She sat in the council room with the others with pursed lips, hardly daring to breathe. Her heart thudded in her throat and try as she might, she couldn't help but count each one off, because she knew she might not have many left.
Outside, the crashes continued on. She'd woken in the middle of the night, tangled in blankets and for one crazy moment she believed it was just a passing storm.
No, her father had told her. He had tried to smile, but she could see the pain behind it. He looked as though he'd aged overnight. New lines creased his face and she swore she could pick out a stream of silver hairs framing his face whenever he took off his cap. How much had this war cost him?
How much had this war cost them all? Belle forced her mind to turn away from the thought, feeling the pain stab at her heart like a shard of ice.
Mother, she thought. What would you do in my shoes?
She choked down her tears and tried to concentrate on the page before her. If she could just find an answer… Frustration jarred at her and the lines of cramped handwriting began to merge into one.
Belle slammed the book closed with a gasp. She held the spine so tightly that her knuckles turned white.
Ridiculous that her books could offer her nothing now, in the most dire of moments! How many times had she turned to them, for comfort, for solace, for help? Hmph.
Not that she could read at a moment like this. She could feel the tension radiating from Gaston and her father, the quick exchange of glances when they thought nobody was watching. They wouldn't share their concerns with her. They wouldn't want her to worry her pretty little head about it. Yet Belle noticed the way Gaston's hand kept moving towards his sword. Part of her wanted to laugh at him, tell him that it would do no good. Hadn't he ever seen an ogre before?
But a larger part of her brain yearned for hope, even the faintest trace of it, so she kept silent. Besides, she reasoned, at least when Gaston's mind was on fighting he wouldn't be wasting his time complaining at Belle for reading. A small frown crossed her face. To think that she would ever agree to marry a man who didn't own a single book.
Still, it kept her father happy. Gaston came from a good family, a powerful one. And her father needed all of the alliances he could get these days. Many of the villagers had already fled, determined to escape the dreaded draft laws. Belle couldn't blame them. They needed to survive, any way they could. And so she'd agreed when Gaston asked for her hand in marriage, because that was a kind of survival too. Her father needed this from her; he needed to know that his family would live on even if the ogres stormed the castle. He wanted someone younger to look out for his daughter, someone who could protect her from the monsters and ensure that she lived a long and prosperous life.
Even if that wasn't what she wanted.
Another crash reverberated around the room, drawing her away from her thoughts. The door to the council room burst open, revealing a young soldier carrying a map. His eyes were wide and wild and his lips trembled as he hastened to speak.
"The… the map… m'lord. As… as you requested." He gave a curt bow, the chainmail around his neck clicking together.
Belle stood up as he snatched the map from the soldier's hands and rolled it out on the desk, shoving away the wine glasses and plates. They fell to the floor and for a moment the hideous noises beyond the castle walls were accompanied by the tinkle of broken crockery. Belle's heart gave an uneasy stutter.
"Sir, there is news from the battlefield," said another soldier. "Avonlea has fallen."
Belle sucked in a breath and turned to her father. He seemed to visibly shrink in his robes as he absorbed the news.
Their worst nightmare.
Avonlea had fallen. The ogres were gaining ground quicker than they could ever have anticipated. And that meant… Well, nothing stood between the castle and Avonlea now. The ogres would come for her family next, and when they were done it would be like their whole kingdom had never even existed.
"My Gods," her father breathed.
For a moment nobody said anything. Everyone just stood around the council table, unable to shake off the sense of impending doom that now permeated the air. Belle stared down at the map. The tiny wooden soldiers on it reminded her of the board games her family would sometimes play years ago, long before the ogres began to threaten the kingdom.
Gaston broke the silence.
"If only he had come," he said.
Another heavy pause. Belle could feel the bitter undercurrent of his words directed at her. A brief flicker of fury burned inside her. As if she could be blamed because the Dark One didn't turn up? At least she was trying to save them all.
No, she told herself sternly. That wasn't fair. Gaston's responsibilities were right here, helping her father; being his right hand man. Directing their armies against the ogres.
If only she could take his place. Belle shook her head and glanced back down at the pile of unread books on her table. They expected nothing of her, nothing at all. And that was the worst part of it, because she knew that underneath Gaston's blame lay a world of exasperation. He'd expected her to fail. Because she was a girl and girls couldn't do anything for their kingdoms except marry into good families.
Belle bit her lip. Perhaps it was best that her idea hadn't worked out. Her books wrought strange and twisted tales about the Dark One. If she believed even half of them…
"Well he didn't, did he?" Her father suddenly burst out.
Gaston glanced up, shocked. Rarely did her father direct his rage at his future son-in-law. Belle watched the exchange, open-mouthed.
"Ogres are not men," her father continued, pacing.
"We have to do something," the soldier who had brought the map said. "We have to stop them."
As if we haven't been doing everything in our powers, she thought. Still, the soldiers needed courage. If they abandoned her family now, all hope would be lost.
Besides, she didn't think she could stand the expression on her father's face any longer.
We will defeat them, Belle wanted to cry out, but one glance at her father told her it would be useless to try and speak up now. He slouched on his throne, defeated.
"They are unstoppable," he groaned.
Belle stormed over to him. Her own rage lent her strength. What would her mother say if she saw them all standing around like this, with their shoulders slumped, ready to give up?
Then again, her mother would surely have found an answer long ago. She knew the library like the back of her hand, the way even Belle couldn't claim to know it. Given time, her mother would have found some arcane text that instructed their soldiers on all the ogres' weaknesses.
Given time. But there would be no time for her mother. Belle would just have to accept that her books couldn't provide the answers. That she really was as useless to her family now as Gaston and her father had always assumed her to be.
No, she thought. She couldn't just cower here and wait to die.
She knelt down by her father's chair and took his hand. His palm felt clammy and cold.
"He could be on his way right now, Papa," she urged.
Her father didn't even bother to meet her eyes.
"It's too late, my girl," he said. "It's just- too late."
She wanted to burst into tears, but she held herself in check. No point in getting them all riled up. She'd probably just be escorted back to her room and told to rest for a while.
And when she next woke up, she would be lucky if the castle still stood around her. If she woke up again, of course.
She opened her mouth to argue, just as something pounded against the door. All heads whipped around to stare.
Could it be? For the first time since hearing the dreadful news, Belle felt a wild surge of triumph mixing with her desperation. The Dark One.
It must be him, she thought. Nobody else would come near us at a time like this.
"It's him," she said, grabbing hold of her father's elbow as he rose to stand. Confidence flooded into her voice. "It has to be him."
"How could he get past the walls?" Her father demanded, though he strode towards the door all the same. He made a movement with his hands to the guards holding the wooden beam that barred the door. "Open it."
Belle sucked in a breath. Her father's arm trembled at her side, though his face remained impassive. Gaston pressed against her shoulder, going for his sword. The blade snicked as he pulled it from his scabbard. A useless precaution, of course. Belle could count the number of men who had stood up to the Dark One with their swords and fighting skills and won on one hand. And she wouldn't need any fingers to do so. Her books skirmished around the subject of the heroes after that, though she could assume they didn't live happily ever after.
The doors creaked. Anticipation zinged through her veins.
They all stared into the empty hallway.
Nobody there.