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R White
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Any Other Name - based on the version written by French author Jeanne-Marie Leprince de Beaumont - is a retelling of classic fairy tale Beauty and the Beast. As punishment for attempting to steal one of a hideous Beast’s prized roses, a merchant must send his daughter, Belle, to live in the Beast’s castle. But when Belle arrives at the castle, she discovers that the flower was in fact a human girl named Rose: the Beast’s daughter, and realises that her time in the castle may not be at all what she had expected.
~~~
It is a beautiful day to be kidnapped, but Belle isn’t sure ‘kidnapped’ is quite the right word for it when she’s got to make the walk herself.
Belle’s father walks beside her in silence, staring down at the dry twigs crunching under his boots, and what little daylight can filter through the gaps in the trees illuminates the devastation in his expression. She’s never seen him like this, not even when their family came close to losing everything - he’d always put on a brave face for his favourite daughter, and now his openness only serves to show how much this is destroying him.
Belle looks away before tears can form, trying to find beauty in the cold pines surrounding them as they make their way through the woods, but lingering memories of childhood fears taint every gnarled branch and shadow. When she was a little girl, her older brothers would tell her stories about woods like these, where you could go mad with hunger and fear, or be eaten by hideous creatures of the night. It had terrified her, but her father was always there to reassure her that there were no monsters - not in the dark, not in the woods.
Now, neither Belle nor her father are so sure.
By the time they’ve walked far enough to finally be able to see their destination, Belle feels as though a lifetime has already passed, silent minutes blurring into years, punctuated only by birdsong from somewhere too high up to see. Even then, all they can see of the castle are the tops of turrets, the brick stark against the sky; as they draw closer, the dark trunks thin out, and Belle can finally see the high stone wall separating the castle from the outside world. In the centre of the wall is an ornate iron gate, the only window to what lies behind - through the bars, the castle itself can be seen in all its glory, aged and elegant and, admittedly, beautiful. More beautiful still is the vast garden surrounding it, and this, more than anything, is what catches Belle’s attention - it’s just the right sort of overgrown: not so wild that it looks unkempt, but not pristine enough to be purely for display. Flowers of all colours spill and climb and stretch over whatever space they can find, while brick paths proudly walked keep whatever order they can manage, an effortlessly perfect balance. It looks lived in; it looks alive.
Belle approaches the gate calmly, and her presence of mind allows her to notice the hesitance in her father’s movements - he’s been a couple of paces behind her for their whole journey, but his reluctance to come closer is even more obvious now that she is standing still. It seems to take all of his strength to come and stand by her, and when he does, he can’t bring himself to look at the garden, and stares instead at the grass at his feet. Belle isn’t sure she can blame him.
It doesn’t feel like yesterday that her father returned home with nothing but sorrow and the scent of flowers. He’d blamed his depression on debt, the repossession of his cargo, and the excuse had seemed to satisfy her sisters, but their concerns centered more around the lack of gifts he’d brought with him. Belle could have believed it too, had he been able to look her in the eyes when he told her. He had looked at her as if she was dying in front of him, and she had known that something far worse must have happened.
Belle had had no problem being told of the hospitality of an unseen host, who had allowed the poor lost merchant food and shelter while lost in the woods. She hadn’t been prepared to hear that the price of her father taking advantage of such generosity was for him to send a daughter to stay in the castle indefinitely, or meet his own end. How exactly he’d caused offense, she didn’t know - all he’d said was something about a rose.
He had said rather considerably more about a beast.
Belle, thinking rationally, still finds it hard to believe that ‘beasts’ exist, but Belle has always thought that her father is as rational as she is, and the fear in his eyes as he looks out over the garden is hard to ignore. Just standing here at the gate is making him nervous, and the next seconds pass in a silence even more strained than before until finally-
“You don’t have to-”
“No.” Her father stares at her. It came out faster, more violently than Belle had intended it to. “It’s safer this way,” she explains, and it’s only half a lie.
Her father doesn’t look any less concerned. “But not for you.”
“I’ll be alright. I promise.” The slight wobble in her voice on promise makes his face crumple, and without hesitation, he leans in to pull her into a hug. Belle returns it without question, burying her face in his shoulder.
“I’m going to miss you so much.”
“I’ll be alright,” Belle says again, and then, quieter, “I’ll miss you too.” She pulls away after the first sniff, since the last thing she wants to do is cry in front of him. She gives him the best smile she can manage, but it comes out watery and weak. “I’ll be okay from here,” she tells him, and her father realises, as she’d hoped he would, that this is her way of telling him to go. He hesitates, but doesn’t protest, and turns wordlessly back to the woods - Belle is glad that he didn’t say anything, but the guilt in his eyes makes her chest ache as she watches him go. She tells herself that it’s better this way: she doesn’t want his last memory of her to be behind bars.
Once her father’s form has disappeared into the trees, Belle turns back to the gate - it’s heavy and stiff with disuse, but it’s not too difficult to move, and she ventures into the motionless garden - now that she’s in it, it feels a lot more sinister than peaceful. Iit seems unnatural for something so alive to be so still, even threatening, almost like it’s lying in wait; for what, she doesn’t want to think about.
As she nears the castle, Belle feels the prickling of foreign eyes watching her, and her head jerks towards one of the windows just in time to see a figure dart out of view. She pauses for a moment before continuing towards the main entrance, moving considerably slower. The feeling of being watched has left her, but as she comes to stand before the dark, imposing main doors, a sickening dread has taken its place: dread for what will become of her, and for what she’ll see on the other side of the door. In this state, she’s far more willing to believe any story.
Summoning what remains of her nerve, Belle raises a shaking hand, and knocks on the towering door as many times as she dares. She doesn’t know how long it takes before the door swings open, and it does so far faster than a door of its size and probable weight should be able to, at least by a human hand. She is not left wondering - when she sees what has opened the door, she understands, and immediately regrets her decision.
The creature standing before Belle does so in a human way, though that is the only human thing about it, save for the expensive-looking clothes it wears, which it has quite clearly outgrown, if one can outgrow a body shape rather than size. Its hands have all the digits of a human’s, but they end in long, clawed nails, and are covered in the same thick brown fur as the rest of it - its lack of shoes makes it clear that its feet are the same, long and padded like the hind paws of a lion. Its head, a hideous combination of animals, is covered in the same fur, but not so much that Belle can’t see the large, protruding teeth, or the eyes staring back at her. There is no better word for it, she must admit, than ‘Beast’. Her father was right.
The Beast opens its mouth, and that alone is enough to make Belle flinch back from it, though she’s surprised she can even move at all. Fear has her rooted to the stone steps, and though she can hardly bear to look at it, she can’t quite look away.
“Are you the daughter?” It has the voice of a man, but distorted, and every word comes out as a growl - Belle is too focused on this to register what it’s asking her, and she continues to stare at it in silence. “Are you the daughter?” it repeats, its tone more irritated now, and the new edge makes her jump, snapping her attention back to the question at hand, but leaving her thoughts no less frantic.
“I-I,” she stammers, but her voice catches in her throat. Too slow.
“Well?”
Tears start to well in her eyes, but as her vision starts to blur, she catches sight of a dart of movement from behind the Beast - it turns to face the source of the oncoming footsteps, and Belle takes the opportunity to quickly wipe her tears away.
Standing on the grand staircase behind the Beast is a young woman, lovely and livid with a pink gown and dark hair and a wrath Belle can feel from outside. Even elevated by several steps, Belle can tell that this woman is taller than she is, and given the sturdiness of her build, stronger, too, though her open hostility towards the Beast already proves that. Her pale face is contorted into a glare, but her beauty is still painfully obvious, her sharp features aimed like a dagger at the creature standing in front of Belle.
“What is wrong with you?” The woman descends the rest of the stairs, keeping her look of revulsion fixed on the Beast as she approaches, but when she turns to look at Belle for the first time, her temper seems to ease - at least, until she turns back to it, and her anger returns at full force. “You made her cry?”
Belle is amazed to see fear on the Beast’s face, fear at the sight of this seething young woman who only reaches his chin at her full height. “Of course n-”
The woman ignores him completely, turning instead to face Belle, her expression far gentler again, and she offers out her hand. “I’m so sorry - please, come with me, I’ll find you a room.”
Belle’s chest still feels tight, leaving her unable to take anything but tiny breaths, but she gives a shaky nod, and takes the other woman’s hand. She lets herself be pulled away up the grand staircase, but she’s still too dazed to take in her surroundings - the castle blurs past her, and it occurs to her that she should be more concerned with the situation at hand than the fact that she’s already crying, but she doesn’t care. Thoughts of laughter and taunting try to cloud her mind, but she does her best to ignore them, grounding herself with the feeling of the woman’s cold hand in hers.
By the time they reach a spacious bedroom, Belle has her breathing back under control, and has the presence of mind to recognise her surroundings, as well as the look of concern on the woman’s face.
“I’m fine,” Belle insists, before she can say anything, but she doesn’t look convinced, which doesn’t really come as a surprise. “Thank you, by the way,” she adds. “For saving me downstairs.”
The other girl lets out a long, slow breath, trying to calm herself down, but her hands are still clenched tightly into fists when she sits down on the edge of the bed, and motions for Belle to join her. “Honestly, you weren’t in any danger, but I didn’t want him being... him at you.”
Belle sits down next to her, sinking into the sheets. “Did he make you come here, too?”
The girl laughs, flashing Belle a grin as sharp as the rest of her. “No, I’m his daughter. Rose, by the way. I suppose you’re Belle?”
Rose. Now her father’s ramblings about stealing a rose made more sense - the price wasn’t a daughter for a flower. It was a daughter for a daughter. Even so, it’s hard to guess from looking at her that she could be related to something as inhuman as the Beast - at least, unless he hasn’t always been this way.
“How do you know my name?”
“I met your father, when he came here - he talked about you an awful lot. He tried to make me leave with him, and when my father found out, he was furious. It’s not like I would have gone in the first place, but it didn’t matter to him.” Rose sighs. “Although, I would have liked to have the option.”
Belle squashes down a spark of pride that her father would’ve mentioned her over her sisters. “Why wouldn’t you, though? Leave, I mean?”
“Well, he’s my family,” Rose replies, as if it proves a point. Belle just looks at her. Assuming Belle’s disbelief comes from her father’s appearance, she adds, “He wasn’t always like that. He was cursed by my mother, when she left - she was... a witch, I suppose. Honestly, you can spend five minutes with him and see why she did it. It was supposed to teach him a lesson, but I can’t see it working. He’s so impossible.”
Before today, Belle did not believe in curses. After today, Belle thinks she’ll believe anything. “Can anything change him back?”
“Yes. True love.” Rose keeps a completely straight face when she says it, but the second her eyes meet with Belle’s, both women burst into laughter. “No, really.”
“God, the poor man.”
“He’ll save a fortune on fur coats, though.”
“That’s a horrible thing to say,” Belle says, but she giggles all the same. It feels like an age since she last laughed, and it occurs to her that the same could be true for Rose - they share matching smiles, weightless and silly and everything they haven’t been able to be, and for the first time in God only knows how long, Belle feels like everything could be okay.
“You know, if you want, I can give you a tour of the castle,” Rose offers. “You’ll need to know your way around. And on the way back, I can pick up some of my dresses for you.”
Belle smiles at her. “Yeah. I’d like that.”
The words are barely out of her mouth, and yet Rose has already leapt to her feet, her expression even brighter than before. “Right, then, let’s go. We’ve got a lot of castle to see.”
With understandable enthusiasm for a woman living alone with a monster, Rose pulls Belle through the winding stone corridors by the arm with an energy Belle can barely match, and yet there is nobody else Belle would rather have showing her around. Despite the circumstances she lives in, her love for the place shows clearly in the way she describes everything, proud and protective. The details only someone who’s lived here their whole life would know come out so casually in her descriptions, revealing the secrets of the castle to such a degree that, to someone so new to the place, it feels indecent to listen to, but Belle couldn’t tear her attention away from Rose even if she wanted to. She is vaguely aware of the fact that she isn’t taking in nearly enough of what Rose is saying, but she can’t bring herself to care.
Eventually, the tour extends to the garden, and, looking at it with a new sense of reassurance, Belle can now fully appreciate the beauty of it - even the garden walls, with the tops of the pines peeking over them, are just another elegant feature of the castle’s design, no more intimidating than the arches and pillars of the castle itself, no longer reminiscent of a prison.
She lets her fingers brush lightly over the heads of flowers as she walks. “Lots of roses, I see.”
Rose smiles, picking one from a bush, twirling the stem in her hand. “My father planted them for my mother, before they got married.”
“And they named you after them?”
“Very perceptive.”
“Very symbolic.”
She snorts. “Oh, coming from Beauty over there.” Rose slides her a sideways glance. “Not that it’s entirely inaccurate.”
Belle laughs. Rose does not.
“Rose!” The cry comes from the castle; the Beast, standing in an archway, looks out to them. Belle thinks for a moment that, since he’d shouted so loud, he might be frustrated, but then she looks at him a little harder - perhaps it’s the distance confusing her vision, but the Beast looks nervous, as if he’d rather shout to them than come any closer. She doesn't understand why someone like him would fear anything, least of all them. He points over to Belle, beckoning her over, and she shoots Rose a worried look.
“It’ll be fine,” Rose says, under her breath. Belle raises her eyebrows. “It will. He probably just wants to talk to you.”
“Don't say 'probably’!”
“Just go!”
Reluctantly, Belle makes her way along the garden paths towards the Beast; as she draws closer, all doubt recedes - he definitely looks apprehensive of her, but why? All she’s done so far is cry in front of him.
Belle comes awkwardly to stand in front of the Beast, and for a moment, he just looks at her, unsure of what to say.
“Are you alright?” Belle asks.
He looks surprised. “What?”
“You look like something’s troubling you. Are you alright?” If I’m bothering you that much, I’m only here because you made me, she thinks, but doesn’t dare say. Besides, it would be cruel.
For a moment, the Beast just looks at her, confused, perhaps as to why a creature like him would be asked such a question, perhaps as to why she would be brave enough to speak out. But then he forces out, “I came to apologize.”
Belle can’t help but raise an eyebrow. “For keeping me here?”
“For startling you earlier.” He stalls for a moment, fighting expression from his face. He looks out over the garden, which Belle might interpret as disinterest if she hadn’t seen him so nervous a moment ago. The fact that he refuses to look at her is very telling. “What is your name?”
“It’s Belle.”
He gives a brisk nod. “Well, I’m- I’m sorry, Belle.” He lingers for a moment, uncertain, before turning back through the archway, stalking away back towards the castle.
The footsteps scraping their way up the path announce Rose’s presence before she speaks; she comes to stand beside her, nudging Belle’s shoulder with hers. “Are you alright?”
“Yes. That was just... strange, is all.”
“I told you he wouldn’t be any trouble,” Rose says, and smiles, in an ominous sort of way. Belle has a feeling she knows who the Beast was really afraid of upsetting. Rose links their arms together again, starting back towards the castle. “Come on - let’s go get those dresses. You don’t need to worry about him.”
As the days pass, Belle quickly finds that Rose was right - the Beast keeps to himself to the extent that Belle barely sees him. But while the Beast remains a stranger to her, she and Rose grow ever closer - Belle had been terrified that she would be miserable in the castle, but she finds herself becoming closer than she’d ever thought possible with the lonely, lovely girl. Belle barely notices the days spreading into weeks as she spends every possible moment of them with Rose, sharing the stories and secrets they’d never been able to tell, and the castle sees more laughter than it has done in years. Belle wonders, most days, how she could have gotten so lucky in a situation that had once seemed so grim.
The gardens, from the first day, have remained Belle’s favourite part of the castle - she wanders through them every morning, before Rose wakes up to join her. Usually, her walks are peaceful, uneventful, but, on a morning in her fourth week at the castle, she sees something odd on her way: the Beast, standing at the gate, with a young woman on the other side.
Curious, Belle draws closer to them, but a few paces further and the cold weight of dread drops itself upon her as she recognises the girl at the gate to be her sister, Livia. Belle’s first instinct is to go back inside, and ask the Beast what she had wanted at a later, safer time, but Livia has already seen her, and Belle realises that she has no choice but to talk to her.
“Belle!” Her sister’s face breaks into a teary smile as she sees her approaching. The concern in her face, to Belle’s surprise, seems genuine enough. “Oh, we’ve been so worried-”
“Livia, what are you doing here?” Belle can only hope she doesn’t sound as nervous as she feels. She casts an uneasy look towards the seemingly indifferent Beast. “What’s going on?”
“It’s our sister. Portia,” she adds for Belle’s benefit, though she doesn’t see why it matters - they’ve gelled into one entity into her head, a four-headed beast of their own right. “She’s fallen terribly ill - we don’t know if she’ll...” Livia pauses for a moment to compose herself. “We want Belle to come home. Just so P can see her again.”
The Beast doesn’t so much as look at Belle when he asks, “And she would only be staying for a few days?”
“Of course. It might be all the time we have.”
The Beast considers this, then turns to Belle for the first time since she arrived. “And would you go?”
“Yes,” Belle replies, too quickly - in the face of her sister’s possible demise, she can’t very well say no, but she regrets it the second the word leaves her mouth. Still, if Livia really has been worried about her, perhaps she has nothing to be afraid of, returning home. Considerably quieter nonetheless, Belle adds, “She’s my sister.”
Livia beams up at the Beast, reaching out to hold Belle’s hands through the bars with a grip that makes Belle’s fingers hurt. “Oh, thank you! Can we expect her tomorrow?”
The Beast nods, a dismissive gesture - there will be no more said on the matter, and Livia must go. Belle wasn’t sure whether or not she got what she expected: the Beast never raised his voice, but then again, she’s never seen him do so in all the time she’s spent here. On the other hand, hearing him make Belle’s plans for her as if she were a child has been a particularly irritating habit of his. Picking up on his meaning as well, Livia gives them both a last winning smile before turning her back on them, and heading off back into the forest.
Unwilling to watch her sister’s retreat for any longer than she has to, Belle starts to walk away, already thinking of how long she has left in the castle before she has to go. She didn’t realise how much she was going to miss it.
“Belle.” The Beast’s voice breaks her out of her thoughts, unexpected enough to startle her, but there’s no menace in his tone. “Would you walk with me?”
She isn’t quite sure why he would want to, but she nods, and he comes to walk beside her. They stay quiet for a little while, but just as Belle begins to wonder whether he’s doing it out of obligation, or simply prefers less involving company, the Beast speaks.
“Why was it that you came here?”
Belle wants to tell him that she had no choice, but, when she thinks about it, it’s not entirely true. She could have refused, she could have let her brothers go to the castle to fight for her, and yet, she’d chosen to go. “What do you mean?”
“You have sisters. Any one of them could have come here, so why you?” He pauses for a second, a hint of understanding crossing his face. “Was it your father’s choice?”
“No, it was mine,” she says, with rather more of an edge to her voice than she’d intended. It’s becoming increasingly hard to stay patient with the Beast’s idea that she can’t make decisions by herself. “I wanted to get away.”
“Even on someone else’s terms?”
“It worked.”
He considers this for a moment, and Belle is glad he didn’t pry any further. Finally, he asks, “Are you happy here?” The question catches Belle off-guard - she hadn’t been expecting any sort of emotional consideration from the Beast, but though he seems oblivious to her capability of independent thought, he’s never been intentionally insensitive towards her. She nods, and he seems satisfied. “Since you came here, my daughter is happier than I’ve ever seen her. I’m grateful for that.”
Belle smiles. It’s the first time she’s heard him display any sort of affection for Rose, or any real emotion at all. She likes him better this way. “I’m glad I could help her. It’s awful, being alone.” Realising her mistake, she quickly backtracks. “Except for you, of course, I didn’t mean-”
The Beast shakes his head, holding up a hand in reassurance. “Rose and I don’t speak often, and I don’t blame her for that. I hardly count as pleasant company.”
“I don’t think that’s entirely true.” The Beast gives her a strange look. How long must have been since someone last spoke well of him? “You’re just... not so good with people.” She pauses. “You care about Rose, don’t you?”
“Of course I do,” he says, the hurt in his voice obvious.
“When was the last time you told her that?”
“Belle!”
Belle turns to see Rose standing a short way away by the main doors, looking expectantly out to her. The Beast, still silenced by Belle’s last comment, merely stares at Belle’s apologetic smile and her little wave of goodbye as she goes to join Rose in the doorway.
It suddenly hits her that she’s going to have to tell Rose that she’s leaving. It will only be for a few days, of course, but to a girl who’s been alone for so long, how long will three more lonely days feel? Looking at Rose’s smile, she feels her heart sink.
“What just happened?” Rose notices her expression, and frowns. “Are you feeling okay?”
“I’m fine.” She doesn’t look convinced. Belle sighs. “It was my sister at the gate.”
Rose quickly hides the flash of apprehension on her face, but not fast enough to stop Belle’s chest tightening when she sees it. “What did she want?”
“One of my sisters is sick - they want me to come home to see her. Just for a few days,” Belle adds, hurriedly.
“What did Papa say?” Papa. Rose doesn’t seem to notice, but it’s the first time Belle has heard her call him anything affectionate - has their relationship always been like this?
“He told her I’d be there tomorrow.” Rose takes a sharp inhale, and Belle quickly adds, “He asked.”
Rose considers this for a moment, and to Belle’s surprise, a sly smile spreads across her face.
“What’s that look?”
“Can you meet me outside my bedroom at six?”
“Why?”
“It’s a surprise.” Belle is about to ask further, but Rose is already on her way up the stairs, leaving the other woman staring after her, bewildered. She stops only to lean over the banisters, her smile wild and bright and beautiful, and shout down, “Just trust me!”
Rose’s whereabouts remain a mystery for the rest of the day, in fact - though Belle busies herself with packing a bag for her days away, the afternoon passes with no sign of her. Curious, Belle arrives at her door at six to see what she has planned. She knocks on the door, and hears Rose’s call of “Come in!” from inside a second later - pushing open the door, she finds Rose standing in front of her, with a large cake in her arms, covered in piped flowers.
“Surprise! It’s the smallest going away party in the world.” Belle can't help but laugh. Rose gives her a nervous smile. “Alright, so I just wanted an excuse to make you a cake, but I’m going to miss you.”
“It’s only going to be three days.” It's an empty reassurance - three days is too long for both of them, and Belle knows it. “Thank you, though. It's beautiful.” It seems to make Rose feel better, but the reminder of their time apart still looms over them both. Seeking a distraction, Belle drifts over to a piano tucked into the corner of Rose’s room; dusting off the long stool in front of it, she sits. “I never noticed you had a piano in your room.”
Rose looks up from cutting the cake. “It was my mother’s. I never learned to play it, though.”
Belle raises a hand to her chest in mock disdain. “What sort of lady doesn’t learn to play the piano?”
“Maybe you should teach me, if it’s so unbearable.”
“Maybe I will.” Belle pats the space next to her. “Come, sit.”
Rose raises an eyebrow, but does as Belle says. She presses a few experimental keys, and frowns. “It’s a bit out of tune.”
“Then it’ll hide your mistakes for you.” Rose snorts. “What do you want to learn to play?”
“What's your favourite song?”
Belle smiles. “Follow my lead.” She begins to play an old, slow song, one of the first she’d learned - a lullaby, dear enough to her for it to still sound good despite Rose's mistakes. After her fifth unsuccessful try, she huffs, sitting back from the keys.
“Clearly, you’re the graceful one.”
“Maybe it would be easier if you put your fingers over mine.” Rose gives Belle a look, and she blushes. “So you can follow along.”
Rose is still grinning as she complies, and places her hands over Belle's: this time, when Belle plays, there's no need to stop - moving together, there are no mistakes. Belle puts it down to her doing all the real moving, but when she takes her hands away, Rose retraces her steps beautifully. Belle lays her head on her shoulder, sneaking glances at her as she concentrates on the music, her hair falling over her face in dark waves.
“I wish we could have someone else play it for us,” Rose says, softly. “Then we could dance.” She looks down at Belle where she rests on her shoulder - the music comes to a standstill as Rose stops playing, instead lifting a hand to tuck a stray hair behind Belle’s ear, as gently as she can.
Belle sighs, despite herself, and half hopes Rose hadn’t noticed, but surely it wouldn’t make a difference; she’ll just go back to playing, and Belle can go back to sighing in secret with nobody to stop her or tell her that the way she feels is too silly, too much of a risk. But Rose does not keep playing. With the hand still resting at Belle’s temple, Rose tilts Belle’s chin up to face her - a moment that feels like an age passes, hesitant, holding their breath until the anticipation fizzing in their blood gets the better of them both and Rose leans in to kiss her. Belle doesn’t know how long it lasts, she only knows it’s not long enough, but despite the elation of it, when Rose pulls back she can feel unwanted tears prickling her eyes.
“Belle?” Rose’s face fills with concern as she notices, moving her hand to rest on Belle’s arm, her touch grounding. “What’s wrong? Should I not have-?” Belle shakes her head; Rose visibly relaxes, if only a little. “Then what?”
“I just-” she pauses, hating how childish the words sound. “-I don’t want to go home.”
“Why not? It’s only a few days,” Rose says, as if she hadn’t had to hear the same reassurances only minutes ago. “Hey, come on, you can tell me.”
Belle looks at the genuine worry on Rose’s face, and in that moment, she feels like she could tell her anything. She takes a deep, slow breath, and Rose doesn’t rush her. “My father used to go away a lot, and whenever he did, my sisters would always be awful to me. They’d make me act like their servant, and make fun of me, and then whenever I started crying, they’d tell me I was too sensitive.” She gives a teary laugh. “See? I’m fine, honestly, I’m just always overreacting.”
“No, you’re not!” Belle blinks, shocked by the emotion in Rose’s voice, the outrage in her tone. She seems to recognise her mistake, and her voice softens. “Really, you’re not. Belle, that’s awful. Why didn’t your father ever stop them?”
“They never did it in front of him. And if I went crying to him, I’d only be proving them right.”
Rose lets out a long sigh and wraps her arms around her, pulling her in for a hug that leaves her with her head on Rose’s shoulder again. “There’s nothing wrong with being sensitive. You weren’t even being sensitive. You were going through a lot; I’d be worried if you didn’t cry.”
“I know that. Logically, I know that, but when it happens...” She sniffs again, and leans in closer. “I’m really scared to go back, Rose.”
For a minute, there is only silence, and Belle rests on Rose’s shoulder, comforting herself with the other woman’s warmth before Rose stirs, eyes lighting up with a new idea. “What if I went with you?”
“What?”
“I could go with you!” Rose beams, and Belle can’t help but smile back. She could get through those few days, if only Rose was there too.
“W-What if your father doesn’t let you?”
“Then I’ll sneak out.” Belle gives her a scandalized look, but Rose doesn’t seem to care. “I don’t want you facing your family alone while I’m just sitting here doing nothing. Here, look-” Rose jumps up from the seat to go and rummage in a drawer, eventually producing a large ring, and two handled mirrors. She comes to sit back down with Belle, and spreads the three items out gently across their laps. “My father gave me these to give to you. They’re some of my mother’s old things - they’re enchanted.” She picks up the ring, holding it up for Belle to see. “If you twist the stone, it’ll bring you straight back to the castle; I’m sure it would take two of us if we held onto each other.” She indicates the mirrors. “And these were meant to be for us, but we could leave one behind so father knows we’re alright.”
“What do they do?”
“If you look through one, you can see whoever has the other one.” Belle looks at the mirrors in wonder - it feels like a plan with them there, but there is still the issue of the Beast. As if predicting Belle’s next worry, Rose adds, “It’s easier if I just sneak out without bringing it up. Say goodbye before he has a chance to see you out, and I’ll meet you in the gardens, okay?”
When the time comes, Belle does her best to follow Rose’s instructions, but to her relief she doesn’t even see the Beast on her way. When she reaches the gardens, she finds Rose waiting for her by a pillar with the ring and one of the mirrors in hand- they’d agreed that Belle would pack extra for her in her own bag, rather than have Rose looking suspicious with a bag of her own.
“He didn’t notice you leave?” Belle asks, her voice quiet despite their solitude.
“No - I think we’re alright.”
The two waste no time: with the mirror stowed away and the ring slipped onto Belle’s finger, the two set off into the forest. It doesn’t take long to break free of the cover of the trees - the sudden brightness of the sunlight hurts, but Rose’s eyes wander over every detail, while Belle’s stay downcast, doing her best to ignore their surroundings to the extent that she almost leads Rose straight past the house she used to call home.
“This is the one.” It’s the first thing she’s said since they left the castle. Each step up the path is a journey in itself; at its head, with Rose beside her. Belle knocks on the front door as many times as she dares. It’s answered almost immediately by Belle’s eldest sister, Mara, an uncharacteristically bright smile plastered onto her face.
“Belle!” Mara’s smile loses a little of its brightness as she registers Rose’s presence. “Who’s this?”
“This is Rose. She’s the Beast’s daughter.” Mara raises her eyebrows, and Belle does her best not to think about how it must sound. “She’s my-” Memories of the previous night flash through her mind. Friend? Girlfriend? Everything? “- friend. I’m sorry, I know it's unexpected...”
Her sister waves away her apologies, already turning back into the house. Rose gives Belle a look caught halfway between triumph and confusion, and Belle can only shoot her an apologetic one back.
She’s only been away for a few weeks, but, stepping back into the hallways of a house she could never truly call home, it feels like she never left. A sudden rush of gratitude for Rose’s presence washes over her - she reaches behind her, finding Rose’s hand with hers, and feels a gentle squeeze of reassurance in response. Strengthened, and remembering with a jolt the real reason for their trip, Belle asks, “Is Portia in her room?”
Mara doesn’t turn around. “Yes. Oh, but you mustn’t go to see her yet. She’s sleeping. You wouldn’t want to stop her healing, would you?” Belle doesn’t respond, silenced by the sharpness in her sister’s voice - too sharp, no worry in her tone to match the words, but Belle supposes it could be the stress of Portia’s illness - and she remains silent as she makes her way to her room with Rose in tow.
Her bedroom hasn’t been touched since she left - everything is exactly where she left it, only now, under a thin layer of dust unshifted by her family. Belle lays her bag down on the end of her bed with a sigh as Rose looks around. She doesn’t know how to feel about being back in her old bedroom: there’s nothing warm in the familiarity of the house, save for memories of her father, but now, he is nowhere to be found - away again to work, Livia had told her.
Belle looks up to catch Rose looking at her inquisitively. “Are you alright?”
She gives her a little nod. “It’s just... being back here. Especially with my father away again-” she sighs, cutting herself off before she can say any more, unwilling to get emotional again. Not here.
“Well, if you can’t see your sister yet, there’s no point in staying here,” Rose says, and smiles. Belle raises her eyebrows. “I want to explore - I can’t even remember the last time I was out of the castle. I’d love to see where you grew up.”
Just looking at Rose’s smile gives Belle a sense of hope, the first hope she’s had in this house for a long time - another reminder of just how lucky she is that Rose is with her - and without a second thought, she agrees. They go without a word to her sisters, and as she shows Rose around her hometown, she finds Rose’s wonder contagious: like the castle, she finds a way to make everything Belle has taken for granted or overlooked into something beautiful. Belle had realised, before they’d even kissed, that she was falling in love with Rose, but now she feels like she could fall in love with anything if Rose told her she could.
They stay out longer than they should, forgetting all about the time until they see the sun lowering in the sky, remembering themselves as the town is bathed in gold, and they return to the house lighter than when they had left. Belle can't even bring herself to worry over whether her sisters will be angry at them - thankfully, they meet no opposition when they enter the house: to save Belle from having to face them, Rose offers to explain for both of them, and disappears into the house as Belle heads upstairs.
Only a few minutes later, Rose joins Belle in her room, but the look of suspicion on her face makes Belle worry. “Did you say your sister’s name was Portia? The one who’s ill?” she asks.
Belle frowns. “I did, why?”
From the way Rose’s brow furrows, Belle knows it wasn't the right thing to say. “I just saw Livia talking to someone she called Portia, and she looked perfectly healthy. Not very pleased, but healthy. You don’t know any other Portias, do you?”
“No, P’s the only one in town.” Rose’s eyebrows raise, and Belle realises what must be going through her head, too. “You don’t think she’s faking, do you?”
“I just think it’s awfully suspicious that they would ask you over to see a dying sister, and then not let you see her.” Belle can see a new realisation dawn on her face as she adds, “And with your father away, too?”
“You think... you think they were going to trick me into staying here?”
Seeing the fear set into Belle’s face, Rose quickly backtracks. “Hey, it’s alright. They probably just thought you were in danger at the castle - if you explain, surely they’ll be fine with letting you go back.”
“They won’t,” Belle says, her voice as faint and shaky as she feels. “They don't care about me. They just want me back to be their servant again. Rose, I can't stay here-”
“You’re not going to.” The determination in Rose’s voice is comforting, but not enough to dull down the dread pooling in her gut. “We’re going back to the castle.”
“But you’ve only just gotten out-”
“So? I don’t care where I am, as long as I’m with you and you’re safe, and-”
She doesn’t get to finish - without a second’s hesitation, Belle stands up on her tiptoes to cup Rose’s face in her hands and kiss her as hard as she dares. A startled noise is all that separates their collision and Rose returning the kiss with all of the breathlessness and enthusiasm they had held back the night before, and suddenly, Belle’s whole world is Rose’s hand tangling in her hair and Rose’s lips and Rose, Rose, Rose.
“Oh my god!”
Belle springs back from the kiss as the door slams open, and she can only hope for a moment that Rose won’t take offense before the fear curls into every corner of her at the sight of Livia standing in the doorway, her shrill cry still ringing in Belle’s ears. “Livia-”
“I knew there was something wrong with you. You’re just as bad as your father.” Livia gasps theatrically. “Are you a monster too?”
Belle can see the fury in Rose’s eyes; she wishes she could be brave enough to stand up to her sisters, but she can't, she can't move. “How dare you call me a monster after how you’ve treated Belle, you filthy liar-”
A disgusted noise sounds from beside Belle’s bag - when Belle turns, her heart in a vice, she sees that Mara had entered without her realising, and has found the enchanted mirror. “A monster and a witch. Look, this mirror’s cursed!”
“Don’t touch that! That was my mother’s!” Rose snatches the mirror out of her hand with such ferocity that the other girl stumbles back without protest. She drops her gaze to the glass, and her face drains of colour - when she speaks, the horror in her voice turns Belle’s blood to ice. “Papa?”
In a second, Belle is at her side, holding Rose’s shaking hand in hers to save her from dropping the mirror, but what she sees through it makes her wish she could smash it from frame and mind. Within it, lying in the garden with eyes shut in a grimace of pain, is the Beast, holding the mirror at arm’s length, just far enough from himself to reveal blood darkening the grass around him. Thinking frantically, Belle remembers what Rose had said about the magic ring - twist the stone, and it'll take you straight back to the castle.
“Hold on to me.” Rose gives her a frantic look, but when Belle raises the hand wearing the ring, she understands, and flings her arms back around Belle, clinging for all she’s worth. Heart thumping, Belle turns the stone.
“Belle!” Her sister's cries don't matter to her - they dissolve along with the rest of the house as her surroundings warp and change, replacing the walls of her old prison with the open air of her new home and leaving the two girls standing at the castle’s main doors.
Spotting her father’s limp form in the gardens, Rose runs to him, with Belle close behind. Rose reaches him first, falling to her knees beside him: he lies on his side, turned away from her, but when she rolls him onto his back, the wound in his chest is painfully visible from the dark bloodstain seeping into his clothes.
“Papa!” Rose tries to gently shake her father back to consciousness, but he barely stirs. “Wake up! Come on, please wake up...”
Noticing metal glinting in the Beast’s huge closed fist, Belle loosens his grip, pulling free a bloodstained knife as nausea rises in her throat. “Rose...”
Rose makes a sound caught between a wail and a sob that makes Belle's own chest hurt. “Why would he have done this?” Rose looks up with a sudden gasp, and Belle follows her gaze to the mirror still clutched in his other paw. “Oh god, Belle, this is my fault. He must have thought we were running away.” Guilt stabs at Belle’s heart as Rose raises a bloodstained hand to her mouth, tears streaking her cheeks. “I didn’t know... I didn’t think he cared that much.”
“Of course he did, he loved- he loves you-” Belle's eyes widen as a sudden idea hits her. “True love. That was what you said could save him, wasn’t it?”
Rose just looks at her, confused. “You don’t think we-”
“N-no, no, I mean... nobody ever said it had to be romantic, did it?” She can see Rose considering what she's telling her, but she doesn't seem to quite understand yet. “We thought your mother was just being cruel, but she would’ve been leaving you alone, she would’ve wanted to know whether he’d-”
“Love me,” Rose finishes, finally understanding. Her face crumpling, she lays her head down on his chest and breaks, her whole body shaking with the force of her sobs. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I didn't understand, please, Papa, I love you, I’m so sorry...”
Tears pooling in Belle's eyes, she reaches out to lay a hand on Rose’s shoulder, but recoils with a gasp as she sees a soft glow emanate from the Beast's body - Rose seems oblivious, but when it grows brighter, she sits up with a choked gasp, shuffling back from the light. It only grows brighter, until the Beast's entire body disappears behind the glow of the magic - it stays that way for a few moments, and Rose shoots Belle a teary, bewildered look, until finally, the glow begins to fade. But when the Beast's silhouette becomes visible again, Belle can immediately see that he has changed, and her heart leaps with a new hope that is only confirmed when the glow fades completely, and the two girls see, not a beast, but a man whose younger self Belle has seen in portraits in the castle. His eyes open, and Rose gives a shuddering gasp as he turns his head to look at her, realisation dawning on his face as he sees his hand, his human hand, lying on the grass beside him.
“Papa?”
“Rose,” he says, softly, his face breaking into a smile, the same stunned, shaky smile that appears on his daughter’s face. Moving as one, she throws herself at him, and he sits up to receive her; they collide with a force that must hurt Rose’s father’s chest after its only recently healed wound, but they cling to each other without caring, burying their faces in each other's shoulders. “Oh, god, Rose.”
Even just looking at them, at the way tears stream freely down the former Beast’s cheeks, Belle can feel her own eyes filling, and for the first time she can remember, she doesn't care. When Rose’s father opens his eyes again, seeing Belle for the first time, he gives her a watery smile, outstretching an arm to her - at first, Belle hesitates, not wanting to interrupt, but the gratitude in his eyes and the relief still flooding through her at his recovery persuade her otherwise. He pulls her into their embrace without a second thought, and when Rose's hand finds hers in the tangle of limbs, Belle finds herself surrounded with more love than she ever thought she’d feel in her life.
As the sun sets over the castle gardens and all of its beloved roses, it is a beautiful day to be home, and it is the perfect word for it, even if Belle had to make it herself.
