Title: And Juliet Had Her Romeo.
Author : LaFemmeDarla
Pairing : Belle/Beast.
Summary : Romeo wanted Juliet, Juliet wanted Romeo. It's complicated.
Disclaimer : Characters and movie from Disney, not mine. Lou Reed owns Romeo Had Juliette , which inspire this fic after a hundred listenings. Not making any money out of it. Don't sue.
Notes Thanks to Trudi for the beta.
"He dies, doesn't he?" The Beast asks suddenly. "They all die?"
Belle pauses for a moment, halfway through Romeo's fight with Paris, and her eyes meet the Beast's. It never ceases to amaze her how much she can tell just by looking into his eyes.
The power is still there, so dark and vast and so carefully restrained underneath such gentleness. Is this rare combination that she
loves
likes the best about him. But then there's the pain, raw and pulsating; more pain than anyone that young should know. For she somehow knows he can't be more than a few years older than herself. So young and yet so broken.
Sometimes, she wishes she couldn't read him as well as her beloved books.
He speaks again, bringing her back to his questions, away from the dark hallway that is the Beast's mind.
"What's wrong?" he is saying now, possibly thinking he made a mistake by interrupting her. She's quick to reply.
"Nothing's wrong. You'll see." And she smiles at him as she starts reading again. She can't change the ending, but she can make the Beast see it through her eyes. For while the lovers' lives were short and tragic, their love was pure and their time together was pure bliss, more precious than any jewel known to man. And it works. Soon he's smiling too, asking her to read it again. Suddenly she wishes to hear him read aloud, to see the words take shape in his voice.
Despite her first impressions of him, she's almost surprised to discover he can't read. Somehow, it doesn't seen like a big deal. She can help him and he's willing to learn. As they move forward into the story, he proves to be a quick story, faltering over fewer and fewer words as time passes. His reading is darker than Belle's, his voice better suited to highlight the darker passions of the play. Once upon a time, she would have feared seeing a familiar story with such a vision. Now she wishes for time to stand still, so she can spend eternity like this, eyes closed as the Beast's voice, husky and sweet, wraps itself around Belle like a loving caress. She tries to convince herself the room feels warmer now because the servants have just lit a fire; or that if she could see her reflection right now, her cheeks wouldn't a darker pink than that of her dress, her brown eyes almost black and burning with an unknown longing...
Yes, that must be it, she tells herself as the Beast reads the final words and she opens her eyes. And now she faces the fire, burning in the Beast's eyes as they look at each other.
There's a long, ankward moment before he looks away first. When he speaks next, is to invite her for a walk in the garden. As tempting as it sounds - the snow has already melted and Belle can smell freshly cut grass and roses even indoors - she replies she needs some rest, quickly adding how much she's looking forward to dinner. That makes him smile shyly and nod, an almost innocent look concealing the fire.
Belle's still thinking about it as she lies down for a short nap in her bed. So many questions dancing in her head. And she's nto sure she wants to know the answers...
There are no answers in her dreams. Only actions.
Like her hands moving forward, stroking velvet-soft fur. Like the warm breath against her heated flesh, smelling of melted snow, freshly cut grass and roses. This isn't real, Belle tells herself. He's not here with me, he's not about to kiss me and I'm not asking him to come closer because I
need
want him to.
Is the Beast dreaming of this too? Does he go to his dark, lonely room and close his eyes to find himself reaching out for her in his dreams, paws like large human hands cupping her cheek, then tracing every inch of her exposed body?
He probably does. For there is no way outside the realm of dreams that this could happen.
The dream changes. There's a balcony and it's raining and the Beast is hurt, but none of it matters because they're together. Their time together is pure bliss
more precious than any jewel known to man
Until the dream changes again. And the balcony and the rain have not changed. But this time the Beast is dead and she think she must be dying as well, because there's not way she can go on without him.
She wakes up crying and can't remember why, her dreams dark and fuzzy and the warmth replaced with a chill so powerful, not even a hot bath seems able to wash it away. It's only when she remembers the afternoon at the library, the Beast reading to her, that she can gather the strength to get dressed for dinner. Her gown is a delicate mixture of gold, velvet and gauze and for one second, Belle wishes her father could be here, smiling proudly, giving her a sweet compliment and saying - not for the first time - how much Belle looks like her mother. It's something he always says when Belle is uneasy, just one little detail that never fails to bring a smile to her face.
She remembers one second later that her father is not there, for she's the Beast's prisoner. She's dressing up to dine with her jailer...
No, I will not think of it, she tells herself. She's going to look forward to dinner, look forward to see the Beast again. They're
together
friends now. Tonight will be all about enjoying each other's company. And maybe tomorrow she'll be able to deal with all her mixed emotions.
Maybe tomorrow.
FIN