Chapter 7: Histoire

"We have not always been a cursed people." Misrak said, "There was a time, about twenty years ago, when life was quite different for us. I do not mean me," he added hastily, "just- for the group of- I mean-I do not know exactly how to say-"

"Yes," Belle said quickly, "I understand."

Misrak nodded.

"We lived in a land far away from here. A land filled with desert and sun, where the rare patch of grass is always dry. Twenty five years ago, my father became the king, and because of tradition, he was expected to take a queen.

"About the same time, by some mystery, a small group of foreign people entered our land. Then, my father was not so cold as he is now; he accepted them as a gracious king. They were stranger than any of the groups from foreign tribes my people had ever seen. Their skins were pale and they wore clothes that were frivolous and unnecessary. Such is the fashion still, in their land, France. Some of them could make it in our climate, and some could not.

"Among the people who had come, one woman in particular who stood out for my father was a woman named Marie. She seemed untouched by the land he was used to, her light skin and yellow hair intriguing, and he wished to find out more about her. Because he did not understand the language she spoke, the people of her group taught him. As he learned, he fell in love with her and announced that he would marry her. Though she did not know him well, she consented, thinking him to be kind.

"After their marriage, Father declared that our people would only speak French. As the other Frenchmen had either died or left, my parents were the only people there to teach. Though my people thought it unnecessary, the threat of death was placed upon them, showing my father's true nature.

"This foreign woman soon bore to my father my sister, Alitash. My mother was glad, but my father was angered by her dark skin and hair. He did not understand how her features were not like those of her mother. I think, by this time, Father envied those features.

"Then she bore me, another child with dark features. He was infuriated, frightening my mother with his unparalleled rage. An argument ensued in which, by some mistake which I have never heard the details of, Father found out the reason that my mother was exiled. She was a witch."

Belle gasped.

"A witch?"

Misrak glanced at her sharply.

"She did nothing to hurt anyone."

Belle pursed her lips and said nothing more. Misrak regarded her warily.

"Would you like me to continue?"

"…A witch?"

"Do not tell me you harbor a prejudice against those who do magic."

"It is…it is not natural."

Misrak laughed.

"I am surprised that you sound so similar to all of those people who you complained talk too often of nature."

Belle wrung her hands.

"I just- I cannot-"

"You contradict yourself, Belle."

She looked at him hard for a long moment. Then she let out a breath she did not know she had been holding.

"Continue."

Misrak grinned.

"Are you sure?"

Belle glared.

"That, or you can leave my room."

"The one that I gave you. Would you prefer that I give you the room my father suggested?"

"I do not even want to know which room that was. I am sorry. Please continue."

His grin remained as he continued to tell the story.

"When he found that out, my father reacted in the same way as you did." The smile faded from his face. "Though in our land we had often seen magic in the past, my father was what would be called a…" he concentrated for a minute, "a fanatic. He ordered that my mother be killed, all love for her forgotten."

Belle gasped.

"But she was his wife!"

"Not in his mind. The way he thought, it was as though she became unfaithful when she bore him children with the features he hated. So the next day, my mother was killed. I was five days old."

Belle touched his arm softly.

"I am- I am sorry."

"It is worse for Alitash. She was four, and she can remember seeing them club her to death."

Belle made sure to look at anything but him.

"What does this have to do with a curse?" she asked, looking determinedly at a bit of dust on her sleeve.

"I was almost there. When my mother was to be killed, seeing the heartlessness of those who would execute her, she grew angry. As many witches tend to do, she exacted revenge. She cast a spell upon the whole tribe- that we would be in a form in which none would accept us, not our land or our people. She said that only at night would we have that satisfaction of knowing what we might have been."

"That is horrible."

"What they did was horrible."

"She did it to her children too!"

"If we did not experience it, then others would think us abnormal. They might kill us as they did her."

Belle thought about this.

"Is it permanent?"

"She gave no indication. But her curse did come true- The sun, that which is prevalent throughout our homeland, may not touch our bodies, or we take a new form, one in which we never see our loved ones again. I know," he continued, seeing how Belle opened her mouth, "because I have heard tales. I have seen it. And the people of the other tribes, they rejected us as my mother said they would. So we were forced into hiding, into the darkest caves that we could venture to find. Even then, for some reason, Father wished us to continue speaking French. We were left to teach ourselves, which is why we all have rather horrible accents

"A few years ago, when I was barely grown, a man came to us from that group that my mother had traveled in. He was her brother, and though he was saddened to hear of his sister's murder, he took pity upon us. He told us of a place in his far off land of France where he thought we might stay. A place where the sun would not touch us and nobody would see us. That is how we came to be at the Chateau."

Belle let out an exclamation of understanding as a realization dawned on her.

"That is why you have no real light here!"

Misrak's smile returned.

"Yes. Her brother, my uncle, cast a spell on this place for the light to function as it does."

"Where does it come from?"

"That I do not know. He made this castle for us as simple as possible with his magic, and though I often try I do not understand it. What is most amazing to me is how he could forgive our people after all that they did to his sister. It is a virtue, forgiveness. One that Alitash has yet to learn."

"What do you mean?"

He sighed.

"We came to this place three years ago. At that time, Alitash and her husband had a son, Yeshi. He was still young and foolish, and one of the days we were resting in the dark before resuming our journey that night, he broke away from the group. In the dark of the wood we hid in, he found a white hunter. He thought it good sport to attack him, but the hunter drew his rifle and killed him. Alitash saw him do it, but she was powerless to help him. Since then, her hatred for those with pale skin has been part of her."

Belle made a sound that was a mixture of both pity and annoyance.

"Does she not realize that what she is doing is what your father did to your mother?"

Misrak shook his head sadly.

"She does not seem to think much of anything other than hatred. That is why she hates you."

Belle didn't know what to say.

"How can I compete with a hatred that does not even have anything to do with me?" She asked finally. "It is not fair!"

Misrak got up to leave.

"There is no more to the story." he said, "I shall go now."

"Why?" Her tone was reluctant, and she cursed herself as she saw that he realized this.

"Already you grow so attached?"

"No." Belle said harshly. She winced at her voice.

"You do not understand." Misrak said. "I shall soon transform back into a man. You do not want to see."

"Why?" she asked again.

"Because- ah." He smiled. "Look."

Belle let out a squeal as a cart came whizzing into the room, pushed by no one. Until the last second, it looked like it was going to hit them and then it stopped, seeming to sense their presence. Belle inched slowly towards it, peering at what was resting on the top.

There was a silver tea tray upon which was a patterned china tea set. From the patterned teapot a thin wisp of smoke curled lazily upward, and on a plate there were stacked tarts with different colored fillings. At the sight of it, her stomach growled.

"Take some." Misrak laughed. She hesitated, and then complied. She let out a contented sigh as the taste of blueberry filled her mouth, and she remembered that she had not eaten at supper the night before. She ate another tart, this one cherry, and then felt thirsty. She took tea leaves from a small bowl and put them in a cup, then poured the water from the teapot.

As she did so, the teapot let out a high pitched toot, and though it made her jump, she could tell that it was thanking her for relieving it. She put it back down and giggled nervously. After she added a sugar cube to the tea and stirred it, she asked,

"How does it work, Misrak?"

"Give me a tart." was all Misrak said.

"Ugh." Belle said, wrinkling her nose at his rudeness. She picked up a tart with a suspicious looking yellow filling and tossed it into his waiting mouth.

His face puckered.

"Disgusting. I don't know why he insists on making them."

"Who?"

"The cook, Safiya."

Belle picked up the teapot again. When she tried to look at its underbelly, it jumped out of her hands and back onto the tray. On its own, the cart propelled itself backwards to where she couldn't reach it. She laughed again. It reminded her of a small, frightened animal. The sound of her laughter made the cart slowly creep back, ready to dart away again.

"It is strange," Belle commented, "but I almost feel as though I should be petting it."

"You should." He replied, "It will hold still if you do."

She petted the teapot hesitantly.

"I feel so silly." she murmured. But it worked, and in a moment, she had it grasped in her hands once more.

"Clamp down the top."

Belle saw at once what he meant. The top of the teapot had silver clamps that could easily be closed by looping silver rings around flaps and then closing the flaps.

"Now," he said after she closed it, cocking his head to search the underside, "Do you have something to put in the spout?"

"Er- Yes." she said, spotting a tea towel. She carefully stuffed it into the spout, and as she did so, it began to wriggle in her hands.

"Misrak?" she asked uncertainly. Misrak reached out his paw and probed something on the bottom with a sharp claw. The teapot froze at once, and he straightened.

"Alright," he said, "now you can turn it over."

She flipped it over and felt her mouth drop open. There were minute jewels and a thin metal wire connecting them in a precise order. There were several grooves in the actual teapot, one in which Belle guessed that Misrak had stuck his claw.

"It's run by magic," Misrak remarked, "just like many other things in this castle." He nodded his head toward the jewels.

"But I've found that even magic has mechanics."

"So…What is the point of giving a teapot life?"

"Efficiency, I think." He replied. "I'm not quite sure- it was here when we arrived. But I think it also came from the belief that even housekeeping things deserve life."

"It's wonderful." she breathed. " Look at it! It is so intricate.."

"And to think you thought magic unnatural."

"If all things unnatural are so wonderful, then I am surely spellbound and do not mind it."

She heard Misrak's breath catch in his throat. She looked up at him, and saw that he was hunched over, his limbs contorting in odd angles. He jerked helplessly, screaming, and his body slowly mutated into one of a human. She brought a hand to her mouth and watched, horrified. As he quieted and began to lay still, Belle quickly looked away and covered her eyes. She felt her cheeks reddening.

"Oh dear…just let me-well, I mean- I can't you know, I might step on you-"she found herself babbling, "and- well- Misrak- could you not just-"

"Mmm?" he moaned weakly.

"Could you put something on?"

"What?"

"You don't- you haven't got any-" She couldn't bring herself to say it, so she waved the teapot at him vaguely. She could hear him laughing as he realized what she was talking about.

"It is not funny." she said, feeling quite perplexed, "I do not want to see- just-"

"What would you have me put on?" Misrak asked, sounding much more awake then he had a moment before, "a dress?"

"Anything!" she cried, "Put on a dress, tie something around you, just cover yourself!"

After a minute, Misrak's laughter subsided enough for him to say,

"Alright, I've covered myself."

Belle peeked through her fingers and saw that he had sloppily tied a nightgown around his waist. She assumed it had come from one of the drawers in the wardrobe. Though it was messily done, he seemed quite proud of his handiwork, and Belle certainly wasn't going to offer to fix it. She put the teapot back down on the cart and it zoomed off, so fast that it almost seemed glad to get away.

"I just want you to know, Misrak," she said gravely, "I do not ever want that back."

"I was not planning on giving it back anyway."

She gave him a wary look, and they both found themselves laughing. Belle decided then that she could no longer be angry at him, and was glad to have an ally once more.

Misrak's smile froze suddenly. He slowly turned around, and Belle followed his gaze.

There, standing in the door, was Alitash, looking murderous.

Thank you so much for your reviews, my darling readers! Thank you for expressing your interest and telling me what you like about the story (and even requesting that I not leave the chapter at a cliffhanger, to which I can only say haha, I cannot resist!). And now, I have a request for you:

One of my dreams, like a lot of people on is to someday be on a publishable level. I know that that day has not yet come, and that I have much work still to do, but what I really need is some feedback that I can use to improve. Tell me what you think I should add or take out, what parts make the story good or bad. Constructive criticism and practice are the only ways to get better!