Chapter Text
The tower shook with each clap of thunder. The rain was so heavy it was almost impossible to see the ground below. Toma didn't know if that made the decision easier or harder as they sat perched on the ledge of the tower window.
How long has it been now?
Toma could only guess it had been about a year since the worst day of their life. Without the touch of the seasons, spring to winter, time would have truly lost all meaning to them. When Toma's father had brought up the tower, he couldn't help but mention it had once worked out for a neighboring country's royal problems, as if it was some comfort to Toma and their situation.
The tower wasn't a solution, just a holding cell until the problem resolved itself. Even if their father assured them, it was not. Toma knew how these things went. They were going to die here, or now (as it was more likely) go mad, before anything happened with these god-forsaken hands-
If they could go back to that moment in time, would they have done things differently? Could they have swallowed their feelings of self-worth and submitted to a disgusting stranger who had only impure thoughts and no desire to know them? No, never! They would rather bite their tongue off than suffer under them. Maybe a less biting response would have at least changed the nature of the curse.
This curse, these hands that clasp greedily to their body and the way they touch them, Toma isn't sure if that or the isolation has played the biggest part in tonight's current train of thought. The rain continues to hit them, speckling their glass and obscuring their vision. Surely, even in the story of the noble, told in hearsay from neighboring kingdoms, at least had someone to talk to.
Toma takes a piece of brickwork, broken off by a previous storm, and chucks it out the window. Visually, auditorily, the rain swallows the brick up. Would the fall even kill them? It would be just their luck that those damn hands would soften the blow just barely enough to keep them alive somehow. Coughing, bleeding, and broken they would be left to the animals and the elements. If they were lucky, they would be torn limb from limb by a pack of wolves. If not, a slow death awaited them. Neither sounded all that great.
The edge of their bare foot hangs over the edge getting more soaked as it sits there. They wouldn't even have to think about it, if they just happened to accidentally slip and catch their head on the windowsill or the floor wrong. It still might not be instantaneous.
How long would it take before anyone from the castle came looking for them? Would they come, maybe just to poke a head in? "Oh sorry. Yeah, we haven't figured out that whole curse thing. Just wanted to see if you were dead or not." It was unlikely.
At first representatives did come to try solutions and tonics but they quickly faded into obscurity as nothing seemed to work. If nothing else, it was a lesson on what not to do. The hands remained.
If not for a cure, then supplies? The various levels of the tower held many goods but even the best kept supplies spoiled and firewood burned to ash. How long did they realistically have?
"Either way I'm going to die here," Toma said with a sigh. "And for what? Because I turned down a suitor who I pegged as a piece of slime from the moment I saw him? Ugh!"
There was nothing, even on a good day, to see but forest. Nothing but trees as far as the eye could see. Toma could scream and nobody would even hear them. Another heavy sigh.
Carefully they slipped off of the windowsill and back into the tower. The cobblestone around the window was now wet and cold. Toma turned back towards the storm. The rain had lightened up somewhat but still showed no signs of stopping.
Taking the deepest breath, they were capable of, Toma yelled. All their rage and despair packed into the space between their lungs was expelled into the evening sky. Again and again, they screamed until their voice finally grew hoarse.
Nothing out there stirred. Why would it?
At least it felt good to scream. Even if it was only just by a small margin.
Toma left the curtains open as they went downstairs to the cellar stores to fetch ingredients for dinner. They mumble lines of an old rhyme to themselves for companionship.
Stew was good on a night like tonight, and even dried meat eventually came back to life given enough time. Toma narrated every ingredient and preparation going forward just to keep their mind busy. It did help.
They lay down afterwards with a book on woodworking. It was unlikely they would ever make use of the knowledge within, but what choice did they have? A book was a book. They had cleared so many of what was left to them already.
It was impossible to tell the time of day outside. Toma noted the tally marks above the hearth made with chalk, reminding them again that tonight the curse would flare-up. Best enjoy what time they had before it was time.
It's incredible the kind of resilience the human mind has. Toma had gotten it down almost to a science. Every 7 days during the night is when the hands would come alive. They found that when they set time out to prepare themselves and treated the moment as something more routine (like the common cold), it lessened the impact.
Preparing meant it hurt less. When it hurt less it was easier to just lay there and take it. If Toma could just lay there and let the hands do their thing, it would eventually be over. They always worked for a period of time, so it was just a matter of waiting it out. On very rare occasions Toma could sometimes sleep through it. Other times, the only thing that kept them sane was counting the time until it was over.
Make no mistake though, despite their surface level aloofness to the weekly sexual assault of their body, inside they were anything but passive. Inside the confines of their mind, they swore and rattled off a thousand painful curses at their assailant, the person who cursed them. It was a burning hatred capable of incinerating an entire kingdom. They swore if they ever saw that man again, they would surely kill him, with their bare hands if need be.
Spite was a mighty motivator. This was how Toma managed to keep their sanity despite bearing with the curse for so long in solitude. Spite and tunnel vision.
This is how, despite their large size barely silhouetted in the window, Toma did not see the creature as it snuck into their tower that night.
Toma's body squirms uselessly trying to escape the feeling of overstimulation when they catch the shadow hunkered into a corner. They stare at the figure, not out of fear but curiosity. The dim light does them no favor, especially without their glasses. Toma retrieves them making sure to keep their eyes on the shape so that it does not escape them. They prop themselves up on an elbow.
They can't tell if the figure is shuffling in an attempt to get closer. Toma speaks out, their voice sounding more tired than they anticipated. "No need to be afraid of me. Can I see you?" Would the creature even understand the common tongue? Do they know what Toma is saying?
After a while the shadow does get closer and Toma can really grasp the size of the beast. Large in stature with big arms almost dragging their body across the floor. They keep their body lower to the ground in a deliberate attempt to look smaller.
When they enter the candlelight, Toma can see the first peek of their body. The first thing they notice is the large muzzle covered in bright orange scales that shimmer faintly in the light, two slits for nostrils sit on top, and sharp little teeth poke out beneath. A clawed hand carefully grasps the corner of the bed. They are almost human in shape, covered in scales, and each digit ends in a thick powerful nail. At last, the remainder of their head comes into view when it's laid delicately on the bed. Their toothy maw continues up their face almost ending almost where their eyes sit. The creature has beautiful brown eyes surrounding a large, dilated pupil, it reflects the light back at them and they seem to shine.
The creature only seems to watch them in what Toma wonders is curiosity. It could very well be hunger too, Toma would not care either way. In fact, they would welcome death at the hands of this creature.
Suddenly Toma whines at the reminder of the hands again, their poking and squeezing bringing them back into the time before the creature. Toma's groan transitions into a laugh, "You wouldn't happen to be here to eat me, would you?"
The creature makes no attempt to respond to their question and instead continues to stare.
Toma laughs again, dry and humorous. "Of course not." They lean back down in bed. That kind of fate would be too quick for them. They sigh into the sheets and close their eyes trying to get back to that state of blocking out the curse.
They feel the weight of the creature shifting on the edge of the bed. Opening an eye reveals it has gotten closer.
"I'm sorry I can't be a better host at the moment. I'm a bit occupied." Their entire body winces when those stupid hands touch something far too over sensitive and deep inside of them. Just gotta let them do their thing, after that 6 more days of peace and restful sleep.
The creature lays more of their weight onto the bed which dips in acceptance. Their body appears to be serpentine. More scales, but the ones on their belly appear to be duller in color. The creature is nearly close enough to touch.
Toma reaches out a hand. The creature makes contact; cold scales touch warm flesh. In this moment, it feels like a strange connection has formed between them, something unspoken. That is before the hands touch something again and cause Toma to recoil, doubling over in pleasure turned painful.
All at once the creature snaps at one of the curse hands on Toma's body as if understanding they are the source of Toma's discomfort. In a hive mind mentality, another hand digs its blunt nails painfully into Toma's flesh. Toma screams. The creature immediately drops the hand, and lays its muzzle back down on the bed. The hand stops, its defense deemed successful.
Toma breathes hard before looking at the creature through eyes dewy with tears. It looks like a dog who's been scolded, unable to properly understand the consequences of their actions. "It’s alright, you didn't know. I didn't know either at first." They lift their glasses up and rub their eyes hoping to rub the pain from their expression too. "They did a lot of experiments at first to remove them. We quickly realized any pain inflicted upon them eventually gets transferred to me. Nobody felt like testing just how far the connection went though. So even I don't know if I would die from having them manually removed."
The creature hasn't moved an inch from where they laid down but Toma can tell their gaze is upon them. They know they're likely humanizing the expression but it's still a comforting thought to think it feels remorse.
Toma lays a shaky hand on top of their snout, and the creature seems to nose into the touch. "It's just how these things go. Nothing to do now but to accept it and weather the storm." Their words come with a labored breath.
They stroke the smooth scales along the creature's face. It seems to be something soothing to both of them as the creature makes a sort of low rumbling noise at the touch. If anything, it gives Toma something new to focus on. They focus on the different sizes and shapes of the scales from one part of the face to the other. The creature even lets them feel along the ridges of their mouth and touch the very teeth that bit into their cursed form. As long as Toma's hand is near its mouth, it stays very still.
They linger at the jawline, noting the curve of it. It's not so dissimilar to their own face. The scales along the neck and back seem to become larger. The more they touch the closer the creature gets until eventually its form takes up a large portion of the bed.
Laying on their side, Toma watches the creature's chest expand and contract with every slow breath. Its eyes are closed. After months of solitude, Toma is grateful for the company as strange as it may be.
Toma is still caught up in petting the creature that they continue even after the hands have stopped. When they are still at last, the creature opens a single eye. They both look at each other before it closes it again, making no effort to move.
It takes up so much of the bed that Toma decides to lay their body against it. They are exhausted. Another night down. This one, they decided, was not so bad. They still have no idea why the monster is here but for the time being, they do not care.
"Thank you," Toma whispers. "For being here."