BELLE tried to ignore the fiery heat creeping to her cheeks as she forcefully sipped her tea tersely the following morning at breakfast, having been summoned to the Great Hall bright and early by Monsieur Lumiere.
Monsieur Lumiere had been stoic-faced and uncharacteristically quiet as he had led her from her rooms to the Hall where the Prince was waiting for her, but she suspected from the look on the handsome older man's face that he was aware, at least somewhat, of what had transpired between them last night.
Word traveled in a castle this size, Belle thought she was beginning to understand that much, at least.
Lumiere had ushered Belle into the Great Hall without so much as speaking a word, except to say that the master was within and was waiting for her. She thanked the man for his help.
Lumiere nodded, albeit with stiffly pursed lips and a look of disappointment on his face. This puzzled her, but Belle had no time to ponder it as she stepped inside and Lumiere gently closed the door behind her.
Belle's nervous eyes made a quick sweeping scan of the room.
Finally, her gaze rested upon the Prince's tall and towering silhouette standing in front of the windowsill, looking up with feigned interest at the black and purple thunderstorm clouds that were looming towards his castle.
A fitting metaphor for both their moods, she thought bitterly, as she made no move to step away from the door until he said so.
She moved away only when the Prince spoke to her in a gruff and calloused voice laced with gravel.
"Sit," he barked, his voice hoarse and reedy-sounding, as though he had not slept well. At least, he seemed to have in common with Belle. she had spent all last night tossing and turning her bed. She had retired to bed shortly after they had returned to the castle, but only after the castle's skilled physician had tended to her arm. Her mind was preoccupied with thoughts of how their conversation this morning was to proceed and it left her sleepless.
Belle could only comply and moved forward to touch the edges of the chair at the long rectangular table she presumed was to be hers. She knew this, judging by the meal set on the place setting and the steaming mug of tea that the gentle old lady from the kitchens, Mrs. Potts, looked to have prepared for her.
She nearly smiled to herself as she could imagine the old woman fussing over the breakfast this morning and leaving the master of the castle with strict instructions to be sure she finished it.
But smiling was the last thing she felt like doing as she situated herself and wound her furry paws around the steaming mug of tea. Though its scent was appealing, her stomach lurched to even consider entertaining the notion of eating or drinking anything. She feared she'd not keep it down now.
It was a moment or two before Prince Adam turned around to face her fully, his handsome features this morning looked almost blank. Menacing even.
It sent a chill down her spine and when he finally found his voice, it stuffed the chills down poor Belle's throat.
"Your arm, this morning, how is it?" he grunted, moving to occupy the chair across from her on the other side of the table, his tone almost cold in nature.
Shamefaced, Belle glanced down at the bandages that were wrapped around her arm so thickly that she could scarcely move. The physician had crafted a makeshift sling for her arm and had given her strict instructions not to move it or remove the bandages for at least a few weeks while it healed.
It stung whenever she tried to move her arm, though Belle supposed she ought to be grateful she was even alive at all. What was a small knife wound on her arm that was sure to scar eventually was nothing compared to nearly dying at the hands of the very man who had his sights set on marrying her. And because of her stupidity, because she had been too hungry to pay any sort of mind to any sound logical reasoning, she had nearly been killed.
It also did not escape her attention that her admittedly foolish actions could have gotten the Prince seriously hurt or killed too, had Gaston been of a mind not to listen and had chosen to attack instead of walk away.
Belle felt the burn of Prince Adam's gaze on her and she remembered she owed the Prince an answer.
Grateful the man could not see the blush that rose to her face out of embarrassment hidden by her fur, she shyly answered him, refusing to meet the man's gaze.
"I'm fine, Your Highness, it looks worse than it is," she whispered shyly, though she certainly did not feel it. She was anything but.
Belle hesitated for a moment, nibbling on the wall of her mouth, unsure how to proceed.
After a moment to collect her thoughts, she spoke. She did not know if the Prince would forgive her, but she knew that unless she said what was on her mind, she would never forgive herself for being such a coward.
The man had saved her life last night when he did not have to, and she did not want to seem ungrateful.
But that did not mean this was going to be an easy conversation to be had, she could tell by the murderous look sparking to life behind the Prince's icy blue eyes that he was barely keeping it together.
"You could have left me, Your Highness."
Belle's words were soft and laced with guilt. Despite the coldness of the Prince's eyes, Belle forced herself to lock eyes with the man and refused to look away. She did not want her words to lose any sort of meaning.
Belle watched, awestruck, as the Prince's expression grew guarded as he studied her features intently for a moment. She stiffened and squirmed in her chair at the intense scrutiny of his gaze, not sure what the man was looking for. She let out a little breath and continued, wanting to apologize, if he would let her.
"You didn't," she continued, her voice solemn, yet with just a twinge of awe that Prince Adam had been so thoughtful. "You brought me back here to the castle and treated me. After all the trouble this curse has caused, you still came back for me. You saved me." Belle felt her words catch in her throat and she fought against the urge to wring her hands together, a nervous habit of hers whenever she was troubled. "I-I know that I don't deserve such kindness from you or any of your staff here, Your Highness, b-but I want you to know that I am grateful for it. Truly, I am."
Belle nervously averted her gaze, ducking her head low and allowing a lock of her hair to fall in front of her monstrous Beastly face like a curtain, shielding her expression of shame from the Prince now. She picked at the cuticle of her thumb, her words spent.
She had at least apologized and tried to steer the ship of their conversation in the right direction. Now, it depended on whether or not the arrogant Prince seated across from her would hear her words and acknowledge her apology.
The apparent and uncomfortable rift that now existed between them could not be mended if the man did not want to talk.
"You blatantly disregarded what I told you to do, which was to stay put, girl, why did you leave the clearing? Are you foolish? Stupid? Is that it?" he snarled with an angry snap and Belle looked up, hurt.
"I-I'm sorry, Your Highness, I-I didn't think, I-I was hungry," Belle tried to supplicate the Prince somewhat, though she knew by the look in her eyes, trying to apologize was doing her no good.
It was only making the man angrier. She flinched and recoiled as the Prince bolted to his feet, overturning the chair he had been occupying in the process. Though the Prince furiously kicked aside the fallen chair without much thought and ran his hands through his hair in anguish. The man looked livid.
"Do you even hear yourself, she-wolf?" he snarled, baring his teeth at her. "How ridiculous you sound? When I told you to stay put, I meant it! You could have died last night! You would have been killed had I not shown up to stop that villager when I had! If I'd come one minute later, you would have been dead!" he shouted, his neck becoming splotchy in his anger and his entire face flushed a deep cherry red in his fury.
Belle could feel her eyes beginning to tear up at the emphasis of his words but she sharply turned her head away and point-blank refused to let them fall.
"I made a mistake," she answered through clenched teeth. "How long are you going to lord this over my head, Your Highness?" she asked, trying to sound angrier, but her voice was lacking the bite it should have had. She flinched as she heard him answer her.
"For as long as it takes for it to sink in," Prince Adam snapped as he met her gaze as Belle slowly turned around to face him. Something about the way the Prince was staring at her now with those wintry blue eyes of his made her feel exposed and vulnerable. "We're not arguing about this," the Prince snapped as his voice rose to match his angry mood.
Belle flinched. She could hear now that he sounded very angry. So furious that if she was not getting to know him better the more time she spent around this man, she would have pitied anybody who dared to try to contradict him at this point. She stayed still and silent as an owl, thinking that perhaps it was best to let him get it all out. A squeak left her lips as he landed his fist against the wall so violently that she yelped as debris gathered around his hand.
His chest was heaving hard as the Prince lifted his gaze to hers, his face struggling to control the burning rage that coursed through his veins at the mess she had made of their outing last night.
The man looked as though his chiseled face was about to crack into a thousand pieces.
She felt anger swell within her at hearing his words, and she knew that she needed to stand her ground against the Prince's cutting remarks, but even so, the little reminders of his charity last night, how he'd saved her and brought her back, chipped away at Belle's resolve like fragments of a teacup that had been smashed.
Belle inhaled a shaky breath as she stared at the Prince now looming in front of her.
"I'm sorry, Your Highness, what's happened has happened," she spoke in a voice that sounded small. "I can't change what happened to me any more than you could, but…I hope that you'll accept my apology. Perhaps we could move forward?" she questioned, unable to ignore the note of hope seeping to the surface in his voice.
She thought she saw the beginnings of understanding flash across the handsome Prince's face, but he was having trouble believing; that she was calling for a truce. The Prince snapped his gaze to hers in time to see a look of sorrow plastered all over the girl's ghastly face. The Prince squinted grumpily by way of response and awkwardly cleared his throat, not liking how the Beast's eyes began to wander the room.
"Love and blood," he answered in a curt, clipped tone. He watched as the she-wolf snapped her curious gaze back to him, her lips parted as if she wanted to say something to him. However, it took her a minute.
"What?" Her brows crumpled in confusion. Her gaze was fixed on how broken the Prince's features looked, he looked a complete and utter mess. Just like me, she thought widely to herself and shook her head to rid herself of the odd thought. "What do you mean?" She almost felt sorry for the Prince. The man was an absolute mess, because of her.
Was there a small part of her that was secretly thrilled to be the attention of such a handsome boy, flattering though it was, for the rest of how his attention had come upon her was unsettling? Yes, of course, she was.
But the other part of her knew that unless they made amends, the curse would never be broken.
Belle was pulled out of her thoughts as the Prince shot her a withering look of daggers that would have had her pinned to the chair she sat frozen in had the man the ability to shoot daggers out of his eyes.
"I don't know, it was what your witch said when I asked her how we could lift your curse. I don't know what it means, and a part of me does not want to know particularly the 'blood' aspect," he grunted, and turned away, his eyes darkening at the confusion she was sure was written all over her face. "And…before you get angry with me, mademoiselle, I will….be willing to try to make an effort if you will. No more insults, no more avoiding one another, and for the love of God, you will go nowhere without me, have I made myself clear? The last thing I need is to constantly save you from this peculiar talent for the trouble you seem to possess."
Belle stared, hardly daring to believe her ears that pointed and flicked up upon hearing the man's words.
She could only nod. She turned, sensing the Prince was growing fatigued of their conversation, and made to leave, though as her skirts twisted as she took a step forward, something caught Belle's eye, to her right.
Mesmerized, Belle found herself staring at a lovely portrait of a young woman who looked no older in the painting than perhaps thirty summers, her figure comely in a gown of pale green, her dark hair shoulder length and straight, her features soft and fair. Belle's mouth went slightly slack in surprise at how their physical features were similar.
Her first thought was she could have been looking at herself was she ten years older. Belle turned questioning eyes towards the Prince, who allowed a sardonic little smile to flit across his face as he took notice of what had caught the farm girl's attention.
"My mother," he answered, seeming to already sense the question Belle had been about to ask. "Father had that portrait commissioned for her a few years after they were married. Before she became pregnant with me," the Prince explained in a much more solemn and subdued voice than before, his gaze somber.
"She was beautiful," Belle breathed and watched as the Prince swallowed down hard past a lump in his throat.
"She was. She looks like you, Belle," he pointed out after a moment's pause, and without a word, turned away. "Belle." The Prince called her name and she stopped halfway from completely exiting the Great Hall and slowly turned to face him, her expression guarded.
She waited for Prince Adam's want despite seeing his back paraded to her. The Prince turned his head just a quarter so the prickly she-wolf could only see the side of his face as he cast his gaze towards the floor.
"Join me in the West Wing later tonight for dinner. There is something of interest that might be of use to you, and maybe we could find answers as to your witch's curse there. It's a long shot, but it's worth a try," the Prince grunted lowly.
Belle was stunned. "What…?"
"Will you?" he questioned, looking at her.
"I…y-yes, o-of course," Belle stammered, not sure what else to say.
Only when the Prince turned away did she make to leave. Belle, sensing she would get nothing further out of the Prince and that their conversation was ended, turned and fled.
Before she exited the room completely, however, she paused in the doorway to spare one last glance over her shoulder. To her fear and excitement, Prince Adam was looking directly at her. She fled the room, and she had just gotten to her room when she realized something, something that made her freeze.
To the best of her recollection, since she had met him, it was the first time the Prince had called her by her name.
She made a silent vow going forward as she slipped into her rooms, exhausted, to be kinder to him.
Perhaps…she had misjudged him, just as he had her.