Marcus stood in the doorway of his home, breathing deeply. It had been almost a year since he had been home, almost a year since he had seen these glades full of life, seen his people, checked on Aurora. Philip wanted to be there, even if he could not travel all the way into the forbidden wood when Marcus told her, so for today that task must wait, but there were many things that needed to be done. Before anything, he wanted to address this curse.

He had felt it under his skin this entire journey, but when he had entered his lands it had thrummed more violently to life, and King Marcus wanted to be rid of. His butler met him, no doubt with news of his kingdom, but for now Marcus waved him off. The older man seemed to understand, and with a bow, he left Marcus alone.

With heavy tread Marcus climbed the stairs towards the West Wing. It was an unused section of palace that had once been his mother's favorite place. But it had been dark and dusty for years.

He entered the hall and memories floated like the dust in the air. He and Philip had run these halls, whooping and hollering, far loud enough to wake the sleeping Aurora and they had gotten reprimanded too many times. "Be quiet or you'll wake Aurora!"

He remembered the terms of the girl's curse and laughed humorlessly, the day may come when they may need desperately to wake her and not be able to.

He passed through the hall and entered the chamber at the end. It had been his mother's chamber, and he knew it would be the least likely to be disturbed. He had let go all but the most necessary of servants since it was just him in this palace, and none would come here. He saw the arm chair in the corner with the wool throw still draped over it, covered in dust. A few toys were scattered on the floor.

The window to the west stood open, vines had climbed along its frame. His mother had sung them here with magic, and nymphs and sprites had brought flowers as offering among them. He crossed to it, heavy with flower, and absentmindedly plucked a single rose. It was long but vibrant with sharp thorns down its stem. It may have been an odd choice, but Marcus thought it fitting.

He found a glass pitcher left on a table, and carefully lay the rose inside. He began the spell quietly, letting the spell flow from him into the rose.

It was done in a moment, and the rose stood pristine inside the picture. Marcus rubbed his chest, and took in a deep breath, feeling his chest expand unrestricted. Then with a final glance around the room, Marcus went to find the butler.

His was a quiet kingdom, and as the butler filled him in on what had happened in his absence, there was not much for concern. One thing was of interest.

"There are some servant debts, should I collect?"

"From?" Marcus asked, surprised.

"Refusal to serve," The butler sniffed, obviously disdained by the idea, and Marcus's brow furrowed. He had lost many men on that battle front. He well understood why a man may not want to go, but they entered his service voluntarily, refusal was not something he abided.

"Yes, collect immediately."


Maurice sat at his table, brooding into his mug. A knock on the door jerked him just as he began to doze. With a mumbled curse he stalked to the door.

A king's guard stood there, and an uneasy feeling curled in his stomach, making him want to lose his drink.

"What do you want?"

"We're here to collect the servant's ransom." The man spoke coldly, and Maurice straightened at the disdain in his eye.

"Now look there's been a misunderstanding. I, see, I lost the paper." Maurice scrambled.

"We have another," the guard quipped, reaching into his belt, "Just sign here and we will collect, effective immediately."

Maurice paled. "Well, it's not lost per se, it's just, uh-" giving up Maurice turned to get the paper that was shoved into the corner of the writing desk. It was wrinkled and dirty and he tried to smooth it out as he handed it over.

The guard glanced to see that it was signed, then raised a curious eye to him.

"Who is Belle?"

"My, my daughter, you see uh, she felt guilty, see, when I didn't go to war, for her, you see, I stayed to take care of her and when they brought the contract well, she uh, took it and signed it."

The guard eyed him with raised brow, but Maurice could not tell at all what the man was thinking.

"Isn't there anything you could do?' Maurice asked hopefully, but was secretly relieved when the guard shook his head.

"No, the contract is signed. Where is your daughter?"

Belle looked up at the sound of her name from where she toiled in the garden.

'Yes, father?" she asked, stopping when she saw the guard beside him. "Is something the matter?" she asked, rising to her feet.

"Good day, miss," the guard nodded her way, "You are Belle O'Malley?"

"I am" she answered, wiping her hands on her apron.

"I need you to come with me."

Belle looked alarmed at her father.

"It's alright, Belle. Remember that paper you signed, they're here about that."

It took Belle a moment to remember, "Oh," that's right, she thought, the survey, she had forgotten all about it. "Yes, I'll be right there."

She went quickly inside, laying aside her gardening tools. She grabbed her cloak but took nothing else, she did not imagine this would take long. She stopped to say goodbye to her father, then followed the guard out the door.

She wondered if he would take her to the palace, to be counted with the other young women. She could not imagine what it would be like inside. She hummed a little tune as she walked, not understanding the concerned looks the guard sent her way.


Someone knocked on his study door, and Marcus looked up, but didn't answer. He was mid-thought and knew whoever was there would come back if they heard no answer. Unless it was important. A knock sounded again, and Marcus sighed.

His butler stuck his head in, "Sorry to interrupt, my lord, but we have a slight situation."

Curious, Marcus stood and followed his butler out, "What is it?"

"Well there's a problem with one of the new servants. It's better you just see for yourself.

They walked the long hall down to the servant's step into the entrance before the kitchen. Here the butler stopped. "The new servants are waiting inside."

Marcus stepped into the candle-lit hall. He nodded to Betty, the cook, before turning to face the men. He reminded himself that he did not know their reasons for refusing to serve and it was possible that they had good excuses. Each man's gaze dropped in shame as he looked over them. There were four of them, yet when he got to the last in line, Marcus stopped.

A girl stood there, dress covered in dirt. She was looking about curiously.

"Andrew," Marcus spoke quietly to his butler.

"Yes, my lord?"

"Did we recruit women this year?"

"Uh, no my lord."

"Then why am I looking at one now?"

"Well you see, sir, she signed the contract."

Marcus eyed him speculatively before approaching the girl.

"Excuse me, Miss..."

"Oh, Belle," she colored prettily, "My name is Belle."

"Miss Belle," he bowed his head in greeting, "Do you know why you are here?"

"For the survey" she answered readily, but there was the edge of question in her voice as she had obviously begun suspecting all was not as it seemed.

"And who told you this?"

"My father, Maurice O'Malley." The man before her eyed her and nervous, Belle kept speaking, "Guards came to our home some time ago with the paper we were meant to sign. They've only just returned for it, and brought me here."

"And did you read this paper before you signed?"

She colored slightly, "I can't read, sir."

Marcus nodded. He encouraged education in his kingdom, but more than one family chose not to bother, especially poorer farmers.

"And your father, he can't read either?"

Her eyes flashed a little, and her chin raised, "Yes my father can read. He reads quite well… I just, never learned."

"He read the paper," Marcus repeated, and she nodded, looking confused. "Then asked you to sign?"

"Yes, what is going on?" she looked around, "Where are the other ladies?" When she looked back at the man before her she was taken back at the look of anger in his eye.

Instead of answering, he looked towards the three other men standing in the kitchen with her, "You are dismissed. See the grounds keeper and he will assign you duties. We'll work out your sentencing later."

Belle watched them all bow and go, and a thought suddenly struck her. She had taken the man before her as a guard, but suddenly she began to wonder if she had been very mistaken.

"Come with me," he spoke it curtly, and Belle quickly fell into step behind. She passed out of the kitchen into a hall that lead to the main part of the castle, and her head turned on a swivel as she attempted to see everything while keeping up with the quick strides of the man in front of her. They reached a small door at the end of the hall and the man pulled it open, motioning her inside.

It was a small study with a large fireplace taking up much of one wall. The stones laid about it were carved with many images and Belle was drawn forward to study them.

"Miss."

The voice behind her startled her, and she turned back, blushing, "Forgive me, sir..." she let it hang as he had done to her and she watched him smile barely.

"My name is Marcus."

"Marcus..." she repeated it, then her eyes widened, "You are lord Marcus Adams, king of-" he waved a hand, cutting her off.

"Yes."

"My, my apologizes, sir, I did not realize!" she dropped an awkward curtsy, a scarlet blush filling her cheeks.

He studied her a long moment. "How old are you?"

"Nineteen, sir, my lord." she answered hastily.

"And you are unmarried?"

She blushed though he had meant no offense, "No, sir. I, I mean yes, I am unmarried."

"Have you family other than your father?"

Mutely, she shook her head. He sighed, and Belle shifted nervously.

"Forgive me, my lord. But I would like very much to know what is going on."

"You are not here for a survey, you are here to pay a servant's ransom."

She gaped at him, "But how? I don't understand! ...Sir" she stuttered after a moment.

"The paper you signed," Marcus explained slowly, "Was a contract, an agreement that in refusal to serve in the war, you would serve until you had filled your debt. It was meant for your father, it would seem he tricked you into signing."

The girl was shaking her head. Marcus rummaged through a stack of papers on his desk, before standing and bringing it to her.

"Look, here," he showed her the bottom line where Belle recognized her carefully signed name. Normally she was so proud to see it, she could do that at least.

"This says 'In failure to serve your kingdom in your assigned role you will owe a servant's ransom equal to what you owe. Failure to do so is a life of servitude.' Your father willing joined my army then refused to fight. He owes a service equal to that, just as those other men you saw down in the kitchens. They will be sentenced to work here until their debt is paid."

Belle was staring at him, her thoughts trapped behind frightened eyes. She had known her father had joined the king's men, looking for an extra coin, but he had told her he had never been called up. She had heard of others going to fight, but father had said it was all voluntary. Now she stood before their king and she certainly couldn't argue with him.

But it couldn't be true.

At her silence, his voice turned a touch gentle. "Were this a normal contract I would void it instantly, but as it stands this was formed as a magic covenant. There is nothing I can do. I am sorry."

"How long?" she asked after a moment, it was a rough whisper and she cleared her throat. "How long is the sentence?" she tried again, stronger this time.

Marcus's arms settled over his chest, "For service to war the sentence is usually one year for every month they should have served."

She swallowed. "And how many months were you fighting?"

"Ten."

The word settled like frozen stone in her stomach. Ten years.

"I am sorry, Miss Belle, this should not have happened to you."

"What will happen to my father?"

"Prison." Marcus's answer was quick and immediate, and her eyes flared wide,

"Oh, no, please do not send him there. His health has never been strong. It would kill him."

King Marcus regarded her silently before nodding, "We can discuss it later. For now, I will have Andrew show you to your room. Rest tonight. We will talk again tomorrow."

An hour later Belle lay in her bed. Andrew had shown her to the servant's quarters. Her room was larger than back home, but colder, and she missed the flowers that lined her sill at home. When they realized she had packed nothing Andrew had given her some clothes borrowed from the other servants. He was a kind man, older than her own father, who seemed easily exasperated almost because it amused him to be so. He had quietly outlined the rules of her position here. She would be assigned to her work tomorrow, the king would decide what it would be, but to fail in her tasks was to invoke a life of servitude. She was to be well behaved and to never leave the grounds overnight. Doing so would break the contract.

He spoke solemnly, but gently, and after he had left, Belle laid on her bed and cried.