"I wouldn't go that way, if I were you."
Belle turned back in her saddle, spotting a middle-aged couple and a wagonload of children up along the main trail. "Oh, um, why not?" she asked, staring back at the dark path before her. It did look a bit shadowy and somewhat…abandoned, perhaps, but that hadn't been enough to discourage her.
"Don't you know anything, girl?" the husband called down to her. "That part of the forest is forbidden. Cursed, by the devil himself!"
"…Really," Belle replied, raising a brow.
"King Victor's own orders, not a decade ago. Surely you knew?"
Belle only shrugged. "I don't come by this way much, monsieur," she explained, sighing. "I suppose I better turn around then."
The man huffed in agreement, though his wife smiled down to her. "Need help finding your way, dear?" she asked kindly, a small child waving from her lap.
Belle smiled. "No, I should be all right. Merci!" she waved back, waiting as the family and their wagon disappeared along the trail. As soon as they had, she nudged Philippe forward on the dark path. The horse looked back at her irritably, eyes dancing towards the main road up above before staring back at her.
"We're not going back there yet, Philippe," she told him cheerfully, giving him a small kick.
A strange look of disapproval crossed the animal's face as he remained defiantly in place.
"Oh, I know I fibbed a bit. But if there's some strange overlord living in these woods…I have a feeling a 'cursed forest' is exactly where he'd be," she grinned.
Philippe huffed loudly, but finally obeyed, moving reluctantly into the forbidden forest.
"But should we really be so dismissive of outsiders, Cogsworth?"
"What could you possibly mean?" the clock huffed.
"I mean…how else is the master to meet a girl?" the candle asked earnestly. "He's twenty now. There isn't much time left."
"Lumiere, do you really still think that's going to happen at this point—" He stopped, cogs whirling anxiously as a large presence entered the room. "M-Master!" he said, wringing two brass hands together as the Beast approached.
"At ease, Cogsworth. You'll wind yourself up too tight one of these days if you can't relax," his master said offhandedly, leaning against the window frame and looking out over the forest, the early morning sunlight cascading over the changing leaves.
Lumiere cleared his throat, hopping over beside the Beast quietly. "Master, I was just telling Cogsworth that perhaps we should reconsider our, eh, closed-door policy." The master looked back at him, raising one large, furry brow. "I mean, perhaps if that man were to ever return, we could see if he knows any, um…" Lumiere paused, realizing the uncomfortable topic he'd breeched. "You know, any—"
"Women?" the Beast finished for him. Lumiere smiled a little sheepishly, but the master only rolled his eyes as he padded over towards the fire. "And what am I to say? Oh by the way, monsieur, if you know any young ladies with a bestiality complex, please send them my way," he mocked sarcastically. In response, a quiet snort could be heard from one of the coat racks in the corner. Cogsworth glared in that direction, hollow eyes narrowing in disapproval. The Beast didn't seem to notice, not even laughing at his own jab as he leaned against the mantle and stared into the flames.
"I'm going to the stables," he huffed a minute later, shoving his paws into his pockets before moving quietly out of the room.
Outside, the autumn air was brisk and refreshing, and the Beast filled his large lungs with it as he padded quietly towards the barn. He tried to focus on the feeling of the wind in his fur, the forest leaves floating over the outer wall, anything but the tightness in his chest that never seemed to go away. Soaking in the reds and oranges around him, he nearly missed the spot of blue near the gates. Glancing over, he saw an auburn horse and a rider in a long, dark cloak. Before he could react, the man pulled back his hood, flowing brown hair falling around his should—
The Beast froze, eyes growing wide. That was no man.
Oh, Dieu. It's happening to me too, he thought anxiously, sprinting back on all fours to the castle and taking refuge in the kitchens.
"Master! What in heaven's name," Mrs. Potts started, hopping beside him. "You look like you've seen a ghost."
"I'm hallucinating," he said under his breath, not daring to look behind him as he pressed his back against the kitchen door. "M-Mrs.…Mrs. Potts, I believe I'm going mad."
"Going—oh nonsense," she chuckled. "I do beg your pardon, but are you sure you're not being a tad dramatic, my lord?"
"But didn't...didn't my mother see things, before she…" he trailed off, breaking out in a nervous sweat as he pressed himself against the door, squeezing his eyes shut.
Mrs. Potts looked suddenly nervous herself, though she continued calmly. "Just try to breathe, love. It was probably just a trick of the light, that's all."
The Beast shook his head. "No, no I saw—I swear I saw—"
"A girl!" a small voice shouted. They both looked over, little Chip peeking out the window before smiling back at them. "Mama, there's a human girl outside—just like in my picture books!"
The room suddenly filled with cries of alarm and excitement as dozens of dishes, cups, spoons, and every other mobile item in the vicinity rolled towards the window for a peek. The master found himself frozen in place, unbreathing as they all confirmed what he'd seen with cries of joy.
"W-what do I—what do I do?!" he cried, the relief that he hadn't imagined the woman suddenly overpowered by the fact that she was really there.
"Well, go talk to her!" someone exclaimed, to the fervent agreement of the others.
"O-okay," he agreed, sucking in a determined breath before groaning. "Talk to her? Look at me! I'll just scare her off—"
"Hello?" a pleasant voice rang out, much closer than expected. "Is anyone there?"
"Oh, sacre Dieu," the Beast swore, tugging at the roots of the fur atop his head. As the footfalls outside moved closer, he swallowed roughly, gathering up all the courage he could muster before brushing off his jacket and moving slowly out the door—to the silent cheers of the kitchen staff.
He paused in his tracks as he spotted her, several paces away. She had dismounted the horse, currently focused on loosening the saddle from around the animal's belly. The Beast couldn't help but stare—she was extremely thin, cheeks sunk in as if she hadn't eaten well in weeks. However, her face was flushed with exercise and he couldn't help but think she was the most beautiful sight he'd ever seen.
Calm down, he told himself. You're just not used to seeing humans—
His thoughts were interrupted as the horse spotted him, neighing sharply and kicking its legs in a violent fear. The girl looked up, eyes growing wide as she covered her mouth in shock.
"B-Bonjour," he called out quickly. She'd already mounted the horse again, but turned back suddenly when he spoke.
"You can—" She stopped, still backing the steed up several paces but not taking her eyes off him. "I-I'm sorry. I believe, perhaps, I'm hallucinating," she said nervously, knuckles growing white as she gripped the reigns tightly.
The master might have laughed, had it not been such nerve-wracking encounter—to think he'd had the same reaction when seeing her. "I'm afraid you're not hallucinating," he said instead, with some uneasiness. He lifted a paw to rub the back of his neck, but stopped when she flinched, pulling the horse back another few paces. "Sorry," he said quickly, lowering his arm and holding his paws behind his back in an attempt to appear less threatening. "Can I—can I help you, mademoiselle?"
She stared at him for a long moment, mouth opening and closing before opening again to reply. "To be honest…I was looking for the overlord. I believe my father received a generous gift from him."
"I'm the master here," the Beast answered absently, before his mouth fell open. "Wait—that was your father?"
"That was you?" she breathed in shock. "No wonder Papa wouldn't…" She trailed off, and to the Beast's surprise was suddenly dismounting the horse and falling to one knee. "We—we owe you a great debt, my lord," she said, head bowed low. "And I am here to repay it."
The master cringed in discomfort. "Oh, no…I mean," he started, digging a foot in the wet grass. "It was a gift. You—you don't owe me anything—"
"I could serve as a stable hand," she went on, looking back up.
He raised his brows in surprise. "You?"
She stood again, cocking her head at him. "I know I don't look it, but I know what I'm doing," she said firmly. "I'm a farmer's daughter, and I've cared for horses my entire life."
"O-of course, I didn't mean—" the Beast stopped, overwhelmed by her offer. He should insist it was unnecessary, should tell her the donation was no trouble, but he also knew this may be the only chance he had. No, it would be the only chance he had, that much was certain. It was a slim gamble at best, and he couldn't help but wonder if it wouldn't be worse to raise false hopes instead of simply sending the girl away now.
He glanced back at the castle, full of the people he felt responsible for. A terrible guilt tugged at his chest at his own pessimism. He couldn't give up on them that easily, could he?
"…We could use your help, to be honest," he agreed at last. "I…I would be grateful for your service."
To his surprise, she smiled. He felt his cheeks growing warm, for the first time in his life thankful his face was covered in fur so she couldn't see him blushing. He shook his head. "However," he added quickly. "You must agree to one thing."
She furrowed her brows, though the smile didn't leave her eyes.
"You must make a promise not to divulge the secrets of this castle," he said seriously, realizing there was no way she could spend so much time here without discovering the truth about the others.
Her eyes grew bright. "Secrets?" she asked curiously. "You mean, besides…" she trailed off, realizing her mistake.
"Me?" he asked, raising a brow.
She looked a bit sheepish, but just nodded.
"Yes. I'm not the only strange thing about this place," he said, surprised by his own openness. He cleared his throat. "In that case, do you…agree?"
She nodded again. "Yes, I agree. You have my word."
He stared at her for a long moment, still completely perplexed by the oddity of it all. He was so lost in thought he didn't realize they'd been sitting in silence for nearly a minute.
"So…" she continued at last, looking almost…amused. "Should I just—"
"Ah! Yes. Um, let me show you the stables," he said dumbly, clearing his throat as he moved across the field, trying to stop his heart from pounding in his chest. He heard her horse huffing irritably as the girl followed.
"Quiet, Philippe," she said under her breath. "Be polite."
The Beast suddenly realized he hadn't asked a crucial question. He stopped, glancing behind him. "My apologies…but I don't know your name."
"It's Belle," she said simply.
Belle, he repeated in his mind. Beautiful. It certainly seemed fitting.
"And yours, my lord?" she continued.
The master swallowed roughly; he hadn't gone by his name in years. It didn't seem to belong to him anymore. "I…don't have one," he said quietly.
"But you must have a—"
"I don't have one," he repeated, feeling strangely upset. "Not anymore."
She narrowed her eyes, but didn't press the issue further. Something told him, however, it wasn't the last he'd hear of it.
As they entered the stables, a few brushes and buckets lay scattered haphazardly along the ground, their human occupants no doubt surprised at the sudden guest. He heard a bucket rolling along the ground in the back.
Belle frowned, squinting into the shadows. "Is there no one else here?" she asked in confusion.
"Mmm, well that's the thing," he started, unsure how to broach the subject. After a moment, he decided a direct approach was probably best at this point. "It's all right," he called to the seemingly empty barn. "You can show yourselves."
He sensed the girl glance at him strangely before gasping in alarm. Brushes slowly rose off the ground, rakes rising from their places against the wall, a bucket falling onto its side and rolling towards them. Deep voices rang from the assorted objects as they each gave bows in their own way.
"My lord."
"Master."
The Beast heard several quiet whispers of surprise, but ignored them as he turned to Belle. She was staring wide-eyed at the scene, mouth ajar in utter shock.
"This is the stable crew," the Beast explained a little awkwardly, clearing his throat as he began the introductions. "André, Damien, Juste," he started, naming off of few more of them before pointing to the bucket at his feet. "And this is Aimé."
"Master! Who's this?" the object asked, the voice of a teenager ringing from the hollow object.
"This is Belle," he answered. "She's offered to help us with the animals for a while."
The excitement in the barn was palpable, several of the stable hands moving towards the young woman and introducing themselves personally. Belle took it all with impressive graciousness, though she seemed even paler by the end than when she'd seen the Beast.
"All right—everyone back to work," an old rake huffed, motioning for the others to follow him back to their workstations.
"I…I understand now what you meant by secrets," Belle said quietly, swaying a bit on her feet as she reached for the wall.
The Beast suppressed a smile. "I'm afraid that's only a few of them, mademoiselle."
Belle looked out the barn door, eyes scanning the castle as if finally taking in its enormity. "Oh."
The master groaned. He should have known coming to the kitchens was a bad idea.
Belle had barely stepped a foot in the door when the room erupted in excitement, several dozen objects swarming her and pulling her into the warm room.
"Bonjour!"
"Mademoiselle, welcome!"
"I told you she was pretty—"
"Come, come! There's room here by the fire—"
"My dear, you're half-starved! Someone roll over to the pantry and tell the boys to slice into that summer sausage—"
"Isn't she lovely?"
"Goodness, travelling all this way without a bite to eat?"
"Make way, make way—let her sit, for heaven's sake—"
"—and a spot of warm tea will go nicely with—"
"Sit here, mademoiselle. I don't mind!"
"No, sit here, my cushions are much nicer—"
"Auguste, throw another log in the pit, she'll catch her death!"
"Master?"
The Beast was watching as Belle fell out of sight behind the crowds as more servants spilled in from the hall and rolled out of the cupboards. It seemed everyone was trying to get as close as possible, offering her an assortment of treats and hot beverages and covering her shoulders with several heavy blankets despite it having barely turned to autumn.
"My lord."
He was starting to grow anxious, but stopped when a new, pleasant laugh rang out from amid the commotion. The Beast felt the corner of his mouth curling up at the sound.
"Master…if you wouldn't mind?"
He shook his head, looking down at Mrs. Potts who stared pointedly at the wide open door beneath his paw as it let the cool afternoon air into the room. "Ah, sorry," he mumbled, shutting it quickly behind him and staying out of everyone's way in the shadows.
Since clearly, no one had any intention to serve him at the moment.
It took nearly three hours for Cogsworth to get enough of them cleared out that Belle could escape.
"My apologies for the staff," the master said uncomfortably as they emerged back into the early evening air. "It's been a while since we've seen a—" He swallowed. "Well, since we've had a guest."
"Hmm?" she said absently, in somewhat of a happy daze as she acknowledged him. "Oh, it's no trouble, my lord. Actually, I've never felt so welcomed," she said, moving to untie Philippe as they returned to the stables. The Beast stayed back several long paces, still anxious not to frighten her. Though he had to admit, she was certainly proving more unshakable than she appeared.
"You're…welcome to stay for dinner," he said belatedly, noticing again her thin arms as she fastened the saddle over the animal. He frowned, feeling suddenly responsible and wondering what kind of condition the village had fallen into since he was a boy.
"That's all right, my lord," she replied. "Papa left me some of the money you gave him. I should be able to eat well now," she said gratefully. "Besides, with him gone, I'm the only one left to tend to our home."
"Gone…?" the Beast asked curiously.
"He's taken my mother to Paris, Master. To see a physician."
"Oh, right. That's good," the Beast said sincerely. "I hope…I hope she recovers."
Belle nodded slowly, before clasping her hands together and bowing deeply. "I can't tell you how grateful I am," she said, voice suddenly hollow as though she were holding back tears. "I will do my best to serve you, but I know nothing I do can make up for your generosity."
Her sudden formality shocked him for a moment. He shook his head. "It's really all right. I would hate to see anoth—to see someone lose a mother," he said quietly, swallowing the lump in his throat.
She looked over at him, curiosity seeming to leak from her eyes as they searched his. Seeming to think the better of it—or perhaps too exhausted to inquire that evening—she sighed and pulled herself up Philippe's side.
"Will you—" He paused as she turned back, looking at his feet. Her beauty still overwhelmed him, and he doubted he would get past it anytime soon. "Are you sure you'll make it back safely? It's not a short ride to the village," he finished, glancing back up at her.
Belle's eyes softened. "Don't worry, I'll be all right. Until tomorrow, my lord," she said, giving Philippe a small kick and taking off quickly out the entrance.
The Beast moved towards the gates, securing them for the evening and watching as the spot of blue disappeared into the thick trees. He furrowed his brows, lips curling up in utter bewilderment at everything that had happened.
Don't get your hopes up. You're still a terrifying monster, remember? he told himself, though he couldn't help but smile at how quickly Belle seemed to accept him and the rest of the enchanted household. In fact, she seemed to be bursting with intrigue at it all, though he sensed some shyness had stopped her from asking too many questions.
It wasn't long before that shyness was entirely gone.
"Good morning, Master Béranger," she said brightly the next morning, already in the stables brushing down a painted mare.
"Béranger?" the Beast repeated, frowning in confusion at her greeting.
"Well, since you won't tell me your name, I figured I'd have to start guessing," she shrugged, setting down the brush and grabbing a pick as she started cleaning out the horse's hooves.
His frown deepened as he thought of the root of the name. "Do you…do you think I'm part bear?" he asked incredulously.
She didn't take her eyes of her work. "Well…are you?" she asked casually.
"N—no," he said firmly. "I'm a—" He stopped as he noticed her looking at him expectantly, hazel eyes dancing in the morning light. He looked away. "Never mind. I'll be here for some time if you need anything," he said, feeling his cheeks burning yet again as he moved towards his favorite horse at the far end of the barn. The animal greeted him with familiarity, and he let it nuzzle against his shoulder.
"Isn't this exciting?" someone spoke. He looked down to see one of the brushes dancing over the stallion's coat beside him.
The Beast, embarrassed, glanced back where Belle was working. He turned back to the servant beside him. "Yes, I suppose," he admitted quietly. "But…to be honest, Damien, I don't really know what I'm doing."
"I suppose you've never had the chance to interact with the ladies, right m'lord?" the brush replied.
The master frowned. "Thank you for the reminder," he replied dryly.
"You should talk to Lumiere! He knows all about that kind of thing," the brush went on, finishing his task and scooting along to the next animal.
The Beast wrinkled his nose. As much as he trusted Lumiere, something told him getting courting advice from the candlestick would not be his best route.
"Mademoiselle, it is an honor—such an honor," a familiar voice rang out from behind him. "I do not feel we have been properly introduced—Monsieur Lumiere, at your service."
The master shook his head in chagrin. Speak of the devil, and he shall appear, he recalled, watching with discomfort as Lumiere planted a waxy kiss on the girl's hand for far longer than the once-prince deemed appropriate.
"And what are you doing cooped up in here?" Lumiere asked her, in apparent shock.
"Oh, well I'm supposed to be—"
"It's a beautiful day!" Lumiere went on. "The splendors of autumn will not last long. You mustn't miss it my dear, mustn't miss it."
"I guess I could take a walk during lunch," she mused.
"Heavens no, that won't do. You must take this very mare and go up to Abel's Peak—that's where you'll see the best views. Breathtaking, like nothing you've ever seen before, I assure you."
"Really?" Belle asked, sounding much more eager than before.
"I swear to it," Lumiere agreed, clearly thrilled at his success. "In fact, our master knows these grounds better than anyone—I'm sure he would be happy to show you the way."
It took considerable force for the Beast not to face palm on the spot. Could he be less subtle? he grimaced, wondering if Lumiere had any familiarity with the term.
"Oh," Belle said nervously. "I wouldn't want to impose on anyone…"
Reluctantly, the master realized it was time to intervene. Of course she wouldn't want to be alone in the woods with a monster like me, he thought. He couldn't blame her. "Lumiere, I'm sure Belle will think on the matter," he said more gruffly than he meant to, stopping several paces away from them and giving the candlestick the side eye.
"Thank you, monsieur," Belle added politely, bowing shallowly to the small object as he hopped away, clearly believing himself victorious. Belle was quiet, unmoving as she stared at the side of the mare. "I'm not afraid," she said at last, so softly the Beast wasn't quite sure he'd heard her correctly.
"Pardon?"
"I'm not afraid of you, Master," she repeated, brushing absent fingers over the horse's coat. "I've seen how you won't come close. I just—I wanted to tell you I'm not afraid. And, well…" She finally turned towards him, meeting his eyes. "I'm sorry for how I first reacted."
The Beast stared back for a long moment. "I…it's all right," he said quietly. "You have every right to be afraid. I'm…well, I'm certainly not a common sight," he finished, looking away in shame and missing the small frown that passed over Belle's face.
They were quiet for a heartbeat before she spoke again. "Is…is the view as nice as he says?" she prodded.
He looked up. "It is," he answered honestly. Lumiere might be prone to exaggeration, but it was difficult to overstate the beauty of the valley in autumn. "I could…" He cleared his throat. "I could escort you there, I mean, i-if you wanted—"
"Only if it's not too much trouble," she said eagerly.
Though he'd been to the peak dozens of times, her enthusiasm was contagious. The Beast felt himself smile. "It's no trouble at all."
"I'm afraid I'm not doing a very good job so far repaying you."
The Beast glanced over when she spoke. Belle sat on the edge of the cliff, one leg hanging over the edge as the other was pulled against her chest, chin resting atop it as she gazed with bright eyes into the colorful valley below. Despite her apology, her expression showed little remorse at the excursion.
"It's all right—the horses haven't had a rider in a couple years now," he said belatedly, digging his bare toes—claws really—in the rough gravel where he stood. "This is doing her good," he continued, motioning to the mare tied to an old stump several paces away.
"Oh, so you had another stable hand before?"
"Mmm, no," he said uncomfortably, moving to the cliff side slowly before taking a seat a couple paces away from her. "I simply grew too…large, to ride anymore."
"Only a couple years ago?" she asked in surprise, finally tearing her eyes away from the trees below to look at him. She was quiet for a long moment. "Master…how old are you?"
"Twenty."
Her mouth fell open. "Really? I thought you were—" She stopped suddenly, biting her lip.
Unoffended, he glanced over in some amusement. "How old did you think I was?"
She shrugged. "A—a little older," she admitted vaguely, cheeks suddenly pink.
"…And you?" he asked a moment later, equally curious as he was suddenly nervous she was younger than she appeared.
"Eighteen," she smiled, looking at him curiously for a moment. "Huh," she went on quietly, looking back over the forest. They sat in silence for a long minute before she spoke again. "Are any of the others our age?" she asked at last.
The master shook his head, though his heart skipped a beat at her words. Our age. Like they were part of something, together. He smiled a little stupidly, feeling a new kind of camaraderie with her as he went on. "Most of the servants were adults when—" He stopped suddenly, realizing how much he'd already given away.
"When…?" she asked innocently.
The Beast frowned. "You're trying to get information out of me, aren't you?" he asked bluntly.
She bit her lip to hide a grin. "You catch on faster than most, Master Loup."
"I'm not a wolf either," he muttered.
"You know, this all seems very familiar," she went on, a finger to her chin as she ignored him. "Like a tale told in the village…something about an enchanted castle, and a rose, was it? Should've stayed for the end…" she mused to herself.
"A rose?" he asked in shock. "Have—have you been snooping around the West Wing?"
"No," she replied honestly. Her eyes brightened with curiosity. "What's in the West Wing?"
"…Never mind. Where did you hear this?"
She shrugged. "From an old storyteller in the village. She comes every few years with a new tale or two—"
"What did she look like?" he interrupted anxiously.
"Not to be unkind, but…" Belle paused. "Well, she's quite old, and heavily wrinkled. I haven't ever gotten a good look at her, though."
"Oh," the Beast breathed, the beautiful but terrifying face of the enchantress flashing in his mind. "All right. Perhaps it's just a coincidence."
"Is it true, then?" she asked. "Is the castle really enchanted?"
"Belle…" he deadpanned, raising a brow. "The plates move."
She laughed in some embarrassment. "I know, I know. It's just—it's so strange that such things could be real. Spells, enchantresses…"
The master stiffened visibly, claws digging into the soft earth where they sat, the memory of red, vengeful eyes flashing in his mind. He felt himself beginning to sweat, trying to swallow the sudden lump in his throat.
Belle went immediately silent. "My lord…I'm so sorry, did I say something—"
"It's getting late. You shouldn't travel home in the dark," he said blankly, trying to bury the old anger in his chest as he stood. She followed him slowly, mounting the mare and letting him guide the animal back down the trail.
The journey back was made in silence.
Amid regrets at his cold response to Belle that afternoon and the resurrected memories swarming his thoughts, the master did not sleep well that night.
"P-please…let me go…"
The witch's nails dug into Adam's flesh as she hauled him along, his feet barely skimming the floors as they swept through the palace. He glanced around anxiously, not a soul in sight as they moved through the dark corridors. Objects lay in disarray, as if forgotten by their owners. The prince wondered in horror if they'd all been dissolved in thin air like his guards. That is, until he noticed a feather duster skirting along the carpet beside them.
He gasped, but couldn't react further as the enchantress stopped suddenly before his father's study. She stared at the closed door, nose wrinkling in momentary disgust before her expression softened. She looked down at him. "Shall we teach your traitorous father a lesson tonight, child?"
Adam's eyes grew wide as he stared at the door. He wanted to cry out, to warn his father, but his chest was pulsing in such fear that the words wouldn't come. Ignoring his panic, the witch pushed open the door.
Beside the fire, the King sat in an armchair, focused on the tome in his lap. He looked up suddenly at the intrusion, fury burning in his eyes at the sight of the woman who filled the doorway.
"You," he snarled, throwing the book aside and reaching for the blade at his belt.
"Uh uh uh," she tut-tutted, yanking Adam into the room beside her. "I wouldn't try that again, dear Alexandre."
"P-Papa," the boy finally managed, voice shaking as he fought back tears.
The witch crouched down suddenly, sweeping her fingers over the prince's face. "Dear child, don't cry," she crooned, letting her sharp nails drag across his neck. "As long as your Papa cooperates, I'll let you live."
"L-leave him out of this," the king said in fear, tearing frantic eyes from his son to stare in loathing at the intruder. "He has nothing to do with this!"
"Oh, you're quite mistaken," the witch replied, eyes growing dark as she stood again, towering over the man before her. "He has everything to do with this."
"Ugh," the Beast grumbled, pushing the memories away and uncurling from his position before the hearth. He'd abandoned his bed years ago—sharp claws and bedding didn't mix well, apparently, and he seemed to find the rug beside the fire much more comfortable as it was.
He frowned. I really am an animal. It was a thought that came again and again, like a dull, constant stab to his chest. Growling in frustration, he stood tiredly and moved into the dark castle in pursuit of the only thing that could ever distract him.
The library was dark, but for the dim glow of a dying fire. Though most of his senses were heightened in his current form, the Beast's eyes remained human—a fact which, at one time, had given him some comfort. He thought little of it now, however, besides to wonder if the added night vision wouldn't have been worth giving up the blue orbs that only reminded him of who he would never be again—
I'm spiraling, he realized abruptly, trying to stop what he knew to be a dangerous inner monologue. The darkness always made it worse, the quiet castle full of sleeping servants only enabling his mind to run away with itself. He looked around at the shelves of texts, wishing one of them might tell him how to make the knots in his chest go away. But from his knowledge of the library, such advice didn't exist.
Instead, he moved to the bookshelf near the hearth where he kept his favorite volumes, reaching for a novel that nearly fell apart in his paws. This he knew could at least distract him…even if it couldn't fix him.
Belle rode slowly through the gates the next morning, still feeling awful. It hadn't taken much contemplation on the way back the day before to realize her mistake—of course bringing up whatever enchantment had befallen the master would make him upset. It had made him…whatever he was, after all. He probably didn't appreciate the reminder.
Papa had always encouraged her to ask questions, to seek truth—that's part of why she read so much, and probably the main reason everyone in town thought her a little strange. But she was now realizing that, perhaps, some questions could hurt. She swallowed roughly as she led Philippe into the stables, determined to work extra hard that day to make up for it.
By late afternoon, she had cared for each of the dozen horses in the stable, cleaned the entire barn, and taken three of them out for long rides through the forest trails surrounding the castle. Cheeks flushed and heart pounding, she was leading the third horse back when she spotted a large figure tucked against an oak tree near the palace walls.
The Beast sat in the shade, leaning lazily against the trunk. He held a book in his hands, sweeping a page aside with the tip of one large finger. It was difficult to read his expression, though from what she could tell he seemed almost…peaceful. It was rather a strange juxtaposition to his fearsome figure.
"What are you reading?" she asked without thinking. She suddenly grimaced, wanting to smack herself. "Sorry, I ask too many questions," she backpedaled in haste, moving away. Have you learned nothing? she reprimanded herself. He's obviously enjoying his time alone. Sacrebleu, it's no wonder no one likes you in town—
"It's fine, I don't mind," the Beast said quickly. She looked back, watching as he stood and brushed a few dry leaves from his clothes. "Here," he said kindly, holding the book out to her. Unable to resist, she took it excitedly and opened it to the title page.
Her eyes brightened further as she looked up at him. "I've never seen this book before," she breathed, looking back down and turning carefully through the next few pages with a kind of reverence.
"Really? It's one of my favorites," he answered honestly.
"You…you like to read, my lord?" she asked in surprise.
The Beast nodded. "It's…well, it's the only thing that lets me, um…"
"…escape," she finished quietly, glancing back down at the book in her hands.
When she looked back up, he was staring at her, fanged mouth hanging open a bit. "Yes," he breathed belatedly. "Yes, exactly." Seeming to come to himself again, he cleared his throat, gesturing to the novel in her hands. "…You can borrow it, if you like."
"Oh! I couldn't, Master," she said quickly. "You're in the middle of it, I can wait until you're—"
"Take it," he insisted. "I've read it a dozen times. I'd…I'd like to know what you think," he said, scratching the back of his head as he looked away.
"You would?" she asked, gazing down at the faded blue-covered novel. "No one's ever cared what I think about…" she trailed off, hugging the book to her chest as she nodded. "Thank you," she said sincerely, giving a short bow before pulling the stallion back towards the barn. She hurried to ready Philippe for the journey home, chest flooding with excitement for a night curled up with a new story.
Little did she know, she wasn't the only one feeling a warmth in their chest.
A/N - Big thanks to my first reviewers, SamoaPhoenix9, Mage, and So-crates Johnson! And to those who have followed/faved. xoxo
