For a beast, Derek had surprisingly soft footfalls – Emily didn't hear his approach until he reached her side and softly spoke, "Is everything alright?"
"Hmm?" she answered absentmindedly. She didn't look up from where she leaned on the railing of the ballroom terrace, staring into the distance.
Derek didn't say anything, merely resting a gentle paw on her shoulder.
With a sigh, she insisted, "Everything is just fine." Then, firmer, "I'm fine." It wasn't clear whether she was trying to convince him or herself.
"Did I do something wrong?" he asked, unfamiliar concern churning his stomach. "Did I step on your feet while we danced?"
Emily laughed. "No, your dancing was perfect. I was just admiring the view – it's beautiful..." Her last words bled into an almost wistful tone and understanding started to dawn on Derek.
"You can see your father's castle," he supplied. "You... You miss him."
She couldn't seem to meet his gaze, eyes dropping instead to her hands where she struggled to resist the urge to pick at the neatly manicured edges.
"You can tell me the truth," he urged. "It's okay."
She met his eyes then, as if searching for whether he truly meant his words and, seeming to find an answer there, eventually she nodded. "I miss him very much. I wish I could see him, if only for a moment, just to know he's alright..."
"What if I could give you that?" Derek asked quietly, unsure why the idea gave him a sense of foreboding.
Emily raised a brow, seemingly unsure what he'd meant, but hopeful nonetheless.
He sighed. "I have something that may be able to set your heart at ease... Follow me." Wordlessly, he lead her from the ballroom, across the castle and into the West Wing where she was forbidden from entering.
"Derek, I..." she started, faltered, unsure what she wanted to say, only knowing that she felt there was something that needed to be said.
He didn't let her finish, though. He handed her the mirror, suddenly the one who was unable to make eye contact. "It's a magic mirror," he said, "It shows you anything – or anyone – you wish to see. All you need to do is ask."
"Show me my father, please," Emily instructed the mirror, unsure if she actually expected it to work – she'd grown up in such a small village that magic was still a mystical and mysterious entity, even as she spent all of her time with a man who was obvious proof of the ravages of magic.
The mirror lit up, glowing bright with glittering blue light, the plain reflective face coming to life with an all too familiar scene. Her father sat hunched over in the armchair nearest the library fireplace – how many hours the two of them had spent in that chair over the course of her childhood, her seated happily on her father's knee as he read to her, she couldn't have possibly counted. He clutched a copy of her favourite book, one finger absentmindedly tracing the golden letters embossed on the cover. Occasionally, his shoulders would heave with an obvious sob. Her mother paced back and forth before the fire and, though she couldn't hear the words, Emily knew the rant all too well – the one that blamed him for everything.
A sob of her own burst forth in spite of herself. "Oh, Papa!" she cried out. "What have I done..."
"Go!" Derek said abruptly, startling her.
"What?" she asked, hardly daring to breathe.
"You can leave. Go to your father."
"Are... Are you saying..." she whispered.
"You're free now," he said gravely. "You're no longer my prisoner."
She opened her mouth as if to say something, perhaps to thank him, but words refused to form. She mustered a smile, even if it was a rather wobbly one, then turned on her heel and picked up her skirts, leaving him behind, blind to the fact that she took his heart with her.
The days had started to blur together and Emily had long since lost track of time. She had no idea what day it was or how long she'd been chained up in that damned basement. She spent most of her time sleeping, if for no other reason than it occupied her time and left her wandering mind less room to dwell on the desperate situation in which she'd found herself.
She was half-awake then, when she thought she heard someone calling her name, and immediately assumed that she was dreaming in the nexus between sleep and wake.
She yawned, stretched, listening to the satisfying pop of each vertebra against the next. She wandered over to the little bathroom to splash water on her face, hoping to wake herself up enough that the repeated calling of her name would leave her alone with her hopelessness.
The voice, however, had other ideas, stubbornly persisting.
Finally, daring to hope that maybe someone had finally come for her, she cried out, "Hello? Is someone out there?"
A beat. "Emily?" the voice asked, sounding almost hopeful. "Emily, where are you?"
"Down here!" she shouted. "In the basement!"
Another silence followed, then the sound of the doorknob jiggling and Emily felt her heart beating furiously in her throat.
"It's locked..." the voice called down. Apparently, that was no deterrent, though, because a second later there came a cracking as the door splintered, flung open. "Emily?"
"I'm here!" she rasped, barely managing to speak around the lump of tears that had climbed into her chest. She wasn't sure who she was expecting to be her saviour...but it certainly wasn't the person that descended the stairs then. "Derek?" she whispered, surprised and confused and a thousand different things at once.
It only took him a moment before he was across the room, wrapping her tightly against his chest as if the very notion of being apart from her a single second longer was unfathomable.
Unable to help herself, to hold back her emotions a single second longer, she broke down then, sobbing breathlessly into his chest.
Derek said nothing for several moments, merely letting her cry. Then, he gently pulled back, stroking one hand along her cheek, a faint smile quirking up his lips on the side of his face that wasn't scarred. "It's okay," he assured, "Everything's going to be okay."
"How did you... How..." she stammered, trying to figure out what question she wanted answered first.
He shook his head. "There will be time for answers later – we're not out of the woods just yet."
She nodded insistently. "Ian could be home any moment," she said gravely. "He'll never let me out of here alive..." She rattled the chain keeping her attached to the bed. "He's got the only key and the chain is unbreakable – I've tried..."
Derek didn't seem deterred, though. He pulled a small pocket knife out of his back pocket, proceeding to pick the lock like he'd been doing it his whole life.
"Where did you learn to do that?" she asked, surprised.
He shrugged. He wasn't entirely sure, the knowledge simply occupying a dark and dusty corner of his memory. Sure enough, the lock sprung open easily under his coaxing. Without a word, he proceeded to lift her into his arms.
"I can walk," she protested. But he ignored her insistence, carrying her upstairs and out the door.