Tales after Dusk 01

She shakes her head, "It is a fine mask, but it doesn't match. Can you paint it, maybe?"

Reluctantly Simon heads back to the cellar. For certain, Myrtle would say paint it red, but he thinks it is too much, so he paints it white. Carefully, he heats up a piece of metal wire and burns a beautiful ivy designs into the edges of it. He presses delicate gold leaf into the singed areas before using a long strip of leftover gold to wrap the edges of the mask. Finally, he takes a delicate gold ribbon and threads it through the holes on the sides. Satisfied with his work, he closes the cellar and returns to the kitchen.

Myrtle nods approvingly, "This is wonderful!"

Together they eat a small lunch, Simon too nervous to get much down. He pulls out the cloak clasp Lia gave him and hands it to Myrtle.

"She told me to wear this tonight. Do you suppose you could hold onto it and the mask for me, until then?"

She takes the clasp, recognizing it as one of his father's. Myrtle can sense his apprehension, as if he simply said he was worried about the Baron keeping his word. "Of course. I will hand it to you when you get on the carriage."

The afternoon passes antagonizingly slow. Simon takes a bath, soaking in the tub that Myrtle filled with spruce clippings and sage. He dries off and brushes his hair, adding a bit of cream to keep it styled perfectly. He dresses slowly, using a plain clasp to hold the flowing red cloak in place. Myrtle smiles at him, touching his cheek softly, "You remind me of your father."

It is late in the afternoon when the Augustines arrive at home. Before Simon can greet any of them, they rush off to their own rooms to get ready. As he stands in the entry way, waiting with Myrtle, they can hear the Baron cussing about the carriage breaking an axle on the way in. Apparently Garrett had to ride the horse into town to fetch a blacksmith to fix it.

Garrett is the first one down stairs; he has a velvet, dark green cloak flowing over his light green shirt. With tan colored pants and brown boots, he reminds Simon of a tree.

Simon rubs his palms on his pants nervously, he isn't sure how his step brothers and step father will act upon seeing him so dressed up. Once Garrett's eyes fall upon him, he offers a genuine smile while standing across the room, "Not bad, Simon."

Sighing a breath of relief he nods in thanks. The three of them wait in silence for several more minutes before the Baron and Martin come down the stairs. At first they don't see him but as soon as Benedict's cold eyes land on him, Simon knows that he made a mistake.

"You can't be serious," Martin sneers, "he can't actually be going with us."

Benedict walks to Simon slowly, "Now I did give him my word, son. This cape is exquisite, it gives it just the right touch..." He slowly runs his fingers over the fabric. Simon looks at Garrett, who appears just as worried as he feels.

"Too bad you're a thief!" With a swift yank he rips the cape off of Simon, the clasp catching on his neck and choking him slightly before it breaks. Simon falls to the ground, whacking his head against the wall.

"And my boots! How dare you!" Martin shrieks, ripping the boots right off of Simon's feet, "And isn't that your shirt, Garrett?"

Stunned, Garrett stutters, "No—no it isn't," he steps forward to come to Simon's aid but a cold glare from the Baron stops him dead in his tracks.

"Yes, I believe it is," Benedict says coolly as he grabs the front of it and tears it in half.

Martin laughs wickedly, "We should hurry or we will be late, father." He turns on his heels and walks out the front door.

The Baron stands up, carefully sweeping back a strand of hair that fell out of place, "Quite right. Good night, Simon." Following Martin's lead, he exits.

Garrett hovers next to Simon, shaking his head, "Simon, I'm so sorry, I had no idea—" he whispers.

"Garrett!" Benedict's cold voice comes wafting into the house, "Are you joining us, or should you like to stay with Simon?"

He looks to the door then back at Simon, truly at a loss as to what to do.

"Go," Simon whispers, closing his eyes. He doesn't open them until he can hear Garrett get into the carriage and the horse hooves retreating into the distance.

"Oh lord, Simon—" Myrtle starts but she gets cut off.

"Forget it, it was stupid of me to think that he could change." He gets up and swiftly walks away, running up the stairs to his room.

Slamming the door behind him, he tears off the rest of his clothes screaming in anger, though he isn't sure who he is more upset with, the Baron or himself. He puts his hands on the old fireplace mantel, staring at the floor gasping for air to calm himself. He should have known better than to trust the Baron. Now, he is completely screwed.

He sorts through a stack of clothes, pulling on the ones from last night. It isn't ideal, but it is better than his work clothes. Just as he pulls on his shirt, Myrtle walks in.

"Simon?"

"May I have the clasp?"

She tilts her head, "What are you doing to do?"

He throws his arms up, "What else can I do? I'm going to the castle. I can go in through the servant entrance. You said you knew the cook there? Perhaps he can help me get word to Lia. Once she comes back to the kitchen, I will tell her everything. I don't intend to come back, Myrtle."

"Please, calm down," she shakes her head at him.

"You mean to stop me?" he barks at her. The Baron hurt him but the thought that Myrtle would prevent him from going wounds him even deeper.

"No, Simon. I mean to help you," she takes off her necklace, holding the key out to him.

He takes it, adding irritably, "And what am I to do with this?" Seeing her walk out of the room, he follows.

"When you were born, your father gave me that key. It was odd I thought. When I asked him what it was for, he laughed a little and after some consideration he replied that it unlocked his heart. He told me that there would be a time when he asked for it back but if for some reason he left this world, that I was to give it to you when the time was right."

Slowly, they walk down the first flight of stairs. Instead of heading down the second set, they turn and walk towards the Baron's room—his parents old room. She opens the door, "It wasn't until after your mother died, that I discovered what it unlocked. I was turning the mattress, and I thought it was odd that this bed took up so much space." She kneels down next to it, Simon following suit.

He reaches out, fingers tracing the intricate carvings on the side. Delicate herds of deer are captured mid bound through the forest. The trees lean, seemingly alive, leaves flowing over an open meadow. In the background the castle of Northhill stands tall. Simon's fingers stop on one particular leaf; within its veins he recognizes his father's signature. Then he realizes that the leaf is oddly shaped like a heart. He looks to Myrtle, she nods in return.

With a little pressure, the leaf pushes to the side on a hinge, revealing a lock behind it. He slides in the key and slowly turns, hearing a soft click. The whole panel jolts forward, much like a drawer. As the pair scoots back, the drawer opens further to reveal an astonishing sight.

Dozens of soft velvet bags contain unused gems, stacks of delicate little boxes show jewelry his father couldn't bear to part with. A small book inside turns out to be a long letter that William wrote for his son. Simon can't bring himself to open it just yet.

Myrtle reaches in and pulls out a silk covered package. Slipping the ribbon off, she unfolds it to show a delicate white shirt, golden colored pants and a large cape with golden scrolls woven into it. Underneath are a finely made pair of light tan boots.

"This is what your father wore when he married your mother. It is uncanny, how well the mask that you made today matches it." She rests her hand on his shoulder.

He shakes his head, "I can't believe the Baron never found this."

With a smile she adds, "and he never will. Do you remember the woman who used to bring oranges to the house when your mother was alive? Well I visited her yesterday while you were out and I asked her to come help me. She should be here any minute—tonight her and I will pack up everything and put it somewhere safe for you."

"I will help you," he says quietly.

Myrtle gets to her feet, "No you won't, you have a ball to go to. Now get dressed."

...

Simon doesn't recall his father being a large, muscular man but he must have been because the clothes fit him perfectly. Standing in front of the mirror, he secures the cloak with Lia's clasp before smoothing his hair back into place. Upon seeing his reflection, he is a bit unnerved to see his father staring back at him.

The sun has just set when he makes his way down to the entry. Myrtle and her friend wait patiently; he blushes at their oohs and aahs. The old woman hands him his mask and the three walk outside. The ladies managed to get a saddle on Lady; they brushed her mane and tail and braided them with matching gold ribbons. He smiles to himself, feeling confident for the first time in a long while.

"I don't expect you home tonight. In a few days I will come to town and find you, we will meet at Delacour's. Agreed?"

"Yes, thank you for everything," he hugs Myrtle, giving her a kiss on the cheek before hugging her friend as well.

Lady doesn't need direction, swiftly trotting towards the castle while Timber runs beside them almost the entire way.

...

"Good evening, Sir," the stable boy says, holding onto Lady's bridle while Simon dismounts. He feels a bit silly about the formal greeting but he tries to remind himself that tonight he can be whoever he wants.

"Thank you," he responds kindly, putting on his mask and tightening it.

The ball is already in full swing. His palms begin to sweat, frustrated that he is late. With his head held high and his shoulders back, he swiftly walks down the dark path leading to the castle front doors. The trees on either side shelter the night and it isn't until he walks up the steps that he can see the large columned overhang that wraps around the building. Pausing a moment in the shadows he takes a deep breath, knowing that once he enters into the castle his life will change forever.

On either side of the doors stands a guard who nods stiffly at him. The foyer of the castle is vast with two large staircases leading up either side, hallways stretching out below them and huge intricate doors beneath that lead to a room filled with spinning dresses and vibrant music. Elegant seating areas arranged carefully around the room are filled with chatty guests who all but hush when he walks in. His heart races, worried that something is wrong with his appearance but he continues to walk slowly with his eyes forward at the ballroom just beyond the doors ahead of him. His nervousness wanes when he hears a woman gasp a whisper to her friend.

"Who is he?" She all but purrs.

"I don't know, but I'd like him to be mine," her friend replies.

He can't help but smile a little and turn towards the women, offering a kind nod as he walks by. Their giggling follows him into the ballroom.

Just as he enters, the dance finishes to a round of applause from the participants. Though he stands to the side, it isn't long before he draws the attention of men and women alike. Simon pretends not to notice until he catches the Baron, Martin and Garrett staring at him. Though he cannot see their faces, he recognizes Garrett's clothing and deducts the rest. His heart almost stops. Even from across the room, he reads their lips.

"Who is that man?" the Baron asks.

"Competition," Martin responds, aggravated obviously from the sneer that accompanies his words.

When he glances to Garrett, they lock eyes. He thinks he sees recognition in his face; Garrett shrugs his shoulders, "Never seen him before in my life," he replies to his father. With a sly wink, he turns away and heads towards the buffet at the other end of the room.

Simon breathes again; unsure why Garrett's personality has changed so drastically in the past few days. His vision is soon cut off when an elegant lady steps into it. Her long, flowing gown is tinted the slightest shade of pink and though she hides behind a white mask, Simon could find her smile in a crowd of women.

"Hello, Miss Lia," he says softly. "You look absolutely breathtaking."

Her eyes appraise him, pleased at what she sees, "It is I who should compliment you. Women across the room were chatting about a handsome stranger who walked in. That is how I know you arrived."

Just as a song queues up, he offers her his arm which she takes gladly. He can see a tinge of jealousy in the faces of the women as they walk by, accompanied by the same in the men. They must make an extravagant pair.

They arrive on the floor just as the song begins and slowly they waltz amongst the other couples, swaying expertly to the beat. He doesn't wish to ruin the wonderful moment but feels that he need to confess to her immediately.

"Lia," he begins. "I'm afraid that I have been a little dishonest with you."

Despite his words, she smiles, "Are you in fact betrothed?"

He shakes his head, trying to gather up the guts to continue, but she questions him again.

"Children?"

Again, he shakes his head.

"Do you love me?"

He can't help but smile, "More than is healthy," he responds coyly.

"Then it doesn't matter what you have to say." She takes a deep breath, "Let us consider it even, for I too haven't been entirely honest with you."

He laughs, disbelieving that anything she could have kept from him could be worse than what he has kept from her, "What, will you turn into a pumpkin at midnight?"

She smiles warmly as they spin around the floor, but ever so slowly her glee fades as she looks into his eyes, "Simon, I'm afraid I neglected to tell you that I—"

A loud pounding noise interrupts her; the guards by the door pound their staffs on the floor. The music stops and everyone turns towards them.

"Presenting the King of Northhill," the herald calls out to the room. All of the men sweep into a bow, the women into a low curtsey as the King walks into the room. He is a handsome man, though his features are ordinary, there is something about the air in which he walks that makes him alluring. He wears a deep, rich red velvet cloak over a matching red and white shirt and pants. The golden crown on his head stands high as he walks to the throne perched at the head of the room.

Simon is slow to sweep into a bow, following suit with the rest of the room. With Lia just in front of him, he smiles softly at the thought that soon he will be with her. Her beautiful gown bunches at her lower back, adding to the train that she carries behind her. Her long brown hair is delicately pinned up into flowing curls with a gorgeous adornment. His heart leaps into his throat and he instantly becomes nauseous when he sees that the adornment is three delicately crafted, pink lilies, with pearls as stamens.

He rises with the crowd, feet glued to the floor though he wants to run as far away as possible. He didn't know her when he first met her in the woods—what an idiot he is.

"Thank you all for coming," the King's voice is as smooth as his velvet cloak. "Now, if I could just introduce you to your Princess Amelia," he says, scanning the crowd, who laughs softly at his joke.

Lia turns to Simon, worried look in her eyes as she slides her hand around his arm and leads him through the crowd, softly whispering, "Simon, I wanted to tell you sooner..."

"Ah, here she is! Please, continue!" Instantaneously the music starts up and couples begin dancing again, though all eyes are on Simon and Lia as they approach the King.

"Hello, father," Lia says warmly.

The King takes Lia's hands in his and places a gentle kiss on her cheek, "Hello my dear. I am glad to see that you are in a fine mood."

She blushes and motions to Simon, "Father, may I introduce you to Simon Augustine?"

He wants to run. He fully considers it but his body acts without consent from his mind. With a smile he elegantly bows before the King, "It is a pleasure, my lord."

"Hmm," the King says, "Simon, is it?"

He rises and though he tries to will his feet to flee, his eyes meet with the King's, "Yes, Sir."

The King smiles, "So, it is you that my daughter has been sneaking out to see, is it?"

Lia's eyes grow wide, completely caught off guard. Simon swallows hard, trying to keep his voice steady, "You would be correct, your highness."

Nodding slowly, he replies, "Thank you for saving my daughter, Simon."

"How did you know?" Lia whispers, face growing more pink than her dress.

He laughs musically, "Clarkson," the King points over to a brute of a man standing in the corner. Clarkson appears to be twice the size of Simon, dressed in all black so that he can blend into the shadows, "He follows you everywhere, always out of sight. You didn't think that I would let my only daughter run away without someone to protect her, did you? Don't worry, I am not mad, in fact I am glad that you did so that you could meet such a wonderful young man. He is the one you've chosen, isn't he?"

Simon can see Lia nod out of the corner of his eye. His heart pounds so hard that it throbs in his vision.

"Excellent! Now please, enjoy the night. We will announce it later," the King genuinely smiles at Simon, who returns it as best as he can. He offers up Lia his arm so that they can walk out of the room without much gossip.

Simon can feel his legs shake as he leads Lia out the front doors to the quiet darkness of the overhang, just out of ear shot of anyone else.

"Simon, I am so sorry I didn't tell you sooner," she whispers softly once he lets go of her arm.

He unties his mask, turning to her, "Why?" is all he can choke out.

She struggles to explain, "I—I don't know. It was stupid of me. When you saved me in the woods, I was shocked that you didn't know who I was but at the same time I was relieved. You love me for me and not because I am the Princess—I can't say that about anyone else that I've ever met."

His eye begins to tear up and before he can stop it, the fluid breaks free. It causes the socket with his glass eye to become irritated; he rubs it tenderly, "Lia, I—I can't. I have nothing to offer you."

She grabs his hands, bringing them to her lips, "Simon it doesn't matter. I don't care who your father is, or your brothers—if you wish, you don't ever have to see them again."

He pulls her hands to his chest, resting them over his heart so that she might feel it breaking, "Lia I—I love you. More than life itself. But, I can't." The confusion on her face makes him cry harder. How much of a laughing stock would he make of her, once she found out that he is nothing more than a servant to the Augustines, that he is a nobody, with nothing to his name. She deserves better. He unlatches her cloak clasp, wishing more than ever that his father was still alive. Placing it into her hands, he turns and runs.

"Simon!" She shouts after him.

He doesn't stop. He rounds the bushes and sprints down the walkway towards the gate. He only halts once he is outside, catching his breath with his hands on his knees as he waits for the stable boy to come to him, so that he can retrieve his horse. How foolish he was to think that he could pretend to be something else, someone else. Now, not only did his lie hurt him, it hurt Lia as well.

He stands up, thinking that he owes it to her to tell her the truth before someone else does. Just as he turns back towards the castle, something hard clashes with his head, so hard it chatters his teeth. The world tips before him as he falls down, unable to stop himself. With a sickening crack, his head hits the stone road and he feels a pop. Thorough his dizziness, Simon sees a golden green, glass eye staring back at him.