Reddest Rose

Chapter Six

Belle followed Cogsworth down the hall, unable to stop twisting her hands together. She took one step for every four steps he did, and kept her head down. She wanted to speak, to ask why inanimate objects were walking and talking and behaving like servants, but worried that a demand for freedom would erupt instead. They turned left and she realized they were heading back towards the kitchen. The little clock cleared its - his - throat and a pair of doors swung open without a sound. The young woman looked up finally and couldn't help but gasp. Was the room before her for dining or dancing? Twin chandeliers lit the room with a golden glow, and the walls were painted a deep, warm maroon. Cogsworth led her to one high backed chair and did his best to pull it out for her to sit. Directly to her left, parallel with a table large enough for twenty, was a fireplace that could have easily consumed her father's stable. Above it hung a painting of a woman sitting on a marble bench that looked suspiciously like the one she'd tripped over.

Beast did not stand to greet her. He glowered from his place at one end of the opulently decorated table while she pulled herself closer. The tablecloth was silk she realized, a deep purple and hemmed with a thick border of gold. There were more silver trays than she could guess what to do with. Anxiously she pulled some of her curls over her shoulder and ran her fingers through. Did he...did he expect her to say something? She looked around uncertainly and watched Cogsworth climb the mantel over the fireplace and tap on a three-armed golden candelabra with leaf-shaped accents. It opened eyes she wouldn't have seen otherwise that appeared to be sculpted in the middle and tallest candle, its other two it waved in a sort of bow.

"We would like to welcome our guest in the best way we know how," It said suddenly. "With, a dinner," All at once every lid suddenly lifted and rolled itself away and out the doors. There were roasted game hens basted with butter and herbs until the meat crackled and spit, the smell of them wafting towards her in the most pleasing of ways. She could smell cured meats and sausages, and saw what she assumed were mussels steamed in white wine - something her father had told her of when he visited the ports. There were platters of fruit so colorful she could only name three of them, namely the strawberries, apples and grapes, and fresh-baked bread. There was a tureen of steaming, thick soup of barley and venison that smelled of home; one of sweet onion covered in cheese, and salads of sweetgrass and spinach and plums sprinkled with crushed nuts; snails in honey and garlic; sweetbreads and pigeon pie, baked apples fragrant with cinnamon, and lemon cakes frosted in sugar. The bottles of wine poured themselves into a glass at her hand, and little golden forks and spoons served her from every dish offered.

She used her index finger to taste some soft, grey stuff that was absolutely delicious, but lost her appetite the moment Beast began to eat. He was ravenous and sloppy, cutlery long forgotten and instead being careful to only not break the dishes. Soup matted the fur around his mouth, and bones began to litter the floor at his feet as he tore through several of the small chickens. Her stomach flopped and she pressed a hand to her breastbone before taking a sip of the wine. It was sharp and smooth, the flavor not only grapes but of something exotic and spiced.

"Must you carry on that way?" She asked finally, blotting her mouth dry with a napkin.

Beast looked up at her and scowled around a mouthful of pigeon pie. "Eat,"

"I'd rather not, actually," She set her napkin on the table, straightening in her seat.

"It wasn't a request," He pointed to the tray of otherwise appealing lemon cakes.

"I'm not hungry," Her cheeks were growing warmer.

"If you don't eat with me, you won't eat at all!"

"Fine!" She pushed herself to her feet and flinched slightly when he did as well, his chair flying back across the floor.

"Then starve!" He roared, flinging a metal tray at her. It flew past her left ear when she narrowly flinched out of the way, and bolted for the door. Dishes were fleeing, silverware was rattling on the table. Beast roared and as she yanked open one of the huge doors, she saw him hurl the table across the room. It scraped along the floor, the table cloth tore, and then she was running faster than she'd ever thought she could move. Blinded by tears and anger, the only familiar way was back to the room she'd been 'given'. She barred herself in, managing to lock the doors before anyone arrived.

She'd done it with no time to spare, because almost the second the bolt slid into place she could hear Beast roaring and pounding on the other side. She backed away towards the bed, her hands shaking. "Go away!"

"This is my home! How dare you come here and make a fool of me! I was being kind! I made a dinner for you, I had clothes made for you, and now you refuse my kindness?" Almost every word was punctuated with a strike on the door so sharp she thought she saw the wood bend. "You can't stay in there forever!"

"Yes I can! I would rather starve in here than spend a moment with you!" She managed to choke out the words, reached blindly for something and felt her fingers wrap around the neck of a vase. It didn't move, so with the mad hope it wasn't alive she threw it at the door. The crystal shattered, leaving wet petals and water dripping down the wood. The noise on the other side of the door stopped. She thought she could maybe hear low voices murmuring together, then the heavy thud-thud-thud of Beast's foot steps fading away. Belle swayed on her feet, then turned and stumbled for the enormous bed. Collapsing onto it, she didn't bother to remove the dress. Instead she buried herself in the duvet and the silk of her gown, and prayed that sleep would find her. For a short time, she did.

Then there were three, soft and distinct knocks on the door.

Belle rose slowly, the candles dripping wax down the holder and onto the floor. The light in the room was low, but she was able to make her way to the door. She felt like she was dreaming, and when she noticed opened the door the realization struck her. Of course she was dreaming. Before her stood the most handsome man she'd ever laid eyes on. His copper hair fell in perfect waves just beneath his ears. His bright blue eyes were focused so intently, that she almost didn't see the ghost of a smile he wore or the tray of welcoming food in his hands. He was taller by at least a head's height, and dressed in a blue and gold pair of trousers, torn at the knee. Although he was shirtless, it was his eyes that caught and held her like a vice. Where had she seen them before?

"I'm Adam," He said, the words coming through a fog.

"Belle..." Was she actually speaking? It was such a pleasant dream, but her tongue felt too heavy in her mouth. "Won't you come in?"

"Yes, thank you," He moved in past her and set the tray on the table by the window before giving her a bow. She returned with what she felt was a perfect curtsy. "Belle, I would like to apologize for the actions of the Beast. He is unused to other people, and his anger has only grown over his years of solitude. Please be kind to him, and gentle with him. He will come to see you for the blessing you are, not the curse he believes now," He'd stepped so close she could smell him - an intoxicating scent of sunlight and musk that had her falling.

She wasn't at all surprised when he caught her, and when he carried her towards the bed she merely smiled. It was a very nice dream. She rested her head on his chest and closed her eyes, enjoying the feeling of his fingers combing through her hair. "You want me to be nice to Beast?" She felt Adam's lips on her cheek and couldn't help but sigh.

"He needs kindness, Belle. He needs a friend," His words came more distantly now, from the other side of the valley rather than through a fog. His voice was the call of the doves as the sun crept over the snow covered hills. "He needs love,"

Belle sat up then, wide awake and alert, to see only the sun shining into her room. The doors were shut and bolted, and the candles had burned themselves into mere lumps of wax. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes and frowned. She'd never had such a nice, real dream before. It took some work to push back the tangle of blankets and make her way to the window. Now with morning light shed upon the grounds, it was even more striking than the night before. Eager to change into something more suitable she turned for the dresser - and saw a silver tray resting on her table. She lifted the lid to find fruit, cheese and bread. A tin mug of cider was present as well, which she could easily warm with a poker from the fire. But...where had it come from?

She put a hand to her cheek and lifted a single, pink rose from the tray. Its petals were just beginning to unfurl. What was going on in this castle?

To clarify quickly, in the original telling of Beauty & The Beast, Belle was visited in her dreams by a handsome Prince who begged her - again and again - to give the Beast one more chance. He was so real to her that she actually began to hunt through the castle for what she believed was Beast's captive.