Night 5

12AM

No note, again. Nothing to ground you in reality. Nothing to remind you not to cave in, that Hans would try his damnedest to trip you up, that he was scum.

Good. You didn't want to read words like that anyway. None of his brothers understood how tortured poor Hans was, day and night, how no matter what his past had held he was now so broken that he now cherished the simplest things—like hearing someone speak kindly to him. He was so misunderstood. And so lonely! He'd made friends with his shadows.

And you knew that if you kept up thinking like this, the moment he opened his mouth you would open the door. Those shadows of his were his demons. He deserved them, for whatever reason, and hadn't faced the redemption to rid himself of them. He was manipulative. He was already in your head. He was desperate to get inside with you.

But he was so lonely. And so kind to you, albeit a little obsessive, but that was understandable seeing as you were the only one who cared to treat him like a human being, and—was he going to get out of bed any time soon? You needed to not be alone with these thoughts.

"Mmm, good morning," he said at last, still lying on his bed. You didn't realize his shadows had unshackled him. "Or…night, I suppose." He sounded tired, but comfortably, with an abundance of relaxed breath and a peaceful smile on his face.

Something about that scratchy voice made your heart speed up. Were you really that excited to see him?

You shivered, noticing for the first time how cold it was in here. And Prince Hans, all bundled up in his bed, messy head of hair resting on a plump pillow, looked nice and warm down there. In fact, he looked well-rested; a drastic improvement from the first night you had met him.

His moss-green bedcover shifted sharply and he drew a little gasp. You could see his bare, freckled, sweat-sheened shoulder and at once realized that one: he was naked; and two: he was a lot warmer down there than you were up here.

His breathing hitched and he tensed up for a moment. You watched his ginger gold eyes roll and flutter shut, his jaw clenching. Was he in pain?

"I've been thinking about you all day, beloved," he said, falling peacefully limp with a huff. "The last time I thought this much about any woman…well, the situation was just as unhealthy."

"I've thought about you, too," you said before remembering he couldn't hear you. Thoughts of him had kept you up most of the day, in fact, when you should have been sleeping. It was like he was trying to trade you his insomnia for a peaceful day's sleep. If that was the case, you didn't actually mind. "It's ridiculous that I don't care whether you're trying to manipulate me," you recognized aloud, finding comfort in the fact you were out of his earshot. "I should care. You're a bad man, or you were, and your past is full of shadows I haven't begun to understand. Maybe I am under the delusion that, somehow, I can really save you."

The sudden movement of a shadow in the mirror alerted you to your surveillance duties. You followed the fiend halfway down a corridor where it…stopped. It just stayed there, for a solid minute.

Pretending to be concerned for a minute more, you soon switched your view back to Hans and his practical prison. He sat up in bed, shirtless, sheets bunched around his waist, scattered twinkles of sweat shining blue across his chest in the dim light, a hand combing through his damp auburn hair. You nearly dropped the mirror, but you didn't want to stop staring.

"You want to know what I dreamed about this time?" He sounded so peaceful, leaning lazily back on one hand, warming the other by tucking it under the sheets. His eyes were half-lidded and liquid, warm, melted. "I dreamed…that you and I were outside. Feeling the rain on our skin and the crisp, cool air, with clouds there miles and miles above us. We did nothing, just stood there together, and when you touched my hand, I woke up."

Your fingers touched the glass.

"And once I was awake, I tried to continue the dream on my own." A little smile lifted the corner of his lips and he looked down at where his arm had disappeared under the blankets. "We kissed in the rain. You loved how you could see me through my wet, clinging shirt. I loved the same thing about you. And then I lifted your skirt and I—"

You heard a rattling at your door and quickly called the mirror to show you your hallway, body buzzing with adrenaline as you lit your candle.

When you looked for Hans again, heart still pumping, his breathing was audible. It sounded somewhat labored. The muscles in his right arm flexed. You squinted.

"Mm, hmm!" His teeth dug hard into his bottom lip as he sucked a loud breath through his nose. "A-ah…forgive me, my dear. You know how lonely I am."

Night 5

1AM

He had thrown on clothes very lazily, walking around the house in only his shirt with the sleeves pushed to his elbows, and his pants and socks. The collar of his shirt stuck up on one side and drooped on the other, and the top few buttons were undone. He had debated aloud as to whether or not he would shave, but ultimately decided against it, and now he sat on top of the dining table, licking his fingers of the sweet desserts he had just allowed himself for breakfast. "I feel good about tonight," he said. "I don't know why. I just feel at peace. What time is it? Too early to come see you?"

The shadow hadn't left. Another had joined at the window. While he wandered the house in relative nonchalance, you fretted over how quickly the candle burned. Of course, since they were already here, it couldn't hurt for him to stop by.

He took his time, anyway, and sat down to read. He looked up over the top of that one bookhe had read to you, somehow locking eyes with you as though he knew from where the mirror would reveal him. He didn't read aloud, and you wished he would.

You noticed him cross his legs. He started biting the tip of his tongue, and then his lip, and you felt this dark and compelling need to be in the room with him. Walls down, you explored that needing part of your mind. You wanted to plant yourself on his lap and kiss him, bite that lip for him.

Walls up again. Your cheeks felt like fire. He had to stop doing this to you. He wasn't…he wasn't even doing anything and he was doing things to you.

Night 5

2AM

"Hello."

"Hi."

You heard the door creak as he sat down against it. The candle flickered hypnotically as you two sat in silence.

"I don't know how much longer I can take this. Not touching you."

"Hans, please…"

"I know it's not love," he said. "I mean, it might be. But whether it is or not, I need you. I need to hold you, my dear, my watcher."

"I know," you said.

And there was silence through the door. But you felt his presence and you could feel that he was comforted by yours. Then he started to hum something; not a song you knew, but you liked the melody. It was low. You hadn't thought his voice could go so…deep.

And it was scratchy too.

"My darling?" he said after a while. "Will you please open the door again? I need to see your face."

"Hans…"

"Then just…just talk to me," he said. "If I can't touch you, make me feel something."

You looked at him through the mirror. How had you gotten so attached in five nights? So you looked at the short candle, and its height only worried you mildly. With a sigh, you relaxed against the door, put your hand to it. "You want to hold me."

"Yes."

"I would let you. I would rest my head and hands on your chest. And I would lean into you and…and trust you."

"Trust me?" There was a laugh on his breath, as if you were making a joke, but when you said yes with full sincerity, he went silent.

"Did you pay attention to how tall you are compared to me? Several inches, at least. And I bet you're very warm."

"I imagine you are," he mused, closing his eyes. "I would hold you securely. And cradle your head, if you would let me."

"I would," you said.

You went on about how you would sit with him and smile at him and laugh with him and you swear he was blinking away tears. Something in them was more than happiness; it was grief, longing. Talking about this would only make it worse for him, you were sure.

"And then, your highness," you said, changing your tone halfway through giving him a mental picture of dancing with you under the stars, "I…I would kneel before you."

You heard his breath stutter. "You—and then what, exactly?"

Blushing too hard to go on, and certainly not educated enough to know what to say you would do next, you offered, "I would let you do what you want with me."

The ball was in his court now.

And he was on it.

"Well, I—Well. Well," he began, clearing his throat. "I would start by kneeling in front of you, face to face, and telling you to stand up. And then, my love, I would tell you to grab on tightly to my hair and to not let go, and you wouldn't. Because next, I would lift your skirt and press my warm, strong fingers against you. And I would untie your underthings with my teeth."

He began to shock you with the passion in his speech; passion and bluntness. And you wanted every second of what he had to say, and you could feel needy sounds trying to leave you, and you wondered if he would like it if you just—"Mmm."

He paused mid-sentence with his mouth hanging open, green eyes widening, and then narrowing. The prince shifted, set his jaw, and lifted his chin. "Well, then. If you made sounds like that I should pleasure you even more with my tongue. My nose would be pressed deeply into you, my hot breath clinging to you. And once I finished you down there, I would travel upward, to your stomach—"

You let your head fall against the door. He was particularly descriptive tonight. Your fingernails scratched at the floor.

"Please let me in so I can show you," he begged, out of nowhere. You almost reached up for the doorhandle. "Please, please, I just want to make you feel so good."

Scrambling away from the door, you covered yourself with your hands as though you had been caught naked. "Hans, this is ridiculous. We can't do those things. I-I can't let you in. I'll die."

"Well if I never touch you as long as we live, I…"

He was quiet.

You heard his footsteps fading away and you ran to the door. "Hans, don't go. Listen, I. Just because I can't let you in doesn't mean we can't enjoy right now, right?"

"Well there's only so much we can do by talking." There was a bitterness in his voice you hadn't heard before. It had a dangerous edge to it. "How many times can I say 'I want to be holding you' before it loses its flavor? How many times can I picture running my hands through your hair before I'm numb to the thought? I'm tired of this."

This was all just a big mistake. Oh you should never have taken this job.

You let him make his point, and he walked away again. With him went his shadows. You blew out the candle.

Night 5

3AM

You waited. You read. You watched him. He did nothing.

Absolutely nothing. He didn't try to seduce you or so much as speak to you. He looked dejected. He buttoned his shirt up the rest of the way.

For an entire hour. Nothing. Even his shadows didn't bother you.

It gave you some time to think, at least. You knew that you had gotten to attached. You couldn't keep this up every night.

Night 5

5AM

You woke up. You had drifted off. Your letter of resignation lie unfinished and ink-splotched under your weary head and hand.

You heard—more like felt—a faint, ghostly humming. Sudden terror made your heart stumble over itself as you grappled to light the candle. The black shadow crawling through the underneath of the door recoiled. You were shaking like crazy.

"Show me Hans," you told the mirror.

It showed you an empty, old, dark room. Confused, you checked Hans's room, the library, other rooms you knew he might be in. "Show me Hans," you said again.

The same room.

There were no sconces or candles lit. There was one chaise, a single bookshelf that only went halfway up the wall, one window fit snugly in an alcove and framed by dusty green drapes.

And there Hans was, lying on a cushion. Asleep, likely. He blended in with the shadows, trimmed like everything else with silvery moonlight.

"How long have you been there?" you sighed. "My lonely prince. I just…wish it were different. Please, please come back to me so I can apologize. I want to let you in."

Fixing yourself in your reflection, you looked from the mirror to your letter. Whoever that Prince Theo was, you knew he wouldn't hold it against you for quitting, so at least one out of twelve brothers wouldn't be angry with you.

Either way, you couldn't leave Hans on that note.

You checked the hallway. The shadow was still out there. It looked like a person; like a young woman, almost. And it seemed to have more than just two dimensions, somehow. Well, if the shadows had a mind of their own, could they be reasoned with?

You stood as close to the door as you could, trembling a little. You addressed the shadow through the door. "I don't know if you can hear or understand me," you said, "but I need to talk to Hans."

The shadow emitted a faint red glow. You nearly dropped the mirror.

"I don't know what you are except that you're trapped to Hans. You represent sins of his past or something, and you're…all kinds of negative. I don't know why you should help me, but could you bring Hans here to me?"

After a brief moment of nothing, the shadow vanished.

Oh, well.

—

It had been almost fifteen minutes since you had talked to the shadow. You'd cleaned up your letter as best you could and finished it.

You had around 40 minutes left. Maybe you should just tear up the letter. Maybe you should burn it. You couldn't leave Hans like this.

Then there was a knock.

"Hans?"

"Yes."

You looked at him through the magic mirror. He was surrounded by all of his shadows. The one you had spoken to was bearing down on him, like an actual weight on his shoulders. Another one stood off to the side of him, looking up at him, and you felt an air of disappointment and loss. You had never paid attention to his shadows before, always so afraid of them.

Lighting the candle, you stood facing the door to talk to him. "I've penned my resignation, Hans. Tonight is my last—"

"What? No, don't, please don't leave!"

"Hans, I can't do this," you said. "I-I-I care…I care for you very much. So much that I've often and thoroughly considered putting my life at stake to make you happy. And when it comes down to it, you and I want different things, and…"

"Please don't."

"You don't. Don't make this harder on me. I was meant to watch over you, I was never meant to…to…"

"To what, love me? If you loved me you wouldn't leave!"

"So loving you means I have to put myself second?" You instantly regretted your harshness.

It made Hans silent, though. He sighed heavily, deflating as though the shadow on his shoulders was physically pushing the life out of him. His other shadows grew darker. It seemed there were more of them now, all crowding around him.

You felt the sudden urge to go out there, push yourself through them, and hug him, cradle his sorry head to your chest. "I'm sorry."

"No, I am. And if this is really your last night then I'll go."

"No, stay with me," you said. "Let's just have one more night, just talk."

He looked up. Suddenly you were looking into his green eyes. A quizzical look crossed his face and then he smiled, a touch menacingly. "Just talk? Like nothing happened? All right, then, what do you want to talk about?"

"I…just meant I want to still hear your voice."

"Okay, then, so shall I tell you more about my tortured past?" he said, voice calming, demeanor calming, shadows around him beginning to spread out from him. As though in fear. "Should I open up to you more about the things I've never told anybody? Or should I tell you all the things I've done wrong, the families I cheated and robbed, the stable boy I framed, the princess I used and left to die, the queen I tried to behead? The innocent steward I had beheaded, the murderer I set free?"

"Stop, please!"

"Love me less? Scared of me? Does this make it easier?"

Your head was spinning. This was a lot at once.

"Does it?"

"Hans, calm down," you said. "I don't care about that. I told you I don't care about your past. that was years ago."

"But it's all still here," he said. "You still care about it. Of course you do. I'm surrounded by my evils and that's why you can't let me in."

"That's different. Hans, I don't care to discuss this."

"Fine! Then what should I talk about? How much I crave you?" His anger began to melt into need. You could physically see him trying to hold onto being angry at you, but it just turned into desperation. "How I feel so vulnerable when I talk to you? How I wish I could touch you, how bad it hurts that you won't let me. Oh, god, I want to make you feel so good, and touch and kiss every tender part of your needing body."

"Hans…"

Tears began rolling down his face all at once. "How I just want to hold you. Just hold you. Just hold a person…who cares about me…and misses me when I'm gone. Do you?"

"Yes, yes I do."

"Then open the goddamn door! Open it if you care more about me than the things I've done."

"Hans…"

"Open it and I swear I will do everything in my power to pleasure you," he begged. "I'll protect you, I won't let them hurt you. Just pay them no mind. Just let me hold you, carry you to the bed, kiss your tender lips and your neck. I'll dress you down and caress every curve of your perfect body. Direct me where to touch you, where and how to kiss you. I'll praise you with my eyes and lips…"

"I want that, I do," you said, your heart racing, head buzzing. "I can't…"

"Yes you can," he breathed. "You can. I won't let anything happen to you. It can just be tonight and then you can be done with me. Please, I have no other way of giving back to you everything you've done for me. You don't have to lift a finger. I will be your willing servant. I will be anything you want and everything you need."

"God. Hans, please."

"Please what."

"Please, do," you breathed. You had set the candle on the floor, mirror lain beside it.

You wrenched the door open, heart dropping to your toes as you did, faced by every one of Hans's shadows.

There he was in the flesh, even more beautiful than the last time you'd seen him, for he was vulnerable and tired, scruffy-faced and messy-haired, eyes in agony and rapture all at once.

You dragged him right in by his shirt and kicked the door closed, trapping the shadows outside.