AN urgent rapping on her door snatched her mind and her senses from her dreams. Belle bolted upright from her slumber, which had been deep but admittedly not very peaceful. Flashes of images of her dreams flitted through her mind, more like fragmented thoughts than actual dreams, but they stuck with her.
The Prince and Gaston fighting, the blood that she swore she could still smell made her nostrils flare and her stomach lurch. And then…his genuine smile, when he had smiled at her in the library suggested there was perhaps more to him than what he allowed his servants to see. Belle hastily got out of bed and padded over to her wardrobe.
She wasted no time dressing in a white blouse and a dark pink skirt. It would not be much, and she wished she had something a bit nicer to pay her respects to LeFou, but it would have to do. She was lacing up her boots and trying to grab her coat by the door when it opened. She looked up, surprised, to see a tall guard stepping in.
Henri, she thought his name was.
"Forgive me, mademoiselle, for the intrusion at such an early hour, but the master, he seeks you in the Courtyard, and he's sayin' that you've been takin' too long, my lady," he muttered, the guard's voice gruff and unfriendly.
Belle nodded and was grateful that the guard did not linger long. Only when he was gone from her room and the door shut behind him did she quickly pull her coat tighter over herself for warmth.
Once out in the Courtyard, she spotted the Prince quickly enough, standing patiently with his hands clasped behind his back. As she nervously approached him along the snow-covered ground, the Prince turned to her with a strained smile that did not quite meet his wintry blue eyes.
Belle stared, her lips parted slightly in confusion, unable to return the smile. Instead, she swallowed.
"You are up on time, Belle, I am surprised. I thought that perhaps you might have changed your mind about going," he acknowledged with a grunt. "Which is favorable today. Let's get this over with, attending your peasant wedding is admittedly the last thing I wish to do so, but it is important to you, and I go merely for the favor you owe me, Belle, don't think that I have forgotten my prize," he said.
Belle shivered as she folded her arms across her chest and did her best not to look troubled by whatever it was the Prince had been ruminating over this morning and likely last night for all she knew.
"What is it you would ask of me?" Belle stared, horrified and feeling sick, as his smile widened.
"Dinner, mademoiselle, is my favor owed for accompanying you to your wretched village. My room shall suffice for tonight, I believe," he drolled as Belle stared at him, startled and quite alarmed by the nature of his request.
This was admittedly not what she had been expecting the Prince would ask. Belle leaned closer to the Prince, perhaps closer than she should have, just to get a better look at the man's blue eyes.
But there was no malice or ill intent that she could detect within, and this only puzzled her further.
This man was an enigma, both the Prince and the Beast, one that she could not put together, and she was not so sure she liked that about him. Perhaps the hesitation was written all over her face, for the Prince's eyes seemed stuck on her lips, and a shadow flitted across the man's angular features as he cradled his bandaged arm with his one good arm and scowled, the edges of his mouth turning down into a frown.
"You did promise me anything I asked of you, Belle," he murmured. "So? Will you keep your word, Belle?"
Belle stared, unable to form a coherent reply. For a few seconds, she was even sure her heart seemed to stop beating and it took her a moment to find her voice again.
"I—Your Majesty, I can't—we can't—it—it is not proper—"
But to her surprise, he smiled. "I am not asking you for another kiss, Belle, or anything that would make you even more uncomfortable. Just dinner. My chambers tonight. I wish to be alone away from the prying eyes and eavesdropping ears of my servants. Or worse. Father."
He crinkled his nose in disgust and pulled a face, but then his expression grew somber once more as he waited for Belle to reply to his invitation to dinner.
Belle hesitated.
"I—well, I...I suppose I could eat a small bite. In that case, I would love to join you for dinner, Your Highness," she assented as she looked over the Prince with a speculative frown.
She was pleased to see that at some color had returned to the man's cheeks following his transformation this morning, and he was no longer swaying on his feet and in danger of passing out now that she'd mended his arm. Everyone had warned her of him, how the nobleman was not a man to be trifled with. But there was nothing of the Prince that seemed dangerous at this moment, not his long blond hair that he had not bothered to pull back into a low ponytail, or his muddied black boots.
His shirt underneath his coat was askew, bunched, and wrinkled in different places. She smiled.
It looked as though for this outing this morning, he had attempted to change into something he deemed 'commoner's garb', and had given up halfway through because the effort was too much.
Belle realized his shirt was white and complimented her own. She was certain that in her time here in the castle alongside the man so far, she had never seen the Prince in any color other than black.
It was then that she remembered the Duke's father was to have arrived sometime late last night, likely after she had already gone to bed. She hesitated, not even sure she should ask this of the Prince, as there was something within her that still harbored a twinge of caution towards this Changeling man.
She despised the feeling within her heart right now. She knew it was her wariness speaking to her of all the horror stories the villagers had told of the Prince and his family, but she was pleased to see that the more time she spent around the Prince and the Beast, he was proving her suspicions wrong.
"Your father, Your Highness is he…?" she started to ask, trailing off as she watched the Prince's frown deepen, and a look of anger sparked to life behind his haunted blue eyes.
The Prince heavily scowled, annoyed with her.
"With any luck still sleeping. His carriage arrived late in the night," the Prince grunted spitefully. "Perhaps if God truly favors me, he will have died from a complaint of the heart in his sleep."
"Or maybe," came a low baritone voice that stuffed the chills down Belle's throat and nearly made her cry out in alarm as she whirled around to find themselves no longer alone. "He's waiting to see what you are doing up early, unfavorable for you, and in the company of this…simple farm girl…" a man sneered.
She looked over the tall man's face, her dark eyes widening as she arched her neck.
The man was tall enough that he cast a shadow over both of them, but he was easily one of the most handsome gentlemen Belle thought she'd ever seen, and yet, there was an air of intimidation about the man.
Belle could quickly tell by the way he carried himself that he was not a man to be trifled with.
She supposed this would certainly count as trifling, she mused.
Her resolve nearly faltered, and she almost turned to run the moment one of the man's pale grey eyes lingered upon her features longer than she would have liked, the other seemingly missing, hidden underneath a black eye patch.
The Duke was dressed smartly this morning in black leather traveling clothes, not a hint of mud could be seen on the soles of his black boots. His one good eye that she could see was slightly hooded, the dark shadow underneath it prominent. The Duke appeared not to have slept well, and the man's one eye he still possessed was waiting for a remark from his son as to what his heir was doing in the Courtyard with a maid.
Beside her, she watched out of the corner of her gaze as the Prince stiffened. When he spoke, he was barely moving his lips and looking suddenly tense and looking anywhere but at her, Belle noticed.
"Father," he murmured lowly with a curt nod of his head, though she could detect no warmth in his tone.
She shivered and flicked her gaze back towards the Duke, whose expression was impassive, and almost impossible for her to make out just what it was that he was thinking now. She did not like this one bit. As the Duke turned his attention towards Belle, she was surprised to see that he looked angry. Troubled, even. She waited patiently for the Duke to speak. But when it became clear to her after a moment that he was looking to her for an answer that he would not get from his son, she stepped forward in hopes of rectifying the tension between them.
"You should not speak to him like that, he does not deserve to be looked at and spoken to as though he's a monster, nothing but a Beast," Belle said boldly, daring to lift her chin and meet the Duke's questioning gaze.
The man quirked a brow at her and for a moment, looked startled by her outburst, but then recovered, looking to his son again. The Prince had ground his teeth in anticipation of whatever was to come next.
Belle suspected she would be paying later for her outburst, but at the moment, she was too angry to attend to much of anything else other than the Prince's father. His one eye was cold and severe as he fixed the Prince with a look of daggers that would have had him pinned, had the Duke the capability.
"So, she knows then. And who is this…contumelious wench, boy? Every time I come home, you have got a new girl working for you. What about the other one? Of Collette? That was her name, yes?" the Duke asked, leering.
"Gone, Father, she will not be returning," the Prince snapped, his face flushing as he curled his hands into shaking fists, resting them at his side. He looked as though he wanted to hit his father, but of course, he could not do so without suffering dire consequences, so, he thought better of it.
The Duke paused a moment and looked back towards Belle.
"Your name, girl?" he asked, sounding thoroughly unimpressed by the Prince's answer. "What is it? Speak."
"Belle, Your Highness," she muttered in a flat voice and only curtsied to the man when the Prince shot her a rueful look full of scorn. The Duke smiled coldly as his one good eye made a quick scan of her figure, and Belle tried to convince herself at that moment that she neither looked nor smelled funny. She swallowed and waited.
The Duke sniffed and made a noise of dissent through his nose.
"Of course, it is. But it is such a shame that such…beauty, is wasted on a foul mouth as yours, girl. I can see in your eyes that you fear me, but I care not what anyone thinks of me. Do not doubt for a second who you are dealing with. Or you, boy. And you have not answered my question. Where are you going?" he asked, an edge to his voice.
Belle was about to open her mouth to speak, though a slight nudge to her ribcage given to her by the Prince caused her to clamp her mouth shut and think better of it. She was surprised when he stepped forward, pausing only once to straighten his jerkin underneath his heavy winter coat.
"There is…a matter upon which calls for my presence in the nearby village of Villeneuve, Father," the Prince answered in a voice adapted by confidence over the years, though Belle thought she heard the faint warble of uncertainty threatening to seep its way to the surface of his voice. "A…a rogue hunter saw fit to give me this," he growled, gesturing towards his heavily bandaged arm with a curt jerk of his head and he continued. "I would have the man dealt with for attacking my maid. She comes with me to identify him, Father, I...did not get a good enough look at the man's face as it was dark last night," he sneered.
Belle looked up towards the Duke and saw something akin to anger flit through his eye. Telling the half-truth, the Prince and Belle both quickly learned, did not have the desired effect upon the suspicious Duke.
The Prince's words only seemed to invoke in the man a horrific rage, the likes of which she had never seen in a man before, not even in Gaston, and it frightened her.
He flicked his gaze toward Belle and she got the impression that the Prince's father was doing some very quick thinking and putting together the missing pieces. After a moment, he spoke, his voice rumbling.
"You stupid, foolish boy. You've allowed yourself to be seen?" he demanded angrily, his voice ringing in the Courtyard. "After everything that I've done for you to keep you safe and our reputation intact, you'd squander my efforts? I swear with God as my witness, boy, you would do anything to see our family ruined," the Duke snarled.
"My Lord, oh please don't blame him for this! It wasn't his fault! The fault lies with me, I was the one who was alone in the woods. Your son followed me into the woods with the intent to bring me back. We ran into the hunter last night, I did not know that I was being followed! If you are to punish anyone, then punish me for this!" Belle cried, darting forward and stepping in front of the Prince before he could pull her back. "Your son saved my life last night, if it were not for him, then I would likely be hurt or worse, dead." She let her words hang in the air between them.
"So. You have seen my son in his wretched accursed form too, it would seem. And yet you are still here," he murmured. "You dare speak out against me, girl?" the Duke scoffed as the man's face darkened as if a shadow had suddenly fallen over him. "Perhaps I should order the guards to cut out your tongue that must be hung in the middle so it can wag freely at both ends," he snarled. "Have you no sense of your place in this situation, mademoiselle, hmm? You are nothing but my son's scullery maid, nothing more, you do not have a voice in this conversation between a father and his son," he hissed through clenched teeth as his one eye narrowed at Belle in his suspicion.
"And what kind of father abandons his son when he needs him the most? You left him to a cruel and unjust fate," Belle snapped, keeping her voice cold and emotionless, ignoring the Prince's harsh angry whispers to be quiet. But she was not about to give the Duke the satisfaction of him seeing her so upset. "You have done nothing to help your son with his curse. Why have you even returned to see him after all this time away?"
Deep down, Belle knew with a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach she was going to regret her words, but nor could she stop herself from saying them either. This was perhaps her only chance to tell this man what she truly thought of him and his past actions for humiliating and harming that witch, to the point she saw fit to curse an innocent little boy. She strode towards him, her anger steadily rising. She could feel her cheeks flush with rage.
"You left him when he needed you. You are no better than the man I would have married. You have done nothing but use your son as a tool, a scapegoat for your problems from what others have told me!"
"Enough!" the Duke bellowed, his one good grey eye flashing with indignant rage. "You go too far, wench!"
Quicker than Belle thought was possible, the Duke covered the rest of the distance between them, which was roughly about seven feet, and backhanded Belle swiftly across her cheek. The pain came rushing immediately after, and the razor-sharp edges of the jeweled rings on his finger cut cleanly into her skin as they made contact.
Belle was unable to stop the cry of pain from escaping her lips as she brought a hand to her cheek that was already reddening by the force of the Duke's blow. Tears pricked at Belle's eyes but she managed to hold them at bay.
She would not allow the Prince's father to see her shed a single tear.
The Prince darted forward with anger sparking to life behind his eyes. For once, he found himself wishing that he had not yet transformed back, that he was the Beast he became without fail every night.
If he were, he could easily kill the Duke with the monstrous powerful strength he possessed as a Beast.
"Father! How dare you lay a hand against her! Belle is MY maid, not yours to punish!" The Prince snarled, the edges of his mouth curling upward to reveal his gums. "She has done nothing to you, punish me if you truly must, but do not ever lay a hand against her again!"
Belle's frightened eyes looked over at the Prince as she lowered her hand and winced as her fingertips came away slightly bloodied from where the Duke's rings had cut into her skin and left a welt.
The Duke sneered, stepping back as he stared at his son in bitter disbelief.
"Perhaps…" he murmured slowly, his voice harboring no hint of remorse or any sort of regret at what he had just done. "You had better take her home now," he growled, as Belle gingerly felt her red cheek.
Belle was surprised to see the Prince shaking with both rage and sadness as he brought up a trembling finger to caress over the welt on her cheek his wretched father had given her.
He sighed, cupping her face in his hands, and looked away sharply, a muscle in his jaw twitching.
"I'm sorry, Belle. He will not touch you again. Come," he murmured, and turned on his heel and proceeded to lead her out of the Courtyard, through the iron-wrought gates of his home, and into the woods, back to her former village.
The Duke, however, was not so kind to them in his parting words as they made to leave him.
"See to it that hunter is dealt with swiftly, boy, that he remembers nothing of seeing you," he snarled. "Or I will."
Belle shivered as she allowed the Prince to whisk her away from her new home to return to her village, still feeling the Duke's eyes on her as they fled.
Both were smart enough not to look back behind them, for they would have seen the Prince's father watching his son holding Belle's arm with a look of utmost rage in his lifeless grey eye.
BELLE was relieved to finally reach their village, as the two of them had spent the duration of their walk through the woods in a thick uncomfortable silence. She couldn't stand how loud her thoughts were in the silence that stretched between them past the point of comfort.
She was pleased with least, that with his help, she was able to keep her word to LeFou, and there was no sign of Gaston by the altar. Only once during the ceremony did LeFou look up and spotted her in the back-most row of the benches just outside of Gaston's tavern that had been set up for the affair.
She smiled at LeFou, chuckling under her breath at the look of shock in the short stout little man's dark eyes to find her here, but he should have known she would have returned, no matter what.
Belle had given her word. She watched in a daze as Gaston's best friend and the baker's daughter exchanged words of love, and rings, and sealed their new marriage with a kiss.
Belle smiled and clapped alongside the other villagers, all the while her mind was preoccupied. She was not even aware that she had gone distant and sullen as she rose alongside the other guests and moved to congratulate LeFou and Iseult. Belle's thoughts were stuck on Gaston, and why he was not here. She could not help but wonder if the man was bedridden with how the man had injured his leg in his trap.
"LeFou, my friend, congratulations. I hope that you have a long and happy marriage together," Belle gushed as she knelt into a slight crouch to hug Monsieur LeFou. She pulled back from the embrace after a moment. She was startled at the look of shock and awe brimming to life behind the man's dark eyes as he quickly moved to hug Belle, though his gaze remained fixated on the Prince, who was being spoken of in hushed whispers by the villagers.
If the Prince was at all bothered by the talk, he was careful not to show it.
Belle was pulled out of her thoughts by the sound of Monsieur LeFou's worried, shrill voice.
"Belle, i-it is so good to see you, b-but…" LeFou hesitated as he trailed off, looking up and down her form with wide, awestruck eyes. "What are the two of you doing here? If Gaston sees you…"
He did not finish his sentence, thinking there was no need. A violent chill went down his back as he remembered helping his wounded friend back to the village, Iseult calling for the doctor.
Belle shook her head, trying to send away her friend's concerns with a wave of her hand as she straightened her gait and moved to stand alongside the Prince, who was grumbling under his breath and had made it a point to pull the hood of his coat up over his head to try to conceal his features, though the damage was already done, she noticed.
"Gaston wouldn't dare hurt me when I'm with the Prince, and he would be foolish to try, LeFou. I'm safe," she whispered, careful to keep her voice low. She tilted her head to the side and smiled as she tried to showcase to him without the need for words that she would be just fine, but he did not seem to want to allow himself to believe that.
"I-if you say so, Belle," LeFou mumbled, still not looking convinced. His dark eyes were frantic and nearly wild as he looked to the left and right, searching for any sign of his friend. "He's…not been himself since we returned, he's been angry, Belle, even worse than usual. I appreciate that you're here, but you should go," he whispered, shamefaced.
He cringed as a faint pink blush found his cheeks as he tried to ignore the piercing burn of the Prince's icy blue eyes burning a hole through him from where he stood. He swallowed down hard and spoke.
"I-I had hoped he would be by my side, b-but I'm grateful that you came, Belle. It means the world, b-but…" LeFou hesitated and did not finish his thought. He was unsure whether or not to ask about her well-being as he took note of the way the Prince himself was hovering over Belle, staring at her in an almost possessive way. He shivered and held his ground. "You should go before he finds out you've come home, Belle. But before you go, h-how did this happen? The two of you seem...awfully close, Belle," he questioned, his gaze fixated on the Prince's left arm wound tightly around hers. LeFou looked at their conjoined arms and the Prince hovering over Belle with questioning eyes. Belle could feel the Prince trying to let go of her hand subtly, but she clung tightly to him. All thoughts of formality abandoned, LeFou looked to Belle eagerly, a hint of intrigue and excitement in the man's voice. "Tell me, Belle, so when did all of…this…start?" he asked, eagerly.
Belle's eyes widened and her cheeks flushed as she parted her lips as she meant to ask him what on earth he was talking about, though before she could, the Prince interrupted her, far too loudly.
"Belle!" he snapped, almost shouting her name and causing Iseult and her father standing beside him to flinch at the hoarseness of his voice. "By the looks of my arm, the bandages need changing again, walk with me, somewhere private," he commanded with emphasis on the private, a harsh bark to his voice that had not been there before.
Belle was surprised to see the Prince's face had gone paler than parchment. Concerned, she flicked her gaze down toward his bandages and was surprised to see that they were clean.
She quirked a brow at the Prince, about to call him out on it, but the Prince did not give her a chance as he darted forward and wound a hand around her wrist, and pulled her forward. Belle did not attempt to speak to the Prince until they were well out of earshot of the crowd, and she watched wistfully as LeFou held Iseult's hand.
She smiled a sad smile as they waved and turned away to dance with each other, and though she was happy for her friend, she still could not quite shake the feeling that she did not think she would ever see LeFou or his bride again.
Belle sighed tiredly as she began to lead him towards her old home, thinking the Prince was not in his element, dressed for his estate rather than Monsieur LeFu's rustic wedding.
To see him among the throng of commoners as she began to lead him away to her and Papa's old home was so perfectly out of place that she almost smiled. He certainly turned a few heads.
She could tell that the Prince wanted to pull away from her, but he did not dare now that the eyes of over half the village were on him. Together, Belle was sure that the two of them stood out like a pair of swans in a throng of barnyard chickens. His lips pursed in a sense of prickly mortification as she hurriedly led him up the path to her father's home, a pang in her heart as she saw the state of the door. One of the windows had been broken, the shutters ripped clean off their iron hinges, and the door was broken down.
She had a terrifying thought of Gaston breaking in and ruining what was left of their home when the man had likely discovered her missing, or perhaps he was even laying in wait for her now.
Belle felt something shift within herself just then, a desire to protect the Prince as he had protected her, and she knew that she could not let the man be hurt. Not by Gaston or anyone else if she could at all help it.
"Wait here, I need to make sure it is safe for you," she pleaded, ignoring the Prince's hoarse protests that she does not go inside.
Belle tried to ignore the little ache in her stomach at the thought of Gaston hurting this man.
The Prince was proving himself to be not the Beast that he turned into come nightfall, not the monster the villagers spoke of in hushed tones. The thought of Gaston or anyone else killing the Prince was not something she was willing to entertain. If that happened, then she would have no home to go to, no place to truly call her own, and then she would be left with no choice but to marry Gaston. That unpleasant thought did not sit well with her at all. Perhaps it was a selfish one, but one that Belle could not let go of, and the thought was enough to give her some courage as she gingerly crept toward her broken door.
As she quietly entered the room and found it dark, musty, and empty, with only a few pieces of furniture remaining upright, the rest laying in broken or discarded heaps, she was not sure when it started. This horrible suffocating feeling of panic was all too familiar to her since her father had passed away.
She had hoped to put this feeling behind her now that she had a new life in the castle alongside the other servants serving the Prince, but it still managed to somehow rear its ugly head and find her. The walls of her own home where she had grown up suddenly seemed to close in around her and she turned to leave only to spot the Prince having disobeyed her quiet plea to stay put and was watching her in the doorway.
Belle swallowed down hard and tried to shoot an unconvincing smile of reassurance to her master. But before she could side-step him to step back outside, the Prince was by her side before she could even make it ten feet.
Belle looked up at him in surprise, not having expected that the Prince would behave in a manner of concern towards her, or much less give off any other indication that he cared for her.
"We should be gone from this place, Belle, it is too much for you, being back here, isn't it?" the Prince grunted, the faintest notes of worry seeping its way into his voice.
He wound his arm around hers and turned on his heels preparing to lead her outside.
The simple gesture was almost gentlemanly and it grounded her instantly. Belle smiled nervously at the Prince and reached up to tuck a wisp of her bangs that had fallen in front of her eyes.
It seemed that the Prince had anticipated she would suffer this.
"Your Highness, please. I-I just need some air," she stammered, suddenly too shy to meet his gaze. "I will be fine, I can assure you. Please. Just give me this time. I won't be long," Belle tried to soothe and supplicate his temper.
She thought that her words were true. She just needed a moment of cold winter air and to be outside of these walls that now held no more happy memories for her and they likely never would.
The Prince did not look at all convinced but he begrudgingly let go of Belle's hand and allowed her to leave her own home, muttering to himself that he would be waiting for her by the edge of the village.
It was clear he was eager to leave and return to his own home.
Without second thoughts, Belle slipped out the back door of her home and the moment she stepped outside, she inhaled the frigid winter air around her as though it were her first taste of oxygen after being submerged under deep murky water. She did not even feel the cold at first. All she could focus on was how the world of their simple provincial village seemed to steady around her as she beckoned her lungs to fill in with air. Belle knew that she was living an entirely different life now, one that she could have never in a million years imagined for herself, but she thought there was nothing that would erase the stale and poisonous feelings she now harbored for her village.
Several moments ticked by before Belle realized, with surprise that it had taken her this long to notice, that she was not alone outside. She furrowed her brows in worry and concern.
At first, she thought the Prince had followed her, but then upon second glance, she realized with a jolt the man standing with his back to her was not the Prince. She looked up as the man turned around and her fear was so powerful she could not scream. Her mouth opened and she tried to call for the Prince, but nothing came out.
Gaston stood there, tall, looming, powerful, and clad entirely in his black hunting leathers. His eyes almost seemed to turn black and he tilted his head to the side. Even walking as he did now with a pronounced limp while his leg healed, he was still faster than her. As he approached her, Gaston tilted his head to the side and Belle barely managed to make out the sight of his lips curling upwards into a twisted, triumphant grin.
"Gaston, whatever you're thinking, please don't," Belle pleaded but her voice trembled.
Gaston lurched towards her with a surprising speed she had not anticipated from the hunter, given how badly he had wounded his leg the other night, and he grabbed her right arm and twisted it roughly behind her back.
Tears began to come to her eyes as she felt Gaston push her roughly forward, back towards the woods. She tried to squirm out of his grip but he was too strong.
"Hush, Belle," he whispered roughly. "I'm…very glad you've come back to your senses, Belle, but where is it? Where's the creature that nearly killed you in the woods? Has it followed you back home?" he hissed roughly into her left ear.
"Wh-what?" she cried. "Gaston, I don't…please…I never…" she started to say but he interrupted.
"Quiet, Belle, all in good time, my love. I don't want to have to hurt you, Belle, but I will if you do not cooperate with me and tell me what it is I want to know," Gaston told her softly. With surprising tenderness that almost fooled her into thinking perhaps he could change, he dragged his fingertips over her cheekbone.
Belle shivered as she felt one of his hands slide back to her hair and he tightly gripped onto her long ponytail.
"Shh…hush now..." he whispered to her again in a voice that sent a shudder of fear down her spine.
Belle did not have time to register the pain that engulfed her as he yanked her hair, pulling her head back. In one swift movement, he shoved her head towards the closest tree they stood in front of, and her forehead slammed against the rough bark of the tree trunk with a loud thud.
She let a cry leave her lips as she saw black spots beginning to blur her vision and the sticky wetness of something trickling down from a cut above her brow. Blood.
"Sleep, Belle, this nightmare of yours will be over soon enough. The vicious Beast in the woods that was stalking you will trouble you no further, love. I'm going to save you, Belle. I will be the hero you desire, Belle," he whispered and Belle's hair was yanked back again, her head slammed against the tree for a second time, harder than before.
This time, Belle felt no pain and heard no thud as she slipped into unconsciousness, but saw only black.