Long ago, there was a village with a population of one-hundred-twenty-seven. Each house looked different, in varying degrees of luxury and age, but all of them had wood doors and wood floorboards and wood planks forming four wood walls, surrounded by wood fences. All this wood was found in the forest above the town: no one ever went very deep into the forest, because not many of them wished to be eaten alive by wolves or monsters, and those who did were most likely already dead or too busy with their grueling everyday life to escape. Everyone in the village had a job, no matter how young or old, how poor or rich, how male or female, or anything in between (although it was 1856, so anything in between male or female was sparse, to say the least).

Men from the poorer families would hunt for their money, going just deep enough into the forest to find good game that hadn’t already been struck down, or walking to the lake just a mile away and catching fish if they had the materials. 

Women from these families would often sew, making scarves and mittens and blankets in the winter, crafting handkerchiefs and shawls in the summer. Those without the tools to sew would work for the richer families, as maids or cooks or nannies. 

The richer men and women were often richer because they were better. Mind you, not anyone in the village was rich enough to really get anywhere in their simple lives, but some got a bit farther than others. The rich men were the ones with crops and farms, who grew strawberries and raspberries and anything you can think of that ends in -berries, the ones who had chickens and cows and goats and slaves to do their work for them, picking cotton and tending to animals and such so they could sell it to even wealthier men. Middle class men could sell eggs and milk and maybe even cheese if they had access to it. The rich women were talented seamstresses or had an excellent education and could get jobs making dresses or as governesses for nobles in other, more prosperous towns. 

The children went to school, and those who couldn’t afford school would help their parents, or do their neighbor’s laundry, or volunteer at one of the many businesses in the village. 

All these products were sold in the same place: in the very center of the village, where there was a gigantic marketplace, bustling with people. Vendors shouted praises of their wares, and shoppers exchanged for copper and silver coins, or, if they had no money, some of the traders accepted animal pelts and clothes. Girls would walk through the streets in the finest dresses they could find, carrying baskets of flowers or food, winking and waving and trying to catch the eyes of young gentlemen from the best families. 

The village was a wonderful place to be. Most of the time, at least. You see, the villagers had a slight problem: on the second Wednesday of each month, a woman would come out of the woods. Dressed up in black and white frills like a maid for royalty. It was the same woman every time, a girl with a sharp nose, big brown eyes, and soft yellow curls under her bonnet. She would walk straight into the marketplace, and let out the loudest scream you’ve ever heard- like a siren, like a banshee. Everyone, naturally, would turn to stare at her. She would calmly clear her throat and say in her small, raspy voice, 

“My master demands that you deliver your most beautiful woman to him. Put her in the most expensive dress you have, adorn her in jewelry, and leave her in the center of the woods by noon tomorrow. If you do not abide by my master’s orders, he will char one of your homes to nothing but ash. One of you will have a year of rotted crops, and one will die.” She would clear her throat again, hike up her skirt, and walk back into the forest without another word.

This had been happening for three years. 

The first time, people rolled their eyes and brushed it off as a joke, a prank. But after what the girl said happened...again...and again, and again, and again...they realized that she was telling the truth, and whoever ‘The Master’ was, he must have been one of the magic-wielders. A select few in the kingdom were blessed at birth with amazing magical abilities- but in some places they were seen as dangerous, some people even thought that they were demons, so most were beaten, tortured, or killed before they even became adults. 

But still, they didn’t do what he asked. Because the most beautiful woman in the village, a young girl named Hope, was also the most generous, caring, and supportive person anyone had ever met. She would help the elderly with their things, she would buy the mushy strawberries from the vendor when no one else wanted to, she would teach the more unfortunate children how to read and write. No one was willing to toss her to some strange man, especially since she never asked anything of others. 

So, just as he had said he would, The Master burned one house, forced a year of misfortune on one of the farmers, and murdered one of the villagers. Thirty-six times. 

There had been forty-seven casualties. 

Each month went by, and the villagers began dreading the second Wednesday like you’d dread being stabbed in the stomach every day for a year. 

“She’ll be coming again two days from now.” A man whispered, sipping his beer as people laughed and talked in the tavern around him. His friend nodded and sighed. 

“We need to do something about it.” A third man decided, standing up a little too quickly and hoisting himself up onto the table, clinking a fork and his glass together to get the attention of the rest of the crowd. “All in favor of dealing with this ‘Master’ problem, say aye or forever hold ‘yer pee!” The man looked incredibly drunk, and like he was about to fall over. Surprisingly, almost everyone said ‘aye’. Whether it was out of agreement or fear of having to hold in their urine for the rest of their life, I suspect no one will ever truly know.

“We can’t give ‘im Hope.” A woman whispered. She and several others, including the drunk man who stood on the table, were crowded into a barn, discussing their plan. “She’s too pure.”

“True that.” A man agreed. 

“We could send him one of the McWerners. Real ugly bats, they are. That’d give him a shock.”

“Hey!” The first woman slapped the guy who had just spoken. “I’m a McWerner, you asshole!” The guy shrugged and subtly inched away from her.

“No, he said it needs to be a beautiful woman.”

“Let’s give ‘im an average girl, then.” Someone suggested. “Like one of the Gerlios, or a Hermerson.”

“Nah, he wants the most beautiful girl. ‘An we already know he knows everyone in the village. Remember, he sent us the list one time, of all the people he had killed and all of us are still livin’.” 

“So it’s Hope he wants…” A woman mumbled. “Why didn’t he just outright ask for her?”

“Maybe he’s embarrassed.” A man cut in. “Maybe he loves her and doesn’t want to admit it.”

“Maybe he’s a pervert, and he wants lovely women to touch when all his money don’t buy him joy.”

“How d’you know he’s got money?”

“You kidding me? Have you seen the girl he sends into town? She must be his lowest-ranked, and her shoes are shinier than Grace Mclaughlee’s.”

“Good point.”

“But we’re not sending Hope.”

“...What if we send someone else? We’ll dress ‘em up real nice and stuff, but make ‘em unrecognizable. We’ll give ‘em a new name and pretend they’re new in town.”

“Ha!” The first woman barked out laughter like a dog or a very old man with lung problems. “Might as well send ‘im a man.”

“Yes!” Someone shouted. “We’ll dress one of the men up all pretty, like a woman, and bring him to the woods, everything the girl told us to do.” Loud bursts of laughter rang out among the group.

“At the very least, it’d be a good joke. Payback for all the misery he’s caused this village.” Someone pointed out. More drunken giggles followed. “Imagine his face when he finds out!”

“We’d need a scrawny man!” A random person decided, hoisting his stein up in the air and splashing three other people with beer as he did.

“With no beard!”

“And full thighs!” 

“And girly cheekbones!” By this point, they were all doubled over with laughter, yelling over each other, still guzzling ale. Someone barfed on someone else’s shoes. 

Adrienne was not happy. He was incredibly unhappy, in fact. He was standing in the middle of an abandoned barn. Half the village was surrounding him, handing necklaces and bracelets and chokers and wigs and rouge and lipstick and dresses and corsets and shoes to a man with a scruffy beard who was standing uncomfortably close. Adrienne wasn’t even completely sure of the plan. All he knew was that a woman showed up at his door right after the maid girl came and gave her announcement about her master, grabbing his arm wordlessly, pulling him into that barn and muttering something about crossdressing. 

He got the gist of it pretty quickly: the village had decided that for some reason he didn’t have any free will, so they were going to dress him up like a woman because he had nice cheekbones and was the scrawniest man in the village, just so that they could leave him in the woods to be raped by a mysterious ‘master’ who burned down houses, killed people, and used his sparkly magic to curse f*cking crops. Adrienne didn’t argue, because he was terrible at arguing and, well… nothing more exciting was going on in his life, and it wasn’t like he got a choice anyway. Adrienne was used to just going along with things that people told him to do. He might very well consider it one of his strong suits.

And that is how he found himself standing in the middle of the woods at exactly noon on a hot spring day, wearing a long black dress with a neckline much lower than he would have liked, black heels, and lacey gloves. His brown hair was tucked under a cinnamon wig, and his blue-grey eyes were lined with kohl, complemented by red lips. At his feet was a small leather suitcase full of donated dresses and jewelry from the villagers. A rustling sound could be heard from the bushes, and Adrienne turned around quickly to see a man in a beautiful silky white outfit that perfectly fit his broad shoulders. The man had shoulder-length blond hair and soft brown eyes that traced up and down Adrienne’s body with scrutinizing squints.

“Who are you?” The man asked, smiling gently at him. His voice was light and beautiful. Adrienne didn’t answer, staring. “Who are you?” The man repeated, louder, probably thinking that he hadn’t been heard, or that he was speaking to an especially slow girl. Adrienne just tilted his head. “Are you from the village?”

“Yes,” Adrienne replied finally, nodding.

“...I told them to send the most beautiful woman.”

“Yes,” Adrienne said again.

“You’re the most beautiful woman in the village?”

“Yes, sir.”

“...Hm.” The man furrowed his eyebrows and cocked his head. “I suppose you’re okay.” He shrugged and cleared his throat. “My name is Rose.”

“Mm.” Adrienne sighed. 

“Come with me.”

Adrienne followed him through the woods. Rose seemed to know where he was going, even though there was no trail and no noticeable landmarks. They walked for about fifteen minutes, in which time Adrienne discovered that it was not easy to walk in heels, or a dress, for that matter. Or a corset. Or a wig. Or any of the horrendous things he was wearing. Rose seemed unfazed by everything- the distant chirping of birds, the rustling bushes, the random strangled screams that could be heard from somewhere to the East... Neither of them talked to each other, Adrienne was too busy plotting his revenge on the villagers if he ever got back to that stupid place. 

He had lived there his entire life, all twenty-one years of it, and he hated it more than he hated artichokes. Growing up, his family was one of the richer ones. That sounds like a good thing, but it just means less dirt and more responsibilities. All he wanted to do was make dresses and bonnets and gloves and skirts, but that was a task for women. His father taught him things like hunting and reading and writing while his five sisters learned sewing and cooking and cleaning from his mother. He would often run away from the lessons with his father so that he could listen in on his sisters’. He’d take mental note of everything that his mother said, and at night he would light a candle and draw designs in his notebook until the wax burned to a stump. 

When he turned fifteen, he made his first clothing item. It was sort of an accident- he went to the dressmaker’s shop that his sister worked at to deliver her sewing needle, which she had forgotten. The head of the business mistook him for her, for the same reasons that the villagers sent him into that f*cked situation, and sent him to work alongside another girl. He watched the girl carefully and somehow managed to make a pair of gloves. 

They figured out that he wasn’t his sister eventually, but he stole their sewing equipment and brought it back to his house so he could make more things. He would hide his creations in his closet. 

“What is your name?” Rose asked, interrupting Adrienne’s thoughts. Adrienne blinked, and recalled briefly what one villager called out as they were dressing him- ‘he’s perfect! He won’t even have to change his name, with one like that.’.

“Adrienne,” Adrienne told him, avoiding eye contact and instead staring at the forest in front of them.

“...Oh.” Rose seemed slightly disappointed, and Adrienne had to force himself not to roll his eyes. “We’re here,” Rose announced a few minutes later as they stepped around a large tree. A stone path was set out in front of them, leading to what must have been at least one-hundred-thousand acres, split into different sections- Adrienne could see a maze of hedges, a long expanse of crops, a garden… In the center of it all was a sprawling castle, tan white with more windows than Adrienne wanted to count, black spires, and perfectly carved marble. Sunlight hit the castle just right, turning some parts golden yellow and letting dark shadows be cast on others. Adrienne half-expected to wake up in his old bedroom any second, for the castle to fall over or disappear or for Rose to say, ‘this is our neighbors’ house’ before walking into a shack next to it. None of these things happened, so Adrienne just stood there staring. “Does it meet your expectations?” Rose asked, glancing at him.

“...Yes.” Adrienne nodded slowly and Rose led him down the path. 

“Mrf.” Adrienne blinked his eyes open to the sunlight deeply invading his personal space. He barely remembered the other day. He recalled a brief tour, but it was mostly just Rose pointing at rooms and looking sad. He was so tired after the incredibly overwhelming day that he nearly collapsed on his bed as soon as Rose opened the door to his new room. “Where the f*ck am I?” Adrienne groaned, sitting up and pinching the bridge of his nose, memories flooding back. He sucked in a breath and looked down quickly. He was still wearing the dress. It was very uncomfortable because they had put these weird silicone things in his bra to make it look like he had breasts. One of the things was lopsided. He sighed and pulled a book out of the dress, surprised that Rose hadn’t thought to check him for weapons or potions. The villagers had stuffed the book in there among the many layers because they thought he was stupid and wouldn’t know how to act like a woman. He didn’t, but… their low expectations still hurt. He flipped open the book to a page where someone with very neat handwriting had put instructions on how to wear dresses- what order to put the many parts on in, how to lace up a bodice, how to keep the wig on, etc. 

On another page were instructions on how to act, how to walk, how to talk...many of them were cut out from books, books that knew a lot better than the drunken idiots who came up with this plan.

‘Always wait in front of a door. Proper ladies do not open doors for themselves.’

‘Curtsy- put your dominant foot in front of the other, bowing your head and holding up your skirt as you bend your knees.’

‘Never let a man lead you to your room.’

And then the things that the villagers wrote-

‘Answer everything with ‘yes’ or ‘no’.’

‘Don’t argue with him.’

‘Listen to his orders.’

‘Be charming and sexy, but don’t ever take off your clothes or do anything to show that you’re not a girl.’

‘Pretend like your fake boobs are children.’ 

‘Don’t look him in the eye.’

There were several more things that Adrienne didn’t particularly want to read, so he took in his surroundings instead.

The bed was huge, big enough for at least four people and three large dogs to sleep on at the same time. It had a golden sofa headboard and a matching footboard at the bottom, framed in intricately swirled patterns of gold. The sheets were soft as silk, a light grey-blue color like the sky right after sunrise and right before a storm. Directly in front of the bed was a grand door, and to the left of the door was another, smaller one, mirrored on the right side. The walls were the same color as the sheets, and the floors were white marble. Just beside the bed was a luxurious vanity table rimmed with gold like everything else. A knock came from the main door, and Adrienne’s head snapped up as he scrambled to fix the plastic thing and readjust his wig.

“Ahem.” The woman who came in was the same one that had given all those speeches in the middle of town, the blonde girl with brown eyes and a strange stare that lingered a little too long for comfort. “You will find your clothing there.” She pointed to the door on the left. “Get dressed. Come into the hall when you’re done.” She left, curtsying. 

Adrienne sighed for the third time as he opened the door on the left. His eyes widened and he put a hand over his mouth. Shelves upon shelves upon shelves of jewelry and shoes and bags and racks of dresses and wigs and anything imaginable met his eyes. He almost squealed, biting his lip with excitement and clapping as he walked inside. He was almost afraid to touch anything, thinking it would crumble to dust or break or, again, that he would wake up. 

He found so many things that he wanted to try on and wear to death but remembered a section in the book about never wearing revealing clothes, due to more risk of his secret being exposed. 

He landed on a concealing yellow dress with a gorgeous flower pattern on it and matching heels. The maid girl curtsied again as he stepped out. She wordlessly led him down impressively large flights of stairs and into an equally astonishing dining room, where a big wooden table stretched out on a maroon rug. It was set for two people, the chairs at opposite ends of the table. Rose was sitting in one chair, so Adrienne sat in the other. 

“Good morning.” Rose greeted as soon as the maid left, giving Adrienne a slightly interested and slightly disappointed look.

“Good morning, sir,” Adrienne replied, stiffly placing his napkin in his lap. 

“...What is your last name, Adrienne?”

“My name is Adrienne Mordana Arquette.” Adrienne answered honestly. 

“I, uh...oh. Okay.” Adrienne mumbled something very lightly under his breath. “Hm?” Rose furrowed his eyebrows. 

“Nothing,” Adrienne said quickly. He was saved from any further explanation as the maid came out carrying trays of food and placing them in front of him and Rose. Rose thanked her as she left the room, and the two proceeded to eat in awkward silence. 

“...I’m-” Rose shook his head. “Never mind. Are you enjoying your food?”

“Yes.” Adrienne nodded.

“Good.” 

After breakfast, Adrienne decided to explore the castle, because Rose didn’t seem very talkative and he wanted to see if there was a library in that place. 

He did find a library- a grand room with millions of books and one brown couch. It was almost impossible to find anything in it, though. He found a book titled ‘How To Pretend’ and figured it would be helpful in his situation, so he sat down at a wooden desk and flipped through it. He was reading a very interesting section on how to put on a fake nose when he felt a warm breath near his neck and heard someone whisper, 

“Why would you need to pretend?” He jumped up out of the chair and whipped around to see Rose, dressed in a white and gold robe that exposed his entire chest. 

“What do you want?” Adrienne asked, tucking a lock of his wig behind his ear and putting the book down.

“What do you want?” Rose smiled. 

“I want to leave this place.” He answered honestly. “I want to get back to my village and then I want to leave the village, and then I want to become a designer and I want to never have to see you or any of those villagers ever again. I want to take this dress off and wear something more comfortable. I want you to leave me alone.” 

“...Come walk with me.”

“Yes, sir,” Adrienne said cautiously, worrying that he might have said too much.

Rose led him out to the garden, where a stone path sprawled out among the flowers and plants. Adrienne stared at the bursts of color for a while, and nodded. 

“It’s pretty.”

“Yeah.” Rose started walking and Aridenne followed quickly. “Tell me about yourself.”

“What would you like to know?”

“...Things. Like, your favorite color and your least favorite thing and what you do in your free time, and your favorite word, and your favorite book, and your favorite flower.”

“...Hm.” Adrienne paused for a moment and then cleared his throat. “Black or grey. People who chew with their mouths open. Reading, sewing, drawing. Prepossessing. I don’t have one. Yellow roses.” 

“Here.” Rose plucked a yellow rose from a nearby bush and handed it to him. 

“...Thank you.” Adrienne held the rose delicately, avoiding the thorns. 

“Do you have any questions for me?”

“Yes.” Adrienne bent down to sniff a daisy.

“Ask them.”

“No.” Adrienne shook his head and readjusted his wig subtly. 

“Okay.” Rose sighed and nodded. The rest of their walk was spent in silence.

Adrienne walked through the halls calmly, slowly. He was opening every door he saw, boredom driving him. He opened a big black door to see a simple room with a desk in front of a big window. The view was gorgeous, overlooking the maze outside. A notebook sat on the desk, wide open and almost begging him to read it. A quill and ink stood close by on the table. Adrienne glanced down at the page very quickly, intending to move along after one quick look, but his vision got hooked on his name, written perfectly with the black ink. He hesitantly read the page, leaning over the book:

Thirty-seven-

I overheard the villagers talking, briefly. Something about needing dresses and jewels. I can only expect one thing: they have finally decided to bring her to me. 

I can barely go through motions today, excitement buzzing in my mind. I almost feel like it’s too good to be true. But I can’t wait to finally, finally see Hope up close instead of from afar. I can’t believe that after all this time…

It is an hour till noon, and my hands are shaking. Will Hope like the castle? Will she like the gardens? Will she like me? 

A few blank lines stood in between it and the next entry, which seemed more rushed. Or perhaps...annoyed?

I don’t know what just happened. I went into the woods and found a girl. But it was not Hope. The girl is undoubtedly beautiful, but not nearly as much as she is. I had no idea what to do. Part of me prayed that this girl was her, that the villagers had adorned her in so much finery that she was unrecognizable. So I asked the girl her name… she said, ‘Adrienne’. Adrienne. It’s a pretty name. I’m not a cruel man, I couldn’t just send her back to her village because she wasn’t Hope- what a treacherous thing to do to a young lady’s confidence!

Adrienne scoffed at that last line because he wouldn’t have cared either way. Actually, he would have preferred Rose rejecting him, because then he’d be back at home, safe and sound, sitting by the fireplace enjoying a nice cup of tea.

The girl is interesting. Most of the time, her answers are short and simple, so much so that I question if perhaps she could be a bit dense. But when she does say more than one word...it’s something patronizing, often sarcastic, and always intelligent. It might not be so bad to have her here after all. At the very least, it’s entertaining. 

I watched Hope today. She was sweeping her house. I wished so badly- I wished that she could be here. The villagers scammed me, but there is nothing I can do about it. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, as they say, and perhaps to them... Adrienne is beautiful.

Just then, the door opened and Adrienne rushed to close the diary as the blonde maid from before walked in. She seemed startled to see him, but she shook off the shock quickly. He wondered briefly what her name was and why she seemed to be the only maid there.

“My name is Ophelia.” She told him in a quiet, shy voice. “The Master would like to see you for tea. He is waiting outside.” Adrienne nodded and wordlessly walked out. 

“Hello.” Adrienne curtsied at Rose, who was sitting with his legs crossed at a metal white garden table. On the table was a plate of scones and two cups of tea. 

“Good afternoon.” Rose nodded, taking a sip of his tea. “Please, sit.” Adrienne sat in the chair across from him, lacing his hands together and resting them in his lap. 

“What can I help you with, sir?”

“I was wondering if you’d like to have lunch with me.”

“Yes.” He crossed his legs. Rose nodded again and lightly rested his cheek in his hand, staring at Adrienne. Adrienne sighed softly and picked up the other teacup, dumping a spoonful of sugar into it and taking a sip, his eyes darting up to see if Rose was still staring. He was. Adrienne pursed his lips and poured in another spoonful of sugar, pulling his napkin off the table and into his lap. Rose kept staring. Adrienne stirred his tea and stared back. Rose didn’t move. “Jesus fucking christ, what is wrong with you?” Adrienne mumbled calmly, taking a second sip of his tea. Rose blinked and cleared his throat. 

“Sorry.”

“That’s not a very good answer.” Adrienne picked up a scone and bit into it, careful not to get lipstick on the pastry. 

“Um...I don’t know what’s wrong with me, then.”

“I do.” Adrienne smiled and cocked his head, enjoying the confused look that he was greeted with in return. 

“What is it?”

“It would be rude of me to tell you.”  He shrugged dismissively.

“Not if I ask you to tell me. If I ask, then it’s ruder to refuse.”

“No.” Adrienne shook his head. “Why did you want to have lunch?”

“I’ll tell you if you tell me what’s wrong with me.”

“Fine, don’t tell me.” Adrienne took another bite of the scone. 

“You said you wanted to be a designer. What do you design?”

“Clothes,” Adrienne answered.

“Do you make the clothes too, or just draw them?”

“I make them.”

“That’s wonderful.” Rose cleared his throat again.

“Staring contest,” Adrienne replied quickly.

“What?”

“Staring contest. You know, where you see how long you can go without blinking.”

“...What about it.” He frowned. 

“One, two, three, go.” Adrienne stared at Rose. Rose quickly did the same. Neither of them blinked for about a minute. Adrienne smiled again, lifting his cheekbones up and forcing Rose to blink. “I win. You lose.” Adrienne ate the rest of his scone and stood up. 

“Where are you going?”

“That way.” He pointed to the castle, and hiked up his skirts, beginning to walk away. 

“At least tell me what’s wrong with me before you go.”

“...Well for one...You’re too desperate.” Adrienne told him, curtsying once more and walking away.

Adrienne had been at the castle for about a week. He and Rose went on walks every day, and they talked occasionally about trivial things, but were mostly quiet. 

Warm morning sunlight drifted through the window of the library, illuminating little floating specks of dust in the air. Adrienne was wearing a simple white dress that went down to his knees, sitting on a comfortable leather chair, holding a thick book. The door creaked open and his head snapped up. Rose stood there, wearing another gorgeous outfit; a tight black shirt, with matching pants.

“Morning.” Rose walked over to a shelf.

“Good morning, sir.” Adrienne subtly tugged his skirt down, not looking up from his book. Rose walked over and leaned down, resting his chin on the top of the spine.. “Can I help you?” Adrienne asked flatly.

“Tell me more about yourself.” 

“Like what?” He pursed his lips as Rose stepped back and crossed his legs on the floor. 

“Like...If you could do anything, what would you do?”

“I would get out of this conversation.”

“I’m serious.” Rose glared at him. 

“So am I.” Adrienne sighed and put down his book. “I guess I would...get a job as a dressmaker.”

“Why don’t you?”

“I can’t.” Adrienne fiddled with a hair on his wig. 

“Why?”

“I’m- uh, my family doesn’t approve of it.” He shrugged. “What about you? What would you do?”

“...I want to say something like ‘make the world a better place’, but honestly...I want to find-” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “This is going to sound so stupid- I want to find love. I want to find a woman who loves me back.”

“That is stupid.” Adrienne nodded. “Okay, um...If you could travel to any country in the world, where would you go?”

“...Paris. You?”

“Italy.” Adrienne sighed again.

“What’s your book about?” Rose pointed to the book in his hands. 

“Well…” Adrienne held up the book. The cover depicted a woman in an extravagant powder wig and a huge puffy light blue dress, holding a decapitated human head in her hand. She was smiling brightly. Cursive above the picture spelled out, ‘Marie Antoinette’s Guide to Being A Lady!’. Rose pursed his lips in an attempt to hide his smile.

“Wow.” 

“Yeah.” Adrienne nodded and put the book back down.

“Why would you need a guide on how to be a lady?” 

“So that I can be better at it.” He sniffed and tilted his head up, watching a small smirk grow on Rose’s face.

“You don’t need to be better at it. I think you’re great at being a lady just how you are now.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“...Come with me. I have something for you.” Rose stood up and offered his hand to Adrienne. He ignored it and followed him out, letting Rose lead him right down the corridor and to a door. It looked very much like the numerous other doors that stretched endlessly along the hall. 

Adrienne opened it hesitantly, revealing a gigantic circular room with tall ceilings. Massive windows lining one of the walls exposed views of the maze, the field, the garden, and everything in between. Three huge shelves held more fabric than Adrienne had ever worn or seen his entire lifetime. Empty mannequins stood in front of each of the windows. A big dark wood desk sat in front of the shelves. It had every tool you could possibly need, from a box of sewing needles to thread to notebooks to pencils to bright watercolors, and to the left of the door was a giant bookcase holding what must have been almost a hundred books, all about clothes and sewing and drawing. Two chairs and a couch accompanied the bookcase, and a gorgeous bronze chandelier of swirls and candles hung from the ceiling to top it all off.

Adrienne put a hand over his mouth. 

“Oh my holy f*ck.” He whispered, swallowing.

“Do you like it?” Rose asked uncertainly, looking at Adrienne. He opened his mouth and closed it again, blinking rapidly, both to make sure it was all real and to prevent himself from crying. 

“I love it.” He replied, shaking his head slowly. Rose smiled.

“It’s yours.”

“I- You…” Adrienne put a hand on Rose’s arm to steady himself, still staring in awe at the room. “I’m not... dreaming, am I?”

“No, it’s real.” He reassured, chuckling.

“How did you...how? Why? When would…” He shook his head again.

“I wanted to give you a space to work. You know, on your designs.” Adrienne impulsively hugged him before rushing up to the shelves and touching the fabrics. 

“Thank you.” He whispered. Rose blinked and blushed, nodding.

“I’ll...leave you to it.” He ducked out of the room, still smiling.

“Adrienne?” Rose walked into the dressmaking room. It was almost nine in the evening, and Adrienne hadn’t come out all day. Rose found him passed out at his desk, breathing lightly with his head resting against a drawing of an elegant black dress. “Adrienne.” Rose tapped his shoulder, and his eyes immediately flew open. “Have you been in here this whole time?”

“...Yes.” Adrienne cleared his throat and straightened his back. Rose leaned against the desk, staring at him. 

“It’s been almost twelve hours.”

“Okay.” Adrienne nodded and picked up his pencil, looking down at the drawing in front of him and erasing the neckline. Rose added a raised eyebrow to his stare. 

“It’s time for dinner.” 

“Okay.”

“So you need to stand up and walk downstairs with me.”

“Mm.”

“Let’s go,” Rose added. Adrienne sighed and stood up, pushing away from the desk reluctantly and walking to the door with Rose.

 When they reached the table, Adrienne picked up his plate and napkin and moved them across the table to the seat across from where Rose was sitting without a word, which made him grin like a fool. Ophelia walked in nearly five seconds later with plates of lemon pasta and glasses of red wine. She curtsied again before leaving. 

“Hope doesn’t even know you,” Adrienne said slowly, twirling more than the exceptional amount of spaghetti around his fork. Rose’s face flushed with the mention of her name, and he quickly took a sip of water in a futile attempt to calm himself. 

“Um…” He blinked and looked down. 

“I accidentally read a page of your diary.” He explained. This made Rose blush harder.

“What, uh, what did you read?”

“Not much.” Adrienne shrugged. 

“Oh.” Rose sighed in relief and nodded.

“Why are you so obsessed with her anyway?” He stuffed the fork of pasta in his mouth somewhat aggressively. 

“She’s gorgeous,” Rose replied.

“Everyone says that. I don’t see it.” Adrienne said after swallowing. “I mean, she’s undeniably pretty, but she’s really not that special.”

“Yes, she is.” Rose snapped harshly. Adrienne flinched ever so slightly. “I mean, she is.” He repeated, correcting his tone. “She’s nice, and funny, and smart, and pretty, and her skin is really clear-”

“How do you know she’s funny and smart and nice if you’ve never met her?” Adrienne pointed out.

“Because I’ve seen her. She helps people.”

“What if she’s a cult leader and the people she helps are her followers and everyone else is a victim or soon-to-be victim? What if she’s a witch and her beauty comes from the lives she sucks from people? What if she’s got children in her basement that she goes to eat when she thirsts for blood?” Adrienne paused to take a sip of wine and then slam the glass on the table as he continued, “What if she lures people in with her looks and as soon as they’re sleeping she forces pills down their throats until they die and she plants the bodies with the pills in their hands so it looks like they died of an overdose and as soon as people bury the body she goes and digs it up and has sex with a f*cking dead body because she’s creepy and weird and ugly and mean and has a terrible sense of humor!” He didn’t take a single breath until he was done talking. Rose blinked and stared at him. 

“...You’ve clearly thought about this.”

“Mm-hm.” Adrienne nodded, trying to regain his composure. 

“Well, she’s not any of those things. She’s just...beautiful. And amazing.”

“You can tell me all about how perfect she is after you’ve had a full conversation with her.”

“Fine.”

“What were you even planning to do with her? Did you just hope that the poor thing would develop some kind of Stockholm Syndrome and fall in love with you?”

“Well, you did,” Rose smirked. 

“Ugh, no.” Adrienne wrinkled his nose. 

“I mean, I guess I did hope... that she would fall in love with me despite a questionable beginning and me possibly being her captor.”

“That’s exactly what Stockholm Syndrome is, sir.”

“Have you ever met her?”

“Mm-hm. She used to be my best friend.”

“What?” Rose gave him a why-do-I-not-know-this look.

“We were friends for a long time, but there was an incident and I may or may not have told her to fuck off and that I was disgusted by her and never wanted to see her again.” 

“What was the incident?”

“She ate a horse.”

“Excuse me?”

“We were twelve, and someone dared her to hit a horse, and the dare just kept building up until it was to kill a horse, and her family was starving at the time so she killed and ate the horse. The end.”

“That’s...uh…”

“And they all got food poisoning. Moral of the story.” Rose laughed and bit his lip, staring at Adrienne again. Adrienne stared back, with a b*tch-what-do-you-want expression, lips pursed. Rose kept staring as he lifted a single spaghetti strand into his mouth with a fork. “You keep staring at me, sir,” Adrienne told him, looking down and fussing with his napkin. Rose didn’t reply, and when Adrienne looked up, he was still staring, a smile tugging at his lips. “Sir, is something wrong?”

“No.” Rose looked at his plate and blinked. “Sorry.”

“Did she eat the entire horse?” Rose and Adrienne were walking down the hall, towards Rose’s room. 

“No, her family divided it out among themselves, made it last for an entire week.”

“You’re joking.” Rose chuckled.

“Nope. She has two little brothers and a mom, and she got the legs. All four of them.”

“Gross. How does a twelve-year-old child eat horse legs?”

“Desperate times.” Adrienne shrugged. “Apparently her brothers ate the eyes…” He added in a creepy voice.

“Okay, now you’re joking. That’s disgusting.”

“And her mother served the tongue with whipped cream as dessert…” 

“Ewww.” Rose laughed and paused in front of his door. “Um, goodnight, I guess.”

“Goodnight, sir.”

“So, what do you do all day?” Adrienne asked, walking through the hedge maze with Rose. He was wearing a baby blue dress with little pink flowers all over it. 

“What do you mean?”

“I mean...do you just...write in your diary and walk around your castle and kidnap people in forests?”

“You’re the only person I’ve kidnapped in a forest, and no. I write in my diary and walk around the castle and spy on people.” He pursed his lips and cleared his throat.

“Wow.” Adrienne rolled his eyes. “Now I see why you like Hope so much.”

“...Why?”

“She talks a lot if you hadn’t noticed. You’re lonely, and lonely people love talkative people. Your maid barely-”

“You talk a lot,” Rose mumbled. Adrienne smirked. 

“Shut up and let me talk. Your maid barely utters a word, so she’s basically a shadow on the wall. Having someone like Hope here would be exciting, and new, and interesting, at least for a while.”

“No, not just for a while. Forever. She’d stay here forever.”

“I mean it would be exciting for a while, before it becomes the norm.”

“Mm.” Rose looked to the side, avoiding eye contact.

“Why don’t you just go into the village and talk to her?”

“What would I say? ‘Hi there, Hope, I’m the asshole who’s been burning people’s houses down and killing them! I’ve been watching you and I love you, so why don’t you come to my castle with me and never leave?’” 

“No.” Adrienne shook his head. 

“I can’t just have a conversation with her! It’s not that simple.”

“Yes, it is. It literally is. Just walk up to her and start talking.”

“That’s a lot of stuff.”

“I know, sir.” Adrienne nodded. 

“You’re a girl, right?”

“Uhhh...Yes.”

“Can you...um, what kind of stuff...do you find attractive in men?”

“...If I was in Hope’s position, in a conversation with you…” Adrienne sighed. “Don’t include the thing about you being the nameless weirdo ‘lil dick boy who keeps murdering people, tell her she’s pretty but don’t say it too much because then she’ll think that you only like her for the way she looks, so also compliment stuff like her intelligence and her strength and her personality.” 

“How?”

“Like…” Adrienne sighed again. “Okay, look at me.” Rose turned to look at him. “Practice on me.”

“Uh…” Rose swallowed and nodded. “Hey.” 

“Hello.” Adrienne curtsied. 

“You’re really pretty. What’s your name?”

“Thank you! My name is Hope. Are you from out of town?”

“Yeah.”

“Where?”

“Uh...I’m traveling here from...Italy.”

“That’s lovely!” Adrienne smiled. “And what’s your name?”

“...Rose.”

“Well, it’s good to meet you.”

“You too.” Rose bowed.

“Okay, that was good,” Adrienne said. “Now, pretend…” He pressed his brow together in thought. “You and her have been friends for a while, and you’re trying to kiss her. Go.”

“Um…” Rose shrugged and took a step forward. “Hope.”

“Rose.” Adrienne smiled again. “How is everything?”

“Great,” Rose replied, taking another step forward.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Hope, I...um, I like you. A lot.” He took another step forward, and another one, pinning Adrienne to the wall of hedges behind them. Adrienne stared at him for a moment, then sighed.

“...First of all, no.” He flicked his forehead, pushing him away. “Don’t invade her personal space, and don’t look so sad about it: put on a smile but not a fake one. Don’t hint to anything sexual, don’t make dirty jokes, and never touch her.”

“How...uh, how do I kiss her without touching her?”

“She needs to kiss you,” Adrienne told him. 

“...Why?”

“Because I said so.”

 Ophelia walked into her master’s study room, dusting the shelves and sweeping the floor and straightening the paintings, and cleaning the window as she did every week. She looked down at the open diary on the table. He always left it open. Her fingers brushed over the pages and she read the first line curiously…

I haven’t thought about Hope in weeks...I talk about her a lot, but when I’m alone, her face is never the first to grace my mind…

She quickly looked away, shaking her head and mentally scolding herself. She walked out of the room and closed the door behind her, sighing. 

The face I see...Soft, thin lips, sharp cheekbones and jaw, eyes like rocks. Her every feature reminds me of rocks. Hard and strong and unmoving. When she smiles, I see the sun rising above the mountains. When she laughs I picture someone striking stone against stone, sparking a fire. And when she touches me...she barely ever touches me. But when she does, mostly by accident, I imagine a huge cave in the middle of the rain- holding infinite secrets and unknowns, yet so willing and able to protect you and keep you dry. 

I re-read these notes to myself almost every night, because every night they get more and more...confusing? I don’t understand my own words. 

She seems to avoid me if she can. Like she’s afraid of me. If I go to touch her, she moves away. If I talk to her, she answers in the most condescending tone she can muster. She never seems flustered, never hesitates or hovers...

“There she is,” Adrienne whispered. He and Rose crouched behind a bush, looking out at the village, and one villager in particular; Hope had the most gorgeous fair skin and black ringlets that Adrienne likened to raw rotini pasta, done up in a long ponytail. Her face still looked somewhat clean despite having patches of dirt here and there, and her hands, yet scarred from work in the fields, were still soft and perfect, just like her full pink lips. She stood with an older woman, carrying three bags of groceries in her hands, one hanging from her wrist that was making her hand turn white with its weight. She looked tired, sweat beading her brow, but she still walked up to the old woman’s porch to set the bags down. Boys and men alike watched her carefully, making sure to just glance as if indifference existed between them, mostly so that their wives, girlfriends, or mothers didn’t burst out of the bushes and start beating them with brooms and such. Everyone saw Hope as a pure, kind ray of light in the village that could never do wrong, never misstep, never be tarnished by wrinkles or dust or any of the things that come naturally with age. Adrienne hated it- but not because he disagreed; because it was absolutely true. There wasn’t a single thing wrong with her -unless you count the horse eating thing- and despite how poor her family was, she always went out of her way to help people in need. 

“She’s just as beautiful as the last time I saw her,” Rose mumbled, beaming brightly. Adrienne had forced him to wear more common clothing so he would blend with the villagers. 

“Go.” Adrienne coaxed, trying to shoo him out of the bush.

“What?” He looked at him like he was crazy. “You have to come with me.”

“Haha, no thank you.”

“But you said you’d introduce me! I can’t do this without you.”

“Hope probably won’t even recognize me! Uh...you know, because I’ve changed so much since I was younger. Plus, I’m supposed to be all victim kidnap-y in your castle, if you don’t recall.”

“I can fix that with a quick cloaking spell.” He offered.

“No!” Adrienne couldn’t risk it. “It’s fine, just go up there and say hello. Tell her you’re a traveler and you’ll be staying in town for a bit. That you need directions to the place you’re staying...just tell her it’s the Clucking Rabbit, that’s the only inn close to here. Then start a conversation. Just like I taught you, young Jedi. Go!” He tried to push Rose, to no avail.

“What the hell is a Je-”

“Shut up and flirt!” Adrienne finally managed to push him out of the bush, grunting from the effort. He watched as Rose sheepishly approached Hope, fiddling with his fingers. He said something -it was too far away to hear- and she nodded, pointing East, then smiling that perfect, white-toothed smile of hers and saying something else. He replied with what must have been a question, as he tilted his head in that way he did whenever he asked something, and she answered quickly, still smiling. A few minutes passed of them talking, Hope fiddling with her braid and biting her lip in the most annoying f*cking way possible, and Rose just lapping it up like a lovesick puppy. But wasn’t that what Adrienne wanted? For Rose and Hope to be together. Exactly. So he should be happy, excited that his plan worked. But he wasn’t, for some reason. He felt like a pile of dog sh*t that had been stepped on, and as frustrated as one can be before tearing all their hair out and going completely mad. 

“So?” Adrienne asked impatiently as he and Rose walked back to the castle (Rose could have brought them there with magic, but Adrienne insisted). “How was it?”

“It was...a literal dream come true.” He sighed wistfully. “She’s so beautiful. Like a daisy sprouting from cracks in the concrete…”

“...Yes, I suppose she is, sir.” Adrienne nodded slowly.

“Oh, that reminds me, do you know what kind of things she likes? I want to get her some kind of present…”

“...Well, horses.” He whispered, a smile tugging at his lips. Rose snorted a laugh and then covered his mouth, nodding silently. “But I do remember that she loved writing. Ink is expensive, but her mom always bought her a bottle on her birthday, and she made it last.” Rose got a concentrated look on his face.

“Writing...hm. Okay.” 

And so he gave her ink, and she gave him fruit in return the next day. 

Then he gave her parchment, and she gave him a bouquet of daisies. 

He gave her a quill, she gave him a map of the world. 

And Adrienne watched, then listened as Rose reenacted every second of it, even though it made him sick to his stomach, even though it made his insides curl up for some reason, he listened. 

Dinner was smoked brisket and potatoes. The meat was salted to perfection, with a sprinkling of herbs over it, and the potatoes were steamy hot, peppered and mixed with freshly roasted rosemary. For once in his life, Rose was completely silent, staring at the meal instead of at Adrienne. Finally he looked up and said with his mouth full, 

“The food is good.”

“Yes, but I’d appreciate it much more if you’d close your mouth while you’re eating, sir.” Adrienne gave him a look, delicately placing a chunk of brisket into his mouth.

“Mm.” Rose grunted, closing his mouth to chew and washing his food down with a swig of fruity red wine.

“So, I’ve been meaning to ask you…” Adrienne raised an eyebrow while Rose shoved a hunk of potato into his mouth and tried very hard to keep his lips shut. 

“Hm?”

“I’d like to-” He was cut off by a strangled noise and immediately his eyes darted to Rose. “Sir, are you okay?” Rose’s eyes were wide and frantic, and he made a noise like a cough, but weaker. Adrienne stood up so quickly that his chair tumbled over and hit the ground with a thump, but he didn’t care. He screamed, “Help!” as Rose clawed at his throat, trying to choke out words. Adrienne managed to lift him out of the chair and wrap an arm around him, placing his hand on his chest and hitting his back five times between his shoulder blades, hyperventilating as the choking only got worse. 

“Help-” Rose coughed, his voice hoarse and strained. Panicking, Adrienne moved both his hands to his abdomen, lacing them together and trying to thrust as best he could. 

“F*ck- just stay with me, okay?” He mumbled shakily, watching Rose’s fingers and lips turn greyish blue. His face got pale. “Stay. Don’t pass out.”

“Can’t- breathe-” Rose gagged, going from pale to dusky. 

“Help!” He tried screaming again. “Ophelia, help!” Rose stopped flailing and Adrienne sucked in a breath. “No. No no no no no, stay with me. Stay awake.”

“I can’t...” His eyelids were slowly closing. 

“Stop it, just stay awake, keep your eyes open!” Adrienne shouted, still desperately hitting below his chest. 

Suddenly everything went silent. Ohpelia’s rapid footsteps were the only sound echoing through the castle as Rose’s body went limp in Adrienne’s arms and slid onto the floor, pale and cold as the snow. Adrienne trembled all over, and for just a moment he felt a numbing shiver crawl under his skin. He kneeled down with unsteady legs, gently placing two fingers on Rose’s neck. He felt nothing. 

Rose was dead.