Disclaimer: I own neither the characters nor the universe they exist in. The title comes from Phantom of the Opera's "The Point of No Return"

He doesn't recall the Miller's Daughter being so beautiful in the brief glimpse he had of her in his vision. Yet the woman who stands before him is exquisite with pale skin and thick dark hair that possesses just a tint of red. Her eyes are wide and brown, but they aren't the soft ones of a doe. Instead they are hard with caution, with suspicion, as she regards him from across the tower room. She's still young, but she has clearly long since lost the innocence synonymous with girlishness. A part of him wonders if she had ever had it.

As lovely as she is, however, he finds that it isn't her looks that attract him as much as the fact that she, unlike everyone else he has dealt with since becoming the Dark One, she is neither repulsed by him nor frightened. Her curiosity and thirst for knowledge and vengeance compel him into changing the terms of their contract, something which he's never done before. Being close to her, feeling her bony curves beneath his hands, awakens in him a desire that has lain dormant since the early days of his marriage to Milah.

In the hour before the king's guards come for her and after all the straw has been spun into shimmering gold, he takes her on a pallet he summons. She's an eager partner, her nails, although cut short to facilitate all the work she has to do with her hands, digging into his skin; meeting each devouring kiss with equal hunger and moaning and panting as he thrusts into her. She bites into his shoulder to muffle the scream that escapes her as she comes and although he winces, he finds the pain pleasurable, reaching his climax in turn.

Both of their chests are heaving in the aftermath as he clutches her loosely to him as he slumps against her in turn. Noting the becoming flush that has risen to her face once he has caught his breath, he brushes a stray brown curl out of her eyes and briefly laments the fact that he has just helped her secure that insipid prince for a husband. Would he be able to satisfy her? Doubtful, but at least she'd have the revenge she craved against the royals who had done nothing but sneer at her.

"Will I see you again?" She asks, surprising him, as he finishes rebuttoning his shirt, his back to her. Slowly, he turns to face her where she sits, her skirts still bunched up around her waist and detects what he believes is hope sparking in her eyes (when later thinking back on these events, he would consider this moment as the one where he fell in love with his protégé).

The corners of his mouth twitch upwards into an unseemly smile almost despite himself. "Certainly, dearie," is all he says, keeping his tone callously light, "if you wish it."

Her gaze remains locked with his as she replies in utter seriousness, "Oh, but I do." His heart skips a beat at those words, but unwilling to betray this fact, he only vanishes without another word. Alone in his bed at the Dark Castle, he finds himself wishing for the sensation of a lithe white form pressed against his and the sound of a husky voice whispering his name in his ear.