CHAPTER 13
BELLE woke to the frigid cold of her room, surprised at the darkness that engulfed her, and why the thick scent of death flooded her nostrils. She blearily lifted her head and tried to focus her gaze more than a few feet in front of herself.
A cold chill wafted down her spine as she thought that swore she thought she saw movement in the shadows in the furthermost corner of the chamber. "Hello? Who's there?" She whispered into the dark and was met with silence.
Belle blinked once, twice, three times, until her vision slowly but surely cleared. For a moment, she wondered what had happened, and then she remembered the creature.
The prince, she thought, the hairs on the backs of her neck standing upright as she gritted her teeth and waited, the moment she caught the unmistakable silhouette of his winding, twisting horns atop his head. He was here. Watching her….
"You!" she breathed, holding out her hands in front of her, feeling her fingertips curl into fists over the scratchy woolen blanket that covered her person, soaking up whatever ghosts no doubt haunted this unfamiliar room that smelled dank.
Though the moment she spoke the word, this silhouette of the monstrous shadow she thought had been watching her sleep, pointedly vanished. She blinked owlishly at the spot where she'd thought the Beast-Prince had stood in the doorway.
And saw nothing. Frustrated, she huffed in anger and momentarily turned her head away and tried not to shiver. Belle felt the ghosts of times past who had occupied this room before her circulate right through her heart and become even quieter whispers, hearing them. As she looked around, she recognized she wasn't in her own personal quarters.
Wherever this Beast had brought here was not a good place. The room she was in, for lack of a better word, was, well, roomy. Airy. Eerie. Frightening. She squinted her eyes through the darkness, again swearing to herself she could see the creature's burning blue eyes, glowing brighter than midnight torches, little more than pinpricks, staring at her through the darkness. She furrowed her brows into a frown and sat up, propping herself up on her elbow.
A breeze wafted through the otherwise sparse and desolate room, save for the bed, dresser, and a chair, and gripped Belle with its cold touch and she felt a tremor of cold fear travel down her spine as she clutched at herself, freezing.
Belle gritted her teeth and to her relief, saw a beautiful gown draped over the back of the chair shoved up against the wall, a deep royal velvet blue dress with gold braided embroidery at the neckline and on the sleeves that would surely keep her warm in winter if she were going to be staying with this Beast if it meant that it would save her papa's life.
The chill's fingers circled around her body, tenderly fondling every inch of the young brunette inventor and painter's daughter, causing Belle to pull her shoulders tighter as she huddled further into her shift for warmth and under the blanket.
The door to wherever she was had been left slightly ajar, allowing a glorious but faint amber hue to meander in like a narrow stream of light across the dark corridor that was unnerving her more and more the longer she stayed in this bed right now.
Belle drew in a sharp breath that pained her lungs as she swung her legs over the edge of the bed's mattress, letting out a hiss as her bare feet contacted the cold stones on the floor as she padded barefoot to the chair and hastily dressed, shrugging out of her shift and into the blue gown, smiling softly to herself as already, she felt warmer.
Spotting a hairbrush on the surface of a small wooden table shoved up rather precariously against the wall, she thought that efficient and raked the brush through her long tresses a few times before she was satisfied and set it back down. Belle wished she had a ribbon or a headscarf but as there were none about, loose and flowing would have to do.
Her curiosity getting the better of her to find out just where she was, and if the Beast-Prince…whatever he was, had brought her here, why. The one question she wanted an answer to more than anything else: Why?
Why had he saved her? Why did he look like a monster before? Why could he not see his servants? She had not seen Lumiere or Cogsworth yet, but she could only imagine what sort of objects those two poor kind gentlemen had been turned into. Belle's face fell, crestfallen. She almost didn't even want to think it. Earlier, when the Beast had entered into her room upon her almost concluding her conversation with Mrs. Potts, she could faintly recollect the Changeling Prince, Skin Changer that he was now, that he had not taken notice of the little teapot she had been holding carefully in her lap.
She poked her head around the corridor once she shot her reflection a satisfied little nod, seeing a scared young woman staring right back at her, forcing herself to breathe slowly in and out through her nose, trying to will herself to be strong. For him.
I promise you, Papa, she thought to herself, hoping in some way, that he could hear her words.
I promise…I will come home. This, she vowed. As she peered out into the corridor to the left and right, she did not recognize this part of the castle, though in the short day that she had remained in the prince's employment, it wasn't as though she had been granted the opportunity to explore the castle's grounds or the castle itself in her leisure.
Her mind was practically screaming at her not to move a muscle, but her body seemed to have other ideas in mind, no longer taking directions from her brain, which chimed a warning bell at the back of her mind, telling her not to leave the sanctity of whatever room she had woken to find herself in. The further she allowed her bare feet to lead her, the more she realized how foolish this was. Belle bit the wall of her cheek as she lifted up the long hem of her velvet gown, thinking that she ought to at least turn back and slip-on slippers, if not her boots. But it was already too late to turn back now. Her curiosity was overwhelming her. She was grateful at least that someone, she hoped Mrs. Potts, had left the dress out for her.
The velvet fabric was much warmer than the servants' garb she had been given and would keep her warm during the cold winter months ahead yet to come, as winter had just started its long and dreary season but a week ago.
Belle's nostrils flared and the further down the corridor she walked timidly, she tried to ignore the smell of sweat and wet dog fur and something else that she could not identify that clung to her body like a disease, refusing to leave her alone in peace.
She remembered that she had almost gotten herself lost in the Wolves' Woods. The closer she got towards a door at the end of the hallway behind which emanated that same strange amber light that had appeared through the crack in her own door, she remembered the sight of her savior. "The Beast-Prince," Belle muttered darkly under her breath, shuddering as her breath made a visible puff of cold air in front of her. Large, tall, broad-shouldered, incredibly furry. Cold, dead blue eyes, and a cruel smile. The image of the creature's frightening visage seared itself into her brain and burned itself into her retinas, permanently.
And yet… as hard as Belle tried, she could not manage to rustle up the disgust and horror she knew she should allow herself to feel at the prince's changed transformation, however, it had happened.
Maybe the entire family came from Skin Changers, a family of changelings, and that's why no one ever saw the reclusive Prince, she thought, her overactive imagination beginning to wonder.
She tried to remember how ugly the Beast looked, the terrible horrible brown fur that covered almost every inch of his body, the mangled horns that twisted and wound their way out of his head. Belle shivered and pulled a face of disgust. Could she really allow herself to suffer his company for the sake of her father, to be in the same room as it?
She told herself the monster was a beast, a dog, a wolf in human clothing, and she was every bit a lady, though she was technically a peasant, Belle still possessed her morals, as well as her dignity. Belle was above this beast, this creature, prince, or no prince, in every possible way, she tried to tell herself. But she thought of how she was above him.
And inexplicably, she had an image of him in his human form above her, in a completely new way.
She felt her cheeks turn hot and her stomach flutter painfully in knots. Perhaps it was because he had saved her life, for reasons she did not yet understand when she had been under the impression that he despised her for what she was.
And especially how she behaved towards him, which gave her pause in thinking why he'd done it.
Belle nervously chewed on her lips.
It saved you, her conscience offered helpfully, making her think and mull it over in her mind. But why did it save you?
She wracked her brain trying to remember any detail of the prince's face before he'd changed but trying to do so was like a ship straining to see a beacon of light in the distance that would guide it home in the darkness, and no image came to her.
Belle felt her bare feet take one step, then another, as she clutched a fistful of her gown in one hand to avoid tripping over the long train and hem. With each step, it led her closer and closer towards that mysterious light at the end of the corridor, like a moth would be led to a flame, its demise, only the moth did not know where it was going, and Belle did.
The dread seeped into the pit of her swooping stomach. To her death, surely. Every step Belle took was met with a discordant shriek from her conscience, which was begging her to turn right around and go back to her chambers.
But like she kept telling herself, too late for that. She pushed back her swirl of confusing thoughts to the back of her mind and ignored them for now. She moved as swiftly and quietly as she could. Her legs moved on their own accord.
She couldn't be sure, but she beheld the sinking feeling of dread in her gut as a sneaking suspicion that she was heading towards the prince's personal chambers.
She came to the closed door and swallowed hard, craning her neck up to look at just how tall it was.
Never, she thought, had there been a door more intimidating than this one, Belle was sure of that.
The creature was behind that door, the prince, she had to constantly remind herself, and he was sure to be in a right foul mood, the mental bit. She knocked on the door and swallowed a lump in her throat. It was late, as evident by the pitch-black outside the window at the end of the hall. She had no way of knowing if the thing would even be within and she found herself praying to God if He was even listening to her prayers that this thing that had saved her life was both within and away, yes.
She felt little beads of sweat break out over her forehead. Before her resolve and courage could fail her, she followed her first knock quickly with another one in relatively short succession. Fast, rapid knocks with her knuckles, urgent, insistent.
Belle was about to knock a third time on the heavy oak door in front of her when it swung open.
The monster stood before her, only his horns visible in the torchlight within his chambers. She looked over what little she could see of its face, her dark eyes widening as she arched her neck to see it. Her resolve nearly faltered, and she almost turned on her heels to run away from the beast, but Belle somehow managed to hold herself still, straight, and proud, though she felt anything but. If anything, she felt like a wounded dog coming back home to its master with its tail tucked between its legs, licking its wounded pride, of which she was one, she thought darkly to herself as she glanced down at her injured arm bound in its sling and flexed her fingers of her wounded hand, hissing in pain, before she returned her attention to the beast.
"Hello, again, pretty belle," the Beast-Prince-whatever-it-was growled in a raspy, reeding-sounding voice.
She fought the urge to crinkle her nose at how it reeked of wet dog smell, and she couldn't be sure about this next part, but she swore she smelled wine spirits on its breath as it talked.
He, he, he was a man before… this happened to him, she scolded herself. She blew out a deep breath and summoned enough strength on her throat to speak.
"May I come in, Highness?" she asked, ever mindful of feigned courtesies, though she was sure the creature heard the hate and contempt in her voice that she held for it now.
Surely, the Beast could sense the revolt she nursed for him. She swallowed hard and when she did, she grimaced in pain as the facial muscles on the side of her now-scarred cheek gave a spasm.
He frowned. "I am no Highness, pretty thing, not anymore," he grumbled, though he begrudgingly stepped to the side and allowed Belle to pass him.
She entered and felt her muscles tighten and her stomach clench in fear as she heard the door shut behind her as the creature closed it with its claws. A violent shudder clawed its way down her back as though her back was turned, she could feel the monster's piercing blue eyes burning a hole in her. Belle could not deny the obvious.
That there was an evil lurking in those eyes of his. She was sure of it. The room she now found herself in was dark, lit only by the fire on the far side of the large chamber. Other than that, the room was sparse, empty, impersonal, and cold. It seemed her master owned very little, at least in here, which surprised Belle.
When she turned on her bare heels and let the bunch of fabric she had been holding in her hands so as to avoid tripping over the hem of her gown to hide her feet from the Beast, she was surprised to find him staring at her. But there was no excitement in his eyes, no aggravation or arousal at her sudden appearance, no emotion of any discernible kind.
And that frightened her more than she cared to admit. It was a miracle that when she opened her mouth to speak, that she could even form the word. Though as she spoke, her voice was faint and barely above a whisper. Still, she asked the one question that she desperately wanted an answer to. The one she did not get to ask him earlier.
"Why?" It was all she could ask, though she thought the meaning behind her question was clear. Why did you save my life? Thing, oh, thing, get away from here and from me! You could have easily let me become a snack for that wolf back there.
The monster gave an indifferent shrug of his broad shoulders. "If I should have let you die, then I would have no means of breaking this curse, dear thing. I should have thought that was obvious…"
Belle took a deep breath and let out a little breath before pushing forward, hoping to get to the heart of the matter so she could return to the relative safety and warmth of her own room, away from him. His eyebrows rose at seeing her attitude shift.
He moved towards the window, his back to her for a moment. The Beast turned to look at her and tilted his head to the side, eyeing Belle curiously.
"Curse?" She frowned, furrowing her eyebrows. "What curse?" Belle wasn't buying his vague answer.
It was clearly intended to get a rise out of her, and Belle did not want to let on that it was working now. She had come here for other reasons, not to verbally spar with the master of this castle. Perhaps she could do this with the subtlety and class of the that she hoped to become someday, one day.
"Never mind what curse, if you cannot figure it out for yourself, girl, you aren't as smart as I was led to believe," it spat, sounding disgusted with Belle. The Beast narrowed its blue eyes at her, the edges of its lips curling upward. She tried not to flinch away in discomfort or fear at seeing it bear its sharpened incisors at her
The way he was looking at her looked as though he wanted to dig those fangs of his right into her neck for asking questions. She swallowed a lump in her throat and dug her fingernails into the skin of her clammy palms. She quirked a brow at the Beast and struggled to formulate an adequate response as to what was weighing on her mind, but finally, she forced herself to say it, though the words sounded bitter, causing bile to rise up in the back of her throat then.
"Thank you, for…for saving my life last night, monsieur," she whispered faintly, hating hearing the faltering warbling dip in her shy tone. As she looked up at the Beast out of the corner of her peripherals, she saw the monster give a visible start at hearing Belle choose to address it with even the slightest modicum of respect, though in her mind, it did not deserve it. Not after what the prince had ordered his guard to do. Cut out her tongue, and instead, the man had gone for her cheekbone.
And now, because of him, her face was ruined.
She blinked when she realized the creature had said something to her and that she had missed it. Blushing furiously and blinking owlishly at the Beast's turned back as it stood towering in front of the lit fireplace, she was forced to ask him to repeat himself, and she had a feeling this was not about to be a pleasant conversation. "I—I'm sorry?" she said.
"Sit." His gravelly voice came out almost as a harsh bark. Coming from this—this Changeling man, it was not a request, and she could only comply. Belle numbly nodded, her eyes darting to the left and right, looking for an escape, anything but to sit and converse with the monster responsible for upheaving and ruining her life.
Belle dipped her head in acknowledgment, taking a seat in the chair across from him, keeping her head bowed and her gaze averted from him, not wanting at all to look her betrothed in the eyes, knowing sooner or later that she would have to.
"Why did you save me?"
"I already told you about my reasons behind my actions yesterday," he spat, crossing one leg over the other and pouring himself a goblet of wine, not caring for the uncomfortable glances he was shooting her, though it seemed to take him great difficulty as his paws trembled. "What more reason could I possibly provide?" The Beast growled, no semblance of warmth in his voice.
Belle swallowed past the lump in her throat at the Beast's words.
Yesterday. That meant she had slept for an entire evening.
"How do you find it? The…castle…Your…new home. I take it your chambers, and everything is suited to your liking, Belle. I should want my hearth keep to be comfortable..." The Beast's voice trailed off and he smiled at her, though it came across as more of a grimace than a genuine smile, a gesture that sent a tremor of fear down Belle's spine.
"What?" exclaimed Belle sourly, who had been about to take a sip of wine, promptly lowered her goblet and set it down on the side table next to her armchair and was well aware of her forlorn and worn expression.
She was, for the moment, unable to form a polite response as the pretentious voice got the better of her. "I—I don't know what you mean, milord," she mumbled sheepishly, reaching up a slightly trembling hand to brush her long plaited braid over her shoulders where it belonged.
"The castle, Belle," replied The Beast sarcastically, rolling his eyes, just as the early red of the sunrise, which had been streaming through the windows, caught the gleam of his raven black hair and it shone. "Do not even think of lying to me, little dove. Do. Not. Do not make me say it a second time..."
The coldness in his tone was unmistakable.
"It is…beautiful, Your Highness," she replied, unfazed, glancing around the unfamiliar room.
"So, then you admit that there is still a part of you that finds something joyous about this place? Here with us. With me," The Beast taunted, smug.
Belle blinked owlishly at the man; her mouth slightly agape in shock.
Registering the dumbfounded expression on the girl's beautiful features, The Beast reacted by smirking in an almost intimate manner, as if he were enjoying some private joke with himself. He lifted the rim of his cup to his lips and drank heavily, all the while never once taking his glance off Belle, carefully studying her facial expressions over the rim of his goblet, scrutinizing her reactions. The Beast's lack of response irked Belle, and she began to feel a little nervous.
She was beginning to suspect that he had meant for her to find her here, but what on earth did he want? Was he just toying with her, to coax more feelings of guilt to the forefront of her mind, to make her feel grateful that he had saved her from that wolf in the Wolves' Woods? Noting his continued silence as he poured himself a fresh goblet of wine and drinking, Belle began to feel agitated. If The Beast wanted something of her, why did he not just come outright and demand it?
Was he still pursuing her, was that it?
Though Belle had thought she'd made her feelings towards her future husband quite clear and plain to him.
"Is there something my master wishes of me, Your Highness?" asked Belle, lifting her chin slightly to meet his gaze, unable to play along with the insufferable monster's antics any longer. "Why am I here alone with you?"
The harsh bark of The Beast's voice rendered her frozen, rooted to her chair, and unable to move, though she wanted nothing more than to bolt for the door at his response.
"Because I wish for you to be here. It…pleases me to look at you, Belle, and like it or not, little dove, you are perhaps my best hope at breaking this insufferable witch's curse…" He curled his hands into claws and raked them over the fabric of his armchair and bared his teeth. So that was what he wanted of her, then. Belle bit her bottom lip in a slight pout, feeling the all-too-familiar spark of hot anger welling like a fire-seed planted by a dragon in the pit of her stomach, as it had whenever she was around men who displeased her, and now, this man who had once been, was now a Beast.
A literal monster that she was trapped with.
"In your mind, you've succumbed to me, and now, here you are…no second thoughts. It was your decision to come here, was it not?" he breathed, and Belle could hear the hitch in the Beast's cold tone.
Letting out a concentrated but slightly shaking breath, Belle lifted her chin and leveled her gaze as she did her best not to quirk her brows in a sarcastic manner, which would not help her in this situation right now.
The Beast must have appeared to enjoy this since he smirked. "What you did the other night, Belle, was…inexcusable, yet, here we are…." His nonchalant gaze now turned towards Belle as he set his cup down and with surprising speed like a panther that had eyed and stalked its prey, he bolted from his chair and crossed the room and leaned down slightly, closing off the gap of space between them. He was leaning in close enough for her to kiss him if she was of a mind to try such a thing. "Why is it that you think…that I have not killed you yet?" he growled, his icy blue gaze turning intense as he stared deep into Belle's blue eyes.
She felt like she was being questioned and yet at the same time, Belle was aware that this Beast, for reasons unknown to her, actually seemed to be listening to her. Strange.
She was led to believe of him that his only interest in women was to seduce them and bed them. He remembered. Belle did not know how she felt about him remembering her words in the corridor. Still, she answered as steadily as she could.
"You need me. You've said it yourself, sir." There was a pause before the Beast continued. The intensity in his eyes seemed to soften, and it was replaced by something unreadable, something vague which Belle could not discern, and she hated it.
"Why?" he breathed, and Belle gulped as his blue eyes widened. "What is to stop me from disposing of you once you've…fulfilled your purpose?" The Beast growled, and Belle flinched but did not dare avert her gaze from her betrothed, not even when he lifted a claw and caressed her cheek, almost tenderly brushing back a lock of hair away from her shoulder. "Hmm?" he crooned, still continuing that infuriating behavior of trailing the pads of his fingers along her collarbones, which sent a surprising tingle of heat throughout her body, warming her.
"Milord, please don't, I…" She hissed as the pads of his fingers came to cup her chin.
He was mocking her. "Tell me, pretty belle." His tone was curt and hard.
Belle swallowed nervously. "Because like it or not, Your Highness, I am your key to regaining your humanity if I've understood you correctly. And should you wish to maintain your hold on this little shard of humanity, if not for yourself, then for your servants? You need me alive, a young woman who is more than capable of looking at you, and a woman who might remove some of the…stain on your name."
A muscle in The Beast's jaw twitched, and he looked…rather curious.
"You have such a low opinion of yourself, Belle?" he asked.
"No." Her voice came out sharper than she would have liked, a tone of impatience lacing into her normally kind and shy tone. Why was he asking her all of these questions, or for that matter, speaking to her at all? He should just take what he wanted of her right now. Perhaps there was a part of Belle that had foolishly believed that after the other night, he would simply kill her and be done with her.
She almost—almost—would have preferred that. Anything but this. Now, something about her future lord husband's presence was putting her on edge.
"You feel as though I am treating you unfairly here, don't you?" The Beast spat, leaning down even further. Belle shirked back into her own armchair as far as she could, until her back pressed against the edge of the chair, and the tip of the Beast's slender nose touched hers. "Don't you?" he repeated, his tone going dangerously soft and quiet.
Belle would have preferred it if he would have shouted. "Not by the other members of staff, Your Highness. But you, Beast—"
The Beast growled, curling his claws into fists over Belle's wrists, effectively pinning her to the chair. She was completely at his whims.
"Well, my darling, let me tell you a useful truth so that you do not set yourself up for disappointment. Life is pain, pretty Belle. You want more, I can tell that much, but life is unfair. It's people who are the monsters."
Belle blinked as the Beast's mouth twisted into a sneer. His tone was bitter, though his speech cut like a dagger plunged straight in her heart. He did not sound as though he enjoyed spewing such a venomous stream of dark thoughts to her.
Belle frowned as he looked away, down towards her lips. Feeling a surge of panic course through her veins, Belle began to speak rapidly in response, her eyes cast downward at her boots.
"I…I cannot offer you an appropriate response, Your Highness, because our conversation has strayed too far. I—I am willing…to…try to do whatever it is that is required to help you break this curse if it means that I will be free, that I may see my father again," she stammered, her tongue feeling thick in her mouth as she herself could hardly believe the words that were coming out of her own mouth.
The Beast sneered, baring his canines. His smile was wolfish, predatory. He leaned in further and Belle was surprised when his lips pressed against hers.
"You've no idea what it is that you are saying," the creature growled in a hoarse tone. "There it is again. That look. You called of me the other night a beast. A monster. If that is what you think of me, then so be it," he growled. "Oh, my darling…You are mistaken if you should think that you have any hope of freedom here. You're mine, Belle." His powerful hands relinquished their grip on her wrists and landed on her waist, and his strong fingers came to grip painfully tight on her wrist. "You still must be punished for your actions the other night, little dove," The Beast growled, and his lips clamped down hard on hers, hard enough that she could taste the welling of blood on her bottom lip.
"What…?" Belle let her mouth drop open in shock as The Beast straightened his posture, as she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.
"You'll see. I think you're going to be quite happy as my hearth keep, pretty little belle," grinned the Beast, flashing her that disarmingly charming white smile that did nothing to mask the anger that lingered in his blue eyes. "You aren't going anywhere that I don't want you to, Belle. You are mine to do with as I please. I think I like you, so I'll keep you. Just…close your eyes and pretend you're back in your pathetic village," The Beast said and threw back his head and laughed, and it was…evil.
Belle was well and truly trapped here in this place. Her heart sank as she watched The Beast stride out of the room, hearing the locking of the deadbolt behind her, and Belle knew he would not have been careless enough to leave a pin or anything with which she could pick the lock. Belle heard his pounding footsteps slowly disappear down the corridor, and she turned back to see that the door was closed, locked.
Making a beeline straight for the door, she tried to force it to open, her bare hands pushing against the rough surface of the door, which was cracked and weathered with age.
It was all in vain. The door stood stubbornly in its place. There was not even a viable window in this room, save for the one over by the fireplace's hearth, and if she broke that, the Beast would hear, and then she would be dead, as the man would sic his hounds on her to rip out her throat. A shudder ran through Belle.
Trapped. "I'm trapped," she whispered to no one in particular. She was well and truly confined within the walls of this very room.
Suddenly, she felt claustrophobic. A metallic smell hung and lingered in the air, almost rendering it suffocating and it became difficult to breathe.
It reminded her somewhat of the smell of dried blood, and for a moment, Belle found herself wondering if she was the first person this monster had brought to this place, where his prisoners lived, or if she was the first.
The room was pitch dark, and she had no choice but to huddle back into the same corner, wrap her arms around her knees, and pray that someone—anyone—would find her before it was too late for her.
She was going to die here if she could not think of a way to save herself.