Author's Note: This is it, my friends. The big one. It certainly has been a long, arduous journey. Now it's time for the pre-climax you've all been waiting for. I don't think anyone will be disappointed.
Commence The Reviews!
Miss meg 2005: Thank you kindly for your words of encouragement. For you, I will go on! Girl, I refuse to give up. Trust me, I do NOT think you will be disappointed.
BoshAndTosh: Dude, I can hardly blame you. At least you can get much welcomed respite in this new chapter. Yeah, it's hard to imagine a beloved character like Lumiere snuffing the light from Gaston's eyes. It makes me wanna hide.
Bailey Noelle: Thanks so much! I'm so relieved you agree about the whole "tragedy brings us together" I'm going for. I don't think you'll be disappointed at all with where this is going, and I hope you like sitting on the edge of your seat. Just be careful, you may fall off. I love you, Dude! Again, thank you for everything! You've stuck by me from the very beginning.
Child of Dreams: Hey, it's cool that you like Agathe. I personally love Fanboy and Chum Chum, despite that EVERYONE seems to despise them, so I understand completely what it's like. I won't give away anything else. The characters are going to continue the journey with or without the help of the enchantress.
Cheeky The Monkey: Buddy, you ain't seen nothin' yet! Thank you so much, by the way, for the kind words. It's you and all the other readers that inspire me to keep writing.
Singertobe: Dude, don't we all? Personally, I love Gaston (being such a good villain) but I have no qualms with sending him to a painful end. After all, no one makes a good BATB fanfic without our Gaston! Thanks so much for brightening my day.
To EVERY reader,
I hope you all find what you are looking for, and that you enjoy it from start to end. If so or if not, please let me know. A special thanks to my own prince, my light love and light.
Thank you all for everything.
...
Chapter Ten: Losing and Gaining Hope
The chaos in the castle took a long time to quell, and there were several instances of insanity. The young master had become a monster. Literally. Just the appearance to match his monstrous temper.
"I-I hear there's a footprint." Cogsworth informed Chef Bouche, who was now permanently tied to the kitchen.
"A what?"
"Evidence of her existence," Cogsworth explained. "Trails can be left behind from the presence of magic. I chance that we could harness that magic to change us back!"
"I should hope so!" A plate whimpered, too frightened to move from its cupboard.
Chef Bouche was not in the best of moods to offer a helpful suggestion. "Well, go on then, Hansel! Follow it!"
Cogsworth cleared his throat. "Ahem. I'm haven't any sorcerer-eyes." he added, and Chef Bouche slammed down the lid of an inanimate (thank Heavens) pot.
"Mon ami!" Came Lumiere's voice as he hopped into the kitchen (with much stumbling as he hadn't yet grown used to this form). "The Master's barricaded himself in the West Wing! He's tearing the place to shreds!"
"Stay clear," the Chef advised with a growl, "until we break this God-forsaken curse."
"Wh-? How on earth are we going to find a girl with the standards of a-?" Cogsworth cut himself off immediately. It was unwise to badmouth the prince before, but now it was potential suicide.
A heavy crash from upstairs made all three of them flinch. Only time would tell.
"Well, have you at least garnered control of your flame?" The clock sighed to Lumiere.
Lumiere shook his head. "Ah, not quite," he admitted, eyeing his holders warily, which sparked every so often without warning. "I'm not sure how it works, but I imagine it has a bit to do with will."
"Well, try and suppress that as much as you can. How is Fifi?" Asked Cogsworth, trying to get the candelabra to look him in the eyes.
"She's keeping her distance until I get a hold of whatever this—" The holders sparked suddenly, causing the two of them to yelp. "-…is," Lumiere finished, shaken. "It's unsafe for one made of feathers to be around something like me."
"Don't qualm, mind," Cogsworth tried to console. "I'm thinking of a way to fix this mess, and—"
"You are?" Lumiere gasped. "What? What is it?"
"Let me speak!" Cogsworth chided. "In the library, we have many books on enchantments, right?"
What Cogsworth sought to solve never came true. The wisest of the castle dwellers gathered if they physically could after the day of chaos, and together, studied these taboo novels to find a way to reverse the curse at his instruction. Alas, despite the magical figures they now possessed, not a single one could wield magic himself. Chanting, brews, rituals and more, but nothing worked. Days stretched into weeks and weeks stretched into months. The servants began to feel the wear and tear of failure and slowly dissipated from the large group of aspiring warlocks to resume their active duties until only Cogsworth and Lumiere remained at the helm.
Cogsworth lived on frustration, and used it to strengthen his resolve. He would NOT give up, and soon he began dabbling in the charms himself.
Lumiere stood by his side, as much as it pained him to see Cogsworth working on this alone. However, he refused to try any of it out himself. He believed that nothing good could from this. Naught but evil spirits and curses could be summoned from these texts.
Still, he hoped beyond hope that they could harness this evil.
No such luck.
Both Lumiere and Belle left Maurice's humble abode distraught but returned solaced. A weight had been lifted with the acceptance of their innocence in this state of affairs, and they would not take blame anymore. Belle was determined to keep her ties intact, and Lumiere was more than willing to support her. He was small, but that didn't mean he was useless. He'd try his best to help mend the situation in any way he was able. That could start with him shifting the mood.
"I have no doubt that your father will soon patch everyone up," he cheerily complimented as they approached the cottage. "He is a talented craftsman."
"Isn't he at all?" Belle agreed. "If it hadn't been for his Wood Chopper—and Chip of course, the little rascal—we wouldn't have escaped at all!"
"Ah, so that's what caved in the door," Lumiere realized, shuddering a bit as he realized what might have happened if they were careless. "I'm relieved you weren't minced."
Belle smiled. "I'm all in one piece, Monsieur," she assured.
Everyone was relieved to see two return through the gaping hole in the cellar and greeted them kindly. It was natural for Cogsworth to veil his relief with his trademark fiery temper, so nobody was surprised when he tackled Lumiere, causing them both to tumble head over base into a newly repaired table leg.
"Oi! Watch it!" The table complained, and the footman barked.
"Of all the simple-minded, insensible, ludicrous-" Cogsworth raved, shoving a fist in his wax face of his friend, who grinned and laughed quietly. The candelabra paid him no scorn. After all, the relief searing through the anger was evidence enough of Cogsworth's good intentions. Belle followed suit and forced back a sheepish grin at the spectacle.
The clock raved, quaking his little hands in a flurry of what he would usually dismiss as emotional flimflam. "You leave again and I will combust into a thousand splinters! Understand? You leave again and I WILL COMBUST." Lumiere practically went cross-eyed as the clenched fist drew closer and closer to his face with every word.
"Of course! Of course!" He smiled easily, maneuvering the wooden hand away. "You can always count on me, mon capitan."
"OH! Can I now?"
Lumiere tried to soothe his friend's frustration. "There was no trouble, mon ami."
At this, Cogsworth threw his wooden head back and laughed sardonically. "HA! So you say. There was no trouble down here, thank the Lord, but YOU, Simpleton, could have been killed." Lumiere nodded along with the rant, tensing slightly at the verbal abrasions. It seemed as if his friend both gave him too much and too little standing. He understood the risk quite well, but it appeared his own life was no longer incentive enough to keep him under lockdown. That notion frightened him more than Gaston's threats, no matter how plausible, ever could.
"Well, I do beg your pardon," he apologized, a little less than genuine. Cogsworth paused his tirade to huff, recognizing the farce immediately. Belle adhered the quiet alarms and quickly interceded to stop the small outburst from growing out of control.
"Forgive him, Monsieur. He just needed some fresh air," Belle amended, walking beside the quarrelling duo.
Cogsworth's ire lessened somewhat at Belle's sweet assurance and he narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. "Fresh air," he repeated. "Right." Lumiere took his chance and quietly slinked away to rest against the wall while his friend pondered. "Fine then. But never underestimate the peril beyond these walls."
Belle nodded to ease his doubts, and Cogsworth finally relented.
Maurice beamed then and took a small break to embrace his daughter, careful to mind the teacup in his hand. "I can't believe how quick you are," Belle praised, and then asked, "There was no trouble while I was gone?"
"None," Cogsworth repeated scornfully. "Your simpleton," he addressed Lumiere again, eyes flickering about to catch his sneaky companion, "could have been snatched by a handsy ruffian."
"At ease, Love," Mrs. Potts soothed, hopping over to the two. "You heard her. He just wanted to get some fresh air like the rest of us."
The clock sagged, unable to argue with that. "To think I used to complain about isolation…" He shook his head. "At least we had room. Everyone could move about and have a place to himself back at the castle. No disrespect of course, to you, good Sir, and your hospitality," he addressed Maurice. "We are forever in your debt."
"None taken. A bit cramped, isn't it?" The old man admitted, cradling a forlorn Chip in his hands while the cup's siblings hopped about below his seat. "You're welcome all the same."
Belle agreed.
Polished to shine brighter than he ever had, Chip pouted and carefully moved to peer down over Maurice's clever fingers. "Isn't there any way we can go back, Mama?" Chip asked from his perch. "I miss it. I even miss the cupboard."
"I know you do, Dear, and I as well, but…we cannot return," the teapot gently replied, her porcelain heart breaking at her son's fallen face. Oh, how she wanted to sweep him up in human arms and carry him all the way back. "It's much too dangerous to try and make the journey home as we are, let alone make it past Gaston. We've got to make do with what we've got here and keep out chins up. I'd rather you been safe here than be in constant danger elsewhere." The small teacup wilted at his mother's answer and let out a small whine. His brothers and sisters did the same amongst themselves beneath the workbench.
"But we wanna leave!" The cups all protested in unison.
"Apologies, but it is out of the question," Cogsworth agreed, pacing with his 'hands' behind his back. "If we decide to leave, people will notice our absence and track us post haste! From there, they would despo—" He paused, eyeing the children and Mrs. Pott's steely glare. "—Ahem. Mhm."
"We can beat them up again!" Chip's sister tried, earning herself a stern look from her mother. Cogsworth shook his head.
"What? What if we DID do what we did before?" The coat rack suggested, a spirit kindling in his voice. "Is it so bad an idea that we could fight back?"
Cogsworth rejected this notion without hesitation. "Indeed it is. If we even tried about taking a stance, we'd be outnumbered ten to one. We haven't got our muscle with us now." He didn't say it aloud but everyone over the age of idiot knew what he was speaking of. Madame, Chef Bouche… "We've lost too many," he mumbled. "The consequences aren't worth the risk."
"But, there has to be some way we can fix this," Chip slouched sorrowfully.
Cogsworth sighed. "Face it, my lad. We don't have a chance."
Agitated were the enchanted objects who'd steamed at Cogsworth's hopeless snuffs.
"So what ARE we goin' ter do?" The coat rack snapped impatiently. "Sit in this 'ere cellar 'till the end o' times?"
"How horrid a way to live!" A newly repaired spoon agreed, the rest of the silverware wilting at the idea.
"We could…venture out inta th' wild?" A fork meekly suggested, and the group shuddered. The woods and fields of France were no place for delicate ornaments. Rust, breaks, cracks—too many things would trouble the fineries out there.
"Then it begs the question," the coatrack announced. "What is more important: our safety or our liberty?"
Silence, before the Cogsworth scoffed and looked at the ceiling. "We have a choice? That'll be the day, Loius," he mumbled under his breath, and the silverware groaned amongst themselves.
Maurice advised, "Let's leave politics out of it."
Belle looked among everyone in the cellar, watching the hope drain away from their beings, and it was more than her weary heart could bear. It was up to her to mend everything, she decided, whether or not her father, or Lumiere, or Mrs. Potts, or Cogsworth, or anybody else approved. She was the only bridge linking Gaston's better nature and Gaston himself, and to do nothing would be as sinister as the cruel acts that'd caused all this mess.
"I could speak to Gaston," Belle announced, a flicker of courage rousing in her heart. Before anyone could object, she explained, "He may not hark to me at first, but I need to try to push him into the right mindset so that we may negotiate."
A heavy bout of tension hung over the cellar, and the enchanted objects glanced to each other with uncertainty. Lumiere frowned, but kept quiet as he inched his way back over to Cogsworth.
"…What would you say?" A chair queried, moving closer with interest.
"Why, that's up to you!" Belle exclaimed, kneeling down to the floor to address the chair. "Tell me exactly what it is you all wish for and I'll do my best to make it come true."
"Breathing room," someone in the back piped up, "would be most appreciated."
"Freedom," another amended, but without much confidence, "if anything!"
A pause.
"Human! We wanna be human again!" one of Chip's sisters exclaimed, hopping along with excitement to Belle's lap. Her big eyes widened and she added a very adorable, hopeful "please" for good measure. The air became so thick with tension that it practically became a tangible weight upon everyone present.
Cogsworth sputtered and coughed awkwardly.
"Human again?" Belle repeated, hazel eyes darting around the small populace, which seemed to shrink before her eyes. "Human?"
The cup who spoke out grinned, her eyes shining. "Yep! I wanna wear my dresses again! I want to run and swim and climb! And eat cake! Heaps of it!" The rest of the siblings voiced their agreement.
Flabbergasted, Maurice leapt from his chair, nearly knocking into Mrs. Potts. "You want to—beg your pardon, Madame—to be human again? You were all—? When—?" He gestured randomly until he could formally ask the question. "How...How in God's name did you end up like this?"
It was practically instinct at this point to hide the past for fear of lessening the chances of breaking the spell, but now that there was no hope of it ever happening, Cogsworth relaxed. "How about you ask Gaston to put us out of our misery? Musket to the back, anyone?" He sarcastically suggested, and Lumiere glared, sticking a flame to the arm of his friend, who yelped half-heartedly and grabbed at the burned area. "Oh, come off it, you twit," he griped, "I wasn't serious."
"Brazen!" Mrs. Potts scolded her friend, wishing more than ever she could cover her children's ears with hands she didn't have. Some matters were just too heavy for them. "Little pitchers have big ears!"
"Human again?" Belle repeated, her voice taking on a higher pitch and bringing everyone back to the elephant in the room.
"Uh, well, it's a long story," Cogsworth began awkwardly.
"Apparently, we have until the end of time!" Maurice smiled apologetically, eyeing the coat rack who'd spoken earlier.
Mrs. Potts sighed and settled herself. "Dear me. I can't believe that none of us have told you yet."
"It's alright. I know you all meant well…" Belle trailed, thinking back to the conversations she'd had with everyone back at the castle, and now recognized a slip or two. "We'd love to hear it now."
"Story time!" Chirped the teacups.
From there, the enchanted objects told Belle and her father their tale, sometimes interjecting his or her own perspective of what had transpired that fateful night, skipping the loneliest of the ten years together, and eventually ending off to when Belle's father had arrived for the first and last time. Maurice was especially curious as to what had been going on ever since he'd been spared by the Beast…and when he'd been separated from his daughter.
A careful, secretive look amongst the objects silently spread, and they purposely avoided what could have broken the spell altogether. Belle didn't need to feel any more guilty.
"So enchantresses are real," Maurice mused to himself after the tale had been told, "and not a legend." He leaned back in his chair, awestruck. "My parents used to frighten me as a young lad; said us kids would be turned to toads by an ethereal being if we were nasty to the elders." He shuddered. "Scared me half t' death until my later days."
Belle was deep in thought. "Surely," she ventured slowly, "there is a way to break it still."
Mrs. Potts looked away. "No, my dear. I'm afraid—" She stopped suddenly and hopped closer to Belle, who leaned down. "I don't want to give my children—or anyone—false hope. The enchantress was quite clear: once the last petal falls, we're doomed to remain this way forever," she whispered to the young woman, and then at a normal volume to the rest of the room. "Our chance to mend the issue has passed, and now we must focus on the present."
Tilting her head, Belle thought for a moment. The rose had lost all its petals just as Mrs. Potts described. It was all still there at the castle, rotting away, losing the glossy sheen and vibrancy. She slumped. It was like writing a book; once the ink had dried, the story could not be rewritten…
Belle frowned to herself. No. There had to be a way to fix this. This couldn't be the way they'd live for the rest of their lives. The petal's descent couldn't be the final marker. There had to be a chance. A smidge, if any! Perhaps the enchantress might've been kind enough to provide another way. She HAD to have foreseen the risk of failure, and if something HAD been left behind, perhaps the magic within had not disappeared altogether. Perhaps—
"Do you really think you can change Gaston's mind?" Chip asked Belle, jolting her from her thoughts. She nodded. "But…how do you know? He's so mean!" The young lad exclaimed, hopping from Maurice's hand to the edge of the chair to pout. "Why does he have to be so mean?"
"Yeah!" His siblings cried out. "Why can't he be nice?"
Cogsworth couldn't help but roll his eyes. "If only a power-hungry madman could be a little nicer!" He bitterly muttered under his breath, which earned him small nudge to the arm, but he paid no attention.
Belle brushed herself off and stood, brisk but nervous. "I can't answer that, Chip. Sometimes, folks are born with a mean-streak while others are shaped by the hands of evil, but no matter what, Gaston made a choice. If he is truly evil inside, he's still capable of choosing to do right, just as a nice soul is perfectly capable of choosing to do bad." Chip gazed up at her, quieted. "He did horrible things to you all, but now I'm going to try to grant you what you want. Then, when the time is right, you can make a dash for it."
"You're actually leaving?" Cogsworth jumped and ran before the young woman with his little arms outstretched, as if that alone would stop her from taking her leave. "I thought that was just a—a…a suggestion!"
Belle blinked down at him, rather wary. "I can't hide down here forever, Monsieur."
"No, of course not. But how can you be certain of your safety?"
Belle wasted no time. "I'll be fine. It's you all that I'm worried—" She stopped suddenly, and turned to the golden candelabra, who'd stood unusually quiet the entirety of the conversation. "Stay put," she ordered firmly, and Lumiere nodded innocently.
Mrs. Potts nodded, raising a porcelain brow at the maitre de'. "You'd better, Love."
Maurice said nothing, but Cogsworth planted himself between Lumiere and the opening, staring pointedly at his friend, who held up his candle holders in defense. "Lumiere," he warned, dragging out the name.
"Please," Belle urged him.
"Don't worry, Mademoiselle," Cogsworth assured and grabbed Lumiere's arm. "I've got a firm grip!" Lumiere grimaced as the metallic hold calculatingly tightened.
Belle nodded her thanks. "I'm begging you to stay put. He promised he'd—" She stopped and shook for an agonizing second, head down and eyes unfocused. Maurice watched with concern and Lumiere felt cold.
"What did he promise?" Whispered a nervous teacup, but Belle left without another word, leaving the cellar opening empty.
The weight of her words left an unsettling air in the cellar and a hundred gruesome possibilities to kindle in the minds of the anxious. Lumiere himself felt colder than he ever had as a candelabra. Cogsworth shook his head. "It couldn't have been good," he growled, "whatever that scoundrel vowed."
Maurice chuckled breathlessly, wiping his face with his shirt sleeve. "Can't say I've ever known anyone quite like him. But she's right. She's safer than—" he eyed the teacups and refrained from making the situation seem any more hopeless. "Gaston won't harm her."
The clock sputtered at the old man's acquiesce and twirled to face him. "And how, Sir, can you be so certain?" He demanded, not meaning to sound pushy, but he was stressed beyond belief, making him wish for the busy days of the castle. "After all, he did trap the both of you in this very room when she was out of his grasp, correct?"
"Indeed. When he thought all he desired was out of his grasp," Maurice told him, leaning back in his chair. "Now that he thinks he's won, things will be different. He was raised under the strict hand of a gentlewoman," he reminisced, "taught from the beginning to respect every lady like he would the Mother Virgin. He honored the gentlewoman like no other at first, and he held to her teachings and an air of chivalry wherever he went."
Cogsworth frowned. "That sounds nothing like him."
The old man shook his head. "He grew up and became unafraid of the gentlewoman. He no longer listened to her and abandoned his studies. He craved something she could not teach, and divulged in rather…unpleasant acts. He's a fine actor when he wants to be, and I've known him since he was a lad.."
"Such as?"
"Oh, nothing that will harm my daughter," Maurice insisted. "I despise the brute, and he will no doubt voice his aggression, but he will not lay a finger on her. Not if he wants to uphold his good image—"
"—And keep her under his claws," the clock scorned. There was a small silence as the objects shuffled and mumbled amongst themselves. "Really, it seems he's becoming more brutish every day."
The old man frowned, tensing a bit in his seat and setting Chip down on the floor. "Well, if she wants to take the chance of bettering your lives, I don't want to stop her. She's grown, after all. I don't have a hold on her anymore."
"Even so—I do apologize—I can't imagine him in any way other than a violent fiend!" Cogsworth burst, throwing his little hands in the air. "Belle needs to come back! That certainty you have of her safety is naught but foolishness!"
"Cogsworth!" Mrs. Potts scolded at the Brit's candor. "Don't say such things. We must remain calm and prepare ourselves for what lies ahead. If Maurice, having lived with Gaston in the same village for years, is confident that he will do Belle no harm, then I stand beside him."
"Yeah, don't be such a pessimist, Henri" the coat rack chided. "We need to hope for something."
"But—! Ughh." Cogsworth shook his head but said nothing else to Maurice. Instead, he made to ask for Lumiere's opinion, only to find that the spot he was stood was barren. He'd…lost his grip.
The clock took a start, gasped, and whipped around just in time to see his friend leaving through the cellar opening. The candelabra stopped to look back pointedly at Cogsworth's slowly angering face. "I agree with you, Monsieur," he explained, and vacated the premise before his old friend could protest.
There was a small silence, and Cogsworth turned to face the surprised company. "NOW he agrees? …I'm going to strangle him if he returns," he whispered, closing his eyes with overwhelming frustration at his friend.
…
Gaston had nearly everything ready. The stupendous band, the gorgeous decorations, the excited guests; all were getting arranged in the plaza. In an hour or two, he'd get changed into his best waistcoat, shirt, breeches, shiny boots which caught the eye of many as he strolled through the works, and don his flesh in scented oils. All he needed for this to go splendidly was the lady of said event. He smiled proudly, imagining a happy future with her.
It was going to be amazing.
"Fantastic job, everyone!" He announced, holding his arms up for quiet. "You've all worked tirelessly to make my dream become a reality and I am more than grateful. Come three o' clock, the wedding will have been a success, and I will reward everyone with exquisite party favors." The crowd cheered, and LeFou clapped by his side.
Belle carefully moved into the crowd, receiving a few cheerful greetings and polite 'excusez-mois' as she bumped her way through. She nodded anxiously in reply, remembering many of these faces as the ones who'd assembled behind Gaston to storm the castle.
An older woman smiled brightly and took Belle's hand in her own. "Bonjour, young lady! I'm so happy to share this special day with you. Félicitations!"
Belle managed to smile back to mask her dread. "Merci," she thanked the other woman, "I'm glad you're excited."
"Everybody is!" The woman replied, heaving a heavy basket of flowers under her left arm. "Your fiancé, most of all."
"Oh—do you know where he is?" Belle asked quickly, looking about.
"He's right over there, givin' his address." The woman jerked her head toward the center of the plaza, where the man himself was attending the villagers.
Belle's stomach lurched. She realized then just how afraid she was. "I…I know he's looking forward to the ceremony…" She managed, and the other woman laughed.
"I understand how taxing this is. Just think about what will happen after: a whole new chapter of your life just waiting to be read," she smiled sympatheticallyy and gave her hand a small squeeze before retreating back into the crowd with a line of children holding baskets toddling after her like ducklings. They all tittered and waved at Belle as they passed, apparently just as eager as their mother. She waved back with a polite smile before making her way to the center.
This was going to be difficult.
She hurried to her fiancé, who'd only just finished his reminder to everyone that the time of event was approaching.
"Bonjour, Gaston. May I speak to you?" Belle asked reverently, placing a gentle hand on his muscled shoulder. The man turned and smiled, delighted to see her outside the cellar. She felt herself start to relax as his mood had tremendously improved since the last time she'd seen him.
"Of course! It's good to have you here," he heartily complied, laying a hand on her shoulder and steering her away from the packed plaza to a less crowded area. Once they were situated outside the bookshop, he crossed his broad arms and gazed at her. "Is something wrong?"
Belle flushed. All she had left to worry about were the fates of her dear companions. She knew what was going to happen to her, and she needed to be strong. "I have a proposition," she began, "concerning my…the magical objects that I think you'll be very happy with."
Gaston instantly tensed at their mention, but kept himself in line. "I apologize for my temper," he muttered, as he WAS embarrassed by his loss of control. "I shouldn't have shouted. It was juvenile, and you didn't deserve it, no matter how much I thought you did."
Belle blinked, surprised.
Gaston went on. "When we're married, I don't want to look at me with fear in your eyes. I never wanted that. So I apologize."
Belle nodded slowly. "You're forgiven," she quietly assured him.
Gaston smiled and tilted his head, waiting.
The young woman sucked in a breath and looked away. "I…I can marry you without struggle if you allow them to return to the castle," she explained, her heart pounding as she recognized the gravity of what she was suggesting. Giving up her freedom like this was beyond dangerous, but she found herself prepared to do it in exchange for the freedom if her friends and family. "You'd be better off without them in town giving me ideas, right?" She added quickly when Gaston's face contorted.
The man rubbed his chiseled chin. "Out of sight, out of mind." Belle sucked in a breath, but wilted when he shook his head. "You don't actually expect me to trust them to just stay there," he eyed her carefully, "or for you to stay away from them."
"H-Hear me," Belle pleaded. She didn't know how to else to respond other than to beg. "Please! I will never indulge them again! You have my word, Gaston."
To her despair, he laughed. "No disrespect, but a lady's word means little, you understand?"
Face burning, she swallowed, desperation breaching any safe of calmness that'd sat solidly in her mind just moments before. This had to work. She needed to change this stubborn brute's mind. "Th-The castle has a large gate," she tried. "Lock it if you must."
"Crafty little creatures like them can squeeze right through." He shook his head. "I've already made my mind up about where they're going, and I know you won't be very happy, but it'll be better in the long run for both of us."
Belle's heart dropped. She knew about his plans to auction them off. "I know you think selling or giving them away is best, b-but—what good is that if they'll still be in town?"
"Ah, but they won't be here. Not for long! The townsfolk are receiving them as gifts and selling them for a higher profit," he told her, firmly taking her hands in his that felt nothing but constricting. "They'll be gone before the end of the month if the British merchants take interest. Then, they'll never plague your mind again."
Belle shook. She'd wanted her friends to have their freedom, not rebranded and separated. Then, she wondered if that was better than staying in a town where Gaston reigned supreme.
"Belle," the man cleared his throat, catching her eye. "I want you to see what everybody has done for us."
"I've seen the decorations; they're beautiful. But—!" She tried to object, but he led her straight into the crowd, which parted like the Red Sea so that they could pass through. She expected to see more embellishments that she would have loved to see at a wedding with someone she loved, but as they approached the town church, she stopped fast. The glossy wooden doors were opened wide as the town's priest, Father John, stepped out and bowed respectfully to Belle. "Congratulations, me dear!"
Inside, the aisles, were polished and decorated with roses of all sorts. The sight of them caused her heart to ache, and once again she wondered if she could figure out a better way to help her friends. She was beginning to calm her nerves until she caught sight of what lay on the floor. Her stomach heaved.
The Beast.
Skinned.
Rugged.
Unblinking.
He was settled right before the alter, where the bride and groom would stand and say their vows. Belle's eye twitched and she stumbled backward. Gaston watched, an unreadable expression on his chiseled face. She would need to stand on the body of her dead friend in order to—
"It was out of the men's skill to have the entire body stuffed," Gaston told her like he was talking about the weather, "but skinning is the next best thing! Not a bad job, eh?"
Covering her mouth, Belle squeezed her eyes shut and turned away. Without saying a word, she wretched herself from her fiancé and blindly stomped off in the opposite direction.
Gaston quickly caught her. "Belle," he bit, holding her wrist, "you can't just run away from this."
"Can't I?" Belle gasped, almost hysterically as her mind flashed the image of the Beast's body over and over. "That's disgusting, Gaston. Disgusting. Disgusting. Disgusting."
"Disgusting," Gaston repeated, frowning as he watched the young woman chant and stumble her way over to a potted plant where she heaved some more. "Come now. Belle, it's a—" He stopped and took a deep breath. He was getting a bit put-out by these outbursts, and he found himself teetering on the fence between two fields of either reacting with aggression and acting with patience. This time, perhaps he'd pushed a bit too far.
"Never mind, then," he dismissed, deciding to have the taxidermy perched in his tavern for the after party. "I'll have it removed. Try to ease your mind before the ceremony starts." He motioned a group of excited ladies over. "It's time to dress! These fine gentlewomen are going to help you."
He strode away then, shouting more orders to his men as the women surrounded Belle to give their congratulations.
Belle shook her head and backed away. "I-It's wrong," she whispered to the women, whose excitement lessened at her sadness. "This is all wrong, ca-can't you see?"
"Oh, don't be frazzled, my poor dear," one of the ladies comforted, and took her hand. "We're going to help to make everything perfect so you don't need to fret about a thing."
The second woman nodded kindly and said, "Quite right. Every bride goes through this."
Belle wanted to cry. How did Gaston manage to sweep the whole town into obliviousness? She'd felt as if her whole world had crashed around her in a curtain of solid blackness and there was literally nothing she could do to let in a light. Surely, there was a way to change their minds, but her heart wasn't in it. Her determination was crumpled, so instead of braving through it, she ducked her head low and disappeared into the crowd before the ladies could protest.
…
Lumiere hopped along the dirt trail until he reached the bridge, the village on the other side. He paused, allowing some distance between himself and a passing covered cart heading to the same area. Its contents were a mystery, but Lumiere could guess their weight, as the horse pulling the load was visibly struggling.
"C'mon, Boy," the driver atop of the cart sighed, shifting the reins as they passed onto the stone bridge. "Almost there."
The horse whinnied, his hooves clopping to a stop as he stubbornly steamed.
The driver groaned aloud. "Oh, for the love of Pete."
Lumiere moved slowly to plant himself beneath the cart to hide. He'd follow the course of the cart until it reached town. There, he'd find Belle and watch over her. If something happened, he'd… Lumiere gritted his teeth and muttered a prayer under his breath. He'd do whatever he could to help. He wouldn't fail anyone else. He would never leave someone to die. Not like the first time. Never ever again.
The horseman hopped from his perch and landed on his feet just inches from where the candelabra was hiding and marched right up to the animal. "Are you just gonna stand there? Move it!" He scolded, tugging at the bridle. No movement, and Lumiere silently willed the horse to obey. He needed to get into town and not lose sight of Belle. The man offered a carrot to the steed in hope of cooperation, but the snack was refused with an aggressive snort.
The driver grew angry and threw down his cap. "Fine!" He snapped. "If you can't do your job, I'll just have one of your friends drag you!" He left for a few minutes and returned with a strong mare, connecting their harnesses.
"That'll do it," he grumbled, patting the mare's neck. "We're losing daylight." He settled back into his seat and snapped the reins. "Help Phillipe out, Frou-Frou. Giddyap."
Lumiere winced, but was unsurprised that someone else had taken Maurice's horse out from under his wing. It sounded like Phillipe was very unhappy about his situation as well, if his trudging movements were anything to go by. He wanted to comfort the animal, but couldn't give himself away.
The mare obeyed the driver, gently pulling along the horse behind her until he relented and followed. "Good girl!" Lumiere hopped quickly and carefully beneath the cart in order to keep up with the horse's gait.
They soon crossed the bridge and stepped onto the stone pavement of the village, where the hustle and bustle of wedding preparations was present. A strong, sweet aroma engulfed his senses, and he breathed deeply. Pairs of feet briskly shuffled on both sides of the cart, the pounding of shoes almost masking the chatter of the villagers as they exchanged goods. Lumiere carefully moved to the left side to peer past the spokes of the wheel once the horses stopped.
It was as if the town had been transformed into a garden paradise. Flowers of all sorts decorated the pillars of stand covers, along the sills of windows, and streaming down from the rooftops in beautiful vines, which reminded him strongly of weeping willows. Looking among the populace, he found that everyone was well-dressed and depraved of any muck. Some of the wealthier ladies had applied power, and he was certain that the town's coiffeurs were having great business. Smiling to himself, he scoured the crowd in search of Belle and eventually caught a glimpse of a blue hem disappearing into the plaza where even more people were congregated.
Aha!
Lumiere almost took off after her there, and reined himself just in time to avoid being stomped on by a hefty man. Breathing sharply, he waited for the right moment to make haste, and then hopped off. Ducking and dodging with ease, he made his way through the crowd and managed to avoid anyone's line of sight. Keeping caution, he hopped into a nearby alley where it was void of hustle and bustle.
"Alright," he muttered aloud from behind a flower pot and scouring the area. "Don't lose track. Don't lose track."
A slight hiccup interrupted his thoughts and he whirled around to find himself inches away from a little boy, about four or five, huddled and in the process of the eating fistfuls of calissons. The child was staring him dead in the eye, midchew and eyes wide.
Keeping calm, Lumiere forced a smile onto his wax face. "Bonjour, juene garcon!" He greeted cheerfully, and the young boy gasped.
"Can you help me?" Lumiere asked. "I'm lost."
"Hi Lost. I'm Ancil," the little boy replied. He slowly crept another pastry into his mouth and nodded, eyes growing ever wider but thankfully staying quiet. It was a miracle, Lumiere thought, that he hadn't run away screaming. Then again, the child looked young enough to find fairy tales real and commonplace. Perhaps the little boy was deciding that this magical being before him was a natural creature. After all, the adults hadn't made a fuss.
"Merci!" Lumiere thanked him, holding out his left candle-holder. The little boy stared at it for a moment before taking it tentatively in his little hand. "I'm trying to find a young lady wearing a blue dress. If you could carry me through the crowd, I'd very much appreciate it."
The little boy agreed and shoved the last of the calissons in his mouth. "Ahll chake shyou t' 'er."
Lumiere breathed a sigh of relief and froze himself into his default position, looking as inconspicuous as possible. The little boy clumsily got to his feet and picked the candelabra up. "Now, make sure that nobody knows I can talk," Lumiere advised out of the corner of his mouth. "This is a secret mission!"
The little boy grinned excitedly at the word 'secret'. "Can I pretend to be an espion?" He asked.
"Certainly! Be quick!"
Determined and in character, the little boy moved to the edge of the alley and peaked out. He held Lumiere with both hands against his chest. "Where do I go?" He whispered, though the loud clamoring of the other villagers would have drowned out his normal voice. Lumiere scanned the area and quickly gestured to the plaza where he'd seen Belle slip away into.
Ancil remembered to be quick, alright. Without a word, he dashed through the crowd, avoiding confectioneries, dodging carts, and weaved around the much larger adults. They arrived at the center in no time, but Belle was nowhere to be seen.
"Now where?" The little boy asked, ducking behind a barrel of ale. Lumiere bit his wax lip and looked about the scene.
"She—I saw her—" Lumiere paused, and froze. Gaston had just walked by, his earth-shaking stomps jolting the candelabra from his default position. By the grace of God, he was left unseen. Unfortunately, little Ancil was most intrigued.
"Look!" He cried excitedly, pointing eagerly at the passing hunter. "Gason! Gason!"
Lumiere shushed him frantically, but it was too late.
Gaston stopped dead in his tracks and turned with a smile, looking for the child who'd tried calling out his name. He heard a disgruntled splash and zeroed in on the table of confectionaries. Grasping either side of his belt, he strolled over and peered over the edge of said table to find a little boy, looking bashfully eager.
"Hello, little Ancil," Gaston greeted, extending his hand out to shake the young boy's hand. Ancil squealed happily as he was hoisted up at a remarkable speed to perch on the man's muscular shoulder. "Are you getting into the ale?
"Hi!" Ancil chirped, feeling taller than he'd ever pretended.
"What are you doing all the way over here?" Gaston asked the little boy. "Let's find your grandfather." He walked off, leaving the table and the barrel of ale. "Is he in the bookstore…?" As soon as the hunter's voice grew faint, Lumiere burst from the ale with a great gasp and hoisted himself over the edge to topple onto the dirt.
"PWAH! Th-That was a foolish idea!" He chastised himself, daring not to light his flames anytime soon. He'd have to drop by the river now to clean off the shiny liquid layer of bière de garde from his surface.
Shaking his head, he had no time to react when another hand snatched him up. Panicked, he almost lit his flames, but stopped when he realized who was holding him.
Belle. Glaring and fuming, but unhurt.
Lumiere let out a huge sigh of relief and tried to calm his nerves. "Oh, merci les Saints, it's only you!" He breathed, smiling sheepishly when she did not smile back.
Belle did not reply until she stole out of town and made her way to the bridge. When she arrived, she dunked him in the river. Lumiere sputtered and spit, but decided to be grateful that the ale was now washed off. When he stood, it was all he could do to keep from hiding. She looked livid.
"Why didn't you listen?" She hissed, clenching her fists. "I specifically told you to stay put and you completely ignored me! Hasn't Gaston made it clear? He will kill you if he has the chance!"
Lumiere opened his mouth to speak, surprised at her temper, but Belle cut him off.
"Had he found you instead of I, you wouldn't be here," she growled. "You'd be dead, or at the very VERY least, in the hands of some foreign merchant!"
The candelabra wasn't quite sure what to say. Sure, he had disobeyed her wishes, but something about her reaction seemed off. "Has something…happened?"
Belle's nostrils flared. "His body was lying on the floor of the church."
"Who's-?
"The Beast's!" She hissed, rubbing her eyes, and Lumiere jolted. "Skinned and rugged, right there at the foot of the alter. You'd think he were still alive the way his face was relaxed and unspoiled. I could see his eyes—his glass eyes were wide open and he was looking right through me and I couldn't—!" She took a quick breath. "I don't know how in God's name I'm going to do this, Lumiere! I need to be strong for myself and for all of you, but I keep finding myself—" She stopped fast. Lumiere looked stricken with grief.
"Lumiere," she started, her temper lessening.
He shook his head in disbelief, his eyes wide and shaking. "They…skinned the master's body?"
Belle's heart dropped to her stomach. Lumiere covered his mouth and stumbled backward, nearly falling back into the stream.
"What more—?" He gasped, visibly shaking, and Belle felt a stab of guilt. "What more could they possibly do—to—to—?" He couldn't even finished, and the young woman was alarmed to find tears pooling up in his eyes.
She should have delivered the news with diplomacy. Or not told him at all. After all, Lumiere had known the Beast since the day he was born. To learn that the body of a lifelong companion had been vandalized and corrupted must have been beyond abhorrent, and now Belle regretted ever telling the poor candelabra the fate of the Beast's remains.
Lumiere choked back a sob, trying with all his might to hold them back. "I—I can't believe y-you saw that!" He whispered hoarsely. "I'm so sorry, Mademoiselle."
Belle practically fell over. "You're sorry? You're sorry-?" She shut her mouth and gathered him in her arms without another word. For a while, they remained like that, and Lumiere managed to get himself under control rather quickly.
When the moment of grief had passed, Belle moved a hand to the side of his wax face. "You have nothing to be sorry for," she whispered, smiling brokenly. "You didn't ask for this. You didn't ask for anything. In fact, you did everything a good person would do."
"I-I meant for…" Lumiere trailed off, glancing at the bridge.
There was a pause, and Belle took a deep breath. "Why wouldn't you honor my wishes?" She asked. "You knew I would to talk to Gaston and that he would have to be in the best mood to listen. "Why risk it?"
Lumiere was astounded. "He will never change his mind about us. I've only known him for so long, but I know a stubborn brute when I see one." Lumiere pulled back off of her lap. "Mademoiselle, whether or not you reside in the castle, I will continue to serve you. I will try everything to make sure you're safe."
Belle got to her feet and bit her lower lip. She knew he was right. Despite his absence, Gaston hadn't moved an inch on the matter. Regardless... "He will kill you when he has the chance," she murmured, gazing into his eyes, "so do NOT give him that chance. Please—" She took a shuddering breath and rubbed a palm against her forehead.
"We lost so much already—we can't lose you too!" She drew in another sharp breath and rubbed her eyes, and it was then that Lumiere realized she'd been holding back tears herself.
The candelabra hopped closer, ready to deliver a resounding close. "You—" He stopped, looked away, and shook his head. "You can't blame me and I can't blame you. Not for his choices. You CAN blame me for leaving when I wasn't supposed to," he admitted. "But I needed to make sure you'd be safe."
"I'll be just fine!" She cried and drew away. "I will never succumb to him. I will never break. I am human! But you, Cogsworth, Mrs. Potts, the Beast—!" She slammed her mouth shut and turned on her heels, staring pointedly at the ground. The Beast's lifeless body was burning a grotesque image in her brain, and her stomach churned. They were all so vulnerable as they were, and she'd begun to wish she'd never let her father travel alone. What would her absence have changed, other than the promise that Gaston never would have mobbed the place?
"We…We're not as helpless as we seem, Mademoiselle," Lumiere breathed, still surprised by her outburst. Belle turned around and he went still. "We are not," he repeated, though not as strong as before, mostly because of her plucking him up from the ground. "We can navigate on our own," he pointedly insisted as she walked along the bridge, "we can craft, we can plan, we can hide, we can fight—perhaps not as effectively, but regardless—and we can…we can help you if we want to."
Belle slowed to a stop and her glare softened. Taking a deep breath to calm her nerves, she tried one last time. "I know you have naught but the best intentions," she spoke slowly, "but I don't…" She trailed, at a loss of what to say to steer the candelabra in the direction she wanted.
"Please accept me," Lumiere begged, laying a candleholder on her wrist, "not as a tiresome liability, but as someone who just wants to see you safe and content. If you'll have me as that, I will give my word not to throw myself in the face of danger at every given turn."
Belle smiled brokenly, and conceded. Lumiere was right. She could not stop him, nor any other member of their company from trying to help her, lest she restrict their freedom ever more. They were loyal to a fault, and so invested in providing service to her, not because of their jobs, but because they cared. She couldn't push them away any longer. Still…
"You drive a hard bargain," she groaned good-naturedly, and Lumiere smiled proudly in spite of himself.
"Alright then. You," she paused a moment, and gave him the smallest of smiles, "you have my word."
"It's an affaire!" He proclaimed, and held out his holder for her to shake. She wrapped her large hand around it and sealed the deal.
That was when the moment was interrupted by a familiar face. Phillipe approached, snorting softly.
"Phillipe!" Belle exclaimed, grasping the horses muzzle with her free hand. "Where have you been?"
Behind the horse, the gaggle of ladies who were assigned to dress Belle sprinted over to her, their skirts billowing out behind them as they paused to catch their breath. It was rather comical, and Belle would have giggled if not for the gloom in the air.
"Oh!" Belle exclaimed, heart thudding in her chest. "Bonjour again!"
"Ma—" The woman panted, hunched over, and Belle felt a bit sorry for them. "M-Mademoiselle, forgive us for…for pressing, but we need to help you dress. The wedding is only in a few hours!"
Belle froze. "I-I…" She trailed, hid Lumiere behind her back, and then straightened as an idea struck her. "I am going back to the castle."
The group of women blanched and one of the ladies gasped. "The castle? My dear, it is not safe! It's cursed, a-and far! You don't have enough time!"
"It won't be long," Belle promised, unhitching her horse from the heavy cart. "Gaston fancied an heirloom in the hall that I'm going to fetch for him. At least then I won't have to worry about a wedding gift."
"An heirloom?"
"Gift?"
The group of ladies glanced at one another with uncertainty. "How long will it take for you to get there and back?"
"An hour or so, as the horse rides," the young woman assured, and mounted Phillipe before shoving Lumiere in the satchel that was hooked to the side. "Don't worry. I'll be back before you know it."
…
As Phillipe galloped off into the woods, Lumiere burst from the satchel. "What-?" He spluttered. "What are you planning?"
Belle held the satchel close to her so that it didn't bounce anymore from the gait, and informed him. "Gaston will never stop hunting you when you're like this. If you're human, he'll have no claim over you."
Lumiere blinked. "Are you suggesting that-?
"That there's still a way to break the spell? I hope so," she muttered. " I thought that the best thing to do would be to lay low until the fire burned out, but you were right. Gaston won't budge. Turning you back is the only way now."
"But how?" Lumiere asked. "I mean, Cogsworth always insisted that "trails of magic could be harnessed", but I don't understand how that would work. Besides," he shuddered, "I don't dabble in that. Too risky."
Belle frowned thoughtfully. "I think the first thing we need to worry about is where to find something in the castle that was, for certain, touched by the enchantress. Something she left behind.."
"The rose!"
Belle could have kissed him. "Perfect!"
Author's note: Oh, Lumiere… It's so close to the end. Right around the corner, actually.