She bids me listen

Author's Note: I had planned on writing three vignettes around Christophe and his children (Christophe is my name for the Prince rather than Adam), but this is the only one that I've managed to get up so far. Christophe plays with his youngest daughter Genevieve and escapes the pandemonium of Christmas preparations to just 'listen' and reflect.

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Pine needles, holly and berries drift down to us in our secret place. I look about in the still, green coolness and glimpse a pair of blue eyes, radiating mischief.

"Genevieve what...?"

She gives me a stern look. "Shhh... Papa... don't let anyone hear you..."

I creep in further on my elbows, accumulating numerous scratches on my arms and face. When the servants had lugged the massive tree in only yesterday, under Cogsworth's careful eye, I had no idea I would be crawling underneath it like a rat in a hole. I squeeze in dubiously amongst the gifts, labels, red bows and glitzy wrappings, the smell of fresh pine making me sneeze.

"Ok... now lie on your back..."

"On my back? But why princess...?"

"Just do it."

Grumbling, but only half-heartedly, I twist my body impossibly so as not to risk being unmanned by some conspicuous-looking object poking out of the bottom of a stocking; no doubt a sword for one of the boys.

Breathing a sigh of relief, I roll over onto my back and stare at the dark underside of the tree and watch the branches that criss-cross and intertwine into a maze above us. Pine needles as light as feathers spiral down from their height and land on my face. I try and blow them off but to no avail.

Genevieve scooches easily in beside me and in that moment, I envy her ease and freedom.

"Papa," she giggles, seeing my face ridiculously puckered like a fish, "what are you doing...?"

"Trying not to suffocate..."

"Silly Papa..." She reaches out a small hand and brushes the greenery gently off my face. I playfully bite her fingers and she squeals and looks at me, her eyes reproachful yet full of laughter.

"Genevieve...?"

"Yes Papa...?"

"What are we doing under the Christmas tree...?"

"Shhh..." she giggles and kisses my shoulder, leaving a wet half-moon on my shirt.

"We're listening..."

"Listening to what...?"

"Everything..." And she lies down beside me, spreading her arms wide to touch the fringe of dark ever-green, closing her eyes, a sigh on her lips.

She bids me listen and I touch her cheek gently before obligingly closing my eyes, giving in to her little game.

Silence.

At first the silence is deafening...

And then it gradually mellows out to an indistinct hum of life... that gets louder

and louder...

Breathing. In. Out. In. Out.

The smell of fresh pine mixed with the beeswax polish of the floor. Cold marble against my arm, goosebumps, distant shouting... I strain to listen more clearly... is that Fian's voice in the music room? – No – it must be one of the cooks... Outside door opens and slams, cold, snowy breeze rifles through my clothes. Footsteps clatter over marble, a chatter of indistinct voices.

More pine needles drift onto my face, I can feel the uncomfortable dig of a large present in my side, I feel the slight shifting, the slight trembling of the branches. But inside like this, I am wrapped, cocooned, safe, held closely away from the eyes of the world. I listen to the faint stirrings of orchestra practice, the flutes and the strings lift my soul to a gentle place of transcendence. Floating, light-filled... ethereal...

White, crisp, snowy landscape...

Clear and crystal,

And I am so sleepy... drifting... drifting

Drifting.

A door slams.

More hurried footsteps... and then voices getting louder

And louder...

"But I thought you told him Cogsworth!"

"Well I..." blustered the rather wheezy voice, "I can't think of where he disappeared to..."

"Ah mademoiselle Belle!"

My breath catches in my throat as I hear the familiar, heart-warming footsteps, the rhythm graceful and light, the rhythm of my beloved.

"You haven't seen your husband around by any chance...?"

"No, but I... oh Mrs Potts – I was just looking for you!"

"Try these Christmas pies, dearest, just pulled them straight from the oven..."

"Well, I don't mind if I do –"

"Not you Lumiere... aren't you the least bit concerned that our King has gone missing?"

"Oh lighten up Cogsworth, just one taste –"

"All you can think of is your damned stomach! –"

There is a sudden silence as something large and heavy smashes to the floor.

Clang

"You two, just look what you've done to my cooking!"

The silver dish clatters to the floor along with the sweet pastries, coming dangerously close to our hiding spot.

"Zut alors! I am so sorry Mrs Potts..."

"I'll get it!" I hear Belle's beautiful, warm voice as she comes closer to the tree.

"Your highness, I must insist!" I freeze for a moment, thinking Cogsworth must have spotted my boots amongst the painted, wooden nutcrackers and boughs of evergreen but then I realise he is talking to Belle. I open my eyes and try to sit up, forgetting that I can barely move in this cramped space. I swear under my breath, rubbing the top of my head and watch a pair of high-button boots tap a well known staccato on the highly polished floor.

"Lumiere, come here at once and pick up the dish you dropped..."

I hear many swearings and mutterings and then Lumiere's hand floats into view. Before I can even move, his head pokes through the branches and his eyes widen considerably upon seeing the two of us lying there. Simultaneously we put our fingers to our lips and make shushing movements.

Lumiere nods his head slightly and a mischievous grin stretches across his face. "But of course mon ami," he whispers, tapping his finger against his nose, "as silent as the grave..."

"In heavens name, what's taking so long Lumiere?" I hear Cogsworth's impatient shouting and the staccato tapping becomes a mini hailstorm.

"Sacrebleu. Coming, coming..."

There is more general scuffle, Mrs Potts exasperated annunciation of "Men," followed closely by her and Belle's retreating footsteps.

Cogsworth's irritated voice once more permeates the air. "I don't know where his majesty has got to..."

"Perhaps," says Lumiere in a very subdued voice, "the master is just taking a short nap..."

"What? At this time of the day! Don't be absurd."

And more general scuffle as the crowd of servants bustles through the door. The door slams.

And once more silence.

And slowly I turn to the right, amongst the ever-green and candles and watch Genevieve's face as she tries very hard to hold back a fit of giggles. A strange child if there was any. At times she is like a wild cat, fighting tooth and nail and tormenting her brothers, and at other times she holes herself away like now, to disappear into her own world of childish imaginations. I sigh, thinking I will probably not have this for much longer.

It is truly something in this busy world, to escape and just be...

I touch my finger to the tip of her nose and she bursts, laughter spilling out of her like sunshine, so much so, that I can feel the outer branches of the tree shaking, tiny golden bells chiming. Her sky-blue eyes look at me in consternation. "You broke my concentration Papa!"

"Sorry little one" I mumble, dropping my head in mock shame. She smiles almost instantly and hugs me. I only hope that she can stay as young and innocent forever.

"Princess...?"

"Mmhmm..." She takes my hand and forces me once more to lie down on my back. I sigh and she snuggles into my side.

"Promise me something..."

"Anything Papa..."

"That we'll do this again next year..."

She doesn't answer but I can feel her smile and I open my mind to gentle transcendence, the friendly tree wrapping me in thoughts of family, warmth and familiarity... The world blurs around me and I close my eyes and drift into comfortable stillness.

o0o

Merry Christmas everyone! And now... I love getting reviews, so just drop a note to say hi or anything at all and I will be happy =)