Chapter 9 – A Gilded Cage
Alix had fallen asleep in the library; a circumstance that occurred so often that it no longer occasioned any comment from the servants. She had curled up in her favorite chair and, with her tail tucked up against her legs and looked like nothing so much as a contented cat—a very large, very intimidating contented cat. She also had a cat's temper and tendency to hate being woken up when she was comfortable, which was why Lumiere and Cogsworth were lurking in the doorway instead of going to speak to her.
"Are you sure that this is worth waking the mistress up for?" Cogsworth asked worriedly.
"The boy has not stirred since seven last night," Lumiere answered. "It's nearly noon now. What if he is sick?"
""The mistress is still asleep too!" Cogsworth protested. "Why should there be different rules for Her Grace and her guest?"
"Because," Lumiere said patiently, "Escalion saw her fall asleep at three in the morning." Escalion was the librarian's assistant and now took the form of a small, rolling staircase who was invaluable to anyone trying to reach a book that was just a bit too high.
"Poor Escalion," Cogsworth mused. "Needing to keep such hours."
"If he didn't let the rest of the library staff walk all over him, he would be much better off," Lumiere muttered.
"As opposed to letting Her Grace walk all over him?" Babette snickered as she sashayed over. "I thought you gentlemen might like to know that our visitor has awakened and your conundrum has been solved."
"Wonderful," Lumiere said. "What is he doing?"
"Taking a bath," answered Babette. "Now, if you don't mind, I'm going back up stairs. I might be needed."
"And what if I do mind?" Lumiere asked, scooting in front of her and blocking her exit.
Cogsworth covered his eyes and sighed. "Please, not again!"
"Then I suggest you do something about it," answered Babette coyly. Lumiere grinned at the feather duster and, sweeping her off her proverbial feet, they left the library.
"Lovers," Cogsworth muttered with all the disdain he could muster and stomped his way to the kitchen to find someone to order around.
The servants' quiet conversation had stirred Alix from her slumber, though they were all out of the room before she was properly awake. She yawned, fangs glittering in the sunlight, and rubbed her eyes sleepily. At this rate, she thought it was almost worth having someone make up a bed in this library.
The nice thing about being a Beast, she reflected as she meandered to the kitchens, was that she generally had very little to do to get properly attired in the morning. She was still human enough to feel that wandering around in just her fur was unacceptable (especially with Ger around), but a simple pair of breeches with a hole cut for the tail and a soft shirt was really all she needed. She had not enjoyed being fitted for her clothes when Madame de la Grande Bouche first insisted that she stop trying to wear whatever old clothes she could, but she was grateful to the matronly woman for having a wardrobe of comfortable clothes. Not that she would ever admit it, though it was possible that not tearing them to shreds was considered thanks enough.
"Tea," Alix said as she stepped into the kitchen. Chip bounded up to her, trying very hard not to get in the way of the mug who was hurrying over with the piping hot drink. Alix has explained to Chip that she could not drink from him and play with him at the same time, which was why he did not bring her tea and he accepted that as a perfectly reasonable answer. The real answer, of course, was that the mug held four times as much tea as Chip did and tea, like books and solitude, was one of those things Alix could never get enough of.
Alix smiled, though her smile slowly faded as Chip told her how he had waited all morning outside of Ger's door to get a glimpse of their visitor and how anxious he was for Ger to wake up so that they could all play together.
"Why do you want to play with him?" Alix asked, lips curled in a sneer. "How do you even know he wants to play with you?"
Chip paused; he hadn't thought of that. "I'll go and ask him," Chip decided. "Do you want to come too?"
Alix stared at him in surprise. "No," she answered, picking up her mug and turning on her tail, "I don't."
Chip watched with wide eyes as Alix swept out of the room. "What did I say?" he asked in a trembling voice, turning to his Mama. "Why doesn't Alix want to play with me?"
"It's not you she doesn't want to play with," Mrs. Potts answered, pressing a kiss to Chip's cheek. "It's Ger. Maybe you shouldn't talk so much about him around her, hmm?"
"But why not?" Chip protested. "It would be fun!"
"Chip," his mother said warningly. "If you don't want to upset her Grace, please don't mention the boy."
Chip pouted, but didn't press the matter. There was no arguing with his mother, or Alix, when either was in this kind of mood. Besides, as long as he didn't tell Alix about any more of his plans, he would be fine. He had never had a secret before, there had never been any reason to have one—there wasn't all that much trouble a teacup could get into in an enchanted castle where everything was alive. Now, though, his friendship with Ger could be a secret. All he had left to do, then, was to go and make friends with Gervaise Dupont.
Ger was sitting in the giant bath drawn before the fire, reveling in the feeling of warm water on his sore muscles. It had been a long time since he last ridden a horse for any amount of time, so the previous day's hell for leather gallop had not been easy on him. Adding to that the fact that he had not taken a hot bath since they had fled Paris, Ger could see himself happily soaking away for about a week. It wasn't as though he had anywhere to go.
That reminder of his imprisonment, however, took most of the fun out of his hot soak. It seemed a poor trade in the end—giving up a chance to return to University and his father for warm water.
"A lot of warm water," he reminded himself as he dunked under the water and scrubbed at his hair vigorously. "Warm water for the rest of my life, actually." He blew a few bubbles in the water before resurfacing, feeling a bit better about the circumstance.
"Wow..." said a voice from near Ger's left ear. "Can you teach me to do that?"
Ger jumped and accidentally sent a tidal wave of water onto the floor.
"That was fun!" chirped the voice, though it was now coming from the floor. Ger peered over the edge of the bath and found himself staring into the wide eyes of an excited looking teacup. "Hi!" it said, bouncing up and down. "My name's Chip!"
Ger blinked a few times, then tilted his head to the side and did the only thing he could do. "It's a pleasure to meet you," he responded, "My name is Ger."
"I know," answered the teacup. "Everyone's been talking about you!"
"Have they now?" Ger murmured, reaching down and scooping up the little cup in order to return him to his earlier perch on the rim of the tub and get a closer look. "What have they been saying?"
"I don't know," answered Chip, hanging his head. "They always shoo me out of the room before they keep talking."
Ger fought back a smile, though his sharp eyes were entirely occupied in analyzing the cup and trying to understand what it was he was seeing. "That is unfortunate. So you came to visit me instead?"
"I was hoping you would come and play with me," Chip said.
Ger was fast approaching his wit's end. He hated to give up on a logic puzzle, but he simply could not work out how someone could create a teacup that moved, spoke, seemed to think for itself and had no visible mechanism to work any of it. "This is impossible," he said to himself, tapping a fingernail lightly on Chip's rim to see if there was some hollowness inside that he was missing where the mechanism could be found. There wasn't.
"That tickles," said Chip with a giggle.
Ger was well and truly flummoxed at this point—the cup could respond in all the same ways as a human, even to touch. Such a thing was scientifically impossible...or at least improbable in the extreme.
"I must be missing something," he said, balancing Chip on his palm and raising an eyebrow.
"What are you missing?" responded the teacup. "Do you want me to help you look?"
"Then again," Ger continued, speaking more to himself than to Chip, "This is a castle run by an animal wearing a dress. What's one talking teacup, more or less?"
Chip stared at him in confusion. "Do you want to meet other talking teacups?"
Ger's jaw dropped. "There are more of you?"
"Uh huh! I'll introduce you to everyone in that kitchen." Chip leapt off the edge of Ger's hand and landed lightly on the floor before Ger even had a chance to cry out and tell him to be careful. "Come on!"
"I rather think I need to dry off and get dressed first," Ger said with a chuckle. He had never had all that much experience with children, but if all of them were this entertaining, he might consider getting to know a few...one day. Assuming that this propensity to say strange things was a habit of all young creatures and not just teacups.
Ger grabbed a towel off the nearest rack, which bowed politely to him and went to go get another towel, should he need it. Ger stared, openmouthed, at the retreating coat rack as it began to dawn on him that Chip was just the beginning.
The coat rack came back with another towel and set about drying Ger's hair. At the same time, a small and very helpful looking table trotted over with clothing for Ger piled atop it. Ger stared down at the heap of fine fabrics before him.
"Are these for me?" he wondered aloud. The table nodded its, for lack of a better term, head vigorously before offering the garments again. Shrugging, Ger picked up an outfit that was fit for a prince and wrinkled his nose at it.
"I can't wear this," he told the table. It looked back at him with a puzzled and hurt demeanor.
"It's an outfit fit for a prince, not a poor University student." The table kept staring at him. "Isn't there anything else? Something plainer?" The table, somehow, looked so depressed that Ger felt the need to reassure it that he liked the outfit it had picked out very much and that he would wear it one day. Just not today.
The table reluctantly seemed to agree and trundled off to find something else. It came back in a few moments with clothing that was, if not of coarser cloth, at least plainer that its previous selection. Ger shrugged into the fine linen shirt and breeches fairly easily, all the while wondering who they could have possibly belonged to. They fit him fairly well and, after the coat rack made some minor adjustments, Ger was ready to go. It seemed silly to dress up simply to be a prisoner in a castle, but the clothes were so comfortable that he was not entirely inclined to meditate on the absurdity of the situation and to simply take things as they came. He was a prisoner, true, but he was a comfortable and well-dressed prisoner with the run of a castle. In fact, he mused, he was probably better off here than in Molyneaux. There was no one like Genevieve around to annoy him, no farm chores with which to waste his time...if this place only had a library for him to continue his studies and room for his father, he could see himself being quite content.
He followed Chip down the stairs, allowing the young teacup to chatter on as he meditated on the fickleness of fortune. He had been so incredibly anxious to get his father out of the dank and gloomy dungeon that he had been willing to offer anything, even his own life, to rescue Maurice. It had not even occurred to him to try and fight the Beast; Maurice's safety was the only thing that he had been able to focus on. And it was a pity that Ger had not asked for his father to be kept around in the same conditions that he currently had for himself. That would have been ideal. Still, his father had never abhorred the village the way that Ger did. He might find it quite a pleasant place to be, now that Ger was gone and no longer causing trouble with the locals for wanting something more than a provincial life with a and provincial wife. He just hoped that his most recent encounter with Genevieve would not have too many repercussions for his father.
For himself, Ger thought with a fair amount of surprise, he could not have conceived of a better escape from Genevieve's clutches. There was no way she could reach him here and he would not have to face the rest of the town after having scorned her so publicly, an encounter that he now regretted and of which he was ashamed, though he knew himself well enough to admit that he probably could not have behaved any differently and she did deserve it. He had always prided himself in being able to remain above him surroundings and behave with grace and courtesy no matter what, but he had allowed himself to sink down to Genevieve's level, which was a truly low place to be.
"No more thoughts of Genevieve," he told himself, "She's going to be some other poor fool's problem soon and completely out of my hair." He grinned at that cheerful prospect and entered the kitchens right behind Chip.
"This is my Mama!" said Chip proudly, standing next to a very matronly looking teapot.
"Of course," Ger muttered to himself. "Who else would a teacup have for a mother?"
"Welcome to the castle, Monsieur," said the teapot, curtseying very politely to Ger, who simply accepted the fact that he was now in a place where fine china curtseyed. There did not seem to be much else to do. "I am Mrs. Potts."
"Gervaise Dupont," responded Ger with a bow. "I am pleased to make your acquaintance."
"I hope my son has not been bothering you," she said with a worried look in Chip's direction. "He means well, but he can be a tad excitable at times."
"Don't worry about that, Madame," Ger answered. "He was perfectly behaved the whole time and gave me a delightful tour of the parts of the castle between here and my suite. I am quite grateful to him."
"Oh," said Mrs. Potts, unable to hold back a flustered smile as Ger hit her with the full force of his charm. "Well, in that case, I'm glad he went up to visit you."
Ger smiled—he had used the same flattering tone on the cook in the kitchens at University and never once walked away without a few extra sweets and cakes. Aside from wanting to be a nice person, Ger knew full well the benefits of having the staff on his side and figured that, with a Beast as his competition, a little kindness could go a very long way in this place.
"I promised Ger that, if he came down with me, we could have some cake to have a picnic outside." Chip looked up at his mother with a pleading gaze and Ger followed suit. Helpless to resist, Mrs. Potts sent the two of them outside with enough cake to feed an army.
As they reached the door, they were stopped in their excursions by an excited footstool, who was yipping and was obviously desperate to be included in the excursion. After scratching it under its tassel, Ger told it to come along and resigned himself to having a day unlike any other he had ever experienced.
It had been a long time since he had played around as a child and Ger found that he missed the experience. With Chip directing, he played fetch with the footstool, whose name he was informed was Sultan, until both youth and furniture were exhausted. Then all three sprawled out on the ground and ate far too much cake. Ger chuckled quietly as he watched Chip and Sultan drift off to sleep, curled up around one another, obviously tired out by the day's excursions.
Ger was not the only one who was watching them, but the figure in the window was far from amused by the sight. Alix was staring out the windows of the library and felt as though she was about ready to scream.
"First he storms into my castle," she growled, "And accuses me of trying to kill his father; an accusation I damned well did not deserve since I meant to let the old fool free in a few hours and none the worse for wear, if only a bit more cautious. I should have torn Gervaise Dupont limb from limb for daring to disobey, but I didn't. I let him stay, give him one of the nicest rooms in the castle; I treat him like a guest and not a prisoner. So what does he do? He sets out to win my friends away from me!"
Friend, corrected her mind. You only have one, remember. And it's a five-year-old boy who has been turned into a teacup.
"Well, what does he matter, then," Alix muttered to herself. "I don't need any friends, especially not faithless children." And she tried to turn resolutely from the window, but her eyes were drawn back to the smile on Chip's face. He had never smiled with her like that. What did this foolish boy have that she did not?
While Alix pondered, fruitlessly, at the mystery that was human decency, Lumiere and Cogsworth were gathered in the kitchen to hear Mrs. Potts assessment of their guest.
"He was a darling," she said effusively, "Such a sweet boy."
Lumiere smiled, seeing through Ger's ploy to make friends with Mrs. Potts and highly approving of it. It bode well for the boy, if he was willing to be friendly and outgoing. He had already proved that he was not afraid of Her Grace, after the way he stood up to her the day before. The mistress was going to need all the help that she could get, if she was ever going to break the spell. And it was up to him and the rest of the servants to provide that help.
"It's a pity the Mistress is so intent on having nothing to do with him," Lumiere murmured.
"It is indeed," agreed Mrs. Potts. "Why, if only we could get them to speak somehow, I'm sure they'd be great friends in no..." She trailed off. "Lumiere, I believe you have a plan."
"I do indeed, Madame," he said with a smile. "And if you would all be willing to help me out, I believe we can implement the first phase tonight."
Mrs. Potts and Cogsworth were eager to hear what the maître'd had in mind. As he outlined his plot to them, Cogsworth found himself feeling hopeful despite himself. Maybe one of the wax-headed nincompoop's schemes might have some merit after all.
"We'll have to get to work straight-away," said Cogsworth, rubbing his hands together gleefully. "There is much to do and less time to do it in!"
He dashed off to speak to someone or other about something. Mrs. Potts caught Lumiere's eye and they shared a smile. "Poor dear hasn't had anything to plan in years," murmured the teapot. "I think this will be good for him."
"I think this will be good for us all," Lumiere answered. They set off in separate directions, more than ready to throw the first banquet that the Chateau du Lac had seen in over a decade.
T.B.C.
A/N – Hey, look! A Be Our Guest scene is coming up. Something tells me that Alix is not going to react well to anyone trying to plan her life other than herself. Oh, and just to make note, I was reading Robin McKinley's "Beauty" at some point while writing this chapter, so some of her style or characterization might have slipped in and become a part of my characters. It happens.
So, notes on the update. As usual, you can skip my authorial commentary, especially if you're expecting another show-stopping number. I try to keep those down to one per story.
Ger – Like Belle, he is more intrigued by the notion of the castle than anything else. I also see Ger up to be more of the city mouse than the country mouse, so it struck me as natural that he would be more comfortable with the castle than with the village. Ger has quite a few reasons to appreciate his stay in the castle and only one reason to want to return home. Granted, Maurice is quite a reason, but as far as Ger knows, his father is safe. Finally, Ger seems a lot less intimidated by Alix than Belle was of the Beast. Then again, he also knows that Alix never meant to kill his father, which is quite a mitigating factor. And he's roughly Alix's size, which probably helps, since it means he could try and take her in a fight. He'd fail and probably wouldn't try except as an absolute last resort, but Belle never could have done that or even thought to. This is all, by the way, an explanation of why the story seems to be derailing slightly. I did promise to tell a Beauty and the Beast story...I never told you how.
Chip – I like Chip. Quite a lot. Even before Shortstef started writing a fic about him, which made him even cooler, I found him to be a compelling figure. So he's going to get some pretty good billing here. Also, I think small children are adorable (yes, this is clearly a sign that I don't have any of my own) and they make wonderfully difficult characters. Small kids don't appear in adult literature that much, which is a shame, because they turn up in life fairly often. They also love to follow around their elders who they admire and I could definitely imagine Chip seeing Ger as the older brother he never had. Not to mention, if there are any other kids in the movie, we never meet them (other than Chip's "brothers and sisters," which I'm assuming is a figurative term for the other cups since I don't think Mrs. Potts was an early version of Nadya Suleman).
Alix – I don't think I need to explain Alix at this point, she's someone who spent years telling herself that she doesn't want or need anyone and is suddenly realizing that she has not necessarily been telling herself the truth. I'm going to try to parallel the Beast's redemptive trajectory with Alix, but there's no way I can have them do exactly the same thing. The Beast's whole redemption is first in his realization that he needs Belle and then that she might need him too. So he gets to save her and feel good about being a hero, which drives him to be a better person (because saving people creates endorphins, endorphins make you happy and happy people don't kill their husbands...right, where was I?) which, of course, makes Belle become even fonder of him, which made him like her because mutual reliance builds fondness and fondness builds love. Alix is currently refusing to admit that she needs Ger, so we're going to have to work on that.
The Servants – Lumiere seems to think that everything can be solved with food and a performance. We shall see. And, yes, after all these years Alix is still a bit inscrutable even to her servants. I think she likes it that way.
I...think that's it for the author ramblings. For all you readers, both new and old, thank you so much for reading and reviewing! I appreciate all your support and the more you have to say to me, the happier I am. You are all the best, have I mentioned that recently?
Damian
