Hollow Manor: Twas the Night before Christmas

It wasn't often that Archibald Hollow paid a visit to Osmund in his room and whenever such a rare occurrence happened, it was never for a good reason. Usually it was because Osmund's music was playing too loud and the man would only pop his head in to scold Osmund and tell him that the nonsensical racket he was making was interfering with his work. So naturally, when the full body of his father appeared before him in his private bedroom, Osmund feared for what would come.

"Happy Christmas eve, Osmund," The man said, professionally. Osmund nodded and muttered back the same, out of respect for his father. His heart pounded beneath his calm facade. What did he want? Osmund couldn't ask that but rather instead watched as he father meandered about his room, examining the books Osmund kept on his shelf, dragging a hand across Osmund's beloved record player. "I've spoken with your fiance's guardian recently and you know what she told me?" Archibald asked, trying to sound conversational. Osmund shook his head no. "Little sweet Annaliese Montoya had called off the engagement." There was clear annoyance in his father's voice and he looked coldly at Osmund to see a response. Osmund already knew about that happening. That was the reason for Annaliese staying with them that summer, something that probably disillusioned his father to think he was simply wooing the girl he was to wed. Osmund kept a straight face, not wanting to show the relief he felt for the engagement being broken. "Did you know about this?" Osmund felt honesty was the answer and nodded. "For how long?" The annoyance was turning into irritation.

"Awhile," Osmund answered plainly, emotion vacant from his voice. His father replied surprisingly calm.

"It was an inconvenience, but luckily I found out in time."

"What?" Osmund replied, before he could stop himself. "What do you mean?"

"Whereas Annaliese Montoya would've made a decent wife for you, I suppose the fates didn't allow. Regardless, perfect wedding material is plentiful when you have connections like I do." Osmund took that in, his heart falling to his stomach. He wasn't free. Of course he wouldn't be free if Annaliese pulled off the engagement because he'd still be under Archibald's roof and Archibald wouldn't stop after he had failed once. He'd never quit. Osmund could lose a hundred arranged fiances and his father would still be trying to set him up with the perfect blooded wife. He'd never be free. "You'll be meeting her on New Year's eve-"

"No," Osmund said, coldly. Archibald paused in his walking and looked his son in the eyes.

"Excuse me?"

"I said no. I won't do it." His father laughed, degradingly.

"That's not up for you to decide," He said, approaching Osmund then. He sat down next to Osmund and awkwardly ran his hand across his short white hair. Osmund cringed, an unexpected response considering he thought he always wanted a bit of affection from his father. But this didn't feel like affection. It felt like he was a doll being admired by someone who collected dolls. He brushed his father's hand away and walked away to the window, his back to his father.

"You know what I want for Christmas?" He paused hardly enough time for his father to answer him. "I want you to forget about this arranged marriage thing and let me be with who I want," He finished. Archibald laughed again.

"So you can be with that scrawny brunet boy?" Osmund's eyes widened. He never told his father anything about his relationship with Xavior, nor did he think that the man would notice. "Oh trust me Osmund, I know. But instead of wasting your time with commitment on a boy who's blood is, well, unclean, you need to marry well for name and money and then I could care less about who you play around with in your free time." Osmund turned a deep red at the notion. Xavior as his mistress? It seemed twisted but he knew exactly where this thought was inspired from.

"No, I'm not like you, father. I don't want to marry someone I hate just to please people and then see others behind their back all the time!" His heartbeat picked up with the adrenaline pulsing through his veins. He now understood exactly how Helena felt and why she did what she had done. She was married to someone she hated and had a child with said man all the while the man went off and slept with other women. Finlay was breathing proof of it. "I'm not even sure if I want to get married! I'm only seventeen years old! Why must we discuss this now? Why must you treat my life like a business! I'm a human being! Not something you can deal and trade! My life has always been controlled and for once I want to make my own decisions!" Osmund was yelling now and he saw the humored degrading look on his father's face go cold.

"I advise you to think carefully before making that decision, Osmund. You're close to losing important allies." Osmund stared at his father, handsome in his age, wealthy to the point of utter comfort. He once thought him to be admirable, exactly who he wanted to be when he grew up. Now, he wanted nothing to do with the man.

"I want..." Osmund paused. He looked around his room, which was large and adorned divinely. He felt little emotional attachment to it all. He looked back to the man whom fathered him but did little to raise him. The man who only took him back into his household because he had to. "I want to know whether or not you love me," Osmund finally finished. He watched a grin pull at his father's lips. "Honestly," Osmund added, sharply. The man paused then, calculated an answer, then replied.

"There is no room for love in this matter." Osmund nodded, his heart feeling heavy. All his childhood dreams ruined with the words that he had always known but never allowed himself to consider true.

"Then I want to decide whether or not I get married and to whom," Osmund answered, disheartedly. His eyelids fell over his hazel eyes.

"Then you must leave."