The Inner Beast

Cloella woke to the sound of heavy footsteps coming up the stairs. She’d barely noticed that the Hessian had climbed out of bed earlier, wrapped her in a blanket and given her a soft kiss before dressing and then walking out of the room. She was surprised that she did not feel the usual wave of nausea when she sat up, but she was very glad. The Hessian was home, and he was so happy to hear the news of the baby, she had hoped morning sickness would not ruin any of these next few days.

The footsteps that were coming up the hall stopped as Cloella put on her shift and then stooped to gather her soft leather parlor shoes, going to greet the Hessian, but when she looked up, there he stood in the doorway of the room. She smiled at him, but thought it a bit odd that he was in full battle regalia, and that he also wore his sword belt and rapier. Where had he been? Was there another skirmish taking place so close to her house, again?

“You have been to the war and back again so early this morning?” Cloella asked, beginning to fear that he was only returning to say a ‘goodbye’ to her, that his services were unexpectedly needed.

The Hessian smiled, sensing that the girl was concerned. “So to speak, ja. There was something I had to collect, but I am back with it now.”

“What is it?” Cloella could tell from the way he smiled that he was not planning on leaving her, and also that he was in an extremely good mood. She sighed in relief, but still wondered why he’d left dressed for battle. He did not seem to have been fighting, for he was not very dirty or sweaty, and he did not smell too strongly of gunpowder.

“Nein, you have not even said ‘guten morgen’ to me yet.” The Hessian smirked, feigning hurt feelings as he leaned in the doorway with his strong arms crossed over his broad chest.

Cloella sighed and rolled her eyes, but she smiled, walking over to him and hugging him tightly, smiling more when he embraced her in a bear hug. She loved him, and how big and strong he was. “I’m so very sorry, then. Good morning, and please forgive me.” She laughed, looking up at her Hessian.

The Hessian leaned down and kissed her, lifting her off the floor and remembering that he wore his breastplate, and that he should not crush her so hard against it. He groaned as he kissed her, still full of enthusiasm from the announcement she’d made to him the night before. “You are well?” He smiled, setting her back on her feet gently and stroking her hair.

“I am well.” Cloella smiled back, wishing there was not so much metal and mail and leather between them.

“Und the child?” The Hessian asked, pulling off his black glove and pressing his big hand to her belly.

Cloella covered his hand with hers, another smile instantly appearing on her face. “Also well.” She whispered, reaching up to touch the line of his jaw with her other hand.

The Hessian leaned down and kissed her again, wishing he had not left the ‘something’ he’d gone to collect waiting outside, for he wanted to take the girl back to bed and make love to her again. He didn’t remember ever wanting to be so close to someone as he did now that he knew the girl carried his child. But, there would be plenty of opportunities to make love to the girl, particularly tonight.

The Hessian straightened again, but held her face in his hands, looking into her eyes and smiling. “You are so very beautiful.” He said softly, his smile broadening when the girl blushed and tried to look away from him. There was no other soul like her in the world, and because of that, she made him want things he’d never before considered himself eligible to have. “I want to ask you something.” His hands sank down her neck to her shoulders, as his knees began to bend and he slowly got down on one knee before her, holding both her tiny hands in his.

“Hessian?” Cloella questioned, very confused by what he was doing, and by the look in his eyes, for he seemed more vulnerable than she’d ever known him to be. Was something wrong? Was he leaving her after all?

The Hessian again smiled at how unassuming the girl was, and he kissed both her hands, looking up at her again, still eye level with her chest even though he was down on one knee. He’d always loved the girl’s innocence, she suspected nothing, and he loved surprising her. He sighed, for just a moment pondering why she’d ever fallen in love with him, and wondering how he’d managed to become so attached to anyone, or anything, which did not have four hooves and a tail. “I have never asked anything of you; all that you have ever given to me you have given of your own choice and desire to do so, and for that I was at first grateful, but now I am forever changed by it. I am the bastard son of warped and wicked monster of a man, and in my forty and two years I have made a mess of many things, and people, and I have committed enough sins for you, me and one hundred thousand other men, and because of that I have no right to ever ask anything of anyone, yet I find myself doing so presently.” The Hessian paused, drew in a deep steadying breath, looking up into the girl’s eyes as she looked down into his with concern mounting in her face. He smiled. “What I ask of you, is that you will allow me to be your protector, provider and father to our child, and that you will be my wife.”

Cloella gasped, feeling suddenly dizzy and nearly collapsing, but the Hessian quickly caught her in his arms as she wavered forward, bracing herself against his broad shoulders with her hands. She’d been engaged to Ilke Van Princ, but she had not loved him, and so Cloella had since that time told herself that love would come after marriage, if she just tried hard enough to create it. However, she did love the Hessian, and he loved her, and Cloella had given up completely her hopes of ever being married when Ilke died, followed by her parents, let alone held up hopes of marrying a man she did love. She was shocked, was this really happening? Had she really been proposed to? And by the Hessian? Her Hessian? The one everyone called the “Black Devil”? Yes! She had been! Her dizziness soon left her and Cloella couldn’t help the outburst of laughter that suddenly came from her, for she was so ecstatic, like a little girl, almost. She wrapped her arms around her Hessian’s neck, hugging him against her full bosom and kissing his wild black hair. “Your wife?” She said happily, and then exuberant tears began to fall.

The Hessian smiled, reaching up and wiping away the tears that rolled down her cheeks with a sigh. He was touched with her reaction, though he had expected nothing less than this, and though she had not yet answered him. “I would not have asked if I had known it would make you cry.” He smirked. “Yet at the risk of causing tears to flood this room, do you take me as your husband? Will you marry me?”

Cloella beamed, giggled and stroked his hair. “Oh Hessian! Yes! I will marry you, Hessian!” She almost shouted out; then fell into his strong arms as they both laughed and kissed and embraced, Cloella again wishing the breastplate did not keep her from being able to feel his beating heart against hers. His pulse raced in the veins in his thick neck, though, and she kissed them. They pulled apart to look at each other’s happy expressions, the Hessian holding her by her shoulders and smiling contently, his sharp teeth no longer something Cloella even noticed. But the sight of them did suddenly make something occur to her. She was now engaged, and her bridegroom was the Hessian beast, the “Black Devil” whom everyone hated and feared. Her greatest love was also the greatest secret she’d kept in all her life. How were they ever to find the proper authority to marry them? “But, how?” She blurted out, her thoughts overtaking her mouth, and then flooding her with images of what she was to wear, and what sort of preparations she should make.

“How?” The Hessian repeated, for he wasn’t sure what she was asking. He and the girl had never discussed religion, but she could not have thought him Jewish, or of some bizarre faith, could she? “A wedding.” He answered simply, again taking both her hands in his.

Cloella giggled, knowing the Hessian was an intelligent man, but perhaps such an undemanding question had been too much for him to comprehend, just as the words “I am with child” were. “I know that,” she smiled. “But who shall conduct our wedding? We cannot be properly married just because we say we are. This is not something we can adequately do on our own.” This would certainly not be a large wedding, but still, she would like to at least have a new dress for it; perhaps if she started sewing today, piecing together her most favorite allures of all of her other dresses, she would have something she could proudly call her wedding dress, even if it may have a bit of a patchwork look to it. This was her wedding, she wanted some sort of glamour, and she did not have enough time to sew a whole new gown, for the baby would soon be known in her figure. She would have to have her dress completed in the next two months.

“Ahh,” the Hessian smirked as he stood again, putting his arm around her and walking her towards the window. “I have already taken care of that.” He smiled, and then pointed out the window to where Daredevil stood in the misty rain, under full tack. With the great black horse stood a portly figure wearing a long brown robe that was secured at the waist with a white cord, the hood of the roomy garment was pulled over his head, veiling his face. His hands were tied together at his wrists; the rest of the rope, that bound his hands in front of him, was tied to the Hessian’s saddle.

Cloella gasped and backed away from the window, crossing her hands over her heart in alarm. So this is where he’d been this morning? She now knew why he was dressed for battle. “Oh Hessian, no!” She groaned, not horrified, for nothing he did quite surprised her anymore, but this was a bit extreme. “Tell me you have not taken a holy brother as your hostage.” She begged, shaking her head in resigned disbelief. “You cannot make prisoners of monks.” She sighed, but she knew she was saying it more for herself than to try to teach the Hessian some sense of right and wrong on this matter. What of her wedding dress? The one she had planned to make from all of her other dresses; the overskirt from her burgundy winter ballgown, the bishop’s sleeves from her violet velvet Tea Gown, and the white lace bodice from the dress she wore when her father had formally introduced to her to Sleepy Hollow’s tiny society. When the Hessian had asked her to marry him, she had not thought he meant within the next few minutes.

The Hessian laughed, perhaps this was not the delicious reaction of rolling her eyes and sighing and then calling him some sort of name that meant abomination and egoism that he enjoyed so much, but this was still amusing. “I think perhaps you are mistaken on the notion of taking monks as prisoners, for I have done so!” He smiled, stepping away from the window and looking towards the girl again, knowing he must win back her cheery spirit. She was not truly angry with him, he knew, she was just a bit overtaken by his actions, yet there was much about Father Angelos the girl did not know. The Hessian sighed and took her hand again, once more dropping to one knee before her. “Oh come now, brides are supposed to smile and be blushing and joyful.” He simpered.

“But,” Cloella began, hardly able to find the words that accurately described the horrible deed that now had to be done concerning the poor Brother outside, in the rain, with his hands tied together. “You are going to…to…because you brought him here, and if he sees that you come here, because of me, and that you have married me, then the secret will be out, and you will be ambushed! You cannot tell me that you do not mean to…to…silence…that man after he performs this ceremony.” She could not be as happy as she was before when she now knew someone must die, and at the Hessian’s hand. Yes, he’d killed more men, more times than she even wanted to think about, it was his business, but really, on their wedding day?

The Hessian sighed again. Yes, he’d loved the girl for her innocence and her pure heart, but there were some things he wished she could understand and let go of. He’d known of Father Angelos’s crooked and deviant ways shortly after coming to the colonies, and while the devious part of the Hessian had admired him, it was the foul deeds the monk perpetrated that had been what made the Hessian decide to collect him and drag him here to perform the marriage. The Hessian knew very well that whoever had seen him here, at the girl’s home, must die, and Father Angelos had been a chancre on the world’s ass for too long already anyway.

The Hessian knew how adamantly and how upset, and turned off, the girl would have been if he’d grabbed any innocent priest, forced him to come here and marry them, and then taken him off, deep into the woods, and chopped off his holy head. But Father Angelos was not innocent, nor was he even all that ‘holy’. The Hessian would be doing the church, and the world, a service in removing the scheming priest from both of them. The Hessian had at least hoped that the girl would understand when he told her of Father Angelos’s ‘work’. And yet, even if the girl was still put off, at least it had been stupendous fun, riding down on the army camp Angelos followed, rooting him out, and dragging him through the mud by the rope that bound him while the Continental soldiers did nothing but stand and watch, calling out “We always knew the Devil would have you, Angelos!”

The Hessian grinned even now as he thought about the morning’s events, but he tried to downplay his hilarity when he looked at the girl. “Tell me, do you know the price of absolution?” He asked, hoping this story would convince her, and lighten the guilt she felt.

“Price?” Cloella asked. The Hessian may have been a paid killer, but he was not now trying to buy her love, was he? Or was he now trying to buy forgiveness from God for what he would later do to the holy Brother he’d captured? “Such a thing has no price!”

“I agree with you, but to the man out there in Friar’s garb, it does.” Said the Hessian, his tone becoming serious. “He is a criminal, who happens to have the authority of the church. We need that authority, as you have said, but does the world need a criminal?”

“Oh, Hessian!” Cloella sighed again, crossing her arms over her chest. “I cannot judge who should live and who should…not live!” She looked away from him.

“Then you are very fortunate to have me in your life, then.” The Hessian couldn’t help smiling, as he reached up and turned her face back to his. “No one will miss him. Father Angelos has taken many a months pay from many a dying soldier, or just any soldier who assumed he was dying. It seems that Father Angelos is always there to remind the wounded of what horrors they’ve committed against their fellow man in this war, and then is happy to suggest that they sign their pay over to him, so that he may give it to his parish, and thereby insure they’re passage into heaven. Last rites come with their own price as well, usually whatever currency he can find in the purses of dead men. I have seen him myself, scouring the field after battle, rifling through the clothing of the dead, guilting the wounded into being willing victims of robbery, but what I have never seen is Father Angelos taking that money to his parish. No one has.” The Hessian was glad to see that the girl was now looking at him of her own accord, and that she no longer crossed her arms over her chest. She may not approve still, but at least she seemed to understand. “Can you not see that I did not randomly select him now?”

Part of her still wished to argue that this was murder, but then, why would that affect the Hessian? He was a mercenary, and assassin. And stealing money from those in turmoil was wrong; there was no way Cloella could excuse that. However, she no longer wanted to discuss it, not any of it. The Hessian would be her husband soon, and she did love him, and he her; the very first thing she could do as his wife would be to support him in this decision, even if she did abhor it and disagree with it. Yet, perhaps Father Angelos was only getting what was coming to him. “I do not wish to speak of this, or hear mention of this, ever again.” She said flatly.

The Hessian fought off his smile, so glad that the girl was not angry, or disgusted by him. “Understood.” He answered, and then snapped his hand to his brow in a crisp salute.

Cloella smiled, liking the way her Hessian saluted her. “I should get dressed, then?”

The Hessian rose to his full towering height looking down at her with a shrug of his massive shoulders. “Unless you mean to marry me in your underpinnings.” He smirked, raising his eyebrow that was broken by a scar as if he liked the idea.


Disclaimer: I Don't own the Hessian, or Daredevil, and don't want money. Just someone, anyone, let me know what you think!

Cloella had told herself that she would not look at the face of the condemned man, for she wanted to enjoy her wedding, and she would not if she let herself see the man the Hessian would soon be executing, even if Father Angelos was such a Machiavellian, immoral sort. Instead she kept her eyes focused on the Hessian as she walked with her hand in his, her hand above his, their palms touching, and she smiled. She was marrying a man out of legend, what girl could want more?

The Hessian said nothing as they walked over the muddy ground, he only looked towards his prisoner, but he knew the girl smiled at him as she walked along, one of her hands laying in his, and the other pulling up the light blue taffeta skirt of the dress she wore as they strode towards Daredevil. The only time the Hessian spoke was when he was with the girl, any other time he only growled, in fact, many assumed him to be mute, and there was a rumor that he’d had his tongue cut out as a child for swearing at a king. The Hessian had always enjoyed such stories about himself, but he was now feeling a bit bemused about how to conduct himself at his wedding. The girl may understand if he said nothing in the presence of an outsider, yet she would want her betrothed to of course say “I do” when the time came.

Father Angelos was doomed, what did it matter if the Hessian spoke in his presence? Who would ever hear of it if the Hessian beast looked at the girl with love in his glowing green eyes? The girl deserved those few things on her wedding day, and he would provide her with them, for this was not the sort of spectacular celebration the girl truly merited to begin with. Besides, the Hessian found himself looking forward to seeing the shock and amazement on the face of Father Angelos when the ‘Black Devil’ uttered perfect English, and then kissed his new wife, who would smile up at him and cling to his powerful body. And then, the Hessian would take the wicked priest off, well beyond the Western Woods, and hack off his head. The Hessian smiled.

The area where Daredevil stood with the monk tethered to his saddle was in a small clearing of birch trees that had always been one of Cloella’s favorite garden spots as a child. The big tall white trees grew in a rough ring shape, and she had at one time had a small rose garden there, but eventually Cloella gave in to the wants of the deer that would devour the rosebuds. The bushes stopped flowering, and so they had died many years ago, leaving nothing but a simple, yet lush carpet of light green grass in the center of the ring of birch trees, that Daredevil had found to be sweet and tender.

The big horse raised his head from the bounty of sweet grass as his master approached, a few blades of pale green still sticking out from his mouth as his black ears pricked towards the Hessian and Cloella. Father Angelos also turned in the direction of the footsteps, and the astonishment of what he saw coming towards him was evident. What did the Hessian Horseman mean with this lovely young woman on his arm? What was this?

The Hessian stopped a few feet in front of Father Angelos, ignoring him, but still smiling at how surprised he had looked. He turned to the girl and kissed her hand. “Discount the ugliness of the entity in front of us and say that you are my betrothed.” He said softly, hoping that the close proximity of the girl to the doomed monk had not made her hesitant to go on with their wedding.

Cloella heard Father Angelos gasp and utter the words “It speaks!” and she saw how the Hessian had sharply turned towards him and scowled, again silencing the man. She smiled herself and looked up at her fiancé. “I am that, and more.”

The Hessian stroked her cheek with his long finger, then turned to Father Angelos, taking a few steps closer to him and grabbing the rope that bound him to the saddle. He pulled some more slack into it, allowing the monk’s hands to separate now, and then twisted the excess of the rope around Angelos’s large waist and across his shoulders, then threading it through the bend of each his elbows and again tying it to the saddle. Father Angelos could move, to hold a bible now, but if he tried to reach forward, or run, the rope would pull tight. The Hessian shoved a bible into his grubby hands.

“There is no absolution to be bought or sold here, Father, but there is the chance for redemption. The young woman wishes to see me wived; make it so.”

Cloella didn’t remember ever hearing the Hessian speak with quite so much distinction as he did then. She giggled a bit, for she knew how he must be enjoying this, as showing the human, intelligent and vibrant part of himself to someone who had no doubt believed every terrible story there existed of him had to be satisfying.

Cloella focused on her tall and strong bridegroom as the startled monk began to read from the bible, tripping over the words in several places, it was obvious he had not opened the book in a long time. It didn’t matter; he was progressing along, for the Hessian’s glower acted like spur in the ruddy-faced fat man’s ample sides. Cloella began to hear the words less and less; she just stared at her Hessian, smiling. He looked so handsome, standing at attention, one of his big hands holding hers gently, and the other resting on the serpent’s head of his rapier, his ice blue eyes focused on the detestable priest. The misty rain had stopped and the sun was beginning to come out, casting faint blue shadows of the pearl white birch trees over the Hessian’s angular features, and making the grassy knoll they stood upon appear to be surrounded with the thick gray buttresses of a cathedral. Cloella’s smile widened. Perhaps she had no wedding dress, and no guests, and no time to make plans, but no one could ever say her wedding lacked elegance.

“Do you…” Father Angelos suddenly stopped, looking towards Cloella, then jumping when the Hessian’s hand moved to draw the rapier, but the monk quickly spoke, not wanting the Hessian Horseman to think he was purposefully delaying the ceremony. “My good lady, what is your name?” Father Angelos asked of Cloella, trying to be the connoisseur of politeness and respect towards her, for the ‘Black Devil’ stood watching.

Cloella smiled, looking up at the Hessian whose smile was very faint, detectable only by her; she then looked towards Angelos. “Cloella Van Kelland.” And as soon as she had said her name, she began to wonder if the Hessian even knew what her name was. He had never said her name, not once she’d known him. Would he continue to do so even after they were husband and wife? And was she to continue calling him ‘Hessian’ throughout their marriage too?

“Ahh,” replied Father Angelos. “Do you, Cloella Van Kelland, take…take…”again the monk stuttered, looking up at the maniacal teeth of the Horseman sheepishly. “Take…him…to be your husband, to love and to honor and to obey for all the days of your life?” But he expected the girl to take one good look at the beast beside her and not agree to.

Cloella beamed, again looking at the Hessian, who seemed to be looking far off, but she could see his ice blue eyes were heavy with an emotion he was pretending he didn’t feel as deeply as he did in the presence of an outsider. She tightened her grip on his hand knowingly, and he responded by doing the same. “I do.”

“I see,” mumbled Father Angelos, beginning to wonder about the girl’s faculties, but the Hessian mercenary again moved to draw his rapier. The monk was shocked back to his duty. “And do you…” again Angelos paused.

Cloella felt her stomach tighten. The Hessian seemed to pay no attention to the subtle request made by the priest for him to state his name. She wondered, should she dare to say the name of ‘Heinrich’ for the Hessian? This was after all their wedding! But the Hessian’s continued silence and menacing stare at Father Angelos told her to say nothing. She waited, wondering if they would indeed be married on this day after all.

Finally the Hessian spoke, his voice coming from between his clenched sharp teeth. “Move on, Father!” He hissed, withdrawing his rapier from its sheath with an audible “shhhriiinnnggg”.

“Fine, then,” Father Angelos squeaked. “Do You take Cloella Van Kelland as your wife, to love and to cherish and to protect for all the days of your life?”

The Hessian glanced down at the girl, who looked up at him with such love and devotion in her eyes, one of her hands pressed over her abdomen, as if cradling their unborn child. This time the Hessian couldn’t fend off his smile. “I do.” He said, without taking his eyes off the girl. A tear rolled down the girl’s cheek.

Father Angelos was not at sure what to make of the spectacle. How could such a young and lovely girl actually want such a fiendish and awful butcher as a husband? What had the Hessian Horseman threatened her with? But the priest couldn’t ponder anything for too long, for even as the Hessian still stood admiring his bride, he raised his rapier up towards the monk’s heart when he didn’t continue. Father Angelos nearly dropped the bible as the point of the weapon pressed against his chest. “I, I don’t suppose there is a ring?” He clamored.

The Hessian took his hand from the girl’s and immediately began to root inside the leather pouch on his belt. “A ring nein, but there is this.” He said, his rapier still pressed threateningly to the fat monk, but his eye remained on the girl, she was so beautiful, and she loved him so very much. He again put his hand in hers, pressing something small and oddly shaped into her palm, turning her hand upwards so that the girl could see the item. “It is all that I have left of my mother.”

Cloella’s eyes heaved with more tears when her Hessian said those words, and she looked down into her hand to see a small gold star shaped charm that had a delicate pearl in its center. She could see that it was meant to be worn on a piece of ribbon that was tied around the neck, and though it was not the gaudy, jewel encrusted ring most women received as a token of engagement, it was now Cloella’s most prized piece of jewelry. She looked up at the Hessian, wishing to thank him, but there were no words that expressed how touched she was. All that he had left of his mother, he’d now given to her. She closed her hand around the little gold star tightly and just looked up into his ice blue eyes, thinking for a moment that there was a tear or two in them as well. For a moment, there was nothing else in the world, just herself, the Hessian, and their unborn baby; nothing else was of any importance.

Father Angelos droned on nervously about the ‘power vested in him’ but neither Cloella nor the Hessian paid much attention. They couldn’t have taken their eyes away from each other if they’d wanted to, and by some luck, had begun to reach for each other as the priest said the words “man and wife, you may kiss your bride”, and the Hessian again dropped down to one knee, making it easier for the girl to lean into him and he wrapped the arm, that did not hold a rapier to Father Angelos, around her waist and he kissed her as if kissing her for the much anticipated first time, for in a way, he was. The girl was now his wife.

“Oh…” Cloella sighed as the Hessian again stood, she was so happy and so in love with her new husband, she’d nearly let the name of ‘Heinrich’ slip through her lips. “Hessian.” She smiled, laying her head to his broad chest with a smile, but calling the man she’d married “Hessian” was not what she hoped to continue doing. Surely, he would understand that a wife should call her husband by his name, wouldn’t he? The wife of a physician did not call her husband “Doctor”, the wife of a shoemaker did not call her husband “Cobbler”, so why must she call her husband “Hessian”?

The Hessian leaned down and kissed her again, still smiling at her, stroking her pretty face and then gently stroking her belly. He hated to leave her, his new wife, for however temporarily, but he knew he must. Father Angelos had seen far too much, and he had just sworn to “protect” his new wife. With a heavy sigh, yet constant smile, the Hessian kissed his wife’s hand in a parting gesture. “Go to the house, I will be at your side shortly.” He whispered to her.

“I know.” Cloella sighed, trying to not let the horrible feeling that threatened to come creeping back upon her do so. She knew very well where the Hessian was going, and that he would return alone this time. No, they’d been through this, there was no other way for their wedding to have succeeded, and now there was no other way for their marriage and life together to continue. Father Angelos was a dishonest monk; he was no loss to the world. Cloella sighed again, throwing her arms around her new husband once more. “I love you! No matter what, I love you! Forever!” Tears again appeared at the corners of her eyes.

All the armor in the world could not have shielded the Hessian from the blow those words had dealt him, and he stood, trying to regain control of his emotions and happy that the girl’s soft red hair and shoulder were there to bury his face in until he was sure there was no more wet sentiment on his face. He pulled away from her with another heavy sigh, trying to think of something to say that would make her roll her eyes and sigh at him, but he couldn’t, he was too in love with the girl at that moment to think of anything other than the word “Forever.”