Belle hastily moved about her tiny upstairs bedroom at the cottage in the village she had long called home. Her Papa, Maurice, was safe asleep, resting downstairs but still very ill. The events of the previous night clouded her mind as she wearily changed out of her elegant marigold ballgown into her well worn light blue daily dress.
Belle had initially been stunned when the Beast was so understanding to her plight and he had urged her to go to her Papa. She had left the enchanted castle racing away from the wintery landscape in her ballgown and on her trusty horse, Phillippe. She was frightened of the possibility of wolves attacking but then, she heard the roaring of the Beast drifting on the wind, keeping away the wolves. She felt appreciative but at the same time the roars sounded agonizing and mournful. It seemed to her that the wind had twisted the sound into that of a soul dying in the dark of the night. Shuddering at the sorrowful thought, Belle had pushed the illusions of her mind away and kept to the task at hand. The Beast's gift of a magic mirror guided her way to her Papa who had collapsed under a tangle of brambles. Phillippe was an obedient horse and knelt down allowing Maurice to ride in his semiconscious state. Belle lead on foot with reigns in hand with the roaring in the frigid wind fading into the night. The trek through the forest had taken most of the night and by the time they reached their cottage it was far past midnight. Belle had guided Maurice up the stony steps of their cottage and soon he was collapsed on his bed, exhausted.
He coughed with a wet sounding hack from his chest and was unaware of his surroundings. Belle understood all to well that he was notorious for skipping meals as he worked and wondered how long it had been since he had eaten. Belle had felt his brow and it burned with fever. She knew a chest cold was setting in. His clothes were soaked from the snow and Belle had such trouble trying coax her father to help take them off and put on a nightgown and dry knit stockings instead. His feet had been icy to the touch and quickly Belle worked to get the fireplaces roaring. She gathered the four copper bed warming pans from around the house and quickly filled them with coals setting them under his frame. She had to get him warm. She was thankful that their kitchen had an indoor hand pump and soon she was brewing peppermint tea. She went about the kitchen, finding as many dried vegetables and herbs as she could to make a broth and went about cooking that too. Night turned into a grey damp early spring morning and still Belle was determined at warming up the house and coaxing her semiconscious father to sip the tea and soup she had made.
By noon, her Papa had finally slipped into to a restful sleep, no longer coughing as intensely and his fever down. Belle was still in her yellow ballgown from the night before and she decided it was safe to walk upstairs and change into something more practical and warmer. When she had sewn together her overdress years ago, there had been enough fabric for two in the same shade of blue and even a bit for hair accessories. She had left the one at the castle and was glad for the more worn over dress she still had. Belle unbuttoned the golden satin buttons along her spine and peeled away the fine ballgown she had waltzed with Beast in and also saved her Papa in.
She had folded it gently and laid it on her bed, fondly remembering the kindness of everyone at the castle, but most of all, the Beast. He seemed so warm and fun now compared to their abrupt first encounter. It seemed to her that all his hatred and rudeness had been a mask and with time and a good few well-deserved scoldings, that mask had shattered exposing a sad soul who was unsure and afraid of rejection. She chuckled to herself.
"There's such a contrast in him," Belle mused. "Not that his behavior with imprisoning Papa or being so rude to me is excusable." She then thought about the magic atlas and their magical trip to her home of her infancy. There in the dusty Parisian attic, the Beast had apologized for accusing her father as a theif.
" He did express regret," she remembered. "In fact, he seems to do so several times. And it certainly didn't feel like I was a prisoner. In fact, it felt..." Belle furrowed her brow in thought. ""It seemed as though I was being sheltered from the world." She rolled her eyes at her revelation.
" Great," she remarked out loud.
She had heard of prisoners being sympathetic to their captors. She worried that she may be falling victim to it as well. Her thoughts swarmed and swirled as she pulled the long pins from her now messy chestnut curls, carefully unraveling her small half bun.
"But then again, Beast did explicitly say that I am free and thay I haven't been his prisoner for a long time.." she recalled. That confounded her. She knew something about their agreement had changed in the weeks she resided in the enchanted castle, especially after the first night with the violent encounter with the wolves. The Beast had saved her and she in turn returned him to his castle. But, she never could put her finger on the exact terms of her stay. " It felt like a holiday, not a duty."
Belle finished with her hair and began undoing her light petticoat. She was grateful that Madame De Garderobe had not insisted on a heavy petticoat or some immobile wire cage contraption noble ladies where known for. After a month of dressing Belle, the diva had become accustom to her active style and free fluid movements and it challenged her daily dressing designs. Belle pulled out a fresh chemise and slipped on her blue overdress quickly. She laced up the front and still mused about her wanderings through the gardens and peaceful privacy she had received. She kept on her neck the necklace the Beast had given her; a delicate twisting branch made of white gold and dusted with small specks of silver sparkling jewels. She brushed back her hair and pulled it into a sensible low ponytail and examined herself in the old dusty mirror on her dresser. She was surprised. Despite the sleep deprivation of the day, she looked well.
Belle knew she had been happy and well fed at the castle, but there was something else. Her cheeks seemed rosier and her eyes brighter. And her mouth, well, it seemed that even though her face was relaxed, it was upturned in a smile. She then realized her muscles accustom to smiling from over a month of continuous smiles she shared with the staff and Beast. She examined herself harder.
"Even with Papa sick downstairs, I still look better than ever," she marveled. Thinking about the smiles exchanged over stories with the Beast, the laughter they shared over dinner and the general cheer from strolls in the garden, those memories filled her with warmth. Yes; she had known for a long time. She was not a prisoner there in that place of hope; she had stayed because she wanted to.
Belle turned around to face her childhood bed. Even in the darkness of a grey cloudy day, the ballgown seemed to swirl with glitter with golden shimmering swirls.
"Of course it glitters," she thought reaching out to feel its silken softness recalling the gold dust that had sprinkled from the ceiling of her room onto her dress. "It's made from love and magic." The dress was another gift like the mirror like so many other joyous things and memories from the enchanted castle.
Belle gingerly smoothed the creases of her folded lightweight marigold dress on her small bed. It was the most exquisite thing she had ever worn, crafted with the finest lightweight material she had ever felt from Madame De Garderobe's personal fabric stock. It shimmered just so, with multiple layers and gorgeous ruching, yet it did not make the gown heavy or overwhelming. And there was no constricting corset but lovely panels that accentuated her figure and buttoned down the back. The gown glittered gold here and there. It was a piece of fantasy folded up on the reality of the worn taupe color drenched quilt that made her bed.
She sighed.
"A peice of magic from a far off dream; from the timeless domain of the Beast."
Belle had unexpectedly received everything she had hoped for; a collection of books that surpassed her expectations, weeks of wintery fireside readings with her ever-attentive gargantuan friend, and a cheerful house full of wonderful companions that were more than considerate to her thoughts and wishes. Belle had found that her and the Beast had grown in understanding and became fast friends, seeking shelter with one another's company from their own eccentricities. Just hours earlier, they had an extravagant meal and a lovely dance to celebrate finally cleaning the ballroom and bringing it back to it's regal glory. Belle had been so happy.
A pang of guilt seized her breath.
She scolded herself for being so foolishly engrossed in her happiness. While she had been twirling about with the Beast safe in the golden ballroom, her Papa, Maurice, had not been safe. No, Maurice had been combing the woods, searching for a way back to the enchanted castle. She had asked to see her Papa's face in the Beast's magic mirror and it had shown her in it's terrible green metallic glow, her Papa's ashen face, coughing on the forest floor. The image of his frail frame still fresh in her mind brought unwilling tears to her eyes.
Belle shook her head of those dark visions and sniffed back the tears into a hard lump in her throat.
" It's alright now. Papa is safe," she told herself, quickly brushing her cheeks before any tears fell.
She gathered up her thoughts and took a crisp linen apron out her wooden dresser tying it about her waist. There was no time for melancholy; there was work to be done. She went deep into her drawers and found an older navy and gray cloak that needed mending, but would do.
Belle went down the small stairs quietly. She knew how loud they could creak and she did not wish to wake her father. She knew those cottage steps like the back of hand; eight of them- four facing north to her bedroom and four facing west downstairs to the living area. She already had her riding boots on from her dash from the castle and she quietly crept out the door. The fresh cool air hit her face and shocked her to a more awake state. Belle saw Philippe still content to meandering at the front of the cottage absent mindedly chewing on nothing. Belle reached for the reins and gave Philippe appreciative pets on the neck. He was most certainly a good horse. Belle led him to the back stable to brush him down, when she was shocked to find the small attached stable empty.
Their goats, their chickens… they were all gone.
"Did Papa turned them loose before he left? Did he sell them all?" she wondered. " Or did they give up the shelter and wander off for food?"Belle couldn't believe that their small stock of animals was gone. How bad had Papa neglected the house? She recalled that she saw a layer of dust on most of the furniture there but she hadn't been able to inspect it due to the hurry.
No animals. That meant no eggs or goats milk to cook with. The day had now turned to afternoon and Belle was hungery. Belle tried to hurry through the task of brushing Philippe, adding more hay to the trough, changing his water trough and covering him with a toasty blanket for the windy chill. She made up her mind to muck the stalls later since Papa may need tending to. The ground had been frosted over anyways so it would be a more time consuming job. The wind gusted as the looming clouds continued to move over the grey country hills.
" If only I had better timing," she scolded herself. " If it was earlier I could still go to market. But it's so late and with the gloomy weather the vendors are long gone." She could walk over to her neighbor's plot to borrow some goods, but she knew how bogged down that family was with the farmer's wife screeching everyday about the eggs being far too expensive in town. Belle made up her mind to rely on any dried or stored goods she could find in the cellar. Unfortunately, due to her absence, the cellar was not well stocked and most of the items were rotten vegetables from fall. But she was able to find some manageable parsnips, dried herbs, a few potatoes and salted pork and made up her mind to make a more substantial stew. Belle scurried out of the cellar with a basket of her finding and hurried out of the cold into the cottage. The rest of the afternoon she hovered over her sleeping father to check his temperature, change the bed warming irons and administering peppermint tea to his tired lips. He automatically sipped it down but still was not fully awake. Satisfied with his state she tried to make her own food.
The peppermint scent reminded her of the motherly enchanted teapot Ms. Potts and her rambuncious son Chip who was trapped in the form of a teacup. She frowned pitying their sorry cursed state. She wanted to help the castle staff who were trapped within the forms of household items, but right now her Papa needed her help more. She had figured out that the Enchanted rose was a clock of sorts for the curse, counting down to the curse's eventual permanent state, dropping a petal with the passing moments. With each petals withering, Belle had felt quaking of the crumbling castle walls in the West Wing. It was awful on her first night when she didn't know what was going on and had mistaken the rumbling for a fit of rage from Beast. But with enough prodding the staff had filled her in some details.
" Still, it seems as if they are withholding some sort of information that might be important," Belle mused as she chopped the vegetables. Dumping the cutting board's contents into a pot of boiling water she sighed. ""I suppose it might be better this way. After all, there are magic spells involved and the details could cause me to be in danger too. Perhaps I would get turned into a teapot myself. Nope, perhaps a book would be better suite me. Still, it is so vexing! Especially since that rose was losing more and more petals this month. It's like it's withering away to their doom."
Belle groaned. The situation was overwhelming. Magic spells were supposed to be impossible anyways, yet she had lived with it for months now. Belle sighed, pitying the accursed castle residents. Though it seemed that moments of happiness and hope where hard to hold onto, the household seemed to be in good spirits. Instead of despairing, the castle staff seemed to hold onto their memories and hope even more. Belle wished she could share their cheerful unrelenting optimism. It made her feel like the odd man out. She knew the Beast didn't share their cheeriness either and for him it was understandable. Over time, she could tell that he felt responsible for their cursed state and it pained him so.
"But," Belle thought " I suppose that if they all do have a limited time left to live, the staff will enjoy whatever moments they can despite the state their in."
Belle smiled. She knew the Beast was too proud to be completely cheerful as the household, but it still seemd that through his grumpiness, he was still able to find little joys on their shared walks and readings. Stirring the stew, Belle couldn't stop pondering.
"Perhaps it's easier for him to hopeful with an regular and unaffected person like myself. At least someone like me won't be hurt by the curse. For him to connect with the staff, it's like connecting with someone you know is about to pass away."
That revelation left her saddened, thinking of the Beast all alone with the staff's entrapped furniture states forever. But at that point, if their curse wasn't broken, their souls would fade from their household good forms and they would in a sense die. Mrs. Potts, Lumiere and Cogsworth had explain this to her and while she kept a good face around them, she later broke down in the winter gardens mourning their potential fate. It didn't seem right to her to have their cursed shells be used as actual furniture or household items. That would be too cruel. But knowing the Beast better now, Belle wondered if the Beast would bury those poor souls properly if the curse did kill them. Belle walked over from the kitchen to her father's beroom. She checked his temperature and it was still too warm for her liking. She decided that he was in less danger of the cold now and a cool cloth on his brow would do well for him.
"Perhaps a cup of tea for myself as well," she thought, setting a cool damp cloth on his forehead. She moved a kitchen chair to the corner of the bedroom door so that she could keep an eye on him and the stew. Sipping her tea she felt the weight of day melt over her body. It was the first time that she had sat down in hours and her stomach ached.
"At least I ate a rich large meal last night and that carried me far today," she thought feeling her eyes heavy with lack of sleep and stress. "How many hours ago was that?" she wondered. " It felt like the blink of an eye, buts it's late afternoon, so maybe twenty or so hours ago. Almost a full day.. " Her shoulders slouched forward. She gazed at her Papa still pale and drawing labored weak breaths through his sick lungs.
"Gray and gloom here but the castle is warm and cozy. It's funny. It was just the opposite before I left." Belle thought of the exhilarating waltz for those hours ago. An ever petulant peice of hair fell out of place and lingered in front of her eyes. " Beast was so strong. He just spun me about in his arms so easily. It would be nice to get a hug from those warm arms now. I could really use his friendship right now."
Belle felt the tears pool in her eyes. This time, she couldn't stop them. She was too tired and hunger and worried. Her body racked as she quietly let out a sob. She felt so powerless and lonely. She set down the ceramic mug of tea on the floor and hid her burning face in her cold hands.
Thoughts swirled in her mind about the Beast. He had been her Papa's captor. He was the castle staff's curse. And yet, she found herself craving his companionship. He was her dearest friend. There were so many contradictions invested into that one being that made her so happy and comfortable. So many things had changed so quickly. She took I'm deep long breaths of air trying to force herself to be calm.
" Gah! I'm so odd," she stated defeatedly outloud.
Shaking her head, she felt nauseous with melancholy. Or hunger? She had a hard time telling. It was growing dark outside now and she stood up determined to light some lanterns and pour a bowl of stew. She set the stew on the table to cool and went about the cottage lighting some candles in the kitchen and Papa's room. Bringing the stew back to her chair near the doorway and ate its warm contents absentmindedly.
" How did I wind up with so many people needing me?" she wondered. " Papa, the castle...they all need my help." She saw her Papa stir, aware of the candlelight.
"Belle?" His feeble voice sounded. Belle sat up straight. She set the soup down on the dresser and rushed over to sit on the bed.
" But first, Papa," she thought. " Then, I'll be there. I'll be there for you," " the images of the enchanted castle and it's master echoing in her mind helping her smile.
The new Beauty and the Beast Disney Live action remake had renewed my childhood obsession and I can't believe I've caught the fanfic bug. I've been inspired by the fandom across social media and in person and it's is absolutely heartwarming to see it be so active and alive. This fic is a bit of an AU with elements from the original 1991 cartoon movie, the Broadway musical, and the recent 2017 Live film. Somethings have changed and something are the same.
And I would like to thank enchantedxrose on Tumblr for the writing prompt inspiration.
Thank you and I hope you enjoy Reader- SilimaOhtar