Work Text:
Mister Lily had never been a king. Although he owned a manor house with Briar, he had to be content with the title of the lesser nobility and being calles "Sir" all his life. And yet he was lord of a realm, lord of secret treasures. A silent realm of letters and drawings. Treasures of paper and parchment, bound in leather and linen. A realm of forbidden poisons.
The illustrious company that regularly entered his palace, passing the walls and battlements of bookshelves, sought to learn about the pleasures from him during their audience. From Greek and French, from same-sex, whether man or woman, from tribadism and sodomy, also onanism of course, from anilingus, cunnilingus and fellatio, from fetish and sadomasochism, in short, from everything lustful that the art of the writer and the art of the painter had to offer.
Christopher Lily was considered the king of collectors in his field. None of his guests and friends had ever seen a larger library of pornography than his. God knows, Scotland Yard would have needed many carriages to confiscate his treasures. But nobody ever got on Mr. Lily's trail. He loved his books too much to be careless. And he had no idea that his lack of care in loving the people in his life would be his doom.
Inhale deeply. Exhale deeply. Anger and hatred still burn in Maud's chest as she puts the kitchen knife back in the bag. The pale moonlight only vaguely reveals the trail of destruction she has created. But what it does reveal is enough for her satisfaction. Sheets of paper are scattered wildly on the floor. Leather and linen bindings are cut and torn. The naked bodies of oil paint and words are torn to shreds, no longer making sense.
Ten years. She had been her uncle's writing slave for ten years. Ever since he had taken her in as a ten-year-old orphan, he had forced her day after day to archive his perverse treasures for his encyclopedia and to hold readings for his slobbering audience. There, behind the drawing of the finger that was set into the ground and separated the library from the righteous world. Not even the servants were willing to believe her when she told them about the depraved treasures it held.
But this night smells of freedom! Maud feels as if she has cut her chains! Finally! She would leave this place, never to return. Down by the river, her maid and her partner in this conspiracy were already waiting for her. What would happen to the Lord of Briar? Who cares!
The morning is as gloomy as every other day in this accursed year in the 1870s when Mr. Lily wakes up, gets up and has a royal breakfast served by the servants. He still has no idea what has happened to Maud and his empire when the niece does not show up at the breakfast table. She often goes for morning walks. As long as his little secretary is at his disposal at eight o'clock sharp, he doesn't care.
It is only when he walks down the hallway to the library and finds the door slightly ajar instead of locked that a sense of foreboding overcomes him. Frowning, he pushes the door open. It opens with a creak and reveals his realm. His devastated realm.
Breathless. Racing heart. His eyes refuse to see. He wants to scream, but his voice fails him. As if in a trance, as if in a nightmare, Christopher Lily looks around, unable to comprehend what he sees. His treasures, his books! His kingdom! Everything he ever loved! Destroyed! Ruined! His castle of shelves and cupboards sanded down. Close to tears, Mister Lily wants to lift one of his maltreated books with the drawing of an erect penis out of the dust. But he doesn't get the chance. The merciless reality is too much for his heart.
With the last beat, Mister Lily collapses. The uncrowned king in the ruins of his palace of desires. And somewhere, somewhere in the distance, a young woman laughs and breathes the scent of freedom.