A Hardening Heart

That night from two weeks ago felt like a nightmare; a horrible, terrible dream that Simon Hart never wished to repeat. That's why he spent so much time checking every nook and cranny of the shop at closing time, a dangerously-sharp hat pin always at the ready. However, even after he made his rounds and finally went upstairs, every noise spooked him. Every creak of the floorboards, every bump coming from outside, every scratch of tree branches on the building put him on high alert.

Which was why he was now clutching his bleeding hand, which he accidentally sliced open with the knife he had been washing. To add insult to injury, the culprit who had caused him to startle was sitting right there on the counter, as if nothing had changed at all.

"D-Damn mouse!"

The tiny rodent watched him innocently as it helped itself to a few, stray crumbs he had failed to wipe up earlier.

"Last time this happened, if you recall, I put you far enough away from the house so that you could easily make your way back into the wild. And this is how you repay me? By coming back and scaring the life out of me? Have you no manners?"

The tiny beast squeaked at him happily, making Simon shake his head as he pressed a clean, kitchen cloth to the wound, trying to stop the bleeding.

"You don't seem to want to leave. Maybe I should keep you around, after all. It's not as if I could bare to kill a helpless field mouse. And maybe you could scare off prowlers. Strike fear into their hearts and all that."

The mouse twitched its ears, cocking its head from side to side, as if trying to understand what this human was going on about.

"Perhaps you would like that job," Simon said, snorting with amusement, "Come to think of it, there are at least a few men I know that would probably cower in terror at the mere sight of you. Although, I shudder to think what would happen if any of my guests saw you."

Simon sighed and shook his head, as he started wrapping the cut.

"Not that there's been many of those to speak of as of late."

It seemed that the deeply offended Lord Price had made good on his promise. The thongs of customers just weren't there, anymore. The nobleman had wielded his power and influence against the tailor, turning the Ode to Maria, a once up and coming shop, into a ghost town. Not even putting an advert in the local paper promising great deals, superb products and a ten percent discount to every new customer had worked. Simon sat down on his chair, head in his hands. Was this it? Was this where he lost everything? Just then, there was a rapid knock at the front door. He raised an eyebrow, before rising from his seat.

"Now, who could that be?"

The tailor opened it, hoping against hope, that it was a customer. What he found, instead, made him want to slam the door and forget everything that lay just beyond it. But, he didn't. He had already upset the noble class. There was no point in upsetting the king, too, by refusing his messengers.

Just like the first time, the two royal guards stepped aside, allowing the short, stout man to come forward, unrolling the parchment in his hand with much fanfare. Sadly, Simon wasn't amazed anymore. He just wish to get this over with, considering their appearance to be the arrival of yet more bad news in his life.

"In the name of our royal highness, King Bennett the third, you, Simon Hart, are to report to-"

"Yes, yes, to the castle. What time?"

The smaller man grimaced, before sniffing in reproach.

"In no less than an hour," the crier deadpanned in his normal voice, "And bring your tool kit. That is the reason you are being summoned to the castle."

A squeak at their heels caused the men to look down to find the mouse from earlier sitting by Simon's ankles, watching the proceedings like he had also been summoned, personally. The announcer yelped, taking a step back and wrinkling his noise with disgust.

"Like there would be any other reason to invite rabble such as yourself to a place as prestigious as the castle."

Simon bit his tongue at the insult, his hands clenched into fists at his side in barely restrained fury as the procession marched out of sight. The tailor grit is teeth, as he thought of who the invite had really come from.

"I never wanted to see him again. I thought I made that quite clear from our last meeting. I want nothing to do with Alabaster Stone."

Still, this was an invitation from the castle. It may not have come directly from King Bennett, but it had been sent in his name. He could refuse the summons, of course. But, if he did, the consequences would be dire.

Simon could see it all now. In the newspaper he loved to read every morning would be printed an article about a foolish tailor who had been executed in the city square after refusing an invitation from the king. His head would be separated from his body by the axe of a big, burly, hooded executioner. The tailor swallowed hard in mounting fear. Yes, there were far worse things than having to see that accursed vampire again, weren't there? It was better to count his blessings, than trifle over minuet inconveniences.

"Yes, there is no question. I must go. This situation is literally a matter of life or death. With any luck, this will be the last time."

Simon glanced down at the cute, little rodent who had put his two tiny paws up onto his shoes.

"Would you like to come, too?"

And that's when the creature ran off into the streets to live its best life. Simon watched it for a few moments, until it disappeared under a horse carriage across the way, before sighing.

"I thought not."

A piece of him really wished to go with his furry, little friend. To escape! To go anywhere, but to the castle. But, on the other hand, he could charge the vampire noble handsomely for his time. Not to mention, that there really wasn't any other business coming in right now. Beggars couldn't be choosers, could they?

With that thought in mind, Simon Hart gathered his sewing kit and put on his best clothes, hoping that no one noticed that he hadn't had time to starch his collar, before making the journey across town to the castle. He paused, taking a better look at it this time, instead of just rushing in. The stone representation of wealth and power seemed to stretch on forever. It was such an enormous complex for just one man. A man who hadn't even picked a Queen or had children yet.

It seemed very ostentatious and unnecessary, but who was he to question royalty? Come to think of it, who was he to tell his betters how to live? And that's when he realized that he had forgotten the golden rule; he who had the gold made the rules. And in forgetting that rule, he had also forgotten his place.

He was a servant to those who would pay him and nothing more; a rentable amenity. A tailor who could be praised today and forgotten tomorrow if he wasn't pliable enough to the whims of the wealthier who lived in his society. He needed to keep in mind exactly where he came from. He needed to remember his place at all times.

With that mentality in mind, he marched into the castle, before being lead straight to the room the vampire was staying in. Said residential suite hosted lavish sofas, prismatic chandeliers and a beautiful, four poster bed. But, nothing in this glamorous environment held a candle to the occupant of it. Alabaster turned from the window with a smile, the light from the sun causing his snow-white hair and crystal blue eyes to shimmer like diamonds.

The tailor's breath caught in his throat. This man was beautiful. He had always been beautiful to Simon. Not only that, but he was also a joy to be around; a lovely heart that matched a lovely exterior. However, associating with him had only caused pain. If he continued to do so, what other horrors would he be dropped smack dab in the middle of? He would rather not find out.

'Come on now, man,' he thought trying to steel himself, 'Be strong.'

"Simon, I-"

"I was summoned here because I was lead to believe that you needed some alterations. Where is the suit?"

The vampire's face fell.

"Oh. Alright. I'll.. I'll go get it on."

Alabaster had used the summons as a means to get the tailor here, just like last time. But, unlike then, Simon wasn't going to play his game. He would get in, fix whatever qualms the vampire could come up with concerning the outfit and get out. Get out, while he still could. Before something even worse than slowly losing his livelihood happened to him. Like losing his mind! Or perhaps even, his heart.