CHAPTER 12: In which the Prince makes his return, to much misfortune.

Muddy, injured, exhausted, the Prince continued up the road in a straight line. It was night, and there were few streetlamps that remained unshattered after the battle and riot. Most of the available light came from inside the inhabited houses. In a momentary glow, he noticed how his wedding ring stood out black around his finger. It gave him a bad feeling.

Battle usually ceased overnight, and the citizens were beginning to emerge for whatever errands had been put off till the dark. Looting seemed to be one such errand, and a popular one.

The Prince kept moving forward across the trashed out streets, until, after what seemed like an age, he was in another part of town that looked familiar to him. His heart sparkled with life — he was on the right path! He would be at Murderella's very soon! He picked up his pace, suddenly feeling light as air.

…

Belle looked down at her hand in Pream's. Strange, she noticed. Her wedding ring, still faithfully on her finger, was no longer black. The tarnish had probably rubbed off in Pream's hand, she figured. Her Beast was gone, but she imagined maybe Pream could stand in his place and provide all those things she missed, the love and the warmth that she absolutely needed to be happy now that she had known it.

She moved her gaze upward to Pream's face. In the moonlight, he looked about as handsome and charming as someone with his degree of facial disfigurement possibly could. He saw her looking at him, and smiled at her. Belle felt warm and fuzzy — a feeling she'd missed for the last few weeks. She couldn't imagine why Murderella and Gargantua were telling her not to be with him.

They passed by some military guards. The uniformed men observed that the pair came from inside Murderella's house, and did not interfere with them. Pream and Belle discovered themselves in what was referred to as The Garden, which was really more of a lawn with a few highly-manicured trees and ornamental plants.

"I have to watch in case the Emperor tries to leave," said Pream. "We can wait here together, like we're a couple passing some time in the garden, and the guards won't be so suspicious."

Belle's heart dropped. "Oh!" she said, dismayed and a bit embarrassed. "I didn't realize we were just pretending for the sake of the guards…"

Pream, in reply, stepped in front of her, so near that their faces almost touched. He still held her hand in his. His hesitation was inquisitive.

Belle stared back at the two brown eyes in front of her, one fake and one real, the colors mismatched. There was a genuine passion in the gaze of the Prim, but not the heartfelt vulnerability she had known from her husband.

Maybe she was rushing things with him? But then, what if something happened — what if Pream were killed tonight, and she would spend forever regretting that she hadn't given him a chance during his short life?

Panicking, and unsure what to say, Belle answered his gaze by kissing him. She was surprised to feel him stiffen defensively when she did. She pulled back, and those same mismatched eyes were before her now with a look of confusion upon them.

Pream made a fist, which he held near to her waist. If she had known the reason why, she would have bowed out immediately.

"Murderella is going to be furious," he murmured, seizing Belle very gently by the waist. It was an affectionate gesture that did nothing to depict the violence going on in his head. He kissed her, and Belle found her back against a topiary.

As she and Pream caressed, she could hear some commotion at the mansion gates. She was turned the wrong way to observe; and Pream's view was blocked by the topiary.

At first Belle wanted to ignore the hubbub at the gate, but, she realized there were life and death matters at hand. She ought to make sure that the Bonaparte's weren't escaping. "Pream?" she muttered, ardor still painted in her tone.

Misunderstanding why she addressed him, Pream rather solidly pressed his body up against hers. Belle's eyes widened as she could feel through his clothes that he had some more body piercings than she had observed.

"Um, Pream — the gate?" she said, trying to clarify.

Pream rather suddenly grabbed her by the neck in a choke-hold. She could feel the insides of her throat touching. She was unable to make a sound or move; but she watched as he twisted his body away from her to look at the goings on at the gate, holding her thus the whole time. His face initially depicted a slight annoyance at having to stop what he was about. Then his look became one of surprise. Then one of skepticism. He looked at Belle doubtfully, then released her. She immediately pulled away from him, gasping for air. He said something, but she didn't hear it. In the horror of that moment she had lost interest in what was happening at the gate, and she was confounded as to what Pream had been intending when he choked her like that. Before she regained her breath to ask what was the meaning of it, Pream was bolting in the direction of the gate.

At the gate, arguing with the guards who were refusing him entry, was a six and a half foot tall strawberry blond who one would not doubt, by his scraggly appearance, had been kept in an oubliette for a fortnight. He was hanging on the bars like a cat on a screen door, and was twice as furious.

"Then you tell Murderella I'm here!" he demanded of the guards, irritated at their refusal to let him enter. "Even if I can't come in, she can come out to see me!"

Annoyed, but not refusing to be helpful on the off chance that this man really was who he said, one of the guards turned and walked swiftly toward the mansion, to announce the visitor. He passed by Pream, who was running to the gate from the garden.

It was ironic that one-eyed Pream had the best eyesight of all the aristocrats. He knew, from a distance, the man at the gate.

"Beast?" called Pream, disbelieving. Clearly this was going to be altering his plans for the evening.

"Pream!" the Prince called, a smile breaking across his face. "Pream, let me in!"

Pream gave orders to the guards to open the gate. On that assurance, the Prince was allowed inside.

The Prince automatically embraced his friend; but Pream wasn't in a condition to happily abide it, and cringed at the touch. Still, he knew there were some bigger matters to be dealt with at the moment, and he tried to stay on track. He pulled his smelling salts from his coat pocket and huffed them with desperation.

"Beast," he said, "we all thought you were dead. Right now the Emp—"

Beast didn't allow Pream to finish. "Where is Belle?" he demanded eagerly.

Pream flushed with embarrassment. Nevertheless he knew where he had left her. "She is this way…" he said, pocketing his salts as he directed his friend to the topiary.

Beast ran as fast as he could to the little garden, but he didn't see Belle. Pream walked up behind him, also surprised by her absence.

"She was here a minute ago," said Pream, genuinely puzzled. "She must have gone back inside. But you should know the Emperor —"

Beast didn't listen to anything after 'inside' and raced straight for the front door.

For her part, Belle had not stayed to see what the commotion at the gate had been. Pream had frightened her with his behavior, and she fled around to the back of the mansion, to where Mantua Gargantua was posted.

Gargantua was found trying to pass her watch at the gate as a mere evening stroll through the garden. She carried a parasol with her, despite that it was night. Belle knew it was really much more than a parasol.

Gargantua saw the Beauty coming. "Beauty? Didn't we say to stay inside?"

Belle felt safer now that she had company. "I should have listened! I came out to see Pream. You were right about him!"

Of course she had been. Gargantua looked Belle over briefly and didn't see any major marks of violence. There was a slight pinkness around her neck that might become a bruise later, but nothing else. It looked like she'd been lucky and got away from him quickly. Gargantua groaned.

"Let it be known, Beauty," peeped Gargantua, "I've known Pream a lot longer than you, and if you make me choose sides on who I'm going to stay friends with, it's absolutely him."

Belle was shocked. "How can you say that?"

"We told you: don't get into a romance with him. He's not evil. He's not stupid. He's just crazy. He can't help that he's crazy; no more than you can."

Belle was appalled at the realization that Mantua Gargantua, who was wearing the skull of her mother who she ate, thought she was crazy.

"But he's a good friend," continued Gargantua, "and you'll want him on your side tonight, if things play out as expected."

Belle was already shaken by what had happened, and now her feelings were a bit hurt at realizing she didn't get more sympathy in this situation. Tears were stinging at her eyes, and she felt terrible both for her poor judgment and the blow to her confidence that the incident had created. She missed her Beast. More than anything, it was him that she wanted.

She would never have that kind of love again, she realized. No one was ever going to love her again.

Belle began to weep. Gargantua, being far from a heartless person, made some attempt to comfort her. "Look, you're just upset because you've made a mistake and rushed into something in the heat of emotion," she said affectionately embracing Belle, her skull bonnet banging the beauty in the chin. "It's really not that bad. You've surely overcome worse. Now, why don't you go back inside, and wait in the quarters like we said? We'll talk more later."

Belle tried to compel a smile for the minuscule Gargantua, but couldn't. Still, she thanked her, and went stiffly and slowly back toward the mansion.

When she opened the mansion's door, she could hear the gunshots, metal blades and battle cries. The inside was in utter chaos, and she had no idea of why.

The reason was less than simple, but it was thus:

Murderella had inserted herself into the meeting with the five Bonapartes, on a pretext of being only a curious and friendly hostess, concerned with patriotic duties to her important visitors. They endured her visit, and it was as she was pouring poisoned tea that an announcement came that one Prince Louis-Charles Capet was at the gate wishing to be allowed inside.

When this name was heard by five men who had all in some capacity been involved in his assassination attempt, they did not hesitate for the door.

The Bonapartes emerged from the chamber just in time to see the hapless Prince entering the mansion, and him to see them. He reacted about as well as one could when faced with someone who had cut your fingers off and thrown you in an oubliette: a sort of horrified outrage, not too over the top.

At this moment, strong-armed Murderella ran up behind young Jerome Bonaparte and got him in a chokehold. She would have snapped his neck, but big brother Joseph Bonaparte immediately wedged himself in to rip back her death grip.

As there were military men posted all over the house, they sprang in an instant to defend the Emperor and his entourage, employing gunfire and bayonets. Meanwhile, spy-boy Gutslasher perceived that espionage was no longer his best utilization. He threw down his notepad and burst out from his hiding spot.

The Prince called Beast rushed up the grand stairway to come at Napoleon. His mission to find Belle would have to wait. The only reason he didn't see Belle when she did at this time enter, not far behind him, was that he was advancing up the steps and pointed the wrong way to observe her.

Belle, for her part, did not recognize the filthy, bearded fellow ahead of her as her husband. Afterall, she had no reason to even expect that her husband was still alive; certainly she did not expect to see him running about the mansion in any condition, much less this.

Throughout these happenings, both Murderella's private guards and the military guards of the Bonapartes were taking their own actions upon the scene. The sounds of flintlock gunfire began to rise. Battle cries were drifting in the air.

On the second floor, Humongous leapt over the balustrade to attack gun-toting guardsmen below. He had a javelin in each hand.

Murderella tried to fight Jerome with her right arm and Joseph with the other, taking a few punches herself but all in all doing quite well at her task. Nevertheless, it was a welcome relief when Gutslasher leapt in and took on Jerome for his own, seizing him by the waist and dashing him against a wall.

Two military guards leapt in the Prince's path to prevent him from reaching his targets. Determined as the guards were, they were both something less than massive enough to hold back The Beast. He cracked one hard enough to knock him over the balustrade. The other guard jumped him from behind. Beast struggled to get the man off his back.

The Corsican Fiend observed the two missing fingers on the Beast's hand. He had cut those off intending to test whether this immortal Achilles had a heel — and so it seemed that he did.

"Lucien, Luigi —" he said, drawing their attention. "See, his fingers are still gone? You know what that means?"

The two assassins saw.

"He doesn't regenerate…" said Luigi. "That means…"

And simultaneously it clicked. They cried together: —

"Cut his head off!"

Obviously if the Capetian couldn't regenerate lost body parts, the best chance of killing him was decapitation — and at worst it would leave him as only a helpless, sentient head that could do no damage and pose no threats. The Bonapartes had their new strategy down!

"We need sabers!" called Napoleon.

The trio of Bonapartes began searching for swords. The Imperial Guards all had rifles and bayonets, no sabers. It was the cavalry regiments that carried those.

"I'm on it!" cried Luigi, leaping over the balustrade, forgoing the steps entirely, and hurrying off to seek some swords outside.

A few feet away the fight between Joseph and Murderella continued. She was ridiculously strong and Joseph was starting to look more like an overripe fruit with each punch. He managed a desperate headbutt, shattering Murderella's nose, so she'd back off of him long enough that he could slip past her. He went running, calling to his younger brothers:

"I will announce the plans to the commanders!"

And so the eldest of the Bonapartes bounded for the front door, intending to go out and set the French troops upon their instructions.

In the meantime, Belle had seen enough. War, death, psycho Pream, now this — she was going to go home to her village, no matter what danger it meant. There was no way it could be worse than this, and she could not bear this for another minute.

She raced up the steps, barely dodging skirmishes and occasional bullets, till she reached the floor where Cogsworth and Cochet were staying.

"Cogsworth!" she screamed weepily over the clamor. She ran to his door and pounded.

In a moment, Cogsworth answered the door. He could hear the commotion without and had hoped he might avoid it entirely by just staying inside his quarters. "Milady — yes? Is there a problem?" he asked nervously.

"Cogsworth. We have to go, right away, back to the castle, back to my village — it's too dangerous here!"

Cogsworth couldn't agree more. "Shall I — pack your bags?"

"Leave them!" shrieked Belle, throwing herself desperately into his arms, "I want to go now!"

Cogsworth was a bit taken aback, but he understood the desperation. "I'll grab the lockbox, and find Cochet," he answered hurriedly. He released Belle and disappeared into his room, reemerging momentarily with a travel bag containing the all-important cashbox that would see them safely back home. He then raced a few doors down to where Cochet was lodged.

"Grab anything important — we're fleeing!" Cogsworth told him.

Cochet snatched up his big purple hat and was ready immediately.

The trio made their way back down the stairs. It was like trying to navigate across an active demolition derby. Moreover, everything in Murderella's house was a weapon, and the intensity of the battles grew as more shivs and hidden firearms were pulled up by the participants. When the trio reached the first floor they were starting to see blood on the rugs.

Descending another flight of stairs, the three refugees were suddenly smashed against by a massive hunk of meat that sent them all tumbling like ninepin kyles. As Cogsworth scrambled over the floor to recover the dropped lockbox, Belle struggled to right herself. All of a sudden, to her terror, something seized her, enveloping her.

"Belle! Belle!" his voice cried. So familiar a voice.

It couldn't be. She turned her head and saw those unmistakable blue eyes looking back at her.

"Beast…?" she asked, unable to believe it. He looked more haggard than she'd ever seen him. Dirty. Scruffy. But it was him.

Before anything else could be said, before she could even return his embrace, he winced in agony as a flintlock was unloaded into his back.

"Beast!" she cried, panicked.

The Prince knew immediately it wasn't a fatal shot, but it would hurt like the devil for fifteen minutes. As badly as he wanted to stay with Belle right now, he could see this was not the right moment. He released her and scrambled desperately to his feet, his complexion already gone pale.

"Go! It's me they want!" he warned. "Go! Go!" He turned away, intentlessly revealing a stream of blood that dribbled through his shirt.

Behind him Napoleon was screaming at the guard who had shot him: "Do not waste your bullets on him! You hear me? No one shoot him — capture and detain only!"

Belle was reeling from this discovery that her husband was still alive — and inside the mansion! She sat there, baffled, for longer than she ought to have, trying to figure out what this new information meant she should do.

Hair had fallen into her face, and she raised her hand to draw it back. She noticed her wedding ring was black again.

She observed as Beast returned to grappling with the three men in grey redingotes. That was Napoleon and his brothers, she knew. General Joseph Bonaparte had been living in the mansion for days, and Belle had met him. He was not amidst the fray. The last she'd observed, he was leaving to announce orders.

If he had gone outside, that meant either Pream or Gargantua was supposed to detain him.

She thought about seizing Beast and demanding he accompany her, but she comprehended his warning: bringing him would just bring the danger with him. And that ring… she realized it was going dark any time he was in trouble. She had to end that danger if she could safely be with him again, ever again.

"Hurry, let's go!" she cried to Cogsworth and Cochet, who were both back on their feet. They had seen the exchange and recognized their old master. Both were astonished and confused by this discovery, and unsure how to respond.

"Let's go!" Belle reiterated.

Cogsworth and Cochet followed her out the front entrance.

Immediately out the front door one could see Joseph Bonaparte and Pream, and one more Bonaparte coming at them — Luigi.

Joseph had emerged from the house, his redingote identifying him immediately to Pream as one of the men he waited for. The Prim one drew his gun-stick, aiming it for the gentleman in question. At that same time Luigi had been running by with an armful of sabers, on Pream's blind side — and seeing his brother in danger, he had swiftly moved to assist.

Consequently Pream heard Luigi run up barely in time to use his metal gun-stick to defend against a saber blow. Meanwhile, Joseph recognized an enemy and drew a pistol from his coat.

Belle had some complicated feelings about Pream at the moment, but she was not a person who would wish to see him die even for the worst of it.

"Pream, look out!" she exclaimed, seeing Joseph draw a gun to finish him.

Pream heard the warning and simply dropped to the ground, thus missing Joseph's bullet.

Cogsworth was actually not as useless in a fight as one might presume him to be, by his rather rotund and middle-aged appearance. This he had proven when the mob from Belle's village had stormed the castle a few months prior. He could see his multitasking was needed once again, and bravely he launched forward, cashbox in hand.

Cogsworth, in a single gesture, smashed both Luigi and Joseph over the head with the heavy box, bonking it from one skull to the other. The Bonapartes both fell to the ground, unconscious.

The nationalist pride was too much. The Englishman had just knocked out two Bonapartes by himself. "Rule, Britannia!" he sang out.

Belle hastily thanked Cogsworth, then ordered Cochet to hurry and bring the coach around. She looked over the two men on the ground. She knelt by Joseph and began to lift him up. Fortunately, Beast had provided her with plenty of experience at wrestling an unwilling passed-out man into a coach. Murderella had been right: it was great practice for a kidnapping.

"He has the Emperor's plans. He'll deliver them to the army to be carried out," she explained. "We need to restrain him."

"So he won't run away?" asked Pream.

"Yes," said Belle. "We need some rope…"

Pream just pointed his gun at Joseph's knee and blasted.

Belle was appalled. "Pream!" she cried.

Joseph reacted to the injury semi-conscious, groaning and whimpering.

"Now he won't run off on you," said Pream. "And he's alive." The Vicomte took his powder horn and his measure and began reloading the front muzzle of his gun-stick.

These aristocrats were far too pragmatic for Belle. Every moment made her feel more and more stupid for ever having been interested in Pream. "Um… Pream?" she said, observing that Cochet wasn't around with the coach yet, "I should tell you… that Beast is still alive."

"Oh, yes," said Pream, putting down wadding on the muzzle. "I saw him, in fact I had to open the gate for him. We looked for you, but you'd run off."

Belle wasn't sure whether to be more amazed at how easy Pream was taking this or at the realization she would have seen Beast's return had she stayed with him a few moments more. "So… you… don't have any hard feelings?"

"What do you think I am, some kind of stalker?" said Pream, surprised by her surprise. He had problems, but obsession wasn't one. "The two of you are like a measure of wine and the glass to drink it from. Like black powder and the spark to light it. Like a jack-knife and the torso to stab it into. One without the other — useless! But put together…" He sighed, longingly. "Still, don't take it ill, but the night is young. Let us see who is still alive tomorrow!"

At this point Cochet was coming around with the coach. Belle said farewell to Pream, and she and Cogsworth loaded Joseph Bonaparte into the cabin and climbed in after. Pream opened the gate for them, and watched them depart. When he returned to his waiting spot, he found that Luigi, and the pile of sabers, were gone.

…