THE tempest continued to unleash its fury outside the castle, and Belle, dressed in the black attire with a red vest that she had been forced into, served as a stark reminder of their connection to Gaston. She guided her father by the arm through the echoing passageways of the formidable fortress.
The rain and wind relentlessly battered the towering windows, and the ominous rumble of thunder filled the air. While she appreciated the owner's generosity in providing her shelter, Belle couldn't shake her curiosity about his persistent concealment in the shadows.
She longed for him to step into the light, allowing her the opportunity to express her gratitude more genuinely. But her thoughts of the enigmatic owner of the castle were ripped from her mind as she realized Maurice's hands were like ice, his skin pale, and his breath shallow, as if he had been running through the woods that bordered this lavish estate for miles, and for all Belle knew of her father, perhaps he had.
Belle couldn't understand how her father had managed to find her in this remote and mysterious place, nor why he had followed her into the storm.
Belle hurriedly rushed her father through a dimly lit hallway adorned with faded tapestries depicting scenes of grandeur and enchantment.
Candles flickered in sconces, casting eerie, dancing shadows on the cold stone walls. Belle led Maurice towards a spare room, her heart heavy with worry and confusion.
Finally, they reached a spare room that looked to be unoccupied as Belle pushed open the heavy wooden door. She quickly ushered her father inside and turned to take in her new surroundings. The room, though still grand and opulent, felt like a sanctuary from the tumultuous weather outside.
Maurice collapsed into an ornate, antique chair, his breath ragged. Belle knelt before him, her heart pounding, and gently placed her hands on his freezing palms.
"Papa," she implored, her voice shaking as she struggled to find her voice. "What are you doing here? Why did you follow me into the storm? You should be back at home, safe and warm in front of a fire, not here in this castle with me."
Maurice's gaze met Belle's, and she was astonished to see a mix of fear, determination, and relief in her father's tired eyes which were red-rimmed and cracked at the edges.
Tears welled up in Belle's eyes, and her voice quivered with an intensity she couldn't suppress as she beseeched her father.
"Father," she implored, her voice trembling, "Please, you have to rescind your offer to Gaston. I beg you, don't let him marry me. I can't bear the thought of being his wife, or the life he envisions for me."
Maurice's gaze met Belle's, and to her astonishment, she saw a mixture of emotions in her father's tired, red-rimmed eyes. They were worn at the edges, and the weight of the world seemed to rest upon his shoulders. His voice wavered as he spoke, filled with both fear and determination.
"Belle," he began, his words heavy with the weight of his decision, "I couldn't bear the thought of you being alone when I saw you flee into the woods. I didn't want to intrude, to give you space to think. But when the storm started and only grew worse, I knew I had to find you, to bring you back to the village. I cannot let you stay here, no matter what you might think of Gaston, Belle."
Tears flowed freely down Belle's cheeks as she clutched her father's hands.
"You don't understand, Father," she cried, her voice desperate, "There's something wrong with this place, with Gaston. I can't marry him, not after what I've seen and felt whenever I'm around him. It's as if there's a darkness that threatens to swallow me whole."
Maurice's face contorted with anguish as he listened to his daughter's plea. He had always believed in Belle's instincts and trusted her judgment. The revelation of her distress weighed heavily on him.
Maurice fixed his gaze on his daughter, a deep ache in his heart. He knew Belle was far from an ordinary girl, her intuition a reliable guide. He gently held her trembling hands and whispered, "Belle, my dearest, you must confide in me. What has occurred? What has Gaston said or done around you that troubles you so?"
Belle drew in a steadying breath, attempting to calm her racing heart. She recounted her unsettling encounters with the former military captain and the inexplicable sense of darkness that shrouded her. "Whenever I'm near Gaston, Papa, it's like an ominous cloud envelops me. It's difficult to articulate, but that's what I feel. His words, Father, terrify me, and his distant, vacant stares, as if he's transported elsewhere, unsettle me. His fixation on possessing me, Papa, is not born of love but something far more sinister. I fear the consequences if I were to marry him."
Worry creased Maurice's brow as he absorbed Belle's words. "My dear, I've always believed in following your heart. If Gaston truly poses such a threat, I will not consent to your marriage, and we must find a way to ensure your safety. But when you speak of darkness, is there something you're not sharing with me?"
Belle hesitated, her eyes darting around the dimly lit room, as though fearing eavesdroppers.
"It's as if there's a malevolent force at play, Father. And there's a hidden aspect to him, something he's determined to keep concealed, something he doesn't want the rest of the village to discover. I can't quite grasp it, but I know it's there. Please, Papa, reconsider."
Maurice's expression grew graver as he digested his daughter's words. "If what you say is true, Belle, this is a perilous situation. Your instincts must not be ignored, and we will find a way to keep you safe. We will uncover the truth about Gaston and whatever he may be hiding, and if necessary, I will take measures to shield you from harm."
Belle nodded, grateful for her father's understanding and unwavering support. She squeezed his hand tightly, her gratitude too profound for words at that moment.
"I will do whatever it takes to keep you safe and free from this darkness. We will find a way out, away from Gaston if that is what you wish. I am only sorry that I did not believe you sooner, dear, but you've my word now, you do not need to marry him. I promise," he said.
As the storm raged outside, Belle and her father held onto each other, their shared determination to escape the impending marriage to Gaston strengthening their resolve.
The secrets of the castle remained hidden for now, but they were both determined to uncover the truth and ensure Belle's freedom, no matter the cost.
Belle took a moment to collect herself and look around the room. The room was adorned with ornate decorations and an air of forgotten grandeur. Belle's mind once more drifted to thoughts of the castle's owner. She wondered why the man seemed so adamant about remaining hidden, as though he were a phantom lurking in the shadows. She couldn't deny the kindness he had shown by allowing them refuge, but the mystery of his identity and intentions gnawed at her.
Belle's thoughts raced as she mulled over possible reasons for the castle owner's secrecy.
Was he hiding from something or someone? Did he have a disfiguring affliction, causing him to avoid the scrutiny and the gazes of others? Or was there a deeper, perhaps more magical reason behind his perpetual obscurity?
Despite her apprehension, Belle wished for an opportunity to express her gratitude directly to her and her father's unknown benefactor. She believed in the goodness of people, even if they chose to remain in the shadows, and she yearned for a chance to thank the man in the shadows properly.
With her father now resting and the storm showing no sign of abating, Belle resolved to keep an eye out for any clues that might reveal the true nature of the castle she and her father had taken refuge in for the night and its enigmatic host. She couldn't help but feel that this castle held more secrets than met the eye, and she was determined to uncover them if only to express her gratitude and ensure her temporary safety for the night within its walls.
As Belle continued to watch the doorway for any signs of movement, her heart raced as she saw a towering silhouette come to linger and stand in the doorway, yet Belle noticed with suspicion how he was keen to avoid stepping into the light.
Belle's heart was in her throat as the man's voice boomed through the dimly lit room, his hoarse voice filled with frustration and annoyance.
"You dare, old man, to enter my castle uninvited and unannounced, just like your daughter?"
The owner's harsh words hung in the air, his wintry blue eyes boring into Maurice, who rose to his feet and began to tremble under the scrutiny of the man's frustrated gaze.
Maurice swallowed hard and stammered, "I…I apologize, monsieur. My daughter and I did not know this castle was yours, sir. Both of us were caught in this storm and we mean you no harm. I am grateful to you for your kindness."
Belle could see her father's vulnerability and fear, and it ignited a fierce protectiveness within her. She rose to her feet and stepped forward, her voice firm but respectful.
"Please, sir, I beg of you, let my father stay the night as well. We mean you and your servants no trouble, and I give you my word that we will leave come the morning," Belle softly pleaded.
The man's gaze darted between Belle and Maurice, and for a moment, even from this distance, she could see his stern façade waver.
Belle noticed the faint glimmer of doubt in his eyes. Still, his pride and apparent stubbornness wouldn't let him back down so easily.
He crossed his arms and took a step closer to the room, careful, as always, to stay in the shadows and avoid the flickering light from the torches.
"I'll allow both of you to stay the night, given the circumstances, lady," the owner of the castle finally conceded, though his words were laced with condescension. "But don't think this means that I trust you. Tomorrow, you'll be on your way, and you won't speak of this castle or myself to anyone. Is that understood?"
Maurice nodded fervently, thankful for the momentary relief from the storm and the prospect of a cozy bed for the night.
As the tension in the room slowly dissipated, Belle experienced a complex blend of emotions – a mixture of relief and unease. She couldn't escape the nagging suspicion that there was something deeper to the enigmatic man and his castle than what appeared on the surface.
Belle's curiosity about their unexpected savior grew, and she couldn't help but sense that there was more to him than his peculiar penchant for staying in the shadows.
In an attempt to diffuse the tension hanging in the room, Belle took a tentative step closer and whispered gently, "Monsieur, please, won't you come into the light? It's far more welcoming here, and we can converse more comfortably. I wish to see you."
However, the castle owner's response shattered her expectations. He clenched his jaw, his irritation surging, and an icy shiver raced down her spine as she heard him emit an almost animalistic growl, a sound she believed no human could produce.
A long, unsettling pause ensued before he finally spoke.
"Believe me, you don't. And you, lady, are hardly in the position to make requests. I don't require your invitation for anything, girl. Remember, I am the master of this castle, and I do as I please." His voice had shed its initial trace of uncertainty and transformed into seething anger.
Belle's curiosity and determination remained unwavering despite the man's abrasive response. She took another step closer, the dim light casting shadows across her face, and her eyes met him with an earnest plea. "But why the shadows, Monsieur? What is it that you're hiding?"
The castle owner's expression hardened, and for a moment, he seemed on the verge of revealing something, but then he pulled back further into the darkness. "There are things here that you couldn't possibly understand, lady. It's better for everyone if you remain ignorant."
Belle's concern only deepened. The cryptic nature of his words and his mysterious behavior only piqued his interest even more. She had always been a lover of books and stories, and this castle and its gruff owner presented an enigma she was determined to unravel, one way or another. The owner eventually excused himself with a terse nod, turning on his heels and leaving Belle and Maurice alone in the dimly lit chamber.
Belle immediately turned to face her father once they were alone, her eyes brimming with concern. "Are you all right, Papa?" she asked.
Maurice sighed deeply, sinking into the chair he had vacated upon the master of the castle making his presence known. "I'm fine, my dear. We're fortunate to have found shelter in this castle, even if its owner is…peculiar."
Belle nodded in agreement but couldn't shake her fascination with the enigmatic castle and its mysterious master.
"There's something about this place, Papa, something strange. Did you hear the way he growled, Father? It's not like anything I've ever heard…" she trailed off and looked concerned into her father's eyes.
Maurice looked at his daughter with a mixture of love and concern and seemed to sense her intent and spoke with a firm resolve. "Belle, my dear, you are just like your mother in that you've always had an insatiable curiosity. But please, be cautious. We don't know what we've stumbled upon here. We've given the man our word that we will be no trouble to him here as guests in his home. Let's get some rest, and we'll leave for home at first light."
Belle acquiesced, though her mind was still racing with questions and a burning desire to uncover the secrets of the castle. She knew that tomorrow, returning to the village and confronting Gaston would bring new challenges and revelations, and she couldn't help but feel that her journey had taken an unexpected and extraordinary turn.
The night was long, filled with strange noises and whispers that seemed to emanate from the very walls of the castle. Belle found it difficult to sleep, her thoughts consumed by the mysterious owner and the hidden truths of the castle that lay within the cold stone walls.
In the pre-dawn light, Belle rose from her makeshift bed that was no more than a mere pile of blankets and gazed out of the chamber's small window. The storm had thankfully passed, the calm but cooled air now a stark contrast to the unsettling events of the previous evening.
Maurice stirred from his sleep and joined Belle by the window.
"It's a beautiful morning, Belle, isn't it?" he said, attempting to lighten the mood.
Belle nodded in agreement, but her mind was elsewhere. "Yes, Papa it is, but I can't ignore the feeling that there's more to this castle and its owner than we know. I want to explore to discover the truth," she confessed, her expression pained as she slowly twisted her head to regard her father, seeing his stern countenance, suspecting he would prevent her from it.
Maurice's brows furrowed with concern. "Belle, my dear, it's not safe to meddle in someone else's affairs, especially when we've been given shelter in their home. Let's not overstay our welcome, shall we?" he coaxed.
Belle nodded in defeat, understanding her father's reservations but couldn't quell her curiosity. She made a silent vow to try to learn more about the castle, its mysterious master, and the secrets that lay hidden within its walls. With their decision to leave looming over him, Belle and Maurice gathered their cloaks that they had set to dry overnight by the roaring fire in the hearth of the chamber and began to prepare for their departure.
As Belle and Maurice fastened their cloaks, they couldn't help but steal glances at the grandeur of the chamber's interior. The ornate furniture, magnificent tapestries, and intricate details that adorned the walls left them both in awe.
It was clear to them that the castle was more than just a place of refuge; it held a wealth of history and mystery.
Just as they were about to step out of their room and make their way to the castle's entrance, a voice called out to them from the entryway. It was not the castle owner's voice, but rather, a softer, melodious tone.
"Leaving so soon without saying goodbye, my dear guests?"
Belle and Maurice turned towards the doorway to find a figure standing in the doorway, bathed in the morning light and full view of their sight.
It was not the owner of the castle as they had expected, but a different character, one who looked both peculiar and intriguing. Dressed in elaborate clothing and possessing an air of otherworldly grace, the figure took a step closer.
"Who are you?" Belle asked, her curiosity reignited. Her fingers instinctively sought her father's arm for reassurance, though she felt a subtle easing of the tension in her shoulders as the enigmatic figure flashed a warm smile. His teeth were oddly exquisite, and his manner was undeniably charming.
"I am Lumière, mademoiselle, the castle's maître d' and steward," he replied with a touch of gallantry in his voice. "And I must say, lady, it's an absolute pleasure to finally make your acquaintance. For far too long, our castle has been deprived of the presence and charm of a beautiful woman like yourself."
Belle couldn't help but blush at Lumière's gracious words, though her reaction was not solely due to his charm, but rather the sincerity that emanated from him. His charisma transcended his otherwise unremarkable, if not plain, appearance. It was easy to be drawn in by his warmth and charm.
Monsieur Lumière's physical features were indeed far from conventionally handsome; his face held a simple, unassuming quality, marked by the gentle lines etched from a life filled with smiles and laughter. His auburn hair, neatly pulled back into a low ponytail, framed a visage that had witnessed the passage of time.
As Lumière extended a hand toward Belle and Maurice, inviting them to follow him, Belle sensed an unspoken connection with this man, whose depth of kindness was seemingly boundless. His presence offered a stark contrast to the initial tension they had felt upon their arrival.
"Please, come with me," Lumière said, his voice gentle and reassuring. "Time is of the essence, and the master is eager to make your acquaintance."
Belle and her father exchanged knowing glances, an unspoken agreement between them to trust this genuine steward. They followed Lumière out of the chamber, descending a grand staircase that led them into a vast, magnificent great hall – the room where, presumably, the castle's master took his daily meals.
As Belle, Maurice, and Lumiere entered the grand dining hall, Belle's nervous gaze swept across the immense room, taking in the opulent details and the magnificent splendor that surrounded her. The polished marble floors, the towering stained glass windows, and the extravagant chandeliers all contributed to the room's breathtaking atmosphere.
Yet Belle's attention was soon drawn away from the magnificence of the hall and toward a lone figure standing by one of the colossal stained glass windows.
He appeared to be absorbed in thought, paying no heed to the sumptuous plate of food set before him that was intended to serve as his breakfast. His back was turned to Belle and his posture radiated an air of unexpected melancholy.
Lumiere, all too aware of their host's melancholic disposition this morning, stepped forward and awkwardly cleared his throat to announce their presence.
"Monsieur, mademoiselle, may I present to you, Prince of this land and the lands that surround it, Adam Beaumont of House Beaumont, son of late Duke Henri and the Duchess Genevieve."
The figure by the window slowly turned, revealing his features. The Prince of the realm had long auburn hair that cascaded down his shoulders, and his presence was undoubtedly commanding. He was handsome, unlike anyone she had ever seen, and it was hard not to be captivated by the Prince's regal appearance
However, Belle's sense of alarm was piqued when she noticed that the handsome Prince walked with a cane. He leaned on it heavily for support as he limped slowly towards the chair that she presumed was his.
Her thoughts immediately raced, wondering if he had suffered a similar leg injury to Gaston when the man had served on the battlefront a few years ago. But then she chided herself for such a notion; after all, the Prince of the realm would not have been engaged in warfare.
Her curiosity intensified as she observed the Prince's demeanor as he sat down in his chair with the help of Lumiere, who darted forward to assist the Prince by pulling his chair out for him.
The Prince seemed deep in thought, almost burdened, and he paid no attention to the delectable plate of food set in front of him.
Belle couldn't help but wonder why he had been so adamant about hiding in the shadows and not revealing himself to her and Maurice the night before. It was a mystery she was determined to unravel as she found herself standing before this enigmatic man who seemed to embody both power and vulnerability.
The Prince's piercing blue eyes finally met Belle's gaze, and a flicker of impatience flashed across his regal countenance.
He spoke with a trace of sarcasm as he leaned forward in his chair, "Has the cat got your tongue, mademoiselle? It appears you've not uttered a single word since Lumiere told you who I am. If you intend to make it a habit of disrespecting me, the Prince of this realm, by not even offering me your name, the least you can do is show me some courtesy after I graciously allowed you and your father shelter in my castle for the night."
Belle swallowed her unease, quickly realizing that the Prince's disposition was far more complex than she had initially thought. She stepped forward and curtsied politely, her voice steady but laced with a twinge of apprehension.
"My apologies, Your Highness, I-I did not mean to offend you," she stammered. "I am Belle, and this is my father, Maurice. We are deeply grateful for your generosity, Monsieur."
The Prince acknowledged her introduction with a curt nod, though the tension in the room lingered. Belle couldn't help but wonder why he had been so adamant about remaining hidden the night before. She had a suspicious feeling that there was a story behind his guarded demeanor, one that she itched to uncover.
The Prince's stern expression gave way to a more composed demeanor, and he commanded with a curt wave of his arm for Belle and her father to occupy the chair across from him. "Sit. Join me."
Belle and Maurice could only comply with the Prince's request. Belle and her father settled at the magnificent dining table.
It was a surreal experience, to be invited to share a meal with the very figure who had once been the stuff of legends for the parties he threw and of cautionary tales throughout the land.
The Prince, who had been observing Belle closely, couldn't help but notice her hesitation. His gaze fixed on her attire—the black dress and red vest that had been fetched for her the night before.
In a gruff tone, made curious, he inquired, "Belle, that attire you're wearing that my servant Mrs. Potts found for you, you mentioned last night that it seems to remind you of someone, a man. Tell me, who is this man to you and why do the colors associated with him make you look so uncomfortable, lady?"
Belle felt the color drain from her face as she shifted uncomfortably in her seat, her eyes darting between the full plate of food in front of her and the Prince.
She could feel the burn of the Prince's gaze on her, and out of the corner of her eyes, saw her father watching her expectantly, expecting her to provide the Prince with an honest answer, but she struggled to find her voice.
Belle knew that the Prince had allowed her and her father to stay in his castle, and she felt obligated to be honest with the man.
Yet, the thought of speaking about Gaston was unsettling.
Reluctantly, after a moment, she replied, "The clothes your servant fetched me, Your Highness, while I am grateful, it reminds me of a man in our village back home, sir, Gaston. He's…persistent, but I've repeatedly rejected his advances. He's insistent in pursuing me, and I find his presence very uncomfortable."
The Prince's eyes narrowed, his frustration seemingly growing. He wanted to know more but decided to restrain his curiosity for the moment, choosing instead to continue their meal. Belle couldn't help but feel that the Prince still had many questions, just as she did.
The Prince, his curiosity piqued, continued to press Belle for more information about Gaston. His tone was no longer gruff but instead was tinged with concern and genuine interest as he asked, "Tell me, Belle, what has happened between you and Gaston that made you flee into the woods during a storm? It must be something quite severe to have driven you to such desperate measures. Tell me more about this man. What is it about him that makes you fear him so?"
Belle hesitated, her eyes locked onto the Prince's inquisitive gaze. She knew she couldn't keep the truth hidden, but at the same time, she felt the weight of the story she was about to reveal.
"Gaston, Your Highness," she began, "he is not only persistent but possessive. He doesn't understand that my heart is not his to claim, and he becomes angry when I refuse his proposals. Last night, I just couldn't bear the thought of him any longer, so...I ran away."
The Prince's gaze remained intense, and he probed further, "Is there more to it? Something specific that he has done that has made you so wary of him?"
Belle took a deep breath and revealed, "He has manipulated the villagers against us, Your Highness. He would stop at nothing to have me, I fear. I do not want to go back home, sir."
The Prince's expression darkened as he absorbed the gravity of Belle's words. It was clear that the situation was far more complex than he had initially thought.
After a brief silence, the Prince spoke with a newfound understanding, "You have my sympathy. No one should have to endure such a situation, lady. There is a way you'd not have to return."
Belle's eyes widened with a glimmer of hope as she looked at the Prince, her unexpected savior. "Your Highness, forgive me, but what can be done? I don't wish to cause you or your servants any more trouble, but I cannot go back to that life when I know what awaits me there. Gaston is relentless. He will not stop until I've married him."
The Prince's expression was thoughtful for a moment as he studied Belle intently before he spoke. "I have been searching for a girl for some time to tend to the rooms here in the castle. They are of considerable size and quite large, I've yet to find a girl who could manage them properly, but I suppose you'll do nicely enough, that is, if you don't wish to return to your Gaston."
Belle felt the color drain from her face as she processed the Prince's unexpected demand. She had not anticipated this.
Her gratitude was evident in her eyes and her voice as she replied, "Thank you, Your Highness. I accept. I never expected to find kindness in such an unexpected place. I promise I will not let you down, Monsieur."
Belle turned her attention to her father, who had been listening to the conversation. He looked torn between the desire to have his daughter home and his deep-rooted concern for her well-being.
Finally, he spoke with a heavy heart, "Belle, I don't want to lose you, but I can understand your reasons for wanting to stay. If you believe that staying here is the safest option for you, then so be it. I will return home and revoke my agreement to allow Gaston to have your hand in marriage. Your safety and happiness mean more to me than anything else, Belle."
Tears welled up in Belle's eyes as she realized the depth of her father's love and sacrifice. She embraced him tightly and whispered, "Thank you, Papa. I love you, and I promise to visit whenever I can."
The Prince nodded in approval of Belle's decision, and a small but seemingly genuine smile graced his lips.
Belle's heart fluttered painfully against her chest, but she had no time to dwell on the unfamiliar sensation as the Prince spoke, "Very well, then. I shall consult with Monsieur Cogsworth, whom you'll meet later to make the necessary arrangements for your accommodations and your duties. You will have the freedom to explore the castle and grounds, but I ask that you respect the privacy of certain areas, specifically, the West Wing and that of the basement."
Belle could only nod in agreement and watched as the Prince began to lead Maurice away from the hall and to the courtyard, with the Prince announcing that a carriage would escort Maurice home.
Belle followed closely behind, and as Maurice reluctantly stepped inside the lavish black carriage, his heart was heavy but understanding of Belle's choice, and prayed he would see her again soon. The Prince watched stoically as the carriage departed the castle grounds and then turned back to Belle once the carriage was out of sight.
"Welcome to the castle, Belle," he said, his tone softer than before. "If you need anything, do not hesitate to seek me out. You're not just a servant here now; you're a guest."
Belle nodded, her determination unwavering. "Thank you, Your Highness. I won't forget your kindness." With a deep breath, she prepared herself for this unexpected new chapter in her life. As Belle observed the Prince begin to walk back towards the castle with his cane, leaning heavily on it for support, her curiosity was piqued.
She couldn't help but wonder what might have caused such an injury in a young man who appeared no older than twenty-one or so
Belle, her curiosity getting the best of her, decided to approach the subject delicately.
"Your Highness," she began nervously, "forgive me, if you don't mind my asking, but what happened to your leg, Monsieur? I couldn't help but notice the cane you use, and I'm curious, sir."
The Prince's expression darkened, and his eyes flashed with a surge of sudden anger, nearly reminding her of Gaston, and Belle flinched. He pulled the cane closer, almost as if to shield it from her view, and his tone turned clipped and defensive. "It's of no concern to you, lady, and you have no right to ask about it. "Let's not dwell on such matters."
Belle's cheeks burned with embarrassment as she immediately realized her misstep and regretted her inquiry. She quickly apologized, "I'm sorry, Your Highness. I didn't mean to pry. It's just that…I was genuinely concerned."
The Prince's anger seemed to subside slightly, and he sighed. "It's a painful reminder of a past I'd rather forget. Let's leave it at that."
With that, he turned away, and Belle understood that there were some wounds, both physical and emotional, that were not meant to be probed.
Belle watched the Prince as he left her standing in the castle courtyard, whatever was on his mind currently still haunting him. She wished she could take back her question, but there was no turning back now. As he walked away, she felt a mixture of curiosity, sympathy, and a growing determination to uncover the secrets hidden within these castle walls.
The courtyard, bathed in the soft glow of the cool morning autumnal sun, held an air of both enchantment and mystery.
Belle took a deep breath and decided to explore her new surroundings, determined to make the most of her unexpected journey into this castle filled with secrets and a Prince seemingly in need of redemption.