Author's note: Beauty continues her narration of a day in her new life at the Beast's enchanted castle, and she makes a startling revelation about herself…
Disclaimer/claimer: The usual, I don't own 'fairy' tales, I own 'faery' tales, blah blah blah. I also own the faery language, some of which you will see in this chapter – fairies may not be mine, but faeries are! On with the story.
(Beauty's point of view, continued)
However, she thought she might as well walk about until then, and view this fine castle, which she could not help admiring; it was a delightful, pleasant place…
I was stunned anew every single time that I saw one of the castle's many libraries, of which there seemed to be no end. Their walls were at least seventy feet high, and were entirely covered in shelves of hundreds of thousands of books. Another twenty feet of space was devoted to cathedral-like, domed ceilings that were ornamented lavishly, sometimes with gold, sometimes with silver, sometimes with crystal, or even paintings. I entered the first library that I came across and went to the nearest row of shelves.
The books that I saw dealt with the faeries of the White Realm.
Most of the faery tales that I had ever heard, or read, had to do with that place, and I had long wondered what it was like. Surely, if anything were even close to the fabled palace of Avalennon, it would be this castle! And that gave me a great thrill, thinking that my new home was somewhat like the places in the greatest legends.
I picked out a book and carried it over to the chaise lounge that stood near, placed close enough to the fire that its flames gave me enough light to read by, but not so close that its heat was overbearing. It was still winter, but today the sun shone beautiful and bright. It was extremely pleasant, for winter. Upon opening the book and scanning its title, I discovered that I had made a slight error.
Éindorean was the given international language and nearly every person in any country of the Known World spoke it, but this book was in the faery tongue! I felt instant disappointment. How was I supposed to read the tales within the book if I had no grasp whatsoever on the exalted language of magic and enchantment?
But then something very, very strange happened. My eyes focused on one of the words. Tythliara.
"Stories."
I jerked as if I had just experienced a seizure and stared at the page before me, unable to believe what I had just done. I had never read anything in faery before, and I certainly hadn't ever spoken it…and yet I had just translated that word into my own native tongue as if I had been fluent in faery all of my life! I hastily read the next word, Jisinoir, just to reassure myself that I wasn't seeing things.
"Told."
Stories Told.
This wasn't happening.
"Stop it!"
I slammed the book's cover shut, pushing it away from myself abruptly, and as I stared at it, recoiling from its leather cover and gilded pages as if it was a poisonous reptile of some sort, I felt myself begin to tremble.
What's happening to me? ran through my mind.
I got up again and ran from the library, questions and fears and uncertainties whirling in my head. Blindly, I fell against the doors and fled, not quite knowing where I was going but certain that I had to get away.
So I went the only way that I could – the way that my senses told me was out. Then, as I stepped into the clean, fresh sunlight outside, I lifted my face to the skies, letting it drink in my living presence, and tried to clear my mind.
No, this castle wasn't playing horrible, dirty little tricks on my mind. No, I wasn't reading faery words and understanding them perfectly. No, this wasn't true, it couldn't be, it would never be…!
I ran down the stairs that led out from the doors through which I had just passed, down the garden path, gravel flying when my feet hit the ground. I sighted a gracefully beautiful pergola with an angled roof and pillars that served as its walls, upon which ice-laced ivy grew in abundance, and ran into it, catching myself against a pillar and holding onto it for support, as I buried my face in the curve of my arm. My chest was heaving for air because I was struggling so hard to keep myself from bursting out into frantic tears.
"What is this place?" I cried to the air that surrounded me. "Why are you doing this to me? What do you want?"
What do you want, what do you want, what do you want.
The phrase filled my mind, turning into a thousand echoes of itself, and I felt as if I was just about to go mad, if that hadn't already happened.
What kind of powers were governing this castle, that it should have flowers that always bloomed, and floating, shape-shifting orbs of light that could speak, and other wonders that I couldn't begin to imagine? And a Beast was an enchanter! What did he want from me? Why was this happening to me? What was going on? Was I losing my mind?
Then I thought of myself and what I had been before all of this had happened, and I thought of my bitter life with my hateful stepfamily, and of my father, and of the white rose, and of the Beast, and somehow, that was worst of all.
I don't know how long I had been there, gasping for breath and sliding in and out of consciousness. Suddenly, I received the sense that there was someone else near me, standing just a little way off, and I looked up, dazed, and stared.
"Beauty…"
I had managed to become used to what the Beast looked like, as his face didn't frighten me, and I had even somewhat accustomed myself to the sound of his voice, which was sometimes like a cross between that of a human and that of a wild animal, but somehow hearing him say my name at that moment was both startling and comforting. I gazed at him for a moment, feeling numb and detached from reality.
He was wearing black, as always, but the hood of his cloak had been thrown back on his shoulders, as if he had forgotten to pull it up. He looked…concerned. Worried. Anxious. His golden eyes were searching and yet strangely gentle, and I wanted to collapse into a torrent of tears and sobbing.
"What's wrong?" he asked me.
I was jerked roughly back to reality.
"Beast…" I said, the one syllable word of his name sounding more like a whimper than a greeting from my numb lips. I looked deep into his eyes, seeing gentle concern and a genuine desire to help in them.
Even a Beast could have emotions.
And then, suddenly, I wanted to tell him what was wrong. I wanted to tell him what had just happened to me, and I wanted to confide in him and let him tell me, since he was the master of this castle, what was wrong with me – if that was the case. I wanted to feel the calming reassurance of telling someone of what lay in my heart.
"Something's wrong with me." I told him, looking up at him with both uncertainty and fear in my eyes: the same uncertainty and fear that was in my soul, haunting me. "Something's wrong with me and I don't know what it is."
He looked at me for another moment, seeming to read something in me, and then he moved, very slowly, as if he didn't want to frighten me, and removed his long, full black cloak, placing it on my shoulders. The cold wind hesitantly stirred his thick golden mane, and I whispered, "Thank you."
A slight nod of the head was all the reply he gave to this; and then he gestured silently for me to take a seat on one of the several marble benches that had been placed nearby in the pavilion-like structure that we now stood in, seeming intent on something else, something far in the distance. I did as I was directed to, and for a very long moment, we were both motionless, wordless.
Suddenly, he turned his head back to me and caught me looking at him. I was surprised anew by the…I don't know what to call it; the humanity, perhaps?, in his dragon-like eyes as he returned my gaze.
"Nothing is wrong with you, Beauty," he said, putting a special emphasis on the word 'wrong'. He moved again to rest one hand, which mostly resembled a cross between a human wrist, palm, and fingers and a dragon's claws, on the pillar that he stood next to, half-leaning up against it. Holding his still warm, heavy cloak about me, trying not to shiver, I watched him carefully.
"There can't be – believe me, you would have known. Things that are wrong, as opposed to simply out of the ordinary, don't happen in a place like this without…"
He hesitated, seeming as if he was searching for the right word to describe what he was about to say.
"Without someone's realizing it. I would have known."
Then he glanced at me, as if to verify that I understood him.
I did.
Then, he asked, his voice soft, "What is it, Beauty?"
I looked down at my hands, which I had woven together in my lap, and told him, in a rush, of all that had happened to me that morning in the library.
By the time that I was done and had raised my eyes to his face again, I was feeling more shaky than before. And he had a very peculiar expression on his face. One that seemed almost like the dawning reflection of recognition…however that could be.
"Beauty…" he began, in a queer, intense tone, "did you ever know your mother?"
He knew about Nelisia, who was my stepmother, but why he was inquiring about my long dead, real mother was beyond me. I shook my head, confused.
"She died giving birth to me."
He was scrutinizing me then, I realized.
"I can't believe it. It's absolutely beyond anything…"
He trailed off, and I was suddenly hit with the realization that he knew something – something about me – that I didn't. My curiosity piqued in spite of my fears, I gazed at him in interest and asked, trying to keep my voice level and unhurried, "What?"
But he was shaking his head and staring at something in front of him, seeming as if he hadn't quite heard me. Then, he replied, "I knew that there was something about you that I recognized. Something in your features, in your way of moving, in your voice, your eyes…" He shook his head again. "It's almost beyond belief."
"What is?"
I was feeling very desperate.
Finally, he looked at me, and there was a new light in his golden eyes.
"You're faery, Arielle. Half-faery, to be exact…but still faery."
I felt faint.
"How – you – what?" I sputtered.
He roused himself and stood straight before me, his black figure casting a shadow over me, and rolled his powerful shoulders, seeming restless as he dragged the claw-tipped fingers of one long, well toned hand through his mane.
"I'm an enchanter, milady," he said, reverting to using my formal title instead of my name, which he had just called me by the moment before. "Wielders of magic and enchantment often recognize each other. Your mother was from the White Realm – you have the look of the faeries in your features, you move with their same inherent lightness of step and grace, you speak with their elegance of voice, and your eyes have the wondrous sparkle of true magic in them. You're faery. It explains your being able to see the things here – the Sprytes, and such – and accept them for reality. It explains your ability to read the faery language without ever seeing it before. You have great powers."
I felt as if I was in the middle of a strange but wonderful and terrifying dream. I was half-faery, he could see that I had the blood of the legendary White Realm in my veins, and I had great powers. Powers?
"What kind of powers? This is…impossible!"
He sank down onto one knee beside me, still keeping a respectful distance of about two feet between us, and his eyes pierced into mine, searching and alert.
"Nothing is impossible in our world, Arielle."
Suddenly, I felt as if I loved the way he said my name…
"Nothing. You are a member of a race of a great people, milady, and you have powers of magic and enchantment resting within you, simply waiting to be used. It is your choice whether you embrace this side of yourself or not, but…"
He eyed me again, speculatively.
"Your powers can be made to work at your whim, to bend to your will…if they were trained."
I was trying very hard to process all of this through my head. I had never known my mother. All I could be certain of, from seeing my father's one tiny portrait of her that he had kept in a locked drawer of his personal desk in our home, was that she had been very beautiful, with a pristine complexion of porcelain, vivid blue eyes that Papa said mine were so much like, and hair of spun gold.
Why couldn't she be faery? my mind asked, as I began to accept what the Beast was telling me. It was all becoming clear, and for some very odd reason, I knew that all of this…was true. Why couldn't my mother have been faery? It certainly explained her incredible beauty, for it was said that faeries were the most beautiful beings in the Known World, and it also somehow explained my comprehension of the faery book. Then why couldn't I be half-faery, and have powers of my own? Why not?
There was no reason why not.
If they were trained…
I looked at the Beast, who had turned away from me again, and I felt as if I was seeing him with eyes that were no longer clouded by doubt or by fear. Then I realized what he could very possibly be offering to me.
"Beast…"
I stood and crossed over to stand in front of him. He craned his head down – way down – to look at me, and then we both stared into one another's eyes.
"Could you…teach me?"
Was it just my mind, or did those golden spheres flicker for a fleeting second?
"Beauty…you know what it is that you ask – but, the question is…are you willing for this?" he asked me. There was something very grave, something very heavy and pressing, in the air between us.
Is this what being faery is like?
I reached out my hand towards him, pulling it back just before it came to within touching distance, and looked at him full in the face then, asking myself in my mind if I would ever learn how to read that feral and untamed, embittered but saddened, passionate and yet defeated face.
"I'm not sure of anything in my life, Beast…" I replied.
"But yes…I am willing."
* * * * * *
Author's note: Like I said, Arielle has now made a rather startling revelation about her true heritage – she is of the same race as two of her favorite storybook legends, Arin and Elladine. (And, by the way, if you don't know about these two, my other brain-children, read my first fic of this hopeful series, Wings of the Heart, found in the Originals section under the fantasy category…) Now let's hear some more from the Beast, shall we? ^_^