Tales after Dusk 02

"What happened to you?" He says quietly.

She looks up at the painting of herself, "Despite the beauty I had on the outside, I was a horrible person within. One day, I hurt a man—I," she clears her throat, "I killed him. With his last breath, he made my outsides as ugly as I was inside." She flicks her wrist; the sheet flies up the wall, covering the painting once more, "He did that so that no one else would fall prey to my deceitful ways and none have. The only company I can get," she laughs cruelly at herself, "is company I have to imprison."

Sev rises to his feet, walking towards her. He takes her hands into his, "You are not the same person you were," he says softly.

"No, I am not. Now I am uglier, outside and in."

He cradles her face in his hand, "No, you are not," Sev leans forward; this time he closes the gap so quickly that their lips connect. His heart pounds as he gasps for air against her, not wanting to let go of the moment. Now, he knows. He is sure. One hand slides behind her neck, the other around her waist to draw her in closer to him as he deepens the kiss. Belle trembles against him, seeming to melt at his touch. She forces herself to pull away.

"You are too kind to try to amuse me, Sev. There is no way you can possibly even like me after I took you away from your family."

He continues to hold her hand, trying to catch her eyes as she avoids him, "I do like you, Belle. You are a good person, a truly amazing person. Yes, I wish I could see my family but I made a promise to remain here with you and I don't hold a grudge against you for it."

She pulls completely away from his touch, slowly wiping her hands down the length of her night gown as if to press herself back together. She wanders across the room, her hand drifting along the dust on the small vanity desk next to her bed, "What if I told you there was a way..." Lifting up a small hand mirror, she blows the dust off of it before returning to him, holding it out in both hands.

He takes it, eyeing her, "What is this?"

Still avoiding his eyes, she replies, "It will show you whatever you wish."

He looks down at the simple object in his hands. Hesitantly, he says, "I'd like to see my family...please."

The edges of the mirror glow a soft green; slowly, his reflection turns into that of his Mother, as if he were looking at her through a window. She coughs painfully, eyes clenched closed. Thomas dabs her forehead with a wet rag, concerned look on his face.

Sev hides his shock well, not letting his expression show the sickness in his heart; though he feels the urge to turn and run to his Mother, hurry home and take care of her, he turns the mirror upside down and sets it on the bed. He looks up at Belle—the confusion on her face is clear. Never the less, he slides his arm around her waist, drawing her close, "Thank you," he whispers as he presses his lips against hers once more.

Her hard exterior softened over their time together, Belle relaxes into him, yearning for his affections. Sev hastily reaches to the bed behind him and drags the white, dust covered sheet off of it, exposing the lush, red velvet blanket beneath. When he turns and tilts her down onto it, she breaks from his kiss, doing her best not to look him in the eye as he climbs up and hovers over her, "Sev," she says softly, "you do not want this. You do not want me."

He ignores her attempts to push him away and forces her to look into his eyes, "Yes, Belle, I do." With gentle kisses on her neck, his hand cautiously drifts down her side, fingers slowly tracing the swirls of her skin when they slide underneath her night gown. Her breathing is uneven, her shaking hands pull his shirt off so that they can press against his warm, smooth skin. They wander down his slender frame, tentatively tracing the waist of his pants before tugging at the buttons.

Leaning down to her mouth, he covers it with his; Sev pushes his pants slightly down with one hand, fishing his engorged length out with the other. He presses against her body, angling the tip of his manhood to her moist opening; he pulls back, gazing into her milky eyes as he eases into her. She bites down on a pale lip, wincing when her maidenhood gives way. He doesn't want to hurt her, but his body responds to the forbidden feeling of his entry. He tentatively pushes further in, cradling her face with both of his hands. When she tips her chin up and mashes her lips into his, his body trembles.

Thrusting steadily, intently, he holds her close to him. She quivers against his skin, her eyes fluttering shut when her arms squeeze tightly around his neck. He feels her entire body tense before her back arches, her womanhood pulsing down on him; unable to refrain, he slides deep into her, feeling his body release in a wave of pleasure. His arms straining under his weight; he rolls over to his side, holding her close, his fingers tracing the raised patterns on her back before they drift off to sleep.

...

Sev wakes with a splitting headache, which only gets worse after he sits up. The sun has risen and hangs lazily to one side of the sky; he has slept almost all of the day. Painfully, he climbs out of bed, walking over to the balcony in his room for some fresh air. As he leans his hands against the railing, breathing in deeply, he sees Belle, fully cloaked, standing in the garden before the magnolia tree. She kneels down to the moat, almost as if in prayer. The moat is so thick with flowers that it looks like a blanket; the tree, itself, only has one bloom remaining on it.

Slowly he gets dressed, trying not to move too fast to avoid the pounding in his head. Last night—what he remembers doesn't exactly add up in his mind and he wants to ask Belle some questions.

He makes his way downstairs, finding her standing in the hallway with her cloak still on, hood drawn up.

"Morning—err, well, afternoon," he says softly to her, only to get a nod in response. Slowly, he walks closer, "Listen, last night—did I really—"

She shifts awkwardly, "Yes, well you were drunk. People tend to do stupid things when they are drunk," her voice is slightly hurt.

He closes the gap between them, grabbing her hand and forcing her to look at the concern on his face, "No—no, that isn't what I meant. Last night, did I really see my Mother through a mirror, or was I imagining it?"

She looks up at him, seeing the sincerity in his eyes, "Yes," she says softly, "she is sick. She has the fever."

"Ah," he says, unable to hide the concern on his face. He tries to offer her a reassuring smile, "Belle, I meant everything that I did last night. I wasn't trying to amuse you. You are a great friend," he starts to say but isn't sure how to tell her how he feels like she is more than just a friend.

His poor choice of stopping points causes the only words he spoke aloud to cut her deeply. She pulls her hands from his and turns, walking out the door. Sev grabs a cloak, throwing it over his shoulders as he hurries to follow her, afraid that he hurt her feelings. He finds her standing outside, holding a basket of herbs in one hand, the reins of his horse in another. She can't look into his eyes.

"You should go to her. She is not well—I do not think she will last the night without medicine," Belle holds out the basket to him.

Sev takes it gratefully; he places his free hand on her cheek, a soft kiss on her forehead, "Thank you, Belle, for understanding." Sev tries to say more but the words don't come. He looks into her eyes, hoping that she really does understand how much she means to him and that he will come back to her.

Quickly he mounts the horse, spurring it forward; with his dying Mother on his mind, he doesn't remember to look back.

...

Sev bursts through the front door but no one but his Mother is home when he arrives. He checks, relieved that she is still breathing, before he stokes the fire. Setting the basket on the table, he removes each bundle of herbs one at a time until they are all out. To his sadness, he finds the hand mirror at the bottom of the basket.

Sev quickly prepares the tea, cooling it a little before taking it to his Mother. She is too weak to open her eyes despite his cooing and though she doesn't even wake he is able to slowly pour the drink down her throat. He rests his forehead against her hand, hoping that she will wake soon.

As he waits, he finds his mind wandering back to Belle. She has changed so drastically, becoming a kind and caring person in such a small amount of time; he is surprised to find out how deep of an emotional attachment he has to her. He wonders how he could work things out—perhaps, when he returns to her she would see that he truly cares. Surely she wouldn't mind sharing her life with him. Her scars don't bother him, because he can see the true beauty she has within.

Time is slow to pass but he gets a few more glasses of tea down his Mother every half hour. As the sun begins to set, he checks in on her to find that she has awakened. "Sevan? Are you real, or am I dead?" She says, frightened.

He takes her hand in his, "No, Mother, you are alive and I am real. I am so glad you are awake."

"How ever did you escape that horrible, beastly witch?" She says, brow crinkled. "She isn't horrible, Mother," he smiles softly, "I was wrong, so wrong. She is a good person inside, truly she is."

Before they can talk any more, the front door opens. Thomas and Jacques stomp in, covered in snow, quickly shutting it behind them. They rush to check on their Mother, shocked to discover that not only is she awake and getting better but that Sev is back.

"Where have you been brother?" Thomas says, hugging him tight.

"Yes, Mother wouldn't tell us what happened. We all thought you had perished," Jacques says, slapping him on the back but the forced smile on his face suggests something else.

The three brothers sit with their Mother while she drinks another cup of tea; finally, they insist that she lie back and rest. It isn't long after her head hits the pillows that she is asleep. They follow Sev out into the main room.

"Where the hell were you!" Jacques growls angrily, "We looked everywhere!"

Thomas sits down on the bench, "When Mother got back, she wouldn't tell us anything. She just cried every night. After she got the fever—she would talk in her sleep, scream and cry about some castle and a beast."

Sev sits down next to Thomas, "It wasn't a castle, more like a mansion." Seeing the terrified looks on their faces makes Sev hope beyond hope that they aren't as small minded as the rest of the village, "Look, it isn't what it seems. Mother went into this garden and stole herbs to make you better. The woman whose garden it was locked her in the cellar for stealing—I stumbled across the house and offered to switch places with Mother so that she could return home with the herbs to cure you," he says softly to Thomas.

"So she is a witch," Jacques states.

"What—no, not a witch, more like...well she is cursed," he tries to explain.

His older brother shakes his head, "No, she's a witch. No one but the devil himself can have a garden in the winter—does she have food? If we kill her—"

Sev rises to his feet, unable to believe his brother, "She is not a witch. I can't believe you would even suggest murdering someone you don't know—for what, food? You are no better than the pharmacist!"

Jacques gives his brother a nasty look, standing up, "Says the man who now has meat on his bones and fine clothes." He walks to the fireplace to stare into the flames.

"I can't believe that man is my blood," Sev says under his breath to Thomas.

He shrugs, "Well, she does sound like a witch."

"She is not a witch," he reiterates to his younger brother, "she is my friend. She is a good person."

Thomas offers a smile, squeezing his brother's shoulder, "If you say she is, then she must be. I'll talk to him, okay?"

The two brothers wander off to Jacques' room at the back of the small house. Sev runs his fingers through his hair, unable to believe that after all he has been through, his own flesh and blood would seek vengeance against a stranger. He begins to pace, trying to come up with a plan, when there is a scratching sound on the door, followed by a "Meow."

Sev opens it, finding Cat outside. He scurries inside, rubbing up against Sev's leg, "Meow, meow, meow."

"What are you doing here, Cat?" He whispers.

Cat looks around to make sure they are alone. He hops up onto the table next to the basket; when Sev sits down, the cat speaks softly but quickly, "Why did you leave? You have to come back at once!"

"She let me go—my Mother is sick."

Cat shakes his head, pawing at the basket, "No, you have to come back. Look into the mirror."

Sev opens the basket, pulling the small mirror out and setting it on the table. The cat paws at it, "Show me my mistress."

Glowing a soft green, the mirror reveals Belle, fully cloaked and resting on her knees in front of the magnolia tree. She looks up at the last remaining bloom.

"When that flower falls, she will die," the cat says, worry in his voice.

"What do you mean?" Sev says urgently.

"The wizard's curse; if she is unable to find someone who will love her for who she is by her twenty ninth year, her heart will stop without ever knowing true love. Each blossom on that tree represents a day gone by—and the last blossom will fall tonight. I understand if you don't love her like that but we can't let her die alone. She needs a friend."

Shocked, he stares at the cat. They hear a noise coming from the hallway—the cat jumps off of the table and hides underneath. He turns the mirror over just as Jacques walks back into the room.

Sev gathers up the herbs to prepare another batch of tea for his Mother; just as he adds them to the pot over the fire and turns around, he sees Jacques with the mirror in his hand.

"What sort of trickery is this?" His nose crinkles when he sees Belle in the mirror, "Such a hideous beast—is this the witch?"

"Give that back," he walks to his brother trying to get the mirror away but Jacques easily shoves him aside.

"You don't—have feelings for her, do you? After what she did to our Mother? To you?"

"You don't know Belle like I do," Sev tries again to get the mirror back, "I must go to her tonight. Please, I need the mirror."

Jacques expression changes from disgust to horror, "She has bewitched you." The wicked sneer on his lips suggests that he might not even believe his own statement or even care.

"No, she hasn't, you're being obtuse," he gets the mirror back from his brother, holding it carefully in his hand.

"I'm sorry, Sev," Jacques says softly.

Sev looks up to his brother just in time to see his fist coming at him before everything gets dark.

...

When Sev opens his eyes, he sees Thomas hovering over him, the black cat on his chest, "What happened?"

"That ass knocked you out," Cat says.

Wide eyed, Thomas jumps back, "Impossible!"

Sev sits up, putting his hand on his spinning head, "The cat is not evil. Thomas, for once in your life, you need to trust me, do you understand?"

Thomas looks at the cat to his brother, to the cat again. Though the hesitation in his face is evident, he slowly nods a yes.

"Where did he go?" Sev says to the cat.

Cat stares at Thomas while talking, as if trying to freak him out, "He took the mirror and your horse. He is going to kill her because he thinks that mistress cast a spell on you."

Sev stands up, holding the cat in his arms. He speaks quickly to his still shocked brother, "Take care of Mother. Do not talk to anyone about this until I get back—do you understand?"

Slowly, he nods again.

Sev rushes outside; he is barely able to see the outline of Belle's black steed across the small road. Quickly, he mounts and rides as fast as he can through the forest.

Just inside the gate, the weather is colder and rainier than usual; he finds their brown horse munching on the grass. Letting the cat down, the pair run as fast as possible to the house.

It seems oddly empty; no fire springs up when they enter, no curious logs peek out at them as the fly up the stairs. It is as if all of the magic is gone. Sev's heart pounds in his throat as he runs to the room at the end of the hall, sickened to see the door open. He crashes inside, seeing Jacques on the balcony. His arm is stretched out, hand wrapped around Belle's throat, precariously tipping her over the railing.

"Jacques, stop!" Sev screams, frantically looking at Belle. She makes no effort to save herself.

"It is all right little brother; don't you see, no one could love such an ugly creature, such a terrifying beast. As soon as I kill this witch you will be free," his eyes are wild with excitement.

He begins to run forward but Belle raises her arm—the nearest post of the bed bends down, wrapping around Sev's waist to stop him.

"What are you doing?" He shouts at her.

Tears form in her eyes, her arm dropping; her voice is strained, sad, "It is too late, Sevan. Your brother is right, I am a witch. I have tricked you, I deserve to die."

"Stop, you are lying," he says as he struggles against the bed post. He watches in horror as Jacques shoves her over the edge.

Immediately, he is free. He runs to the balcony, looking over just in time to see her hit the ground, limbs bent awkwardly. His heart catches in his throat. He turns to his brother and punches him as hard as he can, "What did you do! She is not a witch!"

Jacques eyes show his true blood thirsty nature, "You do not understand—she is still alive," he grabs his brother by the shoulders and shakes him, "I will kill that beast. You cannot stop me." He rushes out of the room. Sev looks over the edge, seeing the distant shadow of Belle dragging herself towards the garden.

Sev crashes through the house after his brother; running into the yard, he sees him at the front gate with a rope. He watches his brother tie a noose, walking outside of the gate so that he can throw it over the entrance.

"You fool—I will not let you kill her," he screams. Sev picks up a branch, prepared to attack his brother.

Jacques swings the noose in his hand a few times, throwing it up and over the entryway. He gives the rope some slack before walking further into the snow covered woods to tie it to a tree. A dark throaty laugh comes from him, "I will take her from you, just as you took Clare from me."

Sev stops, seeing the all too familiar yellow eyes of the wolves as they close in on his brother. He opens his mouth but nothing comes out. A wolf lunges, tackling Jacques down to the ground. As several more close in, blood curdling screams come from his brother. Though part of him wants to help, it isn't a big enough part to out rule the part that believe that Jacques got what he deserved. He drops the branch and leaves him to his death.

He can't find Belle behind the house—he runs, frantically searching the garden, until the soft glow of the magnolia tree catches his eye. Quickly, he makes his way over, seeing a dark figure hunched underneath.

Sev wades through the moat, crawling up next to Belle. Her smoky eyes watch him sadly.

"Why didn't you protect yourself?" He chastises her, pulling her up into his arms.

She grimaces but thankfully rests her head on his chest, "It makes no difference. Your brother is right—no one in their right mind could love me. I must have bewitched you. Maybe, maybe it is better this way," she says, coughing painfully.

"No, don't say that," Sev cradles her face. Slowly, he leans forward and presses his trembling lips to hers. She doesn't return the kiss. He pulls back to find that she has gone.

Tears sting is eyes as he clutches the woman to his chest. He looks up at the last remaining magnolia as it begins to fall, "No, this isn't right. I love you," he whispers. As it lands in the moat with a pink flash, their glow is gone. Sev continues to hold her tight, watching, to his sorrow, snow begin to fall in the garden, as the enchantment has disappeared. He buries his face into her neck, murmuring over and over, "Please, come back Belle, I love you."