A/N: INCEPTION. Oh wait…
Disclaimer: I do not own The Little White Horse and/or The Secret of Moonacre.
Maria fought with all her might to stay conscious, to stay alert, but everything was a blur that would focus and then return to being muddled. Rochester's face, his lips, his eyes, would morph into the beast's, then return to their natural state and then mix again. Maria's hands stretched out, trying to grab a hold on him, trying to discern which one was, indeed, the real one and which was the dream. She felt herself becoming dizzy with the effort, her head splitting with pain at the distress of her predicament. Around and around the landscape spun, her vision turning fuzzy, and a whirlwind of everything began to fuse together until her hands were grasped firmly and she could shut her eyes to the outside world.
Her body felt as if she had spun around for days, so exhausting was the effort to touch reality for her, that her entirety was utterly spent. The hands that held her own let go of hers, a spark of panic rising up her spine, but she soon felt the muscular arms attached to them envelope her. Maria's body fell limp, her instincts telling her that she could trust these arms, that they belonged to the man who kissed her and kept saving her. Maria dare not open her eyes, for lack of trust in herself and for the possible loss of the feeling of safety. The man shifted the position of his arms under her, one cradling her head and upper back while the other reached under her knees and picked her up fully. Maria let her head fall against the broad chest of the man, trying her best to not let curiosity take hold of her and open her new eyes to see whichever face this man wore.
"Maria, please, be alright." The voice was a whisper and she could not discern which being, beast or man, had spoken it, nor was she inclined to care at the moment. It seemed as though the man, she would call him that for now, was at least concerned for her and thought that she had, indeed, fell into a swoon. Maria held back a victorious smile, schooling her face to remain nearly completely impassive except for the worry of her brow.
"I will return you to your chambers. Please, forgive me for what I have done." A spark of fear flew through Maria at the words, the accent of them finally registering with her. Still, Maria held back any sort of movement, except that expression which she had perfected on her face so that she may at least appear not to be dead. She could feel the movement of the man holding her, each step he took jostling her slightly, even though his strong arms held her in an almost protective way. Minutes passed, Maria's ears alert and listening at each crunch of a twig or sound of an animal howling, until her consciousness let itself slip and she fell into a dreamless sleep.
"Princess." German; the accent the yellow eyed man before her had to his voice was that of the Germanic kind. She hadn't heard many with such an accent before, as she was not yet out in society and had been kept in close quarters at the boarding school, but she still could recognize it.
"Wolf." Was her candid reply, her eyes narrowing at the man before her, the nickname an outcome of viewing the canine-like form he took when he chased young women in red dresses about the forest.
"How did I get in my bed? Where is Rochester?" Maria's glare turned accusatory, yet the creature before her smiled crookedly.
"I carried you." He replied, leaning back in the chair that he had sat in front of the fireplace. His golden eyes mocked her as he stared straight at her, the fire that she assumed the beast had lit causing him to look more ominous as he did so. Maria gulped as she dug her feet into the bed and pushed herself backwards, the spark of fear that she felt earlier returning as she forced her way as far from him as possible.
"Sir Rochester?" She questioned, trying her best to hold her composure as her back hit the headboard, the sound of her body hitting the wood behind her causing her to cringe. The beast stood up slowly, his chair softly screeching as he did so, before he languidly made his way to her bedside.
"Rochester…..Rochester is a name I heard once." The bed dipped under his weight, his leg touching hers momentarily before she quickly moved it. He sat, leaning forward, his shoulders hunched and his brow worried.
"You look frightened." He reached out, his fingers lightly touching her face before she could jerk away from him. His brow creased and he retracted his hand, scooting himself away from her. An inhuman snarl flew from his throat before he stood up, turning away from her, his back now coming into view. The beast wore what Rochester had been wearing at dinner, a dinner which she had interrupted like a fool. A blush heated her cheeks, her embarrassment rising. She had acted as though she were an impetuous child, like she had no control over herself, like she was the younger, more naïve Maria that had first appeared at Moonacre Valley.
"Why are you blushing?" The wolf was facing her again, his strange mood of a few seconds ago disappearing and the taunting that she had faced earlier, in what she hoped was a dream, returning. His eyebrow was raised; his body turned to half face her, his profile lit dangerously. Her eyes narrowed at him as her blush became deeper at being caught, lost in her own musings.
"I…I was…."
"Embarrassed about how you charged into the dining room like a madwoman?" Her eyes widened, the idea that he had just practically read her mind surprising her.
"It is alright, Princess. You haven't really done anything. You didn't even ride out with Sir Rochester. In fact, you haven't even met him yet." Shock flew through Maria, her blush from earlier immediately fleeing her cheeks and her skin losing its normally pale tone, making her seem translucent.
"You-you mean to tell me that I'm dreaming all of this? Dreaming about a man I've never met, a creature that has forever changed the way I act, and that I'm at home in Moonacre Manor?" Maria's face contorted, but her position on the bed changed to a more relaxed pose, the thought that the wolf was, indeed, a figment of her crazed imagination sunk in.
"I must be absolutely 'round the bend." Maria spoke, her eyes still wide, but her brow furrowing in confusion. A slender hand flew to her forehead, her bangs scrunching up under her hand so she could try to assess her own temperature. A crooked grin grew on the wolf's face, his golden eyes flashing at her before he moved to once again sit on the edge of her bed; though this time he sat intimately close. Slowly he lifted his right hand to grasp her own, his large and slightly toned appendage holding her own pale and thin one lightly as he lifted it to his forehead.
"What is the diagnosis?" She nearly laughed at the wolf's actions, but focused her efforts on trying to understand why her hallucination had such a high fever compared to her own.
"Do you naturally run hot?" She questioned timidly, her sure tone of earlier faltering as he shifted his seating position, his thigh touching hers. She tried not to blush, knowing full well he would question her again; after all, that's what she would do, and he was her hallucination.
"Yes. Do you naturally ask your supposed hallucinations their average temperature?" His crooked grin grew as he cocked his head to the side, her hand now in his hay colored hair.
"Not usually. In fact, I usually don't have hallucinations." She answered, her fingers reflexively feeling his hair, an eerie calm falling over the two of them. Maria could no longer grasp at the strands of fear that had had her backed up into her headboard earlier. She felt at ease, knowing that her hallucination wasn't going to hurt her and had even just made an attempt at being humorous. He seemed to relax as she did; furthering her suspicions that he was, indeed, an image from her mind. So occupied was she in these thoughts that she failed to notice how silky his hair was, how warm he was, how the bed sheets scrunched under his weight, how the bed sank slightly where he sat. She just smiled at him, her relaxed state making her drowsy and drunk in the presence of him, his demeanor softer, kinder, than her nightmares had made him out to be.
"My Princess, you should rest." He spoke, his large hand once again catching hold of hers and slowly pulling it from his hair so that he could hold onto it. Maria huffed, sinking suddenly into the pillow, her auburn hair fanning out around her, making it appear as if she bore a halo.
"I have been asleep long enough. I do not wish to have any more nightmares, nor do I wish to stop reasoning with my own hallucination. How have I come up with you? I have not had many men in my life and I haven't often heard such an accent as yours. I must have quite the imagination, a better one than I have given myself credit for." He chuckled, all hints of the evil creature she had met before gone, his presence seemingly only that of a man. Maria flushed, her body suddenly burning as she realized this, the idea scandalizing her and the fact that he bent down to kiss her forehead being the two main factors of her ailment.
"You must sleep. I will make sure all your questions are answered in the morning, My Princess." The wolf replied to her, his golden eyes so soft, so gentle, Maria knew she was going insane. She had created the most beautiful man out of a creature that frightened her thoroughly and was now wishing, hoping that he would suddenly become real.
"Sleep." He repeated his order and Maria graciously complied.
"How is she, Loveday?" She could hear her Uncle Benjamin's voice, but her eyelids refused to open, refused to obey her commands and let her see her uncle's face. She felt the bed dip and her heart leapt from her chest, the similar situation seeming so familiar, yet she felt colder, more human, than in her dream. She felt the ache of the carriage ride to Moonacre, the wear of having to sleep against the wall, her head craned in an awkward position, didn't seem to have disappeared during her sleep. She felt as though rest had escaped her, but she knew that she had been asleep, as the evidence clung to her eyelashes like glue. Slowly, with care to the thought that the 'sleep' could irritate her eyes, her eyelids fluttered open slowly, blue eyes blurry as her pupils dilated. Almost instantly she sneezed, her whole body pitching forward at the full force of her sneeze, familiar hands grabbing each of her arms to help her sit up as another sneeze came.
"Loveday, she's awake! Quickly, send for the doctor!" Her uncle's voice was loud, placing him as the person who was holding onto her so tightly, and she quickly put her hands to her ears to cover them from the unnerving volume he spoke in. Her eyes shot open, her vision going double as she realized that every sense was on overdrive. Her mouth opened to scream, but the only sound she could issue was a hoarse whisper of a scream. Her uncle's hands wrapped around her triceps, shaking her lightly, her whole body moving back and forth as he tried to bring her to reality.
"Merryweather, what the devil is going on?!" Coeur De Noir, Maria could barely recognize his voice through the haze of her mind. She felt as though she was possessed, or she assumed this was what it would feel like, and she felt her eyes widen in crazed fear. Her screams began to become more pronounced, tears leaking from the corners of her eyes, as fear gripped her breast tightly and her muscles went rigid.
"Maria! Maria! Please! Oh God! Maria! Someone, bring me a sedative! Please, someone do something!" Her Uncle's voice was raised in panic, Coeur De Noir seemed at a loss, but Maria paid no heed, as her only instinctual response was to scream herself hoarse. Her perception of reality and dream had been ruined and whatever was heads or tails of what, she couldn't tell. It wasn't until a man entered the room, a man that was with the doctor, that she fell silent and her eyes finally blinked. Her whole body crumpled and she rolled into a ball, he limbs falling slack as her eyes staid upon the man who had entered into her room.
"Maria?" Her uncle questioned her, and then turned to face the doctor, his facial expression unreadable as he regarded both men.
"Doctor Hopkins, Sir Rochester, thank you for coming at such short notice. I am afraid that my niece is not yet out in society…but please, for the sake of her mind, pay no heed to propriety." At this her uncle rose from his position on the bed at her side, letting go of arms and laying her down comfortably on her bed before backing away. The doctor was the first to move forward, setting his carpet bag on the side table next to the bed and pulling out several instruments before taking her uncle's former place.
"I'll need some privacy with the patient." The doctor spoke, his voice gruff from age and the pipe, his demeanor serious in its nature and reinforcing his words. Her uncle seemed to startle, almost as if he was in a stupor before, and looked as if he was going to say something, but Loveday's hand on his shoulder halted his words. Coeur De Noir consented with a nod, taking his leave, his gaze connecting with her uncle's, as if bidding him to do the same.
"Sir Rochester, although I have asked to you to come with me, I would also wish you to leave until I ask you back in. If it is as you fear, then I will call for you." Rochester nodded, his eyes hidden by the shadows of her room, the outline of him being the only thing she could discern in her maddened state. Her uncle and Loveday retreated, Rochester following them, yet pausing at the door to look back, his eyes glinting the color of the sun as light caught them. Maria inhaled sharply, her cheeks flushing and her leg muscles tensing. She'd never felt something like this, not from just one look from a man, and never with Robin.
"Maria, do you know how long you have been asleep?" Maria's attention was diverted to the doctor, her eyes finding the face of the aging man at her side, his face made out of wrinkles and his olive skin tone contrasting his fitting perfectly with his hazel eyes. His hair had already whitened to the color of snow, but he didn't seem as ancient as his hair suggested, instead making him seem more dignified and regal. She would have been delighted to speak with him if she was able to break out of her mind, which had trapped her in some kind of stupor. Instead of speaking, she blinked at him, her eyes feeling empty and reflecting in the elder man's as devoid of feeling. The doctor seemed to understand her and he sighed before standing up, not even appearing to wish to make the futile effort to understand what could ail her.
The doctor rose, his thin body crackling with the effort, his age seeming to take him over as he moved to the door and twisted the knob, letting in the man she assumed was Rochester. She had barely noticed that he had taken the carpet bag with him, but now had to focus on it to hide her curiosity as to what Rochester could do to save her.
"She is beyond me, Sir. I leave you to council her." The doctor then left, pulling the door closed behind him, his face solemn as he turned to close the door behind him. That's when Rochester chose to speak, his voice so familiar it made her quake in fear.
"My princess, I understand what is happening to you…" Rochester trailed off, his foreign accentuated voice comforting her in its familiarity. She reached for him, slowly, her right hand quaking as she brought it up, into the air, and in his direction. He stepped forward quickly, revealing his identity as he grasped her hand, shocking her entire system as the contact sent a jolt through her.
"And I must tell you, my beautiful one, that you haven't seen your Uncle Benjamin yet. He has not awoken you to set you right, he is, in fact, still asleep in the bed that he shares with your Aunt, Loveday De Noir. Coeur De Noir is still in the guest bedroom several rooms away, dead to the world he is so encumbered in slumber. The good doctor is a figment of your imagination, which, is quite a beautiful thing. I, however, am here. I have been here since last night, when you called me by both Rochester and another word." Maria's breath sped up, but she made an attempt to sit up in her bed, her hand that grasped Rochester's tightening so that she could pull herself up with his assistance. He easily helped her, a soft smile on his wolfish face, the golden eyes of before dancing in the sunlight. She felt at a loss, but he sat down and, with the last of her strength, she pushed and pulled herself up and into his awaiting arms.
"You were my dream. You are my dream." His arms wrapped around her as her reflection became apparent in her vanity mirror, her shocking red hair and ocean blue eyes reflecting off of it. She leaned into him, ignoring the disappointment that she was no longer like her dream self, but was once again Maria Merryweather, the girl Robin De Noir had shunned and jilted in love. He seemed to understand and pulled her to him, his golden eyes meeting her gaze in the mirror, his lips parting in breathy words of comfort.
"In time, I will help you understand what is going on. Trust me, my princess. I will help cure your mind. You have yet to sleep, truly, and a fever has taken you. Your mind is riddled with fever, but I will stand fast. I will be your anchor; you only must call out for me." His voice, so beautiful to her ears, made them tingle and she shivered, her nerve endings firing in pleasure. She felt safe, encompassed in his arms, and she wished never to be parted from him henceforth. As if once again reading her mind, his hold on her shifted, bringing their bodies closer, nearly flush against each other as he explained her madness.
"You left the boarding school you had been going to as you graduated from schooling and were to become a lady in society, but Robin De Noir broke your heart and you found yourself returning to Moonacre to escape him, as he had taken to the city. Instead of coming out into society you chose to hide at your childhood home, embarrassed by your profession of love to someone that did not love you back. When you arrived, you immediately went to your room and ate your dinner in the solace of your own confinement. You then fell to sleep, your body worn from the long, arduous ride to Moonacre from the city and a fever took you. Little did you know that this was not the first time you slept." Maria's eyes widened, a chill running down her spine, and her body went rigid in his arms. He soothed her easily, his hands rubbing her back lightly, his head ducking so that their foreheads met and their breath mingled.
"My princess, you slept a long time when you were younger. You slept and I came in the night, my body malformed like that of a wolf's, but your magic cured me, even as you slept, and I watched you. I watched and waited for you, even as you fell in love with the De Noir boy, and I have now come for you. I have come to take you from this place where the foolish boy can look upon you easily and ignore you. I would have taken you sooner, when you were asleep in your carriage…" Maria's memory flashed, the blurry figured of someone sitting in the seat before her in their personal carriage frightening her then, but now a comfort.
"Yes, my princess, I sat with you during your long rest on you way here. I entered the coach when you first hit the woodland area on the outskirts of Moonacre. I sat with you until it became a danger for me and then, then I left you begrudgingly. I left you and now, now I have taken you. Do you know where, though? My darling? My beautiful one? I have taken you to the place where one light burns. Can you remember? Can you see clearly, now? My princess, can you fight your fever and reveal the truth with your own eyes?"
Everything swirled around Maria and she found herself back in the room that was lit by only one candle, the wounded man before her suddenly seeming so much more real than he had before. Reality seemed to catch up with her and she knew, instinctually, that this was the true reality. She was underground, presumably underneath yet another great tree, if you were to judge by the roots, and she was with the blonde man that she had taken to calling Rochester.
"Was I ever at Moonacre?" She questioned, her eyes wide in realization that she could not remember what had been real and what had been a hallucination brought on by her fever. Sweat clung to her body, forcing her to realize that she had apparently fought off her fever, but she ignored her body's pleas for rest and a new set of nightclothes.
"You were. I came for you in the night. You called me your beast. I felt your forehead and tested it against mine. You thought I was the one with the fever, then." She moved to touch him, to grasp at his half naked form, but swayed dangerously instead. His one uninjured arm reached out to grab hold of her and she balanced with his help, her mind in a whirlwind as she processed everything. She had arrived at Moonacre, gone immediately to her room, ate her supper alone, and fell asleep, so exhausted by her journey that she had contracted a fever. The beast, or the man in front of her, had come to check on her and had even gone so far as to steal her away in the night. He had confessed that he was, indeed, a beast, had watched over her as a child after she'd healed him, however unintentionally, with her magic, and fallen for her. He had come to take her away from the horrors of society, to love her and have her love him. She already felt a fondness for him rise in her, though fear also forced her body rigid.
"Maria?" He was swaying on his feet too, she noticed, and it looked as though he was the one that might collapse, not she. Her hands darted out to stop him from falling to the floor, but she moved too quickly and ended up tripping them both up and sending them tumbling to the floor. He maneuvered quickly, using his body as a pillow for her landing, a grunt from him the only acknowledgement that they'd fallen over, while she let out a startled yelp.
"Maria…are you alright?" He seemed to barely bite out his question and she quickly pulled herself upright using a nearby rock that jutted out of the cave wall. Worry creased her brow at the intense pained look upon the man's face, his bandages seeming to darken in the dim light. She quickly straddled him, ignoring propriety, and bent over him, her hands framing his face while so leaned so that they were nearly mouth to mouth, her hair creating a canopy around them.
"Rochester, what can I do? How can I help you? What happened? Please, let me help you!" She felt something akin to panic before a strange stinging in her arm made her focus on the appendage. A small hole, as if she'd been pricked with a needle, appeared and bled from her arm, and with a scream, Maria Merryweather woke up.
A/N: Thanks to all my wonderful favorite story/author alerts and favorites and the like. I would especially like to thank the lovely people who reviewed. I apologize for the time it took, but I had to decide exactly how I wanted this one to go and I've been rather busy with work. I am going to write another chapter relatively quickly in apology for making you wait. I thank you for your kind words.
-Wildespeaks