Demons, Witches, and Toads (BoyxBoy)

Return to the Packwoods

Lord and Lady Packwood were awakened by a heavy pounding at the door. Lady Packwood shot up first, her husband scrambling to rise beside her. The sound came again, louder this time.

"What's going on?" Lord Packwood stammered, his gaze frantic as his wife grabbed for a silken robe hanging off a chair, swiftly pulling it over her shoulders.

"I'm sorry for waking you, my lordship," the voice of a servant called from behind the door, his voice tight with urgency, "but Lady Priscilla and Lord Peter have returned. They're waiting in the foyer as we speak--"

"WHAT!?" Lord Packwood gasped, launching himself off the bed.

The moment his feet hit the ground both husband and wife raced for the door, flinging it open. They rushed past the servant, tearing down the hall. Soon, breathless and frantic, the Packwoods hurtled themselves down the large marble staircase descending into the entrance hall.

And that's where they found them.

The sight before them was a parent's nightmare. Priscilla looked exhausted, her face streaked with dirt, sunken and pale. Sticks poked up from her matted hair, grime turning her blonde curls brown. Her clothes were ripped, the few remaining strips of pink from her tattered skirt plastered with mud.

Despite their daughter's haggard appearance, however, Peter looked far worse. His face was hollow with a sickly sheen to it, so ashen his veins were visible through his papery skin. Most disturbing of all were the vines tightly bound around his chest and mouth, twisting around his jaw like a muzzle that left only his nose and eyes visible.

Beside him were two others. The white-haired boy's head jerked up as they appeared, causing the attention of the young man at his side to snap to them as well. Wild curls surrounded his head like an explosion, the shadow of a beard creeping up his jaw. Despite his disheveled appearance, his face looked achingly familiar.

The moment Priscilla's gaze locked on her parents, she took off running, flinging herself into their arms just as they reached the bottom of the steps. Lady Packwood winced slightly at the stench but still hugged her daughter tightly, her husband doing the same.

"We were so worried," Lady Packwood choked. "We hadn't heard a word from you in weeks. I was terrified the murderous prince killed you too."

Priscilla blinked. "The murderous prince?"

Her father nodded frantically, pulling her closer. "You haven't heard? The crown prince went mad and slaughtered his own brother in cold blood before fleeing the capital. They've been hunting him for nearly a month, but it's as if he disappeared into thin air. It's all anyone's been talking about. How could you possibly not know?"

Priscilla swallowed hard, her gaze darting away. "We've been, uh...camping out in the forest."

"Dear God, why?" Lady Packwood breathed, her gaze falling to Peter now. "Peter," she called, "why are you just standing there?"

Her son didn't respond, causing Lady Packwood to stride towards him, her husband following close behind. She stared at Peter, realizing with a start how distant his gaze was, as if he couldn't even see her.

"Priscilla?" Lady Packwood asked, a shrill note of anxiety creeping into her voice. "What's wrong with him? Why is he with you and...goodness, darling, what the hell is with these damn vines? Are you two playing some kind of joke? Get them off him this instant!"

Priscilla's mouth tightened into a hard line. "Mother..." she said softly. "I'm so sorry."

"About what, darling?"

"That you have to see him like this."

Priscilla lowered her head, removing her wand. Taking a deep breath she gave it a light flick and murmured a spell. The moment it left her lips, the vines went limp, falling from Peter's mouth.