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Chapter 39 – Days 28 – 35: the Hope of Armithil

Belle looked dignified and smiled kindly at the many faces staring back at her. But inside she was dead scared and wished she could hide herself in a hole and never come back to the surface. There she stood, the princess of Armithil, the hope of her people. There she stood, before young men and children, victims of a war that wasn't theirs. She felt more nervous today than when she had to confront the court in Leopold's castle. Maybe it was the public that intimidated her. Maybe it was the expectant look in their eyes. They trusted her. Without knowing what kind of person she was, they trusted her. Almost blindly. For they were mere children, innocent with pure hearts and longing, so desperately, for a little hope.

Commandant Byront had called everybody to come outside and was giving an inspiring speech about hope, about will, about victory. And he was using Belle as the example for all these ideas. The princess looked dignified, but avoided by all costs the eyes of the children and teenagers. How could they look at her with such awe? How could they love her and see hope in her person, when she was the daughter of the man that sent them to the front lines? The beauty felt guilty and undeserving of the privileged treatment she was receiving. She felt undeserving of the compliments and of the praises she was receiving. But she let none of her qualms transpire.

The princess' head almost turned too fast when Commandant Byront told the crowd she was going to speak to them. Belle felt her heart race. She hadn't prepared for this. She had travelled the whole night, feeling nothing else than euphoria for being free. She knew Gaston was bringing her to a camp by the frontiers, but she had not expected to encounter the legendary Lord Byront, and even less, to be confronted with the faces of children and teenagers.

She hesitated. She scolded herself for doing so, for everybody noticed the small hesitation. A sign of weakness. A sign of an unfitting leader. Belle looked at the gazes and saw the anxious anticipation, the longing to listen to words of hope and comfort. The princess took a deep breath and took a step forward. She would not waver.

"People of Armithil…"

She began. It sounded awful. Her voice had shaken. The words sounded so wrong. How could she call them people of Armithil when there was no Armithil anymore. A sigh and another deep breath.

"You, more than anybody else know we live in difficult times. You, more than anybody else know the toll and sacrifices this war has taken. Wars are…unfair. They do not know faces, names or ages. Wars take anything and anybody in their path. Wars are a scary thing. But it is okay to be afraid. For you are stronger than you may believe. You are stronger than Maleficent may expect.

Yes, she can spit fire and send Ogres to destroy everything in their path, but she will never understand the true strength you have. Maleficent and the Ogres…they do not have friends. They do not have family. They do not know love. And that is what makes them weak. Because, as powerful and strong they may be, in the end they are alone. Because the truth is, no one is willing to fight for them. No one cares for them.

And that is why we have to stick together. Because when we are together, we are stronger. In wars we may lose friends and families, but we also find new ones. We make new friends and new families with people who share our pain. Who understand how it feels to be alone. And these new friends and family are worthy to be protected. Worthy to fight for.

I'm not asking you to fight for Armithil. I'm not asking you to fight for the king or for me…No. I am asking you to fight for the person who's standing next to you. I am asking you to fight for the person that wishes you goodnight and wakes you with a good morning. I am asking you to fight for the person who treats your wounds, who holds you when you wake up from a nightmare, who lights a fire in the cold nights and keeps you warm. I am asking you to fight for you. Because you deserve to be defended. You deserve to be protected."

Belle felt silent. Her heart was beating furiously from the emotions. She was panting slightly. Belle had spoken with her heart, tasting and living each word she spoke. And her true words reached the hearts of those who listened to her. A great clamor raised in the air. Children and soldiers screamed and applauded, feeling a new fire burning in their souls. For the first time in a long while, the members of the 8th legion believed someone cared for them. The princess was there for them. She would fight for them. And they knew she would not give up on them.

Since the arrival of Princess Belle in the 8th legion's camp, things changed for the better. The beauty, the simplicity and the inspiring words of the young woman conquered the hearts of all. Lord Gaston had been once again surprised by Belle, not only during the speech, but also when she insisted to trade her beautiful dress for a simple garment. In the following days, one would see Belle with a plain but pretty dark blue dress, cut on the sides from the waist down, wearing trousers under it, so she could move freely. Her small pretty shoes were traded by thick and resistant boots. Her beautiful long and curly locks were caught in a knot, making her look more austere but not less graceful. Lord Gaston didn't quite know if he should approve or not her choices. He realized Belle had become the princess of the people. But she broke all court rules by mingling with the soldiers and children. She helped with the cooking and the emending of clothes. She dirtied herself with the blood of the wounded when she assisted doctors and nurses. Lord Gaston failed to understand how she managed to blend so easily with these lower class people and undertake such distasteful tasks. He felt disgusted by the thought of it itself. However he was forced to admit that her constant presence around them motivated the tired soldiers. Not knowing if he should approve or not, failing to understand her behavior, Lord Gaston could only conclude one thing: Belle was a strange princess.

Commandant Byront, by the contrary, watched the princess with great admiration. She was generous and kind to the children and soldiers. She gave them the needed comfort and support. He had hoped the morning the princess and Gaston arrived. He had hoped the princess had it in her. That she had the needed will and determination to inspire his men. Yes, he had hoped for a lot. But Belle exceeded all expectations. He admired this small young woman with so much bravery. Princess Belle was truly the Lady of Armithil, a leader, a mother to her people. The person it was worthy to fight for.

After her inspiring speech, Commandant Byront sent messengers to spread the good news to the several camps. The following evening, four members of Armithil's court arrived. They had barely survived Regina's wrath and found refuge in the 10th legion camp. They were delighted to see all was well with the princess. Her news about King George were distressing, but they grasped with all their hope to Lord James and Lady Abiguail's promise of help. A new Council was formed by the four politicians, Lord Gaston, Commandant Byront (the other commandants would join them soon) and Princess Belle. They discussed during long hours military strategies, ways of defeating the Ogres, ways to overpower Maleficent and Regina and retrieve the castle and the king. When they returned, the counselors were divided in groups of two. One pair went back to the 10th camp, the other to the 3rd and from there they sent new messengers to the rest of the camps. Upgraded trainings were given. Tasks among the camp's inhabitants were redistributed. The archery and sword fight techniques were refined and extra trained. Soldiers learned everything about dodging the Ogre's blows and falling the right manner. Meanwhile, other messengers were sent to Snowland in search of refugees who would volunteer to fight in the camps. Just a few days later, the first volunteers appeared. And their number grew by day. Every day, men and women from all ages came to the several camps to aid Armithil. They came to help with the production and cooking of supplies, with the preparation of armory and weaponry, with the nursing and with the fighting in the battle field. For the first time, since the fall of Avonlea, Armithil was reunited. Armithil had once again one people. One voice. One force. And so, Armithil retaliated.

Lightening attacks, clever ambushes and a new fire in the soldiers souls took the ogres by surprise. Many ogres were slain and were forced to retreat. The soldiers were slowly gaining terrain. By each small victory, the hearts of the people of Armithil grew in confidence. The soldiers fought with a new strength. They believed they could defeat the enemy. And this made them unstoppable.

Far away from the battle fields, behind the cold and strong wall of Avonlea's castle, Malificent watched from her mirror the first timid signs of her downfall. She scowled displeasingly. Never had she expected the rise of Armithil's army. For weeks she had delighted with the haunted looks and desperate screams of the people of this small reign. She had expected an attempt to retaliation after the princess' arrival at the camp. But never had she expected the armies to reorganize completely and actually fight back.

She suppressed a scream of frustration. It was like living her past all over again. Belle was just like Aurora. Belle was popular, beloved and worshiped. Just like Aurora. Belle was the hope of Armithil. Just like Aurora once was. And men would fight for her till their last breath. Just like men once did for Aurora. And this was why Maleficent hated Belle. She hated her just like she hated Aurora. The Dragon Lady smiled maliciously.

"Let them think they have a chance. Let her believe she will win." Malificent spoke to nobody. She laughed coldly, a laughter that would freeze any heart and send chills through the whole body. "Enjoy your victories while you can. You have no idea what I have in store for you, Lady of Armithil."

Belle sat in the infirmary, pressing desperately on the abdomen of a young soldier. She thought he was really brave. He had a deep cut and was bleeding badly, but he was so calm and smiled at the princess like if she was the one who needed to be reassured. The doctor was in his way, finishing the treatment by another soldier and a nurse gathered the needed instruments. While they were busy, Belle was instructed to press on the wound to prevent it from further bleeding. The princess looked at the face of the soldier. He was so young. He was hardly twenty, she thought. The doctor and the nurse came and Belle was dispensed, for her relieve. She looked one more time at the wounded soldier and gave him a supportive smile, which was returned. She left at the sound of the young man's painful groans, as the doctor stitched him up.

Belle stepped outside the infirmary, washed away the red from her hands and fought back the tears. She would not allow her emotions and weaknesses come to light. She wanted to be strong for these brave soldiers. Be there for them, always with a reassuring smile on her face. But at night, when the war slept, when she was alone in her tent, she let the tears flow freely. It hurt to see such young people suffer so much. Each day, young men, mere boys, arrived badly wounded after a vicious battle. Every day more bodies were buried and small funerals were held to honor the bravery of those you fought for a free Armithil. Commandant Byront and Gaston cheered the victories, but all Belle saw was death and a lot of pain.

She knew since she arrived she had brought hope. She understood now the words of her father during the invasion day. The sacrifice of the housekeeper when they switched dresses. Rumpelstiltskin's explanation about the princess' role in this war. It all became clear now. She knew she was Armithil's hope. The hope that drove men to fight for their kingdom. The hope that brought their victories. Victories that came with a high price. Death and a lot of pain.

"Princess Belle!" Commandant Byront called her out. She noticed in the way he walked to her and the look on his face, something important and urgent was going on. "Princess Belle, I have glorious news! A messenger arrived. He brought you a letter from Lady Abiguail."

Kind of struggled to make the speech to sound "Belle". I guess her words in last sunday's OUaT inspired me (although I'm freaking out with her loss of memory!)

I must admit, I had not expected to write some many chapters with Rumpel and Belle separated, but the story kind of evolved and stretched by itself. But, you'll probably will notice some new developments in the next chapters that will please you.

Please, so Review :)