Dost thou love me?

Author's Note: A somewhat old fashioned, traditional take on the Beauty and the Beast fairytale. Inspired by Madame Le Prince de Beaumont's 1786 rendition of the tale. I tried an almost Shakespearean turn on the language, and am semi- ok with it, although it turned out flowery and almost cloyingly-sweet... lol =) oh well...

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He watched her, attentively as her slender fingers brushed over the lute strings, her voice, sweet and crisp like a cool breeze, rising up into the dark, dusty room. There was warm colour in her cheeks and he thought she looked beautiful against the diamond-paned windows, her hair silhouetted by the evening light. He watched the soft pulse that rose and fell at her ivory throat, and the deep, green bodice that swelled like a glorious sea with each breath, reminding him of the rolling hills in his own country, and the many times he had traversed the wild landscape with his father as a child. He breathed in deeply, closing his eyes at the painful reminiscence. There was something about the beauty of music that pierced him to the core, reminding him of things he'd loved and lost… of things he'd never have…

How he wished he could take her in his arms and claim that beautiful mouth with his own, but just contemplating the horror on her face stilled his hand. He leant his head in his hands and closed his eyes, tears gathering unwillingly, shamefully at the corners. After a moment, he heard the lute strings falter and still.

"Beast?"

A soft voice broke the still air, and he sobbed quietly, not daring to raise his head, least she turn away from him, frightened.

"What troubles thee…?" she whispered so softy, so gently, he raised his head, as her fingers tentatively touched the rough fur of his cheek.

"It tis nothing Beauty," he said almost angrily, brushing away tears, "Only that your playing moves me so…"

She smiled down at him, at this gentle creature who she now knew would never harm her, whose speaking eyes, the colour of a clear summer sky, stirred such strange fluttering emotions in her. He was dressed in his usual finery; a wine-velvet, brocaded jacket with golden embroidery and a lace cravat. And it struck her once again, how strange it was to see the face and claws of a monster on what seemed like a normal, human man, whose courtesy and gentleness surpassed anything and anyone she had ever known.

"Shall I retire to my room then?"

"Only if you wish it Beauty… but I beg of you to stay…your presence is soothing..."

And the world seemed to shift around them, as she played into the night, the hazy shadows of afternoon, light and lyrical gracing her fingers. And suddenly she stopped, her eyes drooping, her fingers slipping from the strings. She gasped, pulling out of her dream-state, only to find his watchful eyes on her. His gaze was somewhat guarded but the pure longing in his eyes made her flush and look away.

"Beauty…" he whispered so softly she barely heard him. She looked up, carefully, hesitating, dreading this moment that came with every night, first the questioning look that made her heart race and then the whispered proposal of marriage. She trembled, frightened of the dark emotions that whirled inside her, unsettling her with a sense of wild and frightening desire.

"Dost thou love me?"

And for a moment, Beauty believed he was quoting from one of the many books they had read together, but when she looked into his eyes, a world of trembling emotions spilled forth like rain. "Will you be my wife?"

He looked too hopeful, too impassioned in that moment, that for one wild second, Beauty actually thought of saying yes, just to please him. She stood up, trembling in the dim light, her long dress whispering over the floor to where he was sitting.

"Thou art my dearest friend and confidant," she murmured, placing a palm on his cheek. He closed his eyes at her touch. "But nothing more…"

She left the room in a hurry, disturbed by the frequency of these questions, and even more so, why it became harder and harder to say no every time. She ran, unaware of the piercing blue eyes that stared so forlornly after her.

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"Beast!" she called. She tripped through the overgrown brambles, as she ran, scratched and bleeding through the gardens. He had to be here, he had to be… She knew this was all her fault. If only she had not delayed in her returning. When she had seen Beast lying quite pale and still in the magical mirror, something inside of her had broken. Both her sisters and her father begged her to stay, but this was something she needed to do.

Can it really be that I loved him all along without knowing it?

She brushed aside overhanging branches and side-stepped old, rotten roots until she came into the soft glade, lit by the pale, blue light of pre-dawn, and there he was, beside his favourite rose bush, myriades of blossoms like white stars against the deep velvet in the dim, morning light. Just visible, she saw the track of silver tears that marked a wayward path down his face. She stumbled towards him; a sob caught in her throat and held him to her, cradling him in her arms, wiping the dirt and tears that matted his fur.

"Beauty…" he whispered so faintly she almost cried. "You have come back…"

"Hush," she whispered, her arms slipping around him protectively and she realised in that moment that she would do anything for him.

"Where is thy speaking lute?" he mused gently. "I would much like to hear thy voice again one last time…"

Beauty lay her head on his chest and between sobs, sang about the coming of spring and the birds that came out to roost in the thicket after the pale winter frost, and some time during her song, she felt Beast's irregular breathing become quite still.

She looked down, tears blinding her as she heard an echo of long ago words, lost in the frightening, empty silence.

Dost thou love me?

And she kissed his face again and again, and images of all the heroins in her books came to mind, as she whispered immortal words, "I love thee… please don't die dear Beast."

And suddenly it was as if a bright light overcame her and she felt herself lifted, suspended within a vibrant, gleaming light. And when she looked again, the beast was gone and in his place was a young man… the young man she had seen in the Hall of mirrors, the beautiful man from her dreams. She gasped, her fingers pressed to her mouth as everything flowed into place in her mind like the answer to a riddle.

"Beauty."

He spoke one word and in that one word was a world of love and longing. He took her in his arms and she fell against him, tears in her eyes.

"You freed me from the accursed spell," he whispered into her hair. And he proceeded to tell her how he had been cursed by an evil fairy who had said that he could not be freed unless a young maiden fall in love with him despite his appearance and consent to marry him.

He pulled back, his eyes shining and cupped her face in his hands, his thumb brushing the corner of her mouth. "Dear heart..." he murmmured wonderingly and his eyes seemed to burn with bright fire. Beauty seemed to come out of her daze and smiled up at him, knowing the unspoken question in his eyes...

"Dost thou love me truly?"

And she cried, burying her face in his soft shirt and wild, familiar scent as she mouthed the words again and again.

"I love thee..."

And he gently tipped her face up, his soft hair falling across her face, and kissed her and she thought she had never felt anything as wondrous as his lips on hers, his hands in her hair, his warmth and sweet strength and the loss of all time…

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