Chapter Text
Octavia couldn't shake the image of the poor man and the way he was being treated.
"Father lied to me." Octavia thought bitterly. "That wasn't a horse I saw that night; it was a man. But why would he keep a man locked up and treat him like a wild animal? It's not like him to do something so horrific."
She felt a strong urge to confront him, to uncover the truth behind the unsettling secret. Perhaps it was all a misunderstanding, and her father was not capable of such cruelty. Yet, she feared that if he discovered she had ventured into the stables against his orders, she might never leave the mansion again. He could confine her to the house until she was of marriageable age or, worse, send her off to a strict boarding school.
After hours of wrestling with her thoughts, she tried to convince herself that her father must have had a good reason for keeping a man in the stables. It would be wiser to act as if she had seen nothing. However, the disturbance lingered in her mind, evident on her face. Until she could mask her feelings, she did everything possible to avoid her father's watchful gaze. Fortunately, he seemed too preoccupied with his secretive work alongside Benedict to notice her distress.
The Goetia estate was eerily quiet. Stolas often left to meet with Benedict, leaving Octavia to spend her days in her room, using books and her pets to distract herself. One day, when her puppies grew restless, she decided to let them outside to run and play, careful to keep them away from the stables. It was meant to be a quick romp in the garden before returning indoors.
As Octavia opened the door to the garden, sunlight poured in, illuminating the vibrant flowers and lush greenery surrounding the estate. Her pups bounded out, tails wagging with excitement, and for a brief moment, she felt a sense of peace watching them frolic in the grass. Yet, the unease nagged at her, a constant reminder of the secret lurking within the stables.
She paced the garden's perimeter, her thoughts drifting back to the man she had glimpsed in the shadows. The image haunted her: his wild hair, scarred face, and the desperate look in his eyes. What had he done to deserve such a fate? What kind of man was her father to imprison him like an animal?
Octavia forced herself to focus on her puppies, tossing a ball for them to chase. Their joy was infectious, but as she bent down to pet one of them, a noise from the stables caught her attention—a faint rustling, as if something was shifting within. Her heart raced, and she glanced back toward the mansion, half-expecting to see her father's silhouette watching her from a window.
"Just the wind." She whispered to herself, though doubt crept in. She tried to shake it off and returned to playing with her dogs, but the sound continued to tug at her thoughts.
Then, unexpectedly, she heard music. It was a melody she recognized—the kind she played on her flute. It dawned on her that she had left it in the stables by accident.
A wave of anxiety washed over Octavia as the realization struck her. The music floated through the air, a haunting melody that seemed to beckon her closer. She glanced at her puppies, who were now distracted by a butterfly flitting around the daisies, blissfully unaware of the turmoil stirring in their owner's heart.
With a deep breath, Octavia made a decision. The desire to retrieve her flute—a cherished instrument that allowed her to express herself—overpowered her fear of her father's wrath. It was a part of her, a connection to her creativity, and she couldn't leave it in that dark place any longer.
Steeling herself, she moved toward the stables, her heart pounding like a drum in her chest. As she approached, the unmistakable sound of music grew louder, intertwining with the rustle of hay and the soft whinnies of the horses. She paused for a moment, caught between the instinct to flee and the pull of curiosity urging her forward.
"Just a quick look." She muttered, her resolve strengthening. "I'll be in and out before anyone notices."
Pushing open the heavy wooden door, she stepped inside the dimly lit stable. The air was thick with the scent of hay and something else—something that made her stomach churn. As she navigated through the stalls, the music seemed to guide her, leading her deeper into the shadows.
Then she saw it: her flute, cradled in the hands of the strange man who was playing it with remarkable skill.
A mix of shock and awe coursed through Octavia as she realized the man was not only holding her flute but playing it with a mastery that took her breath away. The music flowed effortlessly from his fingers, filling the stable with a melody that resonated with her very soul. It was a tune she had never heard before—beautiful, fantastical, yet tinged with sadness.
"You can play?" She asked.
He stopped playing, the last note hanging in the air like a lingering echo. He flinched and scuttled into a corner upon realizing she was there, but quickly calmed himself when he saw it was only Octavia.
"Sorry." She said, her voice softening. "I didn't mean to intrude. I heard the music and was curious. Also, that flute happens to be mine."
He looked at her, confusion etched on his face, as if he didn't understand her words.
"I know you can talk." She continued, her heart racing. "Why don't you?"
He opened his mouth slowly, struggling to form the words.
"Go... Go... Away," He stammered. "Go away!... Want... To be... Alone."
"Why are you talking like that?"
"Not...Not...Normal...Can't Spe-spe-speak...Normal."
"But you play my flute so divinely."
Octavia took a cautious step closer, her curiosity overpowering her initial hesitation.
"You play better than I ever could." She said, her voice filled with admiration. "Why do you want to be alone? You have such a gift."
The man's eyes darted around the stable, as if searching for an escape.
"Not... a gift. Just... noise," he replied, his voice trembling. "Not for you... not for anyone."
"Why not?" Octavia pressed gently, intrigued by his struggle to articulate his feelings. "Music should be shared. It connects people."
He shook his head vehemently, his wild hair catching the dim light.
"No... no one... should hear. They will hurt me."
Octavia's heart sank at the thought of this man being harmed for his talent. "Who would hurt you?"
"The man in... green... He... angry... locks me... away... beats me."
"But why? You don't deserve to be treated like this." Octavia's voice was steady, filled with determination. "You shouldn't be imprisoned here. You're not an animal; you're a person."
The man seemed to soften at her words, though doubt still lingered in his expression.
"Not... a person... not like you. Not normal."
"How do you mean?" She asked, leaning in closer.
"Not... natural... a mistake. I... am...She is...Not. She... is... beautiful... perfect... She ran... He blame...me."
Now it was Octavia's turn to look at him like she didn't understand a word of what he said. Language issues aside though, he seemed harmless. What could he have done to warrant this kind of treatment?
"But you...Are...Not...Like them...You help me....Thank...You."
He pointed to the scars on his neck, remnants of the chain that had once held him captive. Her gaze traced the jagged lines, following them from his neck down to his painfully thin midsection, where she could see the outline of his ribcage.
"When was the last time you ate?" She asked.
"I don't know... He says... I... eat... when he... says... so." He replied.
Octavia paused, weighing her options. On one hand, he was a stranger—potentially dangerous, especially given her father's warnings. Yet, from her perspective, he didn't appear threatening. But then again, how often did danger wear a friendly face?
Surely, there was no harm in offering him some food though.
"I'll be right back." She said, determination in her voice.
She slipped quietly into the kitchen, searching for something substantial to give him. A few carrots and greens sat in the pantry, but that wouldn't suffice. Given his emaciated frame, he needed something hearty, packed with protein and carbohydrates. Just then, a tantalizing aroma wafted through the air, leading her to the cook, who was pulling a fresh batch of meat pies from the oven. The savory scent of seasoned beef and rich gravy enveloped her, encased in a flaky, buttery crust—one of Octavia's favorites.
"Perfect." She thought, her heart racing.
As the cook turned his back, she swiftly grabbed a thick cloth and snatched a pie from the tray. With the pie and a few vegetables in hand, she hurried back to the stables.
The man's eyes widened with surprise as she approached, holding out the food to him.
"I brought you something to eat." Octavia said gently, offering him the pie. "I hope this helps. Just be careful; it's still hot."
He hesitated, eyeing the food with a mix of wariness and anticipation before tentatively reaching out to take it from her. With a ravenous hunger, he tore into the pie, devouring it with a speed that startled Octavia. She watched in amazement as he ate, his eyes closed in bliss, savoring each bite as if it were his last meal.
Thinking he might want something to wash down the pie, she walked over to a nearby well and filled a bucket with fresh water.
"Here's something to drink, along with some carrots and greens if you're still hungry."
He practically swallowed the vegetables in one gulp before chugging the water. Octavia was surprised he didn't choke.
"Take it easy." She cautioned him. "I know you're hungry, but don't forget to chew... and breathe."
He let out a loud burp, causing Octavia to scrunch her face in disgust.
"Oh good God! Your breath! It smells like a dead animal!" She exclaimed, gagging slightly. "Next time, I'm bringing you some mint leaves to chew on! No, scratch that, mint leaves won't be enough to overpower that stench! You need to suck on a lemon!"
The man paid no heed to her complaints, continuing to savor his meal.
"Thank... You... Good food... What is this...?" he asked, his mouth full.
"It's called a meat pie. My father, mother, and I love to have them for lunch. It's one of the few things we all agree on. That's probably why the cook made them, because Mother is coming to visit."
"Mo...ther?" He inquired, confusion etched on his face. "What's mother?"
Octavia was taken aback. He didn't know what a mother was?
"You know, a mother. A woman who loves you and takes care of you. Basically a female version of your father."
"What's father?"
"You don't know what a father is either? Don't you have a father and a mother?"
He shook his head, his expression a mix of confusion and curiosity.
"No... No father...No mother. Just...Him."
"You mean you don't have a family?"
"What's family?"
Octavia's heart ached for him as she grasped the depth of his isolation and loneliness.
"No parents? No family? Do you even have a name?"
"No name."
"So, what do people call you?"
"It... Thing... Creature... Freak... Monster."
"Wow, that's really sad. You deserve a name, and lucky for you, I happen to have a book of names. I'll come by tomorrow, and we can choose one together."
Before the man could protest, she was already gathering her belongings and heading home. He watched her with curiosity, pondering her motives. Why was she being so nice to him? Why didn't she see him as the abomination that everyone else did? And why was she so much smaller than the others. Smaller and more delicate? He knew that females could be more petite than males, but this one seemed to be an extreme case.
"Strange." He muttered. "Very...Strange."
