lamenthatic

I HAVE NOT QUIT MY FIC, (The explanation post.)

2009-07-09T16:16:15Z

I was halfway through chapter seven, and had taken a little break at an old image board I used to frequent. Little did I know, that as I peacefully clicked around indulging in eye candy, my computer was being accosted by malicious viruses unlike any I had met before.

I tend to get viruses, I have had a lot of them, and I've always eventually figured out how to fix it myself, (SuperAntiSpyware=<3). But this time, there was nothing I could do, and Sally, my darling laptop of four years, paid the full price for my recklessness. I took my laptop to the computer doctor as a last result, and was informed that he would save as much as he could from my hard drive. But nothing could be done to return my laptop to functionality.

So, I have yet to see what has been saved, and I'm hoping that my writings were salvaged. I'm still about two months away from having saved up enough for a new laptop. (I'm just drooling over those dual-processor models. itunes, Photoshop, and Microsoft Word all open at the same time, without lag? 8D) Till then, I have started writing new ideas down on paper, and I've had plenty!

There is so much more still to come, yummy, romantic, hurt/comfort love scenes begging to be written, intrigue, drama, and angst pushing to be posted. I just have to get my new laptop first!

Thanks for all the reveiws and love everybody, I couldn't have come this far without you. :)

Chapter six

2009-01-02T20:24:27Z

See chapter one for disclaimers! Thanks goes to TrudiRose as always for her wonderful Beta abilities!

Through ornately embroidered lace curtains, rays of undiluted morning sunlight shot and fell across the room in small pools of heat and clarity. Although it may have seemed to the untrained eye that the patterns that they fell into were random, Beast knew with unquestioning certainty that the shining daggers of malicious light were meant especially for his eyes. That, along with the oppressively stale heat from the fireplace, grated on him. He shifted heavily through an assortment of decreasingly comfortable positions, but there was no respite. The brightness and warmth of the room kept him from drifting back to sleep.

With some effort he lifted his eyelids, weighted with the luxury of long hours of deep, unperturbed sleep. His doctor’s advice to restrict movement completely unheeded, he lifted himself up on the bed to all fours for some rousing stretches. He extended one hind leg back as far as he could, extending even his toes for the satisfying pull of muscles as he unconsciously flicked his tail a bit from side to side. Sunshine washed over his form, highlighting the musculature that was so often hidden by his thick pelt. Beast rolled his massive shoulders as he held position, and then switched legs. Feeling slightly more awake, he shifted to sit on the edge of the bed. As he let his mind drift for a moment, it occurred to him to open a window and let out the heat in the room. He stood up to do just that, locating a pair of glass doors that led out to a small balcony. The view offered a snowy revision of the castle garden, twinkling in the sun.

Upon stepping out onto the balcony, he was met with a very cold breeze over his nether parts, and upon looking down discovered that he was exposed to the pretty winter scene. Immediately shocked and embarrassed, his ears went straight up and he pulled a nearby curtain to cover him whilst he scanned for anyone who could have seen. Relieved to see that there was no one around, Beast realized that he had awoken early, very much earlier than usual. It only took him a moment to remember why he had gone to bed so soon in the evening, and in such an undressed state. Fresh embarrassment flooded him. Belle, whose clever intelligence often trumped his own in a way that he had come to accept, had to have known why he had sent her from the room. Would she avoid him now?

Beast had never troubled himself to think that Belle could accept his furry exterior sexually. Previously, he had known that his form, while acceptable to her now, and perhaps even loved, was far beyond being considered for such activities. But now his mind was muddled. Weddings, for all their pomp and glory in the royal realm, boiled down to a wedding-night. The consummation of marriage. In a dream-like way, he realized what Belle might have been offering with her suggestion of marriage. Even if she hadn’t meant to, she must have known what would be assumed.

His Majesty still stood in the doorway of the balcony, breathing the cold air, and considered that perhaps the curse may have left him some small part of his manhood. That despite everything that had been taken away, he might still be able to lay with a wife. All the more, one that he loved, a beautiful bride, one that loved him back. He mulled over that. Weighed in his mind, he knew many men in his own lineage who had settled for less. He had an uncle who had claimed an entire small kingdom in battle, only to receive a very shrill and horse-looking woman for a wife. But Belle… Beast thought of her and shut his eyes, still clutching the curtain in his intensity. Had anyone who had been walking in the garden looked up to see him, they might have laughed at the image of a horned demi-god who appeared to be dressed in a very frilly toga.

Although Beast was loathe to admit it, marriage would have most likely never come up if Belle had not offered it. His brow furrowed over closed eyes. His devotion and adoration of her, even within himself, was undeniable. Had Beast been in his human form, he would have claimed her long ago, with marriage, among other things. Being the youngest of three sons, he could have easily convinced his parents to allow him to buy Belle into royalty so that they could marry. His other two brothers had married well, to princesses that provided more riches to their parents than love between the couple. But in his cursed form, he had never thought she might look to become joined to him, had thought that the mere suggestion would offend her.

But the events of the previous evening had given him much to consider. ‘--the man I love, the man I’m going to marry…’ She had shed tears for him, tears of joy that he was still alive, even while he mourned it. I love you, Beast. Wasn’t it a bit strange that she was always the first to say it? And then the kiss… It’s all right. Inwardly, Beast cringed, suddenly noticing a pattern. Too often, Belle comforted him when he was too cowardly to move forward. His instincts in such matters pointed out that the opposite should be true. He suspected himself of leaving her to do the hard work of taking risks, while he shirked the duties of any dignified male in the process of wooing his love.

Beast opened his eyes and straightened his posture, looking out onto the landscape with a determined expression. The circumstances that had preceded the transformation would have greatly shamed his family, had they ever known. For nothing was much more incriminating than the punishments of sorcerers. But pursuing Belle’s favor as he would have done had the curse never happened appealed to Beast’s sense of dignity. He took a deep breathe of crisp air, puffing out his chest, and released it. A billowing cloud of breath heavy with resolve dissipated in the brisk morning.

Beast decided that he would leave the work to Belle no longer. If against all odds, she had truly overcome his monstrous appearance, and was willing to accept him as a man, as a husband…then he would hasten to act like a man and lead, as best he could.

With that, the hulking being stepped back into the room to dress himself, leaving the doors open but the drapes closed. Hazy plans formed in his mind of inviting Belle to walk with him in the icy gardens. He wished he could tell her what he’d realized, and apologize for being so weak, but he knew that the words would come out wrong. He would simply show her. Bedecked in his usual garb, plus his favorite cape for the cold, he set out to do so.

Traveling the hallways, he dropped to all fours and ran in his excitement. Arriving at her room, Beast quickly stood up and hesitated, gently touching her door, but not knocking. It was very early after all, would it be rude to knock? It would certainly be ruder to just open the door, he supposed. Finally, he opened the door just a bit, and gently rumbled her name through the space.

“Belle?”

When he heard no response, he tried again a little louder, and with the same results, peeked through the gap. Seeing her empty, disheveled bed, sheets thrown back and a pillow on the floor. Beast felt the most mild prick of irritation build. Why wasn’t she here? Where else would she be? His brows lowered and pushed together as he opened the door, stepping into her room. Her scent flooded his nose and the irritation dropped away like a stone. Blue eyes skittered over the room, absorbing. Belle, it seemed, wasn’t exactly tidy. Beast felt a blushing heat go down his neck when he saw a lone pair of petticoats hanging over a nearby chair. Reminded of his lack of invitation, Beast left her room, closing the doors behind him.

Figuring the library to be the next best place to look, the hirsute prince began to walk towards it. In passing through a hall of arms, he spotted Mrs. Potts at the end of it.

“Mrs. Potts!” he hollered, too impatient to wait till he was close enough to speak.

Mrs. Potts, in her gently refined way, did not respond till she was at a distance that her proper speaking voice could be heard. “Yes, your Majesty?” she chirped. Beast noticed as she grew closer to him, that she seemed…brighter, in some way. Her cheeks were rosier, her smile was wider even her eyes seemed clearer. While he was impressed by the change, the current issue of locating Belle pushed to the forefront.

“Do you know where Belle is?” Beast queried.

“Have you checked the library?” Mrs. Potts responded easily. “Belle went there often when she wasn’t watching over you.” She peered at him under raised eyebrows, accentuating the point.

“I was on my way.” Beast confirmed. He looked to the ground, again confronted with Belle’s show of love and loyalty.

“Well, I’m sure she’d love your company. But perhaps you could tend to your appearance before you do,” Mrs. Potts gestured faintly to her chin, as if stroking a beard, then gave an equally subtle point to a highly reflective suit of armor. A quick inspection revealed a mess of snarls that had developed while he slept.

“Hrrm,” he grunted in agreement.

Smoothing his hands back over the top of his head and gently running his claws through the fur there, Beast quickly combed in hopes of making himself presentable. With a couple of tugs through his beard, he thought he must have gotten at least the visible knots, and felt ready, bounding towards the library. Pulling open the large, arched wooden doors, he entered, and immediately spotted two pale ankles leading to dainty slipper-covered feet, visible from behind a green couch across the room. Absolutely astonished, Beast came closer, looking over the back of the couch to discover his beloved sleeping in the tender embrace of the library sofa. Resting on her chest was the inevitable book.

Beast stood frozen for a number of reasons. First and foremost was her manner of dress. Belle had always dressed very modestly, wearing long sleeves even when the weather permitted sleeveless dresses. Thus the effect of seeing her in a nightgown -- a satin nightgown no less -- had double the influence on him. Long expanses of porcelain skin were exposed to him: her long arms, her elegant neck. The creamy, off-white fabric brought gleaming accents to her womanly curves, and enhanced the pale of her skin. Dainty straps left her collarbones exposed. Beast was reminded strongly of his first tantalizing look at those collarbones, that night in the Ballroom.

Belle’s head was turned just slightly away from him, cheeks pink, lips pinker and slightly parted. She breathed, and Beast struggled to do the same. His eyes slid over her. Many thoughts flew through his head at once: the memory of yellow silk…the first time he had ever felt her body heat… the way she had felt as he held her against him, just last night…Beast yearned to feel those things again. Touch her, his body seemed to scream.

Standing hunched, Beast fought the temptation, worrying his paw-like hands, twisting them together. But still, he looked, his eyes drawn to her sleeping form. Finally, he was helpless to resist. Shaky fingertips tucked a lock of chestnut hair away from Belle’s face, and then gently smoothed over a brow. His other hand joined in mindlessly, mimicking the movements of his first. Reaching easily over the back of the sofa, Beast traced feather-light trails over Belle’s cheeks, her jaw line, her forehead, reveling in the softness of her skin, the sweetness in the structures of her face.

His heart was beating hard, even though his touches were innocent. He knew that were anyone to walk in, it would look badly on him. Even if he had been assured of privacy, Beast still would have questioned his own motives, always afraid that his monstrous appearance would taint his appetites as well. Perhaps if he had known that his behavior almost exactly mirrored Belle’s own explorations of him not so long ago, he would have felt more secure.

While Belle’s skin was soft to his touch, it was also chilled, and Beast looked to see the few smoldering embers that remained in the fireplace. Impulsively, he decided that he would carry Belle to her room, return her to her bed, and start a new fire in the hearth in her room. It warmed his heart to care for her as she had done for him, and he was eager to do it.

But as he went to scoop her into his arms he halted. The book, tattered and surely very old, was probably just as eager to fall to the floor and wake Belle, foiling his efforts. But to remove it seemed implausible, as its placement on her bosom currently retained her modesty. Beast hesitated, and then whipped off his cloak, letting it drape over Belle’s sleeping form. Then, carefully, he began to work his hands beneath her back, effectively tucking the cloak around her while he did so. Once he had his forearms beneath her, he shifted his hand, his thick fingers sliding through the silky hairs at the nape of her neck to support her head, and lifted. She wasn’t feather light, but she wasn’t nearly heavy either; her body was a pleasant weight in his arms as he cradled her against his broad shoulder, the book trapped between their chests. Beast was surprised to discover that he was not nearly as nervous holding her now as he had been the night before. As it was, he was quietly amused to find that if he turned his ear just right, he could hear the sound of Belle snoring, just ever so lightly.

Adjusting his grip to be sure he would not drop her, the prince hoped that the hallways to Belle’s room would be empty. Walking to the door, he balanced on one leg as he used his other foot to open the library door wider. Although his cloak protected her from potential embarrassment, eyebrows would be raised if he was seen escorting her to her room while she wasn’t properly dressed. After scanning the surrounding area, he stepped out of the library, trying to walk quickly without jostling his precious cargo.

Not too far away, two plainly-dressed men navigated a small town’s market. They did not walk too closely to one another. Yet in an understated way, it was clear that they walked together. Reginald kept an eye out for anything he might need, but surprisingly, most of his things had not been much affected by his time away from them. He had always been a firm believer in the use of cedar to ward away moths, and he found he still fit all of his clothing.

Cogsworth studied the distracted doctor’s ever-so-slight jowls in the morning sun. He remembered Reginald’s younger days in the castle. The physician’s face had always seemed too somber and aloof. But now, with the fine lines of time and gray hairs, Reginald seemed dignified, regal. Cogsworth decided that age suited the doctor.

Lumiere would have a field day with this. Like a pig to truffles, the flirtatious maitre’d always seemed to detect romance with ease. Cogsworth was utterly thankful that both Lumiere and Babette had taken to sleeping late.

Beast managed to arrive at Belle’s door without witness. To his utter annoyance, he realized that the doors were shut. With no free hands, he considered the doorknob with a grimace. Beast huffed, shifting Belle so that her legs draped over his forearm, her head resting in the crook of his other arm, as he held her in place with his hand at her waist. Being moved thusly, the book that had been pinned between their chests fell and made acquaintance with Beast’s foot, the sound of its preordained fall muffled.

Stifling a loud growl, the bruised Beast kicked the heavy book a small distance away. Having freed his other hand, he leaned forward and opened the door, careful not to make too much noise.

Thankful to see that the bed’s sheets were turned back, Beast set her down gently on the mattress, bending low, close to her face. He ran claw-tipped fingers through her hair, closed his eyes and breathed in her scent. Soap, tea, and the smallest hint of sweat, her sweat, came to him. He sighed and opened his eyes to gaze at her, supporting his weight with his hands on the mattress. His brunette beloved slept steadily. Beast began to slowly pull away his cape, but then hesitated as he recalled her lack of proper covering beneath it. It would have been a lie to say that he was not tempted. Beast hungered to see Belle, every part of her. But to take the choice away from her seemed to betray all the goodness she had shown to him.

He pulled the sheets to cover Belle, mourning it, but doing so all the same. He stood up straight, looking at her still, watching her face, then turned to start her fire. Halfway to the hearth, he remembered Belle’s book was likely still lying outside the door and went to grab it, placing it on the nightstand near her bed. Grabbing the small shovel in the stand just outside of the fireplace, Beast began to remove the cold ashes that remained of the last fire that had burned there. In his focus, he forgot to heed the noise, and the grating of metal against stone sounded through the room. But Belle seemed set upon sleeping, making a soft noise herself and turning over within the softness of her bed. Beast checked over his shoulder, then continued his work.

The fire blazed, and he could feel the difference in the room because of it. Highly satisfied, Beast felt one more adjustment was needed before he was done. Opening a window on the far side of the room would keep the air fresh and the room from becoming too hot, and seeing as it was something he preferred himself, Beast assumed that Belle would also appreciate the gesture.

But upon trying to open the window, Beast found that it was quite stuck. Confident in his ability to muscle past the problem, he tried harder, digging his claws into the wood, bunching his biceps, and tensing his abdomen as he strained to pull the window upward. For a few moments, the window held; then suddenly it shot open, with a loud, piercing squeal that made Beast’s ears lay back against his head. Beast froze for the second time that day, hoping against hope that the sound hadn’t broken Belle’s slumber.

A faint, groggy voice spoke behind him. “Beast?”

Just moments ago, Beast had felt proud of his thoughtfulness, but now he felt mysteriously embarrassed. His hands still on the window, he turned slightly to look out of the corner of his eye to her.

“Yes?”

The sheets rustled as Belle sat up in her bed, holding his cape over her chest. Seeing him look so miserable and confused made her want to comfort him, despite her own confusion. Without thinking, the words “Would you like to sit down?” tumbled from her lips.

Beast turned fully towards her, looking surprised but quickly regaining his composure. Belle’s face seemed tinged with red, a little embarrassed herself. He walked to her bed, ambling up onto it. He was silent, panicked by how unprepared he was to take the initiative that he had felt so intent on just an hour earlier.

Belle felt the mattress respond to Beast’s weight, and she was reminded of his size. The tilt of the bed encouraged her to lean against him, as did morning laziness. But this state of undress would have made it entirely inappropriate. “Good morning,” she said softly, looking at his face, then down to her lap, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear.

“I found you in the library,” Beast explained, “you fel- uh, looked cold, so I brought you to your room and…” He gestured to the fire.

Belle smiled. “Thank you.” She was flustered. He had seen her in her nightgown? How scandalizing! The brunette beauty remembered in a flash that she had fallen asleep in the library, and wished with all her might that she had not. “Uh, did anyone else-?”

“No,” Beast stated. “Just me.” In the ensuing silence, Belle considered this. Her husband-to-be had protected her honor, built her a fire, and managed to keep the potentially humiliating moment quiet. Her limited romance novel experience told her that a show of affection would be appropriate, but Belle couldn’t find the bravery to initiate it.

All of this thought took the form of an awkward silence, which made Beast uneasy. He thought to change the subject. “You fell asleep with a book, I brought it too.”

Belle felt a charge of anxiety pierce her. She remembered all too well what she had been reading last night. There was no way to soften Manuel on the Reversal of Lingering Curses, was there? “Oh?” she said in a neutral tone, scanning his face for hurt or anger, hoping his illiteracy might have shielded him. She tried not to look around for the book, to show a lack of interest, but to no avail. Beast started to lean across her to fetch it from her nightstand, presumably to hand it to her. But Belle grabbed his reaching arm, stopping him short.

“That was very thoughtful of you,” she said softly, hand still resting lightly on his arm. She looked to the rug near the door, her long eyelashes and elegant neck displayed by her nervous body language. She did hope to distract him from the book, but meant her words. Beast was still, his eyes trained on her face. He breathed slowly. She looked up and their eyes met.

This time there was no hesitation, no offering that was timidly received. Their movement was synced, both wanting, both looking to please. Their lips met at an angle. Their difference in height and positions made it difficult only for a moment though, as Beast wasted no time gathering her into his arms and resting her bottom softly on the thick muscular thigh of his crossed leg. Belle gasped, breaking their kiss. The sensation of being lifted by those big hands, the blatant show of effortless strength, tempered with his gentle movements, brought the heat of her passion to her face. This was utterly different from the shows that Gaston had often put on, she thought. There was no move to dominate or claim, no crowd to entertain. Only her sweet Beast’s earnest attempts for her approval and affection.

Belle decided that she had struggled with her feelings toward Beast long enough. It no longer mattered what others might think. If she were honest with herself, the fear that his appearance had once evoked in her had subtly changed into a thrilling wonder. In ways that were unknown to her, his strange differences drew her like nothing she had known before.

Beast was disoriented by her sharp intake of breath. Thinking that he may have hurt her, he backed away a bit to look at her. Belle seemed fine, but Beast sensed something had changed. His heightened senses detected the sudden presence of a strangely sweet musk in the room, which confused him as well. Despite his arousal and feverish wish to continue kissing Belle, he found the smell called attention to itself, pulling in his focus. He breathed in deeply through his nose for more of the exotic scent, puzzled until he looked back to Belle, took note of her rosy cheeks and heightened breathing. They held each others eyes, Beast’s arms crossed behind her back. One of Belle’s hands clutched the front of his linen shirt, the other still held his thick purple cape to cover her chest. Still looking deeply into Beast’s eyes, Belle felt the spirits of wild daring pass through her, and her hand opened to let the cape fall away.

Now it was Beast’s turn to gasp. It was all too apparent that Belle was wearing no chemise beneath her nightgown. The neckline was not very deep, but revealed the very top of her cleavage, stopping just before the swell of her womanly flesh. He throbbed at the sight of Belle’s protruding nipples beneath the satin, her visible arousal bolstering him to action. He leaned forward, careful of his horns, and lay one tender kiss over her uncovered sternum. He could feel the shape and warmth of her breasts through the fabric of her gown, pressing into the ruff of fur surrounding his head. He turned his head, kissing the exposed parts of her breasts, encouraged when Belle let her head fall back, giving him her neck to explore.

He was dying to feel her breasts in his hands, but knew that simply allowing himself this impulse could bring the moment to an abrupt stop. Her scent filled his mind, making it hard for him to think, and it seemed to be gathering strength. Had any human male taken in the air, the fragrance would have been too subtle to notice. But to Beast’s keen nose, the aroma of Belle’s arousal was distinct and addictive, driving him to find more, opening doors to instinctive reactions that Beast had tried so hard not to act on.

Beast’s tongue sent goose bumps crawling over Belle’s flesh as it laid a hot, wet trail up her neck. Her breath caught at the feel of his tongue, rough like a cat’s, and she reached up with her free hand for something to hold onto as she arched toward him. Her hand slid over fur as silken as the gown she wore, she stroked his velvety ear and then grabbed his twisted horn, pulling him closer as she tried to pull herself up. A soft growl of pleasure escaped from Beast’s chest, and he moved to lay her back on the bed. Her legs went to either side of Beast’s thigh as he leaned forward on his knees, supporting his weight on one arm as he lowered her beneath him with his other. Belle could almost feel the power and focus emanating from Beast as he hovered over her, keeping his weight off of her as he continued to lick and kiss his way over her shoulders, throat and back over her chest. Their breathing was loud in the quiet room. Tingling sensations distributed themselves in waves throughout Belle’s body. Warmth and pressure gathered deliciously between her legs.

“Beast,” she said huskily, writhing for relief she wasn’t sure she wanted. Broad arms wrapped around her upper torso as Beast tried to get his legs under him again, wanting to pull Belle closer for another proper kiss. It was in this movement that the apex of Belle’s thighs straddled Beast’s leg. As Belle’s weight settled against him, she began to subtly undulate, soaking up the pleasure that resulted from it.

Beast had no frame of reference for the activities he and his beloved were participating in; the curse had been cast too early in his years for much different to be expected. The drive of a man too long repressed and the unconscious directives of his monstrous form led him like a blinded horse. But even he was not so blind and naïve to overlook the heat of Belle’s sex soaking through the fabric of his pants. He held her close, their lips meeting again, hearts pounding together, equally inflamed by love and lust. Belle’s hands began to search for buttons of his shirt, opening it so she could run her palms over more of his broad chest and that luxurious fur. His panting breaths became more ragged. Big, claw-tipped hands closed over hers, leading them to his furred shoulders and tightening, signaling that she hold on. Belle hesitated in fear of hurting him, but soon wound her fingers through his thick coat and held.

Straightening, Beast rose a bit from his kneeling position, and lifted Belle slightly. She brought her knees under her, and felt Beast move his own hips upwards, leading her to realize what he had done. With her weight resting on her knees, Belle had more freedom to move her hips and pleasure herself.

Belle was experiencing something beyond what she had ever thought she would achieve. Even the most heated of her reading selections had still been frustratingly vague in their descriptions of sensual encounters. Nagging guilt and a proper upbringing gnawed at her from a distant place in the back of her mind, but tides of pleasure coursing through her kept her going. The warmth of Beast’s large powerful hands on her, squeezing gently on her hips radiated a feeling of blissful satisfaction into her stomach, stirring butterflies. She pulled herself closer to the solid build of his body, earning a breathy groan from her partner. Her long fingers slid away from their hold, and she lovingly stroked the fur surrounding his face. Her touches opened his eyes to see her face, and Belle was shocked once again by the way his pupils had dilated. Not wanting to seem put off, she stretched upward for a kiss, unintentionally sliding her body against his.

As Belle moved, Beast moved with her, grunting softly, eyebrows knitted together as he struggled to coordinate his movements with his love’s. His erection was aching. While Belle’s leg, caught between his thighs, brushed against him through his pants, the stimulation was too indirect to satisfy, yet just enough to keep him actively aroused. Beast was determined to follow through, to give his lady pleasure. However, he doubted he could last much longer in this position.

Beast shut his eyes tightly, his painful arousal becoming too much to bear. Not at all helped by Belle’s breasts as they pressed into his chest, or the feeling of her lips as they kissed. His hands clenched, pulling the satin of Belle’s nightgown taught between them, helpless to the pained growl that escaped him. Belle leaned back, studying his face.

“Are you alright?” she said softly, nervousness creeping into her voice “What’s wrong?”

Beast shook his head, gesturing that nothing was wrong. Although he tried to hide it, his panting breath made speech difficult for him. His strong arms laid Belle back onto the mattress, although she gave a disappointed sound at the move. Then he lay down beside her, pulling her close again, but leaving a small space between their lower halves. They lay on their sides, facing each other. Belle was quick to press her face into Beast’s ruff, running her hands over his chest. Beast felt unsure of his next move. Even with his own needs begging to be sated, Beast wanted to bring Belle to completion more than anything… although he was not at all versed on how to go about it.

His thick fingers wandered down her side, then slid gradually to her belly. The knuckles of his hand slowly came to a stop just below her navel, asking permission to go further silently. Belle’s hand covered his, holding it there unnecessarily, her stomach twisting with indecision.

“Don’t you think we should wait?” she whispered, then added “For the wedding?”

Beast was immensely relieved that he would not have to stimulate her that way, when he was unsure of what to do, but also disappointed that he hadn’t brought her to a climax. But he knew that it was ultimately the lady’s decision how far they should go.

Even with a deep breath, his voice was thick and deep with lust, but he spoke as clearly as he could. “We can wait as long as you want.” He took the hand that held his, giving it a timid squeeze of affection. Then, in an inspired moment, he turned his head to whisper into her ear. “I love you, Belle.”

The sweet words, combined with the warmth of his breath and the brush of his lips against her ear, made Belle flush again. She moved to lean on her elbow, looking into his face and bringing his hand to her chest, holding it close to her heart. “Oh Beast, I love you too.” She leant forward to kiss him again, and with her change of position, Beast felt her breast rest against his hand. With that, the throbbing in his groin flared, and he had to set his jaw to stifle his reaction, resulting in a somewhat strangled noise.

This time Belle moved away to inspect him more thoroughly, her face showing concern. “What’s going on?” she said softly, running her hand tenderly over his cheek. “You can tell me.”

Beast hesitated, wondering if he really could just tell her what was ailing him. Her eyes seemed to show sincere worry, but he couldn’t bring himself to say the words aloud. In a sudden impulse, he pulled her flush against him, letting her feel the stark erection pressing into her thigh through her gown. Beast heard her breath hitch, but didn’t sense her trying to pull away.

“It hurts,” he rumbled, his cheek pressed lightly to her shoulder, not wanting to make eye contact.

“Oh” Belle responded, blushing furiously and a little intimidated by the length and girth of the hot thing that seemed to throb against her. She recalled words like ‘aching’ in the description of longing between lovers, but hadn’t ever imagined it might be literal.

“Do you…” Belle paused and started again, voice timid and a little unsure. “Is there something I can do?”

Beast was silent for a beat, then “I don’t want you to see it.” he admitted finally, shame forming a heavy stone in his stomach.

The bookworm was no fool, and hadn’t expected for the sorceress that had transformed him to spare any specific part of him, not when everything else had been so utterly changed. In the back of her mind, she had expected that he would be at least somewhat different from the common man even in the most intimate of places.

“Alright,” she said with a gentle smile. “I don’t have to see it.”

She petted the line of dark fur that bisected his chest, giving him a light kiss. “But maybe I can help make it stop hurting?”

Astonished at her offer, Beast looked at Belle with wide eyes, momentarily forgetting to breathe. “Really?”

Belle looked away, embarrassed, “Well, I’ve never- I mean, I’m not sure what to do, but,” she looked back to him, “I want to you feel what I felt.”

His mind racing, Beast considered his options, either Belle hadn’t completely understood, or she had, and was willing to continue anyway. Although he was desperate for her touch, wanted to be relieved, he couldn’t ignore the risk of her repulsion.

“No” he whispered in his deep voice, “not now, but…thank you.”

They continued to lay together, as the sun rose higher in the sky, feeling both exhausted and exhilarated by what had happened. Their hearts and minds were open for what lay ahead for them, and each hoping the other would be brave enough to move forward.

A Moment Echoes~Chapter 5

2008-10-19T08:13:24Z

Thanks goes to my Beta Trudi Rose! You're the best!

For disclaimers, see chapter 1.

The last rays of a blood red sun spilled out over a breathtaking crystalline landscape. The castle’s usually perfectly maintained courtyard had been claimed by a thick layer of winter snow. The familiar shapes of plant life had been rendered strange and new under the icy coating and gleamed with the radiant hues of a setting sun.

If anyone within the castle had cared to step into Reginald’s room, they might have mistakenly thought that he was staring out onto the glorious sunset. But as the good doctor reached up with a wash rag and began to scrub the pane, perhaps they would have understood that he was not a man to appreciate such things.

Doctor Reginald had not been denied his mother’s love. His life before the curse had been an average one. Comfortably growing up in the cozy home of his parents, he had never suffered abuse, nor had his life encountered any great tragedy. The younger Reginald had not been one to play the common games of boyhood or show any great interest in the females of his town. Reclusive and antisocial, Reginald studied and read, excelled in his classes and eventually chose to become a physician.

His parents, upper class citizens, were glad to have raised a son without any of the trouble that their acquaintances had had doing the same. They were proud of their mutual achievement and very much loved their son. Even so, they never did speak of the dark fist of bitterness that seemed clenched over their son’s heart. There were no musings between the couple of what its origin might be.

As Reginald grew, it became increasingly apparent that he would never marry. As he continued his education, he became more and more renowned for both his medical genius and his foul, stony disposition.

One day, nearing the end of his youthful years, he heard his colleagues discussing the royal family and chose to stay and listen as he ate his lunch.

“I hear he’s the worst we’ve had in a long while.”

“Oh yes, he’s completely unworkable. Every doctor they’ve sent has come back swearing never to return.”

“I’d bet all he needs is a good beating.”

“Pah! Try to get that one past the Queen. God bless her soul, she’s coddling that boy into a monster!”

Reginald wiped his mouth and asked, ”Is the position of Royal Physician open to all who would try?”

“Yes,” one man answered. “With the proper training and experience, of course.”

Reginald stood up to collect his foodstuffs, already considering whether he could carry his things to the castle himself, or whether he would need help.

“Of course,” he echoed.

Once Reginald had made his way to the castle and made himself known to the housemaid who answered the door, he was quickly escorted upstairs and down a hallway. As they reached a large, beautifully carved door, the angry hollering of a young boy could be heard within.

The simpering housemaid who had shown Reginald to the door looked up at him with big apologetic eyes.

“From what I hear, he has a rather painful earache. But he won’t take any of the medicine offered to him; says it tastes bad.”

“Has anyone tried mixing the tinctures with honey?”

The maid gave him a pitying smile. “Every single one. We even gave it to him plain. He still says he can taste the bitterness of medicine.”

The doctor paused for a moment, then braced himself, straightening his back. “I am prepared to enter.”

The maid obliged, stepping to the side as the decibel of the hollering doubled. She winced. “Best of luck to you.”

Reginald gave her a stiff nod and walked into the room.

He very nearly recoiled at the sight of the child’s face. Puffy, red eyes, swollen from tears, glared up at him accusingly as the boy sat on the floor. Surrounded by the fluffy innards of pillows and stuffed toys. The young prince’s nose ran unchecked, and with his tawny locks tousled, he looked more like a savage than royalty.

There was a moment of silence between the two of them. Stubborn wills met in each other’s gaze.

The doctor cleared his throat. “I have been informed that Your Majesty has an earache. Perhaps I could be of assistance?”

“No,” answered the child prince sullenly, crossing his arms over his small chest. Despite his posturing, it was easy to tell that the little prince was exhausted, wearied from the pain of his earache and his crazed refusal for help.

“Well,” answered Reginald, unfazed, “If I am so unsuitable, is there someone else that you would prefer to administer your medicines?”

The prince narrowed his eyes at the doctor, suspicious and a bit surprised. No one had thought to offer him this before. His mind flitted to his mother’s sweet-smelling hands and her gently aging face, her soothing presence that had been so absent of late. For a moment the stabbing pain eased ever so slightly. But then he remembered that she was far away in some other country, arranging details for his elder brother’s marriage.

“No,” the boy said with a scowl, grabbing a handful of fluff and tearing it further apart.

“Is Your Majesty very sure?” Reginald said softly. “Surely, as ill as Your Majesty has become, I could contact whomever you would wish with an urgent letter explaining how terribly they are needed.”

The prince looked up, becoming intrigued. “Really?”

Reginald gave the lonely child a rare smile. “I would very much doubt that anyone could ignore a doctor’s opinion on such matters, and I am very persuasive in my letters. If only I could examine Your Majesty’s ear to be sure of your illness…”

Jumping quickly up, the prince sat firmly in the chair nearest to the doctor. “If you’re lying I’ll have you put in the dungeon,” he threatened while the doctor gathered his things from his bag.

“I’ll be sure not to disappoint Your Majesty,” Reginald replied coolly.

He gently maneuvered the prince’s head to peer into the boy’s ear. A simple glance was all that was needed to confirm Dr. Reginald’s suspicions. “Your inner ear is very inflamed, a rather painful ailment indeed. Your Majesty must have been very brave to suffer through this far.”

The prince felt a bit proud, for it had been very painful, and he had been tempted to take the medicines offered to him, but he had prevailed.

“The letter will take a few days to deliver, as you know, the post is rather slow. Perhaps I could give you something to lessen your suffering while we wait for it to go through?”

The prince thought for a moment. It had been so long since he had last seen his mother, but the pain was so strong. “If she hears that I took medicine from you, will she still come?” the child asked softly.

“Whom?” Reginald queried, although he mostly knew.

“My mother.”

“She need never know. For all of her knowledge, you will only take medicine from her own hands.”

The prince bit his lower lip.

“All right.”

The doctor followed through on his promise, and a fragile bond was formed between the two of them. While Reginald was aloof and uncompromising, he continued to use the prince’s “inclination towards illness” to shepherd the Queen to her son’s bedside. All through the prince’s childhood he would fake and exaggerate sickness. Reginald would quickly distress the Queen with tales of near-death, unless her Highness would serve her child the medicines he refused from all others. All the while Reginald was revered and respected in a fashion that fulfilled his vast vanity, and he aged with the satisfaction of a job well-secured.

The Queen was unfailingly flattered by her son’s insistence of her presence. Although the prince was quite a horror during his tantrums, he was an unbearably beautiful child. She found great joy in the loyalty of this sullen, clingy creature she had birthed. But the Queen was fickle and easily disinterested. Her nature did not allow her to stay in any one place too long, and as the years passed, her age restricted her to her eldest son’s castle, near the sea. Letters of her younger son’s ailing health could no longer budge her, so she sent great riches in her place to ease her guilt.

The prince slowly became adjusted to her absence, used to the empty splendors of his royalty. As he grew from a lonely child to a bitter adolescent, his heart slowly hardened.

Up a few stairs, and down a few hallways, Belle lay in her bed, looking up at the canopy that hung over her while her mind wandered.

Oh, what would Papa say? I shouldn’t have been the one to suggest marriage. She rolled to her side. I started the kiss as well. She closed her eyes tightly in embarrassment. The kiss…

Belle adjusted her chemise, which had twisted uncomfortably around her from her tossing and turning. Heavy satin slid across her skin, and a warm blush spread over her face and chest.

I’m not going to be able to sleep like this.

Belle sat up, putting her feet over the edge of the mattress. If she pointed her toes she could just touch the plush, cream-colored carpet. In a flash she imagined cool, silken fur rubbing against her skin, a warm breath running down her neck, and a rumbling voice as deep as thunder…

But just as soon the thought hit, she pushed it away. Too appalled with herself to even reason with the warmth that spread and lingered inside of her, she pushed herself to a stand. With her robe donned and slippers covering her feet, she braved the barren cold of the hallway in search of a book to preoccupy her. As she held her candle before her, she wondered if the candelabrums in the library were still there, or if no one had replaced them with objects after the enchanted ones had transformed back into people.

Reginald had cleaned his room -- his entire room. He had cleaned under his bed, wiped his books and organized his clothing. It was not an overly large room, by palace standards, but large enough that in his human days, before the spell, cleaning it had tired him sufficiently so that he could sleep. But this evening, as the sky darkened rapidly, the aging man looked to his empty bed and felt a restlessness he had not felt since his adolescence.

“Perhaps a snack would do me well,” he mused.

Upon arriving in the kitchen, he found a pot of tea warming on the stove. His spirits lifted slightly as he took the pot, and finding biscuits nearby that were to his liking, gathered them up as well.

Making his way towards the banquet table in the dining hall, he was startled to see Cogsworth sitting there, staring out the window.

After many years of knowing Cogsworth, Reginald had come to admire the man for his work ethic and propriety. But on this night, alone beneath the light of innumerable stars, Reginald was struck by Cogsworths’ subtly feminine way of holding himself as the short man gazed wistfully. The doctor paused, suddenly regaled with a thousand moments in his memory that clearly gave the other man away. The girlish enthusiasm, and emotional outbursts, combined with his well-groomed appearance had always charmed the doctor. But it wasn’t until this moment that Reginald had ever dared to hope.

With the teetering uncertainty of a child’s first steps, Reginald made his way to the chair across from Cogsworth. The older man extended the plate of biscuits to Cogsworth as the rotund gentleman turned towards the doctor.

“Should you so happen to desire one, I believe there are more than enough biscuits for us both to enjoy,” said Reginald in an airy tone.

Looking startled, Cogsworth obliged with an small “Thank you,” and took a biscuit. Feeling awkward, both looked towards the table rather than at each other.

“How is the Master?” Cogsworth inquired, attempting to break the silence.

“He is well,” replied Reginald, “But truthfully, he has always been a very robust boy. And he is damn near invulnerable as a Beast.” Reginald took a breath. “Truthfully, he would be just as well if I had never treated his wound at all, and…” Reginald looked to his hands, gathering the words. “I fear I may have outlived my usefulness.”

A silence followed. Then a pudgy hand rested on his on the table.

“Well, I’m not so sure about that. I believe that a trip to the market is on my list of things to do, and I would be thrilled for you to join me,” Cogsworth offered gently.

The two men smiled at one another against a backdrop of stars in the grand windows. Then Cogsworth excused himself, leaving Reginald to ponder a sky that seemed strangely new and fascinating.

Belle settled into a sofa near a fireplace. It had taken some work, but she had managed to get a flame going. There had been just enough wood. Proud of her accomplishment, Belle chose a book from her selections and began to read, enjoying the effects that the flickering light made on the page. But soon her eyes were heavy, and she felt herself giving way to sleep. Resolving to wake up early and go back to her room, she stretched herself along the length of the sofa. The book rested on her chest, rising and falling smoothly with her breathing.

Don't forget to reveiw!

Chapter four: A Moment Echoes

2008-04-01T00:32:52Z

See Chapter One for disclaimers. :D

A Moment Echoes. Ch4

Many thanks to my Beta TrudiRose!

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Beast was awakened by the sudden movement of his sheets being flung from him. He grunted and looked groggily about, trying to find where they had landed.

A haughty voice began to speak. “Oh good,” it said. “Perhaps now that you are able to move about so freely, despite my strict orders not to do so, I will not have to bear the complete burden of your weight as I bathe you.”

These words confused Beast, as the tone reminded him of his childhood doctor’s. But he clearly remembered that the doctor had been turned into a thermometer. This voice was coming from too far up to possibly be a thermometer; it was at least the height of a man.

Beast paused for a moment as he thought this through, his ear twitching forward and then back, and he finally turned his head to solve this mystery. His eyes rested on Dr. Reginald’s back as the man, turned away from Beast, wet a rag in a bowl of steaming water. Beast blinked and looked to his own hands, observing the powerfully angular shape of his knuckles as he flexed them, the abnormal length of his padded fingers, the tips of his claws. The fog in Beast’s mind vanished completely, and the glaring light of the truth seared him.

When the doctor turned back towards Beast he was startled to see the monstrous form towering over him.

“WHAT HAS HAPPENED?” Beast bellowed. The doctor clutched at his chest and seemed to faint, falling to the floor heavily. The panic and crushing clarity in Beasts’ mind made the colors in the room around him sharp and unbearable; he barreled to the door on all fours, crashing through them. Lumiere and Babette jumped away from the doors just as they burst open.

“Sacre Bleu!” Lumiere whispered in horror as Beast turned to look at them. The expression on his furred face was one of crazed despair. His wide blue eyes traveled over them as they clutched each other: fully limbed, man and woman, pink fleshed.

“No!” Beast cried. “No, no, NO!” His last syllable came out in a mighty roar as he struck the floor with his fists. He felt as though the air was hot and heavy all around him. He was unable to breathe it. His chest heaved to compensate. Pressure…in his mind, there was so much pressure, crushing him, making him dizzy.

Books fell from Belle’s arms and lay abandoned on the floor as she sprinted towards Beast’s voice. Oh no, oh no, oh no. The words repeated in her mind like a mantra as she ran.

He heard her footsteps as she came down the hall. He turned to face her, and her expression of heartbreak broke his anger. The weight of his panic shifted and released him. He sank to the ground in exhaustion and despair. His vision was suddenly impaired by tears that would have otherwise shamed him.

“Why?” he implored in a strained and throaty voice. “If it was going to be like this, why did you let me live?”

Belle kneeled before him, placing her hands on either side of his face, her fingers gently winding into the fur there. She met his eyes. She whispered, “I don’t want to be without you.”

Beast looked away, down to his hands, the leathery black pads of flesh that rested on his palms. He closed his eyes. “You can’t… care about, me, like this. I’m-“

Belle cut him short, finishing his sentence, “--the man I love, the man I’m going to marry.” Her voice was strong and sure, leaving no room for argument. Even while her insides tightened.

Beast’s eyes darted back to her, ears perked. “What?”

Lumiere cut in, “Oh ho! There are to be two weddings then.”

Belle looked at him in confusion. “Two? Who else is getting…?” Belle trailed off as she realized that Lumiere and Babette’s arms were still linked.

Beast suddenly felt dazed. Now that the power of his anger was gone, he felt weak. He wanted to speak to Belle alone, but the words wouldn’t form, and he might pass out before he got the chance. Both Babette and Lumiere had become so used to his emotional outbursts that neither of them seemed to be affected. They chatted amiably about wedding details that needed planning. Beast looked over at Belle, his eyes meeting hers, and saw that she also seemed anxious.

“Uhh…” Beast began.

“Could we have some privacy for a little while?” Belle requested gently to the standing couple. “We need to talk about some things…alone.”

A look of realization came over Lumiere’s face. He put his arm around Babettes’ waist and began to subtly lead her away from the two sitting on the ground. “But of course,” he said in a conversational tone, giving Babette a look when she turned to him with a questioning expression. As they walked away, their footsteps echoed with the silence of withheld whispers.

Once they had gone, Belle looked sheepishly at Beast. “Um, do you want to go back to the room, or…?”

“Yeah,” Beast answered, slowly, as if afraid that too much sound would take back what had just happened. Belle rose up from her kneel and offered a hand to Beast. Beast took it, but stood up on his own, knowing she couldn’t help him up. No one could.

He felt dizzy on his feet, but he would have rather fallen flat on the floor than walk on all fours in front of her. Especially now.

They returned to the room that had been Beast’s sickroom and shut the door behind them. Both were silent, insecurities and questions hanging in the air between them. They glanced at each other as they both wondered what to say. Beast scratched behind a twisted horn, looking at the floor and noticing, for the first time, that Belle was not wearing stockings. He wondered absentmindedly if she the rest of her body was as pale as her ankles.

Belle ventured first, “I didn’t mean to sound pushy. I just sort of assumed that you would want to also. Because that’s what people do when they love—“

She was cut off by a long feeble groan coming from beneath the table. Belle spun around to face the sound and gasped. “Doctor!” She hurried to the table and bent down to look at him, not noticing the look of discomfort on Beast’s face, “Are…you all right?” she asked. “What happened?”

Despite his weakened state, the doctor still managed to summon up his characteristic sarcasm in reply. “I was checking the floor for mites, and decided to take a nap.” He looked at her with disdain. “What does it look like?” He pushed himself shakily up, letting out a low moan as something in his body popped.

Belle spoke softly but intensely. “There’s really no need to be so rude.”

The Doctor turned to Beast, as if Belle had not spoken. “Your Majesty, should you wish to truly recover from your injuries, I suggest that you not welcome any chatty help into these chambers while you are still resting.”

Beast, somewhat miffed, looked over to Belle and saw the scowl on her face. He looked back at the doctor “Who are you talking about?” His voice was stormy, and his shoulders hunched defensively.

The doctor backpedaled, “No one in particular, Your Highness. Perhaps you’d like to lie down now? I’m sure all of this… activity has left you tired.” The old man’s voice seemed to hover between neutrality and patronization, not quite giving himself over to a tone that might provoke anger from the prince.

Very tired, but not wanting to follow the suggestions of a man that Belle obviously didn’t like, Beast huffed and stood straight. “No” he said, “but I want you to leave now.” He paused, wanting to say something clever or witty, but words fell away from him.

The doctor blinked. Sounding astonished, he said, “I’ve yet to bathe you, Sire, and there are still medicines that need to be administered…”

Beast’s ears flipped back, and heat climbed up his neck and into his cheeks. His eyes flicked to Belle, and his stomach dropped in humiliation as he saw her attempting to look distracted by the ceiling. His hands reached for his cloak, wanting to disappear in the wave of purple, but he only found empty air and clenched his fists instead. “Leave. Now,” Beast growled. And Dr. Reginald hurried out, forgetting his black bag on the table.

Once the man had shut the door behind him, Belle walked to the bed and sat with a heavy sigh. Beast followed, glad to be able to sit without looking weak.

“I don’t understand why he hates me so much,” Belle said.

Beast gently pressed the side of his hand to hers on the bed. “He’s just that way,” he reassured her, “He’s been the castle’s doctor for a long time. He doesn’t like anybody.” Beast wrinkled his nose. “No one likes him either.”

Belle laughed. “Where has he been all this time?”

Beast looked at the floor, taking a moment to respond. “Well, he was in a box.”

“A box?”

“Mm-hm.”

“What kind of box?”

“A small, musical one.”

Belle looked horrified, “You put him in a music box?”

Beast put his hands in front of him, as if deflecting her accusation. “I didn’t do it!”

“Who did?”

“A few of the servants. Everyone was so fed up with his complaining that they locked him in a music box.”

“For all those years?”

“They let him out occasionally, but he made everyone so miserable…”

“That he was never out for long?”

Beast nodded, “Yes.”

Belle thought this over, and finally asked, “What was he?”

“A thermometer.”

Belle snorted at this, and looked over to see if Beast was smiling. Her mirth died when she saw his face.

“But now…” he continued, looking away. “Now he’s human again.” His hands drew together to rest between his knees, and his shoulders slumped with fatigue. Belle bit her lip and placed her hand lightly on his forearm, silently trying to comfort him, unable to think of a reply. He needs something, she thought, he needs me to DO something. His face was turned away, his lips inaccessible. She got up on her knees on the bed, and when he looked up to see what she was doing she leaned forward and held him tightly across his chest, reaching as far around him as her arms could go, head tucked beneath his chin. Beast seemed shocked, frozen in disbelief.

“The last time I really held you,” she started, her voice sounding shaky, “I thought you were going to die. I thought you were dead, I just…” She took a breath. “I’m just so happy you’re alive, nothing else matters, nothing else…”

She was crying, Beast knew. He could smell the salt that he had only ever smelled in tears. He could feel her breath rustling the fur on his neck and the warmth of her cheek just above his heart. Surely, it would be alright if he put his arms around her now, gently, to let her know he knew she was upset. But she was already only just balancing on her knees to hold him, and if he wanted her any closer, she’d have to be moved. It was almost natural to put his arm just above her knees, to wrap his other arm around her slender waist. How easily his great muscles lifted her and brought her closer to him. How smooth his movements were…even while his heart trembled with the fear that the slightest wrong could revoke this entire miracle. That this blessing was as fragile as the rose that had ruled his life for so long.

He held her stiffly to him while she sniffled herself into composure. His back was aching from his straight posture, and his hands felt perilous. Any movement was risky.

Belle wiped her eyes and looked up to his face. Light was fading in the room, and the last rays of the sun made the loose hairs around her head glow as if she bore a halo. Beast was reminded strongly of the angels that graced the stained glass windows of churches: full of both fury and mercy, innocence and wisdom, all at once, housed in the bodies of women. There was a moment of silence when their eyes met, and her lips parted.

“I love you, Beast,” she whispered.

Beast trembled, but closed his eyes and gathered his courage. His hand gently cupped her face, and he brought his face imperceptibly closer to hers.

“I love you, Belle.”

He ached to kiss her, her lips soft and inviting and pink. He longed to brush his thumb over her full bottom lip, and taste it. But for all of his wanting, he remained still, a stone grotesque that clung to the haunted foundations he had been born into. His eyes darkened, and he looked away.

But soon he felt the light touch of her hand on his, and looked to see her eyes encouraging him. “It’s all right,” she said softly, then closed her eyes, and tilted her face to him, offering. His heart thundered in his ears, his vision sharp and precise in his nervousness. It took all his will to simply push through his irrational fears.

The moment his lips touched hers he felt a rush of energy surging through him, a feeling of daring that frightened him. She tasted like honey, and tea, and spice. Her lips were like rose petals against his own. When they parted, there was a soft smacking sound that sounded like thunder-clap to him in the quiet room. It had been a simple kiss, almost chaste, and Beast knew that he was breathing much too hard because of it. He felt the pressure building, a small twinge of discomfort. He needed to put her down, now.

When Belle opened her eyes, she was immediately concerned. It seemed that the black of Beast’s pupils had nearly consumed the blue of his eyes, and the fixated look that he gave her was eerie. But he blinked, and all was well when they reopened. He shifted her in his arms and cleared his throat.

“Ah, Belle, I think I’d like to lie down. Uh, excuse me.” He set her down on the floor beside him, and hurriedly lifted the sheets and situated himself beneath them, lying on his side and facing her. He fussed with the folds of the sheets while he spoke, watching his hands all the while. “Thank you, for, uh…” He squeezed his eyes shut and restarted. “It’s been a long day. I need to sleep now.” He turned abruptly over. “Good night.”

Belle blinked. “Well, would you like me to read you something?”

“No, thank you. I’m really…tired, you should go to your room and I’ll, uh, see you in the morning.”

Belle bit her lip. “I’ve been sleeping in here, since you’ve been ill.”

Beast’s ears rose, and he turned just slightly, so that he could see her from the corner of his eye. “Really?”

“Yes, in the chair, just in case something happened. If something went wrong or you woke up.”

Beast was silent, his mind unable to accept the simplicity of what she was saying.

“You don’t have to do that anymore,” he finally replied, his heart heavy as he said it.

“I never had to--” Belle stopped herself. ”Well, good night.”

“Good night.”

When Beast heard the door shut he waited a few minutes, listening to her footsteps fade as she walked down the hall. Once he felt it was safe, he climbed silently from the bed and locked the doors. His tail flicked behind him as he went back to the cool sheets and soft mattress. Before getting in, he removed his pants, sighing deeply as the pressure was relieved somewhat. As he shifted his weight beneath the insulated comforter, he paused and lightly ran his fingertips over his own mouth, wondering what she had felt when he had kissed her. He recalled it, trying to remember if he had touched her with his protruding teeth. But the memory revealed nothing, simply sent another wave of sweetness coursing through him. He grunted quietly into his pillow, his fingers still resting on his closed mouth.

Chapter Three, A Moment Echos

2008-01-15T04:12:11Z

See Chapter one for disclaimers. :D
As always thank you TrudiRose, for being such a wonderful Beta.

Belle stood up from her seat to remove the tray from atop her books, and set it down on the chair Lumiere had left near the table, while her inner thoughts whirled.

It all makes sense now, no reason to worry, no one is hiding anything, paranoid, nothing’s wrong… of course they don’t want to talk about it, I suppose I wouldn’t want to talk about the night I was turned into a pot, or a candelabra, or…

She peeked up from aged, dusty pages, to look at him again.

Wedding…

Taking in his features, she tried to imagine waking up next to a body that was more animal than human, though it made her blush to think of it. She knew that the townspeople would think the worst—would think he, and their union, were revolting.

They tried to KILL him, she reminded herself. There’s no way that I can be married there anyway. They think he’s a monster.

And he’ll probably feel the same way.

Her stomach twisted in a fashion that was becoming familiar to her. Guilt ate at her.

Surrounded by all these human faces, and him permanently changed, and no one to blame but-

Beast snarled from the bed, loud and terrifying, causing Belle to jump out of her chair in fright. Facing him, she realized that his eyes were still closed.

Oh, he’s having a nightmare.

She relaxed and held the thick old book she’d been reading to her chest as she watched him lash out at his invisible antagonist, claws fully extended and making gouges in the bed clothes. His face shifted quickly from rage to despair, his hand fell to the mattress, causing a few liberated feathers to fall to the floor. Beast mumbled unintelligibly in a keening voice, as if pleading for something.

Feeling that it was safe to approach, and knowing that the doctor would have heard Beast’s sound of distress and would arrive at any time to help her if need be, she gathered a bowl of cool water and a soft rag from a cabinet across the room.

Belle kneeled down at the bedside, allowing the linen to absorb the water. Gently, she rubbed it over his closed eyes, on his protruding lower lip, and behind his velveteen ears. Gently, Beast pressed his face into the soothing touch, and gave a great shuddering sigh. Warm breath ran up the inside of Belle’s long sleeve, caressing her wrist, breathing life into a growing flame within her. A wave of tender feelings swelled in her belly and her chest, and she lowered her face to his, pressing a kiss to the arch of his thick, heavy brow.

Blue eyes were looking wearily up at her when she pulled away.

“Belle…”

Her eyes widened.

“You’re still…” Beast’s deep, powerful voice sounded raspy from lack of use and dry throat. He licked his lips and continued, “You’re here.”

Belle felt the tears come, blurring her vision and narrowing her throat. Just as Mrs. Potts had predicted, all the redemption she could have ever wished for were in those two words.

“Of course,” she replied. “Of course I’m still here.” She wrapped her arms around his cumbersomely thick neck as best she could. And she held him with all her heart. “I’m so sorry,” she muffled into the ruffs of thick fur around his neck “I’m sorry I ever left.”

“No” Beast said quietly, “The thing…that really matters…is that you came…back.” While he spoke he lifted one of his arms to rest his hand gently on her shoulder, as if unsure of what else would be acceptable.

What he truly wished to do was pull her into the bed with him, to wrap his arms around her tightly, to never let her leave again. Had not the smallest movements been so difficult for him, he may have even tried.

In the fever dreams of his three-day sleep, Beast had witnessed many terrible and wonderful things. Time had been fluid and reality blurred. Many times Gaston had won the battle, hurting Belle while Beast was helpless to stop it. Many times Beast had won the battle, been relieved of his curse, happily married and well loved.

He hoped desperately that this moment was real. Her smell was everywhere, all around him and pervading the room, mixed with the smell of…

Beast’s stomach rumbled loudly when he recognized the scent of Mrs. Potts’ deviled ham, embarrassing him greatly. “Sorry,” he said gruffly.

Belle sat up and laughed softly, wiping her eyes. “Would you like something to eat? I have sandwiches; they’re fresh.”

“I know.”

Belle wondered for a moment, and then quickly realized how he must have known and decided not to comment. She got up from the floor and retrieved a sandwich from the tray, almost turning away before putting it back and simply taking the tray with her. When she turned around, Beast was struggling to sit up. Apparently his earlier battle had twisted his sheets around him, and his face showed a lack of tolerance with this difficulty. Belle placed the tray at the foot of his bed and joined him in his efforts.

“What’s wrong… with me?” he said slowly, his voice slurred.

Belle felt her insides freeze.

“Gaston stabbed you, you bled… a lot…” She paused, not quite sure how his illness had affected him or how to explain it. “The doctor doesn’t speak to me very much, but he’ll be here soon to-“

The doors burst open suddenly, and the doctor himself sprinted in, black leather bag clinking lightly beside him. “What are you doing, woman?” he cried. “His Majesty has been ingesting bland fluids for three days and you are going to feed him a tray of sandwiches?”

Beast seemed struck. “Monsieur Reginald?”

The doctor looked towards Beast with eyes of blazing disapproval. “Lie back down, Your Majesty. I will excuse the young woman and then we can conduct our business.”
Beast looked around dazedly, confused on where the ‘young woman’ the doctor had so flippantly referred to might be standing. Of course the doctor could not have spoken about Belle in such a manner?

But Belle was leaving, shepherded by the doctor’s hands.

“I didn’t mean any harm,” she attempted to explain.

“Of course not,” replied Reginald in a sarcastic tone, “You, an uneducated woman, were merely trying to care for grievously injured royalty without any guidance whatsoever.”

“It was just sandwiches!” Belle said indignantly, but the man was already shutting the door behind her.

Belle’s mind raced as she stood fuming in the hallway. “What an awful man!” she said aloud, contempt dripping from her voice. “If Gaston had been a doctor…” she muttered to herself as she went towards the library, not sure what to look for now that Beast was awake.

---

Beast looked towards the door, not quite understanding what had just happened. The foggy feeling that one wakes up with after having overslept was wrapped thickly around him.

“Belle…?” he said, his voice fading, “Where…?”

His eyelids felt heavy, and although his stomach still called for Mrs. Potts’ sandwiches, he felt himself giving in to the warm pull of sleep again. It had not yet occurred to him that his childhood physician had transformed into a human again and he had not. He drifted into dreams without thinking what that might imply.

“Parfaite!” Lumiere cried.

Babette smiled proudly as she maneuvered her pancake to do yet another flawless flip in the air, landing back into the pan it had originated from neatly.

“I might be able to feed you yet,” she purred, “Although it’s a little late for breakfast…”

Lumiere’s hands were wrapped around her slender waist as he stood behind her. He inhaled deeply through his nose as Babette leaned into him, letting the pan rest on the stove.

“It could not be helped,” he said playfully, “You cannot rush nature.”

“Mmm,” Babette replied, pulling his head gently closer for a kiss. “Who would want to?”

Their faces were just inches apart when Cogsworth rushed through the wooden door that led to the kitchen. “The master!” he hollered, causing the pair to look at him in disdain. Cogsworth realized what he had walked in on and cleared his throat, looking a little bashful. “He’s awake. I, ah, I thought the castle might want to know,” he said to the ceiling. Then he turned and shut the door behind him.

Cogsworth had officially informed the entire castle’s remaining inhabitants of the Prince’s regained consciousness. Now that the task was done however, he floundered at what else there was to do. Before the curse, his job had been to organize the overwhelming swarms of maids, attendants and servants. It had been an exciting, demanding job for an excitable and demanding man. The number of them that had gone on to different lives after the curse was lifted had left him with very little to manage. He was surprised to find himself empty without the chaos, a nagging loneliness that was now more acute than it ever had been.

Perhaps Mrs. Potts is about; we’ll have some tea and be lonely together.

He walked into the dining room. The grand windows filled the room with striking afternoon sunshine. The long polished table gleamed, and he was surprised to find Mrs. Potts sitting at the end of it, patting her styled hair.

“Mrs. Potts! You look lovely,” he said as he walked to where she was sitting. “Planning to take a day off with a handsome fellow?” he said jokingly, sitting down at the table next to her.

Mrs. Potts seemed bashful. “Well, actually…”

There was a faint voice at the end of the hall that led to the front door. “Mrs. Potts?”
Mrs. Potts stood up quickly; her face was full of excitement. “Maurice! I’m in the dining room!” she called.

“Where’s the dining room?”

“I’ll be right there!” she replied, laughter in her voice.

When Mrs. Potts turned back to Cogsworth, he was looking at her aghast. “When did this come about?”

Mrs. Potts touched her cheek softly, “It was rather sudden, but…” She looked wistfully back towards Maurice’s direction. “Well, I’d better be going, before he gets lost looking for me.”

“But…” Cogsworth sputtered, but Mrs. Potts was already making her way towards the hall.

“If you want any tea, there’s some on the stove,” she said over her shoulder. “I’ll be back soon.”

“I’m certainly not very likely to go back to the kitchen,” Cogsworth muttered, unheard. He rested his elbow on the table and perched his chin atop his hand, looking down at his reflection in the polished surface. “I suppose everyone’s paired off then.” He glared down at himself. “I was better off as a blasted clock.”

Zero Tolerance

2007-10-17T03:31:20Z

I'm being punished for the distribution of drugs.
Ibprophen, to be specific, and in consequence I have been sent to ACL (alternative education for students who do hazardous things at school.) For giving a fellow classmate , whom was having dibilitating cramps during her menestration, the equivalent of Tylenol.
Because of this horrendous infringement of my schools zero tolerance policy, I'm being sent to a school for ruffians and drug peddlers.
I may or may not be able to continue to write my fanfiction, or access the internet, depending on what my father decides to take away from me as punishment. I hope that he overlooks this privilege and allows me to continue to use my computer.

Cross your fingers for me.

Public Service Announcement

2007-10-15T04:52:01Z

'Ello Poppetts!
I'm going to be cutting back on the extra-advanced classes I've been taking lately, they're rough and pointless now that I'm set on doing community college for two years. I liked the challenge, and I'm keeping Dual Credit Writing, but everything else is either being dropped or taken down a notch.
This means my free-time (and stress level) will both be improving soon. Yay! I'll be writing more often.

(I think I butchered Announcement. Is that even close to how it is spelled?)

Chapter 2

2007-10-12T06:00:07Z

Sorry I've made you all wait so long. So here's the second chapter, for better or worse.
For legal disclaimers and rating, please look at chapter one.
*EDIT* This chapter is dedicated to my awesome Beta TrudiRose! Who spotted my mistakes and revised with me, thanks for helping me polish Trudi!

A Moment Echoes ~Chapter 2

Belle peeked over her book again to look at his face. When she had first arrived at the castle, had first realized the…unique form of her father’s captive, she’d made sure to keep her face clear of scrutiny, her looks at Beast subtle, never truly satisfying to her intense curiosity and wonder.

Now she was free to look, as often and long, as deeply as she wished, to awe over the marvelous being who had somehow managed to sneak her heart away.

All the same she felt guilty. Every murmur and facial change from his sleeping form sent two separate sparks through her: the rekindling of hope that he might wake and forgive her for her late arrival, her stupidity that had led Gaston and his men right to him, and the impulse to hide her staring behind her book.

Book after book was piled around her, adorned with bright pieces of paper fit between their pages, signifying paragraphs, illustrations, pages of information that she used to puzzle together how Beast’s health was doing. None of her searches gave her any conclusive answer; so singular was he that not one creature held more than two of his traits, and therefore he was undefined medically. It seemed to her that the maleficent warlock who had cast this curse wasn’t even able to make a firm decision on what the prince’s new body would be sculpted towards.

Belle had managed to identify certain things from an “Encyclopedia Of Land Oriented Mammals” As it were, he seemed to be a mix of Lion, Buffalo, and of course Homo Sapien.

There was extensively more information on the care and sicknesses of lions than buffalo, and the book informed her that the temperature of the pads located on the paw, the sound of breathing, and heart rate were the best indicators of health. Belle religiously kept a notebook on changes in each of these, and informed the castle’s physician of them every day the man came in.

The physician would listen to her politely, and would then re-check all these things for himself, using tools that Belle was not familiar with, and obviously gave more accurate results. Afterwards he excused her from the room, in order to clean and care for the prince, inspect and re-dress the accumulatively less infected stab wound., and slowly spoon the proper foods to the unconscious body as it did its work to heal. Belle took the time she had away from the prince to go to the library, wondering as she looked through the shelves, “Why do I keep trying to do the doctor’s job? I’m not really helping.” But then her mind would replay the blooming sensation that had happened in her stomach when she pressed her head lightly against his broad chest and listened to the steady thunder of his heart. The way her heart had fluttered when she lay her hand in his palm, feeling the downy fur between the black swells of flesh, slightly rough from supporting his weight during the angry paces he made on all fours on stone floors, she supposed. Goodness, his hands were big; her hand seemed tiny in comparison, pale and feminine.

She’d trace her way to the ends of his fingers and gently hook her finger nail onto the very tip of a mostly hidden claw; if she tugged just lightly it would extend to a shocking two inches, sharp and black.

No, maybe her minor explorations of Beast were not very effective, medically, but her daily touches woke something in her that was new, previously unfelt. It was as if by allowing herself to study him, she could also study these new feelings.

She’d add another book or two to her arms, and return down the hallways she had come, armed with knowledge, and renewed in her wish to solve the mysteries that stuck in her mind.

She had been born curious, and to leave these things unknown was unacceptable.

As Belle came to the last turn preceding the stretch of wall that led to the prince’s healing room, she heard soft voices speaking: Cogsworth’s slightly affected lilt mingling with the doctor’s professional tone. The marble hallway carried their conversation to her, and what it held surprised her enough to stop and listen.

The doctor’s voice was disbelieving. “He’s healing faster than he should, faster than it’s possible to heal; the knife was completely embedded in his mid-back, twisted, and now it’s almost completely closed, the infection disappeared overnight—“

Cogsworth cut in, “But that doesn’t have to mean there’s magic involved, does it?”

“I don’t think there’s any other explanation for it!”

“Perhaps he just heals faster than most?”

The doctor spoke slowly now. “Mr. Cogsworth, perhaps you do not understand. Where there was once a gaping and fatal wound there is now not even a scar. No mere body can do this. Which leads to the inevitable conclusion that—“

“She is still involved,” Cogsworth finished, horror in his voice. “That this curse isn’t over yet. Oh, no.”

“Now, now, if she is directly involved in His Majesty’s rapid healing, then her presence has been benevolent…”

Belle stepped into view, startling both men. “Benevolent?” she said angrily, “If it weren’t for her he wouldn’t be in this situation!”

Cogsworth looked stunned, while the aged doctor looked at her impassively. “That, young lady, is debatable.” He looked to Cogsworth. “I will return tomorrow to feed him.” He gave Belle a stiff bow and left up the hall, away from them both.

Miffed at the doctors demeanor and the implication of his reply, Belle looked to Cogsworth with questioning eyes, “What is he talking about, Cogsworth? Who else could be responsible for what she did? …He doesn’t blame Beast does he?”

Cogsworth looked slightly panicked. “Ahh, well, mmm,” he stammered. He looked down at his wrists and straightened his cuffs, shifting his weight from foot to foot. “He may think that way, but people are certainly entitled to think many things about many situations, without being correct, which doesn’t necessarily mean that they’re wrong…” Suddenly he seized his pocket watch and flipped it open. “Oh, goodness!” he cried, “Is that the time? I must go! Adieu!” He turned and ran, surprisingly fast for a man his size, down the hall the doctor had gone.

Belle stood, alone and slightly confused. She took the few extra steps needed and opened the door to the room where Beast was sleeping. Sighing softly, she added her new selections to the pile of reading material already stacked on the night table. She tucked the sheets of his bed around his still form, not worried about drafts as much as she was at a loss for what else to do.

Mrs. Potts had thoughtfully had a comfortably overstuffed chair placed in the room, once Belle had made clear that she insisted on staying at Beast’s side. Belle sat down on it now and her eyes traced the intricate designs bordering the ceiling as she pondered the strange behavior of her friends in the castle these days. Mulling over things, she felt slightly uneasy with the thought that something might be amiss, and lay her hand on one of the novels she had borrowed, finding comfort in the subtle texture of the cloth covering the hard sides of the tome.

Sleeping, Beast snorted and rolled over, and the sheets covering him shifted, leaving his back exposed to her. The movement brought Belle’s eyes to him, and something from the conversation she had overheard came back to her.

“…where there was once a gaping and fatal wound there is now not even a scar”

Suddenly, without much thought, Belle got up from her seat, and walked over to inspect for herself, kneeling before the bed. After the slope that seemed to join his head to his back, there was an area in his fur that had been trimmed for the sake of hygiene and ease of cleaning the wound. Looking straight at it now, Belle could see no scar, no discoloration, nothing that would hint to there having ever been any breaking of skin.

Belle had received many minor abrasions as a child, forging through the forests and meadows surrounding her home for the adventure she had always craved had left her small reminders of cuts, and scrapes, on her skin. Even as completely inexperienced as she was in the field of medicine she knew from her own experiences that the doctor was right: no normal body could heal this way.

Her thoughts turned again to the Enchantress. The picture she had held in her mind of a purely evil being, a warlock of infinite malice and a empty black heart, was suddenly called into question. Now Belle considered a witch with at least enough soul in her to make amends for her wickedness, but even this felt inaccurate, or somehow incomplete. Absentmindedly she ran her thumb gently over the somewhat stubbly feeling patch of shortened fur as her mind continued to wander.

Quick footsteps sounded outside the door, jarring her from her thoughts. Panicking without reason, she flung herself towards her chair. Her heart slammed itself into her throat as the chair tipped back onto its hind legs in response.

The door slammed open just as the chair regained its balance. Lumiere stood in the doorway, radiating his individual flare and confidence, holding up a shining silver tray with one arm, and a white cloth dangled over his other.

“Bonjour!” he greeted her heartily, “and how is our favorite lady tod-“ he interrupted himself when he saw Belle’s surprised face, “Pardon moi, Mademoiselle, I did not mean to frighten you.”

Mentally scolding herself, she responded, “Oh, you didn’t, I…I was napping. What do you have there?”

Unbothered by her sudden change in topic, Lumiere smiled warmly and balanced the tray on the questionable support of the books resting atop of the small table, allowing her to see the neat pile of light sandwiches, accompanied by two cups of soup.

Amused, Belle lifted a elegant brow at Lumiere, “I think this is a bit too much for me,”she said with a smile.

Lumiere gave her a friendly wink. “I thought such a lovely lady might like some company with her meal,” he said with affected flirtatiousness. He leaned towards her, then lifted his hand to shelter his mouth and looked behind himself, as if wary that the prince might be listening. He mock-whispered, “Perhaps we can rouse him with jealousy, hmm?”

Belle giggled softly at his display, and played along in whispering back. “It’s certainly worth a shot.”

Smiling in satisfaction, Lumiere lifted a wooden chair at a writing desk and placed it opposite of Belle.

“Ahh,” he said as he sat down, “Not exactly the feast we gave on your first night here, but it will have to do.”

“It’s just fine,” Belle countered happily. “From what I understand, there isn’t enough staff to put on a show like that anymore.”

Lumiere selected a sandwich from the pile and dipped it in his soup. “True.” He took a bite and continued after swallowing. “Many have left, now that the spell is broken. They have legs to carry them and they are free to go.”

“What about you?”

“I am happy to stay. Babette is here, and so are my friends. I have spent too many years here to just leave, non? This is my home.” A smile grew on his face as he looked around the room. “And I doubt I could ever find a home as impressive as this castle, am I right?” Belle finished chewing, and sipped her soup, following his gaze, silently agreeing. “What about you, mon cher?” Lumiere went on, leaning forward slightly and raised his eyebrows. “The entire castle has been wondering if you are staying for good…”

Belle shifted in her seat, looking down at her bowl thoughtfully. She had already made her decision nights ago on the balcony, but it was more difficult to put into words.

“Yes. I am,” she said simply, and took another sip of her soup. Belle hoped that he wouldn’t ask the obvious questions that she had not yet been able to ask herself.

Lumiere looked overjoyed. “Merveilleux! Angelique has been pestering the entire staff with wedd-“

Belle felt her stomach seize. “Lumiere, what happened on the night Beast changed?” she asked quickly, not allowing him to finish his sentence. Lumiere blinked. She continued. “No one has told me, and- and I need to know, I can’t, it makes me nervous, why won’t anyone tell me?”

Lumiere sighed. “It is not a happy story, mademoiselle. It led to many dark years for all of us. Naturally we would wish to put it behind us.”

Belle looked down at her hands resting lightly on the table. “Oh,” she said softly, “I feel silly now, that I was so worried…” She smiled sheepishly and looked up to Lumiere's face, “I guess I’d heard so little about it, I just assumed the worst…”

Lumiere smiled back to her and patted Belle’s hand, “No worries, with the prince in such a state , spending all your time in this room, it would put anyone in a tizzy, no?”

Lumiere stood up. “Well, it is time for me to take my leave.” He bowed deeply to Belle, and she inclined her head in return. He took his bowl, and said “I’ll return later for your dishes, and they had better be empty!” He waggled his finger at her. “The way you nibble at your food, the Prince will not be able to recognize you when he wakes up!” Belle smiled.

Lumiere closed the heavy door behind him and scratched at a spot on the porcelain bowl in his hands as he walked down the hallway, to the kitchen.

‘I must remind the kitchen staff to take more care with their cleaning’ he thought to himself, ‘the Prince will waken soon enough, and the wedding will be shortly after…Angelique will have their heads for such infractions.’ He chuckled and shook his head, making his way to the staircase.

As he took hold of the banister, he glanced at his newly-reborn fingers, long and graceful, hands that he’d missed so greatly as a candelabrum. He and Babette celebrated their reappearance each night, among other key body parts, since the spell had been broken. He stood still for a moment and let recent memory flood his mind with details: sensual lips accompanied by a characteristic mole, hipbones that only barely hinted at their shape beneath warm, lightly scented flesh. His skin erupted into goose bumps. Oh yes, he thought As soon as the Prince awakens, the wedding will take place.

And here's an old drawing from a year back or so :D

I'll finish it up when I've got the time.

Sorry about the delay!

2007-07-21T07:18:22Z

Tied up IRL.
I feel terrible about being so spotty, but not to worry. I'll be back with a

vengeance!

lamenthatic @ 2007-06-26T02:42:00

2007-06-27T08:05:03Z

Well, I finally posted a FanFiction that I've been wanting to publish for quite some time now. I'm sweating it a little, I've never flamed anyone's fiction, so I'm hoping Karma will be good to me...

Beauty and the Beast (D*sney version)
Rated M / Nc-17 / Lemon / R / Adult for later chapters.
Belle/Beast

Summary: Belle comes a moment too late, listen as the moment echoes through a castle, and watch as love deepens throughout the repercussions of a moments hesitation.

In her grief, the thunder and rain pale in comparison to the sharp pain of guilt, of coming too late, realizing too late, the truth.
She opened her mouth to say the words, stopped her self, not knowing if he would hear, not knowing if he would care, and in her hesitation the last petal fell…

“I love you…”

In her moment of pause, a crucial moment passed, and the winds of forgiveness passed warmly by her beloved Beast to shed the servants of the castle of his curse.

---^-@

Belle sits at his bedside, flipping futilely through the pages of one of the novels piled on the night table at her elbow. So preoccupied was she that it took Mrs. Potts’s fleshy hand resting on her shoulder to pull her from her thoughts.

“Huh?”

Mrs. Potts repeated her question gently,

“Would you like another tea dear?”

Looking into Mrs. Potts aged, round face; her human face, Belle felt the same sense of bewilderment as she had the first time, hearing that familiar voice coming from such a different being.

“N-no, thank you…Mrs. Potts,” She paused a moment, and asked the question she’d been asking continuously for three days.

“When do you suppose he’ll be waking up?”

Mrs. Potts sighed softly, and turned to her service trolley to pour the hot liquid and assorted condiments into a cup.
“It could be any time now, Belle; Lumiere and Clocks both said there was a great deal of blood on the balcony, once they managed to get him into the castle…”

Mrs. Potts placed a steaming cup beside Belle, not quite meeting the brunette’s eyes. Belle made no comment, remembering all too well, her hysterical efforts to protect her beloved from the two foreign men who had come running towards him. Screaming and clawing at what she had assumed were stragglers from the angry mob Gaston had raked up.

Mrs. Potts pulled a chair from a near-by writing desk and placed it next to Belle, sitting down on it with a flump.

The older women sucked a few loose grains of sugar from her thumb with a smack,
“They are both healing up well too, incase you were curious,” Mrs. Potts rolled smiling eyes to Belle, just in time to see a smirk light up the younger women’s face, followed quickly by a snort of laughter.

Mrs. Potts gave an inward sigh of relief, Belle had been the picture of grief and remorse since that night, for more than one reason. The older women stole a glance at her master’s sleeping face.

“I think his color’s coming back, look, he’s a deeper shade of golden brown at his temples, don’t you think?

At this both women began to truly laugh, Belle’s high, loud guffaw, and Mrs. Potts softer, deeper chortle, mingling into a heart lifting sound of hope and healing in the quiet room.
Once their laughter had dispersed into soft chuckles, Belle picked up one of the many books she had brought from the library, her face now serious but light, she parted the pages to a marked paragraph.

“I really do think he’s doing better now,” Belle pointed to a loopy scrawl in the margins of the heavy tome. “See, the book says that you can tell the health of the ah-uh…” She faltered at the word the book had used, animal, in description of Beast.

“-Subject?” Mrs. Potts interjected, taking spectacles from her apron pocket, to peer at the tiny print that Belle was referring to.

“Yes, thank you, it says here that the sheen of the ah,”

Mrs. Potts looked over her the top of her glasses and into Belle’s face, and gave the younger women the word she did not want to say, voice neutral, but firm.

“Fur”

Belle winced, and looked away.

“Belle,” Mrs. Potts chided softly, “there’s no harm in the truth of it, and the rose is done, so as far as we know he’ll be a… he’ll be like this forever, but—“

“Wait,” Belle interrupted “The rose?”

Mrs. Potts took a breath, “The terms of the spell were that he learn to love, and be loved in return, before the last petal fell.”

Belle’s eyes widened and she turned to look Mrs. Potts in the face. “But I do love him, I did, I—“

The elder women chortled, leaning forward and taking one of Belle’s hands between each of her own. “Darling, we know, I doubt you’d have been sitting here in this chair if you didn’t.”

“But then why—“

Mrs. Potts stood with a groan, stretching her back with a soft pop.

“Because spells are precarious, moody things; why did I continue to age even as a teapot? That’s what I’d like to know; before the spell I had a few good years left in me, but now… Well.” Mrs. Potts smoothed her dress around her large hips and sighed wistfully. “Chip is the same age he was, at least in body, and I’m thankful for that, can you imagine trying to force an adolescent to bathe? Ugh.”

As the mother turned to her trolley and began to push towards the door, her aged ears managed to hear Belle whisper one more question.

“Do you think he’ll blame me?”

The older women stopped for a moment, and paused to consider,

“I can’t rightly say, poppet, but I do know, that it will mean the world to him that you’re even here.”

With that last bit Mrs. Potts stepped around her cart and opened the door to the hallway for herself, pulling it after her as she left.

“I’ll be back with sandwiches around noon dear.”

“Thank You” Belle murmured as she gazed at Beast, her Beast, lost in thought and suddenly something occurred to her.

“Wait!” She twisted around in her seat and cried at the closed door, she quickly got up to follow Mrs. Potts into the hallway.
Belle caught up with the silver-haired women quickly, and asked “What is his name?”

“What?”

“His name, he was hu- he must have had a true name before he turned into…”

Mrs. Potts froze for a beat, as if recalling something long forgotten, and stored away in the back of her mind.

“Adam”

With one question answered dozens more came rushing into Belle’s mind, she burned to know the full extent of what she had done. But they froze in her throat, stuck, unutterable, her mouth seemed to know better than her mind that the answers would only increase her guilt and suffering.

Belle was still, her mind churning, and Mrs. Potts continued to speak.

“But you’d best not call him that Deary, he asked us all not to refer to him by that name…when he changed, it’s a matter of family honor you understand. He wouldn’t want the shame of a curse on his family’s crown.”

“Shame?” Belle responded in a stunned voice, injustice steadily grew in her tone as she continued to speak. “Why is he shamed for what some wicked creature cast on him?”

Mrs. Potts looked at a loss for what to say, mouth slightly open and eyes averted, she wasn’t quite sure if the story of the prince turning away an old woman into the snow was something Belle was ready to hear.

She opted for a quick exit.

“Let’s not talk about all that now, later if you will. I do have to serve tea to the rest of the castle.” She turned to bustle away a few yards but then turned quickly back to suggest.
“But let’s not mention those questions to him, once he is awake, hm? I believe the trauma of his memories would hinder his recovery…”

Having planted her tiny seed, Mrs. Potts continued down the hall, hoping that Belle would take her warning seriously, and give her time to discuss with Lumiere and Clocks what Belle should know, and what could be glossed over.

After all, they did not know what would happen, if Belle stopped loving their Beast.

lamenthatic @ 2007-05-12T15:35:00

2007-05-12T20:59:12Z

Another threat to my bus stop yesterday, some Hispanic dude drove by in a little white Toyota started yelling and cursing at one of the kids at my stop, who happened to be wearing red that day.
We didn't hesitate that time, all of us teens scattered the moment he drove away, didn't wait around for him to come back with something else planned.
I had taken note of his license plate while he drove away, and wrote it down on my backpack.
My friend and I went across the street and hid behind an old crippled dude's big black SUV, while I called my dad on my cell phone.
Two weeks till school's over and these stupid gangsters just LOVE messing with us, dad says not to report anything, seeing as this time he didn't actually HURT us...
I still want to though, I think it's bullshit that people who never get involved with gangs, gangsters, or drugs still get dragged into this egotistical testosterone fest.
When he drove by again the bus stop was empty, or at least it appeared to be. We stayed hidden till the bus came, then when it arrived we all sprinted for it, extremely relieved.

Yay for Productivity

2007-04-28T02:31:49Z

I've been getting my drawings done with more regularity, paying more attention in my weak classes, and all without my meds! =D
I feel proud of myself for paying more attention, but now I kind of understand why teachers get so pissed at the slightest noise, even really light whispering. When you're already a little attention challenged, and trying hard to listen to just one thing, it's like your brain is doing back flips for any excuse to listen to ANYTHING but the teacher.

So yeah, it's a little difficult, but I'm managing, now when I manage not to loose the paper they give me for homework I can actually do something with it, rather then scramble the next day, to copy some one who knows what the hell they're doing in that class.
I've only been doing it for a week, so it might not last, I hope it does, it's nice to know what's going on in math and chemistry.

And surprisingly, the classes go by faster now.

The Drama's over.

2007-02-27T23:55:53Z

The man (teen)that attacked my bus stop has been arrested, I never had to testify, because he was caught... while doing another crime.

On less dramatic news I failed Chemistry this semester. Poo :P I'll have to do better this semester if I ever want to get into college on a scholarship.

What to do?

2007-02-25T21:08:51Z

Last Friday morning I was waiting at the bus stop with a group of fellow students for our school transportation, it was a comfortably warm morning, quiet. Now this bus stop is placed right next to a main road through our neighborhood, so it's not a rare occurrence when someone zooms by in an effort to get to their job on time.
So when a white SUV pulls up onto our street, screeching loudly as he turns onto the section of road that represents our bus stop. I, nor anyone else, was too impressed or moved to pay attention.
The car slowed in front of a girl that I recognized, but wasn't familiar with, I saw a hand point at the girl but didn't hear if anything was said, I assumed that it might be one of the girls parents, the hand was withdrawn, and the SUV drove forward a bit further.

When the driver suddenly jumped out of the car it was obvious that he couldn't be that girls father, made even more obvious when he began to pummel one of the guys waiting for the bus, that wasn't too impressive either, the punches looked so weak that the possibility that they might just be playing around crossed my mind.
The girl that the SUV owner had pointed at came up to me, suggested that we move up the street, which was out of view from the fight, and began to talk to me about her backpack, the classes she was taking, and offering me lotion; all the while the fight continued.
It occurred to me that the two fighting young men may not simply be roughhousing, and when I asked the girl what she thought, she replied that she 'knows both the guys', that 'they are crazy' and that one of them has just became a dad.
At this point the group of kids had broken up the fight, and the SUV owner hopped back into his car.
As he turned around in the street his two side tires nearly got stuck in the deep ditches on either side of the road.
As soon as he was out of the ditches and slammed the gas and DROVE RIGHT AT THE GROUP OF KIDS, not just the kid he had attacked, but the rest of them as well,I only saw one of them come into contact with the car, and I hauled ass. As I ran to hide behind something solid, I noticed the the other kids seemed frozen where they were, I yelled to them "FUCKING MOVE! YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT THE HELL HE'S ON!" I grabbed my friend by her hoodie and pulled her after me, hopeing to find something solid to hide behind.
The kids scattered, and he backed up, AND TRIED AGAIN, he went so fast that his car flew OVER the ditch and into the bushes on the other side.
This was the last thing I saw, my friend and I squatted behind a large van in one of my neighbors driveways, it seemed only moments later that the bus pulled up, The SUV was no where to be found.
We all ran to the bus, quickly sitting down so the driver could leave, I recounted what had happened to the bus driver, and called my dad with my cellphone to call the police.
Later that day the princible called me in to tell HIM what happened, and I did, he told me that he knew who had done it, but nothing could be done unless someone pressed charges, someone who had been there.
None of the other kids at my bus stop were willing to, not even the kid that I saw get hit.

What a Great Day!

2006-12-23T02:26:31Z

Well, I slept in, tided up my part of the house, DIDN'T take my medication (ahhh, those days always turn out the best.) I feel my creativity coming back in leaps and bounds, and so much to do with it! I am a withered blossom coming back into bloom!
Here's what I plan to do with my excess enthusiasm:
1. Finish the two V fanfiction the have been formulating in my mind, at least a chapter each.
2. Figure out how to make video clips with the DvD that arrived in the mail today, at least the basics.
3. Draw pictures, lots and lots of pictures, V fanart, erotic, and non-erotic. Gargoyles fanart, humor and drama. Beauty and the Beast, romance natrually.
4. POST IT, all in it's respective fandoms. (this is the part I always struggle with, not as fun as the rest)
5. FIX UP THIS PAGE, GACK! This GRAY will be the DEATH of me.

I'm entirely new at this...

2006-12-15T23:56:14Z

I've never really kept a blog before, and think that myspace is entirely over-rated, I'm not sure how to make this page look more appealing, but I'm sure I'll stumble across it. (I've always managed to in the end.)
I found this nifty personality test on http://vveritasv.livejournal.com/. I thought it was a good outcome, and it spurred me to do my first entry. ^_^

You are The Wheel of Fortune

Good fortune and happiness but sometimes a species of
intoxication with success

The Wheel of Fortune is all about big things, luck, change, fortune. Almost always good fortune. You are lucky in all things that you do and happy with the things that come to you. Be careful that success does not go to your head however. Sometimes luck can change.

What Tarot Card are You?
Take the Test to Find Out.