[Fiction] - A Week's Wait
Well, I'm on a roll. Except when I set out to try to get another prompt from my "fairies" list, I completely ended up deviating from the prompts. Nevermind, I found a few prompts from other categories, at least.
I kinda like this, much more so than Yelizaveta (which I've now titled "A Forest Chill"). But I suppose it's because this is somewhat a scenario of the "after" for my upcoming Nanowrimo story. Not exactly an epilogue, but it definitely gets away from Beauty's point of view.
And yeah, it's a Beauty and the Beast retelling. Except I'm tired of Beauty. So it isn't really about her so much now.
A Week's Wait
He watched the horse gallop, increasing the distance between the castle gate and the rider as it sped into enchanted woods. Even after the rider was long gone, the castle’s master stared at darkness, imagining, no, knowing the flutter of her cape and her hair, let wildly loose in agitation.
Beast, how I would so love to see my family again.
Those earnest eyes had pleaded with him for days on end; but he had not succumbed. He was strong; he could not let go. Not now.
Beast, my father is ill! He needs me. Oh, please let me tend to him.
These cries brought up images of his own father; the strong, military hero who rose into the noble ranks. The proud man had died of the plague, with his family too far away to have hurried to his side. The only comfort was the cool caresses of the general’s ward, a Halfling girl. His father had been ill, and he had had no chance of preventing or aiding him.
I promise to remain in the castle for all time. Beast, if you’ll only let me see him and the rest of my family once more.
It was inevitable. His distant past collided with the present, and he relented, even so much as filled her packs and helped her alight on the horse. He had to let her father see her for one last time. She promised she would return and stay forever, or however long her life would be. He had to release her. He had to give her the choice to stay out. If she was not the girl to break the enchantment, he would rather die anyway.
Nothing stirred outside. Even the chilly mist that bordered the castle and spread into the forest remained at a standstill. The enchanted servants had stayed away, knowing their master’s mood well enough to remain hidden from his gaze. But even they were silent, because they also knew that Beauty had been their master’s only hope. Their only hope.
But the Beast was not alone in his room.
“You were so close,” a light, crackly voice permeated through the room, the tense air dissipating around it. “If you had only resisted this last week.”
He shut his eyes. He knew who had come, but he could not turn around to face her. Not just yet.
“Centuries of waiting, and not once have you returned to reverse your curse,” he accused, though his voice was already giving way to resignation. He knew why she couldn’t come back to him. He had been young and angry. Impulsive. Like the crazed missionaries of his time, he purged the land of the heretical entities. The witches, the sorcerers. Even his father’s Halfling ward had to flee for her life.
Yet she stood there now. The enchantress who did this to him.
“I’m not exactly in the business of reversing curses,” she replied. He could hear her settle down comfortably on his armchair, situated just beside the window, facing away from the fragile glass. “Besides, it’s taken you a ghastly amount of centuries to stop raging about like you usually do. Was this her doing?”
He looked at the sorceress. Their gazes held for a long few seconds, and he turned away again, shuffling his feet. “You’ve gotten older.”
She laughed. “Force of habit. I happen to like looking my age, even if it means repulsing others. I could change my form back to the one you saw last, if you’d like.”
The Beast shrugged. “It doesn’t matter.”
“You’re right, it doesn’t,” she answered coolly, head tilted upwards to watch the monster’s face. “She could have broken my spell.”
“She will return to do so.”
“She might not.”
“Then I will die, as you have willed it.”
“Pity it’s taken you centuries to realize this.”
A slight flash of anger emerged from his eyes, and he swiveled towards the enchantress. “Haven’t you had enough gloating over my suffering?”
Immediately, he regretted the outburst. The cold smile on her face was proof enough that she had been baiting him all this time. But while her eyes laughed at him, no sound of mirth came from her mouth.
“Well, well, there’s still a bit of you left in there after all.”
He walked away from her, making his way to the fireplace instead. “Just leave me be. You’ve done enough.”
The silence that followed would have relieved him, but he knew better than to assume she’d gone.
“You think you were the only one suffering, do you?” she finally asked, breaking that heavy lull.
He didn’t think it. He knew he hadn’t been the only one. Knew the moment she had returned that the enchantress had been paying for her curse for as long as he had been in one. She had to live with the guilt of her actions, and she’d returned to ask for forgiveness. She wanted mercy from the last surviving member of the family that took her in.
But he couldn’t forgive her. Not now. She had abandoned him. And she had abandoned his world. Instead, he shook his head to answer her unasked question. “It’s late for that, Katya. Perhaps it is better that we burn for what we have done.”
The enchantress stirred. It had been a lost cause, and she knew it. The window beside her was beginning to fog, and she used her sleeve to clean it. The forest outside loomed in front of her, and she blew a single breath. Mist eased out and began to disappear. Soon the area was clear.
“Nobody is burning,” she finally replied to him. “In seven days, she will break your curse.”
“And if she doesn’t?” he knew better than to hope. Hoping tends to disappear after centuries of disappointment after stacking disappointment.
The enchantress smiled at him, this time her eyes were kind and gentle. “Then you’ll be free.”
The Beast wasn’t sure how she managed to disappear in front of him without causing a commotion. But he wasn’t surprised at the abrupt exit. Nor was he surprised over the fresh roses placed on the window sill, ruby red and gleaming with magic.
You’ll be back at the end of the week, Beauty?
At the end of the week, Beast. I promise.
After living for almost an eternity, what was seven days to him anyway?
So he waited.
And so did she.
I kinda like this, much more so than Yelizaveta (which I've now titled "A Forest Chill"). But I suppose it's because this is somewhat a scenario of the "after" for my upcoming Nanowrimo story. Not exactly an epilogue, but it definitely gets away from Beauty's point of view.
And yeah, it's a Beauty and the Beast retelling. Except I'm tired of Beauty. So it isn't really about her so much now.
A Week's Wait
He watched the horse gallop, increasing the distance between the castle gate and the rider as it sped into enchanted woods. Even after the rider was long gone, the castle’s master stared at darkness, imagining, no, knowing the flutter of her cape and her hair, let wildly loose in agitation.
Beast, how I would so love to see my family again.
Those earnest eyes had pleaded with him for days on end; but he had not succumbed. He was strong; he could not let go. Not now.
Beast, my father is ill! He needs me. Oh, please let me tend to him.
These cries brought up images of his own father; the strong, military hero who rose into the noble ranks. The proud man had died of the plague, with his family too far away to have hurried to his side. The only comfort was the cool caresses of the general’s ward, a Halfling girl. His father had been ill, and he had had no chance of preventing or aiding him.
I promise to remain in the castle for all time. Beast, if you’ll only let me see him and the rest of my family once more.
It was inevitable. His distant past collided with the present, and he relented, even so much as filled her packs and helped her alight on the horse. He had to let her father see her for one last time. She promised she would return and stay forever, or however long her life would be. He had to release her. He had to give her the choice to stay out. If she was not the girl to break the enchantment, he would rather die anyway.
Nothing stirred outside. Even the chilly mist that bordered the castle and spread into the forest remained at a standstill. The enchanted servants had stayed away, knowing their master’s mood well enough to remain hidden from his gaze. But even they were silent, because they also knew that Beauty had been their master’s only hope. Their only hope.
But the Beast was not alone in his room.
“You were so close,” a light, crackly voice permeated through the room, the tense air dissipating around it. “If you had only resisted this last week.”
He shut his eyes. He knew who had come, but he could not turn around to face her. Not just yet.
“Centuries of waiting, and not once have you returned to reverse your curse,” he accused, though his voice was already giving way to resignation. He knew why she couldn’t come back to him. He had been young and angry. Impulsive. Like the crazed missionaries of his time, he purged the land of the heretical entities. The witches, the sorcerers. Even his father’s Halfling ward had to flee for her life.
Yet she stood there now. The enchantress who did this to him.
“I’m not exactly in the business of reversing curses,” she replied. He could hear her settle down comfortably on his armchair, situated just beside the window, facing away from the fragile glass. “Besides, it’s taken you a ghastly amount of centuries to stop raging about like you usually do. Was this her doing?”
He looked at the sorceress. Their gazes held for a long few seconds, and he turned away again, shuffling his feet. “You’ve gotten older.”
She laughed. “Force of habit. I happen to like looking my age, even if it means repulsing others. I could change my form back to the one you saw last, if you’d like.”
The Beast shrugged. “It doesn’t matter.”
“You’re right, it doesn’t,” she answered coolly, head tilted upwards to watch the monster’s face. “She could have broken my spell.”
“She will return to do so.”
“She might not.”
“Then I will die, as you have willed it.”
“Pity it’s taken you centuries to realize this.”
A slight flash of anger emerged from his eyes, and he swiveled towards the enchantress. “Haven’t you had enough gloating over my suffering?”
Immediately, he regretted the outburst. The cold smile on her face was proof enough that she had been baiting him all this time. But while her eyes laughed at him, no sound of mirth came from her mouth.
“Well, well, there’s still a bit of you left in there after all.”
He walked away from her, making his way to the fireplace instead. “Just leave me be. You’ve done enough.”
The silence that followed would have relieved him, but he knew better than to assume she’d gone.
“You think you were the only one suffering, do you?” she finally asked, breaking that heavy lull.
He didn’t think it. He knew he hadn’t been the only one. Knew the moment she had returned that the enchantress had been paying for her curse for as long as he had been in one. She had to live with the guilt of her actions, and she’d returned to ask for forgiveness. She wanted mercy from the last surviving member of the family that took her in.
But he couldn’t forgive her. Not now. She had abandoned him. And she had abandoned his world. Instead, he shook his head to answer her unasked question. “It’s late for that, Katya. Perhaps it is better that we burn for what we have done.”
The enchantress stirred. It had been a lost cause, and she knew it. The window beside her was beginning to fog, and she used her sleeve to clean it. The forest outside loomed in front of her, and she blew a single breath. Mist eased out and began to disappear. Soon the area was clear.
“Nobody is burning,” she finally replied to him. “In seven days, she will break your curse.”
“And if she doesn’t?” he knew better than to hope. Hoping tends to disappear after centuries of disappointment after stacking disappointment.
The enchantress smiled at him, this time her eyes were kind and gentle. “Then you’ll be free.”
The Beast wasn’t sure how she managed to disappear in front of him without causing a commotion. But he wasn’t surprised at the abrupt exit. Nor was he surprised over the fresh roses placed on the window sill, ruby red and gleaming with magic.
You’ll be back at the end of the week, Beauty?
At the end of the week, Beast. I promise.
After living for almost an eternity, what was seven days to him anyway?
So he waited.
And so did she.