The most curious thing in Castlevania were the mirrors.  Unlike most everything else inside these cursed walls, there was nothing special about them.  They were not enchanted, just normal mirrors.  Plain, human mirrors made with silver.  Gwen knew not why they hung on the walls inside the castle.  Perhaps they were once for the human wife of Dracula, because vampires like her certainly had no use for them.  Still, she found herself staring into them when she passed them by.

She remembered the first time she looked into a mirror after waking from that deep slumber that she had come to recognize as her death.  She knew her body had changed.  She could feel it; she could see it when she looked down at herself.  She scrambled to a mirror to cast her eyes upon the extent of her metamorphosis.  She expected to be horrified by what she saw, but found she was instead horrified by what she did not see.  Had she not seen her gown, she could have convinced herself she was only looking at a painting of the room, but this was not so.  The only thing she was grateful for was that she was unable to see how hard she had cried when she realized her fate.

Gwen had since seen glimpses of herself in puddles of water or reflecting off glass.  She had seen herself in a portrait painted by one of Dracula’s many minions- a portrait that she had caught Richter admiring on more than one occasion.  She knew what she now looked like, and each time she found a mirror, she half-hoped that she would see that image of herself that she had in her mind looking back.

Centuries had passed and this had never changed.  Even on this day, Gwen found herself standing in front of one large enough to see everything in the chamber… save for her.  She did not know why she did this to herself.  She only found herself upset at the visual reminder of her curse.  Just as she had convinced herself to move on, she saw the knob of the door behind her twist.

With her back turned, she watched as the door cracked open.  A smile crossed her face when she saw Richter poke his head inside and grew wider at the way his face lit up the moment that he found her.  She did not know if he was making an attempt to sneak up on her or if he just felt he did not need to announce himself, but he walked right behind her without saying a word.  Without tearing her eyes away from the reflection, she witnessed Richter’s hands as they smoothed across the fabric on her waist before his arms encompassed her and pulled her back to his chest.  Lips caressed her cheek.  He rested his chin on her shoulder and cut eyes to the mirror she was still staring at.

“It’s a pity, isn’t it?”

“A pity?” she softly asked.

“That you cannot see how cute you are when I touch you like this…”

In the reflection, Richter’s hand drifted up to the fabric that was taut enough to represent the shape of her full breasts.  His other roamed lower.  The skirt of her gown pinched as his hand rubbed between her legs through her clothes.  She did not need to see her face to know how flushed she looked.

“I find it a pity,” he whispered in her ear.  She began to feel him rub against her backside.  He squeezed her breast.  “I’d love to see myself taking you from behind.  I’ve imagined how these would sway each time I fill you.”

She gasped at this statement, combined with the way he rubbed against her.  She would have never in her life came up with such a scene, but as she watched his hands grope her invisible form, she found herself agreeing.  One hand moved to hold her chin, ensuring that she kept her eyes forward as he spoke.

“I’d love for you to see this pretty face of yours when it’s such a wreck.  I wish you could see what I do to you.” He chuckled against her neck. “Perhaps I can commission it…  The last to paint you did such a good job.”

She tried to shake her head in protest of the mere idea of such a thing.  With her portrait, she had to sit as reference.  She did not want to think about doing such a thing before others.  And oh, how long would they need to be in a position like that!  Her portrait took days.  She could hardly imagine how something more… intricate would take.

“The problem with that is that I do not want to share with others,” said Richter.  “None else deserve to see that which is mine alone…  None else but you.”

With that, he leaned forward with her.  Gwen’s palms steadied her as they fell to the table that sat beneath the mirror.  Her eyes shot back to it, and she could see Richter bent over her form.  She watched as his hands roamed down the curve of her waist before beginning to draw up the bottom of her gown.

To her dismay, he had exposed her in such a careful way that he did not expose himself.  The front of her gown blocked his body from view as he unbuttoned his pants and thrust into her.  Part of her wished they were closer to a window.  Not that she wished for anyone to see her through it, but she wished to see herself on it.  She truly did find it a pity.