Tales after Dusk 03

Daphne's face is blank as she stares back at Winter; caught up in her own thoughts, she realizes that he is flirting with her. She seamlessly breaks the silence, "I bet you tell that to all the sylvans who come into this brothel."

He laughs, stretching his legs out in front of him, "Well, you are much larger than the last sylvan I met, but no less beautiful." He is glad that she has some semblance of humor; Winter was worried about the awkward time between meeting and copulation. Daphne lathers up a bar of soap, washing her body thoroughly. Her voice is soft but she decides to appreciate his company before his death.

"I lost my wings at the beginning of the winter. Last fall, during the Ritual of the Spirit I was chosen by the Spirit of the Forest to be the High Priestess," Daphne points to her forehead, seeing the intrigue in Winter's eyes.

As she rinses herself off and rises, she continues her story, "It is a title that comes with one duty—protect the Spirit at all costs. Without it, the sylvans cannot change size; when we are in our fairy form, we are the ones responsible for protecting the creatures of the forest and for telling the trees that it is time to wake up in the spring, time to lose leaves in the fall and time to sleep in the winter."

Winter helps her out of the tub, slipping a soft silk robe over her shoulders. She takes a seat at the tiny table where he joins her; picking at the vast array of food, she presses on, "I had only been High Priestess for a season, before...he came—a dark, evil wizard. He appeared from nowhere, without any warning. The wicked, soulless creatures under his command attacked the fortress, killing hundreds of us. I fought my hardest; though I killed dozens, they kept coming but I knew what my position entailed: protect the Spirit, even if my life was forfeited in the process. Then, on a cloud of black smoke the wizard flew at me. With one blow, he knocked me to the ground. Everything grew black."

Winter pours her a glass of tea; she reaches into her satchel, taking out a pouch. She adds a few pinches of a green powder to her own glass and sips it while she gathers her thoughts. Winter looks her over carefully; he knows, deep down, that the evil wizard she encountered was his step-father. The King's wickedness knows no bounds.

After setting down her tea, Daphne starts again while she digs around in her satchel for something else, "I woke up to find the Spirit...dead. The trunk was cut clean in half. I was dizzy and I couldn't focus well, but I saw him just inside of the castle doors. At his feet lay the sylvan King, dead. Raised high off of the ground, he had his hand clasped around the Queen's throat, choking her. I struggled to get to my feet, but I found my bow and an arrow. I notched it, aimed and fired; it didn't matter that I was unsteady, because I knew the arrow would pierce his heart," she pulls her hand out of the bag and in it is a large, beautiful apple; half red, half pale green. She looks down at the fruit, speaking softly.

"The arrow caused him to stagger back a few steps but instead of dying, he laughed. He crushed the Queen's throat, letting her fall to the ground next to her King. After he pulled the arrow from his chest, he sneered at me and said, 'That would have been a good shot, if I had a heart.'" Daphne picks up a knife from the table, cutting the apple in two. She takes a bite from the white side, handing the red side to Winter. "I drew a sword and I charged at him. I managed to slice off his arm before he slammed me into the ground but it didn't matter because he grew his arm back; then he grabbed a hold of each of my wings and ripped them from me."

Daphne watches with tears stinging her eyes as Winter accepts the apple from her; but he doesn't eat it, he holds it as she continues her story. "I thought he would kill me but he didn't. Instead, he cast a spell, ending all sylvans but me. He said, 'As punishment for my arm, Priestess, I will let you live. Death cannot compare to the loneliness of knowing you are the last of your kind, it cannot compare to knowing that there will never be another spring, summer or fall.' That was just over a year ago."

Daphne sips her tea, unable to look at Winter or the poisonous apple in his hand. She has had a difficult time living with her failure this long and despite the cost of not killing the boy, she doesn't think she will be able to live with herself after his death. Winter reaches out and touches her hand. She looks into his eyes, unable to stomach his kindness when he is so close to dying.

Her voice is a broken whisper, "How do you deal with it? Aren't you furious at how things ended up?"

He offers a soft smile in return, "I try heed the wise words of the sylvan that saved me: be kind to all creatures. That creature includes me. I try not to dwell on the way things should have gone but come to terms with the way things are. It is hard but I like to think that things happen for a reason and that one day they will all work out in the end." Winter leans back in his chair, looking at the delicious apple in his hands, "If my step-father hadn't tried to kill me, I wouldn't have the pleasure of spending the night with the most beautiful creature on the face of this earth," he smiles at her, raising the apple to his lips, "that seems like a small price to pay."

As he opens his mouth to take a bite, Daphne stops him; she leans forward, softly pressing her lips into his. Winter puts down the apple, his warm broad hand cradles her face as he melts into her.

Daphne pulls back to breathe, "Then let's forget about the world and have the pleasure of spending the night together." She stands and pulls him away from the table; her heart is pounding—she is terrified. As they walk across the room to the bed, she is angry at herself for having given into the King's threats, for having tried to kill an innocent who had no crime. Yet now she finds herself in a conundrum; since she did not dispatch his life, she must sleep with him.

Daphne lets the robe slip off of her shoulders and perches on the edge of the bed, naked, with Winter standing before her. His beautiful smile does little to calm her nerves as he slowly pulls off his shirt. Winter's cheeks blush as he kicks off his boots and removes his pants. Just as nervous as she is, he stares at the floor.

"You'll have to forgive me, I have never done this before," he says quietly, almost as if he is ashamed.

Daphne rises, placing her hands on his firm chest as she looks up at him, "Well, that makes two of us."

Her comment brings a soft smile to his luscious red lips; he is thankful for her honesty. Looking into her bright green eyes, his breath catches in his throat when he slides his hand around her waist, softly pressing his lips into hers. He can feel her tremble against him, yet she doesn't push him away, but moans softly when she draws in a deep breath of his comforting scent. Daphne wraps her arms around his neck, savoring the warmth of his bare skin against hers.

He slowly tips her backwards onto the bed, holding her waist tight with one arm while supporting his weight with the other, he scoots them towards the middle. Tentatively, his hands wander over her tanned skin, soft and smooth despite her starved appearance. Her gentle fingers trace the lines of his jaw, running through his thick black hair. He pulls slightly away from her mouth so that he can stare deep into her eyes; tenderly, gently so as to enjoy every moment and every inch of her body, Winter slips into her. She arches her back, moaning against his lips at the painful pleasure of her first experience. A shiver creeps down Winter's back as he moves in and out of her, her warm, wet body clinging tightly to his manhood.

Placing soft kisses on her neck, he hears her raspy breaths while her body trembles underneath him. When he looks back into her eyes, Daphne wraps her arms around his neck, pulling him close, her knees spreading wider to spur his speed faster. Lost in each other's gaze, the world drifts away until only their entwined bodies remain. Glistening with sweat, she muffles her mouth against his, time standing still as they become one, their pleasure peaking in sync, their desperate bodies flexing into one another.

Laying parallel to her, Winter stares into Daphne's eyes, finding himself overcome with feeling for the creature. He reaches out and gently strokes her cheek, getting a smile in return. He doesn't think that it has anything to do with her being his first but he feels deep down inside that they were meant to be together. He wants to tell her so but he is afraid that he will scare her off, so instead he pulls her close to his chest and wraps his arms around her.

Daphne closes her eyes, breathing in his smell, her body tingling with the bliss of claiming him, her heart finally starting to mend from the tragedy of her life. She tries not to think of the consequences of not killing Winter—how many deaths the King will cause in order to spur her into action. No matter what he does it will do no good, as she has now taken him as her mate, she will sooner die before letting harm come to him. She does have worries, though, as to how Winter will react to her after she tells him that they now belong to each other, a bond that not even death can break for the sylvans. Daphne cannot fully understand how humans are able to change partners or how that will affect their bond. Instead, she clears her mind and focuses on the warmth of his body next to hers and the fact that she finally feels safe and secure, the first time in more than a year.

...

Winter opens his eyes, amazed at the beautiful creature asleep before him. Her beautiful brown-green curls frame her face, her shining third eye reflects the dim light from the dying fire. Two fuzzy antenna droop down her forehead, confirming that she is deep asleep.

He wants to reach out and touch her, to feel her skin against his, to make sure she is real but he is afraid he will wake her. Instead, he slowly gets up and quietly gets dressed so as not to disturb her. Stretching his arms out above his head, he contemplates asking her how long she will stay at the Inn. The amount of money she left downstairs is more than enough to rent the suite for a month and perhaps after a few more nights together he will be able to share his feelings with her, without seeming so hasty.

He takes the glasses of tea from the night before and dumps them back into the pot, so that he can quietly go down stairs and grab a fresh one. After his stomach growls at him, he thinks that perhaps he will make her some breakfast. Winter goes to pick up the tea pot but spots the beautiful red apple on the table, looking as fresh as if it were just cut. He picks it up, raising it to his lips.

The sharp sound—much like a breaking bone—of Winter biting into the apple causes Daphne's eyes to snap open. She barely has time to sit up before she sees him fall to the floor.

"No," she whispers. Frantically crawling out of the bed, she tumbles onto the floor and scurries over to him, "No!"

She touches his face, shakes his shoulders but he does not respond. His eyes seem dull, "No!" she screams. Daphne feels her body go numb, she feels like she cannot breathe, cannot cry, cannot move.

The pounding of a herd of dwarf feet against the stairs does nothing to jar her. She can feel her body being heaved off of Winter, arms pinned behind her back by someone much larger than her. Daphne watches in a dazed horror as a swarm of seven dwarfs descend upon Winter, trying in vain what she already has. Nothing works. Slowly the dwarfs stop trying, each one crying, sobbing, cussing. Davina falls back onto her ass with a stunned look on her face. Her eyes fall upon the apple and she cautiously picks it up before looking at Daphne.

"Murderer!" She croaks.

Tears finally fall from Daphne's eyes as she goes limp in Finley's arms. She doesn't try to deny it because it was true. Finley lets her go but she doesn't stand, she falls to her knees, staring at Winter's body, heartbroken for the second time in her life. Now she has truly lost everything.

Florence gets up and stomps across the room towards her, hand raised; Daphne does nothing to defend herself but Finley protects her.

"Flo, stop, that won't change anything!" He shouts, holding the dwarf at bay with his leg.

"I don't care! I'll kill that nymph!"

"The leech stone? The puffin flower? Were those you too?" Davina asks quietly, eyes never leaving the nymph.

"Yes," she whispers.

"Why?" Cries Mildred

Daphne shakes her head, "It doesn't matter. Give me the apple, I will kill myself."

Florence pulls a knife off of the table, stabbing Finley in the leg to get by him. As the bartender shouts in pain and jerks away, Florence descends upon Daphne. She doesn't fight back. The tiny dwarf crashes into her, knocking Daphne onto her back so that she can sit on her chest with the knife raised above her head. Still, Daphne doesn't defend herself.

Luna crashes into Florence, knocking her off of the nymph. She smacks the knife away, "Sister, stop it!"

Finley grabs each of them by the back of their dresses, lifting them off of each other.

"You would let her live? She killed Winter!" Florence screams, trying to kick Luna but not being able to reach.

"Luna is right, all of you, stop this," Lainey cries, "I want to know why she did this. You can kill her after for all I care, but we deserve to know why!"

Florence stops kicking, understanding. Finley sets the two down, blocking their path to Daphne in case they change their mind.

Daphne falls back against the wall, drawing her legs up to her chest and wrapping her arms around them. She can barely breathe with all of the pain in her heart and having eight pairs of eyes upon her doesn't ease her guilt.

"Tell us, now," Allegra pleads.

"It was your King who destroyed the Spirit of the Forest, killed my King and Queen. He cast a spell on all sylvans, turning them into stone. He ripped off my wings and imprisoned me at the castle. I have been alone for almost a year," she barely whispers, "Not long ago he drug me out and told me that I was to find and kill the man with skin as white as snow, lips as red as blood and hair as black as night. I laughed in his face and told him that he might as well slit my throat because I would never do his bidding. He expected that, so he had me chained and drug out into the court yard."

She chokes back sobs, "I was so happy to feel the earth beneath my feet and the sun upon my face, until I saw that he had a herd of deer caged. They were so scared, so frightened; they looked at me, they pleaded with me to help them. He sliced each and every deer's throat, one at a time and forced me to watch them die. Then, he said, 'next time they will be humans.'" Daphne wipes the tears from her eyes, "It took me weeks to find Winter. I slipped through the back door and put the necklace that the King gave me on his dresser. I felt horrible, but I went back to the castle to tell the King that I had done his bidding. When I arrived, he was furious. He drug me into his library, and shouted at a mirror, questioning 'who is the most handsome man in all of the land?' The mirror responded, 'It is true that the King is fair, but to the boy with a season as his name you can't compare.' He beat me within an inch of my life—believe me, I had never so much wished for death, but he knew just when to stop. A guard carried me, broken and bloody, into the court yard, where I was forced to watch the life leave a child's eyes.

The King gave me a vial of puffin flower extract and told me that if I did not come back within two days, the rest of the child's family would also die. I was barely able to drag myself back here a second time, and yet again when I returned, the King took me to the mirror and confirmed his disappointment in me. The rest of the child's family and seven others were also disappointed with me. I was thrown back into the dungeon for a week. I begged the powers that be to kill me, but they would not. Once again I was taken out to see the King, but this time I was forced to dress properly and forced to greet him in the throne room. It was there that I saw the Queen—she is nothing but an empty shell. She lives and breathes but she does nothing more than respond to him, like a doll." With her eyes still on Winter, she forces herself to continue the story, "He presented me with an apple. He told me that I was to get Winter to eat the apple, see him do it. In return for my success, he would remove the spell he cast upon the sylvans, which in turn would allow the seasons to change, crops to be planted and the rest of the humans to continue surviving. If I were to fail, he would not rest until he cut down every last tree and slaughtered every creature in the forest. I had no choice."

"So you chose to kill Winter? To save the sylvans?" Allegra snaps.

Daphne shakes her head, removing her eyes from Winter for the first time, "Yes and no. I did not believe that even if the King could remove the spell from the sylvans, that he would. I did, however, never doubt the fact that he would destroy any forest he could come across. I could not watch anything else be killed—what is one life when compared to many? It is true, I did come here with the intention of killing Winter, but..." her voice cracks.

"But what?" Davina presses.

"...I couldn't. I couldn't harm such an innocent, loving creature. I took him as my mate, so that no matter what the King tried to force me to do, I could never bring harm to him again." She begins crying again.

"I don't understand," Finley says, "how could you never hurt him again? And if you changed your mind, how is it that he is dead?"

"Oh no," Davina whispers, "Are you saying that sylvans mate for life?"

Daphne doesn't need to answer.

"That's stupid, they just had sex, Davina. We make a living off of sex, if you hadn't noticed and almost all of the men that come here have wives," Florence huffs.

Davina shakes her head, "No, it is different for humans. For some other creatures, the act of sex is just a means to an end—a way to prolong a bloodline. But in those that mate for life..." she trails off. Everyone looks at her but Daphne, as she continues, "But for those that mate for life, they only get one partner. When their partner dies, it is a kin to losing a limb. They can't function, they become solitary and many die soon afterwards."

All eyes turn on Daphne; though they feel some semblance of pity, it isn't enough.

"So it doesn't matter if we kill her now or not, she's dead anyways."

"Please," Daphne says softly, "please let me return home with him. I would like to be buried in the forest, with him."

There is silence. Though charged with the task of killing their son, the dwarfs can't find it in their hearts to deny the final request of the last living sylvan.

...

It is an odd procession they make; a single, cloaked figure floating in the lead, followed by a gigantic black horse pulling a cart with an open casket containing Winter, a large redheaded brute and seven, tiny dwarf women. They set off almost immediately that morning; Davina thought it best not to let the patrons see or know of Winter's death so they left before the Inn even opened for the day, leaving one of the girls in charge of the daily affairs.

The bitter cold wind cuts into everyone with the exception of Daphne, whose body is numbed by the coldness in her heart. She feels nothing but sorrow, only forcing her body to continue moving as a means to the end of her suffering.

As they trudge on through lunch, an odd thing happens; the air begins to warm. The snow begins to soften and turn into water and tiny buds appear on the trees. All of the party express dimmed joy at the beginning of spring, all in shock that the King actually kept his word and reversed the spell on the sylvans—all except Daphne, who remains unaffected by the world around her, withdrawn deep within her darkness.