Chapter Text
Ah, public celebrations. There was nothing more entertaining than coming to the town square and enjoying oneself alongside other animals—dancing a waltz or something more heated. Someone tapped out a lively dance in a nearby tavern, animals laughed and spun together, and somewhere further away games of agility and speed were underway.
And right beside the stage stood the man of the hour—Ebenezer Linksley himself, adjusting his suit.
Normally, he helped finance events like this. It benefited him in its own way—but today, that wasn’t the point.
Everything felt warm and friendly. The centennial of the Snake Valley was a momentous occasion, impossible not to celebrate.
The snake smiled brightly with her warm, gentle smile and waved the tip of her tail the moment she spotted the lynx on stage.
Ebenezer’s heart began to pound with affection. Oh, this snake drove him mad. He could hardly remember when he had first fallen for this beautiful serpent. She had completely turned his head.
She was stunning. And her voice—oh. Watching her fluid, water-like body move as she spoke, gesturing vividly while explaining the most incredible ideas, it was impossible to look away.
They loved sitting together over a cup of tea, talking about whatever interested them. He would kiss her scaled tail—as a greeting or farewell, the way one would kiss a lady’s hand. They understood each other almost without words.
She often shared her quirky but undeniably functional blueprints. Linksley adored this blend of practicality and artistic vision that defined De’Snake.
He could listen to her for hours without interrupting.
One day, they were strolling through a nearby park—a pleasant little place, especially with good company.
Madam De’Snake was intelligent and well-read; conversations with her were a delight to his ears. As they say, there is always something to talk about with a clever soul. It felt as though their dialogues could last forever.
“Oh, I’ve been thinking about this project for a long time,” the snake said, describing her new invention—wind-shielding walls. “You understand, its scale is enormous. I’ll need funding.”
“Oh! Then let me help you with that,” Ebenezer blurted out.
“Truly?” Her eyes lit up. “Oh, Mr. Linksley, that’s incredibly generous of you. It means so much to me!” She nearly looked ready to cry with happiness, pressing the tip of her tail to her face—though snakes, unfortunately, cannot cry.
He smiled kindly, and they shook… well—whatever passed for hands—sealing their verbal agreement.
In truth, Agnes had been a widow for a long time.
Her husband, also a fine snake, had worked in the mines. Sadly, there had been a collapse. Everyone inside had died. Long funerals followed, and the town mourned for a great while.
Yet this beautiful, strong snake did not bend under grief. Her stoic resilience was something anyone might envy. She truly was extraordinary.
Everyone loved Agnes. She was kind and gentle, always ready to help others.
Smart and perceptive, she shared her wisdom with the young—and sometimes even taught those older than herself a thing or two.
Agnes De’Snake’s accomplishments were remarkable. Her strange designs genuinely helped, making life in the Valley easier and happier. A brilliant woman.
Her sons—quick, lively boys—took after their mother. Handsome, clever children, always cheerful and always together.
Their family was truly happy.
Her violet-blue scales shimmered like gemstones, especially when sunlight touched them. The faint wrinkles on her face revealed her age and earned her the title of “Madam” rather than “Lady”—but old Linksley was no young man either. They were well matched.
The lace bracelet with a gemstone once belonging to his late great-grandmother—meant for a wrist or hoof—rested instead around her neck, yet it looked perfectly fitting. Ebenezer was glad to give it to her, even though it was a family heirloom. He never wore it anyway.
That evening, he knocked on the wooden door—hesitant, yet loud enough. Warm yellow light spilled from within. So warm.
He adjusted the bouquet of yellow flowers in his hands—somewhere between buttercups and irises. They reminded him of Agnes’s eyes.
The hallway light turned on, and the sound of an unlocking door followed. The nameplate on the mailbox gleamed kindly in the glow from the small window.
The lynx would manage. He had to.
Madam De’Snake opened the door unhurriedly and looked at her late visitor. She didn’t appear sleepy at all—rather, Agnes was smudged with graphite and ink. She had been working.
“Oh, Mr. Ebenezer! Please, come in,” she said warmly, stepping aside and accepting the flowers at once, already searching for a vase. “Thank you for such a lovely gift. I adore flowers!”
“Oh, I’m glad to see you too. Your words mean a great deal to me,” he replied, stumbling slightly before smiling.
“I’m happy to welcome you into my home,” she said as her body glided swiftly across the colorful carpet—adorable, with a snake woven into its pattern—heading for the kitchen to put the kettle on.
Ebenezer sat on the low oval sofa, glancing around. Decorative cushions in blue and violet hues rested nearby. He rarely visited her home, but it always felt warm and bright. The interior was filled with muted, gentle colors that lulled one into a sense of comfort. A family photo from before her husband’s death hung behind him. Nearby stood a small children’s table, cluttered with toys. Mischievous boys…
But the lynx hadn’t come to daydream or chatter. He had come to confess.
“We should speak quietly,” Agnes said softly. “My boys just fell asleep. I hope you understand.”
“Of course. Don’t worry.”
Once the kettle boiled, Agnes poured their favorite herbal tea and placed it on the coffee table, sliding a plate of cookies closer to Ebenezer. Such a charming little dish.
“There’s something I’ve wanted to talk to you about for a long time,” he began. “I thought it best to wait, to think it through… What I’m about to say—it won’t be easy.”
“I… you… I have deep feelings for you. I love you. I’m attached to you,” Linksley finally forced out. His body trembled with fear, but he said it.
“Oh, I love you too, my friend!” she replied instantly—completely misunderstanding him.
“N-no! Not as a friend!” he exclaimed, rising slightly, gesturing awkwardly with his paw. “I love you as my mate. Do you understand?”
The snake recoiled a little, staring at him in shock.
“I don’t… understand, Ebenezer,” Agnes said slowly, pressing the tip of her tail to her face in thought.
“I mean… please, let us be together. I want to be with you, because I lo—”
“I’m sorry, but… no.” She cut him off sharply. Her body coiled tightly around itself, defensive.
The lynx’s heart cracked dangerously. How… how could this be? After everything between them…? Or had he imagined it all?
“Wh—what? Why?!” he cried, standing up in desperation.
Agnes frowned, her tongue flicking out. This was difficult. Didn’t he understand something so simple?
“How can you not see?” she raised her voice, then faltered, glancing at the door. “You… you don’t know what this would cost… my children…”
Fear filled her eyes. She coiled tighter.
“Mr. Linksley,” she sighed heavily. “You don’t understand. You never will. We cannot be together. Please, stop. You need to leave.”
She nudged him toward the door with her tail.
“But I love you!” Ebenezer whimpered.
“I’m sorry. You must go.”
With a look he couldn’t decipher, she hurried him out, pressing the slightly damp bouquet—wet from the vase—into his hands.
The irises no longer seemed beautiful. He stared at the closed door in confusion and emptiness.
Why…?
Ebenezer Linksley’s heart was broken.
Putting himself back together was harder than he’d imagined. He felt shattered like a mirror, crushed by failure so intensely that he wanted to howl from pain and injustice. He replayed everything again and again—where had he gone wrong? What had he missed?
No. This wasn’t rejection. This was humiliation.
Humiliation of his dignity.
How dare she?! He had done everything for her! Sponsored her project! Helped however he could! Stayed her friend! And she—she had spat venom straight into his soul!
Grief faded, leaving only festering rage.
Ebenezer was as loving as he was resentful. In the grip of blind fury, he no longer understood his actions. This time, resentment outweighed reason.
He considered everything—from ruining Agnes De’Snake’s reputation to… far worse, if necessary.
At first, he planned only to take the patent. Claim her work as his own. Strike back, as he believed she had struck him.
His servant—a kind-hearted turtle—had seen everything. Painful as it was, it had to be done. There was no turning back.
With unseen aggression, he drove the injector’s needle filled with snake venom forward. He didn’t understand what he was doing. The turtle’s body collapsed onto the stone path, her clouded eyes looking up at her master.
Something inside him cracked.
But it was done. There was no returning. He had killed her.
Everything unfolded as planned. The snake—the wicked murderer—could no longer remain. Now he ruled the game. He had proven that he was… that he was… a fool?
Rain drummed against the glass. His mood sank, as if the last light in his rotten soul had been extinguished.
He sat quietly by the fireplace, smoking a roll of catnip to steady his nerves. Too much stress. He needed sleep.
He later found a suitable match—a noble lynx from a wealthy family. Perhaps he loved her, but never as he loved Agnes. No, he would never love anyone the same way.
Love still smoldered inside him like a small flame in a lantern—perhaps guiding him, perhaps haunting him.
A son was born. A fine boy. He grew, had children of his own. Grandchildren followed. They grew tall and strong.
Ebenezer aged. His fur dulled, wrinkles deepened, his health declined. Aging was inevitable.
He loved his family—but quiet evenings always made him wonder. What if Agnes had been with him? Would she have been happy? What if they had left everything behind? What if the world hadn’t been so cruel to her?
But history does not tolerate what ifs.
It must be accepted as it is.
Agnes left the Snake Valley.
For the rest of her days.