Loveless: Day 10

Word Count: 60,008

Summary of Events: 

Thérèse thought about how she should forgive Le Démon, but was worried about what he might still do. After a trying game of charades Le Démon finally got through to Thérèse that he wanted her to read about Château Montegnard in hopes of hearing his name, which he didn't. Thérèse then summoned an enchantress to learn more about Le Démon; most of it was actually encouraging, but she didn't learn as much as she'd hoped. Henri was visited by the same enchantress at Thérèse's request and was relieved to hear she was alive and well, but upset that she wouldn't be coming home and he couldn't go visit her. Le Démon sat in the main bedchamber, dejected about the fact that he couldn't remember his name . . .

Excerpt of the Day:

"In his fury and rage he'd destroyed any evidence that may've been in the castle as to what his name was, and now he was left nameless. He had no idea who he was. He knew he had a name that wasn't the one she'd called him a few times, but he'd forgotten it.

It seemed utterly inconceivable to him that he would forget his own name, even though he hadn't been addressed by it for so long. He would've thought that he would've been able to remember Maman or Père speaking it; even the upset exclamations of his younger siblings when they'd been upset with him.

They'd always been upset with him. His little brother because he didn't want to play or because he would win at things, his sisters because he would always deride them for their appearance or mock them for the fuss that they made.

But he couldn't remember it. He could see their mouths forming it, but he couldn't hear them say it. He couldn't even remember what letter it started with. He didn't remember it at all.

He'd gone through the entire chamber and found nothing at all, any evidence that had been in the room was gone. He'd destroyed it all in the torment and rage he'd felt when he'd first come here, and now he wished he wouldn't have.

Silently he rose of of his nest and made his way back down to the main floor and the into the warmth of the bureau. Dropping down in front of the fire, he sighed. He had no idea where else to look. He had a feeling that there might be more evidence elsewhere in the castle, but he had no idea where to look.

After awhile a hand gently touched his neck and he didn't protest. There was a soothingness in her touch, even of she wasn't Maman, and he didn't think it was because of Maman's dress — as much as Maman's dress almost seemed to have had an effect on her otherwise.

There was something about her touch, and it'd been there since the first time she'd stroked him, some sort of gentle caring, almost a maternal quality, as she ran her hand over his coat, always gently working her way through the tangles, never stroking the wrong way.

As she stroked his neck he closed his eyes and shifted his head into a more comfortable position. Slowly her hand neared his ear and she massaged gently around it before he felt her fingers playing softly over his forehead, his snout, his upper lips, his chin, and his throat.

"I forgive you," she whispered. "For taking me away from home, and everything else that you've done to me. And I thank you for saving my life from the wolves."

He opened his eyes and looked at her skirts folded near him. He didn't know what to think, or even really what to feel. He'd just been told he was forgiven by her for all the things he'd done to her."

Pronunciation:

Père: pehr'