Author's note: The adventure comes to an end – or does it? Read to find out! ^_^
Disclaimer/claimer: I don't own fairy tales, but some of the characters in this (including Griff!) are mine. Now, enter my world and enjoy…
(Beauty's point of view, continued)
That night, I had a nightmare more terrible than any I had ever had before. I saw myself, as a nine-year-old, in the middle of a whirling, macabre carnival: surrounded by figures in garish costumes of scarlet and gold and black, with leering faces and darting eyes. I was looking for someone, but I couldn't find him. The people around me began to move in closer to me, pressing about me, and I felt as if I was being choked. I heard music – elusive, haunting, mind-shattering music – coming from all directions, and as I looked up, trying to find the ceiling above myself, I suddenly glimpsed a flash of brilliant light, moving away into darkness as it was engulfed. Through all of the cacophony, I heard a voice calling to me: a voice that I knew and trusted, the voice of a friend…
"Beauty! Beauty! Beauty!"
Someone was standing beside me, hands on my shoulders, shaking me. I had to wake up! Wake up, Arielle!
"Beauty!" insisted the voice again.
And suddenly my eyes flew open, and I was staring up at the canopy covering of my bed, and I was lying on my back, tangled bedclothes and mussed nightgown swathed about me. With a strangled gasp, I turned my head a fraction of an inch to the side and saw the Beast. He was hovering over me, bent far forwards over the bedside, and both of his hands were gripping my shoulders. I suddenly felt shaky and unsteady and absolutely terrified – even more so now that I was awake than I had been during the dream – and my skin was clammy with a cold sweat.
"Beast!" I sputtered, and he abruptly sat down on the edge of the bed, forcing me to sit up, his hands sliding down from my shoulders to my elbows, and we stared at one another. I was gasping for breath.
Finally, when I had managed to control myself once more and contain my emotions, I asked him, in a trembling, small voice, how he had known to come.
He looked at me for another long, scrutinizing moment, and then he replied, "I heard you screaming. Nothing happens to you in this castle without my knowing it."
Just like today, I thought, cryptically.
I remembered then, quickly, how the giant – whom I was fairly certain I had seen in my nightmare just then – had kidnapped me and the Beast had come to my rescue within mere hours of my abduction. He really did know. I shivered and he started, seeming to have recalled something, and stood, towering above me at his seven-odd feet of height. He pulled the covers up around me and put his gigantic hand on my shoulder once more, making me lean back against the mound of pillows that were behind me, and I saw his eyes glitter in the low light that the glowing embers in the fireplace cast into the room. The rest of his body was cloaked in shadows, but every now and then I caught a glimpse of something smooth and white, and something else that was shiny and black. We both listened to the sound of the heavy silence then for a moment, and I felt reassured by the greater noise of his steady, deep breathing.
"Thank you." I whispered.
There was a quick movement up in those shadows above my head, as if he had been looking at something else, perhaps out the window or whatnot, and then had turned his face towards me again. Then, "You're welcome." He sounded as if he was unsure of what to say. I toyed with the coverlet in front of me, picking restlessly at the lacy fringe on the cuffs of my nightgown's full sleeves, and silence stepped in between us again.
"Beast?"
Another movement in the darkness; he had shifted position.
Well, say it. Speak to him.
"Could you…keep me company…for a while?" Heavens, I felt foolish! "I…don't think I'm going to be able to go back to sleep yet. I'm sorry, it's just that…"
"Nightmares are very unsettling things, milady. I bear witness to this."
I saw him make a quick gesture with his claw-tipped fingers, flicking his wrist a bit, and there was a gust of air from the general area of the fireplace, and a bright, cheerful batch of flames burst into existence, and we could see each other's faces clearly.
"I thought you might say that – and yes, I will. Nightmares in this castle are…" He hesitated there, looking as if he was hard-pressed to find his next words, "very much different than those in the world beyond. I understand why you don't desire to go back to sleep right away."
He said these words very softly and humbly, but there was also quite a bit of matter-of-fact, knowing intelligence in them. He knew about all of this, didn't he?
I nodded, slightly bemused by all of that, and he took a step back, offering me his hand so that I could rise. When this had been done, he crossed the room to the door, telling me – over his shoulder as he went out – that he was going to his own room for a moment and that I should meet him in the drawing room nearest to my chambers. I hurried into my dressing room, glad to have an excuse for being awake at this late time of night, and found my special Spryte, the one who attended me the most often, waiting for me and hovering about in the air, shifting shape rapidly in obvious concern.
It took me a moment to dispel her worries, but I think that she was more put at ease when I told her that the Beast was going to keep me company until I was ready to return to my room. I slipped on a sleeveless dressing gown of a massy gold-and-crimson brocade with a trailing hem, and went to the drawing room where I had been instructed to meet my one friend and master in the art of magic and enchantment.
As I had expected, he was already there and had just finished giving a set of instructions to a Spryte who was lighting the last of the tall white candles in the room when I arrived. I stood at the doorway for a moment, watching him, and then he turned around, his golden eyes flicking to meet mine.
He now wore, I noticed, a robe similar to my own: with the exception that his had long sleeves that tapered out slightly at the wrists and its hem only came down to about halfway above his knees. His other attire was a pair of form-fitting black breeches and matching boots, and a full-cut, silky white shirt that gleamed in the candlelight. The thought struck me that he actually looked quite handsome, in spite of his strange face and hands. No matter what he thought of his appearance, I saw it as really startlingly attractive. Dazed by this, I moved to accept his hand and sat down in one of the wingback chairs that had been pulled up before the drawing room's gigantic marble-and-jade fireplace for our use.
I waited until he sat down across from me, observing his movements, and then our eyes met again. I saw that the corners of his mouth were twitching and realized that it must be in barely contained laughter at the seriousness in my own expression. We both burst out laughing and I turned my head to the side and down, trying to hide my deep, inflaming blush. Finally, when we sat back, I looked at him again.
"We're going to have to stop running into these odd circumstances, milord." I told him, smiling wryly. "I really don't think that my mind can stand much more of it!"
"Oh, believe me," he replied, grinning – which exposed a great many of his long, brilliantly white teeth, "You haven't seen the half of it."
"Dear lords of Dernhire!" I couldn't help my unbridled reaction to that. "First marauding giants and talking geese and oversized beanstalks – what more could there be to experience? Or will you even give me a fair warning?"
He glanced up at me, fingering the glass of wine that he held in one hand – the Sprytes had left us with a bottle of fine, dark Port and a pair of clear glass goblets, and he had just poured some for us – and I saw the sparkle of mischief in his dragon's eyes.
"I could…" he said, slyly. "And I might as well."
He set the bottle of wine down, handing me my glass, and sat back in his chair, crossing one of his legs over the other, and looked thoughtful for a moment. Then, he asked me, "Have you ever heard the tale of duck that was swallowed whole?"
I shook my head, wrinkling my nose like a confused child.
"No."
"Otherwise known as Peter and the Wolf?"
Now we were in familiar territory – I had heard of the tale, but I had never actually read it or had it told to me.
"Well then," was his reply to that, "I suppose that this is your 'fair warning'.
Early one morning, Peter opened the gate and went out into the big green meadow. On a branch of a big tree sat a little bird, Peter's friend. 'All is quiet, all is quiet!' chirped the bird gaily. Yes, all is quiet.
Just then a duck came waddling 'round. She was glad that Peter hadn't closed the gate and decided to take a nice swim in the deep pond in the meadow.
Seeing the duck, the little bird flew down upon on the grass, settled next to her and shrugged his shoulders. 'What kind of bird are you if you can't fly?' said he. To this the duck replied, 'What kind of bird are you if you can't swim?' and dived into the pond.
They argued and argued, the duck swimming in the pond and the little bird hopping along the shore. Suddenly, something caught Peter's attention. It was a cat crawling through the grass. The cat thought, 'The bird is busy arguing – I'll just grab him.' Stealthily she crept towards him on her velvet paws.
'Look out!' shouted Peter and the bird immediately flew up into the tree, while the duck quacked at the cat…from the middle of the pond."
I burst out laughing then, imagining the scenario of a red-breasted robin with an attitude being confronted by a hungry tabby cat, with a know-it-all albeit somewhat absent-minded mallard duck and an adventurous young boy for companions. The Beast then continued the story, and I found myself increasingly amazed by the animation and humor with which he told it.
"The cat walked around the tree and thought, 'Is it worth climbing up so high? By the time I get there the bird will have flown away.'
Just then Grandfather came out. He was angry because Peter had gone in the meadow. 'It is the dangerous place! If a wolf should come out of the forest, then what would you do?' But Peter paid no attention to his grandfather's words. Boys like Peter aren't afraid of wolves. But Grandfather took Peter by the hand, locked the gate and led him home.
No sooner had Peter gone, than a big gray wolf came out of the forest.
In a twinkling the cat climbed up into the tree. The duck quacked, and in her excitement jumped out of the pond. But no matter how hard the duck tried to run, she couldn't escape the wolf! He was getting nearer, nearer, catching up with her…!
Then he got her and with one gulp…swallowed her."
When the Beast said those words, the look on his face sent me into gales of howling laughter. I could hardly bring myself to stop so that I could breath – when he said 'swallowed her', his head dropped down so that he was looking up at me, brows lifted, and he looked like a cross between a guilty puppy and a mortuary assistant.
"And now, this is how things stood: the cat was sitting on one branch, the bird on another…not too close to the cat. And the wolf walked round and round the tree, looking at them with hungry eyes.
In the meantime, Peter, without the slightest fear, stood behind the gate watching all that was going on. He ran home, got a strong rope. and climbed up the high stone wall. One of the branches of the tree around which the wolf was walking stretched out over the wall. Grabbing hold of the branch, Peter lightly climbed over on to the tree. Peter said to the bird: 'Fly down and circle over the wolf's head – only take care that he doesn't catch you!'
The bird almost touched the wolf's head with his wings while the wolf snapped angrily at him, this side and that. How that bird teased the wolf! And how the wolf wanted to catch him! But the bird was cleverer, and the wolf simply couldn't do anything about it. Meanwhile, Peter made a lasso and, carefully letting it down…caught the wolf by the tail and pulled with all his might!
Feeling himself caught, the wolf began to jump wildly, trying to get loose. But Peter tied the other end of rope to the tree, and the wolf's jumping only made the rope round his tail tighter. Just then the hunters came out of the woods, following the wolf's trail and shooting as they went. But Peter, sitting in the tree, called out: 'Don't shoot! Birdie and I have already caught the wolf. Now help us take him to the zoo, will you?'
Now just imagine the triumphant procession. Peter at the head. After him the hunters leading the wolf. And, winding up the whole procession, Grandfather and the cat. Grandfather shook his head discontentedly.
'Well, if Peter hadn't caught the wolf? What then?'
Above them flew Birdie chirping merrily.
'My, what brave fellows we are, Peter and I! Look what we have caught!'
And if one would listen very carefully, he would hear the duck quacking inside the wolf, because the wolf, in his hurry, had swallowed her…alive."
I sat back in my chair, laughing once more, until the wine glasses rang with the sound of it and I could hardly breath again. I looked up, shaking my head and grinning like an idiot, and gazed at the vaulted ceiling above us. The Beast sat across from me, silent, and I could tell, even without looking, that he was watching me.
Finally, I turned back to him and said, thoughtfully, "I like it…although I think that I could have come up with a much better ending. An ending that would have been happy for everyone, including the wolf and the duck."
If he had been a human, or even faery, I would have seen his eyebrows arch up then, but even as it was, he somewhat managed the expression.
"Oh?"
I leaned forward, placing my elbows just in front of my knees, and rested my chin on my curled up hands, letting my hair slide over my shoulders and fall loosely about my face, and gazed into his face, watching his golden eyes.
"One day not long after the wolf was taken to the zoo, he was accidentally fed an omelet made with some magic mushrooms, which made him cough up the duck – which went waddling on her way, perfectly safe and sound. Then, a faery princess happened by the zoo and the wolf was able to transform back into his real self – a handsome prince. And they went off and lived happily ever after."
The Beast stirred, restlessly it seemed, and then he set his glass down on the table that was conveniently placed at his elbow and stood, crossing the room to the windows. I wondered if I was upset him and remained where I was, my stomach twisting slightly.
"What princess would fall in love with an animal?"
His voice was soft – very soft – but underneath the softness I could hear the barely concealed growl of a wild animal. Soft and low, but deadly. I looked down at my hands, tangled together in my lap, and spoke, my voice barely audible.
"It depends on the princess."
Suddenly, he whirled around and was staring at me, looking as if he had never seen me before or was just too amazed by what I had said to believe that it had been me who had said it. Or was so angry, for some odd, hidden reason, that he was debating whether to punish my offense by killing me now or when I least expected it.
Wait just a moment now, Arielle Laclarien, I told myself. This is the Beast you're talking about. He is your friend and fellow companion in the art of magic and enchantment, and he will not simply kill you just because he is angry at something that you said!
Or would he?
Just how much of a beast is he?
"If only it were that easy." I heard him mutter, and then I looked up again, my gaze roving across the room to find him. He was staring out the window once more, but then he turned and faced me, the faintest semblance of a smile on his noble face.
"You're tired now, aren't you?"
I had to confess that I was.
He crossed the room and held out a hand to me. I hesitated for the briefest moment, wondering if he had simply chosen to ignore my words – whatever he had interpreted their meaning to be – or if he was still thinking them over. He gave no indication either way. We left the drawing room and, within seeming seconds, we had reached the doors leading into my set of chambers. I paused by the door, looking into the shadows and blackness beyond it, and I suddenly felt possessed by reluctance to return into the world of sleep and dreams. My nightmare still haunted me in the deepest regions of my mind, where it could stick like an irritating splinter until it drove me mad.
The Beast must have seen my so-very-obvious hesitation.
"It's all right, you know," he said, quietly. I looked up at him, over my shoulder, and realized just how close he was standing to me. When he spoke, his breath stirred my hair just ever so slightly. I felt so reassured and safe with him there…
"Nothing will come to haunt you, nothing will ever harm you. I won't let anything enter this castle that has ill intentions towards its one and only mistress."
One and only mistress…and you are the master…
I was about to ask him something then, I don't know what, but it was clearly a ploy to keep from returning to my room, and he had decided that it was high time for me to be asleep. "All right, that's it!" he said, and then suddenly his arms went around my legs, just behind the knees, and I shrieked just a bit as I found myself lifted clean off of my feet and swung into the air.
The Beast grinned – rakishly, almost – at me as he stepped over the thresh hold and into the room beyond.
"It is now time for bed, milady," he informed me, as if he was a nurse who was very fed up with her young charge and had made the decision that the games were over. "You are going to go to sleep now, and if I have to sit on the edge of your bed all night and hold you down with both of my arms pinning your hands to the mattress, I will, so help me every one of the seven powers of the world."
"But what if they're on my side?" I asked, plaintively, and then he deposited me, none too gracefully, out of his arms and onto one of the drawing room couches. I hit it once and then bounced up because of the sheer spring in the padding, falling back into the pillows that were there, which scattered everywhere. When I had cleared them off of myself, I saw him standing at the edge of the couch, observing me with an air of interest.
"I don't think anyone's made me laugh this hard in…oh, a very long time," he stated, casting me a smug look. I threw a pillow at him, which he only just avoided by ducking to the side, although it clipped his shoulder on its way through the air.
"I don't think I've had a pillow fight in a very long time."
"Obviously!" he retorted, retrieving the pillow from the floor and tossing it carelessly back onto the couch.
In another moment, I had scrambled up onto my feet, and said, more seriously, as I removed my robe and looked at it thoughtfully, "You know…if I were at home right now, I wouldn't be having near this much fun."
"Fun?" he asked, coolly, as he picked my robe, which I had thrown at him; it had found its target this time, very accurately, up off of his head and draped it over an armchair that rested nearby.
Then he reached down and threw another pillow at me.
"Yes, fun." I replied, stepping deftly aside to let the pillow sail by me, brushing at my nightgown's skirts on it way to the floor. "If I were at home right now, I would only have a few more hours of sleep left to enjoy, and then it would be up before sunrise to start my chores for the day."
"You mean your drudgery."
I hadn't said as much, but it really went without saying.
"In fact…" I spoke freely as the thoughts came into my head, and this one transformed itself into words before I had realized what I was doing, "My life would be very much different now if I had never come here."
"How so?" he inquired, politely.
"Well, for starters…"
I folded my arms, hugging them around myself.
"My wonderful stepmother would probably be doing her best to marry me off to some horrible old goat."
He grinned then, flashing his teeth brilliantly.
"I'm over three hundred years old."
Three hundred years! I nearly choked in shock. Then I laughed, half-nervously and half in protest, as I replied, "Yes, well, not that your age really matters, but I'm not married to you!"
He turned away, the claws on a few of his fingers moving to stroke the fine coverlet that had been placed over the back of the couch, and his voice was slightly muffled when he spoke next. I found myself staring at his thick golden mane.
"No…you're not."
He faced me again, and I saw the soft, somewhat sad smile on his face, and knew that something was wrong. He would never tell me what that something was, I could tell, but he wasn't hiding the fact that there was something amiss from me very well.
"Go to sleep now, Beauty. Have no fear."
I nodded. Conversation was over for that night. So I sent one last smile his way, went into my room and scrambled under the covers, watching him enter the room to dim the lights. In another moment, there was nothing to illuminate the room but the steady, pale stream of moonlight and starlight, filtering in through the window, and the line of warm, pure golden light that was streaming in from the drawing room through the door. I kept my eyes open long enough to see his figure silhouetted in the doorway as he lingered there for a moment.
"Good night, Beast."
A pause from the tall, powerful, dark figure.
"Good night, Beauty."
I turned over on my side, closing my eyes and feeling sleep already returning to me, and the last thing that I was consciously aware of was the sound of the door softly closing. Sleep possessed me, and I dreamed no more.
* * * * *
Author's note: So how about that for a little romance? Things aren't looking quite so black now as they were, are they? Perhaps even the Beast will soon see that not everything in the world is against them… Until the next update then…and if you all would kindly r&r, I might be tempted to update within, oh, say, maybe a day or two…?