BELLE shivered with gritted teeth as she and LeFou approached the towering iron-wrought gates of the Prince's shining castle.
Her first thought of the place was that it looked a little grotesque. More to the point, the intimidating structure was nothing like that which had been depicted in the stories she had read over the years, and did not know what to make of it at first glance.
Belle glanced towards the castle's sharp domineering towers and frightening stone statues of gargoyles that guarded the topmost parapets and leered down at any potential newcomers.
The young woman for a moment, perhaps inappropriately, let her overactive and sensitive imagination get the better of her. She wondered if they could talk, what they would say to her.
If those monsters of stone were watching her now from above, silently assessing her and wondering why she'd come. Awe and trepidation flooded her bones.
But the chance to start a new life for herself, one that did not involve being forced to marry Gaston, was an opportunity that she could not pass up.
She vowed to thank Monsieur LeFou in whatever way she could, praying that someday, she would get the chance to and she'd see the man again.
Belle turned towards LeFou and was unable to keep the nervousness off her expression, even as she tried to shoot the man a hopeful little smile that would suggest to Gaston's best friend she would be alright, even though she was not entirely sure she would be.
LeFou's expression was as grim as a grave and the edges of his mouth pinched in a frown.
Belle flinched. She knew that this would be an experience for her unlike anything she would receive were she to have stayed behind and married Gaston.
She knew this was an opportunity she could not waste, no matter how unpleasant she suspected it would be, for reasons that she could not yet explain.
She had been given an opportunity most girls in their village only dreamed of. She would be living in the actual castle of the royal family, serving the Prince himself.
Belle made a list of all the questions in her mind she hoped to ask a member of the castle staff.
Belle wondered in which part of the castle the young Prince lived, and if the rumors were true, that the Prince's father, the late Duke, had once angered a woman of magic, a witch, an Enchantress of sorts.
Most in their village thought her touched in the head and crazy for thinking along such lines, but Belle did not think it was so far a stretch that the royal family was set under a horrific curse.
The family had been famously reclusive for the last few dozen years or so. The Prince rarely left the castle following the late Duchess's death, his mother having passed some time ago from an ailment when the Prince was just a boy, probably no older than five. When the Prince did leave the castle and its grounds on those rare occasions, it was rumored that he did so under great efforts to remain unknown. Belle thought she would not have been surprised to learn the man was hiding things away in the castle, as a hoarder would do.
She was pulled from her mind's wandering and staring at the castle by the sound of a guard barking an order to open the gate, and was brought back to herself as the second of the guard shoved a burning torch too close to her face. Belle heard Monsieur LeFou speaking, though only caught the tail end of the conversation. She listened intently, going as silent as an owl.
"What d'you want? State your business, monsieur, and be quick about it now, I haven't got all bloody night. Why are you at the gates?" barked the taller of the two guards, who was peering at Belle curiously through the gaps in the gate and still kept the torch too near to her face.
The heat from the flickering fire was far too stark a contrast to the bitter cold that hung in the air that carried with it the faint scent of a coming snowfall soon, likely even a blizzard.
The guard's threatening tone merely spurred a shrug from LeFou as the short stout man cast a knowing little look with Belle. She could not be sure, but she thought she saw LeFou smile.
"Merely two travelers, just, uh, passing through, sir. Is it true, then? Louis from the kitchens told me that the Prince's maid was dismissed?" LeFou asked, attempting to keep his tone casual, though Belle heard the interest in his voice and wondered if the guard heard it too.
"Maybe he did, but what does it matter to you?"
LeFou scoffed and rolled his eyes at the night sky.
"So it is true, then."
Belle clenched her teeth as the taller of the two guard's gaze flicked back towards her and lingered for a moment longer than was appropriate before returning his eyes to LeFou.
"Why do you have her?" the guard spoke in a slow voice, looking at LeFou with suspicion.
"Oh, her?" LeFou chuckled morosely as if he'd even forgotten that Belle had walked by his side the whole trek through the forest. He looked towards Belle and gave her a once over in her blue dress that was torn at the hem and her scuffed brown suede boots that were muddied from the walk in the woods but still looked high quality and were her most prized possession.
LeFou took a cautious step closer towards Belle, who had started to shiver from the cold as the temperatures continued to steadily drop, and shoved her forward, not roughly, but enough so that the guards could see her face clearly.
"She's out of work, no living family that she knows of, and we'd heard Louis boasting last night that the Prince needed a new maid since he dismissed the old one so soon after she'd started working, so I thought I'd bring her here. She has no one in her life she can go to otherwise if she's turned away. Would the castle staff even consider getting Belle an appointment, Henri?"
Belle was taken aback at how smooth and languid and confident LeFou's tone sounded as he addressed the two soldiers on night duty assigned to guard the gates, how he seemed to know them personally, and then chastised herself for her foolishness and for not paying close attention.
Of course, the man would know them, as Gaston's best friend, Gaston knew practically everyone in their village and the neighboring village of Doveport a day's walk away. He would know everything that happened inside the castle thanks to those that worked there but did not live within the castle itself and would head to the taverns after their shifts for the night ended.
The two guards exchanged a look with one another before both men's gazes lingered on her. Belle shivered and gritted her teeth. She tried to ignore the churning pit that was now forming in her stomach. Belle bravely tried to pretend she did not feel their irritating leers threatening to burn a hole in the side of her skull as she sharply turned her head away and averted her gaze as they looked her over carefully.
"They might, Monsieur LeFou, though there's no guarantee Cogsworth is going to just give her the job like that, you know the old mental coot has his 'procedures,' but we're happy to take her inside and see what can be done," the shorter of the two said after a pause and opened the gates wider, allowing Belle to slip inside.
The taller of the two men spoke next as he looked at Belle as she passed them by.
"You don't even have a coat, mademoiselle, do you?" he asked, taking careful note of how she shivered in the thin and threadbare cloak she had been forced to make for herself last winter using their curtains. The garment was old and likely would not survive another winter.
Belle shook her head numbly, her lips turning blue.
The two men sighed and motioned for her to follow them with a wave of their arms.
"Come along with us, then, and quick about it now. We'd like to go home and haven't all night. We'll take you round to the kitchens first and see what we can do about getting you a nice hot bowl of soup before we take you upstairs to meet Cogsworth. I think it's onion soup tonight, our favorite," the taller one murmured thoughtfully as he scratched the edges of his coarse beard. "The head chef here is one of France's finest, or so he boasts, though his cooking speaks for itself. You will enjoy it here, I'm sure. And old Mrs. Potts I'm sure would love to meet you, she's always happy to take another maid." Without so much as sparing Belle another glance, the men paraded their backs to Belle and began to walk up towards the castle.
Belle paused, intending to follow, but she wanted a moment to say her goodbyes. Slowly, she pivoted at the waist and tilted her head to the right side, turning back to look at LeFou.
"Thank you, monsieur, for doing this for me. I know that what you have done for me tonight is a risk, but I am grateful," Belle added shyly, suddenly too timid to meet LeFou's gaze as she was overcome with social awkwardness. She had always been painfully shy even amongst those in the village like LeFou and the baker and bookshop owner who knew her best.
Though thankfully, these days, that shyness did not last long as she was trying to force herself out of her shell. LeFou shot Belle a crooked but humbling smile, one that Belle could not help but shyly return as she eyed Gaston's best friend from the corner of her lowered gaze as she studied the muddied, snow-covered ground intently. He was not at all handsome in the slightest, but something of the man's warmth was contagious and she knew he would make a loving and wonderful husband to the baker's daughter Iseult soon. Her white smile widened.
"I-it was the only thing I could do, Belle, I know you would not be happy with Gaston," he stammered, reaching up a hand to gingerly rub the back of his neck as a light pink blush speckled along his cheeks. "A-and it's really not necessary to thank me, but…you're welcome. Belle, before you go, I..there's...er..something I needed to say," LeFou blurted out as she made to turn away when he said nothing immediately by way of response.
She paused and tilted her head to the side as she attended to his words.
"I-it's been a great honor, being able to—to call you my friend, a-and you giving me the courage to approach Iseult, was your greatest gift," he said, forcing down the lump in his throat. "I owe you a debt, Belle," LeFou said.
He did not tell Maurice's daughter that for some reason, he felt as though Belle would never again be returning to their village.
Belle shot LeFou a funny smile, a bit confused. She furrowed her eyebrows in confusion.
"Monsieur LeFou. Stop this. You are talking as though you will never see me again." The pained look on LeFou's face told Belle that the man feared just exactly that. Sensing he was not convinced, she continued. "I will return to the village for your wedding, monsieur. You have my word."
She smiled brightly and perked up a bit at the happy thoughts that danced through her mind as she envisioned what a delightful celebration his wedding would be.
LeFou looked shocked but less so than he expected to be as he wrung his hands.
"A-absolutely," LeFou stammered, once more trying to shove down his certainty that Belle would be unable to keep her part of the deal.
"Then this is not goodbye, LeFou, at least not forever," Belle promised, gently smiling. "I will see you in a few weeks," she promised as she turned away at the sounds of the guards' impatient tone as they called to her.
The men were clearly eager for her to catch up so they could get in out of the cold, if only for a few moments.
"Until then," LeFou agreed, returning her smile with one of his own, but it felt strained.
Belle moved away, smiling at LeFou and breaking into a light jog in order to catch up.
LeFou watched, standing stock-still as she bounded up the steps with a surprising speed that could summon a hurricane and that took the guards by surprise at how 'unladylike' the gesture was. LeFou had to smile at that. He suspected there was much of Maurice's daughter that would surprise the castle staff and especially the Prince in the days to come.
But if only he could have known how right he was.
Just before she disappeared through the door that apparently led into the servants' wing of the castle on the first floor, Belle turned and gave Monsieur LeFou a hopeful little wave.
LeFou was quick to return Belle's enthusiasm with a wave of his own and turned away finally when he sensed that she was out of his hands.
Opening the door wider to slip into the darkness, out of the corner of her gaze, Belle caught her last glimpse of Monsieur LeFou as she turned away and made to head inside.
As she stepped inside and felt a wave of icy cold air wash over her as the door shut behind her, Belle tried not to give too much heed to the notion that flitted through her mind as her eyes returned to the floor in front of her.
For some reason, she felt as though she would never return to their village or see LeFou or anyone from their provincial town ever again.
BELLE was led to the kitchens through a dimly lit corridor by the two guards. As she walked, she could not help but look around at the new surroundings of the lavish castle that she suspected was to become her new home. The Prince's castle was grand, old, and looking to fall in slightly ill repair, but magnificent nonetheless. As she walked down the cold stone hallways, which were lit by torches in their respective sconces, she reached out to touch the cool walls. The stones were smooth beneath the cool skin of her palm.
She was so enraptured by the portraits of the royal family that she ran straight into the back of an elderly gentleman dressed in an immaculately pressed rich velvet maroon coat as he emerged from a room that looked to be a private office, of sorts, and nearly trampled the man.
Belle immediately jumped back and apologized under her breath with a bright pink blush covering her face as she waited for him to speak. The man's eyes peered curiously at the coloring of her cheeks through the lenses of his spectacles with a strange interest, but he looked away soon enough for it not to be odd. Belle kept a hand over her mouth, mortified.
"Fear not, my dear, I can tell you meant no offense, though you'd best take better care to watch where you're walking in the future. The master could be apt to give you a lashing if you were to ever run into him as you did just me," he murmured in an ancient warbling tone of disapproval as the man sniffed and made an odd noise of dissent through his hooked nose.
The old man whose face was a map of many wrinkles turned towards the two guards, who immediately snapped to attention and stood up as straight as their spines would allow them to.
Belle would have been amused if she were not so taken aback and flustered by their change.
"Has she been brought to us to fill the position?" he asked authoritatively in a commanding tone, not sparing Belle so much as a second glance, but keeping his gaze on the men.
"Yes, sir," the guards answered in unison, now speaking as though they were one person instead of two. Belle, taken aback by the synchronization, could only gape, mouth slack.
The old man gave a nonverbal grunt and dismissed the two guards.
Belle watched in surprise as they disappeared down the corridor to return to their post outside and only turned back to look towards the newcomer when the sound of the old man clearing his throat reached her.
She turned, and the blush on her face deepened as she found the gentleman studying her.
"I...apologize for the unique strangeness of your new situation, mademoiselle," the old man spoke formally as he sank into an awkward little half bow, as much as his stiff-looking knees would let him before he straightened his gait and yet again motioned to Belle to follow.
Belle could only comply, though thankfully, this time she had a much easier time matching his pace, which was slow and steady if not leisurely. He continued engaging her in conversation as they walked.
"I can assure you this is not the way things are usually done around here, but given the lady Collette's recent, er, 'dismissal,' I would have been willing to accept any woman who walked through those bloody gates. Follow me and keep up, my lady. I will show you to your room."
"Your room, mademoiselle," he announced when they came to the end of a hallway to the last room on the left side as he slowly pushed the door open. "I do hope it is acceptable."
Belle curiously slipped past the man who had yet to introduce himself and into the bedroom, her lips parting as she did so. For a servant's apartment, the room was absolutely amazing.
There was a rich colorful red Persian rug on the floor, a small but comfortable-looking bed, and a little area for writing, which she appreciated.
She had taken to writing down some stories of her own when Monsieur Levi's bookshop in town did not have anything new of the kind of stories she had been itching to read.
Perhaps she could take advantage of the space. Before the man left, who humbly introduced himself as Monsieur Cogsworth, one of three Heads of Household and in charge of the Prince's estate and financial affairs, he gave Belle a set of very simple instructions to follow.
The rules here did little to impede her freedom, even as the castle's newest maid and Monsieur Cogsworth gave off no sign of annoyance when Belle asked him to repeat himself.
She had been listening to the sound of the crackling fire in the hearth and thinking how lovely it would be to pull the armchair perched in the corner of the room closer to the fire to create a cozy and warm reading nook.
Belle could visit any part of the castle except the West Wing, and even then, only with the Prince's express permission if he had need of her to venture there. She was to stay out of the basement and the room at the far end of the hall on the West Wing.
Monsieur Cogsworth informed Belle of those being the Prince's personal rooms and that the man was private.
Only when Belle nodded her head to show she understood did he continue on with his explanation of the rules and what was to be expected of her in this role.
As the Prince's personal maid, she would be tending to his every need, whatever that be, and she was not to refuse a direct order given to her, no matter how ridiculous or even lewd it was.
Hearing those words from him and seeing the grave expression on the old man's face stuffed the chills down her throat, but Belle was given no time to wonder what on earth this Prince had asked his previous maids to do for him as the man shuffled to the door to take his leave.
She thanked him graciously for the opportunity to be here and allowed her to stay.
Belle tried to convey just how thankful she was and that she would work hard to prove it and hopefully not disappoint the Prince. They said goodbye to the time being after shyly telling the retired general that her name was Belle.
Belle had expected to run into Cogsworth again after she had unpacked the contents of her satchel and found places for her few measly possessions.
However, as she went to nearly every end of the castle, she saw no sign of Cogsworth, or any other servant, for that matter, which Belle thought was quite strange.
She had no idea how long she was lost for, but about an hour after her attempt at exploring the vast castle that was to be her home for the foreseeable future, Belle found herself lost.
Belle was quickly losing her patience and growing frustrated, for it seemed to her that every single door she opened only led to another hallway and then another room, and then, somehow without noticing, she would be right back where she started.
This castle was an enormous labyrinth. She could easily get lost again if she wasn't careful.
At the peak of her frustration, Belle found herself in front of a door that was locked.
She jiggled the doorknob in frustration, desperate to get inside, hoping that it was the way back to the east wing to the servants' quarters and had merely gotten stuck behind her.
"That is the basement, Ma Cherie."
Belle jumped when she heard the sound of an unfamiliar man's voice behind her, the tone of a smooth buttery purr that immediately had her on edge.
A tiny cry of surprise was ripped from her lips as she turned around to see a man with stunning gold hair pulled back into a ponytail, holding a torch in one hand, dressed in an immaculate golden jerkin and black hose.
He was an enchanting sight, this stranger, with a princely face. He was a handsome man with highly defined cheekbones and sharp features
The stranger had a hint of slight smugness to him that suggested to Belle he knew he was a charmer, and knew how to use those features to his advantage to flirt with women.
Regardless, Belle could not help but like him immediately, for he was different from Gaston. His smile was warm and his hazel eyes kind.
"I'm very sorry, monsieur, I—I got lost," she stammered, her tongue feeling like heavy clay in her mouth as she gathered the skirts of her dress and sank into a brief curtsy.
"Yes, I could hear you moving around," he told her jovially and held out his arm to escort her down the hall. "This way, please, follow me towards the kitchens, Belle. I have asked the head cook to prepare a nice hot bowl of soup for you."
"You know me? You could hear me? Where were you?" Belle asked, her curiosity getting the better of her now.
And why did no one come to fetch me? She wondered, nibbling on the wall of her mouth as she hurried to catch up.
"Mrs. Potts and I did not know you were lost, Belle, and for that, we do humbly apologize," the man answered, introducing himself in a quiet and mild-mannered voice as Lumiere.
It took Belle a moment to realize that the question the man had just answered was not the one that she had voiced out loud. But she did not have a chance to ponder it as Lumiere spoke to her again and promptly pulled Belle out of her mind's wanderings.
"Are you hungry, Cherie? But you must be starving?" he questioned, quirking a brow at how skinny Belle was.
"Oh, yes, I...I am, thank you," she confessed, suddenly realizing her hunger as her stomach elicited a low and almost painful grumble.
She had eaten little since Papa's death, too consumed by her own grief to keep anything down much only for her to gag it back out altogether at an unspecified time of day.
"I hope that you will enjoy your meal," Lumiere told her as the man led her through the maze of rooms toward the dining hall.
She thought it would take a lifetime to learn all of the different corridors, where they led. Before they entered the dining room, Lumiere paused to take Belle's hand and gingerly guided her inside.
It was a gentlemanly gesture and she blushed as he did so, though she already knew, Lumiere was not her type.
Perhaps he might have been, were he younger and close to her age, but she was almost twenty and he looked to be at least thirty. He was a good ten years older than she.
Lumiere once again looked at her pink skin before quickly turning away. He placed the torch he had been holding in his other hand on the wall before guiding her towards the place setting that had been prepared for her, even pulling out her chair for her as well.
"Thank you, monsieur," she said, touched by his eagerness and his apparent desire to please. Her mouth watered as he removed the tin cover from the plate of food set in front of her. "Oh, my goodness," she breathed, excited to see the steaming bowl of hot onion soup in front of her, a loaf of buttered bread, and a hearty-looking wedge of Brie cheese on her plate.
It was a beautiful meal and Belle had to struggle with herself to try to remain properly polite.
In her nearly ravenous hunger, Belle wanted nothing more than to pick up the steaming bowl of nearly scalding onion soup with her hands and swallow it all whole.
But the handsome man seated across the table from her kept her from doing so, and she tried to eat as daintily as she could. It was a moment or two before Lumiere spoke up again.
"Has Monsieur Cogsworth informed you of the master of the castle and his…er… a rather imperious bride? Has he informed you what is expected of you?" Lumiere questioned, lowering his voice an octave and his voice had turned so soft that Belle almost missed it entirely.
"Yes, monsieur, this castle is beautiful," she told the man as she ate.
Lumiere nodded his head in gratitude, though his expression turned solemn.
"I would advise you while you stay with us, mademoiselle, that there is to be no negative talk regarding the Prince, his methods, and especially no backtalk to the man's future bride. Princess Circe is…a handful though she can be quite charming. On the right moods, that is."
Belle was about to ask after this Princess, though before she could so much as utter the first syllable, she could hear the voices coming from the room directly above their heads, and the voices were not exactly meek in tone either.
"What on earth...?" she gasped, her mouth going slightly slack in surprise as she stared at the ceiling, and swore she saw the crystal shards of the chandelier on the ceiling quake just then.
A chill ripped through her and Lumiere bolted to her feet, motioning for her to do the same as a shrill shriek rent the air that sounded as though it belonged to a young woman.
Her shoulders leapt in fright at the sound of what sounded like a chalice or perhaps a metal supper tray being thrown through the air and she imagined the food or wine that would spew like a storm in all directions of the room.
A mess that, as the Prince's new maid, she'd have to clean later, she sighed, realizing that this was to be her new life now. Lumiere shot her an apologetic look and groaned.
"My lady, I am afraid that I would have to see you later, from the sounds of things, the Princess, she is need of my assistance—" Lumiere blurted out, his face draining of color.
They must really be something else, she thought, shaking her head as she momentarily found herself in a daze.
Belle immediately shook her head as she noticed the man's trembling hands and fretted hazel eyes which a moment ago had been so carefree and happy, told her without Lumiere having to say a word what sort of person the Prince and this Princess Circe were.
It was then that she felt a strange nagging pull to catch a glimpse of them and perhaps do what she could to diffuse the tension and rectify the situation.
If nothing else, she could introduce herself to the man whom she would be serving, and perhaps spare Monsieur Lumiere the pain of having to go up there himself. She sighed.
"Let me go, Monsieur, please. Let me speak with them. I will see what I can do about getting them to calm down, whatever has happened. I will have to encounter the Prince and Princess at some point. It cannot be avoided forever. Let me go in your place."
The sigh that Lumiere let out was enough to tell Belle just how grateful he was for her toleration.
"I—y-you must go then, Belle, she sounds in pain…"
"I will. Thank you, Monsieur, again, for the meal, and for staying with me and keeping me company," Belle had bid even before Lumiere had turned heel and fled the room.
She herself was in concern over whatever was happening upstairs as she darted out of the dining hall and towards the castle's grand lavish staircase.
The sound is coming from the West Wing, she realized with a jolt.
Her mouth went dry as she realized she was venturing into one of the forbidden places that Monsieur Cogsworth had told her not to set foot in without the Prince's express permission.
Her stomach churned and she bit the wall of her cheek as she realized she would likely get into trouble for this, and on her very first night in her new position as well, but the matter could not be helped. This was where the sounds were coming from, and as Belle hurried down the dark corridor of the Wing, Belle tried to vest herself to remain in one piece as she passed by a group of soldiers, whose eyes never failed to land on her, eyeing her looks with interest.
Her legs moved at a brisk pace as she ventured further down the hall, identifying the door behind which the harrowing screams were coming from as the last door on the right.
Steeling herself, she did not let herself stop.
The shadows from the torches along the wall followed Belle as she paused outside the door, closing her eyes and willing her racing heart to relax. Then, before her resolve could falter, with a firm twist and a push, she shoved the massive immaculately carved oak door open.
Through the cracked door, delicate brown eyes peered into the room.
Belle breathed a heavy sigh as she slipped through the door, closing it shut behind her as she braced herself to expect the worst as she prepared herself to meet the Prince for the first time.