Chapter 6 - A Broken Promise

A year seemed to fly by. Or was it two years? Beast couldn't say for certain. He wasn't very good at keeping track of time in his current mental state. Time flowed like a river and he was just drifting along with the current, unsure of where he was going or how long he had been floating on the surface of the water.

Every day felt the same. They all seemed to blend into one, and he could hardly tell them apart. If you asked him what he did the week before, he probably wouldn't be able to tell you.

Instead of keeping track of the number of days, weeks, months, and years that had passed, instead, he would just keep a watchful eye on the enchanted rose.

In the span of one, or perhaps two years, only four petals had fallen from the rose. He was thankful for that, as the petals falling off slowly meant that he had enough time to fix this mess. He just wished he knew how to fix it.

Even still, watching the petals fall wasn't a joyous sight, whether they were coming off regularly or not. Waiting and wondering when the next one would fall was agonising.

He remembered seeing the first petal fall rather vividly. He had stood by the pedestal and watched hopelessly with baited breath as the red petal peeled away and gently floated down, landing at the base of the stalk, becoming crumpled and dull. It was like watching sand slowly drain from an hourglass.

That day, it became apparent to him how much his life was ruled by that stupid flower. The rose dictated how long he had left before the spell became permanent, and he was powerless to do anything about it.

It was a painful existence.

During that amount of time, let's just say a year and a half, to be safe, he had taken it upon himself to seek out and find the Enchantress. But the trail she left behind ran cold.

There was no way of finding her. He tried asking the enchanted mirror to show her to him, but no image was displayed. He even tried to use the enchanted book, another gift of her's that he swore he wouldn't use, but that turned up with no results either.

It would have been too easy to find her using the enchanted objects she had bestowed upon him anyway. She would have to be foolish to allow him to follow her. There weren't many other ways to look for her either, he couldn't exactly go outside and search. Where would he even start? Finding her was impossible, plain and simple.

But he was allowed to dream that they would cross paths again someday. He had two scenarios that played out in his head. The first scenario would be that he pinned her up against a wall using his paws and sharp claws and make her change him back, or forfeit her life. That was quite an empty threat, but who said she needed to be alive for the curse to be broken?

The other scenario, which he didn't favour as much, was that he went down on his hands and knees and begged her to change him back.

Needless to say, the first scenario was much more favourable, although it was unlikely.

Aside from fantasising about ending the curse prematurely, Beast had made more of an effort to interact with the servants.

He didn't dwell in his room all day. He did indeed spend most of his time up there, but he ventured out for meals and went into other parts of the castle.

He spoke with some of the servants occasionally, although conversations had been running dry as of late. There just wasn't much to talk about, no topic of interest.

Whenever he did speak with them, they normally talked about the weather. It was always the same, it just snowed, day in and day out. The only difference was that sometimes it was overcast, and other times it was still cloudy but some sunlight managed to break through. This almost constant state of darkness made it hard to tell when it was day and night.

Oddly enough, despite the fact that it was always snowing, the amount on the ground never seemed to deepen. Yes it would settle, but there only ever seemed to be a thin layer covering the gardens, and his balcony. He assumed it had something to do with it being magic.

The only other thing they spoke about was the condition of the castle. Ever since petals started to fall off the rose, cracks were forming in the walls and pieces of stone were starting to crumble away. He had seen it too, most noticeably when leaving his room, whenever he walked downstairs he always saw cracks in the walls of the West Wing, and those cracks were getting wider.

The deterioration of the castle was most likely another part of the curse. Whenever a petal fell, a tremor could be felt throughout the castle, shaking it down at its very foundations.

He still lost his temper with the servants, and had gone into fits of rage more times that he could count. But he hadn't gotten as angry as he had that fateful day, when he nearly smashed Mrs Potts. That was the first and last time he had ever apologised for his actions. If he apologised for every time he got angry... Well, let's just say he'd never be able to stop saying sorry.

He just couldn't help it, his patience was wearing thin, and his temperament was just getting worse, causing him to get angry over the simplest of things. He wanted to remain calm, but he could never contain his outbursts. It was too hard to keep his anger buried, due to being constantly frustrated about still being trapped as a beast.

Despite coming out of his room, there were still areas of the castle where he did not go. Instead, he avoided them like the plague.

The ballroom for starters was something he didn't want to lay eyes on again. That room was where it all started, where the transformation had taken place. He didn't want to set foot in there, fearing that he might end up reliving the traumatic experience.

His throne had vanished from the ballroom without a trace. Perhaps the Enchantress had erased it, just like she had erased himself and everyone from the memory of the townspeople. So he was told, anyway, by the servants, as there were some details he missed out on after the transformation was complete. But why remove the throne? To cover up the fact that he was a prince maybe?

He knew that Maestro Cadenza, who was now a piano, had made his home in that room, and frankly he was welcome to it. The servants had asked him if he wanted them to clean it up a bit, but he had refused. What would be the point? He wasn't going to use it. He doubted that he would be any good at dancing when he had massive paws for feet. Plus he didn't feel much like dancing anyway, as he didn't have anyone to dance with. If he were to dance alone, he'd have to be on the mood for it, and he wasn't in much of a mood to do anything.

It saddened him that he couldn't do the one thing he had enjoyed doing throughout his life.

And so, the ballroom was falling into a state of disrepair. But it hardly mattered anymore.

Another room he didn't dare to venture into was the library. He had gone in there once, to store the enchanted book on a far shelf, where he could forget about its existence. At the time, he had also picked out a book to read. Reading had always given him the opportunity to escape to a fictional world, and that's exactly what he planned to do. He'd rather be anywhere else other than trapped in the castle.

Unfortunately, that plan of his didn't work out too well. He ended up ripping one of the pages with his claws whilst he was turning it. It was frustrating, knowing that something else that he had once enjoyed doing was ruined by his own body.

Before the transformation, he had read all the time. He could never put a book down until it was finished, and managed to get through so many in such a short span of time. But now, he couldn't even start reading one.

Perhaps he could have tried harder, dedicated more time to reading that book by taking extreme care as he turned the pages. But he didn't have the patience for that. Why should he spend so much time and effort on something that should be so simple and easy?

He gave up on trying to read anything because he didn't trust himself.

Although there were areas of the castle he never went into, there was one room that he hadn't been into in years, a room that he had kept away from not by choice. Recently, he was strangely drawn to it, the room his father had sealed off.

And that room was... His old nursery.

Beast wasn't exactly sure why he wanted to go in there. Truth be told, he had been wanting to go in there for a while, but had only decided to commit to the act that day.

Ever since the transformation, he had been thinking about his mother and his childhood. His mother hadn't crossed his mind when he was a prince, as he had suppressed all of his memories of her, by pushing them to the back of his mind and locking them away. But now that he had time to think, those memories had started to come creeping back into his head, and he began to wonder why he had ever tried to bury them in the first place.

It had occurred to him how little his mother had touched his life. She had only been there for ten years, and he couldn't even remember a fraction of that time they had spent together, as his early childhood was lost to the passage of time. But despite that, it was surprising how much of a lasting impact she had left upon him. It just went to show how strong their connection had once been.

The nursery had also doubled up as a playroom. He and his mother had been in there many times together, played with his toys, played games like Princes and Princesses, the list was endless.

If he had to pin down his reason, he would have to say that he wanted to go in there because he felt like he'd be closer to her in that room. He wanted to reconnect with his past, his childhood, that seemed like another life. He wanted to reconnect with the memory of his mother.

He had gotten it into his head that the only way to do that was to go into his old nursery. Because when he tried to picture the room clearly, his mind drew a blank. He had to see it again, to look upon the gateway that could link him back to his childhood.

He had to see it.

The only problem was that the door was locked, and he didn't have a key.

He ran his fingers along the chipped, blue painted wooden door. It was fragile, and a little rotten, he could easily break it down if he wanted to, as he had the strength to do so. But he wasn't that desperate to get in, nor did he want to break down the door.

So he went looking for a key instead. He decided to ask Mrs Potts if she knew where to find one. She was also the easiest of the servants to find, as she was normally in the kitchen.

"Mrs Potts." He addressed her as he walked in.

"Master! Sorry for the wait, lunch will be ready shortly." She responded, a hint of nervousness to her voice.

He furrowed his brow "What? No, this isn't about lunch." He replied.

"It's not?" She questioned.

He had gotten angry about the food not being prepared on time on numerous occasions. Most animals can get rather touchy when it comes to food, so he chalked that one up to being a beast.

"No!" He exclaimed. He then sighed "I wanted to ask you if you know where I can find a set of keys?"

"Keys? What do you want keys for?" She asked.

"That's none of your business." He growled.

"Well, if you're looking for a specific key, I can't be much help if I don't know what room you want it for."

He grunted "Fine. Do you know where I can find the key to my old nursery?" He asked begrudgingly.

"Your old nursery? Hm... I think your father kept a key for that room in his study." She replied.

"Is that so? Well... I'll go check then." He responded, turning and taking his leave.

"You're welcome." He heard Mrs Potts mutter as he left.

He often forgot to use his manners, as he hadn't said 'please' or 'thank you' in a while. 'You don't need to use manners with the servants, they'll get the job done no matter what you say to them if they want to get paid.' His father used to say.

He was just glad she didn't press any further about why he wanted to go into the nursery. He didn't want to explain himself to her, nor did he have to.

His father's study had gone untouched. Even in his absence, Beast hadn't dared to move a single thing, let alone remove everything and make it into something of his own. The study was where you would often find his father, it was his domain. You could almost feel his lingering essence in that room.

The study walls were covered with book shelves, and in the centre sat a large, oak desk. Behind it was a window, but the crimson curtains were closed, allowing only a small trail of natural light to shine in. On the smooth stone floor lay a rug, made from the skin of a wolf. He stared at the wolf's gaping, razor sharp teeth filled mouth and lifeless eyes, frozen in a moment of anguish.

He wondered if his father had been the one to kill it. He highly doubted it.

He couldn't imagine what would happen to himself if he ever ran into a hunter. Perhaps they would make him into a rug, or stuff him, or hang his head on a wall. He shuddered and brushed that thought away.

He stepped over the wolf rug's head and walked over to the desk, moving aside his father's big, red lined chair.

He paused for a second, and looked over at a section of wall that wasn't cover in shelves, but instead, a huge, full length portrait of his father, looming over him. Beast could feel those dark eyes pierce his soul.

How vain did you have to be to have a portrait like that, hanging on a wall so close to you? What did his father even do with it, sit and admire himself?

Wait... He had a portrait just like that in his own room, except now it had claw marks through it, making the shreds of the canvas hang loosely from the frame. He had almost forgotten about that portrait... Forgotten that he was just as vain as his father.

He shook his head and turned away, opening up the drawers until he came across a single key. He didn't know for certain if it was the key he was looking for, but... He just had a feeling it was.

He closed the drawer and drew closer to his father's portrait, the light shining through the crack in the curtains touching his face "Why did you lock that room up?" He whispered softly "Did you really want to remove every trace of my mother that was left? Deny me of her memory?"

The portrait was silent. He hadn't expected an answer. He never would have dared to question his real father. "I was just a boy." He murmured, his voice becoming even quieter and wavering off.

He turned away and left the room, shutting the door behind him.

His heart was thundering in his chest as he hurried through the castle to the nursery room. He stopped dead in his tracks once he reached it. His arm trembled as he slotted the key into the keyhole.

It fit.

He turned the key and heard the satisfying click as it unlocked. He nudged the door, and it slowly creaked open, revealing the nursery to him.

It was like taking a trip back into the past. He bowed his head to avoid scrapping his horns on the top of the door frame as he stepped inside.

There was a thick layer of dust and cobwebs that covered just about everything in the room. The closest thing to him was a wood craved rocking horse.

He smiled and nudged it with his finger, and watched as it rocked gently back and forth.

There was a large rug that covered most of the floor, which was a welcoming change to that of the stone floor. The soft carpet felt good against his pads. However, the carpet was also littered with discarded toys, so he would have to watch his step as he trod through the maze of tiny objects.

Beast walked further into the nursery, drawing close to a cot, lined with neatly tucked in blankets.

His mother must have placed him in that cot many times when he was a baby, sung him a lullaby. She had sung him to sleep almost every night, even in his later childhood.

He continued to explore the room, examining the walls, and the crude child drawings that covered the lowest areas of the walls. One drawing sort of looked like a dog. His younger self must have been trying to draw Wilfred.

His foot knocked something that was lying on the floor. He glanced down and noticed that the object he had nearly stood on was a book. He knelt down and scooped it up, brushing off the thick layer of dust that covered it.

He gasped when he caught sight of the cover. It was his old fairy tale book. He hadn't laid eyes on it in years.

When he was younger, he had imagined himself turning out like one of the princes in the fairy tales. But instead, he had turned out like one of the monsters.

He wanted to open the book and reminisce, but feared he might damage it. So instead, he placed it inside the cot for safe keeping.

And that's when he saw it. His mother's music box.

He rushed over to it and picked it up. The music box had a rather simple design, it was box shaped, with the sun painted on it in gold.

The music box always played the tune for his mother's lullaby. He wasn't sure what came first, the music box, or the lullaby. He liked to think that his mother had gotten it made for him, so that if she wasn't there to sing him to sleep, he could listen to the music box instead.

What was it called, that song she used to sing? He couldn't really recall. It was another one of his memories that he had pushed to the back of his mind.

... Days in the Sun, that was it. Or at least, that's what he thought it was, it seemed to ring a bell.

Now what were the lyrics? He tried to remember but his mind drew a blank.

He ran his fingers along the music box. Perhaps if he played it, the tune would jog his memory.

Beast took hold of the handle and began to turn it. He turned it around three times before releasing it and waiting for the tune to play.

But nothing happened.

The handle tried to turn back, but it stiffened and locked into place. He could hear the cogs and springs inside attempting to turn, making a whirring sound, but the inner mechanisms seemed to be stuck.

It was broken.

He grimaced. He didn't know the first thing about fixing a music box. He wasn't going to try, as everything inside was rather delicate, and he would never be able to handle it with such care.

Disappointed, he placed the music box back down.

Why couldn't he remember the lullaby? He had heard it so many times, it should have come back to him effortlessly.

He closed his eyes and could almost hear his mother's voice. It was faint, but it was there.

He slowly began to remember the last few lyrics.

"Not until my own life is done, could I ever leave you..."

Beast opened his eyelids and stared at the music box. He didn't want to think about that memory anymore, or recall on that song. It had seemed so heart warming and soothing back then, but now it took on a whole different meaning. It hurt him. His eyes were starting to sting.

He glanced around at the desolate room that had been long forgotten. The remnants of his childhood that had been lost.

It was all gone. Just like her. She was gone.

He lowered his head sadly "But you did leave, mother..." He whispered softly, his voice cracking.

A/N - Fun fact: In the early stages of this story's development, I assumed that 'Days in the Sun' was a lullaby that Beast's mother used to sing to him long before the original version of that song was released. (I've been planning this for a while now hehehe) For that reason alone, I decided to base the lyrics on the ones his mother sings in the deleted scenes.

It's the first time jump, one of many! I'm being intentionally vague about the amount of time that has passed, because Beast doesn't know for certain, he really is starting to lose touch with reality.

That's all I really have to say for this one, so I'll see you in the next!