Snippet #2288489

Belle
Belle and her horse, Philippe, looked down over the town of Feather Brooke from their vantage point atop a rise not far from her castle. She watched the hustle and bustle of the townspeople, she glanced over at Gaston’s tavern and a small twinge of longing clenched her belly. Belle averted her eyes quickly, Philippe snorted and stomped his front foot. “What is it, Philippe?” She asked her horse softly. Since the love stone was stolen she had been less talkative toward her long time friend because some of the magic in his eyes has died. He responds to her voice less and less these days. His face and eyes becoming more like that of a dumb beast than the loving friend she remembered. Even now, the horse sidestepped but she yanked his reigns and brought him under control quickly though his eyes did look a little wild.
A drop of water landed on her forehead and made her look up. The sky was darker than she had seen it in quite some time, if ever. Goosebumps raised the hair along her arms and she quickly lifted the hood of her cloak. The moment after she lifted her hood it was as if God dumped an endless bucket of water on them. In seconds, she and Philippe were soaked. Lightening struck the ground not far from where the pair stood. The horse whinnied loudly and bucked and for a moment Belle thought she would lose control.
Instead she whispered softly to the old horse, calming and soothing his raw nerves. “Take us home Phillipe.” She whispered and in the years following the theft of the love stone the horse would snort in response and turn them toward the direction of the castle post haste. Instead it was Belle who directed the animal and made toward her castle at a reasonable pace but the last thing she’d want to do was have the horse slip and take a tumble with her on it.
When she got to her courtyard she slid off the horse and grabbed his reigns in one smooth motion while he was still moving. She handed him over to a soaking wet stable boy and made her way up the front stairs to the entryway of her castle. What was once her prison.
She opened the door and slid in to it quickly and was met by Cogsworth. The squat, fat little man was making his way toward her at quite a clip. Belle sighed softly, pulling the string of her cloak so it slipped from her shoulders. She bundled the wet cloak into her hands and plopped it unceremoniously into Cogworth’s chest. His face contorted into a look of disgust as he held the sopping bundle away from his body. She continued to walk and Cogsworth followed her nervously. He was less annoying when he was a clock. “Madam, Prince Adam is not feeling well and is on bed rest for the rest of the day.” ‘Thank God’ she thought to herself with relief. The last thing she needed was his neediness when her thoughts were filled with Gaston. “He has asked not to be disturbed in the West Wing.” This made her pause for only a moment, her mind flashing back to the days of the Beast.
“Why? Is it forbidden?” She asked slyly. If she wasn’t soaked she would go there directly. As it was, however, “I’m retiring to my chambers.” She stated before he could stutter out an answer. She took back her old prison cell as her bed chamber. A lovely cell, yes, but a cell nonetheless. Her handmaid came in shortly after her arrival to help her undress, bathe and redress. She watched the friendly old woman with curiosity. Everyone had so much more life when they were furniture. There was no more singing, dancing or the careless abandon she felt when she first arrived. Now everything was stale, servants just going through the motions. “Do you know what ills my husband?” She asked what was once her wardrobe. “No m’lady.” Was the short lifeless response. She stared at the woman for a moment, wondering whether she was oblivious or lying. She decided on the former which meant that Adam was keeping something from the castle.