January 19th, 1767
Matthieu woke pleasantly on the sofa. Catherine was curled up on the other side, her feet tucked under her and her hair draped over her arm. She was so beautiful to look at. Her hands were delicately folded over each other. He finally knew how soft they were when they stroked his cheek. She was so gentle with everything. It was hard not to admire her. He raked back his hair. This posed a number of problems, more so for her.
This affectionate touch was marvelous, miraculous even. Yet he felt her flinch as he drifted off to sleep. Could she be realizing what she was doing? He shook his head. He supposed it was for the best. Her, to fall in love with a creature like him, would only hurt her. If she did somehow love him, what would that mean for him? Would he marry her and spend his life with her?
He pushed those thoughts away. He couldn't hope for too much. He couldn't bear it. He gazed at her sleeping form a bit longer. She was still wearing his scarf from last night, cuddling into it for warmth. He swatted away the idea of holding her close to him and simply pulled a small blanket from under the sofa. He draped it over her, smiling as she snuggled into it.
January 23rd, 1767
Sunlight poured into the old ballroom. The air looked like fairy dust from the lack of use, but Catherine didn't mind for now. She swirled her skirt around carefully.
"What do you think?" Matthieu inquired.
She looked up at the ornate white wood and gold decor. "It's beautiful." She moved over to the stairs leading into the room. "It's a shame it's been out of use for so long."
"Oh, I've never used it before." He waved some dust away from his face. "Never had a reason to. You know, since no one has been here in years."
"Well, it could be made into some good use," she offered.
"MY KINGDOOOOOOM FOR A HORSE!" George flew down the bannister and launched into the center of the ballroom, starfish-spinning on the dusty floor. Melinoe scampered over to check on him.
"Well, now we don't have to clean the floor," Matthieu said in approval. Catherine giggled. He ducked his head, a smile creeping up his face.
"Can you either marry the girl or see a doctor, because I don't think healthy people should be turning that colour, Master~." George smirked at them from where he was laying.
Matthieu clenched his hands in front of him. "I'll wring you dry!"
Before he could do that, George rushed past him and slid down the bannister again. He crashed into a pillar, laughing. Matthieu shook his head, but Catherine ran up the stairs and sat at the top of the bannister. Matthieu looked up.
"No, not you too!"
"What?" she innocently. "I've always wanted to do this, but my aunt never let me."
"Do it, Catherine!" George cheered. "Do it! Do it! Do it!"
"No!" Matthieu protested, but Catherine whizzed past him and landed on the floor, sliding ten feet away from him. He ran over to her with a look of concern on his face. She laughed. "Angel, are you hurt?"
"Matthieu, I'm fine."
"Come on, Master!" George stroked Melinoe's back. "Try it! Have some fun for once."
He looked back to Catherine. She smiled encouragingly. He sighed. "Fine." He stood up and climbed back up the stairs. He sat at the top of the bannister, eying the way down cautiously. "I don't see the point in this. Won't I get hurt?"
"Where's the fun in staying safe?" George asked.
Matthieu turned to Catherine. She nodded. "You'll be fine. Give it a try."
He held in a breath and his feet left the floor. He yelled on the way and slid a fair distance, snagging Catherine's dress and pulling her with him. He groaned. "I'm sorry..."
She giggled. "Don't be. I'm alright." She pushed herself to her knees. "But you don't have to do that again if you don't want to."
"Are you joking?!" George cried, jumping in front of them. "That was amazing! Haha! If only there were a way for me to see it again. Something to capture that moment in time so I could watch it over, and over, and over again! Something like this should be documented for the world to see!"
As he rambled, Matthieu raised his hand to his forehead, his eyes growing distant.
"Matthieu? Are you alright?"
"Hm?" he snapped his head up, his eyes glazed over. "Oh, I'm alright. Just a...a bit of a head-rush."
She brushed some hair from his face, tucking it behind his ear. His eyes fixed on her, his cheeks flushing red. George came over beside them. "Watch this." He began scratching Matthieu's side. "Who's a good master? Lie down."
Matthieu's leg twitched, and he fell back, laughing uncontrollably. George continued to scratch his stomach. "Who's a good boy? Yes, you are. You're a good boy."
"YOU ARE IN SO MUCH TROUBLE! AHAHAHAHAHA!"
Catherine sat at the top of the bannister again, after about an hour of prying Matthieu away from George. Now, she was glad he was simply talking to him. George groaned at being scolded at, but she was there to make sure he behaved.
In the middle of their conversation, he acquired a rawhide bone from his vest. Matthieu's gaze fixed on it intently. George tossed it into the middle of the ballroom, prompting Matthieu to chase after it. He slipped on the floor, trying to reach the bone that sat unmoving on the floor.
"I may be smiling," he laughed. "but I assure you, I am very angry! Hahaha!"
George laughed. Catherine slid down the bannister carefully and came up beside him, giving him a disapproving look. George groaned again as Matthieu returned and threw the bone angrily at the ground.
"Do not. Throw. That bone! Aga - " George swiftly picked up the bone and threw it. Matthieu spun around in delight. "Oh yay!"
The boy laughed harder than before.
"George!" Catherine admonished.
He sighed. "Fine, I'll stop."
"Thank you."
The bone scattered somewhere behind the pillars. Matthieu knelt on the ground, his smile receding. He held his head again, as if he were dizzy. Worried, Catherine rushed over to him. "Matthieu? Are you sure you're alright? You don't look well."
"I'm...I'm fine, just..."
"Have you taken your elixir today?" she asked.
He nodded. "Don't worry about me, Catherine. I'm just...just a bit tired." He started to stand, but he fell back suddenly. He moaned in pain, holding his wrists. Catherine watched in horror as his hands began to grow and twist painfully into paws. She seized him by the shoulders.
"George! Get his elixirs! NOW!"
He flew from the room, leaving Catherine with Matthieu. She drew his face towards hers. "Matthieu. Matthieu, look at me. Look at me, you know me. You know me; Catherine!"
His eyes flickered from green to yellow and back, his teeth grinding to hold back the fangs pushing past his lips. His paws held her arms for support, squeezing them so hard she thought he'd break them. His eyes held shut in pain as his body stretched. His feet tore out of his shoes, leaving them broken on the floor.
George raced back in with a satchel slung over his shoulder. He slid over, dumping out large vials of violet liquid. Catherine quickly uncorked one and shoved it into Matthieu's mouth. He drank it straight down and spat out the vial. Hair began to sprout on his face and neck. She uncorked another and poured it down his throat. Again, he continued his slow, painful metamorphosis.
"Why isn't it working?!" she cried.
His eyes rolled back into his head and he fell onto his back, looking more like a turtle caught on its shell. He continued to scream in agony, his voice distorting into growls and howling. Tears streamed down her face as she desperately tried to uncork another vial. George sat paralyzed behind her. She finally freed the cork from the bottle and drained it into his mouth. The majority ran down his face as it snapped and remolded into a lupine muzzle.
"Matthieu!" she sobbed. "Matthieu, come on! Matthieu, please. Please, come back!" She held his thin, writhing body to her. His claws dragged slowly down the back of her dress. "Please, come back. Don't lose control; come back!"
His grip on her slacked, his arms returning to the floor as he fell limp. His limbs shrunk back to their proper place, his body becoming fuller, and his face returning to normal. He gasped for air, grasping his clothes that were now little more than tatters. She put her hands to his cheeks, his body trembling like a leaf.
"Matthieu, wake up," she urged. "Please, please, wake up."
His eyes flickered open. "Catherine..."
She sobbed and pulled him into an embrace. "Matthieu, Dieu merci! You're alright! You're alright!"
"C-Catherine...Mademoiselle...Angel...I, what - ? When - ?"
"You frightened me, Matthieu."
He buried his face into her hair, trying to comfort the beautiful creature in his arms. He now became aware that his clothes were torn, and she was crying hysterically. He wrapped his arms over her back, meeting cold, exposed skin. He peered over her shoulder in horror at the deep slashes in her dress. They had not broken her skin, but he'd come terribly close. What had he done?!
She pulled back, taking his face in her fingertips. Tears streamed down her face.
"Catherine, have I...have I - ?!"
"No!" she assured. "No, I'm not hurt. Matthieu, what's happening? Are you sure you've taken your elixir?"
"Yes!" he affirmed. "I remember taking it this morning. I don't know what happening! I - " He noticed the three empty vials beside them, and George clutching a large satchel. "How many...Oh no. God, no!"
"Matthieu?"
He pulled himself to his feet, struggling to keep his trousers on. He need to get away, away from here, away from her. He limped up the stairs and out the door, ignoring her desperate calls to him.
He fell into the foyer and crawled back to his rooms, barricading himself in his sacred place. He had to be sure Catherine had not followed him. He couldn't bear to let that happen again. He'd come so close to killing her, and even though he knew she was more than capable of protecting herself, he couldn't live with himself if she died by his hand.
"What are you doing?!"
He gripped the doorknob. "I don't want to talk to you."
The witch's voice echoed from the pool. "Too bad! What now? You're just going to run away from her?!"
"I need to protect her," he explained. "And I'd appreciate it if you'd leave me be!"
"You're pushing her away. You're hurting her."
"So long as she's safe!" He fell to his knees. "You couldn't possibly understand. I have to keep her alive. I need to keep her safe!"
"Then why don't you ask her the obvious? Why don't you make her leave?"
"I can't!" he moaned. "I can't, I...You could never understand the situation you've put me in."
She was silent for a moment. "Do you love her?" He said nothing. "I asked you a question, young lord. Do you love her?"
A sickening creak came from his hand. The doorknob snapped off its bolts and molded in his hand like clay. He whirled around, eyes widened and yellow with anger, and thrust the metal knob into the water. Her image disappeared. He fell to his knees, anger welling up inside him. He cursed this witch for doing this to him. He cursed his family, his family whom he'd never had a chance to love. Most of all, he cursed himself.
If he weren't such a coward...he sighed. He hated to admit that he needed this girl. But her presence made him feel like he was worth something, that his existence wasn't completely meaningless. The way she spoke, the way she moved, the way she touched him...she was so gentle. The entire world lit up when she entered the room. He wanted to have that all the time.
He wasn't sure if that was love or a selfish desire to keep her close in spite of the danger he posed to her.
"Matthieu?"
He spun around. Catherine stood in the doorway. Matthieu cowered like a dog, unwilling to let her see him in this state.
"Leave me be," he begged. Her hand settled on his shoulder. "Catherine, please. I'm a danger to you. Can't you see that?! I'm...How can you possibly live here knowing what I am?"
She bid him to look at her. "I know exactly what you are."
He lowered his head in shame.
"You're a man who is frightened of himself."
He blinked, and shook his head furiously. "No, I'm...I-I-I'm a monster! I've taken innocent lives and ruined countless others. I've treated you horribly. You could have died because of me, and I don't have anyone to blame but myself! Tell me I'm wrong!"
She stared at him calmly, waiting for him to relax a bit. She glanced at the ring around her finger and, to his shock, slid it off and set it aside.
"Catherine."
She pressed her hand to his mouth to silence him.
"There is a great deal you haven't told me. And, some parts of it I have no right to hear. But it sounds to me like if we don't talk this through, this may never recover." She brushed some hair from his face and tucked it behind his ear. His heart skipped a beat. "Now, tell me. Did you want these people dead?"
"No!" he exclaimed.
"Do you remember killing them?"
He shook his head. "No, not completely."
"Matthieu, when you change into La Bete, that is not you. You have no control, and that is not your fault."
He cast his eyes away from her. "I'm cursed for a reason, Angel."
She sighed. "I thought as much. But, do you think you deserve this punishment?"
He held his arms over his chest to hold his emotions. "No...but yes. I was not a good man in my youth."
She took hold of his hands, staring at them uncertainly before returning her focus back to him. "I was able to see that when I arrived. You were angry, but not towards me. And, you knew no other way." He bowed his head and nodded. "I don't care who you were, Matthieu. What matters is who you are and who you want to be."
He peered down at their hands. "Catherine, without my elixir, it won't matter who I am. And what I will be is a monster." He squeezed them gently. "Catherine...I'm dying. With each time I transform, the less control I have. And, some day very soon, I may never come back."
She shook her head in disbelief. "There must be a way to break this curse on you. Every curse has an escape clause, so there must be one for you!"
True love, the witch said. He contemplated telling her the truth, and perhaps breaking the curse now with a stroke of good luck. But he didn't, and not to trick her or use her in any way. This burden was not hers to bear. She was no tool to his enchantment; she was his friend. He had to spare her from this.
"Death," he answered.
"You're lying!" she hissed. "I know you are. How can you talk of yourself like this?!"
He shook his head despairingly. "It's what I am, Angel."
"Matthieu."
He slowly moved to embrace her, burying his face into her soft hair. "I'm sorry, ma amie."
She clutched him tightly to her. "But, you're still here now. I can't leave you yet."
He smiled at her dedication. How she could see any goodness inside him, he could never understand. But he hoped that, even during his last moments, he could give her some happiness here.
