Ay! Here we are! Sorry it's so late, but I was feeling completely unmotivated to work on this chapter until this morning, and it's finally done! Buckle in and keep your peepers peeped; it's about to go down in a *lot* of ways.

*Speaking of which, spoiler/content warning: someone's gonna die, and it won't be pretty. It won't be super graphic either (at least I don't think it will be? I'm not good at judging my own goriness), but keep that in mind as you start reading. It's at about the halfway point.

See you at the bottom of the page!

The basement in the public library was a cramped little space, pitch dark and filled with the thick scent of grapes and dust. Despite the low ceiling hardly allowing him to do more than crawl on his hands and knees, Reginald had done everything he could think of to escape. He'd fiddled with the trap door's hinges, laid on his back and kicked at the lock for all he was worth; he'd even managed to grab a book so large that it could only be a copy of The Odyssey to beat at the door with. None of it worked.

So now, Reginald lay sprawled across the stone floor, weeping as visions of his time at the Beast's estate faded in and out of the darkness. The early days, when he and the Beast shot each other challenging smirks and sneers across the table as Sven ranted about table manners. The insatiably comfortable warmth of being curled up in the Beast's arms in the back room of the estate. His newfound joy for reading aloud and discussing all the books in the library with everyone who came to listen. That wonderfully perfect night, with the extravagant clothes and the exquisite food and the dancing and the love that had filled his soul for his friends, for his life, for his Beast.

A strangled gasp escaped Reginald's throat. The basement was built with intent to keep wine fresh and keep books undamaged, and his cries were taking up more air than there was to spare. He was going to die in this cellar, unable to do anything but mourn the loss of his loved ones. Terrence never made a promise to kill that he didn't keep, after all. Whether he slew the Beast or the Beast slew him, no one would come out of the battle completely unscathed. Lives would be lost, and it would be his fault. Reginald closed his eyes, trembling against the stone floor made warm and wet by his own tears, and sent out one last prayer to any god who might exist before unconsciousness began to overtake him.

The loudest banging crash Reginald had ever heard startled him awake, along with the sudden rush of air, sweet air. He coughed for a minute, peering up from his spot on the floor to see what had happened. The library was already a dim location, only made dimmer by the no doubt long dead embers in the fireplace, but there was a single figure standing above him, quivering slightly with age and effort.

"...Dusty?" Reginald crawled out of the basement and fell to his side, staring up at the town elder with utter befuddlement. "How- What- Who else-?" He squinted around the room, but there was no one in the library besides the two of them. "...How on Earth did you lift the door by yourself?!"

Dusty said nothing, but held up one arm at a right angle and patted his upper arm, as if to show off his nonexistent muscles. Reginald shook his head in a daze, but then again, Dusty had been the one in charge of Lil' Town, once upon a time. Perhaps the man still had some strength to him yet?

Reginald finally got to his knees and set his hands on Dusty's shoulders. "Thank you, Dusty! I can't say I know why or how you freed me, but thank you!" He planted a kiss on each cheek for good measure.

Dusty brushed him off, then pointed at the door to the library, arm quivering a bit in mid air. "Oh-! Yes, the Beast, the servants, I still have a chance to save them!" Reginald rushed for the door and threw it open, stumbling into the chilly, smoky air of Lil' Town-

He stopped short, staring at the sky above the Dark Forest with growing shock and fear. Huge, billowing clouds of smoke towered over everything, looming and terrible and very, very familiar. Reginald had seen smoke like that only once; when his childhood home burned down and took his mother with it. Only a house fire could summon that much smoke into the air, which could only mean one thing: the estate was on fire, somehow.

Reginald stumbled back and leaned heavily on the doorframe of the library, one hand clenched over his heart as his stomach turned over and over. His knees were shaking and a cold sweat was trickling down his back. Fire had taken everything from him once, and now it was going to do it again. His friends, his town, his Beast-!

Something poked him harshly in the back and he startled forward, turning to see Dusty squinting in late afternoon light. "Dusty," Reginald gasped, unable to say anything more. Dusty pointed toward the fire and tilted his head. "I don't- I can't-!" Dusty frowned and pointed more earnestly. Reginald dared another look towards the Dark Forest. The fire would be even bigger than the first one, and far more devastating. Even if the servants and the Beast managed to escape the building, the fire would spread faster than they could clamber into the woods-

His eyes widened. That was the thing, wasn't it? The servants couldn't run to the Dark Forest, even if that would save them. The spell that kept them all trapped in the grounds of the estate wouldn't likely make an exception for such devastation. They were trapped, with the choices of staying or running both leading to straight death. They needed help. They needed him.

Reginald sucked in as many deep breaths as he could manage, then turned to Dusty. "There's a river to the north of Lil' Town. Please, find a horse or some cattle and ride across it so the fire won't reach you. I- I need to go save my friends." He glanced again at the smoke. "...As soon as I figure out how," he muttered.

A horse whinnied loudly nearby, and Reginald nearly jumped out of his skin. Terrence's black mare was tied loosely to a nearby farm post. It tossed its mane and snorted at the fire, though it was unclear if it was afraid of the flames or eager to race through them. Given that it was Terrence's horse, it was probably the latter. A brief vision of Reginald's hypothermia-induced nightmares showed him that very same mare, with fire exploding out from its hooves with each powerful stride. He shook his head and approached the creature as quickly as he dared. "Steady on," he murmured gently, giving its flank a hesitant pat. When the horse didn't reject him immediately, he untied it from the post and scrambled onto its back. Reginald turned to Dusty- to give him more directions on what to do when he was out of the fire's range or anything else- but the mare reared back and galloped full force down the path. Reginald swallowed his fear down hard, the bouncing speed of the horse making him nauseous already. This was the only option. He had to save everyone, or die trying.

The trees closest to the estate were starting to smoulder by the time Reginald arrived. The grassy lawn was completely engulfed, leaving a single, narrow path in the middle leading directly to the estate's front doors. The fear in Reginald's stomach was so heavy that he nearly thought he'd fall off the mare, but he continued to swallow it all back and keep approaching. Despite almost the entire village having gone off to hunt down the Beast, he couldn't see anyone at all among the flames. His eyes stung. Had they, too, been engulfed by the fire?

Then he spotted some figures running into the woods and shouted after them. One or two of them paused as Reginald dragged the mare to a stop next to them. He recognized these two; they were both members of the Toppat Clan. "Reg?" One of them shouted over the roaring flames. "How'd you get out of the cellar?"

"Nevermind that," the other one yelled. "We need to get the hell out of here! Come with us, Reg; Suave's mad as a hatter, going after that beast in there!"

"He started slicing anyone who got in his way!" The first piped up. "Come with us! Come on!"

"I'm not leaving anyone behind!" Reginald insisted, his voice cracking with the fear in his heart. "Head to the north of Lil' Town and cross the river; you'll be safe there!" Then he snapped the mare's reins and dove into the fire.

It was hot, raging hot. Reginald pulled his shirt over his nose and mouth, squinting in the searing light for the front door. His biggest problem was that he had nothing to fight the fire with. Even if he somehow managed to carry the entire river on his back, it wouldn't be enough to quench these flames. Still, there had to be a way to save everyone; some room that would be as close to fire proof as possible where they could wait out the fire until it ran out of fuel. The dungeon, maybe? As far as he remembered, there were no tapestries or rugs there, so it was the safest bet at the moment.

Finally he saw the stairs and tugged on the mare's reins to draw it to a stop. Thankfully, the doors were left open, so he jumped off the horse, laid his cloak on top of its back, and smacked its flank. "Get out of here!" He shouted at it. The horse fixed him with a look, then began to trot back the way it had come, as if it were more upset at being sent away than being in the middle of a raging inferno. He watched it go for a moment, then threw up his hands and turned back to the estate. He was going into the fire. He was going into the fire. This was the most stupid thing he'd ever done, but it was too late to back out now. He couldn't save his mother all those years ago, but he could still save his friends. He ducked his head and ran inside.

The inside of the estate was hotter than the outside, and even as Reginald stayed as far from the flames as he could, he could still feel the sharp heat spreading across his skin. The fire was also loud, but not as loud as the distant, distant sound of a great creature roaring in pain. His Beast!

Knowing the way by heart now, Reginald dashed up the stairs and through the hallways, doubling back and around whenever there was too much fire to safely cross. None of the objects he passed screamed in pain or ran around in a panic, which was good… he hoped. But then where had the servants all gone?

The roars of pain from his Beast grew louder as he drew nearer, and he slowly began to hear another sound: a familiar voice yelling with glee. Reginald kicked down the door and gaped at the scene before him: the servants were crowded against the back of the room, stacked on top of each other and carefully shielding the glass dome that covered the witch's rose while the Beast and Terrence Suave wrestled in the center of the room. The Beast's cloak and shirt were gone, his pants full of tears and rips that no doubt came from the knife in Terrence's hands. That knife was clearly the only thing keeping Terrence alive, and he was using it with such wild dexterity that only the Beast's long limbs kept him from dealing a lethal blow. Still, his clawed hands and broad chest were caked with blood, and there would only be so much time until someone gained the upper hand.

"Terrence, STOP!" Reginald grabbed Terrence by the back of his collar and dragged him away from the fight. For once in his life, Terrence listened, likely because of his surprise at Reginald's presence more than anything else. Once Terrence was safely out of the way, Reginald threw his arms around his Beast, hugging him tightly in spite of the blood beginning to stain his clothes. If the Beast was still in any pain, he didn't show it, instead wrapping his arms around Reginald in turn.

"What the hell're you doin' here, Reg?" The Beast grunted over the sound of the fire.

"I had to make sure you were all okay!" Reginald buried his face in the Beast's chest, both out of a need to be close to him and out of a need to block out the blinding orange flames surrounding them. "I'm going to get you out of here; I'll find a way! I promise!"

"Reg-"

"Holy hell!" They turned to see Terrence had crawled back to his feet. Long bloody scratches crossed over his eye, there were bruises all across his face, and when he grinned, Reginald could see that a tooth was missing. "I had my suspicions, but I didn't think you'd actually fallen in love with a beast! Never knew I had such a freak in the sheets right under my nose. You think you know a guy…"

Reginald stood and faced Terrence, spreading his arms and legs wide to protect the others. "This has gone too far, Terrence!" He shouted. "You need to stop, now!"

Terrence's eyes flicked around the room, fire glinting in every direction he looked. "I dunno, I think I could go a little farther."

"Terrence, please! This isn't a joke! You are going to die if you don't stop what you're doing; do you understand that? You will die here!" Reginald reached out for his leader, the man who had saved him so long ago. "The Clan can't lose you! I can't lose you, even after all you've done! You have a duty to the people who follow you! Just put the knife down, and we can figure this out; please, Terrence!"

The grin slowly slid off of Terrence's face, and he regarded Reginald with those hard, dark eyes of his. He shook his head. "You sound just like your mother."

Reginald's heart stopped. "...What?"

Terrence twiddled his knife between his fingers, tiny rivulettes of blood spilling down whenever he nicked himself by accident. "Always telling me what to do, always nagging me about my choices and my duties. Well, let me make something clear!" He jabbed a thumb into his chest. "No one holds Terrence Suave down! No man, no woman, no beast, no one!" The knife was white hot as he pointed it at Reginald. "You're a sneaky one, you know that? Looking so damn pathetic and miserable and guilting me into saving you from the fire. Letting you drag me back to this crap town for years, letting you hold me down without me even noticing! Making me come back to check on you and see how you're doing and shoot the breeze with you! Just because you're my son!"

The words tore something deep inside Reginald to shreds, like a thousand bullets piercing his flesh one after another, leaving behind only a raw, painful rage made known by the horrendous scream exploding from his lungs as he charged Terrence and tackled him to the ground.

This man- his father- had killed his mother. He'd taken everything from him, and was going to do it again. Reginald was going to stop him, even if it killed him.

Terrence was quick to let go of the knife- as if the thrill of hand to hand was more enticing than an easy win- and they wrestled for control, Reginald getting as many licks as he gave as they tumbled one over the other for what felt like ages. Reginald's anger could only do so much, though, and soon, Terrence was pummeling him into the hot stone floor relentlessly, bruises and scrapes cropping up on every inch of Reginald's skin as he struggled to fight back. Terrence raised a fist to punch straight through his skull-

"I've had enough of this!" The Beast roared and charged forward, followed by those who were brave enough to join the fray. He plucked Terrence right off of Reginald and held him flat against the floor while the servants smacked him as much as they could. Reginald managed to sit up and stared in awe at his Beasts' blinding ginger fur that singed as the flames drew closer, the rippling muscle of his arm as he kept Terrence down; Terrence, who was struggling to push himself up and reaching for the forgotten knife just inches from his fingertips-

Reginald leapt across the room and grabbed the knife right as Terrence did the same, the awkward angle of Terrence's grip dragging the knife around in the air until Reginald got the upper hand…

And stabbed Terrence in the side of his neck.

Reginald scrambled back as soon as he realized what he did, recognizing his mistake too late as the knife was yanked out of the wound, letting blood spill in silent but deadly floods across the floor. Despite this, Terrence did not yell or scream in pain, and instead stared at Reginald from the corner of his eye, watching him until his eyes closed and he moved no more.

Reginald stared at his gloves, soaked with blood and cracked from all the damage he'd dealt, and sobbed. The Beast pulled him close and held him. "I killed him!" Reginald gasped, "I killed him, I killed my-!"

The Beast hushed him gently. "Y'did what ya had to do, Reg. It's okay."

"It's not okay! I'll- I'll never forgive myself-!"

"M-Master!" Someone shrieked, "the rose!"

The two of them sat up and turned to the very back of the room. The servants were gathered around the glass dome, inside which the rose's petals were getting singed and dropping from the stalk in quick succession. The Beast cursed and hurried over, lifting off the dome and throwing it away, shaking out his hand as he cradled the dying bud.

Reginald hurried over as quickly as he could, pain wracking every inch of his body and he looked despairingly at the witch's rose. It would no doubt be dead in hardly two minutes, most likely less, and it was his fault. "I'm so sorry," he whispered, then louder: "I'm sorry, all of you. I was trying to help you escape, but I just doomed you all instead…! I'm sorry!"

The Beast looked at him, not with anger or disappointment like he should have been, but with great contemplation, like he was considering something very deeply. He opened his mouth to say something…

Only for his ears to lay flat to his head and a vicious growl to spill out. The servants cried out and clambored further into the back of the room, all pointing at something behind Reginald. He turned, thinking that somehow Terrence had survived, but nothing could have prepared him for who was standing there.

"...Dusty?" Reginald blurted. Sure enough, the town elder was hobbling through the fire towards them, seeming to be completely unaware of the dangerous surroundings. Reginald hurried towards him, ready to catch him in his arms. "How on Earth did you get here? It's dangerous here, you can't-"

"Reg, NO!"

Before Reginald could turn around to ask his Beast what was wrong, Dusty lifted his hand and grabbed him around the neck, choking him with strength that should not have been possible for such an old man. Reginald grabbed at his throat, struggling for air as Dusty lifted him higher and higher… until he was no longer holding him. Reginald was hovering in mid air, unable to move as he grabbed at the invisible force that had him in a chokehold. Dusty tilted his head and smiled up at him. "Thank you for everything, Reginald. Now I have exactly what I need."

The Beast leapt forward, claws out and teeth bared, but with a flick of Dusty's hand, Reginald was suddenly on his knees, staring up at his Beast as he scrambled to a halt before them. The servants were yelling and crying, doing whatever they could to cling to one another in their limited forms. Reginald's eyes watered. There was only one person who could frighten them so: the wizard of the estate, his Beast's Master.

Dusty clicked his teeth at the Beast, even though Reginald was certain the man had nothing but gums in his mouth up until now, and lifted Reginald's chin with a single finger. "Whatever trick you played on me has ended, boy. It took nearly ten years, but I've finally regained my full power; now all that's left is to obtain my personal henchman."

The Beast growled, eyes flicking between the wizard and Reginald warily. Reginald turned his head as much as he could towards Dusty and stared up at him. Dusty seemed to understand what he was asking with his eyes.

"I apologize for the rough treatment, Reginald. In another life, you would have been a perfect servant. At this moment, however, I must use you as a bargaining chip to reclaim what is rightfully mine." Dusty lifted his other hand, and Terrence's knife lifted into the air, slowly hovering closer and closer to Reginald's face. The blade was still white hot from the fire, and Reginald's breaths came in short and fast.

"Stop it!" The Beast hissed. "What the hell do you want?"

Dusty regarded him coolly. "Exactly what I said, boy: I'm here to reclaim what I own. You've had your tantrum, but now it's time for you to serve your purpose. So," He pointed a finger at the Beast. "I assume you still know the words? I only made you learn them every day since you could speak. Swear yourself to me, and I won't harm your little pet. If you do it quickly, I might even let you keep him."

"Don't-!" Reginald choked, only to cry out as the hot blade came close, only centimeters away, singeing his skin and drawing forth the smell of cooking meat.

Dusty looked to the Beast again, frowning deeply. "The oath, boy. Swear it, and mean it."

The Beast fell to one knee, placing his hands flat to the hot stone floor and lowering his head. "...I do solemnly swear," he began, voice tight but not quiet, "to serve you, my master, in body, mind, and spirit. My body is yours to command and to puppet; nothing I do will be done without your word. My mind is yours to meld and mold; nothing I think will be thought without your say. My spirit is yours to bend and break; nothing I feel will be felt without your decree. I am yours to keep, you are mine to obey. All this I promise you, my master…" The Beast lifted his head and locked eyes with his new keeper: "...Reginald Copperbottom."

The estate was dead quiet. Even the flames seemed to quiet down as Reginald stared back at the Beast- his Beast- in silent shock, awe, and love, for however much longer it would last.

"Well," Dusty said after a beat. "I guess you've made your choice, then. Goodbye, Reginald-"

An ear shattering crash of thunder shook the room, cracking the floor and the walls and the ceiling as a sudden torrent of rain fell from the sky. Lightning pierced through the roof, blinding them all as it struck everyone standing at the back of the estate.

Reginald fell hard to the floor, vision still white even with his eyes closed, chilled and soaked to the bone in a matter of seconds as the fire was slowly put out. Steam and smoke filled his lungs, a surprisingly soothing experience as he regained his breath at last and relaxed with a sigh against the stone.

"Reg."

The voice was distant, or blunted from the earlier noise, but Reginald recognized it even so. Someone gently set their hands on his shoulders, pulling him to his knees and caressing his cheek with tender fragility. The hand was rough with scars and skin, but it was large and warm and perfect. Reginald forced his eyes open, looking into a human pair of eyes framed with long ginger hair and a long mustache. His pale chest and arms were bare, aside from a generous helping of curly hair growing thickly all around, and he no longer towered over Reginald by such an extreme.

Though the changes were many, there were far more similarities, and Reginald knew exactly who he was looking at. "It's you," he breathed, reaching up to brush a loose strand of red out of his Beast's eyes. "But how-"

"Master? Reginald? Is that you over there? I can't see anything, there's wax in my eyes!"

"Actually, my friend, I believe your eyes are simply closed."

"Speak up, there's wax in my ear."

"Geoffrey? Thomas?" Reginald turned and gasped at the literal piles of people crowding the back of the estate, struggling to get off of each other in complete disorientation. A short man with an oddly large head flopped his limbs around aimlessly while a much taller man patted the floor until he found a round monocle and set it into his eye, quickly doing the same with a second one in his other eye.

He gasped when he saw Reginald and the Beast and grinned at the shorter man, tapping his shoulder excitedly. "Look, Geoffrey! The Master and Reginald are alright!"

A tall, lanky man with an orange pair of ear mufflers recovered fairly quickly, and hoisted a much smaller man dressed in blue to his feet. The smaller man staggered and swayed, strange but familiar words waterfalling from his mouth. "Vad hände? Varför känner jag mig konstig…?"

"Take a deep breath, Sven," the man said softly. "Everything's okay now. Open your eyes for me, okay?"

He did, and his big blue eyes welled with tears that rivaled the rain. "Burt, min älskade!" he cried. "Vi är här! Vi lever-!"

Burt lifted him into the air and kissed him square on the lips. He grinned when he pulled away. "I've been waiting way too long to do that."

Sven buried his face into Burt's neck. "You- You are impossible… and w-wonderful..."

A woman with long black hair dressed in dark green raised her hands over head. "Is anyone missing? Everyone start pairing up!" A blonde woman with torn green rags barked and crawled over, wrapping her arms around the other woman's legs and grinning up at her. "Missed you too, Gremlin, but please let go; I'm gonna fall-" Carol yelped as she tumbled over backwards, dragging the other woman down with her. "...Naughty girl."

Humans of all shapes and sizes picked themselves up from the rubble, hugging and kissing one another as they laughed and cried together. The rain slowed considerably, the glow of the moon bright behind the clouds. Reginald threw his arms around his Beast, who returned the gesture with fervor. "But how?" He asked, peering up at the Beast. "You said the spell needed someone worthy…"

The Beast gave him an incredulous look. "Have a little more faith in yourself, Reg. Er, I mean," he quickly lowered his gaze, "Master."

"That's-" Reginald began. "I'm-"

A pile of stone behind him blew outwards, startling a yelp out of everyone. The Beast put himself in front of Reginald to take the brunt of the attack. Once the stones cleared, though, Reginald peered over his shoulder and gasped in fright. Dusty was floating a foot off the ground, knobby hands clenched into fists and a very, very angry look on his face.

"What is the meaning of this?!" His voice boomed, making the servants cower in fright. "What trickery is at play? Which of you worthless humans tampered with my spell? Step forward, now, before I turn you all to ashes!"

A high pitched cackle sounded out, though it quickly devolved into a series of hacking coughs. Reginald turned and saw an old woman dressed in lavender hobble forward. Her long hair was silver with a single dark streak near the front, and she grinned gleefully at Dusty between coughs. "That would be me, Sonny Jim. If you're gonna turn anyone to ashes, might as well be me… if you can manage it."

Dusty stared at the woman for a long time. "Who the hell are you? You're not one of my servants."

"Oh, but I was!" The woman replied. "Eleven years ago, when I was but the mere age of seventeen, you stole me from my home and forced me into servitude." She grinned crookedly at him. "Not so great a wizard if you can't even smell a witch right under your nose, eh?"

"A witch…" Dusty growled. "In my estate… So it was you who stole my power!"

"Yep, yep," the witch replied. "All according to plan. Admittedly, aging over a hundred years wasn't part of the plan, but who knows? Maybe I'll get used to it, or I'll find a way to reverse it; we'll have to see! First thing's first though," she pointed a knobby finger right at Dusty. "Looks like the trash hasn't taken itself out, so I guess it's up to me. Say goodbye, you old fart! Go back to the dust from whence you came, or some crap!"

Dusty's hands flew to shield himself, but it was too late. In an instant, he crumbled into dust, and the rain dragged it to the ground and turned it into mush. The witch sighed, leaning heavily on the table she once sat upon. "I can feel the years melting away already! Or maybe that's my skin; who knows."

"Wait, so…" Reginald startled a bit as all eyes turned to him. "Then this means you're free? You're all free?"

Thomas adjusted his monocles. "Well, the curse is broken, but I'm unsure if-"

"Of course we're free to go!" The witch interrupted. "Did you forget my spell already? I said that all our spells would be reversed, not just the curse! Check your necks; you'll see!"

Burt spun Sven around and pulled down the collar of his shirt. Sven yelped and squirmed, rambling about decency and decorum, but whatever Burt was looking for, he saw it. He crushed Sven from behind in a bear hug, swaying him back and forth. "We're free," he almost sang into Sven's hair, "We're really free…!"

The other servants began to check each other's necks as well; as far as Reginald could tell, there was nothing there, but the Beast leaned down to his ear to whisper. "Every human born or brought here got marked with a spell to keep them from leaving. I never had one, but if the witch is right, then it means we can all leave."

Reginald hugged him again. "I'm so happy," he murmured into his chest, "I'm so happy…" Then he blinked a few times, suddenly coming to a realization. "Oh my, how terrible of me!"

"What's wrong, R- Master?"

"I just realized something." Reginald felt his cheeks turn warm, especially as everyone looked at him again. "All this time, all the days we spent together… I never once asked you for your name! How on Earth did I forget to ask for so long? Please," he looked into his "Beast's" eyes earnestly, "won't you tell me what your name is?"

The "Beast" lowered his gaze again, cheeks flushing a pretty pink. "I… don't actually have a name," he muttered. "The wizard never gave me one; I was supposed to be his henchman, so he didn't think I needed a name. Um…" He shuffled his bare feet on the stone, peering at Reginald as if afraid of being reprimanded. "Would… would you please give me a name, Master?"

Reginald gazed at his "Beast" for a long moment. It was an honest request, but what name could possibly encompass everything he was to him? And the way he called Reginald "Master"... that wouldn't do at all, but how could he ask for that without ordering him about? The "Beast" might have been raised to be a henchman, but Reginald didn't need a henchman. He wanted an equal, someone close, a partner, an extension of himself…

Reginald blinked as the idea came to him, and he carefully lowered himself to one knee, holding his "Beast's" hands and gazing up into his eyes.

"Um, Master-?"

"I, Reginald Copperbottom," Reginald began, speaking as loudly and clearly as he could, "do swear to serve you in body, mind, and spirit. My body is yours to hold and caress; everything we do together will be a gift for us to share. My mind is yours to cherish and regard; every thought we think together will be as powerful as any magic. My spirit is yours to worship and love; every feeling we feel together will make gods jealous. I am yours, and you are mine. All of this- and more- I promise to you, my love, my darling… my Right Hand Man."

He blinked at Reginald a few times. "...Right Hand Man?" he asked after a beat.

"Well," Reginald fiddled with their hands shyly, "you're far more to me than a henchman. Without you, I wouldn't be here, and without me, you wouldn't be free. We're more than master and servant; we're partners, halves of a whole." Reginald slowly rose to his feet, still grasping their hands. "You are a part of me, as essential as my right hand, and I want so much more than mindless devotion. I want to be yours, and I want you to be mine. So…?" Reginald swung their hands together lightly. "What do you think? Would you be keen…?"

He stared at Reginald with a look in his eyes that made his heart soar: a look of wonder and love that Reginald needed like air and food and water. "Sure," said his Right Hand Man, "I like the sound of it… Reg."

"I'm glad," Reginald whispered, then stood on his toes and leaned forward. His Right Hand Man was quick to catch on and lifted him into his arms, kissing him long and hard in what was undoubtedly the happiest moment of Reginald's life, and somehow, he knew that things would only go up from here.

"Well," the witch blurted. "If that isn't a wedding proposal, I don't know what is! You're gonna have to wait for Sven and Burt, though; they came first."

"Yep, that's right," Burt said, suddenly falling to one knee and taking Sven's hands. "Sven, I know I don't have a ring because I've literally been a box for the past ten years, but-"

Sven threw himself on top of Burt and they fell to the floor, Svens blubbering mixing with the cheers and joy and relief rising up from the crowd. Reginald applauded heartily, peeking up at his Right Hand Man and catching his eyes. They were quick to look away from each other, but Reginald felt a pair of wonderfully strong arms wrap around him from behind as his Right Hand Man settled his chin on top of his head with a huff.

Everything truly was perfect.

Yay, it's a happy ending, yay!

Gosh, where to start? Well, let's start with the smallest of the elephants in the room: Terrence Suave, aka Reginald's dad! Whoops, you killed your dad, Reginald! Eh, it's fine; he killed your mom first. I know the details are a bit thin in that area (lore dumping and action sequences in tandem are extremely difficult to write), but from what I imagine, Terrence popped into Lil' Town one day, did a little dance with Reginald's mom, disappeared for eighteen or so years, came back to see her, got into an argument, and then burned her house down, only to accidentally discover a kid inside- his kid!- and dragged him outside to save him from the fire (hence the part of Reginald's dream where someone yanked him away from his mother's bedroom door). The recent visit with Reginald's mom, as poorly as it ended, left Terrence with enough guilt to try and take Reginald under his wing, which worked great until Reginald kept missing Lil' Town and Terrence felt the fatherly need to help build him a house there, coming by every so often to visit until as some point he realized "wait, I'm supposed to be a free soul, wandering around as I see fit; I can't do that if I keep going back to the same place over and over!" And then the Beast kind of ended up being a substitute for his frustrations for Reg, until Reg showed up and Terrence was like "ah, screw it, time to kill the boy", and then Reginald killed him first. Is all of that dumb? Yeah. Is it probable? Unfortunately, anything is probable, especially with weird guys like Terrence who live by their own extreme rules.

Up next, let's talk about Dusty! There were a few subtle hints about his identity in the first chapter: his incredible and uncertain age, his total stillness as a means of collecting magic energy, his ability to hightail it out of the library when he heard that Terrence was popping in... Very subtle hints, but they were there! And now they're very much out in the open, in the form of Dusty's dusty corpse (luckily, it was raining, so we don't have to worry about inhaling him). How did he not realize he had a witch in his house for a whole year? I'm thinking he was either way over confident or way too distracted by getting everything for the henchman ceremony (which would only be about a year or so away.)

Speaking of ages: here's everyone's ages (I think; math is weird)

Dusty: old as balls

Right Hand Man/The Beast: 18 at the time of his transformation, 28 at the end of the story (cursed for ten years)

Reginald Copperbottom:18 when his house burned down, 23 by the end of the story (lost his mom five years prior to the story)

Sven Svensson and Burt Curtis: 19 at the time of their transformations, 19 at the end of the story (objects don't age like living creatures do, so they basically got ten free years (which were absolutely not worth it))

Carol Cross: Early forties at the time of her transformation, early forties at the end of the story (see above)

Thomas Chestershire: Late fifties to early sixties at the time of his transformation, late fifties to early sixties at the end of the story (see above)

Geoffrey Plumb: Late sixties at the time of his transformation, late sixties at the end of the story (see above)

Gremlin: 16 at the time of her transformation, 16 at the end of the story (see above)

The Witch: 17 when captured by Dusty, 18 at the time of her transformation, 118 at the end of the story (spooky magic bull crap)

Terrence Suave: Early twenties when Reginald was born, early forties when the fire happened, mid to late forties at the end of the story (bro died lol)

Next week: Time to wrap things up with a sweet little epilogue, and then: announcements! Anyone curious about future projects and such should stay tuned! For now, though, leave a review and tell me if you liked this chapter! I'll see you next week; until then!