by Barbara Becc
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?”