A/N I think I need to stop apologizing for late updates (read: yearly). What can I say? It's not in my nature to be punctual. In fact one of my friends once wrote a limerick about my tardiness...Anyway onto the story:
Standing between Gaston and the fire, Belle's brown hair, tossed from its braid by her rough handling, danced around her head like a living halo. Just as the last syllables of her impassioned statement left her lips, any other words died from her mouth. All onlookers turned to stare as a magnificent carriage smoothly rolled its way into the square.
Grunting, Gaston backed away from her. Where before the soldiers had been at ease, joking with their comrades and disregarding of rank among their fellows, now they snapped into the semblance of a formation. The crackling of the fire seemed unnaturally loud to the hushed square. Several girls rushed to shield their nakedness, while others stood stock-still caught halfway unbuttoning their bodices.
"wha…?" Belle's query died on her lips as, turning, she caught sight of the coach's insignia. Burnished on the door of the carriage were the Emperor's arms. A gold-embossed laureled falcon glared at her from the carriage, except in place of the royal N usually accompanying the insignia, a stylized J replaced it.
Like a great black beast, tethered to two dappled horses, the carriage rolled to halt directly in front of the fire so that the horses seemed to blow sparks from their nostrils and the whole rig was bathed in a demonic red. "No good can come from such omens" Plumette whimpered piously beside her.
The square collectively held its breath as the red-liveried footman bent to unfurl a set of steps and opened the carriage door…