THE Prince tried to ignore the pounding of his heart as his father led the way to his private solar, not far from the Great Hall where he took his meals. Once they were outside and well away from Belle's room, the Duke had seemed visibly disappointed, if not frustrated.
He had expressed a demand to speak with his son in private, and the two of them were slowly making their way towards his private office, with Monsieur Lumiere nervously taking the lead and escorting them inside the desolate room. The Prince, despite his animosity and resentment towards his father for his part in having the wretched Enchantress lay her curse upon him, hated himself for admitting to himself that he hoped Father was not too upset with him. Deep down, there was still a part of him that craved his father's love and approval, no matter what he had done.
He had expected some amount of anger from Father, but he hoped that it was nothing they could not talk through together, as a father and son should do so. Even still, as Lumiere had led the two men down the wide halls of the first floor of the castle, the Prince hated that he could barely contain his racing heart.
Father was angry, he could see that quite plainly. When Belle had spoken of that bastard of a hunter, Gaston, he thought the brute's name was, that had hurt her, and how the Prince had let him off with a warning, the Duke had not spoken of his anger. But the Prince knew his own father well enough by now to know when the man was losing his temper. The man's one good eye that he still possessed following the accident was filled with a horrible betrayal and anger, but the Prince hoped his father could listen to reason. That he had seen no need for blood to be spilled on his account. It was the only way to try to reach him, was to talk to him and pray that the Duke would let him explain.
But this conversation would not be an easy one to be had, he could already tell.
"Thank you, Lumiere, you may leave us," The Prince instructed his servant and perhaps the closest thing he had to a friend as he turned to face the older man grimly.
Lumiere did not look convinced that the Prince would be alright left alone in the company of the Duke, but he seemed supplicated when the Prince tilted his head to the right and offered him a curt nod, a sign of reassurance that he would be fine.
Only then did Lumiere take his leave, turning on his heels and swiftly exiting the room, closing the doors behind him as he did. The Prince stiffened as the Duke strode towards one of the windows and kept his back paraded to him now.
Father was no doubt going to reprimand him, yell at him, even hit him, to ask him why he had done such a reckless thing by letting the hunter live. The Prince exhaled a shaky breath and was the first to speak.
"Father, before you get angry, allow me to explain," the Prince spoke cautiously and paused. He was fully expecting his father to yell at him, to turn and raise a hand against him and refuse to let him say another word. But the Duke did no such thing.
Perhaps foolishly, the Prince felt some hope swell in his chest. The Duke still kept his back facing his son and remained stoic and silent. Perhaps he was willing to listen to the Prince's explanation after all.
Encouraged, the Prince continued, speaking softly.
"The people have feared our family's name long enough." His voice was nearly trembling with both anticipation and anger as he spoke, as he knew anything he said might only anger the Duke more. "It was Belle that I thought of when I let that hunter off with a warning. Despite her dislike for the brute, I do not think she would have appreciated it if I would have ordered him killed as you commanded me to. I did not see a need for bloodshed and to give those villagers reason to fear us further."
The Duke inhaled sharply but still refused to turn and face him.
"How long has she spelled you, boy?" He spoke to the Prince in a voice that could almost be described as a vicious growl.
The Prince sucked in a breath as his eyes widened in surprise at Father's question. His mouth parted as if he wanted to speak while his father finally turned slightly at the waist to regard him with a withering glower that had he the capability would have wilted a fully bloomed rose.
"You do not seem to grasp the severity of what you have done. By letting that hunter who has seen you in your…accursed form, you have doomed our entire family, everything that I have worked so hard for, in the span of a single evening and all for some hussy!" The Duke shook his head as the Prince's face flushed in anger, but he held up a hand, preventing his son from speaking and talking over him as he continued. "I cannot let what has happened here this morning go unpunished, it matters not that you are my son. The people still look to me for leadership and if I let every crime go unpunished, then our family, what is left of it, will face a revolt and the people are sure to turn against us," he snarled angrily, his lips curling up in a sneer.
"Father, I have rarely asked you for anything, but selfishly, I ask you this once. Do not punish my maid, the fault was not Belle's for what happened. Punish me instead, I can take it. Don't hurt her." His voice trembled and his body began to shake with the solemnity of his words as the Prince, a man who was unused to begging anything from anyone, especially not him, begged.
His father remained silent for several long moments, fixing the Prince with a glare he was not sure what to make of at first, though he steeled his nerves and tried to force his expression to remain neutral.
The Prince did not want to give his father the satisfaction of seeing how this conversation was already afflicting him.
The Duke lifted his gaze to the Prince, and without thinking, the Prince recoiled and took a step backward. His father had never looked so angry, not since his last visit when he had informed him that his mother had died following the accident he still had nightmares of on a regular basis. The Prince shivered, beads of sweat glittering along his scalp and dripping down his temple.
He had trouble shaking the violent images away. But the Prince was pulled from his thoughts as the Duke spoke, his tone harsh.
"Every time I think that I begin to find something within you that's redeemable, you never cease to amaze me by making a mockery of what your mother and I worked so hard to build for you. It was a mistake to have left you. If you expect me to show you any sort of paternal affection, how am I to go about it when I cannot even trust your judgment? The realm and people that our family has overseen for the past several generations are all important, but matters of the heart are not. Your title as Prince is not a pastime, boy, and not a choice, but a duty, one that you have shirked. My own father once told me, "To see is to be wise," and I can truthfully say that I have 'seen' more than enough since I returned home, Adam. You are blinded to your duty thanks to this farm girl and you are clearly not thinking straight. This cannot continue," the Duke commanded in a cold voice.
The Prince could no longer stand the loudness of his own thoughts as the heavy silence between the two of them stretched past the point of comfort.
He spoke, the question just begging to be asked was burning on the tip of his tongue. He was sure he was unready to hear Father's answer, and yet, the Prince knew that he had no choice. He had to know.
"Belle is a gentle woman, Father, a girl alone in the heart and unlike any of the other simpering ladies of the French Court you would have me marry if you had it your way. There is a part of her that pities that hunter and even forgives him, though the bastard does not deserve her forgiveness, not in the slightest for how he hurt her," he growled, anger flaring to life behind his eyes as he said his piece. He was almost afraid to try to read the expression in the Duke's eyes as the Duke remained silent.
Finally, after what seemed an interminable pause, the Duke spoke in a clipped, curt tone.
"I returned home to you with the intention to abdicate my position as Duke and relinquish my title to you as you are my only living heir." The Duke crinkled his nose in disgust and pulled a face, as though the thought revolted him. "Though it pains me to admit that I do not think you deserve what this role entails and the responsibility that comes with it, I am getting older. I would see our family's progeny continue before it is my time to leave this world." The Duke let out a morose chuckle and smirked a bit as he stroked the edges of his rough and closely cropped greying beard.
"My terms for your prickly little maid are simple enough, boy," the Duke spoke, though, for the first time in their conversation, his voice sounded hollow. "You will remain here and take on my duties until I deem you worthy to claim my title as Duke, and that farm girl…" He turned his head and his one good pale grey eye not covered by the eye patch blazed with a cold fury, unlike anything the Prince had seen in his father before even on some of his worse days. "That girl will leave the castle tomorrow. She has behaved recklessly by coercing you into going with her to her village, you have allowed yourself now to be seen twice by that hunter who will surely only continue to spread further gossip, perhaps even take matters into his own hands. Despite what you think of me, I would not see my heir hurt or killed. Fortunately for you, we have time to correct this egregious oversight."
Despair crashed over the Prince like a tidal wave and suddenly, his heart was in his throat. He stared, wide-eyed and disbelieving at his father. The Duke's words struck him more painfully than he imagined a dagger to his heart could do.
He thought of the lonesome nights ahead of him, and the aching loneliness that was sure to be his silent and deadly killer if Father were of a mind to send Belle from his side. She had only been inside the castle a few weeks and was already leaving an impression on him, and a good one. She was his maid, not Father's. She could not leave him. He parted his lips as if to speak.
However, in his flustered state of unease, it took the Prince a minute to find his voice. When he did, it was trembling with anger.
"Forgive me, Father, but I suggest that it is you who should leave the castle, not my maid. It is you who are not welcome here and I will not have this tension and hostility in my life. God only knows I suffer enough of it every single night when I transform. What I become, that Beast, that monster, is unjust and unholy. You owe that witch your life, Father. You should find it in yourself to see the error of your ways and do whatever you can to correct the past—my past—that you have ruined," he angrily shouted.
The Duke's voice was cold and stoic as he spoke.
"You have gone too far, boy. You are in no position to demand me to do anything, and you are in no position to ask me for anything. You continue to vouch for that farm girl's character and I confess myself confused as to why. Is it love?" he sneered meanly. "After this latest little stunt that she has pulled in convincing you not only to come away with her but allowing one of the villagers we oversee to see you in your cursed form, the only thing saving you from being locked away in the nearest insane asylum for the rest of your miserable life is my wealth and influence. It was I who've kept the rumors at bay. I cannot have that peasant girl whispering into the shell of my son's ear. You are an intelligent enough young man to know this, I did not ensure your education for nothing, boy. I see the way she looks at us, in her eyes is the utmost contempt. She labels us. As my son, it is your duty to uphold our family's legacy and I cannot allow you to tie yourself to a woman, not of noble blood. You will remain. Your maid will leave. I take this action as a precaution to protect the legacy that we have worked so very hard to build. I will not see any of it undone because you are spelled by this...this girl. If that girl steps one foot back inside the estate or its grounds after tomorrow, I will have no choice but to order her imprisoned-on charges of trespassing and conspiring against the crown." The Duke turned away, though not before he spoke his final parting words to his son. "You may have tonight with your prickly little maid, as I am a caring man, despite what you think of me. I know that you have seen me as the Beast in your life, not you, boy, and for that, I am giving you tonight to show that I do care for you, yet this is a reminder that I am still the one in charge, my son, and make no mistake about that. Because I want you to know true happiness, you are dismissed and free to go to her for tonight. Though by morning, I expect she will be gone. Monsieur Lumiere or Cogsworth can send for a carriage to escort her safely returned to whatever wretched village she comes from, but after tonight, I will not see you with her again."
The Duke inclined his head and with a wave of his hand, the Prince was coldly dismissed.
THE Prince's temper was threatening to implode as he turned on his heel and slammed the door to his father's study shut behind him, startling Lumiere who had been leaning against the opposite wall, waiting for him to emerge. Lumiere's expression fell crestfallen as his servant immediately stepped away from the wall and took in his flushed cheeks and burning blue eyes.
"I assume that your, ah, conversation with the Duke, master, did not go as you had hoped, if the look on your face is any indication as to your current mood, master," Lumiere commented, well aware he was potentially crossing a line by asking the Prince this, but his curiosity had piqued and it needed satiating.
"It did not, Lumiere," the Prince grunted. "Belle, Lumiere, Father is ordering her sent away. She leaves in the morning," he growled.
"What? Why?" Lumiere's expression registered shock and horror as his lips parted slightly in disbelief. He looked as though he wanted to ask a question to the Prince, but thought better of it as the Prince looked up sternly at his servant and held the older man in his stare.
"He thinks that she…that we…that I care for her too much, Lumiere," the Prince hesitated, unsure of how much he could divulge to Lumiere and was surprised to find himself considering speaking the truth. But between his three Heads of House, he thought perhaps Lumiere was the one who might understand the best. Why it had to be this way? He sighed, frustrated, and pinched at the bridge of his nose as though he thought he could squeeze out a simple solution to his newfound problem that way.
"I have no choice, Lumiere, he is my father. Belle must leave. I've concluded that as long as Father remains here in my…our home, Belle would not be safe within these castle walls, even if she were to never leave my sight." He voiced what Lumiere was already beginning to fear, having seen the way the Duke had eyed the young mademoiselle earlier with such contempt and disgust.
"My home has become as good as another prison for her, and I will not let her suffer as that—that witch suffered at Father's hand."
Lumiere nodded, confused, not knowing what his master was speaking of when he spoke of the Duke and a witch but let the matter drop as understanding flitted through his mind and his heart sank.
"You do care for her, then. Is it love?" Lumiere questioned, his tone cautious as he eyed the Prince carefully, studying the flushing of the young master's cheeks as he turned a shade of deep cherry red.
"What? That's not—I'm not-in love with her!" the Prince spluttered, not knowing how to laugh nor condemn his Head of House's ridiculous thought. Of course, he tried to tell himself, that it was not love, what he felt for his simple farm girl of a maid.
It was merely apathetic, an interest based on her looks and wit.
What he felt for Belle was purely a spur-of-the-moment interest. Temporary. Nothing more and nothing less than that.
She was the first to have seen him besides Mother and Father in his monstrous form and she had kept her word. Clearly, his desire to want to keep the girl close was born out of curiosity and not desire, he thought. The Prince scowled as he desperately tried to contain the reddening of his face, all the while Monsieur Lumiere looked at him with a funny little smile on his face.
"I'm not in love with her," he repeated, a harsh bark to his voice. He spoke the words as if they were true, but the way he was standing so stiff and rigid and was desperately avoiding Lumiere's gaze and looking for an escape actually told Lumiere a different story altogether. He cringed as he swore that Lumiere staring at him right now as he was, that he knew the truth.
Lumiere nodded, not looking at all convinced at hearing the Prince's words, his tone of voice not sounding convincing enough. But he let the matter drop for the moment and refocused his attentions back to the current matter at hand. The young lady whom the master seemed so taken with and how much of an impact she was having on the young man for the better.
And now, if she left the castle tomorrow, he and Mrs. Potts and Monsieur Cogsworth and everyone else who worked in the castle alongside him would likely soon the Prince revert to his old ways of cruelty and becoming more and more isolated.
"You are going to insist that she leave?" Lumiere asked, his heart sinking the longer he looked into the master's stricken blue eyes. He feared he already knew what the Prince's answer would be, and yet, Lumiere needed to hear the truth from him.
The Prince nodded.
"I have to, Lumiere, I will not allow my father to be a threat to her," he determined, swallowing down hard past a growing lump in his throat.
The two men were silent for several long minutes as they walked at a snail's pace toward the West Wing until Lumiere spoke again.
"And the young lady, Your Highness. What about Belle?" he asked. "How will she feel about being forced to leave?"
The Prince's jaw tensed.
"She will understand, Lumiere, my old friend, I am sure," he asserted, though he cringed at hearing how his voice lacked the conviction to sell the argument he really wanted to make as he tried to convince himself of his own words more than Lumiere.
Lumiere looked shocked at being referred to as an old friend by the master, but less so than he expected to be, the Prince was pleased to see and allowed a hesitant little sad smile to cross his features then.
"I do not intend to let her stay gone forever, Lumiere. Just until Father leaves," he told Lumiere somberly.
"And what if the Duke does not leave?" Lumiere warned, urging the Prince to consider any and all possible outcomes to whatever plan the young man was scheming now.
"She cannot go back to that—that wretched hovel of a village, Lumiere, not permanently. Not when that hunter waits for her. I saw it in his eyes, he would never treat her right, my friend. When the time is right, I will sneak away unseen and bring her back," he told his youngest Head of House. He had spent his entire life in the shadows as a Beast during the night. He knew that it would work.
Lumiere furrowed his brows in a frown as he studied the Prince's expression, which was one of determination and anger.
"I hope you are right, Your Highness. For Belle's sake, if nothing else, sir," Lumiere murmured earnestly, glaring at the Prince as they stopped in front of the doors to the West Wing. "The dinner, tonight, then, young master, considering your father's order, shall I inform the chefs to cancel or—" Lumiere trailed off as the Prince vehemently shook his head no, sending away the man's words.
"No, Lumiere, that will not be necessary. Belle is looking forward to the evening. It will take her mind off that hunter if nothing else. Our dinner will carry as planned. Tell the chefs to prepare something special and to deliver it to my chambers at eight o'clock. Tell them to leave the trays outside the door, I will collect them myself," he commanded in a curt and clipped tone.
If Monsieur Lumiere was at all surprised by the admittedly odd request his master had just given him to leave their food outside his room's door, he did not allow a hint of surprise to show on his face. Lumiere merely nodded and quietly informed the Prince that he would see it done, and turned on his heels to leave the master alone, sensing he needed the time alone. His eyes looked towards the door handle to the West Wing he knew he needed to grab.
The Prince closed his eyes, Father's harsh words still ringing in his ears. Belle would be utterly devastated to learn that she had to leave and he did not want to send her away, but until his father left, it was the only way he knew of to ensure her safety, even if it would put her back into the hunter's cross-hairs. Belle, he decided, would not be returning alone. Brutus would be returning with her as her guard. No one would dare get within a foot of the young mademoiselle as long as he was present, the Prince tried to tell himself, and hoped that it would be more than enough.
He was confused and utterly lost and did not know what to do about Belle leaving. He looked over the scratched doors to the West Wing one more time, before tugging on one of the sturdy handles, and disappearing into the dark.
The darkness of the room matched his sour mood, the Prince thought bitterly to himself as he ground his teeth and cursed his father with every single fiber of his being to Hell itself.