Work Text:
I look at her. The coal that I am putting extreme pressure on. The sooth on her cheeck. The bravery of her unwavering smile. The clearness of her pale blue eyes.
Something more valuable is forming there.
Something more, that I can summon and use.
In nature, it is going to take a few more centuries. In my hands, it is going to take but days. All she needs is a few well-aimed comments. There is no rush. I am not putting myself through this for it to be difficult.
She is becoming something more. Within herself, she is crystalising. What stirs in her eyes, just under that glossed surface of innocence,
it is hate.
She is displaying ever more new surfaces even as she tries to keep herself from me. These smooth shining surfaces and edges she shows for me to work upon next, I hardly need reach, my grasp is but physical, her mind is so much easier. She is giving over every emotion.
She is refracturing into different aspects of herself to keep her sanity. How smoothly she navigates those, her selves, as she navigates this house that she has known since the start of her life. Uncertainties were a stranger to her, before I came.
In the name of love and kindness she is bound to this house and to us. She is inextricable from it, as she is becoming inextricable to us. She'd do so much for her joyful past, for hope, I doubt she'd leave this house if the prince himself were to offer her a castle.
It is something I will never understand. This futile, absolute dedication. To push one's wellbeing so far behind an illussion long dead. I don't have to understand her deeply clinging nostalgia to guide it to my advantage.
As I watch her work on the tasks I decide for her she becomes, in a way, much dearer to me. She vastly progresses into something more special to me than the just some very beautiful girl who welcomed me here. She is my treasure now.
There are mornings I wake and long to see her groveling. I look forward to it in ways I did not before. I look forward to catching her in her nightgown, startling her with a command at the earliest of hours. I stay present to see her execute the task as sleep and weariness have her sway. Whether it is cleaning, sweeping up a suddenly urgent smidgen of dust, adjusting my clothes or bed coverings, making me a drink at midnight,... she fails not to provide my thoughts with the pleasantness of a rush of power.
She befits me. I've worn her in as one would a good shoe.
There comes a clarity to her, that such objects lack, an insight.
As a diamond she twirls in the sunlight that streams in from the springday running its full will outside. Her feet barely touch the floor as she moves. The image of her cut clear as glass, as my desire for her, it draws lines in the air, in my vision of her, to be kept forever in my mind, and mine alone.
There is little I enjoy as much as to hold gems and jewels, to turn them over in my hands and fingers to look at this beauty I posses. I look for the unique sparkles that I alone am privy to. It is the same watching her. I begin to wish to lock her in my jewellery box with my real riches. Then keep the fine key on my person at all times. As I sometimes do lock her within her attic room for safe keeping.
Make no mistake, she is still the dirt under my sole. Even the prettiest of shoes are worn to catch the filth for their wearer.
Just a bit more polishing is all she needs.
I will give her one persona more.
I call her to my bedroom.