A/N: To all those who reviewed, my gratitude! Right now I have to rush to work so just a quick note: The Cinderella bit is courtesy of the site (I think that's how it's spelled; apologies if not!). And also, my gratitude to Trudi for putting up with my agonizing whining; girl, bless you for that! Now enjoy Part II!
Part II – Intensity…
"'She was c-c-…"
"Conducted," Lumière muttered helpfully.
Over the course of the years, Lumière had succeeded in finding one foolproof way to secure time alone with Babette with the certainty of no one interfering: by teaching her how to read. The poor girl had never learned, as it was not necessary considering her station in life, but now, it not only gave them something to do together, but also benefited her. Even if she never picked up another book again once she learned, she would at least have the ability to get information if she needed it.
That was where they could be found one summer afternoon, comfortably sitting on the library chaise about to reach the conclusion of Cendrillon (Cinderella). Lumière had humorously suggested it as Babette could "truly relate to a story about a maid." After scolding him, Babette agreed to it.
"'…conducted to the young prince dressed as she was,'" Babette continued slowly, still having some difficulty being a beginner. "'He thought her more…charming than ever, and after a few days, he married her.'" She paused to laugh mockingly, and said sarcastically under her breath, "Indeed, dressed as a servant, I am sure he did."
Lumière sighed. "Are you going to comment or continue?"
"Both," she answered with a playful grin.
"Well, at least finish the passage first; there is only a little left."
Babette pouted, glancing at the book again. "'Cendrillon, who was no less good than b-beau-ti-ful, gave her two sisters…l-lodge…'"
"Lodgings. It means 'a home,'" Lumière explained patiently.
"Why couldn't they just say that?" Babette growled, exasperated, before she finished. "'…lodgings in the palace, and that very day, matched them with two lords of court.'"
"Where, of course, they all lived happily ever after," Lumière concluded with the famous final line.
Babette rolled her eyes. "Tell me something that I have not heard," she groaned. "As if that is not said enough with such stories."
"We hear it because it is the truth."
"This is a fairy tale," she said pointedly. "Like the creatures they were named after, they do not exist; this never happened."
Lumière shrugged. "In this case, I disagree."
"How?" Babette asked. "No lowly servant girl can manage what she did: work her entire life and then move to a palace for romance's sake."
Lumière tightened his embrace around his lover as Babette put the book down to enjoy the warm, wonderful feeling of being in his arms.
"But you yourself did that very same thing, non?" he said. "Found happiness and love in a magnificent castle?"
"That was different," Babette mischievously contradicted. "She became a princess. I still have to work around here, and the prince is far too young for me. Therefore, I got saddled with you."
"You little wench, do not do me any favors," Lumière laughed, before drawing her lips to his own.
"For that response," she purred, "I shall have to tease more often."
"Bon, my very heart beats for your teases."
Babette ran her finger lightly over his lips. "I will remember that." She grinned flirtatiously. "For now, how about continuing that kiss…?"
"Say no more," Lumière conceded willingly with a smirk before obliging her request.
"Ahem!"
A voice from the doorway interrupted them moments later, forcing them to hastily part. Lumière's face suddenly took on a look of horrified realization as his eyes met Vincent's. The young prince, now a lad of fifteen years, sent a cold glare blazing at his servant, a look that had greatly intensified with age and could strike fear into the bravest men.
"I have been calling for the past quarter of an hour!" the prince shouted, as usual not hiding any of his anger. "I should not have to hunt you down whenever I need you to do something!"
"Begging your highness' pardon," Lumière replied, "I did not realize that there was anything else to be done before we left for la Celebration."
La Celebration d'Été, a meeting of royals and nobles annually at the end of every summer to wine, dine, and do whatever else they chose. In actuality, everyone knew it was a small excuse with little purpose to glorify themselves in front of their peers. There was very little to celebrate, but nonetheless, in their eyes, it was the most important gathering of the year.
Vincent, as expected, did not accept the plea. "Perhaps, you could have paid more attention if you were not so self-centered to think of your own worthless pleasure!"
Babette could hardly uphold a calm, collected appearance. The Prince of Selfishness accusing Lumière of being self-centered? That was certainly the pot calling the kettle black, she thought bitterly.
But at the word 'pleasure', she noticed Vincent eyeing her for a long moment, too long if she had any say, and Babette shifted uncomfortably under his stare. Even for a young man, Vincent was, in her opinion, already well skilled in the art of leering. She swore she could see his eyes drifting between her face and…rather unmentionable places.
Thankfully, Lumière spoke up once again, drawing Vincent's attention back to him. "What does your highness require then? As I said, everything is in order. The carriage is ready to leave, you yourself are dressed to perfection to be the envy…"
"On the contrary," Vincent interrupted, gesturing to his coat. "Everyone knows that I despise this wretched rag! I have chosen a more suitable coat from the wardrobe upstairs, which may I remind you is not my job to do, and it needs to be pressed."
"Pressed? Master, that could take another twenty minutes, at least!" Lumière protested. "Right now, we are completely on schedule; if we have to prepare another coat, we will be beyond fashionably late!"
"Then you should have thought of that before lazing about, shouldn't you?" Vincent growled. "You have no decision as to whether or not you will obey my orders; you will do as I ask. The new coat, pressed and ready, now."
Lumière sighed submissively. "Of course, master; I do not know what I was thinking."
"Of course you don't," Vincent replied curtly, removing the hated coat and letting it fall to the floor in a manner of authority and protest. Keeping any resentment in check, Lumière slowly moved to pick it up; as he did, Vincent spoke again, threateningly.
"This is not the first time this has happened, Lumière," he said. "It is your duty to attend to me the moment I call you; you should always be nearby in case I need anything. See to it that this is the last time you defy me, or else I assure you, your dismissal shall be ordered."
"As you wish, master," Lumière answered quietly.
Satisfied with the response, Vincent left the room as Lumière let out a relieved breath. As Babette followed wordlessly, he looked at her puzzled as they made their way to the West Wing.
"Why are you so silent?" Lumière asked, concerned.
Babette did not answer right away. Her worries that had needed confirmation had at last been obliged. That look on Vincent's face had proved them to be true, and she lowered her eyes, uncomfortable even thinking about it. It was the one look she had wished to leave behind from her days at Le Fleur Noir. Admiration was one thing; lust was another.
"He has the eye for me," she muttered quietly.
"The eye? What are you talking about?"
"Lumière, I am not blind and dumb," she said firmly. "I have seen the way he looks at me lately; I know what he is thinking and what he wants. He is fifteen years old, at last a man and aware of exactly 'what a woman is for.' Even more than that, he is a royal! Royals will take any woman they choose, especially in their homes where no one can stop them!"
Lumière immediately drew her close, and she accepted his embrace without hesitation. On the majority of occasions when Babette brought a man's glancing at her to his attention, Lumière knew it was mainly to tease and play like they always did. But at that moment, there was no mistaking the unsettled, almost frightened tone in her voice.
"I will speak with him," he said soothingly. "Do not worry, ma chérie; nothing will happen to you."
Babette sighed, wiping her misty eyes; she hated showing weakness by crying. "I can take care of myself, I know, but if I turn him away…oh Dieu, Lumière, he will have no doubts about dismissing me or worse! Then what will I do?"
"I said I would talk to him," Lumière repeated, kissing her cheek tenderly. "Our talks have succeeded in calming him or changing his mind in the past; I am sure one will not fail me now."
Babette nodded as she pulled away, but she allowed her hands to linger in his momentarily. "You better hurry before he starts planning your imprisonment for disobeying commands."
"As long as I know you will visit me, I am not afraid," Lumière said with a smile, victorious in his attempt to make her do so as well. "Now relax, and I will see you tonight, I swear it. Pick a new story if you would like; titles are not as difficult to read as the tale itself."
Babette gave him a playful slap in the arm, grinning, before she released him to his obligations. Turning her attention to the shelves, she was determined to ease her tension for now. Lumière would not let her down.
ooo
As it always was, the gala was a success, enjoyed by all. The men mingled amongst their own social ranks while their wives (and servants) gathered to discuss the latest gossip.
At first, Vincent hated attending these pointless events. In years past, he had been too young to understand being there "for appearance's sake," and moreover, any event that his uncle attended was one to stay as far away from as possible. He blamed that cursed man for every nightmare that had plagued his slumber as a child. Auguste clearly and outwardly despised his nephew, accusing the boy of being the cause of his parents' death, and Vincent did not have any doubts about returning the feeling.
In later years, however, much to the dismay of Vincent's servants, he passed the time by finding acquaintances his own age to make the celebration worth a visit: Claude, son of the Marquis de Sauvignon and Guilliame, son of the Comte de Margue. Two boys who, like Vincent, took extreme measures and threats to get their "rightful" ways.
Not too far from where the trio was presently gathered, but unfortunately out of hearing range, Lumière watched in disapproval as they eyed and inappropriately taunted a servant girl who must have been ordered to fetch her mistress some refreshments. One thing was for certain, Lumière decided; Vincent was definitely in need of a talk. Royalty be damned; treating any young lady who caught his eye like that, be they servant or royal, would not be tolerated. And who knew? Maybe with a bit of luck, this talk might just teach the prince a little more respect for all people; if anything, it was worth a try.
Meanwhile, as the girl stepped away, blushing furiously at what had been said to her, the boys turned amongst themselves once more, laughing.
"Figures, never one to admit how much she loves the attention," Claude said.
Guilliame added, "None of them ever will; such is the way of a woman."
Vincent smirked smugly. "Of course not, they must keep their precious 'virtue' intact."
"Virtue, yes, I'm sure," Claude laughed. "If only all of them could be more like that one maid we have heard about that works for you."
"Which one?" Vincent asked curiously.
"You mean to tell us that you do not know about Babette?" Guilliame laughed, but at Vincent's infamous glare, he calmed himself. "Everyone knows about her; she was not born and bred a servant."
"Really?" Vincent asked, his interest growing with his companion's every word. "Pray, go on."
"Ever hear of that Parisian dance hall, Le Fleur Noir?"
"Who hasn't?"
"Well…I heard my father talking about her after our last visit. She was a showgirl there, years ago; every man in society had seen her in their day. No one knows why she became a maid though."
"But who would care?" Claude scoffed. "A former show girl - we all know what that really means."
Vincent remained silent in thought, taking in every word that had been said. For the past year, he had begun to realize that women actually had an important, gratifying purpose, and the one that had caught his attention was Babette. Despite the fact that she was a good few years his senior, she was admittedly an incredibly attractive woman.
Why had he never been told about her past? Lumière, of all people, could have told him that…
But he obviously dared to keep the best for himself, Vincent thought with a scowl. The two were constantly together for as long as Vincent could remember, and his expression darkened as he recalled how he had found them in the library earlier. A meager, unworthy servant had the finest pick of the litter, leaving his prince to fend for himself with a less than perfect selection of females.
Seeing that he would talk very little for the remainder of the gala, Claude and Guilliame left Vincent to keep to himself, which did not arouse suspicion from them, or anyone for that matter. Vincent was often silent when he was not carousing with his peers. The next time he spoke was when the gala drew to a close, immediately sending Lumière to see that his carriage was prepared. The sooner they were home…the better.
ooo
"That will be all, Lumière; leave me," Vincent commanded as he shrugged into the housecoat that Lumière held for him.
As the prince lazily sat in a chair, Lumière could not help but notice the expression of deep thought that had taken over the boy's features. Often making an appearance during his daily schooling, a look of that sort meant that Vincent was in the middle of a passing daydream. But this time, it was as if he was plotting, and Lumière could not help feeling ill at ease at the sight.
"Are you positively certain, master?" he asked. "You do not need anything else?"
Vincent broke from his sudden reverie to scowl at Lumière impatiently. "You are already walking on thin ice today; if I were you, I would tread very carefully. I said that will be all, do I make myself clear?"
"As crystal," Lumière replied. "But you seemed as though something was bothering you; I thought I would try to help."
"You thought wrong," Vincent said sharply. "Now leave me. I am sure you have some little tramp waiting somewhere for you; must not keep her waiting."
Lumière had to literally swallow the words that dangerously threatened to escape from his lips and would most likely have him executed should they be said. Taking a deep, calming breath, he nodded as he walked to the door, deciding on the safe reply, "Bonsoir, master; pleasant dreams."
When he was certain that Lumière was gone, Vincent glanced at the clock on his bedside table. Quarter past nine, it read. From what little knowledge he had regarding his servants, one thing he was certain of was that their work was not complete until about ten o'clock or later. Perfect!
Silently, Vincent made his way down the grand staircase of the West Wing. As he passed each room in the various, massive hallways, he glanced inside every one long enough to search for any sign of life within, but each proved to be a failure. But then, as he approached the foyer, he heard a soft, yet distinct humming sound coming from one of the twin sitting rooms. Peeking through the partially opened door, he grinned in satisfaction upon finding Babette.
Greeted by her back, and certainly not minding the view, Vincent slipped inside the sitting room, gently closing the door so as not to make a sound. Thankful to have located his quarry, he watched intrigued as she polished some fragile knick-knacks, noticing how her skillful hands completed the task. How much experience she must have had with them in much more pleasurable situations for a mere polishing to be so simple! This was going to be glorious!
When she was finished, Babette nodded, satisfied with her work, but as she turned to leave, she halted with a gasp, startled suddenly by Vincent's unexpected presence.
"M-master," she stuttered, attempting a smile. "To what d-do I owe the honor of your…company? It is quite late, you know."
Vincent, without a response, slowly moved towards her with an air of dominance and power. As he held her gaze, Babette mimicked his every step in retreat, feeling as helpless as the prey of a ravenous beast. For a young man his age, Vincent was intimidating in stature, towering a good foot or two over her.
Loosing her footing, Babette stumbled backwards onto the chaise, but before she could stand again, Vincent sat beside her, clasping her wrists and staring at her with obvious desire. When he lifted her hands to his lips, she managed to free them from his grasp.
"Master, forgive me," she said, looking fearfully into his merciless eyes. "But I beg you, with every ounce of sincerity, do not do that."
Ignoring her plea, Vincent affectionately reached to stroke her cheek. "Do not play coy with me. I know the truth now, what you really are. There is no need to tease, at least...not in an innocent manner."
"The truth? I do not understand what you mean," Babette said, trying to back away from his touch, but not getting far as she felt the arm of the chaise against her backside. She was as powerless as a caged animal.
"Your past at Le Fleur Noir, of course," Vincent replied, his voice beginning to quiver excitedly. In exploration, he led his trembling hand to trace the low collar of her dress, caressing her womanly blessings with delightful surprise. He had never touched a woman so intimately before, and he had honestly never expected one to be as soft as she was.
"Your days as a famous show girl will certainly help us tonight," he whispered. "Instruct me in the ways of love, and I will be your willing student."
Recovering from her stunned state of mind when he leaned forward to steal an unwelcome kiss, Babette hastily pried herself away, but Vincent would not allow her to escape so easily. Just as quickly, he followed, gripping her shoulders so tightly that she yelped in pain.
"Master, please!" Babette cried on the verge of tears, desperately searching for any proper yet unyielding way to refuse him. The word "no" did not exist in Vincent's vocabulary; she almost expected him to not even know what it meant. "You do not know what you are saying."
In reply, Vincent could only laugh in amusement; clearly this stupid girl thought she had a say in the matter. Almost pitying her lack of common sense, he roughly took the liberty of claiming his previously denied kiss.
It was at that very moment that Babette felt something snap inside of her. In her mind, he was no longer a prince, nor her master, but a deadly threat. Without hesitation, she called upon all her strength to brutally shove him away from her, but the action only earned her a strong, callous slap that sent her plummeting to the ground. Through a flood of tears, she shrieked in alarm, terrified as Vincent loomed over her and covered her mouth.
"You little slut," he snarled, narrowing his glare ominously upon her and tightening his hold. "It is you who do not know what you are saying. I am the master of this castle; you live to serve me and obey my demands. You will do as I say; that is my order."
Struggling, Babette closed her eyes tightly, but it did not help. For what seemed like an eternity, she felt him reaching for the ties of her dress…but stopped when his attempts suddenly ceased. Feeling someone try to help her stand instead, she was relieved to see Mrs. Potts there with her, holding her comfortingly as a mother would to a child who had just awoken after a horrific nightmare. Bawling, Babette hid her face in the older woman's shoulder.
But fear once again rose as she heard Vincent screaming angrily, "What the hell do you think you are doing! How dare you!"
When Babette dared to look, she watched nervously as she saw Lumière literally dragging a thrashing Vincent out of the room. Continuing to let her tears flow, she prayed there would still be a happy ending in sight after what she knew was to come.
ooo
Only when he succeeded in bringing Vincent into another room did Lumière release him. While he turned to close the door, the prince continued his protests.
"You had no right to do that!" he shouted. "Where could you possibly find such insolent nerve to do what you did?"
Lumière turned to face him, inwardly beating himself for what he was about to say, but suppressing that fear from rearing its head.
"Forgive me, master, but I must ask you the same question," he answered calmly.
Vincent stared at him in disbelief. "What…did you say?"
"I ask you the exact same question," Lumière repeated. "What were you thinking?"
Vincent could not help but laugh slightly; this had to be a jest. "Are you truly so moronically stupid? I can do what I please with a woman."
"No, you can not."
The prince's eyes began to narrow once again, his heated laughter cooling very quickly. "Excuse me? I very well can!"
"No, you can not!" Lumière shouted. That was the final straw. "She is a living, breathing human being; a servant or not, you can not treat her like a common…thing!"
Vincent glared dangerously at him, his expression provoking Lumière into digging a deeper grave as he made his way towards him.
"You impudent little imbecile, you truly forget who you are speaking to, haven't you?" he asked. "This would not matter so much if she was not your precious whore now, would it?"
Lumière sighed in exasperation. "First of all, when talking about a lady, you show her respect. Secondly, yes, I love her, but this is not about that! Do you realize the danger you put her in?" He paused to take a deep breath and choose his words wisely. "What you were about to do…plainly and simply, it was wrong. Love is not a game!"
"I do not have time for your useless rambling," Vincent snarled, averting his eyes. "Surely some time in the dungeons would put a stop to this nonsense."
"Please, master, hear me out," Lumière pleaded. "There is more to what you were about to do then you know, too many risks involved. You truly were about to hurt her!"
"She must obey me!"
"And for that, you would risk causing her harm?" Lumière asked, softening his tone, attempting to make Vincent do the same by example. "Master, please, think about it. What you were about to do is supposed to be the most incredible thing that occurs between a man and woman; if you were hurting her, and she did not want it, how could it be as such? Servant and master aside, what happened was wrong; even you must know that."
Vincent looked at him again, begrudgingly. "Even…even if it was, that does not excuse how either of you have treated me. She is not worth this much trouble." Face to face with his servant, he stated, "Forget about any of your afternoons off for the next few weeks; I assure you, there will be something for you to do for both of you. This will teach you both to defy me."
Lumière released a slight sigh of relief; that was a punishment nonetheless, but it was certainly much better than anything he had feared. "So be it, master."
Vincent did not reply, however, as he stormed his way back to the West Wing. Lumière on the other hand returned to the sitting room. No sooner than he made his presence known, however, than Babette looked up and ran into his willing arms. As Mrs. Potts left the room, he mouthed a heartfelt "Merci" for her help, and she smiled in return.
For a long while, all Lumière could do was tenderly caress his lover soothingly, desperately trying to calm her down. When the sobs began to subside, he spoke softly.
"Shh," he whispered. "It is over now; he will not hurt you anymore."
"You can not promise that, so do not even try," Babette replied, her voice still choked with emotion.
Lumière kissed her forehead as he gathered her in his arms, carrying her to her room. "Trust me, he will not."
Babette rested her head on his shoulder, wearily. "Promise me instead that you did not do anything rash; promise me you will be here in the morning."
When they arrived at her room, Lumière tucked her under the covers affectionately, before resting on the bed behind her. Driven by the need to protect her, he gently enveloped her in his embrace.
"Do not worry, I am not going anywhere and neither are you."
Babette snuggled close to him, feeling more safe in his arms rather than under the blankets. "Don't ever leave me…"
"Never, mon amour; we will never be apart, I swear it."
"Je t'aime, Lumière," Babette murmured, before slipping into slumber.
Lumière kissed her cheek before following her.
"Je t'adore, ma chérie…"