A/N: I've decided not to wait for people to review, I just read the last chapter and wanna continue now, while I'm feeling creative. I haven't decided whether or not I'm going to have a Beast p.o.v chapter, maybe the next one. Even if I do have one, there won't be many. Just a little warning to those aching to hear from Beast. Still, I want you guys' input, so don't hesitate to review w/ advice on the p.o.v matter. Thanks as always for the quick review Chien, it's nice to hear from you again ^^. By the way, I've decided to screw the dividers, they weren't working. This is better anyway, dontcha think? Here we go.



I woke up feeling only a little less shell-shocked than I had last night. I could tell from the spot of light that came through the well windows of the servants' quarters that it was well past when I usually woke. I got up, dazed, finding myself still in my dingy gray dress and apron. Ugh, I must have really been out of it! That's never happened before, not even when Mom died. A few more unanswerable questions drifted around my fuzzy mind. I wondered if maybe I'd dreamt it all, the moonlit library, the book, the master, I mean Beast. I guess I'd have to wait until night fell. I really hoped I hadn't dreamt it, I'd feel awfully dumb sitting in the library, waiting for some dream to emerge from the darkness and teach me to read. Well, the solid mind-voice said, of course, IT was wide-awake, time to work. No more daydreaming about him, you've got a garden to create. Oh yeah, the garden! I hurriedly changed into my other dress, still using the old apron, and dashed up the stairs, through the halls, and into the kitchen to grab something to eat before the yard work commenced. Svetlana was wiping down the table in the kitchen that we had breakfast at every morning.

"You are late," she said.

"Yeah, Svetlana, I'm sorry about that. I didn't get to sleep until late," that wasn't a bald faced lie, I'll have you know, "Is there anything left to eat?" She tossed me an over-ripe, round fruit of some kind.

"That's all. Don't sleep in, you eat more." She hefted an impressive pile of pots onto her hip and bustled into the closet where we kept the biggest pots, those that couldn't be hung up.

"Okay, thanks," I said, eyeing the fruit for brown spots. I wasn't disappointed. Oh well, better than nothing, I thought, down the hatch. I chomped into it and, with a mouthful of over-sweet pulp said, "If Crawford asks, I'm in the courtyard making a paradise outta a wasteland."



I found Ivan already working, bless his stony little heart.

"Morning, Sunshine!" I said cheerfully. I was feeling better by the minute, excited about the project, as well as the possibility of the ending my illiteracy.

"What?" Ivan replied. He had already (A/N: Wow, that's weird. A fog just rolled in. No joke, just this completely random fog, right outside the window.) created a few good-sized piles of weeds and dead plants around the courtyard. The courtyard itself was really a garden with stone pathways winding through it. Every so often there would be sitting places with small tables, or benches with statues. The statues themselves could be found in no place in particular. You could come across an elaborate bust of a beautiful woman right in the middle of one of the gardens, ivy draping over her face like a veil.

"So, any particular plans come to pass while I was sleeping?" Ivan paused in the middle of his deliberations with a small dead tree.

"Well, I decided we can just leave the weeds we pick in piles next to the garden we find them in. Then, well, I suppose a compost heap is the best thing to do, as far as disposal goes. We let the weeds rot in their own box," he clarified for me, "that way, we get fresh soil for the other plants."

"I know that Ivan. I should tell you that Dad was a farmer before a servant, so I know my way around a compost heap." He looked at me, a little embarrassed.

"I didn't know that."

"I know, Ivan. So, all this sounds good. Where do you want me to start?"

"That corner," he pointed to a spot in the farthest corner of the courtyard where the weeds were still thick.

"Gotcha," I replied, taking a trowel and beginning work. Ivan continued his battle with the dead sapling, "So," I said, desperate to save this from becoming a kitchen-like chore, "How's that sick pig you mentioned yesterday?"

"Fine, she had a cold, but it wasn't serious." Ugh, God! How was I going to catch his interest? I had no more bright ideas for a while, and, although I did work many a weed out of the tired soil, I wanted conversation, like with Crawford in the library. I wanted to create a library-like space in the courtyard, but maybe that was an impossible dream. That gave me another conversation idea.

"I can't wait to get the flowers for the gardens. It's been so long since Dad and I were in the village." I glanced over at Ivan, we had moved closer and closer together during our work. He was looking at me.

"You're going into town?" he said quietly. I couldn't read his emotion.

"Well, yeah," I replied, "Where else am I gonna get flowers and stuff? I'm really looking forward to it, too. Do you know if there're any festivals coming up? It'd be great to catch one."

"No. I don't know." Conversation over. These people were really not good with their subtlety.



We worked in silence until Svetlana needed my help for lunch. I breathed a sigh of relief; all the silence was driving me crazy. Just another hour or two until I could go to the library. It was the usual, borscht. Svetlana only showed her culinary muscle for dinners.

Walking into the library, I was amazed at the differences from last night. It was still a warm, incredibly inviting and relaxing place, but the magic of it had dimmed. Maybe because I could see everything. In the dark, the bookcases were beyond size, disappearing into the purple-black of night. I would never have guessed there were balconies up there. Crawford was wiping down the side of the orange bookcase, up on one of the ladders.

"Need any help, Crawford?" I said. He seemed to be having a time stretching all the way around the bookcase.

"Don't mind me, Sasha. By the way," he grunted as he made another large swipe at the bookcase, "Thank you for finding that book, it's one of my favorites."

"Yeah, Beast told me." Hm, maybe I shouldn't have said that. Crawford climbed down the ladder with surprising speed and was staring at me while I went about dusting the shelves of the green bookcase.

"So," he said nonchalantly, which was a feat in itself, "You met him?"

"Yup, he helped me find the book." He wants to be nonchalant, he's just met the master, "He said your handwriting might as well have been Chinese calligraphy." I chuckled at the memory. I wondered why I hadn't found that funny last night. I guess I was too worried he'd take a crack at my illiteracy. Hopefully I wouldn't have to worry about that again, if Beast's offer was anything to go on.

"I am sorry about that. I tried to be neater so you would understand."

"Well, you should work on that, if you want to send me on more errands. Actually, don't work on it. It won't matter soon. Beast said he'd teach me to read. Isn't that nice of him?" I didn't wait for the answer, which I got the feeling wasn't coming.



Breathing in the hall after cleaning dinner dishes had to be one of my favorite things in the entire world, next to working in the library. I sucked in the sweet air gratefully, before half-sprinting down the halls to my favorite place. Oh God, I hope he's there. I could barely feel the cold that was draped over the castle at night. I was breathing hard when I finally reached the great door. I took a moment to compose myself before calmly pulling open the door and entering.

It was exactly as it had been. Moonlight poured into the library, while an orange accent was added by the candelabras. I wondered who lit them, but assumed it was Crawford. I admired his dedication. I had no idea where to meet Beast; the library seemed ten times larger at night. I took a candelabra, more for comfort than light, and began to wander. I walked down the blue bookcase, where Crawford's book had been. I turned the corner and saw Beast there, in the same seat he had been the night before. I smiled; glad to have found him myself, not the other way around. I wasn't sure how I'd have reacted to him materializing out of the darkness in front of me.

"Beast?" I said, not wanting to surprise him.

"There you are." I smiled wider; I'd been waiting to hear his quietly thunderous voice again all day.

"So? Did you mean what you said last night?" This brought his eyes, glinting dangerously, to mine.

"Of course. Why would I lie to you?" Oops, I shouldn't have said that.

"I don't know. Are we gonna get started?" I sat down on the armchair next to Beast's.

"Yes," he replied, "I figured the best place to start is in the beginning-"

"You think?" I was beginning to feel silly about this whole arrangement.

"Yes," he countered, "I DO think."

"Sorry, I'll be quiet," I wasn't as repentant as I sounded. It was nice to finally find someone who didn't just suck up any insult or sarcastic comment I shoveled out, but threw it back in my face like I deserved.

He didn't respond to my apology, "The beginning being the alphabet."

"The what?" I said, watching him pull out a piece of paper and a pencil (A/N: I don't know what they used to write with back then, so just picture a pencil as a stick of lead.)

"The alphabet," he replied, "is what you use to form words, which form sentences, then paragraphs, and maybe essays, or letters, or even poetry. It all starts with the alphabet." Oh man, this would be harder than I thought. Beast took the pencil and began to write. The symbols were slightly familiar, though they had no meaning. They were more or less the same as the titles of the books and Crawford's note, only a lot less flowery. I was glad for that, he had much neater writing than Crawford.

He stopped writing, the page was half-full of symbols, "The alphabet is made up of twenty-six letters, each with a different sound. If you want to learn to read, you have to memorize what each sounds like, as well as how to write them."

"Okay." I forced myself to think about how much better it would be when I could read and write, while reminding myself that it wouldn't be easy. I had that to thank the servant's life for: I was no stranger to hard work, and, for fear of losing my job, would keep working until I got it right.

"We're going to take this one letter at a time, but don't get frustrated, slow is best when it comes to learning these things."

"Okay." I took a deep breath and focused on the first symbol, I mean letter.

He pointed to it, saying, "This is the letter A. Words that start with A are words like air, animal, things like that. Now, I want you to write A like I did," he pulled out another paper, "on this page." He held out the pencil. I bit my lip. This was going faster than I thought! He's already having me write? I took another breath. Don't quit now!

"Okay, you're the boss." I took the pencil and put it between my fingers in my right hand. It felt really unfamiliar. I put the tip of the pencil to the paper.

"Wait," Beast said, nearly scaring me shitless.

"What?!" He took my hand, rearranging my fingers so that the shaft of the pencil laid on the left side of my middle finger, me thumb and forefinger balancing it. Why was my heart popping off again? It was really annoying. I was trying to learn something here, and I felt like I had developed a weak heart within fifteen seconds of contact with Beast.

"There," he said, my fingers in a satisfactory position, "You'll write better with your hand that way."

"Thanks." I once again put the tip of the pencil to the paper. Okay, here we go, I studied Beast's A. I could do this, easy. I drew one line up, slanted slightly to the right. Okay, the next line slanted slightly, meeting the first at the top. Oops, the second line's a little too short. I went to fix it, but Beast's hand covered mine.

"Don't worry about correcting mistakes now," he said quietly, "Just get the letter on the page." He let go.

"Okay." I finished the A with the small side-to-side line in the middle. My hand jerked suddenly, making the small line too long. Yuck, it looked kind of like Beast's A, if you had a sense of humor.

"Good," Beast said, sounding pleased. I liked the way his voice rumbled as he spoke, "Very good, especially for the very first try." I smiled, happy with myself.

"Okay," I said, "On to the next letter, right?" I wanted to continue, now that I had A down.

"Wrong, I told you before, one letter at a time. That's all we'll do tonight." I stared at him, my brow creased.

"Why? I'm ready for the next letter, I can do it!" I knew I could, I didn't have to wait!

"No, you're not ready," he said, his voice maddeningly calm, "You haven't learned A. You may think you have, but you haven't. I want you, in your spare time, of course, to look at your letter A, and write it over and over on this paper, until you know it inside and out. Then, we'll start on the next letter."

"Okay, fine. You're right, I know you're right. I'll do it."

"Good. I told you you'd get frustrated," he suddenly smiled broadly, his fangs glinting in the candlelight, "Now, I think we can have some fun."

"Huh?" I was mystified. He turned around in his chair, and pulled out a book.

"I'm going to read to you, if you'd like me to." He looked up at me, I could see the hope in his spectacular eyes. Wow, he really loved to read, didn't he?

"Sure, what's the book?" It was fairly thick, and old too.

"An oldie, but a goodie, I think you'll like it. If you like action," again the questioning but hopeful eyes.

"Yeah, I like action as much as the next girl."

"Good." He began reading. All at once I was caught up in Homer's, as I found out later, writing. At first it was hard to follow, separating descriptions of people from places and things. It seemed that every time somebody met somebody, they'd go through this ridiculously long conversation about how great the other one was. Talk about butt kissing, they were worse than Dad during an interview. But Beast was right, the action was incredible. I found myself leaning closer and closer to Beast's voice, like a flower to the sun. I nearly fell out of my seat when Beast snapped the book shut.

"That's all for tonight, it's late." He stood up, as did I, blinking away the adrenaline pumping through me.

"Okay, that was fun." Beast gathered up the papers, then stood still, his arm bent inward. I looked from his arm to his face questioningly. What did he think he was doing?

"Anytime you wanna stop torturing me is just fine," he said, not looking at me.

"If you insist," I said hesitantly, slipping my arm through his. I bent my head to hid the smile lurking around my face. Wow, look at me, the help, arm in arm with the master. He took a candelabra and strode through the blue bookcase and toward the door. I thanked God for my long legs, the thought of tripping on Beast's arm nearly made me trip.

He led me all the way back to the servants' quarters entrance. I wiped the stupid little smile off my face before I faced him.

"Thanks," I said. Feeling much more comfortable than I thought I would have in this kind of situation.

"Good night, Sasha." Ugh, he just had to say my name in that rumbly way of his, making my head go all dizzy again.

"Night," I replied, keeping my eyes focused on his, so I didn't fall over.

"Don't forget your pages." He thrust them between us quickly, and I took them, feeling confused.

"Thanks," I murmured, looking from his page of letters, to my A. When I looked up, he was gone. Hmph, we'd have to talk about that.



A/N: I didn't like that chapter as much as the last, which I guess makes sense, seeing as how the last one was so much more significant. I think another lame exposition filled chapter is coming up next, unless I get an overwhelming surge of Beast fan mail. See you guys, review if you feel like it!