THE Prince sat seated at the far end of his study, shrouded in darkness, staring out at the window and out into the grounds of his castle, which were now nothing but a blanket of a white vast landscape as a fresh snowfall had blanketed the ground this morning. He stared out at the barren trees and watched as the tall dark oak trees groaned and creaked and swayed in the winds of winter.
He had always loved looking out the window when he was younger. The Prince would have been content to sit in his room or anywhere in the castle with a window and a view like this and look out at the world that existed beyond the gates that surrounded his family's castle. It had given his mind a place to go and the days would start to blur together into one another, and in the blink of an eye, before his next birthday. It helped him think of an easier, happier time in his life, before Father had left, before Mother had died, before his curse. He would think about a lot of things.
He thought of his sister, the one Mother had lost, a baby born too soon into the world and was much too small, the doctors had said the poor thing never even had a chance at life.
In the beginning, the Prince used to think about what his life might have been like had she survived, or his other family, though they never came to visit after the Enchantress cast his spell upon him.
But soon though, his memories of the happier times in his life began to fade and by the time he was twelve, he could remember very few moments of his life before the curse when he had been happy.
All he knew was his pain-filled nights as he transformed into the hideous Beast that lurked just underneath the surface of his now-human form, his servants who were all terrified of him, save for perhaps Mrs. Potts, Lumiere, and Monsieur Cogsworth. Though even to this day, he sensed that it was Lumiere who was closest to giving up on him first, since he had sent the new maid's replacement Collette away, the man had been in a right foul mood for reasons he did not understand in the slightest.
A dull aching throb pulsated throughout his head, and the Prince let out a guttural groan as he straightened his posture and attempted to get to his feet, spotting a tin chalice of ice water by the windowsill. The pain took over a portion of his brain. He always hated the headaches the mornings after his transformations and the overall soreness of his body as his bones had shifted back into place earlier this morning when dawn's first rays had crested over the horizon.
The Prince shuffled towards the tin flagon of water with painstaking slowness, grunting and wincing in pain as he did so and trying to ignore the sharp shooting pains in his arms and legs. He immediately took hold of the flagon when he reached it and splashed the icy-cold liquid onto his face.
The relief was nearly unimaginable for a moment. The Prince gasped while he felt the burning on his cheeks slowly but surely leave him. The droplets of water were playing along the stubble of his growing beard and he remembered not having shaved over the last few nights. That, he recalled, had been one of Collette's duties, but now, he supposed Belle would have to do it. Pretty Belle.
The Prince felt his teeth chatter as he continued to look out the window out at the grounds, not necessarily looking at the fresh snowfall that was coming down. His thoughts were preoccupied with his new maid and how he could keep Belle a secret from Father when the Duke came to call upon him soon.
His neck immediately began to sting with a strange heat at the thought of his pretty new maid.
When he had had her pressed against the wall last night and she had looked upon him without a hint of fear or disgust in those bewitching dark brown eyes of hers, it had taken everything within himself to resist the urge to kiss her, even in his monstrous form, he was sure the fickle girl would have resisted.
He pressed his thumb and forefinger to his nose and pinched the bridge of his nose, already feeling the beginnings of a truly monstrous migraine coming on.
However, before he could make it to sit back down in the chair he had previously been occupying, the sound of the door to his private study creaking open caused his ears to perk up at the noise, and then he heard her shaky voice and the sound nearly made him jump.
Belle, pretty Belle, the farm girl he had been imagining only a second ago, had just stepped inside his private room, likely with his breakfast, he realized.
"H-hello? I am very sorry that I am late, monsieur, I need to—oh. Is...is anyone here?" he heard her shy voice call out.
The Prince stiffened. He would recognize the young mademoiselle's voice anywhere. Though he had only had two brief conversations with her, that was beside the point.
Before the woman had time to turn to her left and see him, the Prince ducked into the shadows by the bookshelf at the far end of the room before her eyes could land on him and see him watching her.
He did not want to see her, he knew, but even as he tried to convince himself of this, he knew it was useless. He already wanted this peasant girl, for reasons that he did not understand.
Perhaps it was because be it in either form, Beast or as his normal human self, she was perhaps the first to look upon him without fear. Not since Mother had a woman look at him like this as if he were normal.
He had not felt this out of control and nervous since…he would rather not think about it. His mind felt like it was reeling. She had not left the castle, after all. He was surprised. He thought the girl would have. A fast hand found its way to his pounding head as he brushed through his matted and tangled long blond hair nervously. He did not want Belle to see him…like this.
A mess, he thought bitterly, as he pressed his back firmly against the cold stone wall. He cautiously peered around the edge of the bookshelf to look in front of his only hiding spot. And there, his new prickly little maid was, standing against the flaming red and orange light of the fireplace. Even in her new uniform, she was a stunning vision of loveliness, it almost hurt his eyes to look upon her.
Belle looked like she belonged here like she was a work of art herself. Her nervous dark eyes were scanning the spaces in front of her. She must have noticed him move. He wished bitterly that she had not. He wished for her to leave the tray on the table and leave him in peace.
It occurred to him that given his monstrous headache, he was not in the mood for company, not even with Belle, and yet, a nagging pulling in his chest tightened around his heart at the thought of her leaving. He could not send her away yet. Not when he felt like this.
His eyes flicked to the door to his study and unfortunately, she was standing right across from it. Even if he stuck to the shadows, the Prince could never slip past without Belle noticing.
"A-are you here, Your Highness?" the young woman questioned into the dark, with eyebrows raised.
The Prince stiffened at the sound of her timid voice that floated through the air toward him like a soft breeze. He did not seem to have any other choice available to him but to answer her.
A surge of anger swelled within his chest at the thought of how she would look upon him, now that he was human again. Would Belle run away from him out of disgust? Fear? Hatred?
As much as the anger within him kept rising, no matter how many images the Prince conjured in his mind of Belle running away or insulting him as the prickly maid was apt to do, he simply could not see this farm girl in that light. It did not seem right. Perhaps she was too stricken by a bout of overwhelming curiosity, and that was why she had stayed. Regardless, he heard himself answer her in a dull, flat voice.
"How kind of you to visit me, Belle. I had expected you not to come," he heard himself answer her question in a flat and cold voice as he stepped out from behind the bookshelf.
He was pleased to see the girl jump at the sound of his voice and even more startled to see him step out slowly from his hiding place from behind the bookshelf. The Prince moved across the room to stand in front of the door and now, he was aware he seemed to be guarding it. He saw the blood drain from the farm girl's face, making Belle's skin look even paler than it normally was. Her lips were pursed as she made a quick scan of him, and for a moment, the Prince inexplicably felt self-conscious of this girl's assessment of him and tried to convince himself he neither looked nor smelled funny.
"You are late, Belle. Five minutes," he grunted.
"I—I was lost, sir. It will not happen again." Her voice was shy and almost a whisper.
He nearly had to stop himself from smiling as he silently marveled at how this prickly farm girl could now be so timid of him that he was human again when earlier, she had not been hesitant to voice her opinions when he had confronted her about her runt of a dog.
"Lost?" he chuckled. "How can you possibly be lost, pretty Belle? This castle is your home now, you have said it yourself that you have nowhere else to go. I expect my maid to know her way around."
He felt his legs begin to walk slowly towards Belle as she hesitantly set his meal down on the prepared place setting she presumed was to be his, his eyes never leaving her face. The Prince strategically placed his arms behind his back, not wanting to lunge at the girl without giving her prior notice, though a strange fiery heat began to seep through his insides. He was stricken with a desire to touch her, but even now, there was an invisible barrier erected between them in the form of his wicked brute father.
He could not let the Duke learn of Belle's loveliness. The Prince's eyes never left Belle's face as she drew in a breath and wet her tongue, unknowing of the effect it had on him.
They were but a foot away from one another now, and to the Prince, this prickly little farm girl from some hovel of a village he could not manage to pretend to care about was even more beautiful up close.
He wondered where this one had been hidden away from for so long, and if he would have known of her whereabouts, he would have had her whisked away from her wretched village ages ago, simply to be near her warmth.
"I'm sorry to have bothered you this morning, you seem…" Belle hesitated and turned her back towards him and looked towards the door, as though she thought if she wished hard enough, the door would open of its own accord as if by magic, and there would be her escape route. "…ill." Was all the farm girl said to him.
The Prince scowled, picking up on the twinge of unease in the young maid's voice, and he moved his hand to cover hers which was gripping onto the backrest of the chair by his meal. He nearly shuddered.
Her fingers were ice cold and he said as much.
"Pretty Belle, your fingers are like ice." His voice, though hoarse and his throat sore from how he had screamed himself raw in the early hours of this morning when his body had transformed back to normal, was calm and resolute. He was unable to explain the warmth and peace that wallowed in his chest now that the lovely Belle was here. He felt his hand move of its own accord as he slipped her hand, so cold and pale and perfect, into his palm. He covered the farm girl's hand with a foreign sense of delight. "Please. Let me keep them warm for you."
His ears perked up at the sound of her breathing quickening and he cherished the feeling of how smooth her hand was and marveled at how small the delicate appendage was.
Against his callouses and cuts from where he had bit and scratched himself last night and all the other nights before during his transformations to help keep his mind sane, he felt at peace.
Though that peace was not to last as Belle had not anticipated the sudden move that he would make to hold her hand and quickly shook his hand away and recoiled.
Her cheeks burned a deep cherry red as she blushed, though she turned her head to the side so the Prince could not see it, though he did catch a glimpse of her furrowed brow and how those dark chocolate eyes of hers were looking disturbed at how he had just boldly held onto her hand. The Prince gritted his teeth and looked towards the fireplace in frustration, his now empty hand furling into a fist.
It was a moment before Belle awkwardly cleared her throat and still keeping her back paraded to him, she spoke.
"Will Princess Circe be joining you this morning for breakfast, Your Highness?" Belle asked him in too flat a voice that was lifeless, watching intently as the Prince's expression soured at the mention of the witch.
The edges of his mouth turned down in a frown, and it took everything within himself not to throw his plate of food at the insufferable peasant girl now seated across from him for daring to mention that disgusting witch, that heathen priestess.
That meddling witch had no right to show herself to this girl. Father should have had her hanged when he had the chance, the Prince thought angrily to himself and raked his fingernails down the sides of his armchair in rage.
By a miracle, the Prince managed to find his voice, though he was unable to stop the tremble of rage from seeping its way unbidden to the surface of his voice as he coldly replied.
"If she has the will for it yes, though I doubt you will see her anytime soon. Perhaps not for a few days, she…gets in strange moods. She tends to…wander off, like you," he growled, hissing his words through gritted teeth as he realized that was yet another aspect of his curse he hoped to keep secret from her.
Thankfully, Belle seemed to pick up on the mood that he was not of a mind to discuss the witch, for she dropped the matter and did not mention her again, for which the Prince was grateful she let it go.
But what she said next, he could not have fathomed it, and it nearly made him erupt into a tantrum.
"I—I should go now, I'm sorry to have disturbed you."
Every single fiber of the Prince's body protested. Not even a moment ago, he was almost in heaven, where he felt numb to all of the hurt that had been plaguing him since Father's last visit, and now, his ticket to that feeling, that happy place, was about to abandon him again.
The Prince felt an ugly shift within himself as he nearly growled restraining himself, and quicker than he thought possible, he locked the prickly farm girl in his scope and bolted to stand in front of the door, and Belle trapped in this room with him until he gave her leave.
She gasped as her nearly frantic stride accidentally met the wall of his chest, and she jumped back with a light pink blush covering her face as she clamped a hand over her mouth, shocked by his boldness.
"You will stay, I have not finished with you yet! You may leave only when I permit you to do so!" the Prince all but shouted at her as loud as his lungs could muster and as much as his hoarse voice would allow him. He was pleased to see, at least, that his command affected his new maid, for she nodded and jumped back, away from the study's door.
He could practically see the fine hairs on the back of her neck standing and as he stepped away from the door and took her by her forearm, he could feel her tremble beneath his touch.
The edges of his mouth turned down into a scowl as he guided her forcefully to the chair opposite his in front of the place setting and bid her to sit.
"Sit," he growled. "You just got here, Belle. I would have you stay and keep me company while I eat," he growled.
His eyes widened as he felt a surge of almost selfish possessiveness swell within him at the thought that this might be one of the few opportunities he would have to speak to this prickly farm girl alone before his father was due to arrive. And after that, his attentions would be so preoccupied with suffering through the worst of the Duke's visit that he would likely not see Belle or speak to her for several days.
He still needed to hide her away, but he would fret over just where much later on. He could tell that Belle did not want to, but as he was the master of the castle, she had no choice but to comply.
Awkwardly, she pulled out the chair and sat down nervously across from him, wringing her hands as she did so.
"You are my new maid, girl, you do not leave until I give you the freedom to do so," he growled, studying her suspiciously over the chalice of his cup as he lifted the cup to his lips and drank a hearty sip of water. The drink was ice-cold and soothed his flaming throat going down. He waited to speak again until he had finished his drink, and was pleased to see she immediately reached across the table to refill it for him, but she did not look at him as she busied herself with refilling his glass. "Do you not think that we should get to know more of each other, Belle?" he asked her, doing his best to keep his tone casual.
She was his maid. She could not leave him. Not now.
Belle inclined her head and nodded. "Yes."
"Yes, Your Highness," he corrected, annoyed, with a slight bark to his voice that made Belle look up in surprise. He snorted through his nose and made a face as he brought a small strip of bacon still dripping in oil to his lips and bit off a chunk. "This is not like Cogsworth at all, to send me a low-born girl, a farm girl, no less, and one who does not even know how to address a Prince properly. I am a member of the royal family, and you will address me with the respect that is owed to me, is that clear?" he snapped, narrowing his eyes in suspicion as her lips parted but yet, no sounds came forth. The Prince smirked.
He had successfully stunned her into silence, it seemed. Heat rushed to the brunette's cheeks as she gaped at him, but after a moment, she managed to find her voice again. When she did speak, her tone was clipped, as though she were biting back speaking the truth to him but had thought better of it now.
"Yes, Your Highness," she answered through gritted teeth. "You have made your point clear, my apologies, sir, it will not happen again, I can give you my word it will not," she answered, speaking softly.
"Good," he grunted, though he almost growled restraining himself from getting up from his chair, striding around the edge of the table, and touching her again, though he knew he wanted to experience the same sensation again from last night.
He studied her curiously for any hint in her eyes that she was afraid of him, that she meant to flee, but he could detect none. He found himself taken aback and surprised, but was careful to keep his tone disinterested as he brought up the notion that he had fully expected that she would leave him.
He looked her over with a quick flicker of his eyes and scowled. He curled his fingers inwards, stopping himself from reaching and touching her right then and there.
"You are either very brave or very stupid to remain here in the castle after what you saw last night, I had fully expected that you would flee this morning," he continued. "And don't think I've forgotten the fact that I caught you in the halls wandering in the witching hour. Why were you out of your room?"
It was clear by the flabbergasted expression on his new maid's face that Belle had not anticipated he would ask why she was outside her rooms when she should have been asleep.
She bit down on her lip and began to fidget in her chair.
"I—I was just…" She paused, needing a moment to collect herself. "I could not sleep, Your Highness, I had a nightmare and needed fresh air to help me think." She cringed as the half-lie left her lips, but given his already sour mood, Belle thought it was best not to bring up the strange old woman and her even stranger rose. He would surely only chastise her further and call her a silly foolish girl for entertaining the idea that she believed the old woman was magic. She continued, remembering she owed the Prince an answer. "I was not wandering the halls of your home looking for you or intending to snoop, and please forgive me when I say that it is not fair of you to say that I am either brave or stupid. You do not know me. Perhaps I'm neither. Perhaps I have stayed in the castle because I told you the truth." She paused to draw in a breath and hesitantly lifted her gaze to him, and the Prince was met with such exasperation that for a moment, he could hardly stand it at all. "I spoke the truth when I told you that I have nowhere else to go, that I would much rather live here in your castle as your maid than go back to my village and dare to marry Gaston. I cannot, I will not go back home except for..." she said timidly, her voice trailing off as she cut herself off, looking away from him and falling silent just then.
The Prince arched both brows but did not voice the question that was burning on the tip of his tongue as he bit off another piece of bacon, taking his time and chewing his bacon slowly before swallowing it and answering her. It was clear by the expression on the prickly maid's face, she did not care for this Gaston.
"Except for what? What is it you are not sharing? Tell me," the Prince grunted, recognizing all too well that she was keeping something a secret from him. He straightened his posture as he leaned forward in his chair, studying the girl's face intently for any hint that she intended to try to flee the castle.
At any hint of a lie. He watched as she seemed to falter in decision as her lips parted but it took her a moment or two to manage to find her voice, and when she did, her voice was so soft, if he had not already been hanging onto her every word, he felt certain that he would have missed it completely.
She kept her gaze averted from him, as though to keep whatever expression she truly wore out of his line of sight, and this irked him more than he cared to admit.
"Nothing that you need to trouble yourself over, Your Highness. It merely concerns a promise I made to someone, but it is not your concern. I doubt the lives of the peasants you oversee are of much interest to you anyways," she blurted out before she was even aware of what it was that she was saying to him.
Only when she looked up and saw the Prince's face flush in anger did she realize she had said something inappropriate. If it was at all possible, her blush darkened and she stumbled over herself as she rose to her feet, trying to leave, again not realizing her proper place in that he had not yet dismissed her.
"Forgive me, Your Highness, I did not mean to make aspirations against your character, i-it's just that…no one in the village has seen you since the Duchess—" She fell silent and huffed in frustration as she was met with nothing but a blank stare from the Prince in return. She fell silent and continued the nervous wringing of her hands that only worsened as the heavy silence lingered in the air between them.
The Prince was quiet for a moment before he spoke, willing his temper to cool before addressing this farm girl who continuously seemed to have a talent for trouble and forgetting her place. He pursed his lips as he rose from the table. He began to walk slowly towards her, staring into her eyes with a strange ache that made her heart lurch, and she fumbled again over her shy apology but nothing came to mind.
"Father never permitted me outside the walls following the witch casting her wretched spell on me, and while we are on the subject, I presume you've heard the gossip among your new fellow staff members this morning that the Duke is coming. I would…appreciate it if you made yourself as scarce as possible during that time. I will manage on my own, it is your safety that I care for, Belle." He sneered at seeing his new maid's face drain of color, but before she could open her mouth to speak, he continued, not letting her get a word in edgewise. "Despite what you think of me, I am not as monstrous and heartless as my father, and I would see you kept safe even if it means I have to lock you away in chains in my dungeons, then so be it. If that keeps you from wandering off. If it means I have to call you my prisoner instead of my maid, then I will. Father has a fondness for pretty women, and the way I can already see him looking at you in my mind, I think that he'll hurt you, whether you realize it or not."
He could tell that his words and the curtness of his tone had hit their mark. Belle was doing her best to keep her expression blank, but he could see that he had stunned her. She jutted out her chin slightly defiantly and glared at him, challenging him. The Prince felt his blood start to boil at her angry look.
"I am not afraid of your father, Your Highness. And you should not be either. I can see that you are."
The Prince stared hard at his prickly maid, his blue eyes turning more troubled than angry the longer he looked upon her.
"You should be, Belle. You have not met him, and for your sake, I hope that you never do." His voice was softer, more subdued. The Prince stared at Belle, searching the young woman's gaze for any sign that she was afraid. When he could again find none, he huffed in frustration and turned away. "Go, leave, and be quicker the next time I need of you," he growled, motioning towards the brass call bell near his chair.
Belle nodded and the Prince had the satisfaction of seeing his new maid startled, just for a moment, but before he could say anything, she turned on her heels and headed towards the door, leaving the Prince to stare after her retreating figure.
As he watched her go, he felt his sour mood return as her fading footsteps equaled the deadening of the peace in his soul. He realized that Belle was tougher than anyone would have thought and gave her credit for it, recognizing her courage to talk back to him.
"Belle, a moment. Do you believe in love?" he blurted his question out of the void, hoping that her answer would help alleviate the pressure in his chest.
"Yes."
His admittedly odd question caused Belle to stop by the door, a hand on the knob in mid-twist. He turned his head a quarter so his prickly new maid could only see the side of his face.
The Prince purposefully kept his eyes cast down and locks of his golden hair hung in front of his face like a curtain, shielding his dead-inside expression from her.
"Don't believe in it. In love."
"What…?" She stared. He could tell that once again, he had rendered his new maid speechless. "Why?"
The Prince's lips twitched as he fought back a smirk. He could almost read the girl's expression like an open book. He wanted to tell her the truth. That the world was a dark cruel place where the notion of love did not exist, only in the fairy stories parents told their children at night or wrote down in books.
But he could already tell just by their previous conversation, and how there was a sudden sadness in her dark brown eyes whenever her father was mentioned. She had grown up surrounded by it, with her father and mother, whom he presumed too was dead as not once had this farm girl mentioned her mother. He knew that to her, love was not a made-up concept, not something to hope for, to wish was real. The Prince knew that Belle firmly believed that love was real. But he never believed in it.
I don't have it, Belle, is what he wanted to say, but his throat had tightened and prevented him from saying it. He swallowed the truth and instead, he flung venom at his new maid in a moment of self-pity.
"Because love is stupid, and it does not exist. Go. Leave. Do not make me say it a second time."
He did not even need to look to know that she had left, that she did not need to be told a third time. He heard the sound of the doorknob turning and the door gingerly closing shut behind him, and then Belle was gone, leaving him staring after her. The Prince scowled and closed his eyes, yet his eyes did not let him see darkness, but instead, images of Belle's face, her almond-shaped eyes wide and round with wonder. He thought he could be perfectly happy if she was looking at him, but then, he angrily began to wonder if there was another young man back home aside from this Gaston who held Belle's heart.
The Prince rang the call bell impatiently, his sour mood growing worse as the room felt instantly ten degrees colder, which made all the more sense now that Belle had left the room.
He needed to give Lumiere another task. He needed to know where his prickly maid went, what she did during her spare time, and the people she kept company with.
He wanted the assurance that she would be his maid and his alone, and if that meant that he would have to keep her locked away in the dungeons until Father left the castle after his visit, then so be it.
He would keep her locked away where Father could not find her. She was his maid now and there was no chance that he was ever giving this prickly little farm girl back. She had seen him in his cursed form and was not afraid of him, and that in it proved that she was a rare specimen indeed.
The Prince looked up as Lumiere appeared in the doorway, winded, but calm as he strode into the room and awaited his orders. The Prince let himself smile.
Given enough time, Belle would come to thank him for it.