Night 2

12AM

Another candle on the bed, alongside the mirror and another note. The handwriting was more elegant, and perhaps too elegant, with all its curls and swirls and variations on normally simple letters.

I feel compelled to commend you on enduring the first night. However, I should warn you not to feel too confident in yourself, seeing as our brother's attempts do grow increasingly more fervent with each subsequent night. Seeing as you have lasted longer than at least ten previous attendants that presently come to mind, of course, it's possible that you will make it another night. Good luck.

- Jan

That was definitely less comforting than Edvard's note. "Ten? How man have there been before me?"

"Even I've lost count."

You yelped, lighting the candle as soon as you could, nearly dropping the mirror as you summoned Hans's face to it. "You're out already!"

"I was eager to hear your voice. I got excited to be seeing the same person twice in a row. Did you sleep well today?"

No, you hadn't. Your daytime nap had been plagued with visions of shadows haunting every corner of this castle. "Yes, I slept fine. Please, please go away. It's not that I don't enjoy your company, in fact I think it's the only thing that kept me from becoming hysterical last night, but my candle…"

"I understand," he said. He sounded disappointed. "I suppose I'll go make something to eat. I'm feeling like something sweet tonight."

Damn, now you were hungry, too. You had six hours ahead of you and you were starving. Had he really needed to bring up the concept of food when you were—what was that on the table?

Was there actually…cake? On that table?

How terribly convenient.

You snuffed out the candle and went to look. It seemed so rich and chocolatey, all covered in sprinkles and with a jug of water and an empty glass sitting next to it. "Well thank you Prince Jan."

It certainly was the most decadent option for dinner, and it was god damn delicious.

You ate a good portion, washing it down with some nice cool water before you though to check the mirror. No, no shadows in the hallways. Hans was still in the kitchen. He was munching away on a delicious-looking cherry tart, and getting it all over his fingers—he had removed the gloves—and face. You smiled; he really was just a person.

With very nice, soft-looking, thick fingers, from which he now licked red cherry juice.

For a moment, his lips parted, and you could see his teeth grazing his forefinger.

Night 2

1AM

He had stayed away, which was awfully kind of him. At this point, you were actually getting a little bored—and more than a little antsy. You sort of wanted him to come sit outside your room and tease you more.

This hour went by slowly without his interaction. All you did was watch him as he roamed the castle, trapped inside of it. Several times, he would look out a dark window and sigh.

"You know…I have a horse. Named Sitron," he said. "I used to ride all the time. As often as I could get away with. I love to be out under the sun, just myself and my horse, in the fresh open air…but I can't do that anymore. Sometimes…sometimes I would go night riding." He looked like a little girl fantasizing about flying with the stars, his chin in his hand as he just gazed out the window of the drawing room. "I would go tonight, but you see, I'm being watched. By you. And as long as you're watching, I can't leave. Of course, I don't expect you to just drop the mirror and let me go. Why would you trust me?"

You were tempted, to be honest.

If Hans said anything else after that, you hadn't noticed; there was a tap at your window. You quickly went to light your candle—but the matches were gone! "Oh, no, no nonono, no…" Could they be under the bed? No…behind the bed? No. Had you misplaced them on the bookshelf?

The tapping got louder and so did your heartbeat. Tapping, pounding, tapping, pounding away as you checked and re-checked each possible location. And then there was a knock on the door and you screamed.

"It's just me," he said.

"Go away! I can't find my matches, I can't light the candle!"

"I have them," he said. "I found them in my pocket. My friends must have taken them from you; here." The little box of matches was slid under the door and you broke a match trying to light it. Once you had finally lit the candle, the tapping on the window stopped. You shivered hard, clutching the lit candle for dear life.

"H-how did they…how?"

"Next time, perhaps make sure I'm out of the hallway before you snuff it out."

Good idea. "Okay, now…now go."

"Did I hear tapping on the window in there?" he asked. "I couldn't help but—ugh. That particular friend of mine doesn't take rejection too easily. He'll still be there a while. So…while he is, I wouldn't be doing too much harm to just stay right here, would I?"

"Well…no."

You listened as he got comfortable against the door. It creaked as he leaned.

Night 2

2AM

"So have you been having a good night?" he asked after some silence.

"Aside from the tapping? Yeah…I-I see you enjoyed your little midnight snack."

"I've a bit of a sweet tooth," he admitted. "Oh! By the way, I really hope you didn't eat any of the cake that was in there."

Oh, god. "What. Why. What is it. What did you do."

"I didn't do anything," he sighed. "Again, it was one of my friends from the other side. Don't worry, it isn't poisoned, but it…it's sort of charmed with a very…powerful aphrodisiac."

"WHAT."

He chuckled despite himself. "Don't worry, don't worry. I'm sure you can hold out," he said.

"You need to leave. Right now. Right now, go. I can't have you at my door," you insisted. "Go right now. The candle is almost halfway gone, please go."

Well, he did. This time, you waited until he left the hallway to snuff out the candle. And you watched after him just for safe measure. Just…just as he walked down the stairs.

Had his pants always been so tight?

Night 2

3AM

Around fifteen minutes ago, he had begun to read "bedtime stories" to you, for fun. Fairytales. Childrens' stories. It was innocent enough, really, but his voice sounded really tired, and for some reason it made your heart race. He did really have such a deep, lovely voice.

And now he put the book down. "I'm sorry. I'm very tired of childrens' stories. I…I hope you don't mind, but there is a book I've been meaning to finish, and I do love reading aloud to you. The topic of the book isn't exactly something one discusses in mixed company. But it's just you and me tonight and I feel somewhat of an emotional connection to you, my dear watcher." He chuckled to himself. "My dear voyeur."

"God, stop."

"Let's see, where was I—ah." He leafed to the appropriate page. "You'll be a bit in the dark if I just start right here, so I'll just catch you up to speed: the hero of the tale is in love with the villain of it, you see, and vice versa. And of course their love is forbidden, but they still have found a way to make love in secret. Here, he has just confessed his undying love to her, and while they've both acknowledged that they shall never be allowed to marry, they haven't agreed to call off their tryst. Let me just…put on my reading glasses. The letters are a lot smaller…"

Was this man about to jump from fairytales to erotica?

"'His lips sought her neck, his thirst for the forbidden taste of her skin enough to drive him mad. Where her fingers touched his skin, he burned, aflame with desire to bring her the pleasure he knew only he could achieve.'"

He needed to stop. He had to. The more he read, the more you watched his lips, the more difficult it was to sit still. You huddled up in the bed, far too bothered to get tired as he read page after page in that sleepy voice of his, occasionally licking his finger to flip to the next page. Well, this was one way to stay awake…

"'He could not control himself; not his hands as they touched her sweating thighs, not his hips as he—' oh, god. Ahah…I don't think I can read any more of this tonight," he confessed. But I trust you enjoyed."

What a cheeky little—

"It seems one of my friends isn't here with me," he said, glancing around. "Have you been checking the hallways?"

Well, shit.

Night 2

4AM

"I missed your voice while I was away," Hans said through the door, leaning against it as you lit your candle. "We've less than two hours left. Do you think I can stay?"

You did not understand why him asking such a simple question was so arousing to you but his voice was right there, outside the door, and you needed it. "Yes."

He chuckled. "It wasn't very fair of me to read to you from that book," he said. "I just wanted to get a rise out of you. Did it work?"

"Ye-yes."

"Did you like it?"

His voice was almost a purr, like a playful tiger who knows his prey is cornered. "I did."

"Hmmmmh. That book is wonderful at getting me through particularly lonely nights. Again, it has been so, so long since last I touched someone," he almost whispered. You had to lean against the door to hear him. "Too long since I've had these hands on someone. Or kissed them, from top to bottom…poured out my affections in the best way."

"Hhhhave you…slept with a lot of women?" you found yourself asking, despite yourself.

"Oh, yes. And men. And I've been told I'm very good at what I do."

There were so many questions you wanted answered; so many gritty, dirty, improper and downright impolite questions about every disgusting detail of his sex life. Where the fuck had this desire come from. But you didn't ask a single question, not one, just leaned against the door, breathing hard. He began to answer them on his own.

"I've been complimented on my capabilities with my hands," he said. "Apparently I've got an impressive grip. There was one girl I was with, she bruised really easily…in the mornings I could see the marks my fingers had left on her thighs and her rear and her hips, all purple and blue."

"Did she hate you for that?"

"She adored me for it."

You checked the mirror for his face. He wore the most self-pleased grin as he recounted such tales through your door. "What…else have you been complimented on?"

"Well, let's see…I've been told I have quite a large—uhm, perhaps we'll save that one for last. I've been told by several that I'm very perceptive."

"Perceptive?"

"To one's needs. I know where to, hm, find what I'm looking for."

"I can't imagine what you mean by that…"

"If you would permit me, I could show you."

Everything was so warm. You almost opened the door right then so he could show you, but you stopped yourself, about to open your mouth to tell him he should leave and take his temptation with him when he started to recount a detailed sexual encounter with another man who was apparently very limber.

Night 2

5AM

Just one hour to go. The candle was not going to make it, you knew, but you couldn't tell him to go away just yet.

Because now he was back in the habit of telling what he would do to you.

"I feel like I need to prove it to you," he said. "I feel very strongly about you believing what I can do. Especially that part about my tongue. It's true."

"Please," you breathed, ashamed at your desperation.

"If you open the door, I really could show you. I would caress every inch of you. Kiss your tender neck, and if you would permit me, leave behind a mark or two. I would keep you in my lap and not let you touch me until I had brought you a satisfying amount of pleasure. And you do want to touch me, don't you?"

"Yes."

"I would be as gentle as you need—unless gentle is not what you need. If anywhere I hurt you, I would kiss it until you felt better, my dear. My watcher. Can you believe me? Can you believe how gentle my touch would be to your soft skin? As I lift your dress above your head and my hands roam your breasts, shoulders, stomach, thighs…as you lie on your stomach and I'm above you, kneading the pain and tenseness from your back, dear, because tonight has been tense for you, I'm sure."

"It's been frustrating, at least."

He laughed quietly. "Can you imagine as I play with the soft lumps of your ass, can you imagine me telling you in your ear how nice your warmth feels in these lonely hands?"

"Yes, yes I can," you said. "I am. I'm imagining every word."

"Are you imagining my breath on your neck?"

"Yes, oh yes."

"On your thighs?"

"Prince Hans, please…"

"Won't you open the door so I can show you?"

You shook your head, which of course, he didn't hear; he just went on with his teasing promises of sensuality as you sat by the door with your knees scrunched to your chest, heart pounding as you watched a dark wisp of smoke rise from the candle.

You shot away from the door. "You need to leave. You have to leave, the candle is out. Please, please leave!"

"But—"

"Leave!"

You heard a sigh and a shuffle and he did, and you checked the mirrors, relieved to see Hans's shadow leaving with him.

The next ten minutes, you spent trying to calm yourself down, and then finally there was a knock on the door as someone unlocked it.

A very young man with reddish brown hair opened the door. "Oh good, another successful night, I see."