Authors note: So... I was halfway through this chapter, had it all planned out, but then I realised that it didn't work. This happens quite a lot, I write something, then rewrite it, and sometimes I just scrap the entire thing when I think it's not right and that is essentially what happened here with this chapter, so apologises for the delay! It's also one of the longest I think that I have written and I am also abroad right now, so that is another excuse for my tardiness. Nevertheless, I hope you enjoy this chapter. Think of it as the beginning of the second movement of a three-part symphony (yes, I know we are only that far into the story haha). As always, like, follow and comment, hopefully the following instalment to this will come soon, probably around the end of this month, so stay tuned, and happy reading everyone!
Chapter 21
Belle sat rigidly in her chair as the Prince continued to pace right and left across the balcony. She tried her best not to shiver while waiting with gritted teeth for the arrogant man to finally turn and face her properly.
She wanted this, whatever 'this' was, to be over with quickly; for her to receive whatever scornful words the Prince wished her to accept, before retreating back to the safety of the kitchen quarters downstairs in swift fashion.
Their exchange, however, had been an odd one thus far.
Coming into the West Wing itself had not been such a taxing experience for Belle, for Mrs Potts had come down promptly the very next morning to announce in a calm and measured manner, that the Prince was requesting her immediate presence in his quarters.
Belle did not let her heart sink at hearing this news; she had been expecting it. Waking up early, she had guessed, quite rightly, that although the Prince never left his room, he was almost always awake, which meant she could be called upon at any time of day, be it mere hours after their previous encounter.
While following Mrs Potts up to the West Wing, Belle noticed acutely that the Head of Staff was saying very little, but it was clear from the tension between the two women and the stern look on Mrs Potts' face, that the mature, older one of the two was at least a little aware of what had transpired the night before. Whether she felt disapproval towards Belle or the Prince, the young woman could not tell, but she guessed it was directed towards them both, for their equally reckless behaviour.
"He is waiting for you," was the last thing the disconcerted lady said to Belle before opening the double doors slowly and gesturing for her to enter inside.
Much like the last time they had spoken to each other, Belle heard the Prince long before she ever saw him. He stood at the very end of his quarters within the balcony, staring out towards the grounds, his back turned to her. His figure was so still that, if Belle had not recognised him, she would have mistaken him for a statue.
As it was, the Duke said very little, pointing towards a single, overtly decorated golden chair, placed right in the middle of the dim balcony. As Belle approached the Prince, the light surrounding her became dimer and she felt a shiver run down her spine as her own footsteps echoed quietly off the cold marble floor.
Winter was approaching, which meant it was getting darker and darker by the day, so this early in the morning, the castle was still hidden in darkness and the grounds were covered in frost. Although the balcony was covered in crystal glass, giving it almost the appearance of a greenhouse, it was still bitterly cold, and the sun had not yet broken across the horizon. As such, Belle could not make out the Prince's exact movements, but she nevertheless sat down dutifully, folding her hands into her lap before waiting, with shivered breath, for supposedly the Duke's next words.
If she felt any guilt about what had happened the night before, it was long gone by the time Belle sat in that chair. The young woman had spent the entire previous night justifying her actions well enough so that should the Prince accuse her of doing anything beyond logical reason, she would be able to answer him promptly and shut down any foolishness he might subject her to admit to.
So far however, thought Belle as she continued to stare at 'said' Prince, a man who was still pacing up and down in front of the crystal double doors like an unruly lion, he had said very little, giving her only a brief, withering look of irritation before turning his back on her again and staring moodily out towards the grounds below.
If Belle had not been so occupied with trying to deduce how their conversation was to proceed, she would have realised the Prince was, in fact, nervous. Alas, the only thing she assumed from his strange behaviour was that he was angry with her and still a little drunk from whatever he had consumed in the early morning after their brief confrontation. He had not changed his clothes, not even taking off the long-tattered cloak she'd held on to when they had travelled back to the castle the night before.
After several minutes of excruciating silence, the Prince finally turned to face Belle, the irritable expression still very much intact. He looked tired, the skin under his eyes dark and sallow-looking, as if he had not slept a wink. This, at least, he had in common with Belle.
"I don't need to explain to you why your behaviour last night was extremely foolish," he began. "You are intelligent enough to know."
His voice was rough and coarse, which strangely put Belle at ease. It gave him a tangible sense of vulnerability, which had been otherwise absent when she had known him prior to the fire. He observed Belle precariously through the dim candlelight, as if she were some wild, unstable creature, the irony of which was not missed by Belle. His hair was wiry, half obscuring his face and his sharp blue gaze reminded her of the glittering eyes of the wolf from the night before.
"Why did you not alert the guards?"
Belle blinked as the Prince's scathing voice brought her back to the present dilemma at hand. It was not the question she had been expecting.
"I was having trouble sleeping sir, which is why I came outside. It was the full moon so the grounds were brightly lit and-"
"Then why in God's name didn't you take someone with you?" interrupted the Prince, his voice worn out and exasperated, as if he were talking to a child. "Or better yet, why did you not go to the library? Isn't that what you always do…"
Belle would have retorted back immediately but something about his countenance made her hesitate. He had spoken with a certain sense of defeatism, as if he could be bothered to argue with her, but also, strangely, melancholy. He had his back turned towards her but only halfway, with his hand on his hip and the other pinching the bridge of his nose, as if he were suffering from some excruciatingly painful migraine.
Not knowing what to think of his sudden change in attitude, Belle did her best to ignore it and answer his question.
"I needed some fresh air sir," she replied, horrified to hear the lack of conviction in her voice.
"Fresh air," repeated the Duke slowly, as if he needed time to fully register her meaning. He remained turned away from her.
"It is not as if you were any different sir," continued Belle, wishing to progress their exchange, but her voice came out sounding petty. "You were outside, just like me!"
"It's different with me!" said the Prince hoarsely, sharply manoeuvring himself to glare down at Belle but in doing so, revealing the unhinged look on his face, which only caused her to look up at him with alarm.
"Sir I-" began Belle again but the Prince interrupted her once more.
"I am the master of this castle!" he snarled, coming slightly closer towards her, nearly putting his hand on her chair but then stopping, as if he did not trust himself. "You do realise there were wolves out there? You could have been killed last night if I had not been there to protect you!"
"Protect me?" repeated Belle after a stunning moment of silence, her voice taking on a sharper edge as her eyes narrowed, matching the Prince's icy coldness. "I did not need your protection sir, because there was no danger. There were never any wolves within the grounds as far as I recall!"
"You and I both know we heard a pack of them pass very close by," said the Prince, his blue eyes glinting precariously through the near darkness. "You were close enough to the border, and I know you were about to pass through those loose rails, don't deny it!"
Belle gasped in response to the Duke's bitter accusations. As she stared up at him, she wondered about what he was really implying.
Blinking down at the floor in her seat, she turned to lift her head high.
Did he really think her to have such low principles?
"I dropped a letter just outside the railing sir," replied Belle, her voice shaking from the blood blooding inside of her, "that is all-"
"You cannot excuse your behaviour and I will certainly not excuse those who fail to keep a closer eye on the woods effectively!"
The Prince's voice echoed off the walls of the West Wing, slowly dying as each second passed by. Yet Belle could still hear his scornful words long after they had disappeared into the morning mist and she sat speechless as the meaning behind the his powerful outburst slowly started to take shape in her mind.
"What exactly," she started, the wheels in her head turning, "do you mean by that?"
The Prince blinked, seemingly startled by her quiet response and also realizing that he had let something slip. His posture turned hard and rigid as he took a step back, his face half in shadow.
"Forget I said anything, it is immaterial to this discussion."
Belle could do nothing but stare in response to such a bloodless reply and knew at once she had exposed something the Prince wanted to remain hidden.
"Someone must pay as a consequence for what happened last night," he continued as Belle gave no response. His voice would have sounded resolute and commanding to most but to Belle's ears it sounded false. Yet she was surprised he had revealed as much to her, though she had said nothing.
"What have you done?" she asked bluntly, refusing to revert her gaze, although he continued to look to the side in a stoic but distant manner. Throughout their encounters, he had always been the one to question her thoroughly beyond reason. Belle felt it only fair now to ask him some cutting queries of her own.
The disgruntled man took his time, hesitating before giving a reply, immediately noticing a change within Belle's voice. His gaze transformed as a result and he took on an even more guarded expression than before. Though it was hard to tell because of his beard, Belle was sure he had his mouth turned into that of a grimace.
"The guard who was supposed to be patrolling that area of the woods just beyond the gates, was found wandering about in the early hours of the morning," explained the Prince, his voice pedantic, as if he were almost disappointed by the turn of their volatile conversation. "He was completely unaware of the predicament he had left in us last night, despite the fact that it was his duty to know you were there by the very edge of the woods."
"One man?" uttered Belle slowly, hardly believing her ears.
The Prince looked at her with frustration, seemingly resentful of her rather hollow reaction. Gritting his teeth, he turned roughly away from Belle, his eyes reflecting for the first time something other than mere cold passivity. When he did not respond promptly, Belle decided to prod him further.
"One man was supposed to patrol that entire area?" she continued, her gaze following the Duke's figure as he began to pace again around the balcony, his billowing robe trailing after him like ominous fog which never truly settles during a cold winter's morning.
"The point, Belle, is that he failed to perform his job successfully," replied the Prince after a moment of careful thinking but it was glaringly obvious that he lacked conviction. "As a result of his unprofessionalism, he put yo- he put us in danger!"
He had come closer towards Belle during his shaky outburst, leaving the young woman to see his expression much clearer than before.
There was a time when she would have been terrified by the power of his voice, his ominous silhouette in the near darkness, his unmistakably blue eyes unflinching as they peered down at her, without any hint of feeling.
Belle sat still in her chair, her hands still folded in her lap. Her eyebrows shifted slightly as she heard the Prince stumble through his words and she thought back to when he used to speak eloquently, his voice like velvet, tightly controlled and unwavering. This wild, unkempt man before her may have appeared much more threatening than the gleaming Prince of before, but for some reason Belle concluded, quite bravely, that he presented much more bark than actual bite.
"Where is he?" she asked calmly as the Prince breathed heavily in and out, seeming not to fully register her quiet words.
"That is none of your concern," he replied scathingly as he turned away from her and leaned his hands against the window pane, his shoulders rising and falling rapidly with each breath.
"He is where he should be."
His words this time were unflinching in their execution.
"You imprisoned him, didn't you?" whispered Belle, guessing somehow from the Prince's reluctance to look at her. "How could you do such a thing?"
"How could I?" he replied, his voice quivering like thunder as he turned slowly to look at Belle with a sideways glance, his luminous hair falling across his forehead. "You don't know the first thing about what it means to be a ruler, do you? If I had let him go free, entire villages would begin to assume there were no consequences to their actions and that is something I cannot allow."
"I don't believe you think this is the only viable solution sir!" exclaimed Belle, this time rising from her seat. "The reason he was out there on his own, I suspect, is because of financial difficulty on your part. If you imprison him now, word will spread and-"
"The public will learn their lesson and do what they were ordered to do!" finished the Prince stepping towards Belle with purpose, no longer defensive as he was before. "Do not speak of things you cannot possibly understand!"
"They will do so out of fear sir, not out of loyalty, as I once told you before," replied Belle resolutely, ignoring the Prince's scathing claims of her lack of knowledge. "Besides, you would practically be asking for a revolt against you!"
Something about their current argument reminded Belle of a conversation they had had before, not too long ago. Loyalty...
"I told you once before that I don't know a single thing about that. Loyalty."
Belle lowered her eyes as the Prince spoke softly, the conversation immediately diminishing in intensity. He must have recognised the halt in her speech and her sudden change in gaze; it was the only explanation of the absence of frustration in his voice.
The young librarian hardly registered the man's words however as she thought about his strange reaction the day before. Belle's eyes widened as she came to a certain conclusion. Surely, he must know why she was here...
"Is that why you thought I was trying to leave?" she uttered, lifting her head to look directly at the Prince, who was once more mere feet away from her.
For his part, the young man's expression turned into that of alarm, looking, perhaps for the first time, inarticulate. For one bizarre moment, Belle almost thought he looked scared. His eyes quickly shifted all around her face as the moment passed, as if trying to search for something. It took a while but Belle finally realised he was searching for anything which suggested negativity, such as sarcasm, criticism or dishonesty.
If nothing had occurred at this precise moment to disrupt their conversation, perhaps things would have taken a different turn, but alas, this was never meant to be.
The two beings both flinched at the same time as they heard disruption come from beyond the outer doors of the Prince's quarters. The rising sound of a populated hallway reached their ears as they turned to look behind themselves at the entrance of the Wing.
Belle, within the private confines of her mind, was glad for the sudden break in their exchange, because she knew the Prince would have turned to besmirch her suggestion or worse, accuse her trying to expose his vulnerabilities. The voice of the Prince finally broke through their inner silence, a completely separate space to the carnage they could hear coming from outside. Belle turned to look at him once more, this time in a much more hesitant fashion.
"I am guessing that you would preferably want to leave at this juncture but also not wish anyone to know you were here with me as it would attract unwanted gossip."
Belle shifted the weight of her feet, as she was prone to do, while trying to form some response within her mind but the Prince continued on, his voice nonchalant as he took one step towards her.
"Leaving the West Wing now, therefore, would not serve to be in your best interest."
Perhaps the Prince had seen the worry etched across Belle's face. Though his face was passive, his voice was tinged ever so slightly with a certain bitterness, and Belle knew his pride was hurt by the nebulously-tarnished reputation he was now shouldered with.
Before she could give an appropriate answer, he passed her by, a faint breeze gently grazing her skin as the Prince walked towards a large oil-painting situated by the left wall, depicting a group of wild grey horses galloping through a shallow river.
"Belle, would you like to leave?" asked the Prince quietly while looking casually up at the picture in front of him.
"What?" stammered Belle, turning in alarm to stare at his back. Perhaps he had drunk a little more than she had initially estimated.
"Would you like to escape, just for a little bit?"
Belle blinked as she stared at the Duke, who turned to look at her when she didn't immediately respond.
"I…." she breathed, before silently shaking her head as the Prince leaned his head forward slightly and folding his arms behind his back.
"I know all about gossip," he began, his voice a little softer and more humorous than usual, "and the heaviness that comes with it. So, I am asking you politely, if would you prefer to escape."
Belle opened her mouth as if to speak but she could not immediately form any words. Although she felt very little effect when it came to the Prince's anger, for some reason, when it came to abrupt changes in mood, she could almost never keep up.
"I don't think I understand what you are saying sir," she replied, still nonplussed, as the Prince began to smirk and place his hand along the wall of limestone beside the grand painting.
"This castle was built long before your little village existed," said the Prince, pushing the palm of his hand into one of the blocks of stone, which began to shift very slowly. "And as such, it's various nooks and crannies remain a mystery, or at the very least, long forgotten by its inhabitants."
Belle stepped closer, looking up in fascination as she heard the sound of something metallic clinking into the place and the previously seemingly meaningless large portrait rattle in response.
"Let's just say I was rather curious as a child and had too much time on my hands," muttered the Prince as he lifted his arms and pulled the painting down, revealing behind it a large, gaping hole.
"Is that," breathed Belle as she squinted her eyes, trying to look beyond the wall and through the pitch-black pathway beyond.
"Yes, indeed, it is," replied the Prince swiftly as he placed the painting down and stood up straight, showing no signs of fatigue. "One of many walkways within this castle."
As Belle tried to discern what lay beyond, she was immediately reminded of another similar passageway Plumette had lead her through, mere days after she had first arrived at the castle.
"Where does it lead?" she asked, unable to hide her curiosity.
"Many different places, but I use it mainly to escape," answered the Prince promptly, pulling himself up into the hole and then turning to look back at Belle, who was now staring at him incredulously. "Hence why people seem to call me-"
"The phantom prince," finished Belle, her eyes glazing over as she ruminated. "That's how you have been wandering about the castle all these months?"
"You sound surprised," replied the Prince as he looked down at Belle sardonically. "But yes, that is how I have been getting around. And it is how I offer you now to escape being noticed by whoever is strutting about the entrance to my quarters, which they most certainly ought not to be doing."
Belle felt her initial excitement ebb away slightly as she looked up at the Prince, who was once more obscured by darkness, hunched over slightly due to the low ceiling of the passageway.
The sound from outside the quarters grew louder still, and it gave the impression that a whole herd of people was now crowded around the entrance. Belle turned to look at the double doors with certain apprehension in her eyes.
"The choice is yours of course," continued the Prince, "but if I were you, I would not want to step out of there at present."
Looking back at him, Belle could not help letting out a sigh of unwilling agreement. He was right. Mrs Potts knew perfectly well where she was, but she had come that morning to Belle's quarters, speaking in very hushed tones. There were already unseemly rumours floating about the castle about her association with the Prince, and if she were caught coming out of the West Wing by anyone other than the Heads of Household, it would not bode well for her.
"Very well," she replied, hoisting her skirts and coming closer towards her only viable escape route, but just as she came up to lift herself up, the Prince stopped her, pointing towards a low table behind her, placed next to an elaborate writing desk.
"Take the candelabra," he muttered, looking towards it before reverting his gaze back to Belle. "Once I close this trap door, it will become very dark inside."
Stepping cautiously back towards the inner Wing and picking up the candelabra as the Prince had instructed her to do, Belle began to wonder about whether following him was really such a good idea. She was not a shrinking violet however, and somehow, Belle knew she could trust him at this particular juncture.
"Now come here, put the candle to the side and give me your hand."
Taking one last look at the door before turning to see the Prince's arm extended out towards her, Belle noticed it was the only part of him not hidden in darkness.
Her last thought before leaving the premises was a simple but poignant one.
I hope this is not a mistake.
…..
The passageway was dark, but the Prince was used to that by now. He could hear her struggling behind him though, barely managing to keep up as he held the candelabra in front of them, illuminating slightly their pathway beyond. Luckily only the entrance was slightly cramped, and once they got to the main walkway, he did not need to hunch over any longer.
She had refused his hand and gotten up to the entrance of his secret passageway by herself, leaving him standing rather dumbly with his hand outstretched. This he felt to be an insult but she had already begun to walk on, asking him rather brazenly which way they were to go. After putting the painting up and shutting the trap door successfully, the Prince had caught up to her quickly, snatched the candelabra from her hand and told her to stay behind him and simply follow his lead. Although he did appreciate her steadfastness, now was not the time for that.
What followed was cool silence from both of them, but after a few minutes, the Prince was becoming aware that although he could see very well in front him, Belle could not.
Stopping at a turn where the passageway split into three different directions, the Prince turned just to see the woman nearly trip over due to a loose floorboard.
"I'm fine!" she exclaimed as she clung onto the nearby wall, once again refused his hand and lifting herself up, swiping the dust off her skirt before looking up at him expectantly.
"This is ridiculous," replied the Duke bluntly, before gesturing for her to take his arm.
When she did not move, the disgruntled man begrudgingly carried on, becoming ever more irritated that she was staring at him apprehensively. He knew why, but for some reason, it angered him to see Belle looking at him this way.
"Will you please take my arm?" he asked, his voice hard as granite. "I really don't need you flailing about and creating unnecessary noise. You will scare the staff and inspire them to think the castle is now haunted."
Perhaps it was the mere trick of candlelight, but he could swear the damn girl had turned away and began to smirk at his comment.
Thankfully she did take his arm, and they spent the remainder of their journey just so, walking quietly towards their destination.
The Prince did not turn to look at Belle at all and once again, they walked in silence.
He was surprised the little chit had not turned to ask him why he had offered her to come this way or where exactly it was they were going.
Adam himself did not really know. Oh, he knew where they were going but he did not know why exactly he had suddenly felt the urge to lead her through here.
Perhaps it was the sudden interruption to their conversation, when she had suggested rather unexpectedly that he feared her desertion.
The Prince let out a frustrated sigh, causing the girl to flinch slightly and tighten her grip on his arm. It was just as well. He knew she feared him in some way, and yet her quiet intuitiveness sent a cold dagger through him during moments when he least expected it. Like the time she had noticed his love for literature, or when she had pleaded that he let Augustin see him.
She frightened him, with that clear gaze, as if she saw right through him.
He ought to have turned her away, stayed as far away from her as possible, but he had accepted on the night of the fire, that she was his current source of desire.
A desire he wanted but at the same time could not take like those he had taken before. Somehow, ever since that night when they had first met he knew, he instinctively knew, she was different. He lost the urge to devour her, to be rid of her, and now he felt content merely to be in her presence.
Pathetic, the Prince that night at the ball would have said.
In truth, it was not that long ago, but it felt curiously like an age.
Deep in thought, he did not realize that they had arrived, and as he looked up, he noticed the rickety door in front, the early morning sunshine piercing through as they approached it and the Prince felt the cold morning air drafting through as well.
"We're here," he muttered before lowering his arm, causing Belle to let go. He had not noticed it throughout their journey, but her hand had grown warm and calmed him somehow so that he did not mind the dark or their lack of conversation. The cold morning air however seemed to wake him up and put his silly thoughts to one side and deal with the present situation.
Opening the door, the wood resisted slightly as the Prince pushed on it before letting go, revealing that they were at the very edge of the castle, at the back of it, far away from prying eyes. Unlike the front, the back of the castle had remained untouched, remaining as it had been hundreds of years before, full of woodland and greenery.
"This is part of the grounds?" exclaimed the Belle, and the Prince could not help feeling rather pleased at the surprised tone in her voice.
After climbing out, again Belle refused his help but this time he merely smirked in response, the Prince lead her into the woods, taking his distance away from the castle so that they were hidden by the trees. He knew after all that his servants were privy to staring through the windows.
"I hope you don't mind going this way," he began, looking slightly towards Belle as she fell into step beside him. "They won't see us from this angle and it will lead right around the castle to the servant's quarters."
In the clear morning light, he could see her clearly and the slight redness in her cheeks was not missed by him. He was relieved she seemed much more relaxed after their little squabble in the West Wing. As much as her outbursts had angered him, he had grown used to them by now and was aware he both treated her and saw her differently to any other person that he knew of.
What caused him such conflict was the fact that he didn't know what to do with her.
He had also acutely aware of the fact that she despised him and everything he stood for.
"I thought you said I was to, and I quote, 'never go near the borders again'," uttered Belle while giving him a sly glance.
The Prince frowned as he shifted his gaze swiftly towards her, and for a moment, Belle's suave gaze turned into that of apprehension. Noticing her sudden nervousness, the Prince soon took to shaking his head helplessly before turning to look up at the sky in disbelief.
"Not when you're with me," he replied wistfully, completely unaware that Belle was staring at him with very round eyes. It was just as well, for it would have blossomed their conversation into a rather awkward situation.
Belle did not elicit any response, but the Prince did notice that she looked quickly away from him as they began to walk further through the wooded glade. Staring down at her from the side, the Prince found himself unwittingly studying her luscious hair, tied neatly to the back, but not preventing its brilliant colour from catching in the morning sunlight, turning it ever so slightly rosy red, like the very flowers in his rose gardens.
Looking down, he noticed a piece of parchment in her outer pocket and he was reminded of what she had first told him when explaining why she had been at the edge of the borders the night before.
After a moment of consideration, the Prince turned to pose her a question, slowing down the pace of his walk.
"The letter, it's from your father, isn't it?"
Belle turned around to face the Prince, not noticing that he had fallen behind.
"Yes," she replied, looking up at him with mild surprise.
"He misses you?"
"Yes, of course."
The Prince nodded. He remembered the outraged look on her face when he had suggested she was attempting to escape.
"You would never leave until all your debts were paid because otherwise your father would end up in debtor's prison, is that not correct?"
His gaze was lowered but he could not keep the seriousness out of his speech. It was a personal question and they both knew it.
"Well, yes…."
The Prince smiled upon hearing the hesitation in her voice.
"I'm sorry I suggested you would leave without doing so," he continued, lifting his head to smile at Belle grimly. She was staring at him as if he had just grown two horns on his head.
"You are not such a selfish human being. Ill-judgement, on my part."
"And now I don't know want to say," replied Belle, reverting her eyes nervously as she turned to face forward as the Prince began to walk again. "I was surprised you knew Cogsworth was employing people here in exchange for paying taxes."
"To a point I knew, yes," said the Prince, folding his hands around his back as they walked sich by side. "But in the past, I had no interest and I left most of it to Cogsworth to decide. It made no difference to me then, as much as that might disgust you to hear. I suppose he thought it better than to end up in debtor's prison."
When Belle did not reply, the Prince turned to see her looking at him with some hostility in her almond eyes. Her pretty mouth was pursed into a thin line and he could do nothing but look at her apprehensively before continuing on.
"I was more interested in parties and social occasions than whatever happened within my own household. I'm surprised that you find that to be surprising. It is not such a unique thing within my own circle for the workings of ones' own estate to be carried out by those in one's own employment. But perhaps it is because we are from different worlds; it must sound quite strange to you."
"It is no wonder that you revert to old ways... with such a distance between yourself and your subjects, there is no hope in your understanding them."
"I keep that distance because I want it there!" replied the Prince, feeling that suffocating sense of frustration rise within himself once more. "I have no interest in understanding the measly peasants residing in my villages-"
"But you are speaking to me sir," interrupted Belle, striding up and turning towards him, blocking his path and forcing him to look up at her. "I came from the village of Villeneuve, not that I expect you to recognise the name, and I am one of those 'measly peasants' which you speak about with such scorn!"
Looking down at the beautiful creature in front of him, she seemed not that far from a woodland nymph which might appear in one of the books in his library. The Prince could do nothing but laugh slightly in response to her self-description.
"Believe me, mademoiselle," he replied, taking one step towards her, wanting to see the slight green in her eyes, "if any of them were half as intriguing as you, I would have a huge dilemma on my hands."
He was pleased to see the result of his response on her face, a mixture of confusion and bafflement. If he was not mistaken, he even saw a hint of red in her cheeks. She did not pick up on the humour in his voice however and continued on, likely wishing to make another one of her most valid points to him.
"You cannot blame them sir. They do what you order them to do, that is all. You tax the villagers, and force them to keep you safe by patrolling the woods. It is unfortunate, what happened to the castle, but as a result you cannot afford more guards around the borders. It is not their fault that the wolves are managing to come closer to the castle than you would like. If you wish to solve this problem, then you must work together and support each other. Only then can you be sustainable as a community."
She was looking at him with such determination in his eyes that it was hard to scorn at her. He did not appreciate her criticisms; she was in no position to give them, but he could not look away from her as she delivered her speech, presenting a form of passion so pure and whole that he almost envied her for it.
"I have never heard of such a community," he replied after a moment, slowly stepping to the side and walking past Belle. "Your head is in the clouds, what you dream of is pure fantasy and has no place in this world. At least, not in my world."
"Perhaps you have not taken the time to explore all the possibilities."
"What possibilities do you suggest I contemplate then?"
He could not help challenging her slightly as he turned to look back at her, his voice light, a stark contrast to the seriousness of hers. Belle was still by the oak tree where they had stopped, her hand lent gently against its bark.
As he approached her slowly, the Prince noticed that she was shivering. He frowned with concern as he looked down at her frock, at the thin linen material covering her shoulders, clearly doing very little to keep her warm.
"I know from personal experience the villages have no means of protecting themselves because they have no borders unlike this castle," replied Belle, turning towards him and wrapping her arms around herself, giving the impression of someone who looked a lot more vulnerable than they actually were.
"That is a fact not a solution," muttered the Prince as he unclipped the clasp of his cloak and pulled it off, lifting it swiftly above Belle's head, causing her to look up at him in alarm, and wrapping it around her just as she began to open her mouth in protest.
"Sir I don't-"
"You're shivering," said the Prince bluntly, ignoring her pleas. "I can't build borders around the villages Belle, not right now. I cannot even afford to reconstruct my own castle."
"People die in the forest sir," replied Belle, moving away from the bark of the tree as she looked up at him once more with that extremely becoming look of determination on her face.
"People die in debtor's prison as well, have you never thought about the consequences? What happens if we do not pay our debts? I came here because the alternative was my father ending up dying in there!"
At this outburst, the Prince felt anger flare up within himself, despite knowing that Belle was not one to lie. As he glared at her, he knew her warm brown eyes did not display any signs of insincerity.
"You're lying," he uttered, despite himself. "People don't die in debtor's prison, they are released when they pay back what they owe, which is never much. And not a single man has died while patrolling these areas."
Belle did not immediately reply, instead having the nerve to approach him closer still and look up at him, gripping hold of his cloak tightly to her chest as she scrutinized him carefully. She seemed to be searching for something, but the Prince could not tell what. Either way, she was making him feel very uncomfortable. He could even see his own breath intermingling with hers in the cold winter air.
"Are you sure?" she asked bluntly, not reverting her gaze.
Clearly, she had no idea what effect she was having on him.
"I have never been told officially but I am sure it is the case."
It was a poor response, but given the circumstances, it was the best he could give.
"Perhaps you haven't been told because Cogsworth feels he needs to protect you from the reality," replied Belle quietly, taking one short step back, and looking up at him with that expression he hated, as if she were disappointed with him.
"But the reality is much direr than you could possibly imagine sir."
"You said I am carrying out the old ways," replied the Prince, unable to resist trying to make her understand, though there was no objective reason to do so. "My father did what his father did. He did what his father did. That is the way of things, the way of my family."
She continued to stare at him with that look in her eyes, the one seared in his brain, ever since that night in the ballroom. She still didn't understand, she still didn't know why…
"I didn't want this," exclaimed the Prince as he took one step towards her, causing Belle to take one step away from him also. His voice was coming out a lot rougher than he had wanted.
"I... I never chose."
Judging by the blank expression on her face, it was clear Belle did not know whether he was expecting an answer or not. Either way, it seemed she did not know what to say.
"I don't expect you to understand."
He cast his eyes down and turned away from her to look at the woodland, and beyond that the outer grounds. They were coming around and soon they would be near the front of the castle.
"But as a ruler, is it not your right to change things?"
The Prince blinked and out of the corner of his eye, saw Belle come and stand beside him, basking in the early morning sunlight. Though he deliberately spoke with some humour in his voice, he gazed at her rather sombrely.
"Now you're beginning to sound like Augustin."
"Perhaps he has a point," she spoke softly, glancing towards him.
An innocent enough remark, but it did escape the Prince's notice.
Looking sharply towards her, he tried to detect any signs of irregularity in her expression, but she merely stared at him in a rather serene, if not slightly sad way.
"You like him, don't you?"
The Prince cleared his throat, alarmed at the bitterness seeping through his voice.
"He is a very pleasing man, yes."
"Infuriating is what he is," growled the Prince, turning away from the picturesque scene and joining the footpath once more. "Come, time is getting on and the staff will begin to wonder where you are."
'And the girl?'
The Prince groaned as his feet slowed down, Augustin's voice filling his head. He begrudgingly turned to look at Belle, who was just about catching up to him from behind. The Duke forgot sometimes, just how fast his pace of walking was sometimes.
"I think your ideas are, quite frankly, ridiculous," he began, once she had caught up to him. "But... if things are as bad as you say, perhaps I should at least see what the real circumstances are. My estate is in shambles, so I have no choice but to put up taxes. Either way, there is nothing I can do."
"That's not necessarily true!"
The Prince smiled yet again at her boldness. Strange. Mere months ago, if someone had spoken to him thus, he would have had them thrown out of the castle.
As he prepared to answer the spritely woman, she turned towards him like a bolt of lightning and gasped, as if she had literally just been struck by one.
"What is it?" he replied in alarm, lifting his hands in concern as if to catch her.
"Let them cut down the forest," she whispered, looking somewhere beyond her own peripheral vision before glancing up towards him. For the first time, he saw true excitement sparkling in her eyes, giving her the most enchanted look he had ever seen on a human being.
"What?" he breathed, barely aware he sounded half faint.
"Let them cut down the trees surrounding their villages!"
Despite all the blinding beauty he saw before him, that one comment did not fail to make his heart pound but in a very different way.
"What?" he stammered, dropping his arms down abruptly.
"You may not be able to pay them but you could do something for them in return! How about giving them the materials they need to protect their own surroundings in exchange for patrolling the woods? You would make the border between the villages and the woods further apart, making them better protected and-"
"That invites all sorts of complications," interrupted the Prince, his authoritative voice immediately overpowering hers as he strode towards the destination once more. "Where would it end? If I start being lenient word would spread to Versailles. They would not approve of such antics. Besides, cutting down the woods, giving people something... Then they start to think they can have anything."
"That is what you have been told sir but I do not believe you sincerely believe that," replied Belle, her voice a little breathless as she tried to keep up with the Prince. "As for your reputation... Forgive me sir but it is already in tatters as it is. I doubt anything you do now would create such a dent."
The Prince's eyes darkened as he took in her words. For all her optimism, she was still woefully ignorant. He was not angered by her disrespect, but rather because she had the annoying habit of being able to speak the truth and nothing much else. A rare quality which made her seem almost unreal at times.
"Do you know what happened in Paris?" he asked gruffly, slowing his pace so she could walk beside him.
The Prince noted Belle's hesitation to answer and knew he had caught her in his web.
"I…" she began, somewhat begrudgingly, "have heard you were criticised for what happened with the castle. That you should not have helped as you did, that they shunned you because of your considerable debts which were made public."
The Prince nodded his head dutifully as he listened to her explanation.
"If that is all you have heard then that explains why you speak so freely. You indeed have not heard the worst of it. I doubt the villagers have remained as oblivious as you when it comes to what happened there. I do not think they would want to put much trust in me at present, given the fact that I am being labelled as a cold-blooded killer, like my father before me."
The Prince immediately felt the turn in the conversation. Though he was not looking at her, the Duke knew Belle was most certainly looking at him with more than apprehension in her eyes.
"What?"
It was her turn now to be rendered speechless.
"I see you do not dispute the fact. It is a believable story, given my image, and I should imagine every respectable debutante is being kept as far away from me as possible. I do not blame them."
"Sir.." began Belle, and to the Duke's surprise she did not sound so fearful as he had expected her to be. "it is not my place to ask what happened and I will not press you on the matter but I really think if you tried the outcome might surprise you-"
"Easy for you to say, being as kind and blindingly beautiful as you are," snapped the Prince, swiftly turning towards her, eyes ablaze, only to find her standing much closer towards him than he had anticipated.
"In my current state, I doubt they would want to hear a single one of my pleas."
He could not help his final words, he could not stop them from coming out of his mouth and as he observed Belle, he searched as he had many times before, for any sign of fear.
As always, the Prince was left disappointed and Belle stood resolute, her hands folded in front of her skirt, eyebrows slightly arched, eyes staring at him expectantly.
"What do you think?" he whispered as he looked down at her inviting mouth, which was pursed as ever in a thin line of disapproval.
"Sir?" she uttered as she fluttered her eyelids like a hummingbird.
"Do you still think I am a monster, like you once alluded to me I was?"
'You sir are no angel.'
As her eyes widened, the Prince silently confirmed his suspicions and looked down at the ground covered in dead leaves, a mixture of red and yellow bleeding into the soil. Though she put on a brave face, the Prince knew Belle viewed him as she ought to, even without knowing all the details.
The Duke ought to have felt satisfied at this conclusion but instead he only felt hollow inside. She did view him the way all the other servants in the castle did.
And the Prince knew this had be a good thing.
"If I told you what I did, what atrocities my family has committed, you would run, as you should have yesterday. You may not fear wolves, but you are wise to fear me."
"Do not speak nonsense sir," said Belle dismissively in response, turning to walk further down the path. "It does not suit you, as bizarre as I do find your observations at times. I do not fear you and I never will, whatever nonsense people should sprout."
The wind began to blow slightly, sweeping her hair across her face but Belle seemed to pay no mind, staring directly back at the Prince with resolution, no hint of conflict displayed on her face.
Finding it hard to look directly at her, the Duke stared beyond, down the secluded footpath as he walked up towards Belle.
"You are indeed as naive as I once said you were. But there is a certain charm to your idiotic stubbornness, I will not dispute that."
"My-" stammered the brunette, turning away from the Prince and strutting forward, refusing to face him. "Sir, you are the stubborn one, not I!"
Prince smirked and laughed silently in response to hearing the almost comical sense of constriction within her voice. He could not help pulling Belle down a few pegs after all she had thrown at him, no matter how 'just' he secretly thought her accusations to be.
"If my father were still alive, he would do more than laugh at you for speaking such language towards a superior..."
He murmured the words almost by mistake, for they had been more passive thought than something he had actively wanted to say to the extraordinary woman beside him.
His statement however, was hauntingly true. His father would have never allowed anyone to speak thus to a superior, let alone himself, as Duke. The Prince was glad his father had died before Belle had arrived at the castle. It was a sobering thought and also a warning for what was to inevitably come...
Turning to look at her, the Prince felt something leap out of his chest as he found the enchanting creature looking at him, a rather nebulous expression on her face. Her delicate chin was tilted up slightly, as if she wanted to ask a question.
For she did not belong here…
"Is it so wrong sir, to care?"
The Prince's gaze turned into that of alarm as he stared at Belle, and he felt once more his heart pound in his chest and something swell within himself. Yet again it had happened, and this time he recognized it for what it was. That she had unmistakeably, unwittingly perhaps, caught him once again.
He could do nothing but stare stoically down at her, trying to look at the source of his discomfort as passively as possible. Not such an easy feat.
"Is it so inappropriate to care about the welfare of those who serve you? I do not believe you to be so cold sir, after all, you are conversing with me at present and I am a mere servant."
She spoke the words so plainly, in a such a conversational tone, that the Prince almost wondered whether she was playing some trick on him. As he gazed heavily into her eyes however, which began to show signs of regret of speaking so openly, the Prince knew Belle was indeed naïve, but in more ways than one.
She had no idea.
She had no concept of the effect she had on him, absolutely none. She didn't understand that for him, this was not normal. Nothing about this, about their interactions, was normal.
He did not speak to servants in this manner. He did not let them speak so openly about their thoughts, about how the castle ought to be run, least of all about his own ways of thinking.
As intelligent as the young woman was, the Prince saw in that moment as she continued to look at him blankly, that she was as much an innocent as those dear maidens she read about in her books.
The dangerous effect she had on those around her in not realizing her own beauty, how her alluring power was, to be crass, making him feel extremely uncomfortable in his nether regions.
Of these things, she had no idea at all.
It was either that or she had no interest in such things. Perhaps it was both.
No wonder she had been so terrified the first night they had met. He had been feeling such immediately volatile feelings that night, things that she not even begun to tap into. Judging by what he was witnessing now, the Prince guessed his judgement was right, if she really thought he merely saw her as a servant.
Suddenly he felt quite stupid.
Not knowing how to respond to such an earth-shattering statement, the Prince tried to take control of the conversation himself.
"He was condemned for it you know."
"What?" stammered Belle, as they began to walk again.
As the Prince continued, his voice was well-tamed and mannered as they went down the long winding footpath at a leisurely pace. The trees were beginning to part again and the sky above began to peak through the branches once more as they rounded towards the front of the castle, where the wooded area ended and disappeared into the well-architected grounds beyond.
"Emotion... my father said it was the one thing which held more destructive power than anything else."
Glancing towards Belle, the Prince noted the look of disbelief ridden on her face. "Because emotion you know… It is never to be expressed outwardly. It is a bleak sign of weakness in a ruler."
He smiled blandly at the young librarian after finishing his comment, who continued to look at him silently with that look of incredulity in her doe-like eyes. Beginning to feel a little uneasy about the unwitting way he had accidentally led the conversation, the Prince continued on in haste.
"That is why we have poetry. Poetry is the most private form of art in existence. There to be felt alone. To be read privately. It is as if the words were written for you and you alone. There is always something hidden about poetry, something almost forbidden about it. Which is why it is so attractive to so many."
Towards the end, the Prince began to feel he was speaking more to himself in retrospect, rather than towards Belle. Looking up abruptly, as if waking from some trance, he turned in embarrassment to see Belle peering slightly, a crooked smile on her face.
"What am I saying," stammered the Prince, feeling his throat start to constrict as Belle continued to stare at him. "Ignore me, I'm sprouting nonsense."
"It's not nonsense!" exclaimed Belle, sounding almost upset as she involuntarily grabbed hold of his arm, stopping them from going on just as they reached the end of the footpath and had stepped into the open air.
Realizing a second too late her own actions, Belle let go of the Prince's arm as if she had just touched burning metal and took a step away from him, looking down at the grass in mortification.
Turning his head, the Prince scrutinized Belle, narrowing his eyes as he noted that she had begun to tie her hands into a convoluted knot and was almost neurotically biting her lip.
'Is it so wrong sir, to care?'
The Prince smiled serenely as Belle continued to look miserably down at the ground.
"I apologize sir for acting out of turn. It was disrespectful and-"
"I have heard all I wish to hear," interrupted the Prince, causing Belle to look up at him but not in alarm but rather surprise. She had inevitably heard the lightness of his words.
"I'm sure you will hear pretty soon from those scum I call servants what happened in Paris. This may indeed be the last conversation we exchange together alone."
"Don't be silly sir."
She spoke so brazenly that the Prince could not help but snicker slightly while looking at the serious expression on her face.
"Besides, we have arrived," he said, gesturing towards the castle which stood just behind them, now in full view. "You ought to go in now, they will be wondering where you are."
Belle looked up at the huge structure as if she had only just noticed where they were. She had been so caught up in their conversation she had clearly not been paying attention when it came to where they were going. There was something enchanting about that to the Prince, and mysteriously, for him at least, it seemed to please him that she had been so sucked in by his strange ruminations.
"Sir, before I go, will you please consider it? About the woods and borders for the villages? It is as much for your benefit as theirs, I am convinced."
Reverting his gaze, the Prince felt the now familiar swell return as he tried to block out the pleading sound of her voice.
"Will you at least let that man go free?"
The Prince looked sharply at Belle and hardened his gaze, while she continued to look at him almost hopefully.
He taxed the villages because that's what his father did and that had always been the way of the aristocracy. As such, he had never thought to think in another way. How could she ask him to suddenly change years and years of tradition and hierarchy?
Letting her shoulders sag, Belle dejectedly lowered her gaze and smiled painfully as she turned away. It was as if he had wounded her merely by glancing at her dismissively.
About to go into the servant's quarters, the disappointed nymph walked slowly towards the hidden entrance to the servant's quarters, her hands gripping hold of her skirts tightly just as the Prince spoke once more, unable to stop himself.
Only as he caught up to her did he, wishing nothing more than to rid the heart-wrenching expression off her face, swiftly grab hold of Belle's arm and turn her around to face him.
Looking down at the spirited woman, he saw her eyes glittering slightly but perhaps it was just the trick of the light. It pained him to no end to see her thus and he punished himself inwardly, knowing that he was the cause for her anguish.
"I will consider your proposal, if only because I despise to see that look on your face any longer."
Blinking up at him, Belle stared at the Prince wordlessly as he lowered his hand down to her own, unable to resist at least trying to soothe her somehow, even as his conscience screamed for him to stop.
After his hand slid down her arm and went beyond the sleeve of her dress, the young man pressed the innermost part of Belle's palm softly with his thumb. Taking a moment to reflect, the Prince felt the heat of her hand before letting go of it slowly, sombrely staring at her before turning to return back into the woods.
As for the girl in question, she stood utterly still, her hand slightly outstretched as it began to tingle slightly, as if somehow the Prince had left something with her. Something that was never going to go away. She was barely aware of how quickly he had retreated, even less that later that day, he did indeed let the young guard go free and let him return to his post.