Chapter Text
“Little one... Why are you so deep into the forest?”
You tremble beneath the intensity of his brooding eyes. Why are you here? His question rings hauntingly through your mind and you look at your dirtied boots. The mud and twigs that cover the beaten work shoes are strikingly out of place compared to his large bare feet. You feel inferior... and humiliation pricks at the tips of your ears.
“I.. don’t know,” you mumble honestly. A feeling of foolishness overcomes you because of how small and insecure you sound compared to his strong baritone. You dare to steal another peek at the man and you find that his expression has not changed from its indifference. For a few seconds, you grasp the courage to gaze back and the sight of minuscule flecks of gold fluttering around his irises makes your stomach twirl. The reason why you react in such a way is unknown. Before you can delve any deeper into your thoughts, however, the beast turns around and walks away.
Is that it? You wonder. The breath weaving inside your lungs feels thick and you start to panic. How are you supposed to get back home? The trees used to be your friend but now they rise above you, challenging you to try and find your way back. You almost become lost in their mocking before a voice interrupts.
“Follow me,” the tall man rasps out and the sound stills the fluttering birds in the trees to silence. Even you cannot deny the pure dominance laced in his voice. It’s for that very reason that you decide to follow him from a safe distance away.
Is he even a man? His legs rival any other human you’ve laid eyes on. Even the most built and stocky man in your town wouldn’t compare to the entity in front of you. He walks with so much elegance that you feel clumsy trudging behind him, stomping and squashing your feet into the hard terrain.
You have no doubt that whatever he is, he was formed and created for these very woods. He tilts his head upwards like he can interpret the language of the wind. A ghost of a smile perks at his lips when it brushes through his long unruly locks. His hands don’t swing about like the commoners you’ve lived your whole life with. Instead, they are neatly clasped behind his back, and you muse on how similar the stance looks to the warriors in town.
You’re not sure where you are going or why you are following him. Perhaps it is because of the very reason you came here in the first place. Somewhere in the complicated depths of your soul, you have always known that you weren’t destined for the small life that was given to you. A deep and guttural longing for something extraordinary has been in your heart since you were little. When you were young, the other girls often called you names. They ridiculed you for wanting to explore the forest instead of playing pretend-wedding with them. That was yet another thing you loathed the idea of; marriage. Most of the women your age have already wedded to their “perfect match’’ as they so often call it. While a small part of you wishes for someone to hold close and grow old with, a bigger part of you just loves how your life is in the present.
But the present is becoming more and more uncertain by the minute. The tree branches begin to blend with the darkness, mimicking arms that sway in the current of the wind. If it wasn’t for the man in front of you, your imagination would be your enemy and fear would be your best friend.
“Where are we going?” you whisper, unsure if you should even speak freely. His neck shifts to the right, acknowledging the question but not looking directly at you. It takes about three steps for him to answer.
“My home. I will give you quarters to rest during the night and then I will guide you back to the town you came from.” the curls in his hair move slightly with every gargantuan step he takes. He must be extremely fit, for he doesn't heave for a breath of oxygen. Instead, his voice is calm.
You, unfortunately, are not like the beast. The icy winter air stings your nose as you pant and scrunch your eyebrows in apprehension. His home? While you are very grateful for the gesture, you are no fool. A lonesome woman alone in the middle of the woods, weak and in need of shelter. It would be any sick, perverted man's dream. He must sense your immediate flood of worries because he slows his legs to fall in tune with your scuffling pace.
“Don’t worry. I don’t intend to take advantage of you,” you look up at him, who is now comfortably walking beside you. You sniffle and wipe your nose with your sleeve, completely missing the way his eyes trail your side profile the moment you look away.
“There are more dangers that would have awaited you, had I left you to fend for yourself. That is the reason I am inclined to give you somewhere to sleep for the night.”
Although his words are very gentle and courteous, you don't miss the powerful lilt of his speech. You want to believe and trust that his words ring with the truth but you want to remain cautious. If he was the beast that the legends spoke of, there is a raw and animalistic side to him that could very much rip you to shreds.
You don’t doubt his ability to be able to snap your neck like a twig. You also don’t doubt his words. So you settle for a content medium, staying cautious while hoping that he will do as he says.
Your feet are covered with blisters and ache for rest by the time you make it to his home. Inwardly, you gape at the sight in front of you because ‘home’ was a very modest term to attach to this structure of beauty. It looks like it has been resting on the land for centuries. The mighty silver blocks of the outside walls are seamlessly melded together. On top of them, friendly vines rest their leaves. No, this is not a home but a palace, grand and standing so tall that the tip of the tallest tower kisses the fluffy clouds above.
The dark of the night only adds to the mystery that shrouds the man in front of you. He leads you to a humble door and you note that this must be somewhere in the back of the palace. Your knees ache as you climb the stairs and attempt to withhold a groan from the pain. Clinking registers in your hearing and you tilt your head towards the sound. In his hands are a set of keys and he takes one between his dirtied fingers to insert into the lock.
The door opens with a creak, and the brightness of candlelight meets your eyes. He stands to the side with a calm expression and it takes you a moment to realize that he's holding the door open for you to enter. Your neck burns from his expectant stare and you hobble into the hallway.
“You must be hungry,” he rasps, voice mixing with the sound of the shutting door. Unsure of how to respond, you nod in agreement. Deep inside your mind, you fear that if you were to say yes then it would seem too hasty. The very fact that he is giving you somewhere to sleep is generous enough. He slightly smiles at the sight of you, a total mess and beautiful.
“I will have Jean give you something to eat in your quarters. I can tell you’re exhausted,” Unable to deny the truth, you bashfully look to the ground. If he sees your expression, he says nothing but instead nods his head to the left of the hallway and starts walking. You follow him, surprised at the sight of his features. From the movement, his hair moved the tiniest bit away from his face, revealing sharp cheekbones and something else.
A scar perhaps? There was an unmistakable roughness along his left cheek. Maybe it was a burn scar. You muse on the discovery while weaving through multiple hallways. His bare feet leave a large echo through the silent castle. To your demise, he is even more striking in the light. The flames from the candles cast shadows along his neck and hands. A golden hue emanates from his skin and contrasts against the icy color of the grey walls.
Now that you are out of the eerie woods (and can catch your breath), you can observe his clothing. The cloth that adorns his body is black and simple. His shirt is long-sleeved and linen, like his pants. It suits him, you think. Modest and simple, yet mysterious and free.
“Here is your room, I’ve put you next to Jean, my housemaid, and dear friend. Should you need anything, she will assist you,” your admiration of him is cut short by his sentences. You smile and bow, gratefulness swelling within your chest.
“Thank you for your generosity and kindness,” you wish you could add more like is there anything I can do to repay you? However, you would be setting yourself up for multiple possibilities that aren’t kind, so you leave it alone. With one last fleeting glance towards you, he moves to walk down another corridor and vanishes into its dark depths for the night.
Now that you are alone, you let out a large pain-filled groan and scrunch your eyes shut. How you wish for the solace of a nice bed and a warm meal. You reach for the handle of the wooden door and twist it open to reveal the most splendid sight that you’ve ever seen.
The room is bigger than your entire cottage and the walls are a deep, soothing shade of navy blue. Silver furniture contrasts beautifully with the dark room and the color scheme surrounds you as you walk further in. A canopy is located at the center and from it, wintery colored fabric cascades onto the bed.
“A room fit for a princess,” you whisper into the warm air, gliding your eyes over every inch and detail of the place. It’s nothing short of magical. You walk to the bed and run your fingers over the navy bedding and discover that the blanket is incredibly soft and fluffy. Never have you felt such high-quality things in town. The closest you've gotten was an imported silk handkerchief from a faraway land of which you cannot remember the name. A gentle knock on the door breaks you from your reverie and you straighten yourself.
“It’s Jean, dear. May I come in?” You tell her, yes and she comes into the room with a benign look upon her face. She's older in age with grey and white streaks mixing into her inky black hair, which is pulled back in an elegant braid. Jean’s eyes are a deep blue with crinkles at the corners. However, the wrinkles don't age her. You observe that they make her even more beautiful, if that's possible. Simple linenes adorn her body and the colors suit her complexion very well
“Here is your supper, I hope it’s to your liking. You must be famished after the long journey here,” she states, setting down a tray of bread and soup on the small table in front of the fireplace.
“Thank you for the food, I really appreciate it,” you walk towards her and lean down to sit on the floor cushion beneath the table. Every muscle in your body feels unpleasantly numb but the hunger that encompasses you matters the most. Jean gracefully walks towards the fireplace and crouches near the wood. Her hands busy themselves with starting a fire as her braid cascades down the length of her back.
“Would you mind if I ask you a few questions, Ms. Jean?” you query in-between sips of the delightfully warm meal. With every bite, you feel a little bit more human. She nods with her cheeks curling into a smile. You observe her beauty while mustering the courage to ask a question that feels so out of place within the pristine walls of this palace.
“Your master… what is he? Surely he can’t be human,” her hands still the moment you say the words. A pang of regret seeps into your chest at her reaction. Was it too forward or perhaps, rude even, to ask?
“I’m so sorry, it was rude of me to ask. Forget I even said anything,” you immediately backtrack. But to your surprise, she shakes her head.
“No no, dear, you’re fine. It’s only normal that you’re curious about him,” she gently smiles at you while the fire starts to kindle.
“Master Jeon is not human, you are correct about that, but please don’t let that intimidate you. He has a kind and gentle heart,”
You ponder her words as the information sinks in. Your thoughts are correct then... he isn't human. A few minutes of comfortable silence pass and the fire roars to life. It lights up the fancy room beautifully. The orange shadows from the flames mix with the navy blue walls and the contrast is soothing to your eyes. Ms. Jean wipes her hands onto the apron of her skirt and stands.
“There are some details that I’m afraid the master will only be able to tell you himself, for I feel that his story isn’t mine to tell. However… I will tell you what he is and how he came to be here,” her eyes wrinkle at the corners when she looks off into the distance. You know that expression anywhere, for it graces every living being at least once in their life. It's a look of knowing fondness, of content and wisdom. She must be recalling the past.
“I have been with master Jeon since he was a baby and it's been my duty to guide him since then,” she's looking right at you, now, and the adoration within her gaze moves you deeply.
“His species has dwindled over the past thousand years. He is one of the only remaining Lycans to exist,” the fire crackles after those last few words. Even the embers that spark the flames tremble at the story being told within the old castle walls.
“Lycan?” you query in a mere whisper. You are absolutely stunned by the information.
“Yes, dear. I assume you’ve heard of were-creatures?” you nod in answer and wrap your arms around yourself. Indeed, you know of them from the wicked bedtime stories the townspeople would tell you as a child. They were supposedly beasts that roamed the woods at night in search of children’s fear to feed off of. You always thought it was a horrible myth and most likely filled with lies.
“Master Jeon is a special breed of them… you could say that he is the king of were-creatures. But that would be a minor description of his power.” the last sentence causes her to chuckle to herself with pride. Jean stands and walks over to you with her hands outstretched. You place your own into her gentle, work-worn palms so she can lead you into the bathroom.
“You don’t mind if I help bathe you, do you? I can see how worn you are and I wish to get you in bed to rest as soon as possible,” you voice that you would very much appreciate her help.
While she helps you disrobe the muddy and damp clothing off of your body, she continues the conversation.
“I’m not sure what you’ve learned about were-creatures but I saw the fear in your eyes when I mentioned them,” the bath is already filled with warm water and you grasp onto her arms to help ease your aching body in the tub.
“It’s true that there are feral breeds of half-human and wolf… but master Jeon is not like that,” she grabs a bar of soap and lathers it into a washcloth before handing it to you so you can wash. You gratefully take the cloth and start cleaning the dried mud and dew from your skin.
“Master is simultaneously fully wolf and human, instead of half and half. That may explain why his presence is so powerful,” she takes the washcloth from you to delicately run it over your back. You can feel your muscles relaxing and the blisters on your feet stinging beneath the water. It hurts like hell, but you are too tired to even care.
“Yes, his aura was so overwhelming that I couldn’t find any words to speak… my mind went blank as soon as I looked into his golden and brown eyes,” You recall the moment that happened hours ago as if it had just taken place. You reminiscing is cut short, however, when Jean’s hand stills.
“Golden, you say?” Jean inquires cautiously.
“Yes.. when I first looked into his eyes, there were little sparkles of gold in the brown... Is that bad?” you begin to worry but Jean continues washing you. On her lips is a content and subtle smile, one that’s so faint you would've missed it if it weren’t for how close she is.
“Not at all, dear.”