Chapter 5: Homme

Belle was awoken by a soft touch on her face. She shivered slightly, a chill racing up and down her spine. Groggily she pried her eyes open and found herself gazing into smooth brown face.

Slowly, she sat up and found that the face belonged to a handsome brown eyed youth who only looked to be a few years older than she. He wore clothing unlike any that Belle had ever seen- somewhat coarse material, woven with colors of yellow, black and green, making a long cloth that draped over his arms and around his body gracefully. It was vibrant and had a straightforwardness that was lacking in the clothes that she was used to seeing.

For a moment, she was confused, not knowing why he was there. Then she saw the blue hangings around her bed and remembered all that had happened. After all the encounters she had experienced, the sight of this man did not frighten her, and, in fact, pleased her. She had not known how quickly she had come to crave human company.

"Who are you?" She asked.

The young man's smile was kind but mysterious. Instead of answering, he extended one of his long dark hands to her. Unsure of what to do, she put her hand into his, noting how pale hers seemed in comparison. At once, his hand trapped it, and his smile widened. He tugged her arm lightly, pulling her out of bed. She began to stand up, but her ankle instantly shot pain up her leg, and she scowled at it.

As though he already knew what had cause her to hesitate, or perhaps just being especially pensive, the man pushed her back on the bed in a sitting position. He pulled her skirt up unashamedly, exposing all of her leg below the knee. Deftly, he took her shoe off, and Belle had to look away, blushing as he began to run his hands along her ankle and leg. He kneaded the skin gently and moved her ankle around, careful not to hurt her. She cried out when a spark went through her ankle where he massaged it. She pulled her foot away.

"What did you do?" She cried anxiously. She examined her ankle and found that it seemed to be in good condition once more. She flexed it experimentally.

"What did you do?" she asked again, this time in an awed tone. The man said nothing, and instead pulled her foot back. He slipped the shoe on and smoothed her skirt back in place. Belle couldn't help a slight laugh.

"You aren't going to speak to me at all, are you?" she asked. The man stared back, an amused look flickering in his eyes.

"Well could you signal to me?" she asked playfully. The man hesitated, then shrugged. Belle stood up and cast him a glance from the corner of her eye.

"Could you at least tell me why you woke me? I was only just starting to have a lovely dream…"

The man ignored her question completely, and instead took her hand once more. It was warm and firm. He pulled her out of the room and led her fluidly and expertly down the marble passages, eventually bringing her to the Great Hall. Belle had been put out a moment before because he would not answer her, but she promptly forgot it looking at the hall.

It had been grand before- but now it was truly extraordinary. The window that had allowed the artificial light to shine through now showed darkness, and the room was lit by a giant glass chandelier that she had not even known was there. It brought a rosy glow that seemed to light even the corners of the room. Sitting at the tables were many men and women, even some children. They all had dark skin and were dressed in colorful garb like the man standing next to her. They chatted loudly and animatedly, and seemed to observe none of the French protocol. On the floor kneeled several small boys and girls playing a game with some pebbles.

"I did not know there were so many people living here." she breathed. "I do not suppose you would tell me how you and the lions are able to stay in the same castle."

His silence affirmed her statement. She became aware of her hand in his and blushed, but he took no notice, instead pulling her into the hall.

As soon as the people in the room became aware of their presence, they rose from their seats. Even the children on the ground stumbled over one another trying to get off the floor. Belle felt acutely aware at how silence washed over all of them, and shifted from foot to foot as their gazes bore through her. The man at her side was totally unaffected.

He moved forward to a seat near the center of the table directly across from them, and she tried to stay as close as possible. When they reached it, the man snapped his fingers and almost instantly another chair was brought to him by a dark, unusually short man. He said, almost indiscernibly within his heavy accent, "Sit down, my lady." He was about to pull the chair out for her when the taller man shooed him away. He then did it himself. Belle raised an eyebrow, not seeing why he needed a man to get the chair but could not stand letting him pull it out. Nonetheless, she smiled and said thank you, sitting down. The man nodded and sat next to her.

At once, things resumed to the way they had been before they entered the room. The only difference was the voices; they seemed raised louder than was necessary, adding a definite din to the room.

Some boys, all of them about ten or eleven and swathed in dull brown cloth, brought platters of food before them. Belle's stomach grumbled at the sight of the breads, meats, and pies stacked before them. These meals were undoubtedly French; they reminded her of the food Aurelie always attempted to make. At this reminder, she slowly pulled back her hand, which had been poised to take some of it, and swallowed at the lump that she had forgotten was growing in her throat. The man watched her for a moment, then took her plate and, silently, he heaped food upon it. She didn't bother to shoo him away. Rather, she tried to block the other sinking feeling that everybody in the hall was staring at them.

He placed the loaded plate back in its place and she picked at it, her appetite gone. She felt sick watching the man at her other side wolfing down his food. Her eyes began drooping, in spite of the nap she had taken earlier.

She was awoken once more by the man (who she'd begun calling her friend in her mind). He gestured to a slightly frazzled looking woman not far away who was holding a child, indicating that he needed to talk to her. Belle nodded, and he disappeared.

Not a minute had passed when her friend's seat was filled with a very pretty, slim girl who looked similar in age and appearance to him. Her long hair was in small plaits that were then wrapped at a knot near the nape of her neck, and she wore vibrant red robes. She glared fiercely at Belle.

"I do not know what you have done." she said quietly, "I do not know why you are here. But I will tell you that, unlike others in this castle, what I say I mean, during the day and at night."

She checked over her shoulder, making sure the young man had not returned.

"And just so that you might know what I feel- well, I would not mind if you ran away. It can be arranged quite easily."

Belle stared, open mouthed. The voice sounded familiar, but she couldn't quite place it.

"What are you talking-" she began, but the girl had already left, almost knocking the chair over. She regarded the chair absently, wracking her brain for that voice. It had the accent of all the people in the castle…but the only female voices she'd heard had been the lions…and she couldn't-

A squeeze on her shoulder jerked her out of her reverie. She smiled weakly at her friend, who looked rather worn. "Did you solve that woman's problem?"

He nodded, and sank into the chair next to her again.

"I don't see how you could." she mused, "As you don't speak. Unless, of course," she added, giving him a sidelong glance, "it is only me who you do not speak to!"

She meant it jokingly, but his solemn countenance gave him away.

"So it is just me you do not speak to." Belle said, feeling like he'd dealt her a blow. Perhaps it was just petty, or a culmination of all that had happened, but she felt that she was being left out of something.

"I don't understand why you do not- I mean to say-" she made an unintelligible sound and let down her hair, which was coming out of its bun. "I don't understand anything that's going on here. And I am tired. And I want to go home. That is all." Deftly, she tied her hair back up, and then stood.

"You've been very kind." she said, "and I appreciate it. But I really do not know or understand any of this." She felt guilty seeing the bewildered look on his face. "Please tell all the lions- especially Misrak- that I say thank you."

At this, she strode hurriedly from the room, feeling foolish and hotheaded. She really was getting tired of running, but Alitash had said that she wouldn't mind if she-

Alitash.

She stopped abruptly. "Alitash?" she whispered under her breath. That name had come to mind when she thought of the girl who had said those confusing things to her. Belle put a hand to her head. The voice had been Alitash's- that was how she had recognized it! How could it be? The thought of her being human and lion was strange, perhaps the strangest thing of all. But then, it would explain how they could talk…

"Belle." someone said. It was almost a perfect French accent, and she turned around in shock, expecting to see a real Frenchman, one of the white ones that she knew. Instead, she found herself looking at a dark man with a face like leather. He wore shimmering gold robes, and was not unlike the sun in his splendor.

"Please, calm down." he said in a pacifying tone. "I'm sure your anger is understandable, but if we just go to discuss it-"

"No." she interrupted, not knowing who he was and not caring, "No, I am not staying here. I came to save my father, because he promised the first thing he saw to that lion. I came, and now I am leaving. There are secrets here, and I do not want to understand them. I want to go home."

The man's kindly face hardened, though a smile stayed politely fixed on his expression.

"You will discuss this with my son and I." he replied, "Your father gave you to me, not as a visitor, but as a possession. He is still bound, and you are still bound, by his word."

She looked at him calculatingly for a moment, and then said, carefully,

"Are you Samson?"

The man's fixed smile grew wider.

"Indeed. Did my son tell you our secret?"

"It was his sister that gave it away."

"Ah, yes. I did not think he would tell you. My son has always been persuaded by my word."

"You are disgusting."

"Whether that is true or not, you belong to me. I must insist that you come now, or I'll be forced to take it as your father breaking his promise. I have more hold over nature than you might think, and your father is not out of my grasp, whatever you are he might think."

Belle's face heated with anger, but she complied, as she could tell Samson knew she would. When she reentered the hall with him, she could see many of the people had left. Her friend ran up to them and whispered seriously into Samson's ear. Samson waved him off.

"It is alright, Misrak. She knows."

Belle slowly raised her gaze, which had been fixed on the ground, to meet Misrak's, and she could see he looked ashamed. She, however, felt no pity for him.

"I am saddened to know that the one who I thought was a friend only wished to serve his cruel master." she said stiffly. Samson clucked at her.

"You are taking this much too hard, my dear. You have barely known my son a day."

She knew he was right, but refused to say so.

"I will not explain my mind to you, and my father made no promise to reverse that." She looked back at Misrak.

"I will instead address you, however briefly." She said, not letting her imperial tone surprise her as she could see it was surprising him. "I do not feel there is any need to discuss my staying here. I consider myself a prisoner."

"You are making her stay?" Misrak said, "You said that she would be free to choose after she knew about-"

"Do not argue with me. I have changed my mind." Misrak cast his eyes downwards. Belle was appalled. Samson put a hand on her back and shoved her forward, almost making her and his son topple to the ground.

"Take her to her room."

The golden clad figure disappeared.

"You have made him angry." Misrak said. Belle lifted her chin at him.

"I do not care."

"There is no point in wailing about it. You should accept your fate, as we all have. I am only my true form at night, and I do not fight it."

"I did not imagine you were so weak."

He did not say anything. Taking her arm gently, he guided her to her room. When they got there, he kissed her hand and fled.

She walked dully into the room, and observed herself in the looking glass. No wonder people had stared. She was still covered in dirt from her journey to the castle. She scanned the room with her eyes and staggered to reach a washbasin sitting on a small table against the opposite wall. After having scrubbed her face quite thoroughly and dried it with a towel she found in the wardrobe, Belle sank back on the bed.

She soon found that her face was wet once more, and she put her head in her hands, allowing the tears to flow freely.

Author's note: Thank you so much to everyone who has read and reviewed! I love you all so much-hugs you-