AN: Matthew is SO. ADORABLE. In this chapter. Just saying. So if you like Canada, you'll be very happy :3 Oh and just for future reference, all the weirdness of this chapter actually happens in the fairy tale (mostly. Prussia just...Prussia-fied it). So I am not responsible for this and ensuing chaos.

Oh and happy early Easter, everyone! ^^

"Um…" Prince Alfred pointedly didn't stare at Gillian. She tried not to blush. It was strange—she felt no shame in wearing as little as possible, but now…

Just a few minutes ago, she had arrived at the palace. It was gorgeous. Everything was gilt and embroidered and hung heavily with silks and lace, wealth she had never dreamed of as the ostracized daughter of a poor farmer. She truly was the lowest of the low, and she was appearing before the highest of the high.

In every dress she owned.

Gillian had very fair skin, and when she blushed, she flamed, so she had learned to stop herself from blushing. It took every ounce of her skill to keep the heat from her face right now. She wore so many layers that she was practically ballooning out. When held at her sides, her arms were at least a foot away from her body. Every cloak, every dress, every shift—every stitch that she owned—she wore them all. She looked fatter than a turkey before the prince, and it was humiliating.

"A-allow me to show you to Matthew's rooms," Alfred said, recovering his composure quickly. "It is a pleasure to have you here."

Of all the glorious things in the palace, Alfred was the most glorious. He had dark gold hair, unkempt as if he had not found time to brush it in a while. Gillian was tall for a woman, but he stood a good seven or eight centimeters taller than she did, and he was built like a soldier, with a muscular body and powerful shoulders. Most glorious of all were his deep sapphire eyes, the trademark of his line. She could have drowned in them and been very happy indeed.

But that was not the point of her visit. She was here to meet the lindorm prince, and if the seer was to be believed—which Gillian thought he was—then no other man would ever satisfy her like the lindorm, not even his breathtakingly handsome twin. No one else could understand her and love her like the lindorm could.

If she could ignore the claws and teeth and tail, and everything else in between, that is.

Her nervousness mounted as Alfred led her through the palace. It was not a long walk, not near long enough for Gillian to steel her nerves as she'd hoped to.

Alfred swung the door open and bowed. "If at any time you would like to leave, simply tell Matthew. He will not keep you."

"Thank you," she managed through a throat suddenly gone dry. She prided herself on her courage, but it had all crumbled to dust now. She had to chant the soothsayer's promises like a mantra to keep her feet moving forward.

The rooms were just as fine as anything she had seen within the palace, and yet it had an air of loneliness that no other area she'd passed through had. Even though the rest of the furniture in the palace had been spotless, the lindorm's room stirred with dust as she stepped inside. Even the maids avoided coming here, it seemed. The odd scent of a dead thing lurked inside, probably from the lindorm's meals—none made it to the stage of decay, but a dead animal never inhabited a place without leaving a trace.

The door shut behind her, and she gulped in spite of herself. Her mantra picked up in speed, and she made herself speak. "Excuse me?" she called. "Is anyone here?"

Hello. A strange voice reached her somewhere in the recesses of her mind, another consciousness molding itself to hers, pressing itself like a gentle kiss to her brain just long enough to leave an imprint—the words she was hearing. It was a very intimate feeling, and it made her skin crawl at the same time. Welcome. What is your name?

"Gillian Beilshmidt. Your Grace." The last was an afterthought—everyone called the palace's newest resident "the lindorm prince," but few thought of him as such. He was more like a parasite in the eyes of the people. A huge, scaly poison slowly infecting the realm.

No need for formality. The lindorm was still nowhere to be seen. Hiding from her? You call me Matthew, and I shall call you Gillian. Does that sound fair?

"It does, Matthew."

Very good. He sounded amused, and a little sheepish. How very royal I sounded just now. I am picking up on the ways of a prince rather quickly here.

Gillian had to laugh. He sounded embarrassed of his words. "You are a prince. You should sound your station."

"Prince" implies that I have a chance of acceding to a throne, Matthew said glumly. Which I do not. You would sooner become Queen of Sweden than I.

"Of course I would. You are a male," Gillian snickered.

For a moment she felt a wave of surprise from Matthew. She supposed she was the first to have joked with him. Then he said slowly, Can I come out? You will not run, will you? He sounded so wistful. Had everyone run? He seemed like such a kind monster. And afraid of rejection, from what she'd heard so far. How could anyone have such a stony heart, to run screaming from such a tender soul?

"No, I promise." Gillian held her breath.

A large, snakelike head with a lupine snout emerged from the bedroom. Then came a long, sinewy neck, with two massive, powerful clawed legs and a whipcord tail. The lindorm's body was paneled in dully shining green scales, and he had wide, intelligent amber eyes. He towered over her, even though her height was considerable, and he had daggerlike teeth and claws that should have frightened the living daylights out of her.

But strangely, Gillian's fear melted at the sight of him. Matthew looked as shy as he had sounded, ducking his head bashfully as she looked upon him. Every so often he glanced up to sneak a peek at her face, then averted his eyes again shyly.

She curtsied as best she could with her multitude of skirts. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Prince Matthew."

He drew back slightly, shock once again emanating across their mental link. Ah… It is a pleasure to meet you as well, Gillian. Hesitantly, his amber eyes met hers. If I may say so… You are very pretty. He flinched, as if afraid she would hit him or run.

Neither of his fears had even crossed her mind. She was enthralled. No man had ever called her pretty. She didn't usually talk much to men—her interactions with them were purely physical for the most part—but of all the men she'd been with, not a single one had complimented her like that. Beyond the joy at receiving a compliment came the warmth from his obvious earnestness. He meant what he said, and that warmed her to her toes. "Thank you very much. But I am sure you only say that because you have not seen many women." They probably all ran, terrified by his mind-voice, before he had a chance to come out.

That is not true, he protested. I have seen serving women, and ladies from the court when they walk by. I have a window that overlooks the park, you see. But none of them are as pretty as you. I think your hair is lovely. Abruptly his toothy jaws shut as if to hold back words, even though he spoke with his mind. If he was human and had skin instead of scales, she knew he would have turned furiously red.

Gillian was flying. Her hair, her demon hair, was lovely? If she had not been the type of girl to avoid crying like the plague, she would have been bawling grateful tears. "Thank you so much, Matthew." She took a deep breath. Now to instigate the plan. She took up the mantra from the soothsayer in her head. "But you know, human women look even prettier without clothes on."

Really? Matthew asked, perfectly innocent. He had no clue that it was improper for a human woman—or man for that matter—to parade around bare. I cannot imagine that you could be any prettier, but… Can I see?

He was so…cute! So innocent, so naively eager for any woman, maybe anyone, to pay him attention. She could relate. Her heart went out to him, her kindred spirit, in pity. His lot had been even worse than hers, and yet he was so pure of heart. She could hardly believe that a dragon could be kinder to her than the people of the village where she had been born, even kinder than the father that had raised her.

"Yes, if that is what you would like. But I have an idea. Let us make a game of it! For every dress I remove, you shed a skin. Does that not sound fun?" She made herself smile earnestly. In a way, he was like a child—he did not understand things that humans did. She could use that to her advantage.

I suppose. I have never tried to shed so many all at once. Matthew hesitated. But… I agree. Who shall start?

"We can do it together," she said. "I will take off my dress, and you shed a skin at the same time."

Alright. Matthew padded over to an iron-bound chest pushed up against the wall, shyly drawing the rest of his body out into the open, and rubbed his shoulder harshly against it. A section of his skin peeled away, and it was a simple thing for him to then climb out of the skin and leave the husk there beside the chest. Suddenly there were two identical lindorms, one pale with empty eye sockets, leering lips, and hollow insides, and one that suddenly looked slightly smaller.

"Very good! Now wasn't that fun?" Gillian untied the coarse strings of a heavy woolen cloak around her throat, and dropped it to the floor. Then she started on the tie of the next cloak, a lighter but equally rough cotton one.

I suppose. Matthew put his shoulder to the chest again and scraped his hard skin across it. Soon another duplicate lindorm was at his side, and Gillian had dropped her second and final cloak. Now she had dresses to remove, and under that, shifts. She only hoped they would be enough.

Matthew's round amber eyes lingered on the skin at her throat and chest exposed by removing the cloaks. You look prettier already, he breathed. Gillian smiled widely and bent to draw her first dress over her head.

Their game went on. Soon Matthew had to crush his skins into the next sitting room, to make room for him to remove more. Otherwise, Gillian soon would have been drowning in his empty, pale clones. He grew progressively smaller and smaller as his skins were stripped away, and so did Gillian as the pool of garments at her feet grew. Every time she removed one, Matthew would glance up at her, as if hopeful for a little more skin to be revealed. He truly was more human than anyone realized, both in his need for affection and his…appetites. He probably hadn't even known that his desire for a woman could differ from his desires for recognition and companionship from other men. But he knew now.

Gillian was sweating with nervousness by the time she got down to her last shift. She didn't think she'd ever been so afraid in her life—which was rather strange, considering that she'd never felt even the slightest nervousness in stripping down before a man. Before a dragon, though… Her knees wanted to knock together, but she stubbornly held them steady. No matter how afraid she was that the soothsayer had deceived her, she would not show fear.

Matthew was watching her eagerly. By now he had shrunk down to almost man-size, and his skin was peeling away as if it just could not hang on to his body any longer. Wherever a scale fell, a green puff of smoke rose. Soon the whole room was full of it.

Steeling herself, again chanting the mantra the soothsayer had given her, she jerked her last undergarment over her head and stood naked before the lindorm.

"You were not exaggerating…" breathed a voice. "You are so beautiful…"

Giddy nervousness filled her. The voice had not been within her mind. "Matthew?" she asked. She felt around until she touched something warm and alive.

"Gillian?" Through the green smoke, she could see a pair of deep, wide, crystal-blue eyes. Undoubtedly human eyes, and it was an undoubtedly human body she was touching. "What… What happened?"

The smoke was clearing enough to reveal a tall, lean man. He shared some obvious features with Alfred, namely identical blue eyes and the same shade of hair—though Alfred's was shorter and straighter—but he was slightly taller and leaner, with less obvious musculature. But he was still gloriously handsome, and gloriously human. Just as the soothsayer had promised.

"I broke the spell, Matthew." Gillian got up on her tiptoes and brushed a kiss across lips that parted in shock under hers. She laughed at his childlike innocence. What a beautiful monster. Her beautiful, wonderful, innocent, handsome, misunderstood little Matthew. "You are human now."

AN: =3 How beautiful. *sniffle* Reviews would make me happy. Very.