I really hope everyone has enjoyed the story so far. There was actually going to be a LONG section that would give Roland's POV when he enters the castle, but I decided to cancel it out for a couple reasons: 1) I wanted the readers to not get the full picture of what occurred that night he went to the castle, at least not right away. This way you the readers, will have to in a sense have to take his word for what he saw, much like the villagers and later Belle. This brings up the reason 2) Roland's POV will be given during a later chapter, and would be kind of weird to just rewrite nearly the same thing twice. So it will work out all right this way. I'm hoping to add the new chapters completely done, but lately I seem to be doing half at a time, which does not also show up as update for the story. I will really try to only upload the finished chapters, so Please bear with me! And pleeeeaaasssseee leave a review or even just a comment! I would love to hear what you think, good or bad! Thank you
Chapter two (5 years later)
Belle gazed out the cottage window at the small town laid out before her. Things were so quiet with the rising sun casting shadows along the shops and houses that lined the dirt street. So it was all start coming alive, with the opening of stores and display carts being rolled out into view. It would be another normal day of selling, trading, and bargaining. It was something like never ending mirror image of every day before, and every day that would follow after, just the basic life in this small town that almost seemed forgotten by the rest of world.
The sunlight was now hitting her eyes, so she pulled away from the window, knowing the view would hardly change from what it was now. It was a market day for her as well, and she was hopeful that the chickens had maintained their skillful production. Already dressed in her well-worn blue dress she grabbed her shawl from the shelf and made her way a crossed the house. It was a simple cottage that had once belonged to a woodcutter. He had built this house along with others building throughout the town, and there was no denying the skill and care he had put into making the structure to provide warmth and comfort. Still it had only been meant to be a sort of temporary living space when they had first come to this place. But that had been almost 2 years ago and honestly she could not complain as it had met all her needs.
There was not much furniture aside from a table with 2 chairs beside a large stone fireplace. There were wooden shelves on nearly every wall, many of them filled with her favorite passion: books, along with a simple set of dishes and cooking pots. A large bed was backed against the wall, and next to it was a tall wooden dresser. The bed was straw filled, but neither her mother nor her father had ever complained. Now it was hers and while she had always had a feather filled bed while growing up in Paris, she felt a great sense of security sleeping under the old sheets that for so long had held that wonderful hint of her parents warm scent.
In the days following her mother's death she had wrapped herself in them, fearful of the day that scent would start disappearing. She knew her beloved Papa had felt the same and, when the fever took a hold of him as well she would watch him laying for hours in that bed, breathing in the sweet scent of honeysuckles and soap. Then 6 months later, having fought the illness for nearly 2 weeks, he was gone as well, leaving Belle with only those sheets to hold on it during the nightmares that would plague her for months.
Shielding her eyes, she headed out the door into the glaring sunrise, and slammed right into what felt like a solid wall. Stunned and nearly knocked to the ground she found herself staring up at what she truly hoped was a figment of her mind. "And Bonjour to you too Belle" Gaston grinned with a cocky tone. "I would say you saved me the trouble of knocking, but then again perhaps not." Blushing with embarrassment, Belle wanted nothing more than to disappear back inside. "Bonjour to you Gaston, now if you'll excuse me please" She spoke quickly, ducking around him and headed towards the back of the cottage where the chicken coop was. Much to her annoyance, Gaston came trailing along behind her, moving in such a way that showed off his thick muscles. It was a walk he had spent years perfecting and it had never failed him till now. Too Belle it was enough to make her stomach turn, as she had grown increasingly tired of these tactics. Reaching the door of the coop she whipped around to face him.
"Gaston I really do not have time for this today. I need to get these eggs gathered and to Monsieur Turner or he'll by them from someone else." Clearly not taking her hint of tone, Gaston merely rolled his eyes. "Belle, you really should just...well give it up." Picking up the straw basket hanging on a hook by the door, Belle flashed him a puzzled look. "Give up what?" "This fantasy you're living in day after day. Staying all closed up in this shack with those books of yours. You need to get that pretty head of yours out of the clouds, get your feet back on the ground and find yourself a husband who can help keep you there." Belle was no stranger to this speech of his, as she had heard it several times before, and while her initial reaction was no longer one filled with screaming anger (as that had proven pointless) she still couldn't keep her disgust completely hidden away.
Even so Gaston continued to ramble on, as though she had somehow encouraged him. "The whole town is talking about you Belle and it's not flattering. They all remember how crazy your father was and that is what they are going to start thinking about you." Belle tightened her grip on the baskets handle to the point it almost snapped in two. "Oh and let me guess Gaston, you're going to be that wonderful saving grace of a man, who will carry me away to a joyful world of marriage?" Her eyes burned dagger at his while she spoke this, mentally daring him to speak ill of her father again.
Gaston shook his head, while pushing back his silky black hair. He was dressed in his normal hunting attire, which greatly accented his well built form. He had clearly been on his way to the woods before making a detour for this friendly little chat. He had made many of these pleasant stops over the past few months and while he wasn't really interested in courting this lost little lamb of a woman, he had somewhat made it his unofficial calling in life to be the most desired man in all of France. He may very well have achieved that goal, and Belle not been far wiser than most. "I don't know what you think you're going to do Belle. You can't really expect this lifestyle of yours to just go on forever." Without a another word he finally turned and strolled his way towards the woods, leaving Belle standing there, glaring a look of pure anger. Just forget him, she thought.
The egg gathering invention had been the last of her father's creations. It now sat abandoned and rusted behind the chicken coop. A silent tribute to several months of work, completely gone to waste. The failure of this invention had been the last pull on her father's already fragile state and it took a great toll on his sanity. He had already been blaming himself for her mother's illness and had wanted so badly to prove himself. Belle had never blamed him, not even once.
The day they left Paris for the fair her mother had been so excited to finally get to accompany her husband as he showed his prized work. She could still see her mother smiling and her father looking so proud. It had been on the 2nd day of the journey than the fever had struck, forcing them to stop in this village and seek housing in this cottage. Her mother would be fine, her father had said, over and over again, trying to convince not only her but him as well.
"Oh Papa" She whispered to himself as she stepped inside the coop. "I wish you had been right." The chickens had awakened at her arrival and now clucked happily at the presence of the one who would provide them with breakfast. Opening the sack against the wall she threw several handfuls of corn out the door. The chickens moved like a fast flapping feather cloud and pounced on the feed. Belle moved quickly now gathering the eggs with equal speed.
She had heard many wicked stories of hands being fiercely pecked from others who dealt in egg gathering, but these chickens had never been a problem. Maybe it was due to their fear of her father's invention which had had a nasty tendency to gather feathers rather than eggs, but regardless they still remained the only source of income she had, and in a strange way her only real company. Well aside from Phillip, the gentlest horse and just as powerful. He had been a close companion to Belle and most importantly, never judged her.
The market had truly come alive as Belle made her way down the street, but to her the village seemed only a place where she felt more alone than ever. The people of the town had not been what one might call welcoming in any way, since her family had first arrived there. Perhaps the sight of her father's wood cutting contraption which had a number of sharp axes attached had been slightly intimidating. It might even have been the way her family had always tried to be friendly towards anyone, while the people here seemed too take into careful consideration just who they deemed worthy of their friendship. It would appear that Belle had clearly fallen short of their expectations.
This had not, however been any result of her own doing. What did they honestly expect from a girl, who had watched her father slowly lose his mind? Once her mother was gone, her father had refused to return to their home and despite her attempts to intervene, he had sent notice that their house and belonging be sold. She had seen him destroy the wood cutter and then grow more crazed to prove his inventions had not been a mistake from the start. He spent months trying to create the most amazing invention ever and in the end, only succeeded in driving himself to the brink of despair and making himself venerable to the illness that had already claimed her mother. The villagers had hardly withheld their judgments at the state her father at been in, and it had not taken long for him to become the joke of the town. She could remember walking down the street to the doctors, with her father fighting her the whole, entire way. Belle had been the sneers worn by all who watched them and now she could see the same looks again being directed at herself.
Looking around she noticed she was walking by the bookshop, and could see the book keeper himself carefully dusting off and straightening the towering shelves packed of her favorite thing in the world; books. Sadly even the book keeper, who had always been a very kindly man had acted distant towards Belle in the beginning. However the discovery of her love for reading had created something of a common thread between them and while they were still hardly close friends, it was a winning situation for them both.
The books that he could supply provided her with the prefect escape from all her sorrows of life, and this place, even if it was just for a little while. The reward for him was she had become his best customer in a town where books were held with very little regard of important. Had Belle not already been rushed, she would have been glad to stop and browse, but time was not in her favor and she had to hurry on by.
Continuing down the road, she caught sight of someone half hidden in the shadows between two buildings. There she could see him sitting there, with his eyes cast downward, his clothes looking more ragged than a few days before. His hair was white as cotton, and very untidy, blowing around his face, keeping most of his facial features concealed. Who he was, Belle had no idea, but it had not gone unnoticed that he had always had been one soul who hadn't sent taunting looks her way. He appeared as though he had gone through far more than his share of bad luck and had, more than likely been yet another victim of the town's ways.
The idea of leaving had come to her many times, and yet it still wasn't as easy as just going. Even If she were to take Philippe and go, the question remained, where could she go? There was no family anywhere and the money from her old house and anything that was sold with it had been spent either on her father's attempts to redeem himself, or on the medicines used to try and save his life.
The money made off of the chickens eggs was enough for her to get by, but there was little else for her to do. Then again she could always dream, and it really was like a wonderful fantasy of her mind to head out into the world and take a journey to some distance land, and then spend the rest of her days living one adventure after another. She stole a glance back at the old man and couldn't help but wonder if he had ever had the same dream as her, and yet also was trapped with no way out.