Yay I have a new update for you! Here we have what several people have been waiting for: the meeting between Cecilia and the beast. So. Be afraid. Be very afraid. But also be excited. And read it. Now. Seriously, why are you still reading my silly little note? You know you want to get to the story. Do it, then. NOW!

Chapter 10: The Encounter

Cecilia looked around. This was the same hall she had seen in her dreams, but much older, more decrepit. The floor was covered in dust, and her bare feet sank in disgustingly. The tapestries on the wall were rotted and moth-eaten, and the paintings were mildewed beyond recognition. The shining walls and banisters that seemed so recent to her were long gone, lost in the decay of the grimy halls.

Echoing louder all around her were whispering voices, voices her father had told her about, but which she only now believed. Here they were dim and faint, but she knew they would get louder as she moved through the halls. Although she was eager to explore, she felt she had to stay where she was, let him find her. She was equal to any noble, she reminded herself. She would not lose herself in the castle like some ignorant peasant. But neither would she stand awkwardly around.

Although neither choice appealed to her, she chose to wait for him. So she leaned against a pillar and waited, humming softly.

He came so suddenly she had a hard time believing he had not been there all along. It seemed one instant the stairwell was empty and the next his large, hulking shape filled it. Oh, he was horrible to look at! He walked half-upright like a dancing bear, but it was evident he could lope along quite well on all fours. He had a head almost like a lion's, but also like a wolf's. His fur was, as far as she could see in the dim light, some dark shade speckled with gray. He was a great deal taller than she was, and behind him swished a plumed tail like that of a retriever.

She couldn't help gasping. At her voice he began to move forward again, and as he approached she began to notice more about him- the way his long, sharp claws clicked against the flagstones, his long, yellowed teeth. She fought the urge to run desperately and maintained control.

"What?" he asked. For so horrid a beast, his voice, a low growl, was almost musical. "Am I so terrible?"

Somehow she found the voice to say, "I couldn't tell you. I haven't been able to see until this last hour."

"But I frighten you?" he asked, a mournful tone coming into his voice.

"A bit," she confessed, trying to still her trembling.

"It cannot be helped. I will tell you, however, in the vain hope that you'll believe it, that I will not hurt you."

He better not, she thought. I'm here to save him. I'm his only chance. With this reasoning, it was easy for her to keep her head.

"What is your name, anyway?" he asked.

Cecilia Tinker, the name was poised on her tongue, but what came out instead was, "I am the Lady Eirian, and I am here to break your spell."

He seemed almost as surprised as she by her outburst, but his face hardly changed. Probably it couldn't.

"Well, then," he said, "we shall have to accommodate you here."

She glanced around. "Where?" she asked, the snooty tone still in her voice. "This castle hardly seems suitably clean for me to live here."

"I'm afraid," he said coldly in reply, "that due to the nature of my curse, I have no servants. You will have to make due."

She let out an overly noble "Harumph!" before allowing him to lead her to a fine guest bedroom on the second floor.

It was as dusty and dank as the rest of the castle. He left her alone to unpack the small pack she had brought with her and make herself comfortable. As soon as the door shut behind her, she let loose a shrieking sigh of frustration.

The room itself wasn't bad. In the center, up against the wall, was a large four-poster bed framed by heavy velvet curtains, dull with dust, but once, she could tell, a brilliant burgundy. The bed was covered by a comforter of burgundy and gold, thick with feathers. There was a plethora of pillows- at least five, not counting shams. Could she have sold the bed, she and her father could have eaten well for probably the rest of their lives, it was so rich.

At the foot of the bed was a wooden chest. She opened it, lifted out the spiders and mice that had nested inside, and placed her sack inside. Beneath her feet was a thick Oriental carpet, with a pattern of red roses around the outside and birds and vines on a sable background in the middle. Her feet sunk into it pleasantly, but large clouds of dust rose whenever she took a step. She would have to clean this room soon.

Directly across from the bed was a large fireplace, with a small pile of logs next to it and a poker leaning against the wall beside it. From the sheer amount of dust on the logs, she could tell the fireplace hadn't been used at least since the castle was cursed and probably longer. Still, it looked as though it could easily heat the entire room in the dead of winter, which would come all too soon- but surely she wouldn't be here that long.

On the wall adjacent to the fireplace was a large window. It was grimy enough that she couldn't see out, and the thick velvet curtains were all but closed, but it would let in a good deal of light once she cleaned the windows. Listen to me, she thought. Barely here an hour and already planning how to clean the place up for a lifelong stay.

Still, she thought, as she toured the adjoining spider-ridden bathroom, I shall have to make it habitable, no matter how long I plan on staying.

He had returned to his lair and was conversing with the armchair when the Lady Eirian entered.

"Oh," she said, surprised, but it was obvious she had been looking for him. "I'm terribly sorry to interrupt"- the look on her face was quite confused as she glanced from him to the armchair- "but I wanted to know where cleaning materials are, so that I can begin to clean my room." There was, again, that obvious tone of disdain.

Grunting, he muttered an order for her to follow him, and he led her to a storage closet he had discovered years ago, with a heavy bucket, a mop, and lye soap, along with various other cleaning supplies. He knew, of course, that there was another closet just around the corner from his room, but his inner perversity- that which had gotten him into this mess- took her to the one a floor below and three halls away from her room. He chuckled to himself as he led her, but because of the nature of his throat it sounded much like a wheeze of exhaustion, for which he was sure she mistook it. All the better for him, anyway.

He wondered if she realized how far astray he had led her, but when he glanced at her face she looked merely dismayed that she would have to lug so much so far. However, the look soon passed and was replaced with a cool mask of gratitude.

"Thank you," she said politely, but seemed to stumble over what to say next. He had given her no name.

"I don't," he said, taking pity on her discomfort, "really have a name. I don't remember mine anymore, and few others mention it if they do remember it. You may call me Beast, if you must give me a name."

Her eyes widened and her eyebrows lifted as she inhaled in shock at the detrimental name he had given himself. Still, she maintained her composure- although, he noted, she struggled- and said coolly, "Very well. Thank you, Beast."

"You're welcome," he said gruffly, and then turned as to leave. He remained just around the corner, however, and watched as she placed a bar of soap, several rags, and the mop in the bucket, tucked the broom under her arm, and staggered away in the opposite direction.

She rose, sweating, from her labor as the sun sank below the castle walls. Despite several hours' hard work, she had barely cleaned the bathroom, first taking the spiders and placing them outside the leaded glass window, then dusting away the webs and volumes of dust, then sneezing profusely, then scrubbing the porcelain of the bathtub and washbasin. She had swept, mopped, and scrubbed the floors, and wiped the mirror clean. The carved frame, she noticed, would take far more delicate dusting work than she currently had patience for, and so she let it be. She had been about to move into the bedroom when the first hunger pangs struck her and she realized she hadn't eaten since a small loaf of bread with some cheese that morning. And so she had given up for the day, transporting the cleaning supplies down the halls and stairs to the closet the Beast had shown her, thinking furiously every time the bucket painfully bumped her knees, Surely there is another closet closer to my bedroom!

The Beast. She had begun to think of him simply as that, not as some cursed prince, or her parents' former employer, or even the cause of her mother's death. He had told her to call him that, and she had been amazed that he had. One so arrogant as this prince was purported to be could surely never give himself a detrimental name like Beast voluntarily. He had to truly think so little of himself, and Cecilia felt pity for him for that. No man deserved to hate himself that much.

She wandered the castle halls aimlessly and eventually ended up in the kitchen. The whispers that had followed her- there were none in her room, she noticed suddenly- were loud here, and she could tell by the unusual placement of several utensils which were the source of the whispering.

"Is there," she began, then stopped, realizing the absurdity of it all. She tried again. "Is there any food here?"

A pot on the floor at her feet said, quite clearly, "I do not think so, but ask the Master."

She would have to seek him out, then. Groaning softly, she thanked the pot and walked to the Beast's room, where she found him once again, this time sleeping in a darkened corner on the far side of his room.

"Excuse me," she tried to say, but it came out a near-silent whisper. "Beast?"

He grunted and rolled over. She wondered what he was dreaming about.

Cautiously she crossed the room. As she stood helplessly beside him, unsure as to whether or not she should wake him, she heard a voice behind her call softly, "Master."

The Beast groaned and opened his eyes. He started at Cecilia's presence, but regained his composure quickly.

"What do you need, my lady?" he asked courteously, but she noted a tone of sarcasm in his voice. It was a small thing, but it was enough to throw her.

"I was wondering," she said, struggling to maintain her previous imperiousness, "if you were going to serve me food at any time today."

He growled. "I wasn't prepared for your arrival, my lady, and therefore we have no suitable food for you. Hopefully you have brought something?"

Cecilia scowled back at him. "Very well," she said coolly. "Thank you, Beast."

In her room she found a slightly stale roll and a block of cheese that she had packed in case her journey took her longer than expected. She ate it slowly, planning on saving some in case she was in this same situation tomorrow. Then she pulled back the dusty covers and crawled into the bed, where she fumed until finally she fell asleep.
Aww aren't they cute? (Well I think they are...)

Now I'm going to rant about you guys again- almost up to 1000 hits! Plus over 30 reviews...Come on, don't tell me you aren't excited. It's awesome, and it's all you, not me. (Well, okay, maaaaaybe...jkjk)

So let's add more reviews (How about we shoot for 40 total? That's only 8 on this chapter). Now click the small review button and review. Do it now. No, now! Why is this so hard for you? Why can't you just ignore me? Sheesh...

!--Mazzie--!

(FYI I'm seriously joking, in case you can't pick that up. I'm not mad at you at all. So don't hurt me, please!)