Whumptober 2022 Prompt No. 19: Knees Buckling & No. 14: Desperate Measures
The trail led past a large manor. A half-wall, nearly hidden in rose bushes, bordered the property. A woman crouched low beside it as she examined the fragrant flowers. Her clothing was clean but worn, patched in several places.
As he drew closer, she glanced up, startled. She was beautiful, though she did not strike him quite the same way as the raven-haired Cassima.
Before either of them could say a word, the door to the manor opened to reveal a short, heavy-set woman.
"You lazy thing! Get back to work and stay away from those roses! I've told you a million times, those flowers are too sweet for the likes of you! You've still got to do the breakfast dishes, make lunch, and clean the stables yet this morning! And get your veil back on! No one wants to look at your face!"
"Yes, stepmother," the golden-haired maiden stated, her voice quiet and resigned as she pulled her veil over her face and followed the older woman back into the house.
Alexander found himself using the wall as support; his legs were unsteady as recollections of similar insults and orders flooded uninvited into his mind.
Pain flared in one of his hands, and he focused on it, gripping his hand harder, desperate for anything that would keep him from sinking further into the memories.
His breathing finally eased, and he lifted his hand to look at his bloodied palm. A rose thorn had embedded itself in his skin. He plucked it out mindlessly; his thoughts focused on what he had just witnessed.
Slavery. The Land of The Green Isles harbored slavery within its beautiful shores. What other conclusion could he come to after witnessing the fear and resignation he'd seen on that young woman's face? Surely Cassima didn't know, wouldn't stand for it. Because if she did, if she supported the abhorrent practice that he himself had endured for eighteen long years, then he might as well abandon all thought of pursuing a courtship.
He promised himself he would return after helping Cassima, whether he had the princess's support or not. He could not knowingly leave the maiden in such a predicament.
For now, though, he continued to follow the path as it pushed toward the shore.
—
Alexander had seen white roses in his mother's rose garden, but the ones growing on the Isle of the Beast seemed even lovelier somehow.
Mother would love these.
Taking care to avoid the thorns, he took one. He had no way of getting any to Valanice, but he perhaps Sing-Sing would be willing to carry one to Cassima.
If only I could deliver it myself!
He started to continue on through the hedge, but stopped short as another maiden came to mind. One who seemed to love roses just as much as Valanice.
He picked a second rose, determined that if he happened to see Beauty again, he would offer it to her. A small thing, perhaps, in comparison to what he wished he could do for her. But on the other hand, he well knew how even a small joy could be a beacon in the midst of a dark day.
"Your reward for broaching this garden is to be my slave, a slave as beastly as I am. You have only a few hours of humanity left."
Alexander's mind barely registered the second half of the beast's statement, having faltered at the word 'slave'. He could not - would not - endure that hell again.
"But that's not possible! There must be some way to break the enchantment! Spells always have a weakness somewhere." Except for, he fervently hoped, a certain cat cookie spell.
"The enchantment you are under is tied to my own. The sorceress left me a 'way out,' all right, but I'm afraid it was only her final bitter joke. You see, I need only find a maiden to join me here, to share my castle, my life… willingly. Take another look at me. You can't help but admire the hag's terrible cruelty and cunning."
"I shall try to find such a maid, for Cassima's sake." And his own, but if he failed, they were both doomed.
"Truly? How determined of you. I personally, would not waste my last few hours as a man on an impossible errand. However, you may do as you please. I give you this token." The beast handed him a golden ring, not terribly different from Alexander's own insignia ring. "It's my family ring and the only heirloom I have left. If perchance, you should… If you think you have found a maid… "
"I shall give her this ring," Alexander answered as he slipped the ring onto his finger to keep it safe.
"Yes she must accept it of her own free will. By doing so she accepts me. Not that you shall find anyone, mind you! Your time is short. Count the minutes on your fingers while fingers you have, pretty prince. Your master will await you."
The beast-man reentered the garden behind him, the gate shutting with a clang that seemed to punctuate the finality of his words.
Alexander's nails bit into his palms as he tried to calm the anxiety that hearing the term 'master' again had caused. He simply didn't have time to deal with it right now. Nausea welled up in his stomach, however, as he felt the overwhelming pressure settle on his shoulders, a tension he hadn't felt since that day he had been forced to finish the cat cookie spell with only hours to spare, lest he be killed.
He barely noticed the walk back to the shore; not even the heat of the scalding pool was enough to distract him from his predicament.
Shouldn't - shouldn't have come here.
He should have stayed in Daventry, where he was a free man.
Once, the lure of his homeland had given him the strength he needed to fight back. Now, it was Cassima. She needed his help, which meant he had to pull himself together and approach this problem with the same focus and clear mind as any other.
He sat down on the sandy beach and closed his eyes, attempting to focus on nothing but his breathing. Only once it had evened out did he open his eyes and allow himself to think about the problem.
The beast had a good point, though. What maiden would willingly give herself to such a man? Lady Celeste wouldn't, that was for sure. Cassima? He couldn't bear the thought, and it didn't matter anyway, as he had no way to reach her.
The only other maiden he had met in these lands was Beauty. His heart ached for her; how long had she been living with that awful stepmother? He pulled out the rose he had picked for her and rolled it between his fingers as he thought.
Would - would she consider it? Could he consider it, leading her to be with a man he knew almost nothing about? One who termed himself 'master'? Or was he, in his desperation, selfishly putting his own life ahead of Beauty?
Granted, the enchantment now afflicting him had not been casted by the beast-man himself. In fact, he had done everything in his power to prevent anyone from wandering into it.
And if Beauty accepted, the beast would no longer be a beast. She would have a chance, at least, of a better life. Surely, if someone had offered him a similar choice years ago, he would have accepted himself. Any risk would have been worth escaping that prison of a mountain.
The plan still left him with a guilty pit in the bottom of his stomach. It was a small thing, however, compared to the fear of being dragged off to a strange castle for the rest of his life. And of what would happen to Cassima in the hands of Alhazred. He had no real choice; the decision would have to be Beauty's.
He promised himself again that he would check on her after this adventure and ensure she was in no danger. And, if she wished it, help her leave.
Of course, this whole moral dilemma was moot if she refused.
Alexander let out a pent breath at the sight of Beauty again tending to her roses. He'd been afraid he would have to gain access to the manor to find her.
He moved slowly, afraid of her startling her again. The same anxious look returned to her face when she saw him, followed by one of recognition. Still, she seemed ready to bolt back inside until she noticed the rose he held out to her.
"Pardon me, maid. I hope you don't think me forward, but I see that you like roses. I thought you might perhaps like a fresh white rose."
