SHIVERING, Belle kept her hands wound around a steaming mug of tea that Mrs. Potts had brought for her and would not leave the room until the Head of House had witnessed her take a sip of it with her own two eyes. She cringed as the Prince entered the room and there was no discernible emotion in the man's features.
No anger, no fury, no nothing that she could see. His face looked blank, and that terrified Belle more than she cared to admit. She did not even need for the man to turn and face her as he stalked towards the fireplace and kept his back paraded to her to know that the Prince was angry. She could tell by the way his jaw twitched that he was.
The man looked almost menacing. A shudder went down her spine as she swallowed past a lump in her throat.
"I'm sorry, Your Highness, I...I wasn't thinking, I know that now, sir," Belle spoke in a hushed whisper, hating how exhausted she felt and her voice trembled slightly as she spoke, as though she had been crying, which, of course, she had been. "I—I did not know Gaston would be waiting for us. I—I was right to search the house, I-I just didn't e-expect him to be waiting for me around the back." She tried to chuckle, but thanks to her nerves, it sounded more like a fitful-sounding sigh.
The Prince shook his head as he turned around to face Belle, folding his arms across his chest.
Belle flinched at the way he was looking at her with that blank expression in his eyes. Almost as if she were such a disappointment to him now. As if she knew something about herself that she could not discover.
It puzzled Belle, but she had no time to ponder it further as the Prince opened his mouth and spoke harshly.
"Why did you not call for help the moment he grabbed you, Belle?" the Prince demanded, sounding angry with Belle. He furrowed his brow in confusion. The Prince could not tether an understanding to how it was that Belle seemed to continue to be so talented at finding trouble wherever she went.
Belle was not some daft girl incapable of intelligent thought, she was quite an intelligent woman, and thus, he did not understand why she had put herself in danger, for him.
Surely, Belle had to know that attempting to fight the hunter who had cornered them both in the woods was foolish.
So why had she not called for his help? Was it her pride? Did she fear that asking for his help would mean that she would lose the respect the Prince was slowly gaining for Belle?
The Prince was pulled from his conflicting thoughts at the sound of her shy voice.
"He did not know you were with me, Your Highness," Belle whispered, and the Prince was surprised to hear a frown in the farm girl's voice. "I was too far away from you to alert you without him becoming suspicious. If I'd called for you, then Gaston would have noticed. He'd have gone after you, and you're still hurt," Belle bemoaned.
Her expression twisted into a look of grief that momentarily surprised the Prince, and a selfish part of him thought he liked the look on the young brunette's face. He cherished the look of shock in the woman's dark brown eyes, knowing that he was affecting her, enough that she was concerned about him. It startled him and for a moment, the Prince found himself at a loss for words in front of this strange creature, his prickly little farm girl.
"I would have come for you, Belle, I gave you my word that you would be protected under me, and I meant it," the Prince snapped, a bark to his voice that made the young woman look up in surprise.
Her lips parted as if she meant to speak, however, she thought better of it as the man shot her an icy glower and she realized he was not done yet.
"Do not ever hesitate to call for help if you need it. Your hunter, he could have killed you, Belle, so why didn't you?" he hissed.
Belle frowned and her shoulders slumped in disappointment as she pulled the blanket that Laure had draped over her shoulders tighter. Belle sighed and looked down at her lap, ashamed.
"I—I didn't want you to get hurt. Gaston already hurt you once, I feared he would kill you the second time," she whispered, shamefaced, a fiery heat creeping to her cheeks as she felt the burn of the Prince's stare.
She heard him huff in indignation.
"I can handle your hunter, Belle. Do nothing like this ever again, do you understand me? I would rather risk getting involved than leave you to suffer that again. Do not get yourself killed for me." The Prince inched closer, looking his maid over once more with a hardened look. "Where are you hurt, Belle?" he asked, his blue eyes solemn as he held Belle in his gaze. "Tell me what he did to you, where you're hurt, and do not think of lying to me. I'll know if you're lying, Belle. Being injured isn't anything to be ashamed of, and I do not want you trying to hide anything from me just for the sake of keeping up appearances," he grunted, coming to sit in the chair next to her.
Belle shook her head. "No, I-I'm fine," she stammered, but she did not look as though she was. She seemed tired and uncertain, and of course, his maid was probably in shock, the Prince realized. "He…he put his knife to my throat," she whispered, tears filling her eyes as she sharply looked away so he could not see the tears in her eyes.
The Prince leaned forward to look at the slight gash across Belle's cheek, frowning. He did his best to try to avoid dwelling on the fact that he had never seen his maid so emotionally devastated as she was right now. Belle continued speaking to him in a low, shaking, and nervous voice that was so soft he almost would have missed it had he not already been listening intently.
"He-he wanted to know where the…the Beast was that attacked him in the woods. He thought it had followed me back home. I wouldn't tell him, but my refusing to say anything only made Gaston angrier, sir. He knew I was lying, but still, he…he hurt me." Belle tiredly closed her eyes as she wound the blanket even tighter around herself. "I'm more or less all right, Your Highness," she mumbled. "I'm just…so tired. All I want for now is to rest," she admitted.
The Prince stared at his maid and scowled, shaking his head in awe and disbelief. Was she truly so naïve to realize that the hunter would have killed her had he not shown up to put a stop to the man's cruel antics?
She seemed to have no idea what the man was capable of. He wanted to yell at the girl, to launch into a screaming tirade and command Belle never to stray so far from his side. She was proving to have a talent for trouble, indeed.
He was beginning to wonder if it would not be the worst idea to tie a rope around her waist and the other end around his wrist to prevent her from leaving his line of sight if trouble had a way of following her like it seemed to have.
He wanted to inform his maid of what monstrous atrocities she had narrowly avoided by him showing up in the woods when he had, so she would know how important it was that she not stray too far from his line of sight when they were away from the castle. Belle needed to understand, but perhaps that was a conversation best saved for later.
Right now, Belle was looking ill and miserable, and a lecture was the last thing the young lady needed now.
"Rest, then, Belle, for the rest of the night, and come morning, you will be as good as new. I cannot stay long, I am sure my father still wishes to speak to me," the Prince grunted. He tried to force a smile but it felt strained.
He loathed seeing Belle hurt in this way and hated that the hunter had taken her right from underneath his nose. It worried him, however, that his maid did not seem to understand the gravity of the precarious position she had been placed in this morning.
Belle was behaving as though this man, this Gaston, had insulted her and called her some degrading name rather than kidnapping her, tying her to a tree, and threatening her life if she did not divulge the information he wanted.
The Prince could feel his emotions raging war within him, pulling him in two different directions.
On one hand, he felt glad that Belle seemed less affected by the horrific situation than she should have been, but on the other hand, he was also upset because Belle did not understand how dangerous the world was, especially for beautiful young women.
Though Belle had been near to the point of hysterics and hyperventilating when the Prince and her short little friend downstairs had found her, she seemed now to have forgotten her previous terror and anguish.
However, the Prince knew firsthand how the desire to forget pain would be nice for his maid mentally, it would not help her to avoid these types of situations in the future. He could only pray to God that this would be the last time something like this happened. The Prince frowned and shook his head to himself. He sensed that Belle was tiring.
"Sleep, Belle. We will discuss this more at a different time altogether when you are better rested and are of a sounder mental state to answer my questions. Try to rest and God helps you if you even think about leaving this room for the rest of the day," the Prince commanded, glancing away from the fire in the hearth to look at Belle, who quickly nodded.
Though she was still quite reasonably on edge, her body shivering and prepared for another assault, Belle was entirely too exhausted and hurt to stay awake much longer. She sensed their discussion was far from over, but she supposed she could rest her eyes, if only for a moment. She leaned her head back against the chair's headrest and let her eyes close, and it was as she heard the Prince move away towards the door that a thought came to Belle.
"The-the dinner, Your Highness," she whispered, peeking open one eyelid to look in the Prince's direction. "Tonight?" she questioned with hesitance in her voice. She was unsure whether or not she could even make such a request of her monarch, but the question was out before she could stop herself from asking it. She bit down on her lip and watched as he slowly turned to face her.
The Prince grew quiet and intense, the question was written in the man's expression as for a moment, he could do nothing but stare.
"You would be up for it?" he questioned, looking doubtful as he rose a brow at her.
"Yes," Belle nodded, unaware that her tone was almost begging him. She clenched her jaw and closed her eye again. "It would help to take my mind off of what happened earlier. It would…give me something to look forward to."
The Prince almost laughed as his lips tugged upward into something resembling a grin. "You prefer the dining company of a Beast over that of the man that I am, Belle? You truly are a funny girl as your villagers say you are."
Belle sighed, though it was not a sigh of frustration or exasperation, the Prince realized, as the young brunette slowly opened her eyes to look at him, and with the hope sparkling behind her eyes and the shy smile she bestowed upon him, how was he possibly to refuse? She smiled shyly, suddenly too timid to meet his gaze, and looked down at her hands resting in her lap.
It was then that a thought came to her, something she secretly cursed herself for not thinking of before, until now.
Why her? Why had the Prince of the realm taken an interest in her, a simple farm girl, the daughter of a failed inventor, and a wife no longer living? Why was he so interested in her?
The question was ripped from her lips before she could stop herself from asking. A memory of Gaston once scorning her for asking such 'ridiculous' questions flitted through her mind just then, and Belle had trouble shaking the painful memories away.
It was a moment or two before she spoke and when she did, her voice trembled and was barely above a whisper.
"Why me, Your Highness? Tell me this before you leave, and I promise that I will not ask again. Why do you want to have dinner with me, a commoner?" Belle blurted out, her words clumsy and blunt as the question left her lips.
She left her words hanging in the air between them and watched as the blood drained from his face.
"Because…the alternative is unthinkable, Belle, and I do not like to think it," the Prince answered immediately.
Belle felt a blush creep up her cheeks. His words and his expression were sincere. No one, especially not Gaston, had ever spoken to her this way. His words were sheer poetry.
She was sure that she was looking at the man lingering by her door as though he was not real, and her suspicion of what she must look like was proven when the Prince shot her a sad smile. Belle was currently looking at him now like he was not real, as though he were nothing but a figment of her overactive and sensitive imagination.
That if she blinked, he would fade from her line of sight at any moment. It was sweet, but there was something sad about the way she was looking at him. It was almost as if she were waiting for him to reject her, to have her dismissed from the castle the moment he lost interest in her. Looking into his maid's stricken but still lovely face was like watching the world come to an end.
His heart physically hurt, and a dozen responses burned on the edge of his tongue, waiting to be spoken, but he allowed himself a moment to reflect on exactly the right thing to say to Belle right now. He knew he would have to be extremely careful with her. Her delicate condition seemed not only physical but emotional as well. The Prince spoke.
"I know how this must look to you, Belle, how…ridiculous it must be. What it looks like for me to take an interest in you. Considering the charming company that I've tended to keep over the years," he grunted with a hint of disdain. "But the truth of the matter is, that I am alone. I'm alone, and half of my time is spent trapped in this bloody castle," he scowled heavily, briefly tearing his gaze away from Belle's intense stare and glaring at the walls of her room. It was clear he viewed his family's ancestral home as little more than a prison, as she had once viewed her small, provincial village. "Father expects things of me that I have never wanted for myself. The things that I do want were always met with scorn and disapproval by my father."
He looked across the room at her, almost praying that he would see something in the young woman's face that would mirror his troubled thoughts. Whether she was aware of it or not, they were more like than perhaps she knew. But she would be, in time, he was certain of that much. He breathed out a breath and continued.
"You are the first besides Father to see me suffering from my…my 'furry little problem,' shall we call it, and you did not run from this place—from me—out of fear or disgust. You have exceeded my expectations of your character and you have kept my secret. I think…I think that you might be one of the only people in my life to understand what I've gone through. What I continue to go through. This loneliness, this sadness, even, and I've lived in this castle all my life, Belle. You, you've only been here a few weeks. I think you might be one of the only people who know what it feels like to be surrounded by crowds of people and yet still be profoundly alone. When we were attending your friend's wedding, I saw the way your former villagers looked at you. I think, Belle, that is the reason that you came to the castle truthfully, not just to escape your hunter. I think that you are tired of being alone, Belle. And so am I."
The Prince shrugged his shoulders, surprised at how easily the truth seemed to leave his lips when around this girl. "To answer your question, Belle, I don't have a name for what this is, what might be…happening between us. It is something new for both of us, and I cannot and will not make you any promises as to what the future holds. Even if I could, much can change as time marches on," the Prince grunted bitterly. "But…I asked you to dinner and I came with you today because I wanted to be near you, for that reason and that reason alone. Because…I think I like you. Does that alleviate your concerns, pretty Belle?" he asked her, his voice holding a slightly teasing lilt as he waited expectantly for her to speak, gauging her reaction.
He watched her curiously as some of the tension in Belle's shoulders seemed to dissipate as he gave his answer.
She nodded shyly and reached up to tuck that one stubborn wisp of her bangs that always fell forward in front of her eyes back behind her ear where it belonged.
"Yes, sir, it does. Well enough, for now." She smiled up at him then, and the shy sweet smile Belle graced him with was one the Prince hoped to cherish. He wished he could bottle it into a tiny glass vial and keep it close to his heart for warmth. He selfishly wanted it—and her—to be his and his alone.
His lips twitched into a sad little smile. "Rest, then, Belle, I would need you rested for later tonight," he told her.
As the Prince opened the door and made to leave, he jumped, startled, having turned and accidentally barreled into the chest of Monsieur Lumiere, whose face was reddened and the older man wore a slightly sheepish expression on his face. He wrung his hands as though nervous.
"Forgive me, master, but your father, he—"
"Thank you, monsieur, I will handle my son from here," came the cold and cutting voice of the Duke, stuffing the chills down the Prince's throat. Monsieur Lumiere grimaced but had no choice but to step away and did so dutifully.
Belle bolted out of the chair she had been sitting in and ducked into the furthermost corner of the bedroom to hide.
She leaned over a handheld mirror on a nearby nightstand and hurriedly raked her fingers through her long dark hair to try to tame it. At least her shirt and skirt were still presentable, she thought bitterly to herself. Belle nearly jumped out of her skin when the Prince's father spoke to his son in an aggressive tone, not seeming to see her yet.
"I called for you, boy, ten minutes ago. I would speak with you alone in my study. And bring your prickly little maid too."
"She is resting, Father, and I told you that you were never to speak to my maid again, I thought I made my desires quite clear," the Prince growled, his tone frosty as he glowered at his father. "But I will be sure to tell Belle that I—"
"You will say nothing to her when you do see her again, boy," the Duke commanded angrily. "I have seen the way you look at her," he snarled, the edges of his lip curling upward into a twisted grimace.
"With which eye are you looking, Father?" barked the Prince hoarsely, not fazed one bit by his father's foul mood.
The Duke pursed his lips but ignored his son's jab at his expense. The furrow of anger between his brows only deepened the longer he glowered at him. He scowled and folded his arms across his chest.
"You cannot seem to take your eyes off this peasant girl as of late. But I would suggest you start looking elsewhere. She is a low-born farm girl, and the blood of our ancient and noble family runs in your veins. You have not the slightest chance with this girl, not even in your wildest dreams. It matters not that she knows of your wretched curse—" he started to say, but Belle could listen to this no longer. She had heard quite enough of this kind of talk.
Furious, she slammed down the mirror she had been using to survey her appearance with a loud clatter and stalked out to where the Duke could see her, moving to stand in the middle of the room with nowhere to hide, in full view.
"Good morning, My Lord," she said icily. Both the Prince and the Duke turned towards her with their mouths slightly agape in awe, shooting her an incredulous, stunned look, even if both men had different reasons.
The Duke flicked his one good eye from Belle to the Prince, the edges of his mouth pinching and turning down into a heavy frown as he returned his gaze towards his son in front of him. The Duke stared at the Prince for a long moment, the man's expression blank, and then his one grey eye narrowed, his hands clenching into fists at his side.
"Tell me you did not, boy, that you have not been alone in this room with her," he growled, his voice little more than a vicious snarl laced to the brim with hatred and ire towards his son.
Belle interjected before the Prince could speak, her temper overwhelming her ability to think rationally, though a small part of her brain was screaming at her to stay silent, that nothing good could come of engaging the Duke like this.
"He came to my room to check on me, sir, the hunter he told you about, he tried to hurt me, but your son stopped it, he let Gaston off with a warning. He will not trouble either one of us again. The problem has been dealt with, there is no need for alarm," she interrupted, moving to step protectively in front of the Prince, as though she thought her petite form would keep the man she served and she thought she was beginning to like from his wrath.
"And shouldn't your son decide who he chooses to spend his time with? That is his decision, not yours," she pointed out rather bluntly.
A muscle in the older Frenchman's jaw tightened as he hardened his gaze.
"You are right, wench," he grunted, his voice sounding much softer and more subdued than before, but if anything, Belle only grew more unnerved by him. "I do not have the right to tell my son whom he should choose to spend his time with. But it is dangerous ground he is treading, he should be more cautious."
The Prince strode forward furiously, clenching his hands into fists by his side.
"Father, you seem quick to judge who is the best fit for me, without knowing whom it is that you speak of."
A vicious look passed between the father and son just then. Belle cringed, knowing the look all too well from whenever Gaston's temper was about to implode. There would be a brawl soon, she could feel it in her bones.
She moved out from behind the Prince and came to step in front of him, firmly standing her ground.
"Stop this, please, you cannot do this to one another," she pleaded, hating that she was near tears and unable to fight down the warbling crack in her voice. "You are father and son, you are family, and you should not be fighting like this, no matter what happened in the past, there is always a way to mend what's broken. I have to believe it."
For a long moment, there was nothing but silence, but then, the Prince let out a frustrated exhale through his nose and lowered his head, taking a step forward as though he was making to follow in his father's footsteps.
The Duke looked away from them both as he did the same, stepping back out into the hallway just outside her room.
It was a moment before he spoke again, and when he did, his voice caused the temperature in the room to drop significantly.
"Monsieur Lumiere here will escort you downstairs," he grunted lowly. "I would speak with you in the Hall, alone. Five minutes. Do not be late or I would be well within my rights to give you a beating, boy," the Duke snapped.
Without another word to his son or Belle, turned on his heels and stalked off down the hall. The Prince and Belle both let out little breaths they did not realize they had been holding at the same time as they watched the Duke's silhouette become fainter and fainter. They did not turn to look at one another until he was down the grand staircase and out of sight.
"Well, all things considered, and what I know of that vicious bastard's temper, that could have gone much worse. I am glad it did not," the Prince muttered darkly, still glaring at the spot where his father had stood moments ago.
He shook off the worst of his misgivings and dread about whatever conversation was to follow once he left Belle alone, and instead turned towards his maid with a soft little smile.
"Thank you, Belle. For defending me. I dare say that is perhaps the second time in my life that someone has, and you were the first both times," he sighed, frowning.
The Prince smiled wanly at Belle's nonplussed expression, reaching up to tuck a lock of dark hair behind her ear, ignoring Lumiere watching them both, seemingly interested, yet the man had the good sense to say nothing at all.
Belle had little to no time at all to react as the Prince took her hand in his, bowing low and bringing her trembling fingers to his lips. He placed a gentle and delicate kiss there and lifted his gaze to hers, and her first thought was that his smile was almost hopeful. She stared at him, wide-eyed, and felt a fiery heat creeping onto her cheeks.
"Tonight then, Belle. I am looking forward to it. Mrs. Potts and Laure will be by later this evening to help you dress," he bid Belle, holding her hand a moment longer than was perhaps appropriate, his blue eyes burning into her.
Then, as he raised an eyebrow at Lumiere, who stood timidly against the opposite wall, waiting for his master to join him in the hall, the Prince stepped through the doorway and departed, leaving Belle to watch him leave longingly.