A Baker (Beauty and the Beast)

The Banquet

"I don't know where to begin," Jack stuttered.

Belle observed him carefully, noticing how he refused to meet her eyes. He was gazing behind her, out the grand sash windows, and into the gardens behind. She took pity on him. She could never stand to make others uncomfortable.

"Start with your name," she pressed, rearragning her skirt about her. It fell into place with an ease that could hardly be disputed.

Jack nodded as he took that in. He took a deep breath in preparation for the words he was about to let slip from his lips. "Tristan. Tristan Jack Harrington."

Belle gasped. She pushed herself off the sofa, staring at him in shock. "Don't lie to me," she muttered, holding her hands in front of her.

Tristan let his head slip into his hands. His posture slumped from his perfect pose. He ran his hands through his hair, letting it become tossled. It slipped into his eyes and he didn't move to correct it. That was all Belle needed to know.

"You are," she whispered. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"You didn't know who I was," Tristan declared, looking her in the eye for the first time since she'd demanded he tell her the truth.

Belle shrugged. "You lied to me."

"I did not mean to. Believe me, if I had another chance I would not."

"But you did," Belle stated, falling onto the sofa opposite.

Tristan sat forwards, taking her hands into his. Belle let him. Even if she had wanted to, she couldn't gather the strength to disagree with him. Not now. "Belle, listen to me." he entreated, forcing her to look up from where their hands were joined.

"When I met you, you looked at me as though I was any other man." Tristan declared, his voice hypnotising her into listening. "If I'd told you who I was, you would have looked at me differently."

Belle took that in, understanding where he was coming from. When she was reading, nothing else mattered. No one could judge her on her family or where she came from. When she'd moved to the castle, she could start afresh with people who didn't know her family. That had been more refreshing than she'd let herself admit.

"You were this capable and independent woman." Belle's attention snapped back to the present, shaking her head.

Tristan smiled weakly. "You stopped me from thinking about everything else. I'm in love with you."

Belle's voice caught in her throat. She pulled her hands back, trying to get her thoughts straight. She forced herself to move to the window, remembering all the times in the past few months she'd taken the same pose by the wall to recover from Lucius' onslaught of knowledge.

She leant back against the shutter, sliding herself onto the window seat. Belle closed her eyes, imagining she was home.

The fire sounded the same as it roared around the kitchen. The stench of the farm filled her nostrils, mixed with the aromas from the latest bake. Her mother bumbled around the kitchen singing sweet lullabys. The sound of her father stomping in at the end of the day. Her sisters following him not far behind, giggling in delight at the result of their day.

Her parents would know what to say. They'd know what to tell her. They'd know how to calm her down. They'd know what she should do.

"Belle," Tristan murmured, breaking her from her trance.

"Ja-Tristan," Belle stopped herself half-way. She didn't need to confuse herself any further.

"You were falling off the window seat," Tristan explained.