The Tolling Bell
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Disclaimer: I don't own Inuyasha or Beauty and the Beast.
Prologue
Many years ago in a kingdom that no longer exists, there lived a king and his queen. They and their servants resided in a castle that was built upon a tall mountain, overlooking the distant towns that were their charge. The rulers wielded their power wisely and justly, and the land flourished.
Eventually, during these years of fortune, the queen gave birth to a son. Much celebration abounded throughout the land... that is until five days after the infant prince's birth, during which the queen abruptly fell ill and died.
The people mourned, and the king most of all, going so far as to swear off marriage to any other woman. As he had an heir, he was spared the insistent pressing of his advisers to seek a wife despite his vow... but not for long.
For while the king mourned, he neglected his duties. Overtime the land ceased to flourish and fell into a state of desolation. Finally, his subjects grew desperate and pressed upon him to take another wife. He did not have to love her as he did his first wife, they pleaded, only rule with her as he had his deceased spouse, and make the land prosper once more. Through the king's profound sorrow he still felt strong ties to his people, and so agreed.
The woman he eventually married was extremely beautiful, and rich to boot. Unfortunately, she was also vain and scheming, using large amounts of her money (and eventually money from the kingdom's treasury when her own ran out) to buy luxurious clothes, jewelry, and proud steeds. She cared nothing for the people themselves and thought them good only for creating things for her pleasure.
Fulfilling her own selfish desires, she neglected not only the people, but the king and her step-son. The king fell into a constant state of gloom and despair and, some years after re-marrying, followed his beloved first wife into the grave. His subjects did not mourn him, only prayed that the vain queen would follow him soon and leave his son to assume the throne, hopefully to bring to the land to its feet once more.
The young prince, meanwhile, was solely brought up by the nurses and servants assigned to him. They pitied him his lack of parents and his ever-absent step-mother, and tried to fill in the lack of parental affection by coddling him and seeing to his every need. As the result of years of unearned praise and endless pampering, by the time he reached his teens he was as spoiled and selfish and demanding as his step-mother (some said even more so). He was prone to flying into rages when, on the rare occasion, he did not get his way. After he grew out of boyhood when such things were accepted as childish behavior that would soon be grown out of, the servants ceased to pity him and instead began to fear and loathe his presence.
The years passed and the land was but a shadow of its former wealth. The only one who remained happy was the selfish queen, who continued to suck the people dry of their livelihood and will.
Then one day while out hunting in the woods surrounding the palace, a rabbit darted out in front of the queen's horse. The horse spooked and raced off into the underbrush. While trying to whip it into control, the queen was brought up sharply on a low branch. She was discovered later on the ground with a broken neck; the horse had disappeared.
She was buried unceremoniously next to her late husband. The horse never came back, and was missed much more sorely.
The prince was eighteen when he assumed the throne. Because of his dislikable demeanor and his stepmother's love of the single spotlight, he had never been presented to the public before, and so his coronation was eagerly awaited... but the people's hopes of him following in his father's footsteps soon crumbled to dust.
They didn't mind, however. That's because, for some strange reason, no one else other then those who had attended his coronation ball even remembered the last time there had been a reigning monarch. Most of the nobility kept quiet after the first several disputes, not wanting to soil their reputations with tales of them being mad, but several families did their best to convince people that there had indeed been a royal family in their castle on the mountain to the north.
"There isn't any mountain up there," incredulous townsfolk replied. "You can go and see for yourself."
So a small group of the lords and ladies set off for the north, afraid of what they might find but still determined to prove the truth of their tale. When they arrived at what should have been the foot of the mountain, however, they found nothing but a small forest clearing and a small, abandoned shrine.
Confused and frightened, the lords and ladies immediately rushed back home, never again mentioning kings, queens or castles except in bed-time stories where they belonged. It wasn't long afterwards that the strange incident was all but forgotten.
And thus, three hundred years passed...
Chapter 1: A Curse and a Prophecy
The new king was celebrating his coronation to the throne. The grand hall was filled with nobility from afar, and only at his parents' wedding had it looked so fantastic. Bright banners and tapestries hung on the walls, and tables set beneath them groaned under the weight of the immense quantities of food they had to support. The chandeliers and candelabras gleamed with a thousand small flames, lighting up the grand hall as if it were the brightest of days, although night was falling fast outside. Finely dressed servants were ever rushing back and forth, tending to the tables, the candles or the guests. It was well into the night and everyone was trying to act like they were having the greatest of times, and that they were truly overjoyed over the king's coronation. It wasn't that hard, actually; all they had to do was ignore him. If they did happen to catch his eye on accident, they bobbed their heads respectfully, then turned their backs to catch the nearest person in conversation.
The young king himself was sitting above the festivities upon his high-backed throne, languishing in a most un-kingly posture. He looked around the hall with a mixture of boredom and contempt, wanting nothing more then make his escape as soon as possible and lock himself in his rooms. He loathed all social gatherings; this ball had been completely his advisors' idea. Actually, he didn't know exactly who had set it up, and frankly he didn't care… he'd just find out tomorrow, and then fire them.
Suddenly, a loud Bam! broke through the merry music and babble. At first no one paid it any attention, but then it came again. The flurry of babbling died down into a broken trickle as people glanced at the great doors at the end of the hall.
The king waved a lazy hand. "A late-comer, no doubt. Someone get that."
A page scrambled to do his bidding and hastily opened the small door cut from the huge ones. He talked to the person on the other side of the door for a moment, then shut it and ran up to the throne, bowing low as he approached the dais.
"My king, it is an old woman and her daughter seeking shelter, for the night has fallen cold and swift."
The king rolled his eyes. "Just talk plainly, for crying out loud."
The page bowed again to mask a frown, muttering, "At least your father was learned."
"What was that?"
"Two women want to come in because it's really cold out," the page said loudly.
A titter ran through the crowd, but was instantly silenced.
"What?" The king asked in indignation, sitting upright. "Let dirty peasants into my castle? I don't think so! Make them go away!"
But the page barely had time to turn before a commotion started at the back of the crowd. An old woman was shoving her way through, dragging a younger woman behind her. Both wore shabby-looking cloaks with deep hoods, and the king made a mental note to ban cloaks, because they were annoying. And if it was cold, it would serve these two commoners right, for interrupting his ball. Nevermind that he had wanted some sort of disruption like this ten seconds ago.
"Let me through! Let me through!" The old woman shouted, and the crowd hastily parted to let her pass, more as so to not let her touch them then anything else.
The old woman stopped a few feet away from the throne, still holding tightly onto the other woman's hand. "Majesty," she began, her voice cracking with age, "May me daughter 'n I rest a bit in yer hall, mebbe have some food? Only we haven't had any in three days, 'n me daughter's sick wit' fever, besides… It's mighty cold out there, too."
Indeed, the young woman standing beside the old was wracked with shivers, and they both looked extremely tired.
"Well…" The king pretended to ponder. "Let's see. NO! Why would I waste any food on you two pieces of filth? What do I care what you've been doing your whole lives? You can't just barge in someone's house and then ask anything you please of them! Now, unless I haven't made my answer clear, get out before I have you broken."
The crowd gasped and murmured, and the old woman started coughing raggedly. But just as the king was about to signal for a couple of guards to drag her and her daughter out, the cough turned into a healthy, throaty laugh. The crowd stopped talking immediately.
"What are you laughing at, old hag?" The king demanded incredulously.
"Aha ha ha ha!" The old woman threw back the hood of her cloak, revealing herself not as a wrinkled crone, her back bent with age, but a young woman, standing tall and proud. The strands of frizzy gray hair protruding from beneath her hood had vanished, showing instead a head of long, black hair that shone in the candlelight. She was stunningly beautiful, and the king was thrown off-guard by this sudden transformation… as were his guests.
"So, my King, the stories I have heard about you are true," the young woman said, her youthful voice somehow given power by a wisdom beyond her years. "'He'd marry a dog before he would a human, for at least he'd consider it his equal.' How true… how sad."
She laughed again at his expression, and some in the crowd flinched.
"Yes, they say those things about you! It is whispered in the lower parts, where many of your servants live in poverty. Spineless eel, heartless snake, greedy goat. Those are the more polite things that they have dubbed Your Majesty. I came to see myself if it was true."
"Yeah, well… Well, now you've seen it! So go!" The king shouted, trying to mask his sudden surprise and fear.
The woman shook her head, the candlelight dancing upon the silken sheen of her hair. "No, I think that a punishment is in order. Actually, not a punishment… merely... protection." Her eyebrows snapped together in a sudden frown as she raised her voice accusingly.
"For you would not help an old woman who was starving!" She pulled down the hood of her "daughter", and it was not a sick woman who stood there any longer. A young girl gazed up at the king with wide eyes; she was the younger, mirror image of the woman, and obviously her sister. "You would not help a girl who was dying! You are like the squirrel who hides all in its nest, not giving up one crumb for others. For your selfishness, your squandering, your idleness, you shall be punished for your deeds- or rather, your lack of them!"
The woman strode fearlessly up to the dais, continuing with her relentless speech even as the king shrank against the back of the throne. "You who cares nothing for common beasts- you shall become one, every time the moon rises full in the sky. Your thoughts, your cravings, your appearance. All will fear your presence, for in it they will suffer. You will grow into a monster as the moon grows into its prime, and when it fails to appear, you will be given a day's peace as a human. During that day you will lament the time you lost whiling the days away when you took humanity for granted."
She raised her arms above her head and strange energy filled the room, growing and building with each word that came out of her mouth. As one, the crowd drew back. Some of the servants quietly fled; they wanted no part in whatever was going on.
"This cycle shall spiral on for eternity, so that you will never be able to rest. All that resides in your palace and on your grounds will follow you until the end of time. Hear my words!" The witch turned to face the stricken crowd, arms still raised, her slender fingers pointing at the ceiling. "If you do not wish to share his fate, leave before midnight tolls."
Everyone glanced around wildly at his or her neighbor; they had no way of telling time among them. The time was kept by the celestial bodies and a large bell that rang out every hour. Nobody wanted to take the risk of staying a moment longer, and perhaps getting trapped in the witch's curse. The hall emptied swiftly, until none remained but the king, who found himself unable to move, and a female guard.
The witch looked at her, but her dark eyes were cold. "You are certain? You may never get the chance to leave again."
The guard lifted her head and stared straight back. "The King is under my protection. I will not abandon my duty. My family has served the royal family for years, and I won't shame them by playing a coward now."
Without another word the witch turned back to the king. She lowered her voice to a soothing croon... but there was a mocking current running throughout that stole all comfort away. "Do not give into despair yet, my king… there is one way to atone for your sloth, and thus lift the geis I have placed upon you. It is this: your heart of stone must soften for a common woman, who comes to this place of free will. But first she must see into your mind and heart, and learn to love what she finds. Only that pure bond is capable of breaking this curse."
She lowered her arms. At this movement, something in the air snapped; the curse was cast.
"And so, my King, I bid you farewell," the witch said softly. She grasped her sister's hand and turned to leave. "Whether with love or in the afterlife, may you find peace..."
She broke off as her sister abruptly pulled away and ran up the stairs of the dais. She fumbled in the folds of her cloak for a moment, then grabbed the king's hand. Ignoring his attempts to pull away, she pressed something into it.
"Here," she said, in a voice devoid of the confidence that gave her sister's such power. She was looking at him with pitying eyes. At first he was surprised; but then he quickly hated her for it. "This will help."
"You are too soft-hearted, Kaede," her sister snapped. "Leave him to his punishment and come!"
Kaede turned her head to look at the older woman. "It will be years before someone comes, sister. There is time enough for him to reform, and thus deserve some respite."
The witch shook her head disgustedly. "It was fashioned by your own hand, and thus I cannot touch it... If I had known you were going to-" She interrupted herself. "It's too late now. It has been done. Keep your gift then, king, and be glad that someone has given you mercy in your last moments of humanity."
She turned on her heel and swept down the length of the hall. Kaede hastily followed, tossing over her shoulder, "Keep it close!"
The door slammed shut behind them.
There was a horrible, standing silence. Then the anguished roar of a beast filled the air...
300 years later
"Are all who are necessary present?"
"They are."
"Then we shall proceed with the Seeing."
The old Seer bent over the baby who was nestled in her mother's arms and peered into her face. The child's eyes were large and dark, and fine black hair grew from the top of her head.
"How old is the child?" The Seer asked.
The baby's father answered. "She was born not two moons ago, Seer."
The Seer nodded, then turned and picked up a small jar from a table, where several other objects were laid out. Facing the child and her parents once more, she began tossing fine white powder over her, chanting in a low voice. The baby inhaled some of the powder and immediately began coughing.
Her mother glanced nervously at the Seer. She had closed her eyes and her chanting had increased in volume. Cautiously, the baby's mother whispered out of the corner of her mouth to her husband, "Are you sure that this is… reliable?"
"Of course," he muttered back. "Several other children in our village have been Seen, and they're doing all right. It will be the same for our little Kagome, don't worry." He smiled fondly at the sniffling baby.
The Seer stopped chanting and opened her eyes. "The first part of the Seeing has been completed… Her health is guaranteed."
Kagome's parents sighed in unison. "Thank the gods!" Her mother breathed.
The Seer went behind the table and sat down on a three-legged stool. She unraveled an untidily wrapped length of cloth. "Now we will See Fate."
Kagome's mother gasped as the cloth fell open to reveal some small, bleached cow bones. Strange shapes had been burned onto each one.
"A drop of blood is required for the bones to See true," the Seer said, drawing their attention away from the bones. She was holding up a thin, sharp-looking needle.
Kagome's mother instinctively hugged her daughter closer, then sighed and held out her delicate little hand. They had already paid so much for their first child's future to be secured… besides, it would only be one little prick. Right?
Faster then they could blink, the Seer swooped in and jabbed the needle at Kagome's tiny finger. A drop of blood welled out of the miniscule puncture, which the Seer caught on a white cloth. She then bound the finger with a small strip of clean fabric. Throughout it all, the baby never cried or made any sound; she was now happily engaged in trying to tug the bandage from her hand. Her mother gently put a stop to the tugging hand's actions while watching as the Seer placed the bones on the red-dotted cloth, gathered the ends together and began shaking it. She did not chant this time, merely kept her eyes closed as if deep in concentration.
After about a minute, the Seer stopped and spread the cloth flat out on the table. Some of the bones rolled over as the cloth shifted, then stilled. She gestured for Kagome's parents to come closer, then started pointing out different bones.
"This one," she began, indicating one near the top-right corner, "means that the child will be independent… she will most likely stray from some tasks, although through no fault of her own. This cluster right here says that she is not fated to be a dairymaid, a farmer or shepherd's wife…"
"But then, how will she live? How can she get a husband?" Kagome's mother broke in anxiously. Nobody would be interested in marrying someone who was idle...
"She shall not hold any commoner's occupation. She will not be content within any village," The Seer continued as if she had not spoken. "These two, here, that meet at the corners… whether she will marry at all is unforeseen by the Fates. And these five that meet exactly at the sides say…"
Suddenly the Seer stopped and peered at the bones she had pointed out more closely. She was silent for so long that Kagome's parents' started to worry about what could be the matter, but then at last she spoke again. "Her life is indefinite... many have numerous roads that they can follow, but there are only a few open to this child. Clouded, very clouded... oh, this is curious indeed..." She clucked a bit before moving on.
Kagome's parents' faces were also clouded as they looked at each other… clouded with worry. Was their daughter's future really going to be so strange, so uncertain?
The rest of the Seer's words were only half-heard, for in both their minds the cogs were working furiously. And at last, they came to a conclusion.
If the Fates had no future ready for their daughter, then they, her loving parents, would make one for her!
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