As Old As Time: A Twisted Tale (Twisted Tale, A) (42 page)

No one made any move to grab the Beast, or shoot him, or lock him up.

Belle tried to focus on
those
things. She made herself think about all the bad things that
weren’t
happening at that moment, that could have been happening, instead of just the sick theatrical demonstration from a very confused man and how she was now the center of everyone’s attention.

Including…Monsieur Lévi. Who was looking at her interestedly. Like he was fascinated to see what she would do next. Like he trusted her and knew whatever it was, it would be the right thing.

She could hear a rushing in her ears. It had been a while since she had eaten.

“Gaston, did you burn down Monsieur Lévi’s bookshop?”

It was strange how her voice carried. She didn’t speak loudly, only clearly. And yet her precise words rang out like she had shouted the accusation.

Gaston’s eyebrows shot up in surprise.

“What? Yes! But I was looking for Maurice. D’Arque told me he might be there. And also he had said that Lévi was…not a nice person.”

But even as he said these words he looked confused, realizing how ridiculous they sounded.

“He
was
dangerous, really….”

Belle just kept gazing at him.

“Well, his books are dangerous!” Gaston persisted. “They turned you into what you are—a foolish girl who doesn’t want to marry me!
Me
, Gaston! Every girl in the village wants to marry me! And, also, they’re a fire hazard….”

Belle couldn’t even begin to sort out her thoughts, or what she really wanted to say to Gaston. Her feelings ran from
kill him
to
oh, why waste the effort, he’s hopeless.
…

And by the way the crowd was watching him babble on, it was obvious that the town was done with their favorite son.

A speech from her about how burning down people’s stores—and books—was a terrible crime wouldn’t accomplish much at this point.

So Belle very carefully turned away from him and addressed everyone else instead.

“I will, obviously, not be marrying Gaston today—for many reasons. As he will no doubt understand when he thinks about it for a moment, less overwhelmed by recent events.”

“Belle…” Gaston whispered, embarrassed.

She ignored him.

“And we will
not
be locking up the Beast,” she announced loudly, walking over and putting a hand on his arm. “He is the Prince—no,
King
—of a forgotten magical land through the forest, which some of you may start to remember now. He came here to free his people—and you—from a man who has committed
many
unspeakable atrocities. D’Arque has kidnapped innocent souls both from that kingdom and this village to perform hideous experiments on them.”

Belle turned so she could look as many people in the eye as she could on one sweep of her gaze.

She took a deep breath. “I recommend a thorough search of this house and property. Besides any lingering prisoners, there may be things family members wish to see…books in the library that list all of D’Arque’s victims…”

She trailed off, unsure what else to say.

Stunned and confused by the strange events of the night, the villagers chose to cling to her suggestion. It was at least a place to start to try and understand everything that had happened. The angry, sad, and curious went to explore the asylum. The families of patients who still lived found them and finally took them home.

Some just stayed in groups, whispering and muttering about it all.

Gaston looked on with an obvious lack of comprehension.

“No, wait,” he said to no one in particular, leaping up. “D’Arque
had
to die. I
had
to kill him. Don’t you see? He was a sick man! A
murderer
! Someone had to do it….”

“
Someone
, Gaston,” the butcher said. “A judge. A court of law. An
executioner.
Or maybe he would have been sentenced to rot in his own prison. Not
you.
”

“He was an evil man,” Monsieur Sauveterre said with disgust. “But I will not be able to close my eyes for weeks without seeing him brutally murdered before me. I just thank God my children weren’t here to see it as well.”

Gaston ran through the crowd, entreating other people, but everyone turned away and refused to listen.

Belle slumped, leaning against the Beast. She felt a million years old, a million pains all over her body. It was
not
, strictly, a happy ending. Wasn’t it supposed to be? Why wasn’t it all neat and finished, with a “the end”?

The Prince must have felt the same way; he stood there silently, just holding her.

Rosalind approached them cautiously, her eyes on the Beast.

“Nothing I can ever say can make up for what I did,” she began after a deep breath. “I thought I was saving what was left of a kingdom. I thought I was avenging all who had been hurt by your parents’ actions. And I was no better than that crazy man with the machete over there. Except that what I did had much vaster, more disastrous consequences.”

The Beast looked at her for a long moment before speaking.

“Thank you,” he finally said. Then his face broke into an ironic, sad smile. “I think…as my first official act…as
king
, I declare amnesty. Forgiveness for everyone.”

“But not forgetting,” Maurice added quickly, with a shudder. “I never want to forget anything again. That was rash, Rosalind. That forget spell.”

“I thought I was protecting
les charmantes
,” she said with a sad sigh. “Instead, it seems I have hastened our extinction. But listen…” She pulled herself together, and despite the prematurely white hair, the wear and tear her poor body had undergone, Belle saw a glimpse of the woman she once was: the powerful, indomitable Enchantress. She addressed the Prince. “You managed to stop yourself from becoming a full-fledged beast. Well done! Recovering your human soul and mind on your own, I mean.”

The Beast blinked.

“Permanently? I’m not going to…relapse? Go back to being a beast—I mean, in my head—again?”

“Of course not,” Rosalind said impatiently. “As long as your love for Belle—and hers for you—lasts. The spell is broken, or mitigated, at least.”

Belle and the Beast looked at each other, eyes wide.

The Beast suddenly began to scratch the back of his neck in embarrassment. Belle blushed.

And then she found herself almost overcome with giggles.

“It’s pretty obvious,” Maurice pointed out with a smile.

“Yes, another factor in my punishment,” Rosalind said grimly. “Magic always comes back on itself…of course it would be my daughter who would break the spell. I am an idiot. And now here you are, her future husband. A
prince.
”

“King,” Maurice corrected mildly. “And really, is that such a bad thing?”

“Yes, it is. But that’s beside the point. I only have the tiniest bit of magic left, children—but it’s just enough to turn you human again. Like you deserve.”

The Beast’s eyes widened. His mouth opened and closed several times.

Belle’s heart leapt—for the first time in years, it seemed. Happily ever after
was
going to happen! Just like in books! It really was!

And then the Beast asked a single question.

“What about my servants?”

Belle immediately felt like an idiot. She had entirely forgotten them in the excitement.

“It’s worse now,” the Beast told her. “They’re all…still. All not moving, not talking. Furniture. Dead.”

“Oh, no…” Belle said, horrified. “Mrs. Potts…”

“Can you turn them back, too?”

Rosalind’s lips thinned as she thought.

“No,” she finally said. “I only have enough magic left to undo part of the curse. If I release
you
from it, there will be nothing left to help them with.”

The Beast looked deep into Belle’s eyes as he asked a second question.

“If you don’t…turn me back, can you help them? All of them?”

“Probably,” Rosalind answered promptly.

Belle felt the icy, ancient fingers of cold reality settling on her shoulders.

She nodded, almost imperceptibly. Only the Beast saw.

“Then…that’s what I would rather you do.” The Beast put his giant paws on Belle’s shoulders and gripped her strongly. “Save my people. They were innocent when they were cursed, and still looked after the castle and me all these years. They deserve to be free.”

And then he pulled Belle into his chest and hugged her as tightly as he dared. She let out one little, shuddering sob before relaxing into his embrace. Things were imperfect and terrible, but she felt safe. Somehow they would get through this.

“Oh,” Rosalind said, a little surprised. “All right. If that’s what you want.”

Despite the Beast’s desire to release the servants as soon as possible, the night was black and cold and treacherous and utterly unfit for travel, especially for Rosalind. The four made their way back to the village with everyone else and spent the night at their home—though they didn’t get to sleep until almost morning. Too many curious visitors wanted to visit the strangely human beast king, and too many others with slowly returning memories came to ask about things they thought they saw as children, or in the asylum…girls with hooves for feet, boys with dancing eyes and pointed ears.

Finally Maurice bade the last guest farewell and bolted the door behind him, and the little family—plus one—slept soundly together for the first time in years. When Belle woke in the middle of the night, she could see into her parents’ room by the light of the moon and stars. Maurice and Rosalind were entwined around each other.

She could hear the Beast snuffling in his sleep, curled up in front of the fire like a dog—but with a pillow under his head and an old blanket thrown over his wide shoulders. Before succumbing once again to sleep, Belle reveled, a little, in the coziness and completeness of her home.

When the sun rose and it was warm enough, the four set off with Phillipe pulling a sleigh borrowed from someone in town.

Rosalind sat bundled in as many coats and blankets as they could find but still shivered most of the way in her weakened state. Maurice sat by her and Belle rode the poor horse—who was occasionally given a break by the very strong beast, who pulled silently and with no complaint.

The sun was high when they finally arrived, sparkling on the snow which was melting just a little bit in the warmest places. The castle was covered in drips and drops, both from icicles and the strange webs, the strands dissolving and disappearing like they had never been.

“Huh. Not bad,” Rosalind said of her own handiwork.

“
Maman
, I was trapped there,” Belle pointed out gently. “And so were all those poor people.”

Her mother’s face fell as she remembered the consequences of what she had done.

When they stepped inside, it was like Belle’s first time: cold and black. But because she was expecting the little creatures to come forward and greet her, it seemed even bleaker and lonelier. When they got to the kitchen, Belle took one look at the sad little tableau of candelabrum, teapot, and clock and nearly burst into tears.

“They seemed so lifelike before…” Maurice said in wonder.

Rosalind was obviously quite exhausted from their journey and just beginning to warm up. She didn’t hesitate or protest, however; she just kept a look of grim determination on her face and began to chant.

Belle watched her in wonder. Rosalind was complicated…not a particularly nice or compassionate person, but certainly brave and willing to do whatever needed to be done once she decided a particular route was correct. What did that make her? Not, exactly, a good person. Misguided? Uninformed? A power that should have been tempered?

This is the mother that I found. Not the mother I imagined.

A strange smell filled the air…fresh pine and spring; not the brittle needles of solstice or Christmas, but the soft and bright green twigs of March.

Very much like something waking from a frozen hibernation, the clock on the table stretched and yawned and continued stretching. It continued filling out into a fat little man with a mustache who balanced awkwardly on the table. He was a little pale, but otherwise healthy and alive.

“Good…good heavens!” Cogsworth said, looking at his hand and spreading his fingers. “I’m…me again! But the curse…?”

He leapt off the table and saw the Beast and Belle, instantly divining that something wasn’t quite right.

“It’s a long story,” Belle said. “We can tell it later.”

“I await with eagerness,” Cogsworth said—perhaps a
trifle
dryly. As insouciant as the little butler ever got. The Beast managed a smile.

Next was Lumière, who turned out to be a rather handsome if long-nosed fellow. He immediately swept into a bow the moment he was able, and kissed Belle on both cheeks.

“
Ma chérie
…” he said with a grin. “I do not know exactly how this happy ending came about…but I knew you would be the one to bring it!” Then he caught a view of the Beast.

He shrugged. “Eh,
bien
, nobody’s perfect.”

Mrs. Potts was next and she was moving and twisting about before she had even finished becoming human.

“Upon my word!” she exclaimed. “Where’s my son? Chip! Do Chip next!”

Belle carefully opened the glass cabinet and brought out the little teacup and handed him to her. Within moments, Mrs. Potts had a squirmy, scrambling five-year-old in her arms who was almost too big to hold.

“Chip!” the housekeeper cried, and clasped him to her bosom. Watching her in human form, Belle realized she wasn’t actually that old at all; it was merely her mannerisms and speech that made her seem so. “We’re ourselves again! Oh, Charles…”

The Beast and Belle exchanged smiles. If he had harbored any remaining doubts about his decision, they were long, long gone.

Rosalind’s magic held out through the very last servant…the obnoxious dustmaid, who turned out to be an equally obnoxious human maid. Any interest Lumière had in her was over, ever since her declaration against
les charmantes.