, but the real kicker? How proud Frank was to tell her all about the superb mother figure who guided him every step of the way.

'I said my mother didn't like me much, but I don't suppose I meant that,' Frank explained. 'She just didn't like what I represented. She hated how I wouldn't get to choose what I did with my life. I could have as many hobbies as I wanted but my career would always be tied to my planet. She really resented all the attention I got from others, because she knew all they really wanted was a chance to bear a noble child - thus trapping me by their side in the process. My mother had the same upbringing - my farther was a mixologist when they met - and the inability to trust anyone always played havoc with her.'

Sprite began to feel ill. If he was so cherished and valued within the entire planet, what could he have possibly done to get kicked out? It must have been something outside the realms of her naive imagination.

After that story time finished, he showed her everything else that was in the box. It stored a pair of his mother's earrings, an empty perfume bottle, a copy of the scroll detailing his very first order, a tiny pair of heels which must have been his first, and a plethora of adorable little mementoes. Everything had that ominous crest on it somewhere.

The last thing he showed her was another picture. This one was framed, and covered in signatures.

'Look, my darling.' Frank shifted her to hold her more comfortably in his lap. 'This is me with a group of my dearest friends on a wedding day.'

'Weddings? Sprite echoed. 'You guys get married?'

'Well, not exactly. It's very rare indeed for someone to choose one lover and stick to that lover. But everyone has their favourites.' He ruffled her hair fondly. 'We wanted a way to symbolise this - we were so proud of our fellow people, you see - and we love stealing other people's customs.'

Aw, cute. Sprite pointed to a girl in the photograph. 'Is that Magenta?'

'It is. I didn't think you'd recognise her. Pretty when she was younger, wasn't she?'

The slightly grainy girl in the picture had her frizzy hair tied up in a ponytail. Her skin was the same flawless white, her eyes the same welcoming green. Struggle and turmoil had weathered her face, but she still had the same aura of kindness and protection. She was posing next to Frank, who was holding her close as the picture was taken. Perhaps they would have undergone one of these ceremonies, had things turned out differently

'That's Amethyst , she was declaring her love for Vladimir,' Frank pointed them out in turn. Turning now to the men, he went on, 'That's Quincy, Wren, Dorian and Klaude.'

'Hugo wasn't there?'

'Not this time. And here's Magenta, Orchid, Vienna and Baudelaire. Or Beaux, as we called her.' He finished, naming all the women with a small smile. Fond, nostalgic, yet full of grief. 'It was the last picture we took as a group together. They all signed it for me before Magenta and I went off exploring.'

Sprite had the biggest grin on her face. 'They look so nice.'

'They are. You'll see that when they arrive tomorrow.'

She whipped round to stare at him. 'What?'

Frank clasped her shoulders to steady her. 'The girls are coming. Just for tomorrow then they're back home the next day. I would have told you sooner but I didn't want you to ruin our time by worrying, you'd only make it worse for yourself.'

She stared, open-mouthed. 'So now I have to-?!'

'After what happened with Hugo I didn't want you to think all my people are like that. And they're all female so you'll have lots to talk about. I want you to see us for the wonderful people we are, I didn't want our reputation to you to be ruined. I want you to meet someone to be comfortable around, and who respects you in return.'

She huffed sulkily. 'I don't suppose I have a choice, do I?'

'No.' He kissed her shoulder and lifted her onto her feet. Putting everything back in the box, he said, 'I've put some textbooks out on your desk, you can make a start on them if you want. I hate to leave you like this but I really have some work to do.' He kissed her on the forehead. 'Will you stop pestering me about my life story now?'

'Yes,' she giggled. 'Thank you, Frankie, that was really nice.

He winked at her with a fond smile. 'You know where I am, just knock if you need anything. Okay?'

She nodded and he left for the laboratory. Sprite looked away until the door locked behind him.

Sprite lay wide awake in bed. Staring at the ceiling until her eyes went funny. Even the blackest of darkness could make rainbows if one looked hard enough.

She sighed, turning on her side for the umpteenth time that night, staring dismally at the empty space beside her. It was hard enough sleeping without Frank there to hold her, never mind the five snoring dogs added to the mix.

Earnie had trotted inside and jumped up on the bed. Sprite didn't have the heart to kick the little dog out, but once he got special treatment, all the other dogs wanted more attention as well. Frank wasn't too happy with it - or her, for that matter - but he'd left twenty minutes or so after turning the lights out.

She laid still with her eyes closed, as she had done all the other nights, and Frank left as soon as he thought she was sleeping. The ominous noises omitting from the laboratory weren't allowing her to settle either.

Her pillow bore the brunt of her frustrations. Four complete strangers were rocking up here tomorrow. This was supposed to be about their time, together, yet Frank had taken the steps to make it all about him, again. How dare Frank ask her not to worry! Did he not see the state Hugo left her in? The things he did, the things had made her do? Sprite was still having bad dreams about the whole thing (Frank was oblivious to that as well, of course) and she was expected to just sit back and go along with this second attempt? How dare he not tell her!

Who did they think she was? Did they even know she was here? Or would it be one of those awful scenarios where she'd have to explain herself in front of a small group of beautiful women and set her cheeks on fire in the process? One feeling surfaced above all the others: jealousy. Frank could have had any one of them, and they all would certainly want him. All four unique, quirky and beautiful, she'd stick out like a sore thumb compared to them.

Sprite kicked the covers back in defeat. All this overthinking wasn't good for her health, and the tension was making her shoulders ache again. Drinking her favourite tea always helped her sleep. More like knocked her out on the spot, but whatever.

She turned on every light on her way to the kitchen - Sprite couldn't stand the dark. Oh man, there was only enough for one more cup. A whole four days to wait before she could ask Magenta to make more. She filled the pink cup to the brim with boiling water, stirring the concoction around for a few more seconds to release all the flavour.

Sprite was carrying the drink upstairs when something grabbed her leg.

She screamed bloody murder, barely registering the china cup slicing her skin as it shattered or the scalding hot tea all down her front, because she was too preoccupied by the fucking human hand clamped around her ankle.

The fingers (or what was left of them) were vice-like and ice-cold around her bones, loosening not one despite the hollering and kicking from its captor, who was utterly consumed with idiot terror. Bugs meandered through the puss-dripping cracks and infectious sores. The forearm protruding from the gap in the stairs wasn't much better off - parts of the bone were visible through the absence of skin. And the smell - the smell was something else. The fear and the foul odour caused Sprite to dry heave, fade in and out of lucidity, begin to convince herself that there was no danger as it was all a horrid dream.

A risky thing to do.

Because what Sprite should have been doing was putting all her focus on maintaining a white-knuckle grip on the bannister. Because if she let go of that bannister, she'd let go of her sanity. Let go of that bannister, and that rotting corpse would drag her under the floorboards to where it'd been hiding and eat her alive whilst greedy bugs crawled up her nose and into her eyes.

This harrowing image terrified poor Sprite even more, and with one final desperate heave she wrenched herself away from that ungodly creature. Her own half-mad hysterical shrieks masked the hisses of the other, and she didn't see the arm slithering away.

'Frank!' She screamed. 'Frankie! Frank!'

Frank had heard her screaming all the way from his laboratory. It startled him but he didn't address it at first, thinking she probably saw another spider or something. When all five dogs started barking, however, he decided he'd better have a look.

He opened the door just as she came flying down the corridor, drenched in tea, bleeding from multiple cuts on her body, and sobbing hysterically. She almost knocked him over with how roughly she pounced on him, and her screaming only got louder once she was in his arms.

'Fucking hell, Lessie, what is going on?!'

'There's someone in the house!' She shrilled. 'Something grabbed my leg, this person under the stairs and it was all mouldy and decrepit it was disgusting!'

'Okay, alright, shh-shh-shh.' Frank hoisted her to his waist and massaged her hair, his little one still delirious. Her entire body trembled. He crooned nonsensical noises, soothing sounds, encouraged her to breathe normally in order to calm her. 'Deep breaths, little mouse, that's it. In... and out, in... and out. That's a good girl, try and stop crying now...'

It took a while - almost ten minutes - but eventually she cooled down. She faded into silence, not loosening her grip on Frank.

'There we go, easy now...' Frank soothed. 'See? You're okay. Nothing's going to hurt you while I'm here.'

'Frankie, I swear there's a dead person living under the stairs-.'

'Okay, then let's go and look together.'

Frank manoeuvred her to cling to his back. She wouldn't dare let go now, and was still shaking too severely to walk. She curled into him even tighter, whimpering into his shoulder when they got to the stairs.

'It's alright, little one. Now what exactly did you see?'

'A hand.' She stifled a sob. 'A mouldy, rotting hand shot straight up through that hole in the stairs, and it grabbed my ankle. Frank, there's something hiding under the stairs and it tried to kill me.'

A little dramatic, my darling?

The old wood had finally given way. That staircase had been rotting for months now - he remembered warning Lessie not to step on it minutes before her first affair. She had done brilliantly that night, dear child. But the only thing under that was a cupboard - and under that was the private room. He opened the door for Lessie to see - nothing inside. All the useless shit they'd been collecting had finally been cleared out. Frank patiently explained to his troubled little mouse that had anyone been laying in wait under the stairs, they'd still be there now.

'They could've crept out, could've opened the door and-.'

'Then the dogs would have chased it,' Frank reasoned with her. 'They are specially trained protection dogs, if an intruder was in this house, those dogs would have attacked.' They looked completely docile now, all five of them. Stretching. Yawning. Pissed off at being woken up so rudely for nothing.

She whimpered. 'You don't believe me, do you?'

'I do believe you, my darling.' He didn't. 'But whatever it was, it's gone now.' Frank squeezed her hand. 'Come on, its late. Let's get you back into bed.'

Frank shifted her (he hoped this would be the last time) onto his hip and carried her back up the stairs. Only then did he realise her nightclothes were still drenched - her throat was raw, skin blotchy, eyes wet and irritated. 'Look at you, poor little lamb,' he simpered, lowering her down on to the bed. He set about carefully re-dressing her in clean clothes, brushing the dry, stiff tangles out of her hair, gliding a soothing balm across her irritated skin and having her drink warm milk, after the last of the tea ended up soaking the floor downstairs.

Maybe it was his gentle touch, the relief of the nightmare finally being over, or the numb adrenaline giving way to the sensation of severely burnt skin, but she began to cry again.

'Hey, little one, its okay...' Frank climbed into the bed beside her and gathered her up close. Pitiful, tiny sobs shook her whole body. 'Shhhh-shh-shh-shh. Brave girl, it's all over now. Don't cry now, mousy, Frankie's here...'

'It just felt so real...' her little voice was all raspy, and strained. 'It doesn't make any sense. I was there, I saw it happen, that thing grabbed my leg I can still feel the damp-.' She urged. Frank tried to stop her but she didn't listen. He massaged her back and stroked her hair. Calmed her with soothing kisses. For the moment that was all he could do. 'And now there's nothing there,' she finished on a dull note. She curled into him tighter than ever, hiding her face in his chest. 'Frankie...' she stifled a sob. 'Frankie, have I gone mad?'

Frank tutted his disapproval. 'Don't be so silly, darling, of course you haven't gone mad. There only room for one lunatic in this house.' She giggled rather hysterically. 'You've been under a lot of stress. Seen a lot of harrowing things. Had to deal with things no person should even have to think about, and all this time you haven't really had anyone to talk to, have you?' She shook her head. 'You've stored it all inside your own mind, and now it's playing tricks on you. Perhaps you had a night terror, and didn't even know you were sleeping?'

'But I went all the way down to the kitchen,' she stressed. 'How could I make a cup of tea if I was asleep?'

'I've known people to get themselves dressed and go outside during this sleepwalking. It's more common than you might think.' He smoothed some hair from her face. She was beginning to consider it. 'You spilt the tea, the scalding water woke you up, you understandably got very scared and confused, and ran to find me.'

She laid her head on his chest. 'Maybe,' she whispered, 'but whatever. I just want to forget about it.'

'Alright then, darling. Shall I sing to you?'

It took a lot more than bloody singing. A dim light left on, head massages and back tickles, calming lavender permeating the air from a heated bowl in the corner and he still had to resort to codeine just so she would shut the fuck up.

Ah well. More important things to think about now.

As even in the darkest of nights the promise of dawn beckons, Frank found himself rocketing about the house like a child on Christmas morning. Just giddy with excitement.

He hadn't properly seen any of his girls for a little over two years, and now that all four were coming at once... oh, it was just marvellous.

He couldn't wait to see his little mouse interact with them - and how that result might turn out. He'd chosen to invite those four, not only because they were amongst his dearest friends, but because they were excellent role models with an abundance of maternal instinct. Sweet Lessie yearned to be taken care of, and the girls would be just besotted with her. The mix of such strong personalities was bound to be entertaining.

Amethyst was the firework, with quick wit and even sharper tongue, and quite the intimidating appearance. She'd teach you how to win at poker and fight your corner until even the most dictatorial of figures backed away cowering. But with such a big heart, and anyone who tried to torment her loved ones would get exactly what was coming to them. No one was allowed to pick on her cherubs but her.

Orchid had earned her title as the oracle, who knew everything there was to know about everything that actually mattered. Buckets of wisdom and one too many embarrassing stories to tell. She could bail you out of it if she ever got you into it (Frank had lost count himself, everyone knew it was a bad idea to wander off with her) but always helping you discover things about yourself, and pushing you to try new things. Even if it meant coming home with your eyesight ruined or a stray goat in the backseat.

Vienna whom everyone called the void - absent most of the time but there to pull you in when you least expect it. She had quite mastered the art of being alone, and spent hours soul-searching and self-healing, so that she became the most fine-tuned and chilled out person, perhaps that their ever was. However all that knowledge of herself led to excessive knowledge of everyone else. She thrived on the company of others. She knew how to suck every last drop out of you - and for you to reap the same rewards out of her.

And Beaux. Dear, sweet little Baudelaire. The dreamer. She never quite grasped the full understand of what was going on, but she didn't really care. She floated around being sort of happy with the way everything unfolded, and that permanent (if delusional) sense of peace and happiness made the world seem just that little bit lighter. The most Baudelaire thing she ever said was: 'There's always something to look forward to. Even if it's just lunch.'

Magenta fitted perfectly into this dynamic as the visionary. She had dreams bigger than anyone could've imagined, and she wanted everyone to find their passion. She cut people wide open, she wanted to know what you desired, what you ached for, what made your heart sigh. The drive, determination and willingness to help others achieve their potential was brilliant for morale - but sometime she would go too far. Work too hard. And drag the others down with her.

Had Lessie grown up a part of this group (oh how he wished thing could have been so!), what would she have been? The thinker? The artist? The juvenile?

No. No, none of these. Frank's own greatest accomplishment would be the giver. Of hope. Trust. Beauty. Frustration. Support. Pleasure. Future, reasons, purpose. Body, mind, soul.

And when the day came, that brave, heroic, ignorant girl would give her life.

It is better to give than to receive - unless you don't receive enough. And if you're giving to the world, well. The world doesn't own you a thing.

Frank's little one would not wake up for another three hours. Come ten o'clock, she would rise to a bustling house. Of course these things didn't happen by coincidence - Frank planned everything, so neither would Lessie be conscious for their imminent arrival, nor would Frank be pressed for time to explain his current situation.

Perhaps most importantly, he'd given himself time to prepare. Imagine trying to sort everything out while a whining little mouse followed him around everywhere in the background. Unbearable.

None of the girls had ever left their planet before, and seeing as it was not only Frank's duty but Frank's god-given talent to make anyone feel completely at ease (for better or worse - from the guest's perspective), the house would need a slight makeover.

Transsexual wasn't called the Land of Night for nothing. The sky was always dark, the air was always cold. The stars always mesmerising. However the inhabitants of this most beloved planet made up for the doom and gloom with brightly coloured outfits, loud colours painted on the streets and all manner of lanterns, fairy lights, neon signs and fireworks strung up everywhere to contrast the darkness.

The castle needed to be much cooler, therefore no lit fires today. The place also had to be darker, which meant only the smallest of lights were to be used. Big ceiling chandeliers used to illuminate entire rooms would be but spectacular decoration. He'd have to go hunting, and dig out the old wall lanterns if he could remember where they were - add that fantastic powder to the orange flames to transform them into works of technicolour if possible. Columbia has brought it back from a festival once. Mystical Fire, if Frank's memory served him correctly. Rugs stripped from the stone floors, suede furniture swapped with leather, Columbia's cartoonish memorabilia to be hidden and replaced with more taxidermy, and he finally had an excuse to dig out that fabulous suit of armour. It came with a sword and shield and everything, with replicas of the royal crest dotted about subtly. It used to take pride of place in the foyer, but Magenta finally put her foot down, declaring it to be ridiculous and overly-fanciful. Columbia claimed to be scared of it.

And the phone. He had to remember to unplug that.

Magenta had worked overtime in the days leading up to her departure to prepare and freeze enough meals for the two of them. However with the hosting demands of tonight, dear Lessie might have to go hungry for a few days.

Frank hadn't the slightest clue what to serve them. They'd never eaten any of this food before. No pasta, no roasted meats, no salads, and certainly no cheese without mould. The very idea was blasphemy in itself. Transylvanians were very partial to their spicy food (anything with an intense sensation guaranteed success), so perhaps one of those curry dishes would go down well. Although to mix coriander, cumin and turmeric together and call it spice was simply moronic. They'd want to try Dorian's cooking, then they would have spicy food. Frank couldn't remember the name of the confection he chose for desert, but it meant he could suck sweet cream and sticky jam from a soft lady finger. What's not to like?

The stairs creaked under his weight as Frank set about gathering everything else. He quickly compiled a list of everything they needed doing, and had quite badly estimated the amount of tasks to complete and the length of time in which to complete them in.

The lovely girls would appreciate his hospitality regardless of the effort he put in, Frank knew that. But he wanted this to go well not just for them but for Lessie. He so desperately wanted to make this little slice of Transsexual, Transylvania to be as authentic as possible. Then he could prove to her that their home was a wonderful one, and the people even better. She could be amongst his kind without fear, genuinely want to be around them, and feel safer on the moon-drenched shores of his beloved planet than she ever did on her own.

Frank's monster-sized project had encountered a surge of productivity in the last few months. Things were rocketing along as a much faster pace than the first time around, and he even dared say less than a year would pass before he finally got to look into those cognitive blue eyes. He needed to do this now, before time ran out. She needed to acclimatise and adjust through trials and practise-runs.

How could she fulfil her purpose if she remained unprepared for a new home?

Now,' he thought with a sudden surge of pride, how to retrieve that suit of armour without making too much noise?

Frank's busy footfalls roused Sprite from her slumber. Persistent heels, clack-clack-clack on the rich wooden floor, creating a picture in her mind of his restless facial expression and compulsive muttering to himself clearer than if she had been standing right in front of him. He was making a lot of noise out there. What on Earth was he doing? All that banging, scraping, creaking, one would think he was barricading for a tornado.

She was still quite tired, and thought about laying back down and waiting for Frank's preparations to be done. But now she had awoken she wouldn't be able to go back to sleep, and sitting her overthinking everything would surely be an unhealthy start to the day.

Something scraped at the door.

Oh my god, she thought, it's that fucking thing from last night I knew it was real and now I'm going to die and Frank is going to feel really bad-.

It scraped again. Louder, more instant. A strange noise came with it. Grunting, almost.

Just go to the door, Sprite. If it isn't a half-dead zombie thing then you live another day, and if it is, then you don't have to deal with this gathering today. Win-win.

She unlatched the door with shaking hands. Frank had stopped moving about, he was too far away to hear now. Her fingers closed around the doorknob. No other noises yet. Maybe that was because it was standing outside with its hand on the doorknob, pressing its mangled ear to the door in the same way Sprite did now. Maybe it was waiting for her to open the door so it could dine on her flesh.

Noise, unexpected and loud. She jumped out of her skin, heart banging inside her rib cage. Chest and shoulders were hurting now, that honestly scared her half to death. But it sounded like... was that... a dog barking?

She opened the door to find the pug sitting there.

'Oh, Earnie!' She exclaimed, flooding with relief. The tiny little dog wagged his tail. looking up at her with those huge glossy eyes. He was so cute she couldn't stand it. She bent down to pick him up, and carried him back into the room. 'You scared me! What were you doing out there all by yourself? Hmm?' The dog sat quite comfortably in her lap, panting in that way that always made him look like he was smiling. 'You missing your mummy? She didn't take you with her, did she?' He started licking all over her face. 'Oh but that's okay you can give me as many kisses as you like...'

'Excuse me.' Frank was standing in the doorway. 'What are you doing up?'

She blinked. 'What do you mean?' She frowned. The girl should not be aware and lucid yet - but of course she didn't realise that. It was hard for Frank to take the irritating result seriously with that thing on her shoulder.

'No reason, he responded, leaning forward to kiss her forehead, 'I didn't think you'd be that keen to get started today, that's all.'

'Well, I wasn't. I'm not,' she admitted. Lifting the dog in the air again, she cooed, 'But this handsome boy wanted a cuddle, didn't you? Yes and your such a good boy!' She stuck her tongue out at Frank laughing at her. He pulled a face right back and she laughed. 'I think he misses Columbia. Maybe he needs a brother.'

It still baffled Frank how strongly she affected him. The way she looked up at him now with that butter wouldn't melt expression, a twinkle of mischief in those big blue eyes, it set about a feeling he'd never quite felt before. The sensation did something to his insides, almost made him forget what he was talking about. If he were the romantic type, he would say he swooned.

He raised an eyebrow, smirking. 'Yeah, right. In your dreams.' Poor Earnie was pushed off the bed and sent trotting away to find his friends. Sprite would have whined at him had he not began instructing her first. 'Now, since you're awake, you can either help me get the house ready, or you can stay in here and make yourself look presentable.'

Well, fuck you. My bedhead isn't that bad.

She lied.

Sprite did pull out an outfit she planned to wear (a navy button down playsuit, the colour suited her hair very well, showed a lot of leg and the soft material soothed her sensitive skin) but chucked it on her bed rather than donning it. She didn't choose to wash her face or step into the shower first. She stole out of the house as soon Frank began rushing around again - he'd never hear her in that mindset.

She half-ran, scared that Frank would spot her from the window and beat her into the beginning of next week, until she was safely concealed within the undergrowth. Her pulse began to slow. Now she could retrace her steps.

Sprite remembered the incident like it was yesterday. It wasn't a choice to run away the first time - Hugo forewarned her of Magenta's knowledge about her sibling. 'Knowing there's another part of you that she can't protect is killing her. She wants your help to intervene so you must get out before she finds you.' It was a stupid thing to believe and an even stupider thing to do, but she didn't trust him. She had to leave whether Hugo was being truthful or not because it was what Hugo wanted, and disobeying that might make the discovery real after all.

She hadn't planned on going far - just hiding until someone found her, perhaps disgruntling herself for a more believable performance - but then she found this clearing. The one she stood in right now, with the cushioned swinging bench, the floral arch, the marble birdbath, the elegant statues. The serene, tranquil space that would have remained hidden had she not brushed past the vines and found nothing on the other side. The natural corridor led her here - but it seemed she was not the first.

Another had found peace here before her. Another had wound fairy-lights around the head of the bench - solar lights, so they'd work in the dark and envelope them in a sea of stars. Another had hung crystal-carved creatures from the birdbath - fairies, bees, dolphins, dragonflies. All in different colours and each slicing rays of sunlight into thousands of pocket-sized rainbows. Another had settled into the routine of taking a nap or perhaps spent every night here on this seat - a small, dry alcove occurring by stone contained thick blankets, firm pillows, even an eye-mask or two in there. Both fashioned from white silk with a lace trim. One had the crude phrase 'fuck off' stitched into it in perfect cursive, while the other displayed a simple 'Zzzzz' accented with stars and clouds.

Upon discovering this little sanctuary, Sprite felt like she'd found the Garden of Eden, without any snakes, rotten apples and certainly no other people - gross - to ruin her time. She simply sat there and waited until Riff Raff came and found her. Somehow she knew it would be him. Somber and silent as always, he merely helped her up and walked her back to the house. But not before, carefully out of earshot and sight of the castle before them, saying something that oddly stuck with her.

'If you want to come back here again,' he suggested in that nasally upper-class tone of his, 'I implore you to wait until there's no one available to find you.'

It didn't make any sense at first, but now, standing here again in her nightwear, it all became clear.

Riff wanted her to come back. He hadn't known Sprite would find this place but once she did, Riff wanted her to find it again, and not just for a few minutes, to be there. Without even seeing her leave, somehow Riff knew to check there first. Once his (however farfetched) intuition had been correct, he had instructed her, in not so many words, to visit again. She didn't succeed the further two times she tried. The third time she didn't even make it off the front porch. So, taking Riff's cryptic advice, she decided to wait.

Hugo had gone. The others were sent away. For a while it was just her and Frank but now that this reunion was underway Frank was too preoccupied to pay her any attention.

Had Riff Raff known this would happen? Had he been forewarned about Frank sending them away, or was he simply crossing his fingers and hoping for a coincidence?

'Wait until there's no one available to find you.'

Well, unless there was some giant warning sign she could not see, Sprite put her thinking cap on and began searching. For she had done enough waiting.

'Oh, holy shit, why is it so dark in here?'

Sprite almost blinded herself strolling back in the door, and cried out to thin air. Frank's audible footsteps still creaked around upstairs. Her intuition proved to be correct - he hadn't even noticed she'd gone.

It was clear he'd worked hard. The whole place was transformed, looking more medieval and gothic than ever. One would be forgiven for thinking actual vampires lived here. Any trace of humans having stepped over the threshold had been completely eradicated - apart from the one standing in the middle of the gloomy room, but whatever.

Impressing Frank's friends was important to him, Sprite understood that. But if he was going to prioritise that above all else and push her to one side, well - she was just going to have to distract him.

She jogged up the stairs, eager to put more layers on to keep out the cold. Her immediate choice would have been a cozy jumper and thick leggings, but she would never get away with that. She represented Frank's work now. She had to make an impression.

Aside from the aforementioned oversized, cozy articles that were only really supposed to be worn to bed, everything in her wardrobe served to please Frank. A simple jeans and a t-shirt kind of day didn't exist anymore. All the tops were either cropped, off-the-shoulder or sheer. Corsets came in all shapes and colours, but she had yet to wear one on a normal day. Trouser material consisted of shiny leather, velvet, ripped denim or the classic fishnet stockings and garter belt. If it was a hot day and she wanted to keep cool, it was mini skirts, hot pants or nothing. Dresses were either backless, strapless or sleeveless, and never came below the knee. These came in either pastel shades with lacy patterns or rich, dark leather with sweetheart necklines. Sprite selected one of these in a deep black colour, hanging up her navy playsuit for another day. Peter Pan collared playsuits completed the plentiful ensemble - there was not enough time to delve in to the underwear.

She draped her pink silk robe with a blue oriental dragon on the back (she had a matching one with Frank, except his was black and the dragon, gold) over a chair, and pulled out a folded sheet of paper from her lingerie. A souvenir she had found in the clearing, almost wet herself in disbelief, and shoved it down her top before anyone caught her.

She hadn't known what she was looking for at first. Riff might have been throwing her off the scent by sending her here. He might only have been encouraging her to come here when she felt overwhelmed. He might have been trying to get rid of her by setting a booby trap for next time she came. Sprite was aware of all of these things. However she didn't let that stop her. The situation she found herself in was too coincidental to ignore. It seemed she was meant to be there. And she hardly expected to find Juniper was here scrawled on to the bench, but she had faith in herself to find something.

And find she did.

It came about through a passing fancy of taking a nap while she had the time, which led her to reach into the little alcove storing the blankets and sleeping masks. She shrieked when she felt the box, a sound that kind of ripped itself out of her, and tore it open like a wild animal. There was nothing special about this box - no label, no name, no design stitched on the lid. And the object inside seemed rather unnoteworthy too - a singular page of sheet music.

Now, Sprite knew nothing about sheet music. She could not read it, nor could she understand a single aspect of it. But the quality of this piece seemed to be taking the piss.

The pencil lead of the handwritten dots and lines were so faded they were hardly there at all. The piece had not been titled, nor had a composer been credited. The song only filled one page, but the length, tempo, melody and complexity remained a mystery to Sprite.

After that enlightening conversation yesterday, Sprite knew the only way to find out more - if there was any more to find out, that is - was to have Frank play it.

And with him dashing around, muttering to himself, barking orders at thin air like the Queen was coming for tea, that did not seem feasible at all.

Sprite put it out of her mind for now, stepping into the bathroom to begin her daily routine. She was half way through applying her so-called 'sophisticated' makeup when the phone rang.

The sound was foreign to her at first. That phone never rang. Sprite had not known it was there until they used it to send Hugo away. Who on earth could be-?

She gasped out loud. Maybe it was Magenta calling them! Perhaps she was on the other side, waiting to tell Sprite about all her adventures? She flew down the stairs, ready to pounce on it and finally hear Magenta's kind voice. It had been so long and she'd missed her so much, she couldn't wait to-.

'Don't you touch that phone!'

Sprite's body went tumbling out of Frank's way before she could even scream. He sprinted up behind her, seemingly out of nowhere, and shoved her into her far wall just before her fingers closed around the phone to answer it. She bashed her head on the unforgiving stone walls and sat down on the floor in a heap. Scared, bewildered, and not a clue what just happened.

The ringing in her ears prevented her from hearing Frank's words even if she could understand the language. Corseted back facing her, left hip dropped, black curly head down, angled away from her quivering form somewhat abrasively. That mesmerising alien tongue sounded worse in long sentences. She couldn't decipher the topic nor tone of the conversation - the only coherent aspect came when Frank took the receiver away from his ear, meaning they had said goodbye.

She got up and ran. She was not going to entertain him after flinging her like that.

'Lessie! Lessie, come back darling, I didn't mean to frighten you,' he followed her up the stairs, voice oozing with concern and guilt. 'Please, mousy, it was an accident, I only-.' He scoffed at her bedroom door slammed in his face. The lock clicked, but they both knew he could easily break the door down if it came to that.

'You didn't have to shout at me like that!' She said, her own voice thick and uneven with tears. 'And shoving me into the wall, that really hurt!'

'I didn't want to hurt you, my lamb, but it was for your own good. You know how dangerous other people can be. Anybody could have been on the other side, what were you thinking?'

'I thought -.' Her voice cracked, feeling more childish than ever. 'I thought maybe it was Magenta calling us.'

A deep sigh followed. 'Darling...' Frank cooed, 'are you missing her?' She said she was. 'Well if you come out we can talk about this, and... perhaps contact her tomorrow evening?'

Tomorrow evening was ages away, but Sprite couldn't stay in here much longer without Frank getting angry. So, she stepped sheepishly out of the room and let Frank embrace her, nuzzling into his chest despite the rough surface of his shimmery corset.

'Forgive me, my love, I didn't mean to make you cry. I can't bear to see you upset, and you can't ruin your lovely makeup! Oh look, you've only got one eyebrow on.'

She laughed as he titled her chin up, gently wiping away the last of her tears without smudging the dark product on her eyes. Frank pretended to apologise a little more, checking her head and simpering over his favourite little one.

She quietly explained the phone call interrupted her makeup routine, then Frank dragged her back to her room by the hand to help her finish getting ready.

'Look at you, getting all fancy!' Remarked Frank, stroking the dress she'd hung up on her wardrobe door. 'I'll find you some accessories, shall I?' Frank asked the question whilst already searching through her drawers and jewellery boxes. Sprite had been concentrating on drawing on her right eyebrow so hadn't really been paying attention. She turned around to see a pair of large pentagonal silver earrings, a silver ring adorned with a huge onyx stone encircled by sparkly diamonds, and a matching statement necklace. The stones were carved to resemble flowers. Frank wanted to dress her up like a doll tonight.

'Okay, I was worried that dress would be too much but now I feel differently,' she commented. 'I'm not going to be able to move with all of that jewellery on.'

'Worry not, darling, you'll look fabulous,' Frank declared, stepping behind her to clasp the ostentatious necklace. He advised her to add volume to the shirt with a black petticoat, and tossed one on to her bed.

'Do you still have your bracelet, flower?'

Pulling the undergarment up to her waist, she responded, 'Yes, it's in the top drawer. Inside a little rectangular-shaped thing.'

The sound of the friction came first, then a pause. Then, a slightly bewildered (an extreme rarity for Frank, she might as well start running now), 'Little mouse, what on Earth is this?'

She turned, fastening an earring, to see Frank holding the piece of sheet music in his hand.

'That?' She squeaked. 'Oh that, that's... I- I wrote that.'

Frank cocked an eyebrow at her blatant lie. 'You wrote this?'

'Mm-hmm.' She hope her face wasn't as red as it felt. She went on to explain that after hearing of Frank's pianist skills, she decided to write him something, after studying music at school. Another huge lie. 'It's quite faded because I started to erase it - I didn't think it was any good.'

'Well I do!' Frank frowned at the composition with a sense of vague impression. 'You shouldn't be so hard on yourself, little mouse, and it's such a thoughtful gift. Thank you, flower.'

His eyes lit up as if he had an idea, then grabbed a pen and scrawled something on the page. Sprite took it from Frank's outstretched hand to see it had been titled.

A Sky Full of Flowers. Hmm.

Sprite cursed when the doorbell rang.

Frank lit up, his face the picture of excitement. He quickly knelt down in front of her, to soothe her before he let the women in.

'Listen, my lamb, Frank began, adjusting her hair and smoothing down her clothes, 'I'm going to invite them in now. You don't have to come down immediately, you can stay in here until I've settled them, but when I ask you to follow me downstairs, you do it, okay?'

'Mmm.' She hung her head, nervously toying with the hem of her dress. 'Fine.'

'Lessie, they aren't going to hurt you-.'

'You said that last time.'

'Now you listen to me,' Frank employed his stern disciplinarian voice, holding her a little tighter. 'Hugo was... a mistake. He fooled us all, even Riff Raff never saw it coming. And I will do everything in my power to ensure you never have to go through anything like that again. My people, we're not like that - one bad apple doesn't make the whole batch rotten, or wherever it is you say. Let me prove that to you.'

The bell sounded again.

'You should answer the door,' she whispered.

'You've been upset with me, haven't you?' Frank squeezed her shoulders. For pushing you to one side?'

She huffed guiltily, murmuring, 'No'.

'Well, you're right,' he continued. 'I could have had any one of them. I still have free reign now, I could pick anyone I want and they'd follow me to my bed without question.' Tapping her on the nose with each syllable, he concluded, 'But I chose you.' He smothered a kiss to her forehead. Standing up, he instructed, 'Now please behave, and I'll come and get you in a few moments.' He flashes a winning smile and slipped out of the room, waiting until he was far enough away to sprint down the stairs like an excited child.

Wrapping his fingers around the cool door handle, suddenly Frank got a bit nervous. What if they had changed during their long hiatus? What if they weren't impressed, and left telling everyone what a terrible host he'd become? Worst of all, what if Lessie refused to comply and stated cowering in her room, rendering the whole operation useless and soiling his respectable reputation in the process?

He heaved the groaning door back to reveal the three - three? Where was vivacious Amethyst? - women he knew so well. Vienna with the body-painted bare feet and highlighter-yellow cornrows. Orchid dressed entirely head to toe in her namesake colour of pink, from the entire heist worth of jewellery to her even-brighter pink mohawk. And Baudelaire, who had worn a flowing ombré piece of sheer lilac for the occasion, showing her entirely uncovered figure underneath. She had swept her cosmic blue hair into loose plaits that hung to her waist, and was stroking and smiling at the gargoyle when Frank looked at her.

This mental re-introduction lasted all but three seconds - then they stared screaming.

All three girls dived at him at once, almost knocking him flat over the threshold. They squealed and laughed, Frank desperately trying to hold three ecstatic girls under two arms, whilst being attacked with fierce hugs and firm kisses.

He managed to properly greet Orchid first, after everyone had calmed down. He could hear the other two laughing at them while they squeezed the life out of each other. He did the same to Vienna and Baudelaire, then asked the most obvious question.

Hello hello, quick note from Alma here. From now on everything written in italics is spoken in this Transylvanian dialect, because I'm not Tolkien and I can't invent a whole other language. Happy reading!

'Where's Amethyst?'

'Oh I knew it wouldn't get to you on time!' Orchid sighed. 'She can't come. She was devastated but she has some - things to sort out. She sends her love, however, and is really happy for you that you have... someone.'

Ah. Well that would have been Lessie. He skirted around the subject in his letter, and they seemed elated with the idea. Even now he could sense their excitement at meeting his little pet.

'But,' Orchid continued, 'that doesn't mean to say we're the only ones coming here today.'

He frowned suspiciously. 'What do you mean?'

'Oh nothing.' Vienna had joined in now, smirking at him with a delightful glint of mischief in her green eyes. 'We're not hiding anything, right Beaux?'

The whimsical one shook her head with a huge grin on her face. Beaux was never able to keep a secret, especially if it excited her. Considering how much she adored Frank, he could get around her in no time.

Frank changed the subject, inviting them to take a seat and make themselves comfortable. They complimented the decor, asked after Magenta and Riff Raff, and tossed around a few stories of their own which had happened while they had been separated.

It didn't take long for Baudelaire to settle into his lap.

'Aw, she won't let you go now,' laughed Vienna, 'that's all she's been talking about.' Frank chuckled, kissing Beaux's hair. 'Driving us crazy, wasn't she Orchid? When are we going to see Frankie, can we see Frankie today, I'm so excited to go and see Frankie!'

Frank whispered, 'What are they hiding from me, precious? Hmm?'

She giggled. 'Nothing.'

Frank raised an eyebrow and her smile widened. Her grip tightened even further around his neck, hiding away in his shoulder the way Lessie always did. The resemblance between the two were uncanny. He had to figure out a way to integrate her into the conservation without leaving it too late. He'd wait a little while longer, he decided, and the next natural lull in the noise would call for her introduction.

He phased back into the conversation to Vienna and Orchid laughing.

'That was not me, it was totally Hugo's fault for-!' She stopped mid-way through the humorous tale, a look of awful recollection dawning on her face. 'Oh my god, I heard what happened!' By now both other girls had remembered and were listening intently as well. 'How the fuck did that come about?'

Frank cleared his throat. 'You heard?'

'Well... not exactly,' Orchid went on through her unease. 'We were all so jealous he got to stay with you, and then one day we had a court official crash our sleepover and tell us that we'd never see Hugo again.'

'What did they tell you?'

'That he'd committed a crime. We heard that you ordered to have him taken away, so we knew it must have been outrageous.' Orchid smiled sympathetically. 'You too love each other, didn't you?'

Frank nodded. He looked around the room to find all the girls giving him looks of sympathy. Oh fuck he couldn't get upset in front of them, not when he had Lessie to care for as well...

'Look,' Frank's voice was hard as stone, 'if I tell you this now, it stays strictly between us four and the walls. Understand?'

Darkly excited nods all round. Little Beaux was squeezing onto his hand.

Frank took a deep breath, and explained everything. It was a long story, he almost broke down a few times, but he managed it. By the end, everyone had tears either sparkling in their eyes or trickling form their cheeks.

'Oh my god...' Baudelaire's voice wobbled. 'Hugo did that? Our Hugo?'

'Oh, I'm afraid so, sweetheart,' 'Frank sighed. 'Betrayed us all. I just... I should have notice something was wrong, I should have seen it coming!'

'Hey, Frank, don't do that,' Vienna scolded. 'No one would have expected that from Hugo, it wasn't your fault.' She reached over and patted his knee comfortingly. 'So the girl,' she said in an attempt to brighten the mood, 'is she still here?'

'Yes, she's upstairs. She got all dressed up, she's so excited to meet all of you.' That was a small white lie. 'I think I want to keep her.'

All their eyebrows shot up.

'That's a big step, Frank,' warned Vienna. 'Besides taking her from her whole life, you'd have to go through checks, assessments, quarantine, court trials-.'

'I know that,' Frank interrupted rather defensively. 'I'm prepared. Would you like to meet her?' They were elated to do so. 'Excuse me, Beaux, I'm sorry darling...' he shifted Baudelaire onto the seat next to him and stood up to collect his little mouse. Beaux, he saw, had gone to sit with Orchid instead.

Oh, Lord, he thought to himself, please let this go well.

He opened the door to find Lessie standing (albeit, anxiously) to full attention.

Her dear face scrunched. 'Do I have to go now? Can't you just wait a few-?'

'Mm-mmm. No chance, you heard what I said.' Frank used a firm hand to escort her towards the stairs. 'You have to learn one way or another, you'll never get anywhere if you don't.'

Sprite more or less held it together until the three girls came into view.

'Oh no, I can't, I can't,' she squealed whilst trying to run away.

Wrestling her away from him, he called, 'Lessie's here!'

She glared at him and he glared right back.

'Oh, come on through then, darling, we don't bite,' Orchid said.

'Much,' snickered Vienna.

I really had no idea where to end this but it was getting really long. Hopefully the ending wasn't too abrupt.

In other news, I'm going to a Rocky Horror screening tomorrow! I'm so excited! Woo! Can't wait to see everyone dressed up, it's going to be so much fun!

Alma Oakley