A Baker (Beauty and the Beast)

The Revival

Belle spluttered, leaning to the side as water gushed from her lungs   back into the open air. She gulped in a breath of fresh air, feeling  her  hair be moved to the side. Her vision cleared slightly, seeing a   familiar face.

"Tristan," she whispered, reaching out towards him.

"It's okay," he soothed as he wrapped a ringlet of her hair around his finger.

"Belle!" her mother cried, running to her side and collasping on the floor. "I knew this wasn't a good idea."

"I'm alright," Belle stuttered though her chattering teeth disputed the fact.

Her   mother helped her up, allowing her daughter to lean completely on her.   "And to think I was about to give into your father," her mother  snorted,  glaring at Tristan. "I thought you were worthy of my  daughter."

Belle  wrapped her mother's ashened shawl around her  shoulders though it  soaked through instantly. She shook as her mother  helped her walk the  path she'd bounded down so many times. Her weight  rested on her mother  and Belle looked rather like an old woman as she  hobbled down the path.

She  didn't resist as her mother  ordered her to bed, stripping off her wet  dress and tucking her under  the covers. Belle stilled her shaking hands  and tried to hold a thought  in her head long enough to question what had  happened.

Belle  pushed the sheet away, tidying the  room up. She couldn't believe how  tired she was, nor could she  comprehend what had occured before her  very eyes yesterday. She moved  downstairs though she lacked the energy  for her usual arrival.

Her parents were stoking the fire and had already made breakfast. Belle greeted them and slipped onto the spare chair.

"You should be in bed," her father stated.

Belle   shook her head adamently, "I've spent long enough sleeping. I missed   half of the day because of my fatigue but now I'm cured."

"What happened?" her mother interrupted. "Your sisters said that you tripped over a tree root."

Belle's   eyes shot up. Why hadn't her sisters told the truth? Belle would have   in the same circumstances. She sighed, internally knowing that her   sisters weren't similar to her. She'd denied it long enough but   sometimes she had to question how they had the same parents.

"I   did," Belle whispered, glancing down at her bowl. She focused on  eating  the porridge, knowing that she needed the energy to recover.

Her   mother rose to stand by the window. She watched as her mother frowned,   sharing a look with her father. "Which one?" her father queried,  rising  to stand beside his wife.

"Stay here," her mother cautioned, kissing her forehead and pressing her back into the chair.

Belle  sat back. She could never go against her parent's wishes, not when they  had only ever wished for the best for her.  Still that didn't mean she  couldn't creep to the window to see who they  was rolling up in the  extravagant carriage. Nor did it mean she couldn't  push it slightly  further ajar. After all, her parents never kept  secrets from her. Belle  had always known more about their finances than  they had.

Belle  gasped as the King stepped out of the carriage, thanking everything in  the world that no one looked towards the house window. Why would they?  Her parents were standing outside the house, prepared to greet them. Her  father had his arm slung around her mother's waist protectively.

He stepped out of the carriage, marching towards her parents.

"Your  majesty," her parents bowed and curtesied respectively, her father's  hand sliding off from around her mother's waist to do so.