Chapter Text
A heavy rain beat against the glass of her window on the dark and violently stormy night that marked the eve of Elizabeth Lavenza's marriage to Victor Frankenstein. Elizabeth, seated at her vanity mirror, brushed out her auburn curls and thought that it must be some kind of terrible omen for the heavens to be so angry on the night of her wedding.
A sudden crack of thunder rattled the house to its very foundation and the howling wind tore through the night like a scream. The blue flash of lightning that followed flooded the room with white light before leaving it once again in somber darkness. Elizabeth nearly jumped out of her skin, her brush clattering to the ground as it fell from her trembling grip.
Look at you, scared of a little storm, she chided herself as she picked the brush up and returned to her combing. Still, she felt uneasy, the hair on the back of her neck prickled as though a malevolent gaze had fallen on her.
It was but a draft, pay it no mind.
There were other matters that she should be dwelling on, though she would have preferred not to.
It was her wedding night…and her husband was nowhere to be found. Victor was off, hunting something. He wouldn’t tell her what dangerous fiend he chased, only that it was some-thing. She had pressed him to tell her more but he had rebuffed her with wild, frantic eyes, urging her to wait in their room and bolt the door until his return. So she had, for Elizabeth had always been an obedient daughter and she would be an obedient wife. No matter how little she truly wanted to be either…
Her brush snagged on a knot and she tugged anxiously. Victor never told her much of anything these days, no matter how much she begged. There had been times previously when he had shut her out, even when they were young there was a part of himself he kept locked away from her. Secrecy was his natural inclination and she allowed it, thought grudgingly, because she knew it was useless to force him. She had come to tolerate this aspect of him, she supposed, as they had both grown to tolerate the idea of their marriage.
Yet this recent development disturbed her more than any secret he had ever kept. It disturbed her because she knew that he was trying to protect her. Protective behavior from Victor usually meant one thing. He was anxious. At first she had thought that he was simply being over protective in reaction to the tragic loss of Justine and William. The entire house was still in mourning and Elizabeth could hardly blame him for being overly cautious. But something in his eyes, a glint of shame, of guilt, when he looked at her told her he knew more than he was revealing.
Did he know who had killed their brother? Their friend? If he did then why hadn’t he told her? Had he told Henry? Henry, whom he loved and trusted above all others. Henry had looked all but heartbroken when Victor had insisted that he and Elizabeth wed sooner rather than later.
In his own way she was certain Victor was trying to protect her from whatever was haunting him, He wanted to be a good friend and brother- now husband- to her. She cringed at the thought. Brother and sister to husband and wife. How on earth would they navigate that? Bitterly she wiped an angry tear from her cheek. She hated this.
It was wicked of her but she hated this all the same.
As she looked at her face in the mirror, pale and a little sad, she wondered what aspect of her life could possibly be improved by their union. They were married but she felt no joy in it. Victor continued to grow more distant and disturbed with each day, consumed by a secret terror as of yet incomprehensible to her. If only he would divulge some clue that she might understand its origin. She wished he trusted her enough to tell her what it was that haunted him-haunted them all now. As it stood, she felt as though she was watching him drift further and further away. Like an unmoored ship battered by a cruel sea.
She tried to picture the future and the road forward seemed cold and empty. For her, it would mean more endless days of being kept in the house, allowed out only when chaperoned by her adoptive father or one of the other male members of the household. Being permitted only the most artless of pursuits deemed fit for a lady of breeding while Victor traveled, perhaps to continue studying medicine abroad, and wrote to her less and less ...except there would no longer be a William, or a Justine, to divert her from the purgatory of the Frankenstein house.
A shard of pain twisted in her heart at the fresh wounds left by the loss of a woman who had been like her sister and the little brother who had been the delight of everyone in the Frankenstein household. Elizabeth knew that without them she would be more alone now than ever before. This house had already been unbearably lonesome. A grim shadow had hung over it since the death of her adoptive mother, Caroline.
She didn’t like to think about Caroline. Caroline who had picked her out for her beautiful fair face as a gift for her son to wed someday. Caroline who had insisted Elizabeth call her mother and who tried to dress her, teach her, mould her until she was perfect. Who refused to love her if she was not.
Caroline had died from treating and subsequently contracting a fever that had nearly killed Elizabeth. She was and would forever be an eternal martyr. A sacrificial lamb who had given her life for a child that wasn’t even hers.
Elizabeth had never been allowed to forget that. Alphonse Frankenstein had never been particularly attached to her but after Caroline died, he had clung, digging his talons into his adoptive daughter like a hawk with a mouse. In a grip, cruel and tight and unrelenting. There was in Alphonse an undeniable desire to be a father to Elizabeth in the way Caroline had been a mother but he couldn’t bring himself to love the child that had killed his wife.
Elizabeth had seen in his eyes how he longed to hurt her sometimes, how he needed her to remain close because Caroline had sacrificed so much to keep her alive but he also needed to hate her for what she had cost him. He refused to let her have the Frankenstein name until she was wed to Victor. As Caroline had intended. In a way, her marriage to Victor was keeping some spirt of his wife alive.
Elizabeth supposed she understood. She knew she should forgive him for it. She tried to.
She imagined briefly what would become of her life if Mr. Frankenstein died and Ernest married and moved away. Would she grow old and grey spending her days writing letters to Victor and hoping he answered just one of them as his demons drove him further and further away? Perhaps she'd fall ill herself and die, alone in an empty room, and no one would notice for months while her remains moldered to dust.
She put down her brush, her gaze falling to the gold band on her finger. They were finally married, just as they had been promised. She’d been all of six years old, orphaned, alone and betrothed, too young to understand or to protest and neither she nor Victor ever permitted to question whether it was what they truly wanted. Elizabeth bitterly remembered how she'd been presented to Victor. How her adoptive mother had even referred to her as a "gift" for her son. A flare of anger sparked in her breast and she forced herself to tamp it down. Calm, Elizabeth, she reminded herself.
It couldn’t be said that Elizabeth had regrets, necessarily, and it would be even more untrue to say that she did not love Victor with all of her heart. He had been her closest companion and confidant for all of their childhood. It could have been worse. What if no one had wanted her at all? She could easily have been abandoned for ever and left to wander the world alone, helpless and unwanted. She did not have the luxury of ingratitude.
Any dreams she may ever have had of forging her own life had been crushed in childhood. Her adoptive parents had often told her that the best thing she could ever hope to be was Victor’s wife. After all, what other sort of life could there be for an orphan? For the Frankenstein’s ward? They hadn't even permitted her to take their name until she was wed to Victor. She was without blood ties and without wealth of her own. No, this was her only choice, and it offered her a security others in her predicament could never have.
Not that the Frankenstein’s were being unkind when they had gently reminded her of it, but remind her they had, often. It was unwise to be discontent when she was so blessed to have been taken in. To have her life planned out to the last detail so she needn't ever think, or worry...
...or dream.
Another bolt flooded the room with light and cast eerie shadows all around her. Again, the uneasiness, the sense that she was not alone with her thoughts. In the fading glow she cast a glance into the darkness of her room. Wood shifted and creaked.
It was an old house; such sounds were not unusual. The storm was causing her to lose her wits.
She looked at her marriage bed, cold and empty now as it was sure to be often in the future. She was secretly grateful for that. Love Victor though she did, the thought of bedding him turned her stomach. Did that make her a poor wife? Maybe, but she knew Victor was unlikely to push her to do her wifely duties.
Elizabeth was not stupid. Nor was she naïve, she had seen how Victor looked at Henry Clerval, in an eager, hungry way that he had never looked at her…or any other woman for that matter. Victor’s father had seen it too. Perhaps that was why he was so keen in seeing his son take his adoptive daughter as a bride. It was in everyone’s best interest. Especially hers and she could accept her lot and be grateful.
Really, she could.
Didn’t she still love Victor as any sister loved her favorite brother? Even if their union wasn't born of a romantic love, she reasoned, they could be content. Perhaps it was even for the best, after all, their marriage could be a shield to protect him from scorn and the whispers of people who judged harshly those who’s proclivities were... unnatural. She had reconciled with herself long ago that what she had with Victor was a love of its own kind and that it would be enough for her. Even if it wasn’t the kind of love she truly wanted…
How many in this day and age could afford the luxury of romance anyway?
Better a bride than an orphan. She stood up from her chair, smoothed down her curls, removed her robe and prepared to slip into her vacant marriage bed.
Another heavy roll of thunder and a flash of lightning. Elizabeth jumped. In the light of the electric bolt the room had been illuminated and she could have sworn she'd seen something reflected in the glass of her mirror. A figure, lurking in the dark. Watching
"What a beautiful bride you make."
Elizabeth whirled sharply around, trying frantically to see through the shadows that obscured her bedchamber for the source of the strange, deep, voice that mocked her. Outside the soft, glowing circle of her bedside lamp there was nothing but blackness and the sound of the heavy rain battering the house. But the air in the room had become so thick with tension she could feel the entity's presence. Still as the grave and brimming with malice.
“Who's there? Who are you?" she whispered, her voice cracking a little with fear.
Another flash of lightning lit the room. There at the very foot of her bed stood a terrible figure. She fought down a scream. The man? Creature? Was massive and through its curtain of long black hair two yellow eyes glowed in the dim lamplight. Her chair clattered to the floor as she tripped over it in her hurry to put as much distance between herself and it as she could manage. When it took a step towards her, she flung an arm over her face and cowered, crawling back into the corner.
She heard it give a deep, inhuman snarl and it lunged towards her, closing the gap. A hand so large it could have covered her entire face seized her hair and dragged her to her feet.
“Look upon me! Do not turn your eyes from the rotted fruit of your husband’s labor. This is the work of the man that you love! Look at me and face what your Victor has wrought!” the creature leaned in so close she could feel cool breath across her skin, breaking it out in gooseflesh. She could clearly see it-no, him, now illuminated by the light of her small oil lamp. Through the ghastly visage of taut yellow skin and haphazard stitching she could see that the creature was, or had been once, a man. In his strange yellow eyes, there was a burning rage, even more apparent was his despair. He wore such a hollow, haunted, look that Elizabeth found that she was moved to pity despite her fear and the painful grip on her hair. So, this was that dreadful something that Victor had been hiding.
Victor what have you done?
“A…are you the dark secret Victor hides from me? Are you-,” she swallowed thickly, when she found her voice again it was little more than a thin whisper “Are you the cause of our suffering?”
He looked away, lowering his head as though he was loathe to remember. Finally, he replied in an almost tentative voice, “There is blood on my hands-,” he winced at her choked gasp, “-but also on your dear Victor’s,” the anger had returned and he swung his head around to glare down at her menacingly. “He has not told you of me?” he sounded weary, but not surprised. The hand clutching her hair released her.
Freed from the grip Elizabeth retreated from him as far as she could, darting around him before he could make another grab for her, “Why are you here? What is it you want from me?!” she cried moving away until the backs of her knees touched the bed and she could go no further.
“I have come to fulfill an unhappy promise I made to your wretched husband,” he took a step towards her, “Unlike him, I keep my word,” he reached out one of his giant hands and Elizabeth skittered back across the bed, sending the sheets and blankets flying in disarray. He looked down at her with something that looked almost like pity, “Do not make this more difficult than it must be.”
“Wait! If you do not harm me I’ll-I’ll make sure that you are treated fairly!” she knew as she spoke the words that it was a feeble bargain. Once the truth was revealed there would be no mercy for Victor, or this creature. She remembered how eager the court had been for Justine’s death. Undoubtedly the same mob that had reveled in the destruction of her own friend, little more than a young girl, would destroy this creature and burn Victor with him. Likely herself and the rest of the family as well, and then, when that didn't sate them, they'd rally together and raze the entire house to the ground, pillaging it of its wealth and leaving nothing but ash in their wake.
The creature knew it too, and he threw back his head and laughed harshly, “Oh, It's too late for that by far! I have seen enough of man’s cruelty to know that there is no fairness, not for one such as I. Nor for you either poor bride. We are all damned in the end,” He advanced again hand outstretched towards her neck; his intent clear.
“P-please! Wait! Before you continue at least tell me, what is your name?” she asked desperately, hoping to divert him from his goal by appealing to whatever humanity he might have. She thought, perhaps, if she gave this poor creature some modicum of compassion he could be swayed. She had to try. Giving him a small, hopeful smile to show she meant to be friendly she touched her hand to her chest, "Please, this needn’t be! My name is Elizabeth. Tell me who you are?"
That gave him pause. Why must she try to speak to him? He would have much preferred she scream and curse him as all the others of her kind had done. This was already difficult enough... His face crumpled. He should have ignored her and consummated his revenge quickly and cleanly. He knew it was no used to delay and it was certainly not in his best interest to feed any false hope for either of them. Not now. But, something about her soft, dark eyes and the earnest, pleading look on her face made his resolve slip. She was terrified; he could see that, could hear it in her voice. Yet, she still spoke to him and looked at him as though he were a person, someone not yet beyond reason. Not yet beyond hope. Even if she was only stalling to save her life, it was a far cry from the unwavering horror he had grown accustomed to and he wanted-needed her to give him a little more. He found himself wanting her to hear him and know his tale. Wrong though it felt, to steal her kindness before destroying her, he lowered his hand and answered her question.
“He gave me no name. He-he gave me nothing…only took everything.” the words fell from his lips as a quiet sob.
Trembling Elizabeth, struck by a moment of genuine pity, for he looked so very broken, reached out and touched his hand, “I’m sorry…I can see a deep pain in your eyes,” shaking she whispered, “Let me…” and reached up to move a strand of his hair very carefully away from his face.
He shuddered and leaned into the touch unconsciously, savoring it briefly before he forced himself to remember why he was here. Under any other circumstances he would have wanted nothing more than to let her continue. To let her caress away the relentless ache he carried in his heart. He was so tired and angry and hurt....
But it was too late now. For her to offer him comfort at a time he could no longer accept it could not be a balm, only salt in an open wound. He steeled himself, letting his rage fuel him again. Why should it be Victor who possessed a mate of such tenderness? Why should Victor be blessed with her kindness and love when he had no choice but to be denied?! It was too late for him and for her. His maker had cast him as a monster.
So, a monster he would be.
With a low, sorrowful moan he grasped at Elizabeth’s hand, wrenching it away from his face. Grabbing her slender neck in his other hand he snarled down at her, pinning her to the bed under him, a manic frenzy settling on his twisted face, “You have delayed my purpose long enough!”
She whimpered in his grip, her pale, slender hands clawing at his thick arm in rising panic, “Please! Please wait! What is it you want?! What did Victor do to drive you to such hatred? Can it not be atoned?”
The creature drew back his lips, displaying his starkly white teeth. Again, he could feel his resolve falter. It was getting harder to cling to the fury he carried for his creator. That fury that was so essential to fuel him to violence. Feeling rage for Victor had become second nature, it was as easy as breathing. Thinking of his victims as extensions of his hated enemy made the killing nearly pleasurable. Until now. Though they had never met before this night he could not look at the girl whose throat was clutched in his hand and bring himself to squeeze.
She wasn't nameless, faceless or just another piece of Victor, a limb he could rip away to desolate his enemy and think no more of. He would remember this death and mourn it for the innocence destroyed. Perhaps it was the knowledge that with this little bride would go the very last shred of his humanity that stayed his hand now.
That and a need for her to know, for someone to know and perhaps to care just a little about what he had endured.
“Do you wish to know? Truly?” he growled his hand tightening a little, not nearly enough to cut off her breath but enough to cause a jolt of panic to shoot through her and she gripped his wrist, eyes wide with terror. Still, she nodded as best she could.
He continued, “He created me, made me from scraps of cadavers and the leavings of slaughter houses and then abandoned me to die alone. He left me to roam the earth hated and scorned by all of humanity! All I asked him for was a mate, a companion to ease the suffering he had burdened me with. He agreed and he created her as he had me only to killed her mere minutes before her birth. Then he burned his journal so I could never hope to learn the process for myself. Victor Frankenstein denied me even the smallest shred of joy and damned me to Hell when I would have merely been content with a place on Earth!"
" When I confronted him. He tried to justify himself, he claimed she would be as vile as I and he could not allow two such as us to exist. He does not believe himself a killer but she was my bride! She was my hope to live! she should have been mine!” he howled.
He had been so close. So close to having the companion he longed for. Close enough to touch her and to name her and to sit beside her and whisper his plans and dreams. Waiting for her to open her eyes and look at him not with fear but with love, and Frankenstein had robbed him of it.
He took a deep breath “He continually refuses to allow me even the smallest of the human comforts that he takes for granted,” Elizabeth did not miss how his eyes briefly swept over her form, pinned under him on the rumpled sheets, her thin night dress leaving little to the imagination, “Until he atones and I have my mate this nightmare will continue for both of us.” he finished quietly. At her neck his hand flexed, his thumb stroked her pulse sorrowfully.
The look of heartbreak on her face tore right through him. He had felt a measure of guilt over his earliest victims, before he had committed to embracing his monstrousness, but it felt nothing like this. The small, quaking girl on the bed made him want flee, to forget every plan he had made and run as far away as he could. If he didn't finish what he'd started now, he never would.
As he looked down at Elizabeth, his face twisted in dismay, “It matters little now, but know that harming you will bring me no pleasure. I promise it will be quick and I will spare you as much pain as I can. Count yourself lucky, for my own pain will go on and on.”
Elizabeth pushed her hands flat against his broad chest beseechingly. Thinking quickly, with her self-preservation and the lives of her remaining family in mind, an idea came to her and she voiced it before she could lose her nerve.
“What if I agreed to take the place of your companion? Would you accept me as your bride?”
The Creature's eyes bored into her, wide and disbelieving. He was silent for a long agonizing moment.
"You would rather me than your beloved Victor?" He asked with a horrible and sardonic laugh. He was incredulous that she had even considered it. Were she not so clearly frightened he would have accused her of mocking him.
"If you stop your rampage, and leave Victor and this family in peace, I will go with you. I will be your companion in place of the woman Victor promised," she said holding his yellow gaze with her own dark one. Though she managed to keep her voice steady she couldn't stop a few tears from spilling. The creature released her throat at last and the hand traveled up to her face. She flinched a little, half expecting a blow, but it didn't come. Rough fingers came to rest against her jaw and his thick thumb skimmed over her wet cheek, tracing more gingerly than she would have thought him capable.
"And will I forever be subject to these tears of yours? Is our union to be one of hatred and despair? Will you look at me with revulsion every day, cursing your fate as I do mine?" The harshness was gone from his voice which had grown soft with sadness.
She swallowed and drew a shaking breath, "If you are patient...give me time...and above all if you are not cruel to me then I won’t weep. I won’t despair. I’ll give you my word on that, if you give me yours that you will harm no one else." It was the truth. Elizabeth had learned how to count her blessings even in the darkest of times and to swallow back tears so that those around her needn’t be burdened. If nothing else, she was good at adapting.
She gazed pleadingly into those eerie eyes of his, searching for any trace of pity. To her surprise she found it. His heavy brows softened and when he spoke again his voice was gentle. He gazed down at her with tender grief "Would that I had met you before I had set on my path of destruction."
He swiped his thumb across her cheek, dragging a path through the salty wetness. His hand, though large and calloused, broken in texture where his fingers were awkwardly stitched, touched her with a gentleness Elizabeth hadn't felt since she was very small and her mother had dried her tears. She had forgotten how it felt, to be comforted when she cried. Tears were barely tolerated in the Frankenstein house and if one must cry then they must do so somewhere where they were not seen or heard. God damn her for her foolishness and selfishness but his touch felt good. A fit of madness must have overtaken her because despite being terrified Elizabeth so badly wanted to recapture that long lost feeling being touched with kindness that she turned her head so that his palm was pressed more fully against her face, “Please,” she whispered more urgently, rubbing her lips against his skin “Please.”
He had half hoped she would push him away, to react with disgust and fear. He had needed her to reject him as the others had so that he could finally kill her. Instead, she had nuzzled her face into his hand as though it were she who needed him. His desire to choke her vanished completely, replaced by the urge to draw her to him and hold her.
What is it like in an angel’s embrace?
She was too entrancing, her shining hair spilling across the white of her pillows, her doe eyes and her soft, soft cheek cradled in his vile hand. He couldn’t think straight with her perfect lips on his skin, it was practically a kiss.
How very badly he wanted a kiss…
He lowered his head, so close she could feel the sigh of his breath across her other cheek. His chest was against hers in a gesture that felt far more intimate than it should have. He was pressed so close she was certain he could feel the rapid beat of her heart against his own ribcage. Despite the fear coursing through her something about this exchange felt intimate in a way laying with her husband never would. He must have taken notice for she felt his own heart give a thunderous pulse. His mouth with his black lips and white teeth brushed her skin ever so softly.
The moment broke and Elizabeth heard as he sucked a breath sharply between his clenched teeth and wrenched himself away, leaving her cheeks cold in the absence of his hand and lips. He began pacing the room frantically. His mind torn as he choose between his loathsome quest and accepting her offer. In a burst of frustration, he tore down a large oak bookshelf with a vicious roar. Elizabeth had to swallow back a scream as the wood cracked and the shelf’s contents scattered around the room. He stared down at the splintered mess for several long minutes in deep contemplation. Finally, he turned back to her and said in a voice that was surprisingly calm in spite of the wildness of his eyes.
“Could you learn to love me?”
Her first impulse was to be agreeable, to say anything that might spare her life. But one look at the agony he wore killed any desire she had to lie to him.
“I don’t know, but I would be willing to try,” she said softly, “I can only promise right now that I do not hate you.”
He chewed his lip thoughtfully, uncertainty playing across his features. Elizabeth could sense that she was about to be tested and she waited with mingled hope and horror for him to speak again.
“I will accept your offer,” he regarded her warily for a moment before he crossed the room and returned to the bed, trapping her between his arms but making no move to hold or pin her in place “Kiss your husband then if you have the courage," he challenged her and Elizabeth caught something starving and ragged in his voice. Under all his threats there was an unspoken plea. As much as he was issuing a test, he was also desperately begging for her to pass it.
She hesitated and his eyes turned hard once again, he raised his hand to bring it back to her neck and she caught it. Using his arm as leverage to pull herself up to meet him.
She stopped an inch away and brought her other hand to rest on his chest. He wore no shirt under a coat that was torn and not nearly big enough for him and she stopped to look at the network of stitches holding his skin together. He was not human; she knew not how it was possible but somehow Victor had crafted this being and breathed life into him. She felt a flash of bitterness towards her absent husband. Though it was far from the first time Elizabeth had found herself forced to clean up after Victor, never had the price of protecting him been so high. She looked up into the monster's face as he studied her warily, but in those uncanny eyes was a hopeful longing. He seemed somewhat less fearsome as he patiently waited for her to keep her word.
"Bend down for me?" she asked sliding her trembling hand up to his ruined face.
He complied, stopping just an inch short of kissing her. It would be up to her to meet him the rest of the way. He was not going to make this choice for her. Elizabeth held there, her breath ghosting over his lips. He let out the smallest shudder and she could feel a sudden wetness against the tips of her fingers. He was weeping now. The knowledge that he was human enough to weep gave her the resolve she needed.
She kissed him. She had intended to be brief and chaste but his hand came around to clutch at her hair and press her into him, angling his head to deepen the kiss. There was a chill to his lips, as though the ice of winter clung to him, and something in his taste made her think of the earth after a cool rain. It was not... unpleasant. Not unpleasant at all. Forgetting herself and who or what she was kissing she softly extended her tongue to sweep over his lower lip. She would reason later that she had just been trying to convince him that she was capable of being his bride, but for now, a growing desire was dampening her fear.
He made a choked sound as though he had been burned and parted his lips. The hand on her head fisted into her hair and his other held her around her waist, pressing her against him in a way that she couldn't help but find just the slightest bit thrilling. Her rational mind screamed at her to stop but she didn’t heed it. Wild and electric, heat shot through her body awakening urges she had always forced herself to ignore. She wound her arms around his neck and pressed at the back of his head, pulling him in harder.
With a groan the creature finally pulled himself away from her, dazed and breathing hard, "You have the courage and more it seems," he said with a shaky laugh, touching his fingers to his lips, "Pack what possessions you do not wish to part with and we will leave before Victor returns."