Chapter 11 - Kings and Queens
It was a dark, starless night, with clouds that released an endless amount of snowflakes, which swirled and danced in the cold, winter wind.
Beast had taken to sitting outside on the castle walkways, where he could take in the fresh air. It was good, to be outside, while still having a sense of security, as he didn't have to stray far from his prison. He meant home, but calling it his prison seemed to suit it much better.
Out in the open, everything was calm and quiet. No servants to bother him, no rose to watch over, just him and the elements. The cold didn't bother him, as he had a thick layer of fur to keep him warm. At least that was one positive he could find about his current situation in a sea of negatives. It almost made him thankful that it was always winter, as he couldn't imagine what it would be like to have to endure the heat of summer under such a mass of fur.
He also had the gargoyles to keep him company, so he wasn't truly alone. The statues used to look like angles, but now they shared a striking resemblance to him. It was uncanny in fact. The Enchantress truly had a twisted sense of humour.
After looking at one of the gargoyles for a while, he had come to realise that his horns looked more like a ram's than that of a goat's or antelope's that he had previously thought. After so many years, his body was still a mystery to him. He'd probably never fully understand it.
He had been on the castle rooftops quite a few times, and had discovered from trail and error that he could jump a fairly long distance. He hadn't tested the boundaries of his jumping ability, as he was worried he might miss a jump and end up seriously hurting himself, but he had gotten the hang of it, and it was something to keep in mind for future use. Not that he saw himself needing it, but you never know.
He wasn't too interested in testing the capabilities of his body, nor did he want to push himself too hard. He was content with sitting with the gargoyles and taking in the night air.
On nights like this, it became apparent to him just how isolated he had become. Not only had he isolated himself from the world, but he was isolating himself from the servants too. At least one of them was by choice.
He was being forced to remain here, as going beyond the safety of the castle was a death sentence. He could choose to leave if he wanted to test his luck, but he wouldn't want to try to live out there. But he didn't have to push the servants away, not when they were trying so hard to keep everyone together.
He just needed space. He always told himself that.
Besides, he wasn't the life of the party, or a joy to be around. It was better if he stayed away and kept to himself.
He had been isolated before, so the feeling wasn't exactly new to him. However, back then, he had no choice.
He was starting to think about his father again. He was also starting to get sick of this. What could he possibly hope to gain from it?
Thinking about his mother had helped somewhat, kept him sane, but thinking about his father made him feel worse. Not to mention the awful experience that made being in isolation feel so normal was all down to him.
But it was time for him to think about it, so that he could finally move on. At least, that's what he hoped he could do. He wanted to contain these painful memories in a little box and put them to one side, so that he wouldn't have to think about then again. That was the end game.
There were several points in his life when he saw his father for who he truly was. The first time was when everything he had ever known was starting to become unraveled.
That was when his mother died, and his whole world came crumbling down around him.
His mother lay in the sickbed, her skin ghostly white, and her blonde hair messy and unkept, clinging to her sweat covered face. Her chest rose and fell, and every intake of breath caused her to shake, and something within her to rattle.
The young prince, only ten years of age, sat beside her in a chair he had pulled over. He had a book in his hands and was currently reading it to her. Her eyes were closed, but he could tell she was listening.
"They had a year of joy, twelve months of the strange heaven which the salmon know on beds of river shingle, under the gin-clear water. For twenty-four years they were guilty, but this first year was the only one which seemed like happiness. Looking back on it, when they were old, they did not remember that in this year it had ever rained or frozen. The four seasons were coloured like the edge of a rose petal for them." He read aloud the passage about Guinevere and Lancelot. He saw traces of a smile on her face.
The door creaked open and his father poked his head in "Adam, can I borrow you for a second?" He asked.
"But I'm reading to mother." He protested.
"I have something I need to discuss with you. It won't take long." The King told him.
The Prince glanced at his mother, and then back at his father. "Alright, I'm coming." He sighed, standing up and placing the book on the chair. "I'll be back in a bit, mother." He addressed her, patting her hand gently. He then turned and followed his father out of the room, giving her another glance before the door was shut behind him.
"You shouldn't touch her, you know," His father warned "She might be infectious."
"Sorry, father. I can't help it. It feels wrong not to touch her."
"Well, I don't want to see you doing it again. I don't want you to catch whatever she has."
"The doctors still haven't figured it out?" The Prince asked.
"I'm afraid not. But I've been meaning to talk to you about a similar subject."
"What is it?" He questioned.
"How would you like to go away for a few days to my hunting lodge?" His father asked him, placing his hands on both of the young Prince's shoulders.
"Hunting lodge?" The Prince repeated, unsure of what his father was talking about.
"It's a huge estate I had built on the outskirts of Paris. I go hunting there occasionally." He told him.
"But what about mother?" He asked concernedly.
"The doctors need some space to work on her treatment, so it would be best if you and I were out of the way while she recovers. And you deserve a break away from here after being by her bedside ever since she got sick. You've had a lot of sleepless nights, you need some time to yourself."
"I'd rather stay here and make sure she gets better." The young Prince protested.
"That might harm her recovery, the doctors won't be able to work properly if you're hovering over her." His father responded.
"I won't hover over her. I'll keep out of their way, I promise." He replied "I just want to stay here."
His father gripped his shoulders tightly, the tips of his fingers digging into his flesh. It hurt. "I wasn't giving you a choice. We're going, and that's final."
"You're hurting me." The Prince whimpered.
His father released him and the Prince began rubbing one of his shoulders, nursing it.
"I'll tell one of the servants to pack your trunk. We leave in the morning." His father stated.
"The morning?!" The Prince cried in alarm.
"The sooner we leave, the sooner your mother can recover." His father responded "Don't you want her to get better?" He questioned, tilting his head slightly.
"Of course I do!"
"Well, then give your mother the space she needs and focus on enjoying yourself for a change."
The young Prince lowered his head "Yes, father." He murmured quietly in defeat.
"Good boy." He said, patting him on the shoulder, the one that he hadn't been nursing "Your mother will be fine. After all, whenever she sung you that lullaby, she promised that she would never leave you. I'm sure she'll keep to her word."
His father turned and walked away, leaving his son alone in the corridor, unsure of what to do with himself.
The young Prince woke up early the next day to say goodbye to his mother before he left with his father.
She was still lying in the sickbed, unmoving, just breathing in and out. "Hello, mother." He greeted.
She was silent.
"Father and I are going to stay at the hunting lodge for a few days while the doctors help you get better." He told her "But don't worry, we won't be gone very long. You won't even notice I'm away!"
Her eyelids twitched slightly.
"Well, I better get ready to go. I'll see you soon, mother."
He turned to leave, but she suddenly reached up and grabbed his hand, startling him a little. "Mother, you're awake!" He exclaimed happily.
"Don't... Go..." She said, her voice hushed and strained.
"I can't stay, father won't let me." He replied. "But I'll be back soon, you'll see." He reassured her. "After all, you promised to be here with me, and I'm going to be here with you."
"Then... sing for me... won't you?"
She requested.
"What do you want me to sing?" He asked.
"Our song... please... I want to hear you sing it..."
The Prince stared at her pleading eyes and took hold of her hand, and squeezed it gently. He then began to sing "Days in the sun, where my life has barely begun..."
His mother rolled her head back and closed her eyes, allowing his soft, sweet voice to carry her away into slumber. "Not until my whole life is done, will I ever leave you..."
The door opened and his father entered. "Come on, Adam, we're going."
The young Prince didn't move, instead he continued to clutch his mother's hand. "Come on, Adam." His father insisted, placing his hands on his shoulders and pulling him away from her. Her hand slipped from his grasp, but he continued to watch her, she never left his sight until he was ushered out of the door.
Beast got to his feet. He decided to have a walk around, to stray away from the balcony for a bit. He needed to pace.
Out of everything he had remembered during the time he had spent as a beast, it hurt to think about his mother and her death the most.
That was the last time he ever saw her. And worst of all, he had been none the wiser.
If only he had known. If he had, he would have kicked up more of a fuss, fought, screamed, cried, done whatever it took to make his father stay, so that he could spend those final moments of his mother's life with her.
He thought that by the time he came back from the hunting lodge, she would be better, that everything would return to how it was. He was certainly a naive child.
And that's what made it more heart breaking, the fact that he thought he would see her again but never did.
Sometimes he wondered if his father knew that her time was almost up, and he wanted to take his younger self away, so that he wouldn't have to suffer through seeing his mother slowly dying. Sometimes he wondered if there was any treatment that was going to happen, or if that was just lies too.
Maybe he had been trying to protect him, he would never know for certain. He would have rather been there for her, in the time she needed him most.
But that wasn't the end of it. It was only the start of what had to be the worst experience he had ever gone through.
Being trapped as a beast came close, but he still thought that everything afterwards, including what he was going through now, was just a repercussion of her death. Even now, he was still feeling the effects. It was likely to stick with him forever.
A few days, his father said. It had been a week, and they were still staying at the hunting lodge.
The young Prince was starting to become very restless. He wanted more than anything to go home, to see his mother again.
He had thought about asking his father if they could go back to the castle on several occasions, but was afraid he might shut him down. But after staying longer than they had originally agreed, he had plucked up enough courage to ask.
His father was in the main living area, leaning against the empty fireplace, a piece of paper in hand and a glass of alcohol in the other. The young Prince didn't know what type it was as he didn't actually know it was alcohol at the time.
His father didn't notice his son standing in the doorway at first, he was staring at the far edge of the room, most likely looking out of the window, and the acres of forest that stretched out as far as the eye could see.
He finished off his drink and placed the glass on the mantelpiece, and then glanced down at the piece of paper he hand clenched in his hand and sighed deeply.
The young Prince stepped into the room and cleared his throat, alerting his father of his presence.
"Oh, hello Adam." His father greeted, folding the piece of paper and tucking it into his pocket. "It's a lovely sunny day outside, wouldn't you say?" He asked, walking over to the window.
The young Prince watched him silently as he continued "I was thinking that you and I could take a trip to Paris. Just for the day. I could take you to see Norte Dame and a few other landmarks. You've wanted to go and see them for a while now, haven't you?"
"Yes, but-" the young Prince began.
"Well, it would be a shame to waste such an opportunity when we're so close to Paris." His father interrupted.
"But I wanted to go with mother too." The young Prince piped up.
His father turned his back to him and continued to stare out the window, his hands behind his back "Well, your mother is not here right now, so I'm afraid it will just have to be you and me." He responded "We can go with her next time."
"But-" the Prince tried to object once more.
"Why don't you go and put on your best outfit, and I'll tell the coach driver to get ready?" His father suggested, interrupting him again.
"I don't want to go to Paris!" The young Prince blurted out. "I want to go home!"
His father turned his head slightly, to look at him over his shoulder. He could just barely see one side of his face, as the room was dimly lit. He didn't understand why he didn't turn around. Was he trying to hide something? "You can't." He replied simply.
"Why not?!" The young Prince questioned.
"Because I say so." His father replied. Another simple answer. What was he trying to avoid?
"I want to go home! You can't keep me here forever!" He shouted in frustration.
His father was silent, and turned away once more, his back facing him.
"Please... I just want to go home... I just want to see mother..." He pleaded. He was on the brink of tears. He was frustrated, angry, and confused. He didn't know why his father was keeping him here, and feared that he might be keeping him from him. He didn't understand any of it! The only thing he knew was how much he wanted to leave this place!
His father suddenly spun around, startling the young boy. "Your mother isn't here anymore! She's dead!" He shouted. His chest was heaving, it was clear that he had been holding back for some time. "She died..." He whispered, taking on a softer tone after his out burst.
He lowered his head, a look of possible regret written on his face.
The young Prince stared at him in disbelief "No, that's not true. Tell me that's not true!" He cried, stuck in a state of denial.
His father was quiet, unable to look at him. Was he even listening?
"Father! Tell me it's not true!"
And then, his father looked him dead in the eye. The young Prince saw every single movement of his mouth as he breathed the words "It's true."
Tears started to well up in the young Prince's eyes "No... You- you said she'd get better!" He cried. "You lied to me!"
"I thought she'd be able to recover, after all those promises she made to you, I thought she'd be able to stay strong and get through it for your sake!" His father snapped, his temper running high "If anything, she's the one who lied!"
"She wouldn't do that!"
"But she did! She said she'd never leave you, but she has! She left us both!" He retorted.
"We left her too!" The young prince exclaimed.
"We didn't know she was going to die! I just wanted to give you a few days away from all the madness back home!"
Home. Home was where his mother was. Her dead, lifeless body. He couldn't bear to picture.
"I want to go home, I need to see her!"
"No, Adam. I can't let you see her like that. I won't." His father refused.
"Please, you have to let me see her!" The young prince begged.
"No. We will remain here, until the body is... Taken care of." His father told him.
The young prince lowered his head as he choked up a sob. He gritted his teeth as tears threatened to fall. "How long have you known?" He asked, although he was barely able to speak.
His father didn't answer.
Could it be the piece of paper he had been holding earlier was a message about his mother's death? At the time, the young prince couldn't have known when exactly his mother died. She could have died seconds after he left the room, or she could have died a mere day ago.
How long had his father been holding back on telling him?
"I'm sorry, Adam." His father apologised weakly.
The young prince put his hands to his mouth as he began to sob loudly. Tears streamed down his face as he cried. He slowly approached his father, shaking and weeping, before he made contact with him, and pressed his face into his chest.
His father was stiff, stoic and unmoving. After a few seconds, the young Prince felt his father wrap his arms around him, embracing his distraught son in a hug.
A trip that was only supposed to last for a few days turned into a trip that lasted for six months.
The hunting lodge was more of a large estate. It wasn't as nearly as big as the castle, nor did it ever feel like home. The young Prince felt trapped there, alone and unloved.
The hunting lodge didn't need as many staff as the castle did. They had a cook, and a dozen or so cleaners and regular servants. But he didn't know any of them, not as well as the ones back home. He wanted more than anything to be able to talk to Mrs Potts, Luimere, Cogsworth and so many others. They were like family, and he needed them, after the death of his mother, and the fact that he was still recovering from the lost.
The young Prince hadn't fully accepted it, that she was gone. It was just so hard to believe, that he would never see her again. Some days it was hard to stop himself from crying.
The only person he could really talk to was his father, but he didn't like to talk about his mother. He said it was best for both of them if they didn't bring it up, since the subject was so traumatic. But avoiding it just made him feel worse.
Sometimes his father would get angry, when he did try to mention her. He would shout, yell, even scream in the young boy's face. The King would ask him if he hated him, for bringing him to the hunting lodge, when he had been trying to do him a favour. And then he would pass the blame onto his mother, said that she had being lying to him all his life, that she left him, that she shouldn't have been filling his head with promises that she couldn't keep. He believed that it wasn't his fault, that all of these problems were to be solely blamed on his mother.
She couldn't help getting sick, she couldn't stop herself from dying if her time in this world had come to an end. But his father didn't want him to think like that.
Other times his father would just shut him down if the young prince dared to try to speak of her, or going home, or anything along those lines.
Eventually, they did end up going home. But on the carriage ride back to the castle, his father had a few rules in place for him.
"Now, Adam..." He began. "When we get there, I don't want you talking to any of the servants about your mother. Or anything for that matter, beside trivial things. They are beneath you, I don't want you indulging them in any of their mindless drabble."
"Yes, father." The young Prince replied submissively.
"I've also arranged a couple of new tutors for you." He stated.
His mother had been teaching him almost everything he needed to know.
"You'll have a separate tutor for each subject, they'll be teaching you English, mathematics, science and so much more. And of course, as a prince, you deserve the best of the best, and these teachers are probably the best in their field of work. They're also very expensive too, so I want you to treat them with the upmost respect. So pay attention, answer whatever questions they have for you, and I'm sure you'll do splendidly."
"Yes, father." The young prince repeated, staring blankly out of the carriage window.
"Meanwhile, I'll be teaching you about all of your royal duties. I don't trust anyone to teach you how to be a Prince, and one day a King, but me."
"I'm sure I'll learn all I need to from you, father." He responded, his voice dry and lacking any emotion.
"Indeed you will." His father agreed. "If you follow everything I teach you, then you'll be a great king someday."
When they returned to castle, the servants greeted him in a trivial manner, as they were expected to. They bowed and then went on to their business.
The young Prince immediately went to the sick room, where his mother had been, before his father could stop him. When he arrived, he found the bed empty, and the sheets and pillows neatly made up.
The book he had been reading to his mother was still on the chair, although the chair had been moved to the far end of the room. He has forgotten to take it with him, as everything had been so rushed when he left.
He picked up the book, and opened it, noticing that the page he had been on had the corner folded, so he wouldn't lose his place. He had been quite far into it, but there were so many pages left.
He hadn't been able to finish it for her.
A tear landed on the page, and he quickly shut the book and pulled it close to his chest. He then slumped down in the chair and stared solemnly at the empty bed. He finally and fully realised that she was gone. And she was never coming back.
Beast had walked up one of the stairways in one of the castle towers. He was currently sitting on one of the many stairs, staring out of the window, at the snow, that was now falling thick and fast. There were snowflakes caught in his fur, but he didn't mind all that much. They would melt eventually.
He rested his head against the cold, stone wall and sighed, his breath visible. He watched the tiny cloud of air rise before vanishing.
He had blamed himself for his mother's death for a very long time. He had thought that he had done something wrong, that he was being punished for something. He had believed that by not being there for her in her final days, she hadn't been able to hold on to life. She had just... Let go.
Maybe there was nothing he could have done to save her. What could he really have done, besides hold her hand and remain at her bedside? It was doubtful that would have magically cured her.
After a while, he stopped blaming himself and he had come to resent his mother, for leaving him. That was his father's doing, filling his head about how that lullaby she had sung to him every night was a lie, that she had given up on him, and let death take her away.
There was one point in his life where Beast had hated her.
What kind of person does that to a child, make them think of their dead mother in such a way?
His father, that's who.
He truly was a cruel, awful man.
But... there was one side of his father he had never seen before, and didn't ever see again.
The twenty two year old Prince was sitting in his father's study. Things like Angelica and his horse, Jean, were a distant memory, and at that very moment, he was very focused on winning a game of chess against his father.
The King was playing the black pieces, while the Prince was playing with the white pieces. He had claimed all of his father's pawns, as well as one of his knights and bishops. He was trying to back him into a corner using his own remaining pieces, as he father had managed to claim half of his pawns and one of his rooks. The old man kept moving his King, which made it rather frustrating.
His father was drunk at the time. He had downed four glasses of whiskey and was currently on his fifth. Surprisingly, he was still able to play chess really well, although some of his moves were questionable and a little bit idiotic.
The Prince moved his his knight to avoid it being claimed by his father's rook.
His father sat quietly and took a swig of whiskey before moving his King again.
The Prince began to wonder why he was even bothering to play defensive when his father clearly wasn't paying attention. So, he moved one of his pawns up the board.
His father glanced over at the portrait of himself hanging on the wall and then glanced back at the Prince. "You know, Adam, we should get someone to do a portrait of you. We could hang it up in your room." He suggested. He was slurring a little, and the Prince could practically taste the alcohol on his breath from the other side of the desk.
He looked over at his father's portrait. "I don't think a portrait of that sized would fit on my wall." He responded.
His father sat back in his chair and stretched out his arm to move his bishop and took one of the Prince's pawns. Perhaps he was paying attention after all.
"We could get the artist to just paint a picture of your face then. It's a work of art on it's own." He complimented him.
His son smiled "Thank you."
"Thanking me is exactly what you should be doing. You do have my face after all."
He was actually complimenting himself in a backwards sort of way.
"Most children do inherit something from their parents." The Prince agreed, moving one of his pawns again.
His father picked up his Queen. It was the first time he had touched her in this entire game. He paused for a moment, and stared at the chess piece and then at the Prince.
"You did always have your mother's hair... And her eyes." He murmured.
The Prince didn't know what to say. It was odd for his father to bring her up. They sometimes did it in passing, like at the garden party many moons ago, but they never talked about her like this... He almost sounded sentimental.
"When your hair is long, the resemblance is rather... Striking." His father continued. "Why did you cut it?" He asked.
The Prince lifted his hand and touched his blonde hair, that only reached down to his chin "You told me to." He responded.
"Oh, that's right... I did tell you to do that, didn't I?" He muttered.
He really was drunk.
He put the Queen back down on the chess board and moved her diagonally.
"You know, sometimes... I find it hard to look at you, your eyes they just... They remind me so much of her." He admitted, gulping some of the whiskey. "You're the one ever lasting reminder of her I couldn't get rid of."
The Prince still didn't know what to say. He was completely baffled that his father was actually sharing his feelings with him. He never opened up to anyone. Was he always like this when he was drunk?
He just moved his own Queen forward.
His father stared at the chess board for a moment "Do you miss her, Adam?" He asked, meeting his gaze.
Any other time, he would have said no, as his father would be displeased. But as he was drunk, and clearly had no idea what he was saying, he felt safe in admitting the truth. "Yes, I do." He replied honestly.
His father moved his King. "I do too." He admitted "I know you might find it hard to believe, but despite everything... I did love her."
"You had a funny way of showing it." The Prince retorted. He felt confident in what he was saying, but there was a small concern scratching at the back of his mind that his father could possibly turn violent in his drunken state. He'd have to tread carefully.
"What do you mean by that?" His father asked.
He was drunk and clueless?
The Prince moved his bishop and claimed his father's own bishop. "You hit her. I saw you." He responded.
"She pushed me. She was trying to turn you against me, I couldn't allow her to do that." His father argued.
He moved his Queen and claimed another of the Prince's pawns.
"She was trying to be a good mother." He argued back, taking his own Queen and claiming his father's last knight.
"She wasn't perfect, Adam. I know you may think she was, but she wasn't. She was unstable, after we got married. She found herself in a situation where there was so much pressure placed upon her and she just couldn't take it. She was a fragile soul, and it wasn't long before she had a breakdown. Now I could have given up on her, I could have sent her off to a mental asylum. But I didn't, I fought for her, I got her through it, and we came out stronger together." His father told him.
"She never seemed unstable." The Prince replied.
His father moved his rook closer to his own King. "She hid it well, especially in front of you. She wasn't as bad as she was after you were born." He explained. He then paused for a moment "We tried for so long for a baby, which didn't help her mental state very much. But she wanted one so badly, and so did I, so we kept pushing and pushing. We began to lose hope, there was just miscarriage after miscarriage... We began to think we'd never have a baby, but then... You came into our lives. You were the light of her life. You were her cure." He stated, and a smile appeared on his face. "I had never seen her so happy, when she held you in her arms."
The Prince moved his Queen forward. "Why didn't you tell me she was unstable?" He asked. "Why did you treat her so badly when she wasn't in a good state of mind?"
"You didn't need to know." He responded. "She was an unruly woman, whether she was in a good state of mind or not. I couldn't allow her to speak to me in such a way, so I made sure that she didn't overstep her bounds."
"You didn't have to hit her." The Prince said.
His father stared for a moment, and moved his King. "No, maybe I didn't." He admitted. "I suppose I resented her, in a way, for not being the woman I wanted to marry, but instead the one I was forced to. I resented her because... You always seemed to love her more, while I... Meant nothing to you."
The Prince moved his Queen again and claimed his father's Queen. He picked up the black chess piece and ran his thumb across it. "That's not true. We were just... Distant, that's all."
"We both wanted what was best for you. I still do, everything I've ever done... It was always for you, for her and the benefit of this kingdom."
That wasn't strictly true. There had been times where he hadn't put his family first. But his father seemed to believe it... Perhaps he had convinced himself.
"Despite everything I put her though, and what she put me through, we did love each other... In some mixed up, backwards sort of way... We were just incompatible, we were no good for each other and yet... We stuck together. But I have no idea how, and I still don't."
His father finished off his whiskey and slammed the glass down on the desk, nearly shattering it. He then looked at the chess board "Oh, it seems you've beaten me." He commented, shifting the topic entirely.
The Prince glanced at the chess board. He was right, he had reached checkmate. "So I have." He murmured. He had been so engrossed in their conversation he hadn't noticed.
"And it also seems I'm out of liquor." His father commented, rising from his chair. "I'm going to go ask one of the servants to fetch me some more." He declared, hobbling around the table. "And then we'll have another game."
"Yeah, I'm up for another one." The Prince agreed.
His father paused beside him and placed his hand on his son's shoulder "Do you want me to ask the servants to get you anything?"
"No thank you." He replied, turning away and staring blankly at a single spot on the table, avoiding his father's gaze.
His father lingered for a moment. "I do love you, Adam. You know that, right?" He asked. He sounded broken.
"I know." The Prince replied.
His father leaned down and kissed him on the head, before turning and leaving.
The Prince sat in stunned silence. He couldn't remember the last time his father had kissed him. It was likely that he would never do that again.
He glanced at his father's portrait, at the man that stood tall and proud, positively oozing with confidence. And then he compared it to that of the man he had just seen leave the room. They seemed so different, like they were two completely different people. "Sometimes... I feel like I don't know you at all." He told it.
They never spoke of that day again. Beast had assumed his father didn't remember it happening, and he didn't dare to bring it up.
He remembered his father's portrait, and realised that it was still lying propped against the desk, completely ripped to shreds.
He didn't blame him so much anymore about his current situation. He didn't blame himself much either, after his breakdown. He wasn't really sure who to blame.
He wondered if his father, the man he had known his whole life, had all just been a lie. A mask that he had adopted to hide his true self. The only time that mask was ever allowed to slip... Was when he was drunk.
Or maybe everything he had said that night was a lie too. Maybe it was all a sob story, so that he would feel sorry for him, and not hate him for everything he had done.
There was no way of ever knowing what was real and what was not with his father.
He had adopted a mask too, to hide his true self. The mask he had was similar to his father, the way he acted, what he believed in... But that wasn't the real him... Was it? Maybe Beast had been wearing it for too long that he had forgotten who he truly was.
Maybe his father did want what was best for him. After all, he had helped him arrange the dance party, with all the maidens that had been invited. It had been in the works for such a long time.
But his father had gone away on a trip several months before it. Whenever it seemed like he was returning, a message would arrive stating that he was staying away longer.
Two nights before the party, a private message arrived, with news about his father.
He... He had died.
He had gotten sick during his trip, and had succumbed to his illness before he could make the journey home.
Back then, Beast had decided that his coronation and funeral could wait. He would pick a wife first, and then they could have a wedding and coronation all in one.
But it hadn't worked out as he had planned... He wasn't married, he wasn't a King... He wasn't even a Prince.
He was just a beast.
He hadn't told any of the servants about his father's death. He had almost forgotten about it himself... But he would have to tell them eventually. He was surprised none of them had asked. Perhaps they had assumed he didn't know.
He wondered what had become of his body. Beast no longer existed in the minds of the people, but his mother and father must have... Right?
The curse seemed to get even more complicated the more he thought about it.
Although, something about his father's death bugged him.
For the longest time, it had almost seemed like he had known his time was coming to an end. He had wanted Beast to get married, he wanted to see him settled down, so that he was secure and safe. He hadn't known why they needed to rush.
But now he felt like he knew.
There were two scenarios that played out in his head. The first was that, as the message had said, he had fallen ill, just like his mother, and died.
The second scenario was very different, and was based upon what he had seen in that study, that quiet night, playing chess with that drunk, old man. It was based upon the version of his father that was emotional, broken and grief stricken over the loss of his wife. That his emotions had been building up for years and he had no one to confined in, no one to support him, because he was the King, he had to stay strong. He had no way of escaping them.
Except through death.
It was possible that his father hadn't been sick at all, that the message was fabricated, to make his father look like a better man. That he had climbed onto the edge of the ship on the crossing back home... And jumped into the ocean and allowed the waves to carry him away.
Beast would never know for sure.
Sometimes... He hated his father. Sometimes he had found himself wishing he had died instead of his mother.
But other times, he would never wish death upon him. He would have wanted both of them to be alive.
Other times, he found himself loving him... In some mixed up, backwards sort of way.
He was conflicted. He would never fully be able to determine how he felt about him... Nor would he ever be able to determine what had been real about him, and what hadn't.
But now, he could move on. He had thought about his mother, and thought about his father. There were things he had skipped over, times where his father had shouted at him, called him pathetic, a failure, a sorry excuse for a prince and a son... But he would rather leave those in the past.
Now, he felt better, or at least somewhat. He had finally dealt with his past. He just wasn't sure what he would do with himself now... What else would he think about?
He'd figure it out eventually.
Beast walked down the steps and out onto the walkway to head back to the balcony, just as the clouds began to part, and he could finally see the bright, twinkling stars.
He wondered if they were up there somewhere, looking down at him.
He just hoped that, whether they were now, together or not, they were at least peaceful in death.
A/N - What his father is truly like has been left ambiguous, as he was rather ambiguous in the movie too. You can interpret him in many different ways, judging him on his actions, his ideals, and how he treated his wife and son.
This is the last chapter to include a flashback, as Beast has dealt with the memories of his past, and is trying to move on.
Just to add, I'm not avid player of chess, I did some research into it, but I wrote the movement of the chess pieces more to aid the narrative, than to be a realistic chess game.
I'm currently writing chapter 22, so next week I think I'll post the next chapter, and then post another one half way through the week, as I'm pretty far ahead now when it comes to stock piling. Expect a chapter to appear next Sunday, and on the following Wednesday. I might continue to post like that, we'll see. I'm not sure if I've stated this before, but there will be around 32/33 chapters all together. I'm nearing the end of the writing process, so all that will be left is to post it. So look forward to that.