BELLE awoke to the frigid cold of her cell with a start, the uneasy remnants of her dreams clinging to her like cobwebs. She had dreamt of her father, of shadows and figures in the night, and now, the sound of approaching footsteps echoing through the dungeon sent shivers down her spine. Fear gripped her heart as she imagined the worst: perhaps the Prince had returned, his anger still simmering, ready to unleash its wrath upon her once more for her mistake.
As the lock clicked and the heavy door creaked open, Belle's eyes snapped open, her body tensing instinctively. But instead of the Prince's imposing figure as she had expected to see, she was met with the unexpected sight of his loyal servants—Mrs. Potts, Cogsworth, and Lumiere—bearing a tray of breakfast that was intended to be hers.
Confusion warred with the remnants of her fear as Belle watched them enter. Mrs. Potts's eyes were filled with sorrow, Cogsworth's with regret, and Lumiere's with a flicker of sympathy as they regarded her huddled in the corner.
"We…we are truly sorry for what happened, my dear," Mrs. Potts began, her voice trembling slightly with emotion.
Belle's brow furrowed in disbelief. "Sorry?" she echoed, her voice tinged with bitterness. "Sorry for your master throwing me into the dungeons like a common criminal?"
Cogsworth winced at her words, his weathered features contorting into a pained expression. "Please, mademoiselle, it was not the master's intention to—"
But Belle cut him off with a sharp gesture, her hurt too raw to bear their attempts at justification for the Prince's decision to imprison her overnight in the dungeons.
"I don't want to hear excuses for him," she interjected, her voice wavering with suppressed emotions. "I know that I made a mistake in entering the West Wing, but I never expected he would…I never expected to be treated like this."
Her words hung heavy in the air, a palpable tension settling over the room as the servants exchanged guilty glances. Belle's gaze softened slightly as she saw the remorse etched upon their faces. Despite her anger, she couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy for them.
Mrs. Potts hesitated, her eyes searching Belle's face for any hint of what had transpired between her and the Prince in the forbidden wing of the castle.
Finally, unable to contain her curiosity any longer, she asked in a soft voice, "My dear, if you don't mind me asking, what exactly happened in the West Wing?"
Belle hesitated, unsure of how much she should reveal. The weight of her discovery bore heavily upon her, and she knew that sharing the truth would only add to the burden carried by the Prince's loyal servants. But a part of her also longed for someone to confide in, someone who might understand the turmoil that churned within her.
Belle paused, considering her words carefully. She knew she couldn't keep the truth hidden, not from these loyal servants who had shown her kindness from the moment she arrived at the castle.
"I... I found something... disturbing," she began, her voice trembling slightly. "A portrait of the Duke, with a knife driven into the Duke's likeness's throat."
Gasps of shock escaped the servants as they exchanged horrified glances with one another. Lumiere's expression was particularly stricken, his features contorted in disbelief.
"The master has always had a temper, Cherie, that is no secret, but…why would he do such a thing?" Lumiere murmured, his voice filled with concern and fear. "I fear the master is becoming less human every day and more a beast than a man."
Belle shook her head, her mind still reeling from the revelation.
"I don't know," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "But it's clear to me that his hurt and anger run deeper than perhaps you all realized since you seem to know him the best."
Mrs. Potts reached out a comforting hand, her eyes filled with sympathy.
"Oh, my dear," she said softly, "you poor thing. You must have been terrified."
Belle nodded, grateful for the warmth of the older woman's touch. "I was," she admitted, her voice tinged with sadness. "But I couldn't ignore what I saw. The Prince…he needs help."
The servants exchanged solemn glances, a silent understanding passing between them. Despite their fear and uncertainty, they knew they couldn't turn their backs on their master in his time of need.
"We will do whatever it takes to help him," Lumiere declared, his voice filled with determination.
Belle shook her head, a mixture of fear and concern clouding her thoughts as she recalled the cutting words the Prince had said to her last night in his anger.
She couldn't shake off the image of the Prince's violent outburst, nor the chilling realization that she didn't know what could assuage his anguish.
"I'm afraid," she whispered, her voice quivering uncertainly. "Afraid for you all because I don't know what he needs. What outlet could temper his anger and soothe his pain?"
Mrs. Potts squeezed her hand gently, offering a reassuring presence.
"It's natural to feel that way, my dear," she said softly. "But perhaps what the master needs most right now is understanding and compassion. He's been burdened by his demons for far too long, even before his father passed away weeks ago."
Lumiere nodded in agreement, his expression grave.
"Indeed, and it falls to us to show that he's not alone in his struggle," he said firmly. "We must find a way to reach him, to help him see there's hope beyond his suffering."
Belle took a deep breath, trying to steady her nerves, her anxiety palpable.
"But how?" she asked, her voice laced with doubt. "I don't think it will be me who can help him, monsieur. I fully expect to be turned out of the castle this morning," she admitted, her words heavy with resignation. "Neither of you saw how furious he was with me last night…when he…when he found me."
Her voice trailed off, memories of the Prince's anger flooding back. She remembered the searing intensity in his eyes, the way his voice thundered through the chamber of the West Wing as he lashed out in rage. It was a side of him she never wanted to see again, yet feared she might.
Mrs. Potts placed a comforting hand on Belle's shoulder, her expression filled with sympathy.
"Don't lose hope, my dear," she urged gently. "The Prince may be troubled, but he's not without compassion. I know that you have known him but a day at best, but you must give him a chance to see that."
Lumiere nodded fervently, his determination unwavering. "Agreed. And if he is to turn anyone out, it won't be you," he declared. "We'll stand together, united in our resolve to help him find his way back to the light."
Belle's heart swelled with gratitude at their unwavering support. Despite the uncertainty of the future, she found solace in the knowledge that she wasn't facing it alone.
With renewed determination, she steeled herself for whatever challenges lay ahead, ready to confront them head-on alongside her loyal newfound friends.
"Come away with us, Belle, back upstairs," Mrs. Potts urged gently, her voice filled with concern. "You've spent far too long in this wretched cell, my dear. You'll catch a cold or worse if you stay down here a moment longer, this cage is no place for a lady like you."
Lumiere nodded in agreement, his expression earnest. "Mrs. Potts is right, ma chère. It's not safe for you to linger in the dampness of this dungeon," he added, a note of urgency in his voice. "Let's get you upstairs where it's warm. The master wishes to speak with you anyway."
Belle hesitated, torn between her desire to escape the oppressive atmosphere of the dungeon and her apprehension about what awaited her above. Yet, she knew she couldn't stay imprisoned in fear forever.
Taking a deep breath, she nodded gratefully at her friends. "Thank you," she whispered, her voice trembling slightly. "I... I trust you."
With their support, Belle rose from her cold, stone seat, feeling a glimmer of hope ignite within her. Whatever challenges lay ahead, she knew she wouldn't face them alone.
As the servants escorted Belle out of the dungeons and toward the dining hall, they did their best to offer words of encouragement, assuring her that everything would be alright. With hesitant steps, Belle entered the grand hall, her heart pounding with apprehension.
Once inside, Mrs. Potts turned to her, a warm, hopeful smile gracing her tired features.
"Now, my dear, just wait here for the Prince. He'll join you shortly," she said gently, before exchanging a meaningful glance with Lumiere and Cogsworth.
With that, the three servants left Belle alone in the vast dining hall, the grandeur of the room feeling somehow hollow in her solitude. She took a seat at the ornate table, feeling a wave of loneliness wash over her as she waited in silence.
The minutes seemed to stretch into eternity as Belle sat there, her thoughts swirling with uncertainty. She couldn't shake the feeling of foreboding that lingered in the air, nor the gnawing fear of what the Prince's reaction would be towards her when he finally arrived.
Finally, the heavy doors creaked open, and Belle's heart leaped with anticipation at the sound of the resounding loud creak. Belle's heart skipped a beat as she hastily rose from her seat, her eyes fixed on the imposing figure entering the room. It was him—the Prince.
His presence commanded the space as he strode into the hall with an air of authority, his sharp features etched with an inscrutable expression.
Belle couldn't help but feel a pang of anxiety at the sight of the Prince, her mind flooded with memories of his wrath from the night before. For a moment, they simply stood there, locked in a tense silence, each searching the other's eyes for answers that remained elusive.
Then, finally, the Prince spoke, his voice low and measured.
"I trust that you slept well in the dungeons?" he asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm, his eyes this morning betraying a hint of the storm brewing within him.
Belle felt a surge of adrenaline, realizing that the Prince was attempting to provoke a reaction from her. With a steady gaze, she met his eyes, refusing to be drawn into his game. "As well as one can in such surroundings, sir," she replied evenly, careful to keep her tone neutral.
The Prince's expression remained impassive, but Belle could see a flicker of something in his eyes—a spark of frustration, perhaps, at her composed response. She knew that beneath his composed façade, emotions churned within him tumultuously, and she would likely be on the receiving end of another of his outbursts if she weren't careful with her words.
Without another word, the Prince took his seat at the opposite end of the table, the distance between them a tangible barrier. Belle couldn't help but feel a pang of disappointment at the missed opportunity for genuine communication, but she remained resolute in her determination to uncover the truth behind the Prince's troubled demeanor. Belle's voice trembled slightly as she broke the tense silence, her nerves getting the better of her.
"Are you…are you going to send me away for my mistake of going into the West Wing last night?" she asked, her words careful but laced with apprehension.
The Prince's expression remained stoic, but Belle could see the smoldering embers of anger still burning in his eyes. His jaw tensed, and for a moment, she feared his wrath would be unleashed once more. Instead, he spoke with a chilling calmness that sent shivers down Belle's spine.
"Sending you away would be the easiest course of action," he said, his voice like ice. "But I am not known for taking the easy path."
Belle swallowed hard, her heart pounding in her chest. She knew she had overstepped her boundaries by entering the forbidden West Wing, but she hadn't expected the Prince's reaction to be so severe. The weight of his disappointment bore down on her like a heavy stone.
"I…I'm sorry, sir," she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper. "I-I didn't mean to intrude. I was just…"
But the Prince cut her off with a sharp gesture, his patience wearing thin. "Enough," he said curtly. "Your apologies mean nothing if you do not understand the gravity of your actions."
Belle bit her lip, her gaze falling to her lap as shame washed over her. She had hoped for forgiveness, but now she realized the extent of the damage she had caused.
And as she sat there, under the Prince's unwavering scrutiny, she knew that earning his trust once more would be no easy task.
Belle mustered the courage to lift her gaze once more, meeting the Prince's stern eyes with a mix of apprehension and resignation.
"If you aren't going to send me away, then what punishment am I to receive?" she asked, her voice steady despite the turmoil churning within her.
The Prince's expression softened imperceptibly, though the edge of his frustration remained palpable. "Punishment is not always the answer," he replied, his tone measured. "But there must be consequences for your actions."
Belle nodded, understanding the gravity of the situation. She had trespassed where she was forbidden, and she was prepared to accept whatever penance the Prince deemed necessary.
"Tell me," the Prince continued, his gaze unwavering. "Why did you go into the West Wing when you knew it was forbidden?"
Belle hesitated, grappling with how much to reveal. She couldn't divulge her growing concern for the Prince's well-being. But she also couldn't bear to lie to him.
"I was…curious," she admitted finally, choosing her words carefully. "I wanted to understand why it was off-limits, and…I suppose I was hoping to find some answers."
The Prince regarded her thoughtfully for a moment, his expression inscrutable. Then, with a resigned sigh, he spoke, his voice softer now, tinged with a hint of vulnerability.
"Your name, girl, what is it?"
Belle blinked in surprise at the unexpected question.
"Belle, sir," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper.
The Prince nodded, a fleeting expression of recognition crossing his features.
"Belle," he repeated slowly as if testing the sound of her name on his lips. Then, after a moment's hesitation, he asked, "What do you think of me, Belle?"
Belle's heart constricted at the raw honesty in the Prince's question. She saw the turmoil in his eyes, whether or not he was aware of it, the flicker of doubt between his mask of authority.
And in that moment, she thought she was beginning to understand the weight of the Prince's loneliness, the burden of his isolation.
She remembered she owed the Prince an answer to the question he had posed to her. She would have wanted to lie, but despite her best efforts to contain her honesty, the truth was ripped from her lips before she could stop herself from saying it.
"Cruel," she replied, her voice gentle but unwavering. "But you do not have to be that way."
The Prince's demeanor shifted, a mixture of surprise and contemplation flickering across his features. It was as if her words had penetrated the walls he had carefully constructed around himself, stirring something deep within him.
For a moment, they simply regarded each other in silence, the weight of their exchange hanging heavily in the air. In that fragile moment of honesty, Belle dared to hope that perhaps, just perhaps, there was a chance for change—for both of them.
As Belle awaited the Prince's response, her heart pounded in her chest, her anticipation mingled with a thread of apprehension. She watched as his expression shifted from contemplation to annoyance, a dark cloud passing over his features.
"Cruel? You think me cruel? You have yet to truly see the extent of it, you naive, foolish girl," he snapped, his voice tinged with frustration. "You have no idea what true cruelty is."
Belle's breath caught in her throat at the sudden change in his demeanor, her stomach knotting with unease. She had hoped her words might reach him, but now, she feared she had only angered him further. The Prince's wintry blue eyes bore into hers with an intensity that made her shrink back slightly, her pulse quickening with every passing moment.
"I could be so much crueler to you, Belle," he continued, his tone chilling. "But I won't. I am many things, but I am not like my father. If I were, I could have given you a beating for overstepping your place."
Despite his assurances, Belle couldn't shake the feeling of dread that settled over her like a suffocating blanket. She braced herself for his next words, knowing that whatever punishment he deemed fit would weigh heavily upon her.
With a steely gaze, the Prince continued, his tone cutting like a blade.
"For your trespass into the forbidden West Wing," he declared, "you will be confined to the castle's highest tower until further notice, until such a time when I decide to send for you."
Belle's heart sank as she heard his decree. The highest tower of any castle was a place of solitude and isolation, far removed from the warmth and comfort of the castle below. She knew the punishment was severe, but she also understood its necessity.
With a heavy heart, Belle nodded in acceptance, her eyes betraying the flicker of defiance within her. As the Prince turned to leave, seemingly done with their conversation and with her for the moment, a sense of resignation settled over Belle.
But as he made to turn away, something within her compelled her to speak.
"Thank you," she blurted out, her words clumsy and blunt, her voice barely above a whisper, yet she knew that the Prince had heard it by the way he paused mid-stride and turned back to look at her. His expression shifted from cold resolve to genuine surprise and confusion.
He turned back to face her, his eyes narrowing in disbelief.
"Thank you?" he echoed, his tone incredulous.
Belle flushed with embarrassment, realizing how her words must sound to him. She hadn't meant to express gratitude for her punishment, but rather, for the glimpse of humanity she had seen him, however fleeting it may have been, as he made the decision not to send her away, as she had feared that he would.
"I…I mean…" she stammered, struggling to find the right words. "Thank you, sir, for…for not sending me away. For still giving me a chance to repay the debt I owe you, in time. Thank you for not being even crueler than you already are."
The Prince regarded her for a long moment, his gaze searching hers as if trying to decipher her true intentions. Then, to Belle's surprise, a flicker of something resembling understanding crossed his features.
Without another word, the Prince turned and continued on his way, leaving Belle standing alone in the grand hall, her heart racing with a mixture of confusion and hope. She couldn't shake the feeling that their exchange had shifted something between them, however imperceptibly.
And as she prepared to face her confinement in the castle's highest tower, she clung to the faint glimmer of possibility that perhaps, just perhaps, there was still a chance for redemption—for both of them. As Belle stood alone in the grand hall once more, contemplating the implications of her punishment, a stern-looking guard appeared at the doorway. Beside him stood Lumiere, his expression a mixture of outrage and concern.
"Mademoiselle Belle, I am to escort you to your confinement," the guard announced, his tone brooking no argument.
Lumiere stepped forward, his anger palpable. "This is preposterous!" he exclaimed, gesturing emphatically. "Sending her to the tower? Was the dungeons last night not enough punishment for one transgression?"
Belle felt a surge of gratitude toward Lumiere for his impassioned defense, but she knew it would do little to sway the Prince's decision. With a resigned sigh, she nodded to the guard, indicating her readiness to comply. As they made their way through the corridors of the castle, Belle couldn't help but feel a sense of foreboding at the prospect of her impending isolation. She stole a glance at Lumiere, who walked beside her, his features etched with concern.
"Don't worry, Mademoiselle Belle," Lumiere whispered, his voice filled with reassurance. "We will find a way to rectify this injustice, I promise you."
Belle offered him a weak smile, grateful for his unwavering support. Though she knew the road ahead would be difficult, she took solace in the knowledge that she wasn't facing it alone.
"Thank you, Lumiere," Belle murmured gratefully, her voice tinged with emotion. "And please, thank the others for me as well. I appreciate all of your concern and support."
Lumiere nodded solemnly, his eyes reflecting genuine care for her well-being. "Of course, Mademoiselle Belle. But please, if there is anything we can do…."
Belle shook her head, interrupting him gently. "No, Lumiere's that's not necessary, I'll be fine," she reassured him, summoning a small smile despite her apprehension. "I don't want any of you getting into trouble because of me. I'll endure this, and when the time comes, I'll find a way to make things right."
As they arrived at the tower's entrance, the guard gestured for Belle to enter while Lumiere volunteered to accompany her further.
Without protest, the guard agreed and departed, leaving Belle under Lumiere's watch.
Giving Lumiere one last look, she straightened her posture and walked forward into the tower, resolved to confront her captivity with bravery and fortitude.
Out of the corner of her gaze, she saw that Lumiere's brow was furrowed in worry and concern. He parted his lips as if to speak, however, it took him a moment to find his voice.
"I cannot let this stand, Mademoiselle Belle," he insisted, his voice tinged with determination. "I have let the master get away with much, too much, in my opinion, but this has gone too far. I promise, come nightfall, I will return for you. We'll sneak you out for a walk around the grounds, if nothing else, to give you some fresh air and the chance to stretch your legs."
Belle's eyes widened in surprise at his audacious plan, but she couldn't deny the flicker of hope it ignited within her.
"Lumiere, you can't," Belle protested softly, touched by his unwavering loyalty. "It's too dangerous for you."
But Lumiere shook his head, determination flashing in his eyes. "Let me worry about the master, mademoiselle, as it is my job to do so. I cannot and will not let this stand, ma chère."
"Thank you, Lumiere, but…are you sure, sir?" she whispered gratefully, her voice barely above a whisper.
With a reassuring smile, Lumiere placed a finger to his lips, urging her to silence as the guard's footsteps drew near. "Quickly now, Mademoiselle Belle," he whispered conspiratorially, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. "We'll see you soon."
With a nod, Belle slipped into the tower, her heart buoyed by the prospect of freedom that awaited her under the cloak of darkness.
Lumiere's words echoed in her mind as she settled in to wait, resolved to endure her confinement with patience until the moment of their daring escape.
As Belle settled by the tower window, a wistful sigh escaped her lips as her thoughts drifted to her father, back home in their quiet village she had once scorned and dreamt of leaving.
Now, compared to this tower, their home, and the villagers seemed like paradise. She wondered if her father missed her as much as she missed him and if he worried about her safety in this unfamiliar place.
But alongside her father's image came that of Gaston.
She shuddered at the thought of him, his persistent advances and his inability to accept her refusal still fresh in her mind.
Belle muttered to herself, "Even being trapped in this tower is better than marrying Gaston," a shiver running down her spine at the notion of becoming little more to him than a trophy wife.
She closed her eyes briefly, offering a silent prayer that Gaston would leave her father alone during her absence. She couldn't bear the thought of her father enduring Gaston's relentless pressure in her stead.
With a heavy heart, she turned her gaze back to the window, hoping that time would slip through her fingers like grains of sand, and soon, she would see a glimpse of Lumiere's promised liberation under the veil of night.
With a heavy sigh, Belle resigned herself to her solitude, the weight of her circumstances pressing down upon her. She knew the night would bring its challenges and uncertainties, but for now, she found solace in the quiet stillness of the tower. As she watched the sky darken outside her window, Belle's thoughts drifted to the promise of freedom that Lumiere had offered. With a flicker of hope in her heart, she awaited the arrival of nightfall, knowing that despite the trials that lay ahead, she would face them with courage and determination.
As the stars began to twinkle in the sky, casting their gentle glow over the castle grounds, Belle closed her eyes, allowing herself to dream of the day when she would once again walk freely beneath the open sky.
As Belle sat by the window, lost in her thoughts, a soft rap on the door startled her. Lumiere entered, a sense of urgency in his demeanor, holding out a heavy, thick, woolen brown cloak.
"Quickly, Mademoiselle Belle," Lumiere urged in a hushed tone, his eyes darting around cautiously. "Put this on and pull the hood over your face. Follow me, but remember, silence is paramount. Do exactly as I tell you."
Belle nodded, understanding the gravity of the situation. She draped the cloak around her shoulders, pulling the hood over her head to conceal her features.
With a nervous glance towards the door, she rose from her seat and followed Lumiere, her heart pounding with anticipation and apprehension.
With silent footsteps, they made their way through the dimly lit corridors of the castle, Lumiere leading the way with practiced stealth. Belle clung to the shadows, her senses on high alert as they passed unnoticed by the other inhabitants of the castle.
As they reached the courtyard, Lumiere paused, casting a cautious glance around before motioning for Belle to follow him into the cool night air. With each step, Belle felt the weight of her confinement lifting, replaced by a rush of exhilaration and freedom.
Together, they slipped away from the castle, the darkness of the night enveloping them like a protective cloak as Belle allowed Lumiere to spirit her away from her prison.