THE air was laced with a bone-deep chill as red and gold autumn leaves rode the better French breeze. A simple provincial village rested fast asleep through the wee hours of the early morning, and not a single voice nor sound could be heard, aside from the swaying creaking of the dark oak trees that lined the edge of the woods.
The tall trees protected the villagers from the Wolves' Wood, a cursed forest that was steeped in dark magic, a place where nothing good came of venturing within, the villagers said.
The village that a noble would and did describe as tumbledown was framed by the dull blues and deep reds of the morning budding sky. Thunder rolled in the distance and the cool air carried with it the faint scent of rainfall.
Given the early hour of the morn, not a single soul was awake except for a cloaked figure, shrouded in disguise in a set of thick and heavy navy-blue woolen robes.
The elusive and mysterious ruler of the realm and of this particular village in question. Prince Adam.
The young Prince had lived in his family's sprawling estate, that shining castle, for as long as Adam could recall.
Though, not a single day went by without his father, the late Duke, reminding him that he was not permitted to venture outside of his walls without an armed escort.
The Duke kept a tight rein on his boy, and when he had first attempted to sneak through the iron bars of the gates that surrounded his family's property as a boy, his father had caught him and scolded him profusely for it.
"A young boy of your station cannot wander through a peasant village alone," he scoffed. "You are to stay with me or Monsieur Lumiere at all times."
Monsieur Lumiere was admittedly not much older than the Prince, only seven years or so, and yet somehow, because he was older, that automatically qualified him as a better fit to walk amongst their own people.
The Duke had since then never allowed Prince Adam to leave and continuously kept a closer eye on his only son, but…Father and Mother both were gone now.
Father had died of a complaint of the heart a few years ago. Mother, of sickness.
The West Wing that the prince occupied was tucked away tightly within the unforgiving cold stone castle walls.
Various knick-knacks and treasures from his parents' travels around the world littered his private chamber, but it was not enough to quell the overwhelming ache that wallowed in his soul, the itch to explore beyond his home.
The young man had woken not long ago from another nightmare.
A lady's face, terrified, screaming, as thick wiry hairs sprouted from her face, arms, and legs, leaving the Prince to look on in horror as the beauty before him was transformed into some hideous accursed wretch.
He simply could not get these horrific images out of his mind, no matter how hard he tried.
He wondered why God had forsaken him so, to live such a cursed life. In a groggy stupor and not wishing to return to sleep, the Prince had dressed and had found himself wandering the grounds, his legs moving as if by rote memory. He did not even let himself think as he effortlessly slipped through the gap of space just big enough for him to fit through the iron gates of the castle that were meant to keep the Prince inside, and failed abysmally at it.
He swiftly flipped the hood of his cloak up over his long blond hair, which was currently pulled back into a low ponytail to keep out of the way. The Prince did not know how long he wandered until he came upon the village that he was meant to oversee and thanks to his isolation as a child, he still to this day almost knew nothing about.
Even from underneath his hood, the calm wind ruffled his blond hair gently, and Adam's lips held a thin line of disapproval and disgust that a village he was meant to oversee could look like such a disgusting hovel.
A frustrated and heavy sigh escaped his tired form as he let himself walk along the cobblestone streets of the deserted marketplace, marveling at how quiet it was when no other souls were wandering about, except...
His interest was piqued by a flash of blue out of the corner of his eye.
Alarmed, the Prince's eyes widened and he felt his hand instinctively move towards the knife he kept tucked away in his belt, half expecting it to be a bandit or some other man of ill intentions out this early and would find themselves missing a hand or an ear if they so much as laid a grubby finger on him.
But what met his questioning eyes was the furthest thing from a vagabond as it could possibly be.
His eyes soon landed on the figure that had just walked past him without so much as a second glance.
It was odd. Or rather, she was odd. The presumably young woman that had just aimlessly walked past him looked no older than twenty, but for a peasant, if she was indeed a farm girl, what struck him of this admittedly odd beauty was the fact that her nose was buried in a book. Her eyes were glued to the pages.
His eyes blinked repeatedly as if his mind were struggling to process the truth that was right in front of him that this young peasant woman was literate.
For many moments, Prince Adam merely stared at the curious girl in utter shock, his eyes drawn to the swishing of her long dark brown ponytail as it fluttered in the breeze, tied securely together with a blue ribbon.
He felt heavy as his feet remained firmly cemented into the cobblestone street.
A wave of curiosity overcame him just then.
A growl nearly left the Prince's throat as he breathed in the scent of lavender that was emanating from her.
He savored the moment and looked at the woman's creamy skin, already imagining himself pressing his lips to her pretty pink lips in a kiss, and he nearly growled with the effort to restrain himself at the urge. But his urge to follow her was too great. He did not think a woman, peasant or otherwise, had ever looked so enchanting, so intoxicating.
His legs began to move of their own accord, no longer taking directions from his own mind, which, at this point, was clouded with desire for this girl whose name he did not even know, and a part of him did not care to know.
The Prince was certain once he had what he wanted from this lovely belle, this pretty French Rose, then he would lose all interest in this simple farm girl and go on about his life back home at the castle, but…
For the moment, he was nearly overcome. It was useless. He already wanted her. Though the moment Prince Adam heard the young woman's shaky voice, it almost made him jump.
"I need to…excuse me!"
She had become so enraptured in whatever book she was engrossed in that the girl had not been paying attention to where she was walking and had accidentally barreled into him as he reached out a hand and curled his fingers around her shoulder.
The young woman spun on her heels and jumped backward, apologizing with a bright pink blush covering her face and the girl nervously waited for him to speak. The Prince's blue eyes curiously flicked towards the coloring of the girl's cheeks with a strange interest though he forced himself to look away quickly before things got too awkward.
She let out a little gasp as the Prince raised his face and jutted out his chin slightly defiantly and she got her first good look at the man's face. His eyes raked down her slender frame and a devious little smile played on his lips as he looked at this beauty, his white teeth gleaming in an almost predatory way in the dark.
What a beautiful sight this farm girl was. Never before had he seen such a celestial creature. Rich, dark almond-shaped eyes. Her dark hair was pulled back into a neat ponytail, and she could not have been more pretty, and yet, misery was written all over her beautiful features as she looked up at the Prince in awe and perhaps even in fear.
"Hello, belle," he told her and he offered the girl his hand.
She hesitated and took a staggering step backward, clutching the skirts of her dress as though she thought he was of a mind to pounce on her. The girl blushed at the look in his eye and the way the Prince was smiling at her now.
"What is your name?"
"Belle, monsieur," she said softly. Her voice was low and shy as she looked up at the handsome young man, her thin dark eyebrows furrowed together in puzzlement. She tilted her head to the side and she was clearly trying to assess if she had seen him in town before, which, of course, she had not.
No one here ever has, Adam thought bitterly. Father had made sure of that.
Shaking away thoughts of the ghosts of his past, the Prince forced himself to return to the much more pleasant thought of wanting more time in his mind to linger with this admittedly odd but beautiful farm girl.
"Belle…of course your name is Belle, lovely thing," he purred softly, his voice a smooth buttery purr as he stroked the back of a finger over her delicate cheekbone, frowning at how gaunt and sunken in they looked. It was obvious she had not had a square meal in moons. "You look cold. How would you like to warm up?" he asked her.
But to his growing annoyance and even anger, she shook her head and began to back away, her skittish eyes looking to the left and right, as though looking for an escape.
"I'm…terribly sorry, monsieur, but I cannot. I…I must get home to my father."
"You are whose?" he asked, to which the girl's eyes widened and she looked surprised, though he thought he saw a flicker of satisfaction flit through the young woman's dark brown eyes as she came to understand that he was not a villager, merely someone passing through.
When she did not answer, Adam continued.
"Your father will not be angry with you if you do what I tell you. Do you know who I am?" The girl called Belle shook her head, but already, Prince Adam could see her faltering as she bit down on her bottom lip.
"I am the Prince of the realm," he announced, the edges of his lips twitching as he fought back a smirk and watched recognition dawning over the lovely brunette's features.
Her cheeks flushed a deep cherry red and she immediately looked away and brushed at the skirts of her dress a bit. Her lips parted as if she meant to speak, however, it took her a moment.
The Prince waited.
"I-I'm terribly sorry, Y-Your Highness, I-I didn't mean to—to run into you!" she cried out in a badly trembling voice.
He could tell that everything about this was horribly frightening and awkward to her, but as the girl called Belle began to back away, every bit of Prince Adam protested and wanted to throw a tantrum fit.
Just a moment ago, he was almost in Heaven, and numb to the hurt that had been haunting him since his parents' deaths and the duties that fell upon him.
Now, his ticket to that place was about to abandon him and he would likely never see her again.
Quickly, Prince Adam jutted out a hand and tugged on her hand slightly, and turned his body to the side, forcing the girl to turn with him. When he saw this Belle was left with no choice but to take a tiny step forward, the Prince's devious smile widened as he crossed the street with her, leading her away.
Belle was left with no choice but to follow the Prince blindly as the man had placed her left wrist in a nearly painful vice. She cried out in pain as the man dragged her through the empty streets, struggling to get free of him.
As she passed by Monsieur Levi's simple home, the owner of the bookstore here in town, she called out, desperate for a kind soul to come to her aid, but he did not. But Monsieur Levi did not come.
He must not have heard her as he was perhaps still asleep, or perhaps the man had peered out the windows of his home and recognized the Prince's features and had not wanted to risk his own neck in order to save Belle's.
Nobody needed to be hanged for daring to challenge and go against the monarchy.
Belle was dragged through the streets, and if it weren't for the Prince's punishing grip on her wrist, she would have likely fallen several times by now onto the hard ground.
Belle could hardly breathe, unable to believe that this was happening to her. Her mind felt as though it were reeling as if she was in a dream, a bad one which she wanted to wake up from, right now, to find herself in the comforts of her own bed. Her feet felt like lead in her boots as she stumbled behind the Prince, unable to break free of his grip.
A shiver ripped through her as she heard the Prince let out a low strangled groan from the back of his throat and he squeezed tighter on her wrist, tight enough to nearly break it. A little cry left her lips and she heard herself pleading with the man before she could stop herself from doing it.
"Sir, please! Y-you're hurting me!" she cried, fresh tears coming to her eyes and it was enough to make him pause. The Prince froze in his tracks and jerked backward in surprise. He shook his head to himself and snapped.
"I don't want to hurt you, pretty belle, but then come willingly," he told her, and Belle knew then that his words were an order. A command. One that this Prince fully expected her to comply without question or protest.
He stared at her. His blue eyes were wide and he licked his lips to wet them. She saw a heavy swallow cascade down his throat as he stared down at her.
Her heart thundered loudly against her chest and it took her a long time to find her voice.
"Wh-what is it you want with me?" she asked hesitantly, unsure whether or not to ask her question, if it was allowed, or if she would come to regret asking. She wasn't sure she wanted to know the answer but it was too late to take back her words. "Whatever it is, I…I can give it to you, please, sir," Belle whispered in a trembling voice.
She watched, amazed, as the Prince's black-gloved hands slowly released their violent hold on her wrist. Belle stared, wide-eyed and awestruck, and gingerly rubbed her wrist for a moment before hesitating.
After a moment of consideration, she took his arm. Silently, with a painfully beating heart and a rush of emotion that was foreign to the inventor's daughter, an emotion that Belle could not quite comprehend, she followed the handsome Prince out of their village and into the woods, him leading her gently by the hand.
The thought that plagued her mind as she allowed herself to be reluctantly led away from her home, and from her father, was a simple but a poignant thought.
I hope this is not a mistake…