AN: This is a one-shot based on a prompt from the tumblr user Writing-Prompts. It goes off the idea "What if Ernest met the Creature instead of William." There has been no editing in this; it's just a quick 'n dirty little one-shot while I do the heavy editing on "Stay."
Thursday, May 7, 1795. Late evening.
Ernest was sitting outside, tending the dying fire. It had been a good day, William's 8th birthday. All their friends from town had come to celebrate, and together they'd had a splendid time running amok making mischief and playing hide-and-go-seek. There was one horrifying moment where they'd thought they lost sweet William, but - the lad! He was such a good sneak! Ernest nodded to himself, smiling. His brother did learn from the best, after all.
He poked the fire with a stick, stirring the embers when he noticed two glowing orbs in the forest. He frowned, blinking his eyes. Was it a trick of the light? Was it some animal?
He continued staring. The lights blinked. Definitely eyes. A wolf? His father had been sure to warn them of wolves all their lives.
He plunged his poker stick into the fire, heating it.
"Shah! Shah!" he hissed at the thing, waving his stick. He grimaced to himself. It wasn't much, but the stick was still better than nothing.
"Please," a soft tenor spoke from the trees. "I mean you... no harm."
Ernest paused. "Good sir," he began, shaking his head in confusion. The voice definitely came from the tree line. A stranger in the woods? Why were they hiding? His family knew everyone in the town - "Why do you stalk through our woods?" he asked.
The shrubs around the tree line shifted. The stranger was moving. "I come seeking... Frankenstein."
Ernest frowned deeper. "This is the House of Frankenstein. Why do you seek us? How do you know us?"
"Victor Frankenstein. I have... business with him. Are you him?"
Victor? His brother was still off in Ingolstadt, studying hard for all he knew. Bastard never wrote them back any of their letters. "Is he in some sort of trouble?" Ernest asked.
"No? I merely wish to... speak with him. To... parley with him."
"Is my brother your enemy, then? Has he wronged you?" Ernest asked, advancing a few paces but holding near the fire. He didn't want to leave the proximity of the house - he was close enough he could call for help and it would come at once. But this stranger seemed fearful.
"In a sense. He has done me a... grievous wrong," the stranger answered.
"Come on out from the shadows, and join me at the fire, then. Maybe we can sort this out," Ernest offered, his stick still clutched in his hand. He fenced saber with Henry when his brother's friend had still been here; it was important for him to know if he was to join the Army.
"Please, do not be alarmed. Please, do not shout. Please, know that I mean you no harm," the stranger said.
The stranger was afraid, yet kept trying to assure him of no ill-will. What was -
The stranger advanced through the trees, the shrubs parting before him. It? What was it? It was massive! Ernest blanched as the thing slunk from out of the trees, taking a step back as the thing moved forward.
"Please - no harm!" the thing said, holding its massive hands before itself in a placating manner. Its yellow, luminescent eyes were trained on his person, and his own hazel eyes tracked the giant. God! The thing was huge! If it came after him, he wouldn't stand a chance. Like David and Goliath, his only chance was if he kept it at range.
And yet, the thing approach him, not standing fully erect like a man, but crouched and stooped low like a hunted animal. It wore no fine suit, but rags and furs. Wild. Hunted.
"Who - Who are? What business did you have with my brother!" Ernest commanded.
"Please - I beseech thee, do not shout!" the thing replied, it's voice at complete and utter odds with its monstrous form. "I do not mean you harm... but others will surely myself harm," it pleaded, clasping its hands together.
It pleaded.
A monster stood before him. A monster threw itself down before him. A monster came to him, seeking his brother. Victor... what have you done?
Ernest clenched his jaw. "I'll asked you again: Who are you?"
"Please, you must understand... I am Nobody," the thing said, shaking its head. As it spoke, Ernest could see the muscles under its pale flesh shift and move. The thing smelt putrid.
"What do you mean, 'I am Nobody?'" Ernest asked in clipped tones. He didn't want to lose his brother's birthday dinner here.
"I am Nobody. I have... no name. No place. Victor did not... see fit to give me one."
Ernest shook his head.
"I see you do not comprehend what I am trying to say. Here," the creature said, sliding one of its large hands into some void beneath its rags. Ernest instinctively raised his stick before he even realized what he was doing.
"Please! No Harm!" the creature said, aborting its movement. Ernest slowly lowered his stick again while the creature slowly revealed a small notebook.
It was an innocuous thing. Thin. Black. Unmarked. It looked like a child's toy in the thing's massive hands, but he accepted it from the monster, noting the sutures and gashes in its flesh. He shivered despite the mildness of the night.
Ernest took a breath before taking his eyes off the creature. It would have the perfect chance to strike him down. The perfect chance to steal him away. The perfect chance to kill him if it had thought that would be what it took to get to Victor. But the thing kept pleading "No Harm," and his father had always taught the three of them that looks did not necessitate character.
He opened the front cover. There on the first page was scribed his brother's name. The Personal Notes of Victor Frankenstein. Ernest flipped through the pages, speeding through them; not caring for content, just the concept. It was all his brother's scrawling hand. And then here and there: anatomical diagrams. Ernest remembered Victor mentioning something about Natural Philosophy when he'd first begun studying abroad and how he needed to learn everything, from anatomy to mathematics to philosophy and everything in between.
Ernest glanced back up at the hideous thing.
"Why do you have my brother's notebook?" Ernest asked.
"It was... inside the pocket of his jacket. He ran away from me after he created me. Please, believe me when I tell you that I but wish to speak with him to understand," the creature replied. "The details of myself are in your brother's book," it said, gesturing to the little notebook.
Ernest shook his head. "No, surely you mean you were part of some... some experiment gone wrong?" God! Created? The thing can't mean - but if it did - how? Victor! What have you done!
"There in the book, Victor has chronicled in explicit detail the origins of my being. There are many things within those pages that I do not know, but I do know that Victor made me what I am," the creature said, examining one of its own hands. Such introspection could only come from something intelligent - something human. And its hand was that of a humans, if but perfectly proportionally sized to its gigantic frame. Ernest knew that he himself was on the shorter side - 169cm, still taller than Victor's 165cm - but the giant! He had to crane his neck to look into its eyes. It's eyes, horrifying, watery, dead, but staring back with intelligent life. Those eyes were pleading with him to be understood, lest it be forced to use... harsher force.
Ernest shook his head again, flipping through the pages more slowly, catching the words dictating the desecration his brother had performed. "No. No, my brother could not - he could not have stitched together rotten meat and offal and created life from it. No. That would have required some... strange - I don't know what magics! My brother is a good man! He could not have done the madness you're insisting."
"Victor is my creator. If you could.. bring him to me, that we two may speak, it may give us both the clarity we seek."
Ernest continued shaking his head, looking at his brother's notebook. "I can't. He'd still in Ingolstadt."
"Ingolstadt," the thing breathed. Ernest suddenly looked up. The thing had a look of curiosity on its mutilated face.
"Victor's not here."
"I will wait here for him. Write to him for me."
Ernest made a face. "Victor hasn't written us back in two years. What makes you think he'll read this letter? And even if he does, what makes you think he'll give up his studies to come back to us - to come back to you?"
"Write him that I am here."
"What should I put? Nobody?"
"Tell him the Adam of his labors has called upon his family to visit. He would return should he think you in danger," the thing replied.
Ernest quickly looked back at the thing, fear in his eyes. "You promised no harm!"
The monster looked at him sharply. "I have. And none shall come. But All in the World believe me to seek ill. None believe me to inspire love. And I see it in your eyes, too, young Frankenstein: fear."
"I only fear when needless threats are being tossed about," Ernest replied harshly, his heart still pounding in his chest.
"Go write your letter. I will stay near. I will know when Victor returns to you."
"How? Where will you stay? My Father's House has servants that know every nook and cranny. They would not be as kind as I to speak with you."
"Do not fear for my sake," the creature said with what Ernest presumed to be sarcasm. "I know the forest well, and it knows me. I will be watching and waiting," said the creature before nodding and slipping back into the trees as if it had never been by his side.
Ernest checked his breathing. His heart was racing, and he released a shaky breath. He kicked deep into the soil, sending a shower of dirt to cover the last pitiful embers of the fire before dropping his stick and stalking back to the house. Oh, Victor was going to get that letter all right. He'd already been conspiring with Elizabeth since Henry finally got approval from his father to attend university at Ingolstadt. He'd send that letter with him. Victor would listen to Clerval.
He paused before opening the door, turning back to cast one last glance at the woods. He felt more than saw something blip out of existence in the the shadows of the forest. Whatever Victor had done, it was out there watching. He would make sure no one in the house ever moved alone. Not William. Not Elizabeth. Not Justine. Not his Father.
Whatever Victor had done - the thing Victor made - it was wild and dangerous, like a horse that failed to be broken.
Ernest would hold Victor to an explanation.
For all of them.