BELLE nearly felt sick as she cradled the little puppy in her arms and hurried down the corridor of the West Wing, eager to put as much distance between herself and the arrogant Prince and his insufferable bride-to-be as possible.
By the time she reached her room, the skies outside were pitch-black. The curtains were pulled tightly, blocking any light from bursting through the glass and illuminating the room.
For a long moment, Belle was frighteningly disoriented. There were a few terrible moments of panic as she began to fear the worst and wondered what she had allowed herself to be talked into.
She began to wonder if perhaps getting through life as Gaston's wife would not be such a terrible outcome after all, and then immediately dismissed the thought.
Anything is better than to suffer being that man's wife, she thought.
An abrupt bitterness seeped its way into the pit of her stomach as she set the puppy down on the floor of her bedroom. The dog gave a wag of his tail in thanks and immediately curled into a ball on top of the rug near the fire in the hearth.
Belle could not help but smile and temporarily forced thoughts of Gaston away from her mind, though she could not avoid thinking of him forever. There was also the little matter of how she planned to attend LeFou's wedding without being seen. But she would worry about that later. For now, she needed to see the poor dog.
"What do they call you, hmm? Have you a name or will I have to give you one?" Belle crooned in what she hoped was a soothing voice as she strode towards where the puppy lay in front of the fire, the incident with Princess Circe nearly forgotten from the little dog's mind already as he looked up and his tail wagged and he gave a bark. She chuckled as she affectionately ruffled his fur. "Hmm. You look like a Prince to me, and a much better one than the master of this castle," she decided.
A faint smile found her lips as she swore the dog sat up and preened. He had intelligent eyes for a puppy, and could not fathom how the Princess could have wanted to hurt this poor creature to such an extreme. Belle frowned and looked away from the pup, willing her temper to cool down. Belle suspected there would still yet be a consequence come the morning for her actions, but she could not let her mind dwell on the uncertainty ahead. Belle was ripped from her thoughts by the sound of a light rapping upon the door. She cringed and looked toward the intricately carved oak panel with hesitation. She prayed that it was not the master of the castle.
Surely, the man could understand her need for solitude and he had all but ordered her from the Wing. Unless he had changed his mind already and had further need of her, or was only summoning her to get a rise out of her. It was likely the latter, but she could not refuse no matter what.
As the door creaked open and in stepped two women, both maids by the look of them, a sigh of welcome surprise left Belle's lips and she felt the tension in her shoulders leave her. She did not know why she had expected to find the Prince on the other side of the door, but the fact that he was honoring his word and leaving her alone for the remainder of the evening comforted her, more than she cared to admit.
"Ah, er, good evening, I...I did not expect anyone would want to visit me this evening," she stammered shyly, tilting her head to the side as the puppy bounded forward and jumped into her lap before she could get to her feet to greet the old and young woman who entered.
She made to rise to her feet, though the older woman, a short stout plump woman with her graying hair swept up into a comb stopped her, pausing to set aside a metal tray containing what looked to be a small assortment of prepared lemon cakes and a steaming cup of herbal tea down onto the small wooden night table beside her bed.
The old woman clucked her tongue and shook her head, immediately causing Belle to halt her attempts to stand.
"Oh, please don't get up on our account, dearie, my niece Laure and I do not intend to take up too much of your time tonight, mademoiselle. We merely wished to meet you ourselves and make the necessary introductions. My name is Mrs. Potts, dear, and I am in charge of the maids who work for the estate. You would be reporting directly to me, though I thought it best if you were to get acquainted with my niece, Laure. You two are about the same age, my dear. It would do my niece here a world of good to have another girl in the castle, one a bit closer to her age." She tilted her head to the side as a young woman stepped forward.
The younger girl looked to be about Belle's age, perhaps a year or two older, closer to the Prince's age, and quite pretty, with lovely auburn red curls that cascaded in gentle ringlets to just past her shoulders and sparkling blue eyes that lit up as her gaze rested upon Belle.
Belle returned the maid's smile with one of her own, deciding that she already liked Mrs. Potts' niece, knowing her smile was genuine, not false like Princess Circe's had been. She had a light smattering of freckles that dusted along the bridge of her nose and as she walked forward there was practically a skip in her step as her smile widened.
"I'm glad that Monsieur Cogsworth accepted you for the position, Belle. It's been…er…hectic since the Princess arrived in the castle and not many of the other girls under my aunt are willing to put up with the Prince's er… 'moods,'" Laure stammered.
Mrs. Pott's niece Laure recalled the young Prince as a menacing sort of man who almost rarely smiled, and when he did, there was a bit of rake in the Prince's devilishly handsome white smile that always made her think of wolf-like cunning, as though the man were a Beast.
Laure paused to draw in a breath and continued, noticing Belle eyeing her keenly and waiting for the maid to continue.
"I assume that Lumiere already explained to you how everything works?" the maid chirped hopefully, biting down on her lip and toying with one of her curls.
Belle shook her head. "Not everything, only that the Prince takes his breakfast at six and I must do what I can to mind my temper around the man and speak of nothing negative." A shiver ran through her, though she tried to fight it back down and shot Mrs. Potts' niece a warm smile. "I guess it's up to you to tell me the rest if you have time." She let out a soft albeit nervous chuckle and folded her hands neatly in front of herself as she flicked her gaze between the young maid and the old woman.
Laure offered a morose little smirk and chuckled a bit as she still toyed with a curl of her hair, a nervous habit of hers, Belle noticed affectionately.
"Of course, I will. I am happy to, but only in the morning, Belle, when you have had a moment to catch your breath and rest. It was brave of you to rescue the dog from the master's wrath, and the Princess's. The rest of the girls think that you will do even better than Collette did and we're glad you're here. You do not seem to be afraid of the Prince, mademoiselle, and that can be a good thing. If you ask me, I think the man needs to be humbled...or turned into a frog or a toad by a witch as punishment for his rudeness." Her voice trailed off concerned as she looked into her fellow new maid's eyes.
"Enough, Laure," Mrs. Potts interjected sharply, a stern yet concerned tone to the bite in the old woman's voice. "You must take better care what you say, my dear, the castle walls have ears, you know. You do not want a word that you spoke ill of the master to get back to him, do you?"
Laure shuddered and shook her head, shamefaced, lowering her head towards her aunt as a means of apologizing to her.
"No, Auntie," she whispered in a small, meek voice.
Mrs. Potts shook her head and pursed her lips in disapproval of her young niece's ability to speak so boldly about the master of the castle and turned her attention towards her new charge, the pretty Belle. She was quite a beauty, of that she could not deny, Mrs. Potts realized with a jolt as her kind eyes made a quick scan of the young brunette's figure and quickly deemed the woman was much too waifish and skinny.
She made a mental note to ask the chefs in the kitchen to sneak extra morsels of food onto her plates for her meals when she and Laure returned in a moment. But for now, she was eager to give Belle advice during the quiet moments when they had a moment alone.
"I must inform you, my dear, that as someone who has watched the master grow from a young boy into the man he is now, I think it best if you steer clear from him this evening, he seems….quite….distraught," she said.
Belle slowly nodded her head at all of the information, though she furrowed her brows in confusion as to why the Prince could be upset. What could a Prince, who had everything handed to him upon a silver platter from the moment he was born, possibly know of strife and suffering, as she had known it?
She assumed that she would find out come the morning, though attending to the Prince over his breakfast was not an experience she was looking forward to having. She would not be quick to forget the way the Prince had looked at her, as though she were the prey that he was stalking.
He had looked at her as though he had seen something he liked very much and meant to have one day, but there was a cold glint to the man's wintry blue eyes she did not know what to make of.
She could not tell what the Prince was thinking, or feeling, or if a man like him could feel anything at all, and she did not like it. The Prince had already proven himself to be a menacing person and she could not even recall any of the villagers back home ever telling a story of the man where he showed any small ounce of kindness towards another living soul.
To hear Mrs. Potts describe the Prince as "distraught" made Belle wonder what on earth could have happened to the Prince to make him feel this way. She remembered a month or so ago the bells in the church had rung at least ten times throughout the day as word had spread of the late Duchess's death.
Belle pondered if the death of the Prince's mother was related to the Prince's foul mood. But even so, she knew that he did not and should not take out his pain and grief and misery upon those who waited upon him. It was not right, and she could not abide serving a master who behaved so cruelly, Prince or not. She remembered she owed Mrs. Potts and Laure an answer and quickly came back to herself. She nodded.
"Mrs. Potts, a—and Laure too, thank you so much for introducing yourselves and for your help and being so kind to me…but I must ask…The Prince…is he…would he ever...hurt anyone…?" she asked, but let her voice trail off as Mrs. Potts' face fell.
Mrs. Potts smiled sadly, already knowing where the young brunette was heading, and shook her head at Belle.
"No, my dear, the master has never so much as laid a hand on any of the servants here in the castle who work for him. The master has been…kind to us in the past, understanding of our positions and he keeps us on, shelters us, gives us a livable wage, food to eat, and clothes on our backs. We are grateful for all the Prince has done for us, and his moods are due to the death of his mother, the late Duke, but you need not let his temper get the better of you, dear."
"I would not fear the master. Human contact has been little for the Prince, save for those of us here in the castle. He's been locked up behind these castle walls for the last twenty years, not allowed to leave by order of the Duke, my dear. He's…"
Mrs. Potts quickly caught herself as she was not sure if she should mention the boy's father behaving cruelly towards him ever since the Duchess passed away. There were whispers that the boy had been abused but if they were true, the rumors stayed low. Nobody needed to be hanged for daring to confront the Prince and challenging the man regarding the information.
"He can be a kind man, timid and even shy. Er, on the right moods that is, poppet," she stammered.
Belle stared, blinking owlishly at Mrs. Potts as she struggled to process the news.
Unexpectedly, she was hit with a sudden wave of guilt towards her initial cold reaction towards him earlier and wondered if perhaps it would be appropriate to find and apologize to him, now that she thought she knew the truth.
She shook her head to herself. With due time…perhaps in the morning, after breakfast.
Belle quietly thanked Mrs. Potts and Laure for stopping by to meet her. Mrs. Potts nodded gratefully, appreciative of her thanks, and left her room to see about her duties. Her niece, however, lingered a moment.
Laure smiled at Belle. "I'm grateful that you're here, Belle. If I'm being honest, I did not like Collette much, the maid who held your position before. She was a bit too snooty for my taste," she sighed, crinkling her nose in disgust and pulling a face. But then the young redhead's features softened as she looked at Belle's nonplussed expression. "You seem nice, Belle. I don't know what your circumstances were that led you to the castle, but I'm just glad I can have someone to talk to now," Laure chirped.
Belle smiled warmly as Laure prepared to leave. "Me too. Thank you, Laure, for everything and for agreeing to show me the ropes tomorrow. Well, I suppose we'd both better get some sleep. I-it's late, and well, if we're going to get an early start tomorrow, then we should head to bed. I guess I'll see you around…not that I'll be going that far…."
Her quip caused Laure to break into a grin as she shyly waved.
"Have a goodnight then…Belle," Laure said shyly. The equally shy brunette smiled as she waved slightly, watching Mrs. Pott's niece flee from her room and disappear down the corridor, making to follow her aunt back to the kitchens. As Belle watched Laure flee, she felt some hope swell in her chest.
She could not remember the last time in her life she'd had an actual friend.
Perhaps it would not be so lonely here, after all…
Belle was grateful, however, to be left alone with her thoughts once more, though she looked forward to working alongside Laure and getting to know the young redhead better.
She drank the hot cup of Chamomile tea that Mrs. Potts had prepared for her, easily finding it the most deliciously brewed tea she had ever tasted and vowed to ask her how she made it and tried to relax as she sat in front of the fireplace and struggled to collect herself. As her body calmed, so did her mind. She prayed that whatever the coming months would bring as the man's servant, at least there would be work to do and she would be kept busy.
She would be busy and her mind would not have time to dwell on the grief she still felt at missing her beloved Papa, who hopefully now was reunited with Mama and at peace. Warm and content enough, Belle climbed into bed early. She had thought she would be facing yet another sleepless night as she had ever since Papa had taken his last breath.
However, soon she fell into a deep and peaceful sleep, the mattress the most comfortable bed she had laid upon and the goose feather down blankets the softest she had ever felt. She enjoyed the first tranquil sleep she had known in weeks.
That night, she did not dream of Papa's death or even Gaston. No. Instead, Belle dreamt of the Prince.
THE Prince stood silently watching Belle. In his black leathers, he looked noble, every bit a true Prince from the stories she was more than content to curl up with, yet the man's face was so sullen, it sent a chill down her spine. She thought she saw him mouth her name, but she could not hear his voice. She watched, horrified, as wiry dark brown hairs began to sprout from his body.
His limbs began to shake, and she could tell the Prince was screaming, though the man's screams of pain quickly turned to savage growls and snarls that almost sounded wolfish, beastlike.
Belle backed away, her hands clamped over her mouth in shock as she shook her head to herself, watching as the handsome but vain and arrogant Prince was transformed into a hideous creature, a Beast, right before her very eyes and she was powerless to stop it from happening.
The roar the Beast let out shook the ground beneath her boots, and Belle bolted upright with a startled cry of surprise, just as a startlingly loud clap of thunder rent the air just outside her new bedroom's window. Her lungs burned as she gasped for breath and a moment, she was frighteningly disoriented. Sweat beaded along her brow and strands of her hair were clinging to her forehead.
Her cheeks felt clammy and hot. Tears were streaming down her face and drenching the white nightgown she wore. Belle blinked with disbelief at the realization that it was merely a dream that filled her mind. Belle bolted out of bed and hastily reached for a robe draped over the back of her chair.
She thought she was close to having a nervous breakdown, tonight was certainly proving to be a night of regrets. She was beginning to regret ever coming here, and it pained her to think that there was even a slim chance that she might not ever see Monsieur LeFou again, or the bookstore owner, Monsieur Levi, either. The only two souls in their village beside Papa who had ever had a kind word for her.
She prayed there was a way she could attend LeFou's wedding, perhaps in disguise, maybe someone here from the castle could accompany her, but she would worry about that later on.
Hastily, she strode towards the window, desperate for a breath of fresh air, Belle realized she still felt so jaded from her earlier conversation with Princess Circe and then, of course, the Prince, as she had defended her dog. Belle squeezed her eyes shut as she prayed to Papa, to God, to anyone in the Heavens who might hear her, that tomorrow would be a better day.
My new life, she thought bitterly to herself.
As she unlatched the sill of her window, her eyes squinted in the diffused darkened sky of night. Belle felt a horrible churning in her stomach that was beginning to make its way toward her throat. She began to close the window to prevent the weeny droplets of rain from coming into her new room and making a mess, it was then that her inquisitive eyes caught sight of a cloaked dark figure on the grounds.
The figure was as still and silent as an owl. She looked further, trying to peer beneath the overly large hood of the ragged and tattered cloak to see who it was. An old woman, haggard, bent, and starving by the looks of her, was standing in front of the iron-wrought gates, a beautiful pristine red rose in a withered, arthritic hand.
The strange sight stopped Belle's breath in her lungs, and before she could fathom what was happening, she finally locked the window and darted across the room to hastily dress.
She did not know what on earth an old woman was doing at the castle's gates with a rose in hand or what she could want, but Belle knew one thing. If she needed assistance, she could not—would not—turn the old woman away as she suspected the Prince and Princess Circe would be bound to do.
Her decision was made up, her mind was clear as she scurried outside onto the castle grounds and prepared to meet this old woman. Her gaze curiously peered at the old woman's catlike green eyes in curiosity through the hooded cloth of her cloak, her eyes stuck on the old woman.
"I really am a stupid woman," Belle whispered to herself in a hushed voice as she hurried towards the gates.
Yet a pang of sympathy ran through her at the thought of this poor soul, whoever she was, out here alone and shivering in the cold for God only knew how long. She prayed she had not been out here too long, lest she catches a chill just as her beloved Papa has that would be the death of her. Belle nearly halted and felt her eyes grow wide as she shook her head to herself. She could not and would not think of Papa. Thoughts of her father would not help her here and now in her current situation.
The thought to let the woman inside the castle, just for a moment entered Belle's mind.
"No, I—I couldn't…" she whispered to herself as she put her hand over her mouth as she tried to silence her racing thoughts. "It is not my place to invite strangers inside. But I could though, just for a moment, get her something hot to eat from the kitchens…"
She kept her hand over her mouth as her gaze continued to linger upon the old woman and her eyes flicked towards the beautiful red rose in her hand that almost looked to be…glowing as if it were a magic flower. If it were, it would be a beautiful piece of magic.
Belle shook her head to herself and chided herself for her sudden foolishness. Magic, to the best of her knowledge, did not exist and was spoken of in hushed disapproving whispers by the villagers back home. That if anyone ever encountered a person who possessed the gifts of magic never anger them. It was rumored that the Prince's father, the Duke, had met such a woman once and had scorned the witch.
What had become of the royal family, Belle could not say, though she suspected her new master would know the truth of the matter. Whether or not the Prince would tell her, however, remained to be seen. Belle sighed in frustration as she quickly cast her gaze to the left and right, seeing no guards, and breathed a sigh of relief. She opened the gates, wincing as the gates creaked loudly as she did.
"Hurry, madame, please, you cannot be outside in these low temperatures, it is not good for you. Come with me, please, I—I will see what I can do about getting you something hot to eat and to let you sit by the fire for a bit," Belle offered kindly, stretching out her hand to the stooped-over old woman and looked upon the woman's otherwise frightening visage without a hint of scorn or fear. She looked like a character from one of the fables in her copy of her favorite book in her room.
Baba Yaga, the old witch was called. The old woman in front of her now reminded her of the witch from the stories.
Belle's breath caught in her throat as she looked upon the cloaked stranger's free hand not wound around the rose.
The woman appeared not more than a beggar in her tattered robes that needed darning, and her hand was more an arthritic claw as she stretched out a trembling hand to take Belle's. Her gray hair underneath her cloak was wispy and roughly sliced to shoulder length, and in the dim light of the moon and overgrown trees near the gates, the strange old woman's skin looked almost yellow in places.
She smiled at Belle with an unsettling toothy grin that sent a chill down her spine. "You are very kind, my dear," the hooded stranger offered in an accented tone that sounded as though the woman had come from someplace far away.
Belle's curiosity was piqued. Her eyebrows rose as she looked at the old woman who shuffled alongside her at a snail's pace. Perhaps the confusion was written all over her face, for the old woman offered a morose chuckle.
"I mean no harm, mademoiselle. I am...merely a traveler passing through but these old bones cannot take me any further tonight and in such weather too." The woman's ancient-looking green eyes that almost reminded her of Princess Circe's catlike green eyes seemed to smile at her almost knowingly from underneath her cloak's hood.
Belle nodded understandingly and yet, something within her began to harbor just a twinge of caution towards this stranger as she led the old beggar woman by the hand and began to make her way toward the door that led to the servant's wing of the castle. If they were quiet enough, given the lateness of the hour, the old woman could be in and out before anyone noticed, but Belle knew she could not turn her away without giving her something hot to eat and letting her stand in front of a good and strong fire to warm her aching and chilled bones.
As she quickly ushered the old woman once they were in front of the servants' entrance, a question burned on the tip of her tongue as she could not seem to take her eyes off the beautifully ethereal rose in the old woman's hand.
"F-forgive me, Madame, for asking, b-but….the rose in your hand…what is it?" she asked softly, her voice suddenly shy. She was unsure whether or not it was even her place to ask, though she prayed the old woman would be kind enough to answer her and supplicate her curiosity some. Considering how she was going out on a limb and risking her very employment and perhaps even her life to help her tonight, Belle thought that providing her with an answer was the least she could do now.
She waited for the old woman to speak as she quietly ushered her into the kitchen, though only after poking her head into the darkness of the open door to see if there was any soul still up and about at this late hour. She breathed a sigh of relief when she realized there wasn't, and quickly shut the kitchen door behind her.
"Well, my dear, even if I were to tell you the truth, I do not think that you would believe me. Most scoff and turn away when I tell them what it is, so for the moment, you may merely call it a…token of my appreciation. I am glad at least that someone in this Prince's shining castle seems to have a gentle heart. I do not think I have ever met someone as alone in the heart as you, mademoiselle. I have known you but a few short moments, my dear, and these old eyes of mine can see that you are a different woman. Not one of many. Perhaps you will do this Prince I've heard so much tell about a world of good, hmm?"
The old woman's eyes shifted as she lowered the hood of her cloak, her green eyes almost seeming to glint as she tilted her head to the side and studied Belle with a knowing look the flustered maid was not at all sure what to make of or how to respond.
She favored silence as the apt reply. "I…" Belle stammered and fell silent, staring at the old woman with a nebulous expression.
Belle paused, her mouth slightly agape and the young maid's expression was defeated. She quickly looked away and let out a frustrated sigh, reaching up a hand to tuck back a stray wisp of dark hair that had come loose from her ponytail. She was utterly taken aback as she curiously eyed the old woman out of the corner of her lowered gaze now seated by a chair in front of the fire by the stove.
Who was this poor creature, and what on earth would she be doing traveling in such awful weather?
Things were not adding up. Regardless, she was not about to let her suffer anymore tonight if she could help it.
By some miracle of God, Belle finally found her voice again, though it had turned timid and shy.
"Please, stay seated, warm yourself by the fire and let me see what I can do about getting you something hot to eat. It will not be much, but at least it will be hot. I could not in good conscience turn anyone away in this weather with nowhere to go. Come with me, let us get you inside." She turned away and bit the wall of her cheek as she thought for a moment, wringing her hands together as she knew for a fact this woman likely had nowhere to shelter.
Just like me, Belle realized with a jolt.
The old beggar woman lowered her head in reverence towards Belle's seemingly unexpected kindness. Belle thought she saw a shocked look flit across the crone's weathered features, but just as soon as it had come, it was gone.
"You are most kind, dearie, and for that, I am grateful. Perhaps it could not hurt to tell you the story of this rose after all," she muttered, a pensive look coming to her eyes. It was a glossy look, as though she were someplace far away from this very room, seeing something unfold before her from a completely different time and different place.
Belle felt a twinge of excitement rush through her veins, but ever mindful of her manners and careful not to seem too eager, she stamped it down and began rummaging through the pantries to see what could be scrounged up to serve as a hot meal for the poor soul. Finding nothing suitable, she huffed in irritation and blew a stray wisp of her bangs out of her eyes that had gotten in the way.
It was then that she perked up, remembering how, when Lumiere had brought her down this way, she remembered a spare storage closet just outside of the hall that he had made an off-handed comment about how the cooks kept their extra supplies within.
Perhaps she could find what she needed to make this poor woman some porridge. She turned towards the beggar woman and awkwardly brushed at the front skirts of her robe, an embarrassed blush settling over her features.
Belle shot the woman a pained look as she wrung her hands together. "I—I must apologize, madame, but I must leave you, only for a moment. We do not seem to have what I need to make you a nice hot bowl of porridge, though there is a spare closet outside the corridor, not far from here. I will be gone but just a moment."
The old woman smiled understandingly, grateful for her kindness, though Belle's keen eyes did not miss the strange sheen of a twinkle behind the woman's catlike green eyes as she locked eyes with Belle.
Belle stared, transfixed, unable to avert her gaze.
She could not tether how it was this woman, whoever she was, could be so…so…enchanting, in her way, for lack of a better word, though she certainly was not much to boast of in the looks department.
"Of course, dear sweet thing. Take your time and do take care. I would hate for you to be caught by that which moves in the shadows. One can never be careful. That which moves in the dark fears the light." Her words were eerie, to say nothing of cryptic too, and her expression was as grim as a grave.
The solemnity of her words and her gaze stuffed the chills down Belle's throat as she turned on her heels and fled the kitchens, out into the hallway. She was grateful for this much-needed distraction. She thought she could use a moment alone to herself.
Once alone in the hallway, Belle felt the tension in her muscles relax a bit. Belle clutched at herself as it was fairly cold in the dimly lit corridor as she felt her feet move as if by rote memory towards the spare closet.
She prayed she would find some grains to bowl for a porridge. She knew she would not feel right sending the old woman on her way without a hot meal in her belly to warm her and tide her over until she came to the next point in her pilgrimage. Wherever she happened to be going.
Her thoughts were so transfixed upon the woman she had escorted inside the castle walls, that she did not realize a figure lurking in the shadows, following her every movement.
Belle furrowed her brows into a frown as she nervously peeked over her shoulder, one hand on the knob of the door to the storage closet. She could not quite shake the strange sensation that she felt eyes on her, as though someone or something was watching her, despite having left the old woman in her place.
She had assumed herself to be alone in the hall, given how late the hour was, the other servants were hopefully sound asleep in their beds, save for her. It was an uneasy feeling, one that she was far too embarrassed to share with her new guest.
Surely, she tried to tell herself, she was just being foolish. She was only behaving so skittishly due to this being her first night in an unfamiliar place, and this place, for better or worse, was about to become her home for the foreseeable future. Even still, something of the strange beggar woman felt 'off' to her, and Belle could not exactly put her finger on why she felt so uneasy around her now.
Was she a wise fairy crone in disguise having come to help her, was that it? Like the fairy godmothers from the fairy stories that she loved to read so very much. Despite the beggar woman's seemingly kind words to her thus far throughout their brief interaction, Belle felt as though she could not quite trust her, and she despised the feeling towards a poor soul whom she'd never met before.
Yet, the more cautious and practical aspect of her nature was practically screaming at her, chiming little warning bells in Belle's mind to be careful. Even now, as she gazed over her shoulder and squinted her eyes into the darkness, struggling to see, Belle saw no one. No one and nothing in her sight. But she still felt eyes on her. She shivered. It was dark. Anyone could be hiding out there, waiting for her, watching her.
What if it's the Prince? She thought wildly and bit down on her lip. She suddenly shook her head, frustrated, and let out a deep breath.
"You are being foolish, Belle, there is nothing out here watching you and there is no one else awake. No monster waits in the shadows waiting to whisk you away. This isn't a book you are reading, this is real life, and things like that do not happen in real life," she whispered hoarsely to herself and hurriedly opened the door of the storage closet. Belle was pleased when she found a small sack of grains she could boil, she could make the beggar woman a nice hot bowl of porridge before sending her on her way when the storm had passed them on by. Belle clutched the small sack close to her heart and walked at a leisurely pace, her mind dwelling on thoughts of the strange beggar woman.
As she did so, she let her fingertips smooth over the cold stone of the castle's hard stone walls, the frigid cold of the stone seeped into her fingertips and very nearly chilled Belle.
She paused and let out a slow and shaky breath once she drew closer to the kitchens, wanting a moment alone with her thoughts before speaking with the old woman once more. Belle furrowed her thinly plucked brows into a frown as she was unsure where this pit of uneasiness in her stomach was coming from. Though her moment of peace was not to last, as from somewhere behind her, she heard the faint noise of what sounded an animalistic growl, almost wolfish. It was the same sound the Prince had made in the nightmare that had roused her from sleep, shortly after the man had turned.
Belle froze. Suddenly, her heart was in her throat and her ears were burning.
Oh, no. Oh, please, no. Not this. Not now. Anything but this. Oh, please, God. Please let this not be true. She pleaded. But as usual, her prayers to God were met with silence.
She felt all the color drain from her face as her lips parted as if she meant to speak, to say anything in hopes of supplicating the other person's temper at having discovered her wandering the castle halls, out of her bed.
But nothing came out save for a breathy little squeak, a truly pitiful attempt at speech. Belle nearly screamed and jumped out of her skin when someone from behind her spoke, and she thought she could hear the sound of approaching footsteps, though they were heavy, unlike any she had ever heard before. The steps did not sound human.
"What are you doing out here at this hour?" growled a hoarse voice that immediately stuffed the chills down Belle's throat. She knew that voice.
It could only belong to one man, and she had met him tonight.
A chill ripped through her and she tried not to shudder in angst. It was the Prince's voice, acrid and laced with loathing and what she recognized as pure hostility. Belle gingerly turned on her heels and clutched the sack of grains close to her chest, though she felt her body stiffen. She was fully prepared to pelt it at the Prince if he thought to get it into his mind to attempt to frighten her, or even worse, attempt to take advantage of her in what was a frightening scenario.
She frowned when her gaze was met with nothing but darkness, though in the furthest corner of the nearly deserted hall, she thought she could see an unnaturally tall figure shifting rather oddly in the darkness. He was not far from her current position now, and she realized with a jolt, that this was the Prince.
But… something of the man's shadow was off. Twisted and warped, distorted. Belle furrowed her brows and took a hesitant, cautious step forward, the skirts of her nightgown and dressing robe billowing behind her slightly as she moved.
He spoke to her from the shadows and he made no move at all to step forward.
Belle nearly jumped when his hoarse voice rent the air as a harsh barking shout.
"Answer me!" he shouted, and she swore the very floor beneath her vibrated.
"I—I was just…" Belle stammered, her voice trailing off as her mind could not even form proper thoughts. Her tongue suddenly felt like heavy clay in her mouth and when she licked her lips to moisten them, her tongue was dry. A shudder ripped through her at hearing the hoarseness of the Prince's voice, seething with anger and fury that was directed solely at her.
She hesitated and her gaze was fixated on the man's shadow and her eyes caught sight of something odd. Well, rather, his shadow was odd.
She did not know what on earth had become of the Prince, but Parisian men did not possess a set of twisting and winding horns atop their heads.
Belle might have been a fanciful woman by nature and a daydreamer at heart with her head in the clouds, but she knew enough to tell fiction from reality, and what she was seeing now most certainly had to be a trick, her mind playing a cruel joke upon her.
"Wh—is there…" she fumbled over her words, and her voice held a slight stutter to it, likely from her nervousness. But her growing fear only seemed to anger the Prince further.
"Say nothing more. Not one word. You wish for me to step from the shadows, don't you? I see it from here, it is in your eyes, you too would look upon the Duke's monstrous cursed son. But I will not have it, I will not allow anyone, least of all you, to see me…like this," he snarled, the man's hoarse voice oozing with contempt, self-hatred, and wallowing in pity.
"C-cursed? I don't…I never…" Belle started to say, though she was quickly cut off by the sound of the Prince emanating a low and tense vicious-sounding growl from deep within his chest. She shivered and became rooted to her spot out of paralysis and fear as the man's shadow moved, deeper into the darkness.
A million and one thoughts ran through her mind, though for reasons she could not explain, she wanted in her mind a moment to linger, she wanted to see him. She was overcome with curiosity as to why the Prince was hiding now.
"I am not afraid of you," Belle blurted out, cringing as the words left her lips as she realized how clumsy and blunt her words sounded. A shiver ripped through her as she heard the Prince let out a morose chuckle and she immediately imagined the man smirking at her.
"You truly wish to look upon me, girl?" she heard the Prince breathe almost in a breathless sounding voice as though the man were having trouble believing it. She did not understand, but her curiosity was far too great and the Prince had already caught her wandering about.
Hiding was pointless, she realized with a sinking feeling in the pit of her churning belly. She could only pray that whatever scornful words or harsh punishment the Prince would inflict upon her, he would do so quickly, and she was eager to return to the old woman.
"I—I do." Belle tried to keep her voice as level-headed as possible, though she knew the Prince had heard the faltering crack and dip in her voice, for she had heard it now as well.
She almost heard the Prince pause as he exhaled loudly, though whether out of annoyance, frustration, or defeat, she could not tell.
"So be it, girl. You wish to look upon the monster that I am? Fine. Something tells me you would stay out here all night talking my ear off if I do not satiate your curiosity here and now, but you do not breathe a word of what you see here tonight, or you may very well find yourself without your tongue that surely must be hung in the middle so it can wag at both ends," the Prince angrily barked.
Belle nodded and swallowed down hard, trying to show she understood and would keep whatever secret the man seemed to be hiding from the rest of the castle staff without acknowledging his cruel and hurtful words. She would not give him the satisfaction.
Belle let out a little breath she did not even realize she had been holding as she saw a flicker of movement out of the corner of her eye.
She was given no time to react as something not human darted from the shadows of the far side of the corridor with wolf-like speed and cunning yellow eyes that made her think of a wolf and pinned her against the wall she stood in front of with a vice iron grip.
Belle squeezed her eyes shut as a sudden jolt of pain shot up and down her back from the force of the Prince shoving her against the wall. She waited a moment, willing her racing heart to relax before she summoned enough courage to dare to open her eyes.
With painstaking slowness, she slowly lifted her gaze to the Prince. She immediately wished that she had not looked at all.
Belle could not veil the gasp and reflexive gasp of horror and disgust at the horrific sight that met her eyes. When her eyes first landed on the creature that had her pinned against the wall, at first, her mind could not quite process the information. The very same strange creature from her earlier nightmare was standing in front of her. What had her pinned against the wall was no Prince, but a horrific-looking monster.
A Beast.