Chapter 14: Mort

The next day, Belle left her room alone, determined to explore the chateau. It was something that, having endeavored only to escape before, she had never thought about, but now filled her with eager anticipation. With all the mysteries surrounding the castle, she knew that there would be fascinating things to discover, and she was keen to discover what they were. Another motivation to her actions, though she would never admit it, was to get her mind off of Misrak. The way he had treated her was the way he had seen boys in the village treat her beautiful sisters on numerous occasions, and she was very distrustful of having that sort of behavior directed at her. She had allowed herself to be carried away last night, but she knew now that she could not continue.

'After all,' she told herself firmly, 'how in the world would you be able to marry a lion?'. This caused her to blush to herself, because marriage was not something she should even have crossed her mind. Quickening her step, she forced herself to become distracted by the high, vaulted ceilings and intricate marble pillars.

Her bedchamber, the blue room, was the last door down a long narrow corridor, which was quite plain and had a low ceiling. The corridor was otherwise devoid of doors, and while she had been thinking she had emerged back out into the open area. Cautiously, she began to walk through to find other doors against the same long stretch of wall, checking over her shoulder frequently and hoping that she wouldn't become hopelessly lost.

She soon came upon more long corridors, each with exactly one room at the end like hers had been. After looking around and settling her mind that there was nobody around to scold her for it, she curiously headed down each one. There was nothing revelatory about the rooms. Each had a small, colored jewel on the door as hers did, and was set up in the same fashion except in the color of the stone on the door, and there were no signs that anyone was living in them.

"So they have colored rooms." she said, "So far, I have only proven that this chateau has some frivolity."

She moved on, down the large marble hall, taking time to admire the many portraits lining the walls. Upon closer observation, she realized that the people in them had an almost archaic look about them, and she knew from the little that she had gathered of history that, by their way of dress, they had lived too long ago for the style of painting used to depict them. She eventually came to the conclusion that she assigned to everything in the chateau that she did not understand- magic. It was something to discuss with Misrak the next time she saw him, at any rate. Her stomach began to flip-flop horribly at the thought of seeing Misrak again, and she could tell that he, like her family, would be a person she could not allow herself to think about if she wished to retain her sanity.

She soon came upon another door, this one curved to blend in with a round hollow of wall where the corner made of two meeting walls would ordinarily be. She tried the handle, but it wouldn't open. She frowned and tugged harder, but it would not budge, and Belle quickly abandoned it, afraid she would break it. She turned right and continued through the hall, which, though covered with numerous portraits, contained no doors. She began to take notice when the people in them began to look quite recent, and stopped altogether when she saw in the last portrait a man she recognized- Samson. She took a step closer and could see at once that, whenever this portrait was intended to portray him, he was much younger, and seemed happier, though something about his expression remained aloof. Looking at it, she could see that he looked similar to Misrak. She shook her head. Thoughts of him just kept coming!

Taking another turn, she finally found herself going down a hall with doors. She headed for the first one she saw, to her left. It, too, was locked. Her face fell. Was everything in this castle locked? Preparing herself for disappointment, she tried the handle on another door to the right. Almost effortlessly, she opened the door, and, congratulating herself, she slipped in.

It was larger than her bedchamber and all the other colored rooms by at least twice. She felt her eyes widen reverentially. This bedroom was the first to strike her with the full elegance of royalty. It was papered with rich gilt, and the large four poster bed had sage green hangings. There were several tapestries on the wall, all depicting such things as hunts and epic heroes, and on the ceiling was an exquisite mural depicting angels and saints. There was wooden furniture placed tastefully throughout. It was so well done, in fact, that she wondered at it. Who could have designed it? Surely, none of the lions had done it- it was clear that whoever had designed the room had had a clear idea of what the high end of French society was like.

Approaching for a closer look, she could see that the room was now being used. The bed was unmade, and several books were open and scattered on the floor near it, as though someone had been reading and had knocked them down while they were sleeping. Belle bent down and looked at one of the titles.

"The Origins of Prophecie?" she read aloud. She looked at another- "Ye Olde Prophecies?"

"Indeed." came a voice from the corner, "I find it all fascinating."

Belle jumped, though she knew exactly who it was. Misrak was curled up in the corner, his mane hanging in his eyes and looking as though she'd just awakened him from sleep. Her hands went cold and clammy at the sight of him.

"Oh, hello Misrak." she squeaked, "I was simply- I was looking around, and your door was unlocked, so I…" she trailed off; it was clear to him what she'd done. He tossed his mane and laid back down.

"Very well," he said, "you are free to continue." he put his head down and closed his eyes, and Belle clasped her cold hands uncomfortably. She couldn't just be in here now, knowing that he might be aware of her every move, with everything so unsure.

"Misrak, are you still awake?" she hoped he was, and yet dreaded it.

"Hm?"

"I do not want to say much, for that would be imprudent-"

"Ma chere, I believe you have already said enough to prove you do not care about prudence."

She looked up at him sharply, but his eyes were still closed, and he didn't seem to be reproving her.

"If that is what you expect, I suppose I should not disappoint." she said stiffly, "What, exactly, is happening between us?"

Misrak's eyes opened at once, and his large eyes focused on her face.

"What do you suppose?" he asked.

"Would you like to hear what I have deduced of it?"

"Would I have asked if I didn't?"

Belle made a noise of frustration.

"Everything is confusing as it is- must you continue to carry on in questions?"

"Are you listening to your own self?"

Belle opened her mouth then closed it, covering her eyes with her hands. The games made her feel ill- she wanted an answer, and she was afraid to ask for it.

"I shall tell you what I feel." she said in a strained voice, "It is this: there is something, though it is surely not enough to have it's own definitive state. It is not love, for it is much to soon for that-" Misrak cocked his head curiously at hearing this, "-but it is not nothing. It may be something silly, strung together of many smaller emotions that make it seem like it could be love, but really, I know I am afraid to do a thing until it is clearer, whether it is love or- or not." She turned red as she watched Misrak and wiped her hands on her dress. She had said that she'd tell him what she had deduced, but her complete honesty made her uncomfortable. She was glad to see that Misrak seemed to be thinking over his words carefully.

"I find it surprising that you tell me this now."

Belle frowned.

"Why?"

"Because I am a lion right now. Is it not odd to you that you are confessing that you may be in love with a lion?"

Belle crossed her arms.

"Are you saying that you think something completely different? If so, please, enlighten me."

"I said nothing of the sort. You know what I meant by it."

Belle thought it over, then shrugged. She had not even considered it.

"It is not so odd." she said, "because you are not really a lion. I see you every night."

She was confused when he nodded oddly, as though what she had said had great importance.

"It is nothing noble of me." she continued, earnestly, "It is just common sense."

He didn't seem to hear her, and she became frustrated.

"Forget all that has been said." she said, "I- goodbye." Abruptly, she left the room and put her hands to her cheeks, which were burning.

"I think I have done enough exploring for today." she said, and hurried back to her bedchamber.

Misrak shook his head in disbelief after Belle left. Though she did not know of the prophecy, she was making the whole situation still more difficult in her mind. Even so, she had said she might be in love with him in spite of his being a lion. Perhaps she was actually sorting things out more than he himself was.

"Perhaps I should tell her." he said, rolling on his back. There were so many things to mull over as of late- the prophecies his mother had made were turning his life upside-down, and it almost made him long for the old days of hopeless resignation. Almost.

"Misrak."

Quickly, Misrak rolled back on his stomach and saw that his father had entered, looking annoyed.

"Yes, Father?" Misrak asked through gritted teeth. The last time Misrak had spoken to him, Samson had told him that Belle had left the Chateau of his own accord. Knowing the truth, he could barely look at him.

"My son, I am sorry." Samson said, flicking his mane in a motion of majestic nonchalance, "I know that you now know the truth."

"Yes, I do. From you, though, I am barely surprised." Misrak's anger made him bold, and Samson closed his eyes, as though holding words back. When he opened them, however, they were filled with calm.

"I can hardly explain the motivation behind my actions." Samson said, his tone meant to placate but only angering Misrak further, "I do not suppose that there is any way I could request forgiveness?"

"You do not want forgiveness." Misrak spat, "You only want to control us all. I have begun to think that you delight in our misery."

"Have you?" Samson asked, the calm in his eyes wavering, "Well, that would make you similar to your sister, then."

"In spite of her shortcomings when it comes to forgiveness, my sister is most intelligent."

"Indeed."

Misrak closed his eyes and lowered his head, hoping that this would hint to Samson to leave him. Life was becoming too complex, and sleep, for a while, would alleviate some of these worries. What he did not expect, however, was Samson's surprisingly strong body pinning him to the ground. Misrak's eyes flew open, and he saw Samson's face over his own, contorted with hate.

"I have grown tired of enduring your disrespect, my son." Samson said, cool in spite of how his claws were inching towards Misrak's throat, digging painfully and purposefully into his skin as he did so, "You and Alitash are worthless, just like your mother."

"If we are worthless," Misrak choked out, "then it would be from our father that we inherited it."

Samson let out a deep, echoing roar and brought his paws firmly over Misrak's throat. That and his weight on his chest and stomach made it impossible for Misrak to breath. His last thoughts, ironically, were how similar this was to a scenario not long ago when Alitash had done nearly the same thing to Belle, and regret for his actions, or lack thereof, pounded his brain just as quickly as darkness did. With his last glimpses of consciousness, Misrak swept his paws at his father, wishing that it could make up for his past weakness.

Belle heard a loud roar as she turned a corner. It came from behind her, and she whirled around.

"Misrak?" she murmured uncertainly, and, her forehead crinkling in concern, she hurried back to his room.

When Misrak awoke, he shook his head drowsily, trying to remember what had happened.

"Wha-" Memories quickly returned to him and he stood up. He was still a lion, so he could not have been unconscious for long. Confusion filled him at being awake, for he was certain that his father's actions had been intended to kill him. He looked around until his eyes landed on the ground next to him, and he froze. There lay Samson in a pool of his own blood, perfectly still and undoubtedly dead.

Misrak began to breath heavily. Was it possible that his last efforts at freeing himself had been so successful? Then he looked away, and saw Belle standing in the doorway. Her expression was one of pure disbelief and terror, the same look he knew would be mirrored on his own face had he been in his human form.

Was it possible that she had killed him?

Finally, the next chapter is up! Sorry it took so long- writing it wasextremely frustrating. So Samson is dead- yet another layer of mystery! I tried to give a clear idea of the chateau, and I hope I did at least some justice to the gorgeous pictures of French chateaus that I used for inspiration. :D

Thank you for your wonderful reviews! You're all so fantastic.More specifically, thank you to: ash vault rose garden, Narev (Wow, talk about flattery! That review must have made my week, I swear. Thank you so much!), Philippa (You're more than welcome to call them M&B! As for saving it from being cliche, I'm glad of that. Cliche is such a frightening thing- I try to avoid it, but I'm glad I have you, my reviewers, to warn me if I'm stepping right in it ;D And as far as Wagaye goes, I can't wait until I'm able to give a deeper explanation of him!), v, and Phillipa of the Phoenix (True, but I suppose how long until that happens depends on whether or not Misrak decides to tell her. After all, he doesn't know where Yeshi is, only that he's alive).