In a single short sentence the beast had explained why he remained a beast. "It shall take a week." That was all he said, and his gaze indicated that any further questioning on the matter would require another form of answer that Festus Obadiah was dreadful of getting.
"What sort of concoction needs an entire week to produce?" He hissed as he stared at her with utter disgust in his eyes.
Lydia quietly grinding what it was she was grinding on a rock. The beast was not in sight. He had gone out again. The animals in the forest had become more quiet than usual. Evidence that something bigger and stronger than the predators of the woods now dwelled in it.
"I have visited Lyanna a few times in the past. It remains a mystery to me how I failed to notice she had a child." His eyes moved over her body and the thick lines on his forehead revealed his contempt for her, "One that looks the way you do, for that matter."
Lydia remembered saying similar words to the beast the previous night and without lifting her head from her work, she was tempted to ask, "And how do I look to you, Milord?" the very same question the beast had asked her.
"Quiet! How dare an accursed being like you question me?!" He roared and it made Lydia scoff.
Now she suddenly realized why her fear for him had dwindled. He could only act like this with her because the beast was away.
Just earlier, she caught him trembling when the beast spoke. He was afraid of angering the beast and could only show his power on a woman.
Foolish man.
"You know how you look! White hair, white lashes, white brows, skin as pale as the moon itself, and those disgusting purple eyes… Disgusting labkan."
Again, she scoffs, louder this time. "And you wonder why my mother hid me from the eyes of people like you."
"How dare you speak without being given permission to, you white demon!" He raised his hand to hit her, but the words of the beast replayed in his head and he eyed her wickedly as he withdrew his hand. "Disgusting witch." He spat, missing her head by just an inch. Before he finally walked away.
"Tis not far now. Just a little while longer and you will change your fate Lydia." She told herself. Those words were what drove her to continue because she was certain the reward would prove to be far greater than the insults.
…
After receiving explicit orders from the beast not to return again until the week was up, Festus Obadiah left behind the garments he had brought for the beast and once again, 'twas just the two of them in the cottage.
The beast and the witch.
"I shall need your help, Sire." Lydia says, walking up to him and halting three feet away. Keeping a safe distance between them.
He'd said her scent was pleasant. Although she had no idea why he would say that, because when she sniffed herself, she smelled like a pile of old books in a box in her basement…
What was pleasant about such smell? However, the look in his eyes when he said it made her dread the idea of allowing him the chance to sniff her again.
"What dost thou need of me?"
"A portion of your hair, and a portion of your claws, Sire." She says.
"What for?" He further inquires.
"To make the candles I shall be needing for the ritual." She explains.
"Candles?"
"Aye, Sire. We will need twelve special candles to perform the ritual."
"What maketh them special?"
"They are made of special properties, Sire."
"My hair and claws?"
"And blood." She adds. "And my hair and blood, and they shall be buried for three days."
"Why?"
Lydia was tempted to say the procedures of witchery was not his business, but held herself in time before the words left her mouth.
"Because we are trying to touch a curse placed by one who is dead and underneath the ground."
"Why twelve candles?" Lydia's brows furrowed as she was irritatedly wondering why he had so many questions.
"Because there are twelve gates to the afterlife. The twelve candles represent the twelve gates. We must find the gate through which the caster of your curse will come from and seize your humanity from her when we find it."
Silence looked between them for some seconds until he spoke again. "Thou speaketh of opening the gates to the afterlife, is that not disastrous?"
Indeed, she knew it could. "It could be. But no matter what, I will seize back your humanity." She said with much assurance.
"I see. Go on then, take what thou needeth from me."
And so she did as she was told. She moved closer to him, hurriedly cut the needed amount of hair from him, chipped the tip of his claws and when it was time to draw blood, she handed the crooked dagger to him to do it.
"Thou can cut off my hair and claw, but not draw my blood?" He asked and for a moment, she lifted her head and stared directly into the eyes of the beast and she wondered… 'Was he born with those eyes or were they a consequence of the curse?'
But then he blinked and she was pulled out of her thoughts.
He took the crooked dagger from her, tore into the flesh in his palm and he squeezed out his blood into the wooden bowl she held.
And when she had collected all she needed from him, she stepped away from him and he watched her scurry away to continue her business. And the beast thought to himself, 'Indeed, her scent is delicious.'