CHAPTER FOUR

TENSION met Belle almost immediately the moment the Prince's towering castle came into her line of sight as she struggled to walk with the barely conscious Prince's monstrous form at her side.

She kept one of his arms draped over her shoulders and the other wound around his waist, all the while secretly terrified of how large in this turned curse form his arm was. With one swipe of his paw, he could have her flat on her backside and killed in one stroke if the Prince was of a mind to.

She could only pray to God that when he woke, he'd be merciful and would not turn her away. It was her father's life on the line otherwise. She gulped and felt the color drain from her face as she noticed a man standing at the gates, looked incredibly vexed and agitated, having gone white-faced in his sour mood, though the man straightened his gait upon noticing Belle approach the gates with the monstrous Beast at her side. It was the man from earlier, Monsieur Lumiere and the Prince's servant did not hesitate to run and greet them halfway, nearly delirious with his tears.

"Your Highness!" he yelled, and the poor man sounded on the brink of hysteria as his voice trembled. He seemed to for a moment only have eyes for the Beast in front of him, yet Lumiere froze the moment his gaze landed on Belle and his eyes widened. His one good eye remained fixed on her and looked Belle up and down from head to toe slowly while the other one squinted off somewhere in the distance. The edges of his mouth turned down into a frown and the furrow of confusion between his brows only deepened. Belle shot Lumiere a pleading look and begged him to help.

"We must get him help, he's-he's injured, he...he was attacked by wolves, and we must get him inside and somewhere warm," Belle stammered, though she felt some courage return to her when Monsieur Lumiere made no move to step forward. "And if you won't do it," she huffed indignantly, "then I will, monsieur," she bit out.

The angry cut of her tone was enough to inspire in the man a response. Lumiere blinked and seemed to come back to himself. Belle felt a shiver run up and down her spine as Monsieur Lumiere looked at him and it took everything she had inside of herself not to look away. She was slowly but surely becoming more and more used to the man's ugliness, yet she could not help but pity the poor soul as he seemed kind and gentle and wondered if the man would ever find his happiness. Goosebumps broke out over her skin when Monsieur Lumiere spoke.

"Follow me inside then, mademoiselle, and take care to be quiet. There are, er….a select few in the castle who knows of the Master's, er… 'furry little problem,' shall we say," Lumiere muttered, turning red in the face as he hastily tried to explain. "It matters not how you came upon him in the woods, but you are here and praise God you've not left! If you are agreeable, I may need your help! We must get him inside! Come," he said, and without a word, he bounded forward and relieved Belle of the burden of having to support the Prince in his monstrous form into the castle.

Belle felt as though she could breathe again once the burden of helping the Prince walk inside the servants' hall of the castle was relieved from her. She marveled at the speed at which Lumiere hurried down the darkened corridors of the castle until they came to a door at the end of the hall, one that gave Belle pause and made her stop in her tracks. It was surely the door to the basement, it had to be. One of the Prince's private rooms she was told not to venture into.

The sealed-off passageway seemed to sit snugly within the cold stone walls of the castle, however, it looked as though there were cracks in the door that had formed from constant slamming over the years, and long diagonal marks that Belle was sure were claw marks. Given by how old they looked, she suspected he had been afflicted with this curse…whatever it was, for quite some time. Inexplicably, Belle felt a wave of pity wash over her at the thought of him suffering for God only knew how long. It was an odd-looking thing, this door.

Everything in the royal family's castle was grand and immaculate, but this old door that was nearly rotting in its rusted iron hinges looked out of place amongst everything else. The attentive young servant scanned the door with a nervous look in her eyes and she nervously tugged on the end of her ponytail.

For a moment, Belle felt as though she should turn back. She had been expressly forbidden from entering this room, and she suspected the Prince would not be so quick to forgive her little escape attempt right away.

Yes, she wanted nothing more than to turn her heel and flee into the darkest corners of her chambers, but then again, the loneliness she now felt was killing her.

With a heavy sigh and a toss of her dark ponytail over her shoulders, she nervously looked towards Lumiere for confirmation as the man used his one good hand to open the door. Monsieur Lumiere frowned as he turned towards Belle, but then a brief look of sympathy flashed across the ugly man's face as he began to understand.

"Ah, yes, of course, the Master's private room. Well, one of them," he sighed and turned to peer into the pitch blackness of the room before turning back to look at Belle, his expression solemn. "Mademoiselle, the Master will not be angry with you. Not over this, I do not think." His frown deepened. "You are with me, and as long as you do what I tell you and make no comment on the state of the room within, all will be well," Lumiere reassured her, his voice almost a soothing balm to her ears. Just the sound of the man's voice calmed whatever nerves were within her prior.

Belle could only nod and trailed closely behind Monsieur Lumiere. She stepped forward and placed a foot over the threshold of the now-open door, with less hesitation thanks to the man's encouragement.

Her face contorted into a grimace as she shut her eyes tightly the moment she entered the room her eyes had adjusted to the dim light within and she saw the state of the room. Nothing in this room was neat, everything within was in ruins. What looked suspiciously like claw markings lined the walls, the sheets of the bed were nearly in shreds, and nothing hung on the walls. She wondered if this room was where the Prince was brought when he transformed and if this witch's hex that seemed to have been cast upon him was a regular reoccurrence in the man's life.

A chill went down her spine and she was unable to stop herself from showing the violent shudder that wracked her body. This room reeked of pain, yet she did not allow herself to dwell on the uncomfortable feeling as she moved to assist Lumiere with whatever she could. But between his frustrated sighs and quiet murmurings that he had matters well at hand, Belle quickly realized that she was getting in his way. She awkwardly hung back by the ruined oak door.

Monsieur Lumiere covered the Prince with several blankets and thick fur pelts and with the blankets wrapped around him, Prince Adam seemed to regain some consciousness and peered up at Lumiere with hazy wintry blue eyes, admittedly the only part of the man that even resembled his human form.

"...Belle?" he barely whispered in a gruff voice calloused with ire. It frightened her but there was little Belle could do, save for watch as Lumiere seemed to know how to handle him, caressing the Beast's shoulder with his good hand.

"Hush now, Master, we need you well rested. Close your eyes, and you do not need to worry about your maid. She is here and she is safe. All of us, we are all safe."

Belle couldn't tell if the Prince understood or not in his cursed Beastly form, but his wintry blue eyes drifted shut after a few moments. Belle could not recall a time in her life when she had ever felt more out of place and utterly helpless.

As she watched Lumiere work in silence to tend the Beast's mauled arm, she made a silent promise to herself that she would check up on the Prince as frequently as she could.

After enduring such a vicious attack against four fully grown wolves, the last thing he needed was to spend a night of agony alone and unable to take his mind off of his arm's pains.

After what seemed an interminable wait, Lumiere turned his attention to the shy brunette and was wiping his good hand on a clean rag, which was stained with traces of the Prince's blood.

"There. His arm will be bound for a few weeks while it heals and he is not to move it if it can be helped. I will need your help, Mademoiselle, if you are willing, to keep an eye on him." He paused and eyed Belle with a look of admiration and awe. "You are braver and tougher than anyone seems to give you credit for, Belle," he complimented warmly. "The fact that you brought the Prince back to the castle seeing him in this form tells me that you do not frighten easily. This is a good thing. It means that perhaps you might survive us yet. I always knew that the Master did have a strange way with women indeed, he never struck me as the type to prefer brunettes, but why would he follow you in the woods? Were you trying to run away? How did you come across him…like this…?" he questioned, looking at her expectantly as he waited for a remark from her as to how she'd found the Prince in his cursed form.

Belle looked baffled as a pink blush graced her face embarrassedly. "I-I was out walking, I-I needed a moment alone to clear my head and to think, and I…I just…how did he get…like this, monsieur?" she croaked hoarsely as she trailed off and peered over Lumiere's shoulder at the Beast. The creature was now sleeping in the bed and the monster almost looked at peace. She found it difficult to believe underneath his cursed form was the realm's handsome Prince. Belle felt sick to her stomach as she watched a cloud pass over Lumiere's ugly features and settle there.

The edges of the man's mouth turned down into a grimace and he all but scowled as he briefly looked towards the Prince for a moment before returning his gaze to her in front of him. She gulped and prayed she'd not overstepped an invisible boundary by asking his servant.

Lumiere pursed his lips for a moment, looking thoughtful, and then sighed, his shoulders slumping in defeat as he seemed to conclude something on his own.

"Perhaps…you can be of use to us after all, mademoiselle. I suppose, it would not harm to tell you, though you must keep this between us and tell no one of what you have seen here. I, Mrs. Potts, Cogsworth, and the Duke are the only ones who know."

He hesitated for a moment and began to fret in place as he nibbled on the wall of his mouth.

Belle wondered if the man's nerves were grating on him and he was having second thoughts about telling her the truth, but then he launched into a speech, and the poor man was nearly hysterical as the fingers of his bad hand gave a spasmodic twitch as he cradled it close to his chest.

"He was bitten a few years ago in the Wolves' Woods by someone who suffered this same curse, we do not know what causes it, or who. It only matters that it seems there is no way to lift this Changeling curse, the Duke has called in several scholars and a few who practice in the Dark arts, sorceresses, and the like, and they are stumped as to how to lift it or who carried the affliction first," Lumiere confessed, his ugly features twisting into a pained grimace.

For a moment, Belle flinched as the man almost looked monstrous, but she quickly shook her head to rid herself of her frenzied thoughts. She was no stranger to ugliness and there were men back home in the village who looked far worse than Monsieur Lumiere and still lived happy lives, some of whom were married and had children, even.

She wondered if the Prince's servant would ever find his happiness someday but had no time to dwell upon it.

Her heart ached for the Prince to think that there was a chance he would have to live the rest of his life suffering from this painful and monstrous affliction for which there seemed to be no cure, yet her curiosity to learn more was overcoming her pity for her Master.

"How long…?" she asked, trailing off as she looked at Lumiere.

Belle thought she saw the beginnings of understanding flash across the ugly man's face. A light seemed to ignite in his one good hazel eye while the other drifted off somewhere and looked around the room.

He seemed to grasp the point.

"At the turn of the moon, mademoiselle, this curse comes upon him and ends when the sun rises. He's been this way for three years. It is...very painful for the Master to turn into this Beast, the bones in his body break as he transforms, and he becomes very irrational and angry, dangerous to be around," he stammered, using his good hand to gesticulate somewhat wildly while he spoke, his face turning redder by the second, "and so the Duke commanded him to come to this room and the basement to prevent the other servants from hearing his screams when he transforms or coming across him and being bitten and suffering the same affliction as the Master suffers. I am...grateful that you did not flee, Belle," Lumiere said after a pause and looked at the young woman with a pained expression. "I hope that you will stay."

Belle quickly nodded.

"Y-yes, of course, I am staying, Monsieur Lumiere, I am not going anywhere. I have my Papa to think of," she stammered, unsure why her voice held such dread as she looked upon Lumiere before flicking her gaze once more to the Beast resting on the bed. He'd not woken, though he stirred in his sleep a bit.

Anything she could do to help him, she would offer.

It was the least she could do after he had saved her and Gaston's lives from those wretched hungry wolves in the forest. Regardless of whether or not Prince Adam forgave her for trying to escape the castle.

"How did he get like this, monsieur?" Belle heard herself ask in a flat and hollow voice.

Lumiere frowned, already knowing where the curious girl was headed with her query.

"Despite his…condition, Belle, I would not fear the Master. He has stayed cooped up in this castle for far too long. Human contact has been little besides those who know him best and for—" But Lumiere caught himself as he was not sure if he should mention the strained relationship between the Duke and the Prince. Or how it had been Mrs. Potts' youngest son Chip whom the Prince had saved from becoming a monstrous Beast. The boy had slipped through the gates after dark and stumbled across a pack of vicious Changeling Beasts when the full moon was highest in the sky.

The boy would have been killed had the Prince not intervened, though the cost for little Chip's life had been great.

The secret had been well maintained upon orders of the Duke, and the rumors stayed low. Nobody needed to be hanged for daring to challenge the Duke regarding information as to his son's suspicious behavior once a month and why he oft disappeared into the woods alone with no escort.

"…That, mademoiselle, is his business to share, I am afraid. In time, Belle, I hope that you will see that the Master can be kind. He's er, timid, in the right moods that is," he stammered and trailed off.

Belle flinched. She felt immense guilt at her reaction to his transformation not even an hour ago and wondered if it would be appropriate to apologize to the Prince when he was in a better state of mind. With due time…perhaps after dinner. Belle quietly thanked Lumiere for the information and only when she promised to keep the Prince's secret did Lumiere let himself relax. He looked like he could have almost kissed her as he dissolved into relief and rested his good hand on her shoulder and patted it.

She returned her gaze to Lumiere in front of her and tried to seem attentive, though she wanted a better look at the cursed Prince in the bed. Perhaps her curiosity and intents were plastered all over her face, for Lumiere let out a morose smirk and chuckled a bit as he swept his copper ponytail back over his shoulders.

"I have finished mending his arm for the moment, but it seems that he is stabilized. If you could place a hot towel over his arm and check him in about an hour, I should hope he will soon recover. Even with his, uh, his fur, he's cold to the touch, but the more warmth we can provide for the Prince, the better. I'm heading towards the kitchens to let Mrs. Potts know to prepare a light chicken broth for him in case he's hungry when he wakes. I'll have something brought to you as well. Stay with him, Belle, but do take care to steer clear of him, mademoiselle, though, in his current state, he can hardly walk, so that may be easier than anticipated." He motioned to a stool by his bedside.

Her second warning to stay away from the Prince. He must be something else, she mused to herself as she thanked Lumiere for his help. The man's sigh he let out was enough to convince Belle how grateful he was for her tolerance and acceptance, and Lumiere soon left, leaving Belle alone with the Beast-Prince once more.

Belle gingerly crept towards the bed and summoned enough courage to sit on the stool beside his bed next to him. Looking at his face, even underneath the thick brown fur that now covered it completely, she thought she could see the shadow of the handsome Prince underneath. She half rose from her stool to adjust the pillows behind his head.

A breathless cry left her lips, and she could not help but jump back in surprise when his eyes fluttered open. Belle's dark eyes rounded as the Beast's wintry blue eyes swiveled around in confusion for a moment before they rested upon her.

Despite the fear that pricked at her heartstrings, Belle forced a smile, yet cringed as she felt a single tear drop down her cheek.

She awkwardly reached out a hand and rested her hand overtop his now bandaged arm bound in a sling and would be for the next several weeks, she recalled Lumiere telling her.

"Lie still," Belle instructed him in as calm a voice as she could manage, though she was unable to hide the warbling note of fear in her voice. She watched as he blearily focused his view a few feet in front of himself and she couldn't be sure, but she almost thought he was looking a little guilty as she looked down at him expectantly.

When he spoke, the Beast Prince's gruff voice nearly sent a chill through her, yet she reminded herself this was not his normal voice.

"You…you are here," he breathed, sounding awestruck, as though he had anticipated she would flee upon seeing him in this state. "You…can stomach it then."

"I am not disgusted," Belle heard herself whisper, yet even as she spoke, her voice trembled and betrayed that she was, in fact, afraid.

"Do not lie to me, woman!" the Beast rasped low in his throat. He snarled and jerked upright, causing Belle to cry out and bolt off the chair she had been occupying and she backed away towards the wall, looking wildly around the room for something to hit him with if he tried to get out of bed.

Yet his bound arm seemed to be paining him too much to let him move much, and he was left with no choice but to collapse back against the pillows.

"I'm not lying—" Belle tried to answer him, though the roar he let out cut her off.

"Yes, you are, you were trying to leave with that man! Who was he, Belle?! Your husband, your lover, who?!" he shouted, and Belle felt tears come to her eyes. His eyes softened for a moment as he paused to look over her face.

He collapsed his head back against the pile of pillows and closed his eyes. When he spoke again, every word uttered sounded as though it caused him pain.

"I am…sorry, Belle. I did not mean to frighten you."

"Yes, you did," Belle whispered hotly. "You seem to enjoy frightening people."

"Not you, Belle. You seem different. Not one of many, and alone in the heart, like me," he said, almost gently, and she remembered their conversation in the dining hall earlier, the look he had given her, she saw it now too.

The same sad look in his eyes and now it touched something deep inside Belle.

"Why…are you back?" he asked her hoarsely, still looking at her as though he could not quite believe she was here.

As if she were little more than a ghost his overactive and sensitive imagination had conjured to ease his arm's pains and take his mind off it a while.

"I came back for you, Your Highness. Monsieur Lumiere, he told me how you came to be like this," she said, stiffening as she watched every cord in the Beast Prince's body pull taut across his monstrous form. He looked as though he were prepared to pounce upon her at the slightest sign she meant to try to escape the castle. "I could not leave you to die there in the woods and I will not leave again." She was scared. Her voice trembled. The Beast kept his head bent and his shoulders hunched as a bead of sweat rolled down the back of his neck. The skin beneath his fur itched.

To his fury and horror, his prickly new maid deflected the question.

"You should sleep now, monsieur, your arm, it will need time to heal. Monsieur Lumiere should be back in a while with some supper for you, is that alright?" she asked, and the Prince thought a moment. He saw no sign of the handsome boy who had been with Belle in the woods. He wondered if seeing him in this form scared him off. But he could not manage to pretend to care about that man, even if he was his maid's husband or lover, he had failed to protect Belle.

The hunter would surely not be back. He tilted his head. He wanted to stay awake. He did not wish to sleep.

Sleep did not weigh heavily on his eyes, sleeping was the last thing he wanted to do. Belle had not fled from him or looked away in disgust when he had stumbled across them in the forest.

He'd hoped to find her and bring her back before his curse was upon him, but all was too late. She had seen him, had gotten a good look at his monstrous form, and now what would come was left in the hands of his maid, if she'd stay or if she would attempt to flee. He tilted his head again and his blue eyes darted across Belle's face.

Though he had only had one conversation with her thus far, that was beside the point.

He frowned as he realized he was…nervous. He had not felt this nervous since…he would rather not think about it at all. His mind felt like it was racing as he blinked his eyes repeatedly, wondering if to see her in front of him as she was now a trick of the light, a phantasm his mind had created.

Yet here she stood, lovely Belle, standing there against the flaming light of the few candles that were lit and scattered through his private chambers for warmth and for light that someone, probably Lumiere, had lit.

Her flowing blue dress hit the floor. She looked like she belonged here like Belle herself was a work of art. Her eyes were fixed on him, and her expression was concerned, almost worried.

He wondered if she was looking upon him now with fear and disgust in those bewitching dark eyes of hers.

And why had she not run out of hatred or fear?

But as much as the anger within him kept rising at the thought of Belle attempting to flee, no matter how many images Adam conjured in his mind of Belle fleeing the castle with that man or scorning him, it did not seem right. The Prince simply could not see the maid in that light, no matter why he had caught her outside of the gates.

"Stay." His voice seemed to echo in the otherwise silent room.

Belle was quiet for a moment as she examined his face curiously. She hesitated again and her pretty pink tongue wet her lips. He blinked once as she moved forward and gingerly sat in the chair she had previously been occupying before he had accidentally startled her. The closer she neared, he realized she smelled of pine fir and candlewax.

He breathed in deeply, his new maid's scent calming his very nerves.

She awkwardly reached out and rested a hand on his bicep and she sat there silently. He breathed in more deeply, amazed at how just Belle's scent could calm him and bring him back to a time in his life when he was happiest. When Mother still lived. Before his curse. Before. All of it…was before.

"Go to sleep, Prince," Belle whispered.

But he simply was not tired. He waited for a moment, staring up at the ceiling. A little smile came to his lips.

Even with the burning discomfort in his mauled arm, the tightness and soreness in his muscles, the burning in his broken bones, and the hell that would await him come dawn when they would shift back into their proper places and he would become human again, he was overcome with a sense of joy he had never experienced before.

Contentment. Happiness. Mrs. Potts had spoken of it often and Mother had read it to him from a book in their library once. He'd never felt it though, at least not since before Mother's passing.

This was what it must feel like, he tried to tell himself. Belle perked up when he spoke.

"How long…have you been here? In this room with me, I mean?" he asked, furrowing his brows in a confused frown.

Belle nearly smiled. "Not very long, but how are you feeling? A-are you hungry? I should go and fetch Mrs. Potts, I don't know what is taking so long…" She trailed off and she waited, watching with nervous eyes towards the door.

The Prince's mouth turned down in a scowl as he came to understand she was looking for any excuse to flee the room, and with a frustrated exhale, he looked away.

"Go, then, if you must. Anything sounds appetizing after what happened out there," he grunted and looked at Belle curiously out of the corner of his lowered gaze. "You never answered me. The man. Who is he?" he nearly growled to restrain himself from lashing out.

Belle's nervous eyes darted around before meeting his.

"The man's name is Gaston, Your Highness, he's…a…friend of the family," she stammered, and without another word, before he could stop her, she bolted and scurried out of the room and down the corridor, leaving the Prince to watch Belle disappear.

The Prince was admittedly perplexed at her strange behavior, but not enough to dwell on it. His body ached and he felt miserable if he was telling the truth to himself right now.

His new maid's mannerisms reminded him of Lord Father whenever he was around the Duke on a particularly bad day. She was very kind and quite pretty. A beauty but a funny girl.

Her dark brown hair was pulled back into a low ponytail and the few strands that did escape framed her face in stray wisps and strands. A light smattering of freckles dusted along the bridge of her nose and her dark eyes reminded the Prince of rich melted chocolate.

He contemplated her awkward phrasing and lack of social graces whenever she spoke her mind. She had only been inside the castle a few hours now and was already leaving an impression on him, one he was sure would spell trouble for him. He frowned, wallowing in self-pity as he pulled the blankets and fur pelts tighter over himself as he mulled over the situation with Belle, and why she had escaped.

A part of him inexplicably wondered if the prickly little farm girl felt as lonely as he did, and her pitiful attempt at escape was rooted in the desire to return to her hovel of a village, to her family, to her father, assuming the old bat hadn't keeled over and died with his daughter gone.

He appreciated that she had not fled from him in fear or disgust.

For the moment, that was good enough for him.

Yet even still, his ears were ringing with Father's warning to stay away from the girl, yet his mind was filled with thoughts of the woman by whom he was slowly becoming enchanted.

He could scarcely breathe. Was his heart racing? As he lay there in bed unable to move and in far too much pain to even twitch a finger of his injured arm, the Prince felt some hope begin to swell in his chest.

We'll see, he thought to himself. Perhaps he would prove Father's warning wrong.

There could be something there, something more, if Belle would give him a small chance.

She was the first woman to have seen him in this monstrous state since the Changeling Beast who had bitten him following the attack had turned his life upside down. The fact that she was choosing to remain by his side spoke volumes of her character. Adam always enjoyed a challenge.

At that moment, something from a place deep within the Prince's heart, buried, hidden, and ignored, was stricken with the inevitable feeling of destiny, that this prickly little farm girl whom Father had brought to him would one day be his wife.

As he lay there in wait for Belle to return with supper, he tried to assure himself that somehow, someday, she would be his and his alone. He tiredly closed his eyes and as he let the tides of darkness and sweet, sweet relief take him to numb the pain in his arm even for just a few hours, images of brown eyes and chocolate hair swirled in Adam's head.