One more down
Apr. 7th, 2004 03:14 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
maderrFinally finished this story, and ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
skylark97 I should be able to finish Rumpelstiltskin after I get off work tonight.
"You did what?! Father, how could you! Are you stupid?"
The elderly man stared miserably at the scratched and worn floor of their small cottage home, shuffling his feet as his son continued to loudly berate him. "Beau…" he attempted a small protest, but his son didn't hear him.
"Why didn't you wait until I got back? You gave her away to whom? Why? Please tell me you're joking!" Beau continued to howl and shout, never noticing as his father grew more and more unhappy in front of him. At last he gave up and sighed heavily, dropping heavily into one of the rickety chair around their small table. "Explain it to me again."
The old man took a breath and, steeling himself for more shouting, once more explained what had happened to his son, "Your sister wanted some rosemary for her garden…I could find none while I was out bartering…but on the journey home I became lost in the woods."
"Again" his son muttered shortly.
Coughing the old man continued his story, "I became lost, and stumbled across a massive castle…I've never seen anything like it Beau. As if there were a lord or prince there that everyone has forgotten about. I never knew such a place existed anywhere out here. We're so far from the other cities and--"
"On with the story, if you please father." Tiredly Beau buried his head in one hand, fingers tangling in his red-brown hair.
"Of course. I'm sorry, Beau. The front yard - it was massive - was filled with rosemary. Everywhere green things could grow, it was filled with rosemary. Unlike any rosemary I've ever seen." He paused, his face lighting up as he suddenly recalled something and shuffled over to the worn out satchel lying on the table beside his son. Fumbling around for a moment, he finally withdrew a delicate sprig of rosemary, the leaves as bright and glittering as emeralds, the flowers pure enough in color to rival amethysts. Though it had been stowed carelessly away in the bag, it seemed unaffected. It was as if it were made of glass or stone, yet a single touch revealed it to be very real indeed. "See? Isn't it amazing? So I picked some - just two bits like this. Your sister is such a gardener, I did not thing she would require more than that."
He fell into a tense silence, knowing his volatile son would not like the next stage of his story. "A man suddenly appeared as I was leaving…he was upset that I had dared to disturb his valuable collection of flowers." The man took a deep breath to steady his voice, "He demanded to know what I was doing, and when I explained that they were for your sister he seemed intrigued. He agreed to let me take my two and more besides, if I would but agree to let him meet the woman that loved rosemary enough to ask for it rather than for silks and jewels and other silly things."
'And you agreed because…." Beau's face was a mixture of disbelief and accusation.
His father shifted uncomfortably, "He seemed harmless and friendly - and I did steal his flowers after all. It seemed a minor thing to let him meet her, and your sister seemed rather taken by the idea. It was a harmless lark, I thought."
"So now he's got her locked up in this palace you keep yammering on about, and you can't remember where exactly it is? You're a fool!"
Still clutching the rosemary tightly in one hand, the old man frowned deeply in thought. The scent of the flower drifted through the cottage, mixing with the smells of the burning wood in the fireplace and the stew that cooked above the hot flames. "Wait…I remember…an old path deep in the woods, not far from where it turns to head toward the city. It's faded, barely visible…it winds and winds through the trees, you can see that at one point it must have been much wider and frequently used."
Beau stared at his father uncertainly, not sure what to make of the odd expression on the man's face. "Father? Are you certain? A moment ago you had no idea. And I've been that way hundreds of times; never have I seen such a path."
The old man shook himself free of the strange haze that had descended over him. "I am sure." He said firmly.
His son surged to his feet, expression determined. "Then I’m going to go get her back. Who ever heard of something as stupid as trading a girl for a stupid flower?" Continuing to grumble, he snatched the rosemary from his father and then rapidly retrieved the travel gear he had only just discarded. A battered satchel similar to the one on the table was slung over one arm and across his chest, a smaller bag fastened to his belt, and a torn and ragged cloak wrapped around his body. With barely a nod goodbye, Beau departed.
Early evening had descended, shadows slowly growing longer as he walked briskly down the beaten path leading to the village, and eventually on to the forest beyond it. As he drew closer to the village he grew visibly tense, shoulders tight and mouth thin as he allowed the hood of his old cloak to hide most of his features.
To no avail; no sooner had he entered the center of the small village than the whispers and jeers once more began.
"Oh, he's off again already."
"Another goose chase."
"Wonder what treasure he's seeking this time."
"Off to woo a princess, no doubt."
"With his looks? A scullery maid wouldn't fall for such a plain face, even if he had the money to make up for it."
"Hey Beast! Where are you going this time? Going to work for the king? Maybe you can be his clown!"
"To hell with you!" Beau snarled angrily. He turned away with a frustrated huff as laughter erupted amongst the small crowd from which the comment had emerged. Pulling back further into his hood, he increased his pace to a near run until he arrived at last at the edge of town - and the beginning of the forest.
An hour into his walk, he finally released a pent up sigh and threw back his hood. Gazing up through the trees at the shreds of star and moon visible through them, he let out a slower, more relaxed breath. He continued to walk at a slower pace, relying on familiarity and moonlight to guide his way.
Another hour passed, until he finally reached the bend in the road that indicated one was halfway to the city. He slowed to a stop, examining the surrounding forest. There was nothing…but no….how had he never noticed it before? There in the trees - a trace of a path. As his father had said, it was barely visible - only his father would manage to get completely and utterly lost following a trail he had no business being on in the first place.
He hesitated, torn for a moment between moving on and stopping for the night. But his sister was waiting for him to rescue her. He moved on, fighting his way past old trees and tangled vines, along the old path with only moonlight to help him. Mutters and curses filled the night air, mingling with those of the nocturnal animals wandering the woods.
At last the path seemed to widen and smooth out, the trees thinning as a monstrous building came into view. It was clearly a castle, the moon overhead giving it a dark, silver-gray tone. Even in darkness the building was impressive, and Beau lingered a moment to examine it. Finally he shook himself and ventured closer, frowning when he noticed that the entrance was unlocked, one massive iron gate hanging partially open. Slipping through, he raised his brow - the field surrounding the castle really was drowned in rosemary. Even in the dark there was no mistaking it - rosemary as far as the eye could see.
Continuing on toward the castle, he paused at the wide double doors. Tracing it lightly with his fingers he searched for a handle or some other means by which to open it. A servant's door would be easier, but in the dark one would be near impossible to find. At last giving up, the door had no means of access from the outside, he lifted his hand to the knocker and slammed it against the heavy oak three times. He waited.
Slowly the door creaked open, and a short man peered with wide eyes up at Beau, "Who are you?"
"I've come for my sister." Beau said shortly, immediately pushing past the man and stepping into the entrance hall. "Where is she?"
The servant said nothing, and Beau grew impatient. Grabbing the young man by his shirt and hauling him forward, he glared down with anger bright blue eyes. "Where's my sister?"
"D-dining room. To the left at the end of the hall."
Dropping the man to the floor, he called back as he walked away. "You'd better hope you had nothing to do with her kidnapping."
Surging down the hall and through the indicated door he sailed half blindly through three more chambers and had begun to think the servant had lied to him when he suddenly found himself in a massive dining hall, the ceiling far above them. His eyes immediately sought out and found his sister - who was staring back at him in stupefied amazement.
He stared back, equally shocked. He'd come to play hero and it seemed the damsel was rather far from distress. His sister was….more breathtaking than usual. Rather than her usual faded and patched dress, she was dressed in a gown the exact shade of her blue-violet eyes. Her mahogany hair was arranged in a tumble of curls that must have taken ages to arrange. She looked like the princess all the villagers said she should be. Beau's shoulders slumped slightly a moment before he resolutely squared them again. "I came to take you home, Anwen."
"Oh." She smiled sweetly at him, "I should have known you'd rush to my rescue the moment you got home. Connell, this is my brother Beau." She spoke to the man next to her, who nodded absently as he stared at his unexpected guest.
Beau stared back, growing even more disheartened in the matter of 'rescuing' his sister. If Anwen was a princess, the man fit the role of her dashing prince perfectly. He looked exactly like the ones in all of his sister's silly books - tall, dark, and as handsome as his sister was beautiful. Gray green eyes examined him in return, and Beau frowned in anger and old pain as an all too familiar expression flickered over the man's face, an expression that asked 'How can he possibly be related to them?' He hated it.
His expression darkened further, "What business do you have kidnapping my sister? And you!" He glared at Anwen, "I come all this way and you're eating dinner with him? What's wrong with you?"
"I kidnapped no one," the man spoke is a slow, deep voice. His fingers idly traced the rim of his wine glass as he stared at Beau. "Your sister chose to stay of her own free will, once she arrived."
Anwen nodded in agreement, "Yes. I admit it was a bit peculiar at first." She smiled reassuringly at her brother, "But everything was fine once I talked with Connell."
"Everything is fine?" Beau half shouted. "I-I don't believe you! Father is at home worried sick about you, I've not been able to rest in three days because I was anxious to get home and then to find you and now you're telling me everything is fine?” Losing patience completely he moved closer to the table, expression mutinous as he ventured toward his sister. "You're going home." He reached out to grasp her wrist and haul her up, growing more displeased as she stubbornly fought to remain where he was.
"Release her this instant." A strong hand fastened over Beau's arm and he turned to snarl angrily at the 'prince' who had risen from his seat. He released his sister and turned the full force of his anger on the dark haired stranger. "Get away! This is all your doing! If you hadn't terrorized my father, she wouldn't be caught in your dratted spells to begin with."
He leaped at the man, fists swinging. They never hit; a flash of pain was all Beau felt before his world went dark.
Connell looked in annoyance at the man slumped on the floor, "Is he always like this?"
Anwen laughed, the sound like bells. "Beau's protective, it's his most endearing quality. But it comes with his temper, which is his less charming trait. Still sort of cute though."
"Hn. I suppose I should let him stay?"
Anwen looked pleadingly at him, "If you don't mind too terribly? I'm sorry he intruded like that, I didn't expect him home so soon…I do feel bad about my father being worried."
"Don't." Connell said shortly as he moved to call for a servant. "He'll cease to worry soon enough. Everything will be fine when you return, I promise you."
"I know, I trust you." She watched as two servants came in, and after speaking with Connell began to slowly lift her brother to take from the room. "Be careful with him, please?" Anxiously she bit her lip, "He's going to be in an awful mood when he wakes up."
Connell grunted, "I'm still amazed he managed to find his way here."
Once again taking her seat to resume dinner, Anwen laughed lightly. "Beau's always had a knack for finding things - especially trouble."
"Yes, but the curse…"
Anwen shook her head, still amused. "Curse or no curse, if Beau is set on something he will eventually find it. I feel bad, he was so intent on rescuing me…ah well, once he wakes up I'll explain everything to him. Just watch, after a few days of ill temper he'll be begging to help."
*~*~*~*
"No way in hell."
"Come on Beau, now you're just sulking." Anwen's tone was scolding as she frowned at him. They were sitting on a bench in the gardens, where Beau had gone after yet another failed encounter during breakfast.
His fingers went up to rub the back of his head, still sore and bruised from where he'd been knocked unconscious the other day. He scowled, "It's not like I could do anything anyway, from what you say. Especially if he's not saying what's required to break the curse. Or anything else for that matter."
"Would you stop it already? It's not like you to be so stubborn."
"It's not like to up and leave home to play princess in a strange castle either. But here you are."
"I am not playing princess! He said I might be the one to help him break his curse, that's the only reason I'm here."
Beaus stared scathingly at his sister, especially at the blue silk dress and jewels adorning her throat. "Whatever. Good for you." He moved to leave.
"How dare you! You know me better than that, don't speak to your big sister that way! I would help anyone that asked, how dare you suggest otherwise! Now get back here and apologize to me at once."
Hanging his head, mostly in frustration, Beau ambled slowly back toward his furious sister. "Fine. I’m sorry. I know better - but you have to admit 'Wen that it's not so great from my point of view."
"Oh, please. Maybe you should think about things before rushing into them, like all your silly little adventures."
"They're not silly!" He dropped back down onto the bench, shoulders hunched defensively. "Anyway it's better than sitting at home and doing nothing. I've brought back some pretty cool stuff. And it's easier to feed two mouths than three…" the last was mostly mumbled.
Anwen punched him. "We'd rather have you home and eat a little less than always wonder where you are and what you're doing! If 'playing princess' is what it took to get you to stay for more than a day then I wish I'd done it a long time ago." She kicked lightly at the grass beneath their feet. "It won't kill you to stay, you're good at this sort of thing. Maybe he can't tell us much, but I bet you could figure it out anyway. Please, for me?" She clasped her hands and looked at him pleadingly.
"Aww…don't…" Beau groaned in defeat, "Okay, okay. Not like I had anything better to do anyway. But only if he wants my help, which I doubt."
"He says it can't hurt, and anyway this place is so empty it will be nice to have more people around." She sprung to her feet and dragged her brother up. "Now come on," she winked, "You can play dress up too."
"Oh no. No, no, no." Vehemently Beau shook his head and pulled free of her grasp, "It's one thing for you to put on those ridiculous clothes, but I'll just look more like a clown than ever. No thank you."
Dismay filled Anwen's face, "Beau! What have I told you? You're not…I thought you'd gotten over…"
"I'm fine." Beau turned away and walked quickly from the garden, ignoring his sister's pleas to stay.
He stalked blindly through the halls of the castle, head down as he lost himself in thought. Dress up? Him? Ha! Better to just figure out the curse and get back to reality. Hmm….a curse that kept him alone in his castle, save for about half a dozen servants…a massive castle that no one in the village had ever mentioned…and the rosemary, he'd bet anything the rosemary had something to do with it all. Plus there was Anwen…not enough to figure anything out. He'd have to speak to the blasted prince himself. Shaking off thoughts of the curse, he slowed his pace to take in his surroundings.
He'd wandered into a gallery of some sort. Too many portraits to count surrounded him, countless pairs of eyes staring back at him. Some were clearly relatives of his host, others spouses and perhaps friends. He paused as he came across one of the prince, looking very much as he had the two times Beau had so far encountered him. He stood with a beautiful woman, though not, Beau though, as beautiful as his sister. She and the prince nevertheless made an impressive couple…perhaps a wife? But no, because he was the same age in the portrait as he was currently. So it couldn't be very old.
"She was my betrothed. Rather, she was supposed to be." A deep voice spoke up from behind Beau, who started in surprise.
He whirled around to glare, "Do you always sneak up on people like that?"
Connell raised a brow, "It's no worse than picking fights with complete strangers in their own homes."
Beau snorted, "At least I don't demand people in exchange for a couple sprigs of rosemary."
"Let's not get into another argument, the past several have been plenty enough for me."
Though he looked like he'd rather say otherwise, Beau shut his mouth and stiffly nodded, reminding himself that he had agreed to help. "Does she have something to do with your curse?"
"Why would you think that?" Connell asked.
Beau shrugged, "There's something strange about - namely that it looks as if it could have been painted yesterday. Plus you speak in the past tense, and I've seen no sign that anyone besides you lives here."
"Your sister was right - you're rather good at this."
"I haven't done anything except point out the obvious. What does she have to do with the curse?"
Connell's mouth quirked, "She was the one that cast it. I'm afraid I succeeded in making her rather angry - she had every right to be - and in retribution she cast the curse that has kept me here for the past twelve years. I've not aged a day since the curse was cast."
"That explains the portrait. What did you do to warrant such retribution?"
"Warrant such retribution?" Connell repeated in amazement. "You're rather well spoken for a peasant."
Beau was dismissive, "Fancy words aren't so difficult to learn. With all the traveling I do, it might surprise you what I've learned."
"You travel frequently? For what purpose?"
"Because it's better than sitting at home and hoping that good fortune will come for a visit." Beau said shortly, avoiding the man's gaze as he replied.
"An interesting philosophy. Have you had any luck in tracking fortune down?"
Beau looked at him askance, "I'd say it's obvious that I haven't. But we get by."
"Why don't you just work in the village or something?"
"Why all the questions about my life?" Beau snapped, finally losing patience. "What does it matter? I just don't want to." Spinning sharply around, Beau stalked back the way he had originally come.
"You've got the same temper she had. Only difference being that I have no qualms about knocking sense into you."
Beau froze at his words, turning around to see that Connell was staring at the woman in the portrait. He glared at the man, "Try knocking sense into me again and you'll be the one out cold on the floor this time."
Connell smirked, "I doubt it, but you're welcome to try - only do it when your sister isn't around. She's starting to get upset with me."
"No worries, I've had enough of her howling for one day."
Another slow smirk, and Beau found himself anxiously looking away. "I assume you got a sound dressing down for this morning?"
Beau rolled his eyes, "I wish that was all it had been. Somehow she managed to snare me into actually helping you." He shot the man a dark look.
"I sincerely doubt either of you will be able to help me - though I deeply appreciate it." The man smiled sadly.
"I though that was your whole purpose in having my sister brought here?"
"Yes, that was my original purpose. But in the past few days I've come to realize that she is not the one to break it."
Beau's face clouded with outrage, "And what reason do you have for so easily discarding my sister."
Sighing heavily, and running a hand through his dark hair the other man indicated Beau should follow him as he turned to walk back the way he had come. Beau followed him, out of the gallery and down a long, sunlit hallway until at last they reached what turned out to be a music room. Connell cut through the center of the room, headed toward the wide glass doors and the balcony on the other side of them.
Throwing the doors open, he motioned Beau to follow him. Lifting an arm he pointed across the sprawling field to a small pond - and the couple seated on a bench beside it.
Beau narrowed his eyes, displeased at the lack of space between his sister and the man she was with - whom he recognized as the servant he had maltreated upon his arrival. "Just who the hell-"
"None of that," Connell said in a warning tone, "You won't meet a better man than Morgan. You may speak with him later if you like, though I imagine your sister will be thoroughly displeased with that."
"I don't care if she's displeased or not, if he wants to get that cozy with her he'll damn well speak with me." Fists clenched at his side, Beau turned to leave - but was held up by the hand that fastened on his arm. He glared up at Connell, "Let me go."
"Not if you're just going to race down there and interrupt them. That's not why I brought you here - I just wanted to show you why your sister won't be the one to break the curse."
"I don't get the connection. Why don't you try explaining?"
Connell shook his head, "I can not. The stipulations of the curse prevent me. But please trust me when I say that she will not be the one to break the curse."
"Not like I have a choice, really." Beau's gaze had strayed once again to his sister and her sudden suitor. Unconsciously his shoulders slumped, and with a defeated huff he turned away. "I realize I won't be able to break it either, but as we seem to have unintentionally stolen one of your servants the least I can do is help you figure out who can break it. Let me think a bit." With a wave he departed.
*~*~*~*
"I'm not wearing that." Beau folded his arms across his chest and glared at the offensive jacket and the man holding it. His hair was still wet from a recent bath, his shirt unlaced as the aggravating servant had interrupted him in the process of dressing.
Morgan frowned disapprovingly, "But you can't keep wearing the same things every day? And your sister selected this ensemble for you herself…"
"Want to bet?" Snorting beau snatched the clothes from the servant's hands and threw them into a corner of the room. "I'm not prancing around like some would be noble. And speaking of my sister," he once more folded his arms across his chest, "Why not explain to me what your intentions are."
The servant's eyes went wide with panic, flicking toward the door a moment before he squared his shoulders and decided to remain where he was. "My intentions are nothing but honorable; I wanted to speak with you but 'Wen said you would be difficult…"
"Che. I'm only difficult about the men in the village. They're all asses." He peered at the nervous servant, "But I've not noticed anything reprehensible about you thus far…you'll have to speak with my father at some point."
Morgan bobbed his head, "Yes, of course. We were thinking of leaving once you figure out the solution to the curse, as you told your sister you would."
"All right then. But if I see you've hurt her in any way, you'll not live long enough to regret it."
The servant smiled, "Of course. I'd not have it any other way."
Beau blinked, and then smiled back. "That will do then. But I'm still not wearing that ridiculous outfit, you can go and tell her that."
Resigned, Morgan gathered the clothes and laid them neatly across a chair before departing.
With a sigh Beau collapsed on the bed, hand behind his head as he stared up at the canopy. Gradually his eyes drifted shut, as he debated the merits of skipping dinner altogether. A knock at the door interrupted his impromptu nap. "If you've come about the clothes Anwen," he snapped as he heard the door open, "I've already told you I'm not going to wear them." Getting only silence in return he propped himself up on his elbows to glare at his sister.
Connell stared back, "I really don't understand this refusal of yours to wear anything but those rags." He strolled further into the room, examining the clothes set out on the chair. "Your sister went to the trouble of picking them out, the least you can do is wear them."
"What does it matter what I wear? And I'm not prancing around pretending to be fancy when I'm quite clearly not. It's ridiculous. There's no reason for me to wear that, so I'm not going to." Shoving up, Beau sat on the edge of the bed and began to lace up his shirt.
With a derisive snort of his own, Connell gathered the close and stalked over to the bed. Depositing them he grabbed Beau's face in his hands and forced him to look up. "Why are you so stubborn about it? You spend all of your time seeking fortune but now that you've wound up right in the middle of it, you're determined to refuse it. You won't be here forever, so why not enjoy yourself instead of skulking around hating everything in sight?"
Beau pulled his hands free and stood - the man was still taller but at least he was no longer looming. "I don't hate everything in sight; and this isn't the kind of fortune I was seeking. I had no plans to flit around a castle playing dress up and helping to break curses. I just wanted to take care of my family."
"Well your father will be fine until you return, and your sister seems to be more than fine right now. Except that she's worried sick about her brother. So why not ease the last of her worries and just play along? It's only temporary, you can go back to your rags when you leave."
"No, thank you."
Connell's expression tensed, "There's no good reason for this attitude. And I will not tolerate blatant rudeness in the face of my generous hospitality. Get dressed or I will dress you myself."
"You wouldn't dare."
*~*~*~*
"You look marvelous, Beau! I don't know what you were so worried about." Anwen smoothed and fussed over his dark blue dinner jacket, beaming. "I knew this color would suit you, it brings out your eyes beautifully."
"My eyes?"
Connell nodded, "Yes, you have amazing eyes. I don't think I've ever seen them so blue. It's asha-"
"The rest of me isn't as nice?" Beau interrupted bitterly, staring at the floor.
His sister frowned in concern. Connell's tone was cool, though he was a bit startled. "I was going to say 'it's a shame you hide them with your hair.' I think I'm starting to understand why you're so touchy."
"Good for you," Beau snapped before turning and rushing from the room.
Anwen moved to follow him, but a hand on a shoulder stopped her. She looked up at Connell anxiously, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean…"
"You did nothing, 'Wen. It was his doing. And mine. Let me speak with him." He smiled, "You and Morgan can enjoy a quiet dinner for once. Enjoy your evening and we will see you both later."
Connell left her in the dining room and wandered the halls, brow furrowed in thought. A moment later it was replaced by realization, and his wandering turned focused as he changed direction and headed for the portrait gallery.
Sure enough, there he was. In a far corner, barely visible where he sat against a wall, one leg drawn to his chest with the other stretched out. The blue jacket had been carelessly discarded on the floor beside him. Beau tensed visibly as he heard footsteps, and looked up to glare as Connell approached. "Go away."
"No. What did I tell you about rude behavior? You had no business running off like that."
Beau looked away, "I didn't feel like humiliating myself further."
Connell stood over him, arms folded as he waited patiently until Beau at last clambered to his feet. "You only humiliate yourself when you speak without thinking. If you'd learn to think first, you'd be a lot less miserable."
"Don't even try to lecture me! I know damn well you weren't planning on saying anything nice until I called you on it."
"How would you know that?" Connell asked coolly.
Beau snarled, "Because no one ever does! The villagers call me Beast for a reason; I'm not stupid. And I saw your face the first night I arrived. You're no different from anyone else!"
"Once again, how would you know that? What did my face tell you?"
"The same thing everyone else's face says whenever they see me. 'How can someone like that possibly be related to them?' I've seen it often enough to recognize it." Beau answered, tone once again bitter. He turned and began to walk away as guilty realization flashed across the other man's face.
"Aren't people allowed to make mistakes?" Connell's voice stopped him. He peered at him over his shoulder, not quite convinced to stay. Connell continued, "So my first thoughts were unkind. I admit I have my flaws - but aren't people allowed to make mistakes? Can't we try to fix them? Believe me it took no longer than the next moment to realize you're far more than you appear."
"Whatever. I'm exactly what I look like - a Beast. I know it, my family knows it, everyone else knows it. I don't need you to attempt to put a good face on things just because you insist on playing the exceptional host." Once more he turned and began to walk away.
Connell was having none of it, "I don't say it just to be nice -I try to be a good host but I'm not going to tell lies to do it. That was always my problem, before I was cursed. You could say it led to my curse. Maybe you're not a beauty in the conventional sense, but conventional beauty is overrated. It's taken me a long, long time to actually understand that."
"Good for you. If you're implying that understanding that has to do with your curse, then it seems you're well on your way to breaking it yourself." Beau looked up at him with unhappy eyes, "You clearly don't need us, and we've overstayed our welcome. If it's all right with you, of course."
"I…if you want to go, you of course may leave. I can't hold you here. But I wish you'd stay…"
Beau shook his head, "We've been here too long already. My father will be worried sick about us both, and now of course there will be an extra mouth to feed. I do apologize for taking one of your servants from you."
"Think nothing of it." Connell looked as if he might say more, but instead he only shook his head and watched in silence as Beau left.
*~*~*~*
"Oh come one, we can rest here a bit before heading home. Honestly, 'Wen. What do you do all day to be tired by just an hour of walking?"
"Well excuse me," Anwen made a face at her brother. "Some of us don't travel the world like we don't have a home. I keep the house, I don't walk hither and thither all day."
Morgan frowned, "You needn't be so harsh with her."
"Oh please," Beau glared at them both. "I'm always harsh with her. I'm her brother, it's what I do. Now come on both of you, have some water and a snack and then we'll head on home."
Anwen opened the bag she'd been carrying and passed around the bread and fruit they'd brought with them. "It was kind of your mother to prepare these snacks for us, Morgan. She really is a sweetheart."
"I knew you and mother would get along famously, 'Wen." Morgan winked at her. "She's always wanted a daughter."
"And I've always wanted a mother," Anwen clapped her hands in delight before beaming at her groom-to-be and digging into her own snack.
Beau frowned at them both, his face the picture of confusion. "What are you talking about? You've never met his mother. We got these ourselves from the palace kitchen."
"Palace kitchen? Beau, what silly story are you trying to concoct? We've never been in a palace. If you're trying to make up something to tell father, you'll have to do better than that."
Her brother gaped and shot to his feet, nearly shouting. "I'm not making it up! Stop it this instant, 'Wen. You're not funny at all."
Morgan stared at him, "There's no need to shout. What are you so upset about?"
Wide eyed and intent, Beau held out the apple in his hand. "Where did we get these?"
The other man stared at him like he'd lost his mind, "From my mother, she buys them in the market every week. You know she gave them to us, what are you going on about?"
"And where have we been for the past week and a half." Beau's voice had gone oddly flat. He looked to his sister, who was beginning to look truly concerned.
"Beau, you're starting to scare me. Father told you I met Morgan while you were gone, you came to visit us in the city and meet him yourself. Now we're going home to see papa and ask for his blessing to get married."
But her brother was no longer listening, having turned to dart back the way they'd just come. His heart raced in fear and realization - and confusion. Why was he the only one to remember? After several minutes he was forced to slow and catch his breath, but he kept up a steady, rapid walk as he made his way back to the palace.
At last he reached it, once again moving at a run as he passed by the mass of rosemary and into the palace - not bothering to stop and knock. He paused briefly in the entrance hall, uncertain. After a moment of thought he raced up the massive winding staircase, turning left at the top level and heading directly for what he knew to be Connell's chambers.
Throwing open the doors and nearly exploding into the room, Beau almost smiled at the look of complete shock on the man's face. Connell was stretched out a massive bed, propped up against a pile of pillows as he read a book - he had not even bothered to remove his boots. His mouth gaped, face paling slightly as he stared at Beau. "What-What are you doing here?"
"They've forgotten. That's the curse, isn't it? Everyone forgets once they leave, don't they? But how do they get here to begin with?" Beau stopped at the foot of the bed, watching the other man as he slid off the bed and came to stand with Beau.
"Every now and then someone will find the castle by chance, and if they touch the rosemary they will remember it for a time. Anyone that touches the rosemary can find his way to the castle - for a time. The magic fades from the flowers after a few days however."
Beau spoke slowly, as if he were talking more to himself than to Connell. "That's why my father never came after us. Like them he just…remembered something else."
Connell nodded slowly, "Yes…"
"So the curse is one of forgetting? Why couldn't you just tell us that?" He tilted his head back to stare questioningly at Connell's solemn, handsome face.
"Because it wouldn't have changed anything, and the stipulations of the curse dictate that I could not say anything until the conditions were met."
"What were the conditions?"
Connell hesitated a moment, then he moved away to wander restlessly around his room. "You saw the image of the woman I was supposed to have married…a few months before we were to officially declared our betrothal we got into a fight." He grimaced at the memory, "It was childish and stupid, and basically came down to my not wanting to get married. But we were both in a snit and when she asked why I told her it was because she was not beautiful enough for me. When she demanded to know who was then, I said no one."
"She didn't like that overmuch. In fact she was quite livid - I told you she had your temper. Except she seldom had such honest intentions behind it. She was always mad or vindictive about something. Anyway - she was also a sorceress. And vindictive sorceresses like to curse people. So she cursed me - to live outside of time, forgotten a little bit more each day, first by family and friends, acquainteces, and so forth. Until at last the only ones to remember me were those who remained in the castle. The fields of rosemary are born from the lost memories, and so whoever touches them will remember me for a time - but all memories fade with age and so it's impermanent."
As he came near the end of his explanation, Connell ventured back to stand before Beau, who remained silent. The nobleman smiled, as though he couldn't help but be at least partly amused by his own story. "I was selfish and childish back then, and far too picky. I rejected her and everyone else, ignored them like they didn't exist. So that's what she stuck me with; to be forgotten by all and sundry until one came along who would see and remember me - and whom I would see in return."
"I'm not sure I understand…I mean I remember you, so does that mean I've broken the curse."
Connell smiled, "Yes, I think you have nearly broken it. I didn't think you would…didn't think you could until too late, and by then I'd driven you away. When you left this morning I thought you were gone forever." He lifted a hand to touch Beau's face, but dropped it when the man pulled away. "Why did you come back, Beau?"
The shorter man didn't reply immediately, and spoke slowly when he finally did, as if still trying to puzzle out his own reasons. "Because they both forgot you, they acted like they had never heard of you - I couldn't stand it. You treated my sister like a princess and lost a good man in the process. Not to mention the way you put up with me…and they acted as if you had never existed. Then it clicked into place that maybe that was part of the curse, and I had to come back to make sure you were still here, and that I hadn't been the one to imagine things."
"I would have thought you'd be glad to be rid of me."
Beau flushed guiltily, "Ah…I don't like nobles as a rule. They've never been anything but a pain to me. They're more than happy to use and even happier to discard when they're done. I mean you only brought my sister here to help with the curse…but you were honest about it, and treated her - us - well for it. And when it didn't work out, you didn't punish us or get upset. You just let us go." He shrugged, fidgeting uncomfortably. "Including Morgan. I mean the whole time I was here I couldn't honestly find anything wrong, that's what made me so angry. I kept trying to find some reason to hate you and I couldn't. Y-you're just like what a noble should be. Able, considerate…and beautiful."
It was Connell's turn to be disconcerted, "Beau…"
But the shorter man shook his head, glancing up for a moment before flushing an even deeper shade of red and quickly looked away again. "That's why I came back - I couldn't bear to think you'd only been a figment of my imagination. I know what it's like to be invisible, ignored. I-I didn't want you to feel like that. You don't deserve it."
"Beau…" the shorter man resisted an urge to jump as he felt a hand at the nape of his neck, gently urging him to look up. Painfully he did so, eyes wide with uncertainty as Connell smiled gently at him. "You do realize I'm not letting you leave this time, don't you? You've broken the curse, which means you're mine now."
"But…but that's ridiculous. If I've broken the curse that means everyone else will come back. And you can't possibly want a Beast hang--" His protests were interrupted by Connell's mouth as it covered his own, and Beau's eyes went wide as he realized the nobleman was kissing him. He lifted his arms to Connell's shoulders to push the man away, but his arms seemed to disagree with his mind and instead wrapped around the other man. His eyes drifted shut as he tried to mimic Connell's movements, feeling infinitely better than he had since first arriving at the strange, secluded castle.
skylark97 I should be able to finish Rumpelstiltskin after I get off work tonight.Beauty
"You did what?! Father, how could you! Are you stupid?"
The elderly man stared miserably at the scratched and worn floor of their small cottage home, shuffling his feet as his son continued to loudly berate him. "Beau…" he attempted a small protest, but his son didn't hear him.
"Why didn't you wait until I got back? You gave her away to whom? Why? Please tell me you're joking!" Beau continued to howl and shout, never noticing as his father grew more and more unhappy in front of him. At last he gave up and sighed heavily, dropping heavily into one of the rickety chair around their small table. "Explain it to me again."
The old man took a breath and, steeling himself for more shouting, once more explained what had happened to his son, "Your sister wanted some rosemary for her garden…I could find none while I was out bartering…but on the journey home I became lost in the woods."
"Again" his son muttered shortly.
Coughing the old man continued his story, "I became lost, and stumbled across a massive castle…I've never seen anything like it Beau. As if there were a lord or prince there that everyone has forgotten about. I never knew such a place existed anywhere out here. We're so far from the other cities and--"
"On with the story, if you please father." Tiredly Beau buried his head in one hand, fingers tangling in his red-brown hair.
"Of course. I'm sorry, Beau. The front yard - it was massive - was filled with rosemary. Everywhere green things could grow, it was filled with rosemary. Unlike any rosemary I've ever seen." He paused, his face lighting up as he suddenly recalled something and shuffled over to the worn out satchel lying on the table beside his son. Fumbling around for a moment, he finally withdrew a delicate sprig of rosemary, the leaves as bright and glittering as emeralds, the flowers pure enough in color to rival amethysts. Though it had been stowed carelessly away in the bag, it seemed unaffected. It was as if it were made of glass or stone, yet a single touch revealed it to be very real indeed. "See? Isn't it amazing? So I picked some - just two bits like this. Your sister is such a gardener, I did not thing she would require more than that."
He fell into a tense silence, knowing his volatile son would not like the next stage of his story. "A man suddenly appeared as I was leaving…he was upset that I had dared to disturb his valuable collection of flowers." The man took a deep breath to steady his voice, "He demanded to know what I was doing, and when I explained that they were for your sister he seemed intrigued. He agreed to let me take my two and more besides, if I would but agree to let him meet the woman that loved rosemary enough to ask for it rather than for silks and jewels and other silly things."
'And you agreed because…." Beau's face was a mixture of disbelief and accusation.
His father shifted uncomfortably, "He seemed harmless and friendly - and I did steal his flowers after all. It seemed a minor thing to let him meet her, and your sister seemed rather taken by the idea. It was a harmless lark, I thought."
"So now he's got her locked up in this palace you keep yammering on about, and you can't remember where exactly it is? You're a fool!"
Still clutching the rosemary tightly in one hand, the old man frowned deeply in thought. The scent of the flower drifted through the cottage, mixing with the smells of the burning wood in the fireplace and the stew that cooked above the hot flames. "Wait…I remember…an old path deep in the woods, not far from where it turns to head toward the city. It's faded, barely visible…it winds and winds through the trees, you can see that at one point it must have been much wider and frequently used."
Beau stared at his father uncertainly, not sure what to make of the odd expression on the man's face. "Father? Are you certain? A moment ago you had no idea. And I've been that way hundreds of times; never have I seen such a path."
The old man shook himself free of the strange haze that had descended over him. "I am sure." He said firmly.
His son surged to his feet, expression determined. "Then I’m going to go get her back. Who ever heard of something as stupid as trading a girl for a stupid flower?" Continuing to grumble, he snatched the rosemary from his father and then rapidly retrieved the travel gear he had only just discarded. A battered satchel similar to the one on the table was slung over one arm and across his chest, a smaller bag fastened to his belt, and a torn and ragged cloak wrapped around his body. With barely a nod goodbye, Beau departed.
Early evening had descended, shadows slowly growing longer as he walked briskly down the beaten path leading to the village, and eventually on to the forest beyond it. As he drew closer to the village he grew visibly tense, shoulders tight and mouth thin as he allowed the hood of his old cloak to hide most of his features.
To no avail; no sooner had he entered the center of the small village than the whispers and jeers once more began.
"Oh, he's off again already."
"Another goose chase."
"Wonder what treasure he's seeking this time."
"Off to woo a princess, no doubt."
"With his looks? A scullery maid wouldn't fall for such a plain face, even if he had the money to make up for it."
"Hey Beast! Where are you going this time? Going to work for the king? Maybe you can be his clown!"
"To hell with you!" Beau snarled angrily. He turned away with a frustrated huff as laughter erupted amongst the small crowd from which the comment had emerged. Pulling back further into his hood, he increased his pace to a near run until he arrived at last at the edge of town - and the beginning of the forest.
An hour into his walk, he finally released a pent up sigh and threw back his hood. Gazing up through the trees at the shreds of star and moon visible through them, he let out a slower, more relaxed breath. He continued to walk at a slower pace, relying on familiarity and moonlight to guide his way.
Another hour passed, until he finally reached the bend in the road that indicated one was halfway to the city. He slowed to a stop, examining the surrounding forest. There was nothing…but no….how had he never noticed it before? There in the trees - a trace of a path. As his father had said, it was barely visible - only his father would manage to get completely and utterly lost following a trail he had no business being on in the first place.
He hesitated, torn for a moment between moving on and stopping for the night. But his sister was waiting for him to rescue her. He moved on, fighting his way past old trees and tangled vines, along the old path with only moonlight to help him. Mutters and curses filled the night air, mingling with those of the nocturnal animals wandering the woods.
At last the path seemed to widen and smooth out, the trees thinning as a monstrous building came into view. It was clearly a castle, the moon overhead giving it a dark, silver-gray tone. Even in darkness the building was impressive, and Beau lingered a moment to examine it. Finally he shook himself and ventured closer, frowning when he noticed that the entrance was unlocked, one massive iron gate hanging partially open. Slipping through, he raised his brow - the field surrounding the castle really was drowned in rosemary. Even in the dark there was no mistaking it - rosemary as far as the eye could see.
Continuing on toward the castle, he paused at the wide double doors. Tracing it lightly with his fingers he searched for a handle or some other means by which to open it. A servant's door would be easier, but in the dark one would be near impossible to find. At last giving up, the door had no means of access from the outside, he lifted his hand to the knocker and slammed it against the heavy oak three times. He waited.
Slowly the door creaked open, and a short man peered with wide eyes up at Beau, "Who are you?"
"I've come for my sister." Beau said shortly, immediately pushing past the man and stepping into the entrance hall. "Where is she?"
The servant said nothing, and Beau grew impatient. Grabbing the young man by his shirt and hauling him forward, he glared down with anger bright blue eyes. "Where's my sister?"
"D-dining room. To the left at the end of the hall."
Dropping the man to the floor, he called back as he walked away. "You'd better hope you had nothing to do with her kidnapping."
Surging down the hall and through the indicated door he sailed half blindly through three more chambers and had begun to think the servant had lied to him when he suddenly found himself in a massive dining hall, the ceiling far above them. His eyes immediately sought out and found his sister - who was staring back at him in stupefied amazement.
He stared back, equally shocked. He'd come to play hero and it seemed the damsel was rather far from distress. His sister was….more breathtaking than usual. Rather than her usual faded and patched dress, she was dressed in a gown the exact shade of her blue-violet eyes. Her mahogany hair was arranged in a tumble of curls that must have taken ages to arrange. She looked like the princess all the villagers said she should be. Beau's shoulders slumped slightly a moment before he resolutely squared them again. "I came to take you home, Anwen."
"Oh." She smiled sweetly at him, "I should have known you'd rush to my rescue the moment you got home. Connell, this is my brother Beau." She spoke to the man next to her, who nodded absently as he stared at his unexpected guest.
Beau stared back, growing even more disheartened in the matter of 'rescuing' his sister. If Anwen was a princess, the man fit the role of her dashing prince perfectly. He looked exactly like the ones in all of his sister's silly books - tall, dark, and as handsome as his sister was beautiful. Gray green eyes examined him in return, and Beau frowned in anger and old pain as an all too familiar expression flickered over the man's face, an expression that asked 'How can he possibly be related to them?' He hated it.
His expression darkened further, "What business do you have kidnapping my sister? And you!" He glared at Anwen, "I come all this way and you're eating dinner with him? What's wrong with you?"
"I kidnapped no one," the man spoke is a slow, deep voice. His fingers idly traced the rim of his wine glass as he stared at Beau. "Your sister chose to stay of her own free will, once she arrived."
Anwen nodded in agreement, "Yes. I admit it was a bit peculiar at first." She smiled reassuringly at her brother, "But everything was fine once I talked with Connell."
"Everything is fine?" Beau half shouted. "I-I don't believe you! Father is at home worried sick about you, I've not been able to rest in three days because I was anxious to get home and then to find you and now you're telling me everything is fine?” Losing patience completely he moved closer to the table, expression mutinous as he ventured toward his sister. "You're going home." He reached out to grasp her wrist and haul her up, growing more displeased as she stubbornly fought to remain where he was.
"Release her this instant." A strong hand fastened over Beau's arm and he turned to snarl angrily at the 'prince' who had risen from his seat. He released his sister and turned the full force of his anger on the dark haired stranger. "Get away! This is all your doing! If you hadn't terrorized my father, she wouldn't be caught in your dratted spells to begin with."
He leaped at the man, fists swinging. They never hit; a flash of pain was all Beau felt before his world went dark.
Connell looked in annoyance at the man slumped on the floor, "Is he always like this?"
Anwen laughed, the sound like bells. "Beau's protective, it's his most endearing quality. But it comes with his temper, which is his less charming trait. Still sort of cute though."
"Hn. I suppose I should let him stay?"
Anwen looked pleadingly at him, "If you don't mind too terribly? I'm sorry he intruded like that, I didn't expect him home so soon…I do feel bad about my father being worried."
"Don't." Connell said shortly as he moved to call for a servant. "He'll cease to worry soon enough. Everything will be fine when you return, I promise you."
"I know, I trust you." She watched as two servants came in, and after speaking with Connell began to slowly lift her brother to take from the room. "Be careful with him, please?" Anxiously she bit her lip, "He's going to be in an awful mood when he wakes up."
Connell grunted, "I'm still amazed he managed to find his way here."
Once again taking her seat to resume dinner, Anwen laughed lightly. "Beau's always had a knack for finding things - especially trouble."
"Yes, but the curse…"
Anwen shook her head, still amused. "Curse or no curse, if Beau is set on something he will eventually find it. I feel bad, he was so intent on rescuing me…ah well, once he wakes up I'll explain everything to him. Just watch, after a few days of ill temper he'll be begging to help."
*~*~*~*
"No way in hell."
"Come on Beau, now you're just sulking." Anwen's tone was scolding as she frowned at him. They were sitting on a bench in the gardens, where Beau had gone after yet another failed encounter during breakfast.
His fingers went up to rub the back of his head, still sore and bruised from where he'd been knocked unconscious the other day. He scowled, "It's not like I could do anything anyway, from what you say. Especially if he's not saying what's required to break the curse. Or anything else for that matter."
"Would you stop it already? It's not like you to be so stubborn."
"It's not like to up and leave home to play princess in a strange castle either. But here you are."
"I am not playing princess! He said I might be the one to help him break his curse, that's the only reason I'm here."
Beaus stared scathingly at his sister, especially at the blue silk dress and jewels adorning her throat. "Whatever. Good for you." He moved to leave.
"How dare you! You know me better than that, don't speak to your big sister that way! I would help anyone that asked, how dare you suggest otherwise! Now get back here and apologize to me at once."
Hanging his head, mostly in frustration, Beau ambled slowly back toward his furious sister. "Fine. I’m sorry. I know better - but you have to admit 'Wen that it's not so great from my point of view."
"Oh, please. Maybe you should think about things before rushing into them, like all your silly little adventures."
"They're not silly!" He dropped back down onto the bench, shoulders hunched defensively. "Anyway it's better than sitting at home and doing nothing. I've brought back some pretty cool stuff. And it's easier to feed two mouths than three…" the last was mostly mumbled.
Anwen punched him. "We'd rather have you home and eat a little less than always wonder where you are and what you're doing! If 'playing princess' is what it took to get you to stay for more than a day then I wish I'd done it a long time ago." She kicked lightly at the grass beneath their feet. "It won't kill you to stay, you're good at this sort of thing. Maybe he can't tell us much, but I bet you could figure it out anyway. Please, for me?" She clasped her hands and looked at him pleadingly.
"Aww…don't…" Beau groaned in defeat, "Okay, okay. Not like I had anything better to do anyway. But only if he wants my help, which I doubt."
"He says it can't hurt, and anyway this place is so empty it will be nice to have more people around." She sprung to her feet and dragged her brother up. "Now come on," she winked, "You can play dress up too."
"Oh no. No, no, no." Vehemently Beau shook his head and pulled free of her grasp, "It's one thing for you to put on those ridiculous clothes, but I'll just look more like a clown than ever. No thank you."
Dismay filled Anwen's face, "Beau! What have I told you? You're not…I thought you'd gotten over…"
"I'm fine." Beau turned away and walked quickly from the garden, ignoring his sister's pleas to stay.
He stalked blindly through the halls of the castle, head down as he lost himself in thought. Dress up? Him? Ha! Better to just figure out the curse and get back to reality. Hmm….a curse that kept him alone in his castle, save for about half a dozen servants…a massive castle that no one in the village had ever mentioned…and the rosemary, he'd bet anything the rosemary had something to do with it all. Plus there was Anwen…not enough to figure anything out. He'd have to speak to the blasted prince himself. Shaking off thoughts of the curse, he slowed his pace to take in his surroundings.
He'd wandered into a gallery of some sort. Too many portraits to count surrounded him, countless pairs of eyes staring back at him. Some were clearly relatives of his host, others spouses and perhaps friends. He paused as he came across one of the prince, looking very much as he had the two times Beau had so far encountered him. He stood with a beautiful woman, though not, Beau though, as beautiful as his sister. She and the prince nevertheless made an impressive couple…perhaps a wife? But no, because he was the same age in the portrait as he was currently. So it couldn't be very old.
"She was my betrothed. Rather, she was supposed to be." A deep voice spoke up from behind Beau, who started in surprise.
He whirled around to glare, "Do you always sneak up on people like that?"
Connell raised a brow, "It's no worse than picking fights with complete strangers in their own homes."
Beau snorted, "At least I don't demand people in exchange for a couple sprigs of rosemary."
"Let's not get into another argument, the past several have been plenty enough for me."
Though he looked like he'd rather say otherwise, Beau shut his mouth and stiffly nodded, reminding himself that he had agreed to help. "Does she have something to do with your curse?"
"Why would you think that?" Connell asked.
Beau shrugged, "There's something strange about - namely that it looks as if it could have been painted yesterday. Plus you speak in the past tense, and I've seen no sign that anyone besides you lives here."
"Your sister was right - you're rather good at this."
"I haven't done anything except point out the obvious. What does she have to do with the curse?"
Connell's mouth quirked, "She was the one that cast it. I'm afraid I succeeded in making her rather angry - she had every right to be - and in retribution she cast the curse that has kept me here for the past twelve years. I've not aged a day since the curse was cast."
"That explains the portrait. What did you do to warrant such retribution?"
"Warrant such retribution?" Connell repeated in amazement. "You're rather well spoken for a peasant."
Beau was dismissive, "Fancy words aren't so difficult to learn. With all the traveling I do, it might surprise you what I've learned."
"You travel frequently? For what purpose?"
"Because it's better than sitting at home and hoping that good fortune will come for a visit." Beau said shortly, avoiding the man's gaze as he replied.
"An interesting philosophy. Have you had any luck in tracking fortune down?"
Beau looked at him askance, "I'd say it's obvious that I haven't. But we get by."
"Why don't you just work in the village or something?"
"Why all the questions about my life?" Beau snapped, finally losing patience. "What does it matter? I just don't want to." Spinning sharply around, Beau stalked back the way he had originally come.
"You've got the same temper she had. Only difference being that I have no qualms about knocking sense into you."
Beau froze at his words, turning around to see that Connell was staring at the woman in the portrait. He glared at the man, "Try knocking sense into me again and you'll be the one out cold on the floor this time."
Connell smirked, "I doubt it, but you're welcome to try - only do it when your sister isn't around. She's starting to get upset with me."
"No worries, I've had enough of her howling for one day."
Another slow smirk, and Beau found himself anxiously looking away. "I assume you got a sound dressing down for this morning?"
Beau rolled his eyes, "I wish that was all it had been. Somehow she managed to snare me into actually helping you." He shot the man a dark look.
"I sincerely doubt either of you will be able to help me - though I deeply appreciate it." The man smiled sadly.
"I though that was your whole purpose in having my sister brought here?"
"Yes, that was my original purpose. But in the past few days I've come to realize that she is not the one to break it."
Beau's face clouded with outrage, "And what reason do you have for so easily discarding my sister."
Sighing heavily, and running a hand through his dark hair the other man indicated Beau should follow him as he turned to walk back the way he had come. Beau followed him, out of the gallery and down a long, sunlit hallway until at last they reached what turned out to be a music room. Connell cut through the center of the room, headed toward the wide glass doors and the balcony on the other side of them.
Throwing the doors open, he motioned Beau to follow him. Lifting an arm he pointed across the sprawling field to a small pond - and the couple seated on a bench beside it.
Beau narrowed his eyes, displeased at the lack of space between his sister and the man she was with - whom he recognized as the servant he had maltreated upon his arrival. "Just who the hell-"
"None of that," Connell said in a warning tone, "You won't meet a better man than Morgan. You may speak with him later if you like, though I imagine your sister will be thoroughly displeased with that."
"I don't care if she's displeased or not, if he wants to get that cozy with her he'll damn well speak with me." Fists clenched at his side, Beau turned to leave - but was held up by the hand that fastened on his arm. He glared up at Connell, "Let me go."
"Not if you're just going to race down there and interrupt them. That's not why I brought you here - I just wanted to show you why your sister won't be the one to break the curse."
"I don't get the connection. Why don't you try explaining?"
Connell shook his head, "I can not. The stipulations of the curse prevent me. But please trust me when I say that she will not be the one to break the curse."
"Not like I have a choice, really." Beau's gaze had strayed once again to his sister and her sudden suitor. Unconsciously his shoulders slumped, and with a defeated huff he turned away. "I realize I won't be able to break it either, but as we seem to have unintentionally stolen one of your servants the least I can do is help you figure out who can break it. Let me think a bit." With a wave he departed.
*~*~*~*
"I'm not wearing that." Beau folded his arms across his chest and glared at the offensive jacket and the man holding it. His hair was still wet from a recent bath, his shirt unlaced as the aggravating servant had interrupted him in the process of dressing.
Morgan frowned disapprovingly, "But you can't keep wearing the same things every day? And your sister selected this ensemble for you herself…"
"Want to bet?" Snorting beau snatched the clothes from the servant's hands and threw them into a corner of the room. "I'm not prancing around like some would be noble. And speaking of my sister," he once more folded his arms across his chest, "Why not explain to me what your intentions are."
The servant's eyes went wide with panic, flicking toward the door a moment before he squared his shoulders and decided to remain where he was. "My intentions are nothing but honorable; I wanted to speak with you but 'Wen said you would be difficult…"
"Che. I'm only difficult about the men in the village. They're all asses." He peered at the nervous servant, "But I've not noticed anything reprehensible about you thus far…you'll have to speak with my father at some point."
Morgan bobbed his head, "Yes, of course. We were thinking of leaving once you figure out the solution to the curse, as you told your sister you would."
"All right then. But if I see you've hurt her in any way, you'll not live long enough to regret it."
The servant smiled, "Of course. I'd not have it any other way."
Beau blinked, and then smiled back. "That will do then. But I'm still not wearing that ridiculous outfit, you can go and tell her that."
Resigned, Morgan gathered the clothes and laid them neatly across a chair before departing.
With a sigh Beau collapsed on the bed, hand behind his head as he stared up at the canopy. Gradually his eyes drifted shut, as he debated the merits of skipping dinner altogether. A knock at the door interrupted his impromptu nap. "If you've come about the clothes Anwen," he snapped as he heard the door open, "I've already told you I'm not going to wear them." Getting only silence in return he propped himself up on his elbows to glare at his sister.
Connell stared back, "I really don't understand this refusal of yours to wear anything but those rags." He strolled further into the room, examining the clothes set out on the chair. "Your sister went to the trouble of picking them out, the least you can do is wear them."
"What does it matter what I wear? And I'm not prancing around pretending to be fancy when I'm quite clearly not. It's ridiculous. There's no reason for me to wear that, so I'm not going to." Shoving up, Beau sat on the edge of the bed and began to lace up his shirt.
With a derisive snort of his own, Connell gathered the close and stalked over to the bed. Depositing them he grabbed Beau's face in his hands and forced him to look up. "Why are you so stubborn about it? You spend all of your time seeking fortune but now that you've wound up right in the middle of it, you're determined to refuse it. You won't be here forever, so why not enjoy yourself instead of skulking around hating everything in sight?"
Beau pulled his hands free and stood - the man was still taller but at least he was no longer looming. "I don't hate everything in sight; and this isn't the kind of fortune I was seeking. I had no plans to flit around a castle playing dress up and helping to break curses. I just wanted to take care of my family."
"Well your father will be fine until you return, and your sister seems to be more than fine right now. Except that she's worried sick about her brother. So why not ease the last of her worries and just play along? It's only temporary, you can go back to your rags when you leave."
"No, thank you."
Connell's expression tensed, "There's no good reason for this attitude. And I will not tolerate blatant rudeness in the face of my generous hospitality. Get dressed or I will dress you myself."
"You wouldn't dare."
*~*~*~*
"You look marvelous, Beau! I don't know what you were so worried about." Anwen smoothed and fussed over his dark blue dinner jacket, beaming. "I knew this color would suit you, it brings out your eyes beautifully."
"My eyes?"
Connell nodded, "Yes, you have amazing eyes. I don't think I've ever seen them so blue. It's asha-"
"The rest of me isn't as nice?" Beau interrupted bitterly, staring at the floor.
His sister frowned in concern. Connell's tone was cool, though he was a bit startled. "I was going to say 'it's a shame you hide them with your hair.' I think I'm starting to understand why you're so touchy."
"Good for you," Beau snapped before turning and rushing from the room.
Anwen moved to follow him, but a hand on a shoulder stopped her. She looked up at Connell anxiously, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean…"
"You did nothing, 'Wen. It was his doing. And mine. Let me speak with him." He smiled, "You and Morgan can enjoy a quiet dinner for once. Enjoy your evening and we will see you both later."
Connell left her in the dining room and wandered the halls, brow furrowed in thought. A moment later it was replaced by realization, and his wandering turned focused as he changed direction and headed for the portrait gallery.
Sure enough, there he was. In a far corner, barely visible where he sat against a wall, one leg drawn to his chest with the other stretched out. The blue jacket had been carelessly discarded on the floor beside him. Beau tensed visibly as he heard footsteps, and looked up to glare as Connell approached. "Go away."
"No. What did I tell you about rude behavior? You had no business running off like that."
Beau looked away, "I didn't feel like humiliating myself further."
Connell stood over him, arms folded as he waited patiently until Beau at last clambered to his feet. "You only humiliate yourself when you speak without thinking. If you'd learn to think first, you'd be a lot less miserable."
"Don't even try to lecture me! I know damn well you weren't planning on saying anything nice until I called you on it."
"How would you know that?" Connell asked coolly.
Beau snarled, "Because no one ever does! The villagers call me Beast for a reason; I'm not stupid. And I saw your face the first night I arrived. You're no different from anyone else!"
"Once again, how would you know that? What did my face tell you?"
"The same thing everyone else's face says whenever they see me. 'How can someone like that possibly be related to them?' I've seen it often enough to recognize it." Beau answered, tone once again bitter. He turned and began to walk away as guilty realization flashed across the other man's face.
"Aren't people allowed to make mistakes?" Connell's voice stopped him. He peered at him over his shoulder, not quite convinced to stay. Connell continued, "So my first thoughts were unkind. I admit I have my flaws - but aren't people allowed to make mistakes? Can't we try to fix them? Believe me it took no longer than the next moment to realize you're far more than you appear."
"Whatever. I'm exactly what I look like - a Beast. I know it, my family knows it, everyone else knows it. I don't need you to attempt to put a good face on things just because you insist on playing the exceptional host." Once more he turned and began to walk away.
Connell was having none of it, "I don't say it just to be nice -I try to be a good host but I'm not going to tell lies to do it. That was always my problem, before I was cursed. You could say it led to my curse. Maybe you're not a beauty in the conventional sense, but conventional beauty is overrated. It's taken me a long, long time to actually understand that."
"Good for you. If you're implying that understanding that has to do with your curse, then it seems you're well on your way to breaking it yourself." Beau looked up at him with unhappy eyes, "You clearly don't need us, and we've overstayed our welcome. If it's all right with you, of course."
"I…if you want to go, you of course may leave. I can't hold you here. But I wish you'd stay…"
Beau shook his head, "We've been here too long already. My father will be worried sick about us both, and now of course there will be an extra mouth to feed. I do apologize for taking one of your servants from you."
"Think nothing of it." Connell looked as if he might say more, but instead he only shook his head and watched in silence as Beau left.
*~*~*~*
"Oh come one, we can rest here a bit before heading home. Honestly, 'Wen. What do you do all day to be tired by just an hour of walking?"
"Well excuse me," Anwen made a face at her brother. "Some of us don't travel the world like we don't have a home. I keep the house, I don't walk hither and thither all day."
Morgan frowned, "You needn't be so harsh with her."
"Oh please," Beau glared at them both. "I'm always harsh with her. I'm her brother, it's what I do. Now come on both of you, have some water and a snack and then we'll head on home."
Anwen opened the bag she'd been carrying and passed around the bread and fruit they'd brought with them. "It was kind of your mother to prepare these snacks for us, Morgan. She really is a sweetheart."
"I knew you and mother would get along famously, 'Wen." Morgan winked at her. "She's always wanted a daughter."
"And I've always wanted a mother," Anwen clapped her hands in delight before beaming at her groom-to-be and digging into her own snack.
Beau frowned at them both, his face the picture of confusion. "What are you talking about? You've never met his mother. We got these ourselves from the palace kitchen."
"Palace kitchen? Beau, what silly story are you trying to concoct? We've never been in a palace. If you're trying to make up something to tell father, you'll have to do better than that."
Her brother gaped and shot to his feet, nearly shouting. "I'm not making it up! Stop it this instant, 'Wen. You're not funny at all."
Morgan stared at him, "There's no need to shout. What are you so upset about?"
Wide eyed and intent, Beau held out the apple in his hand. "Where did we get these?"
The other man stared at him like he'd lost his mind, "From my mother, she buys them in the market every week. You know she gave them to us, what are you going on about?"
"And where have we been for the past week and a half." Beau's voice had gone oddly flat. He looked to his sister, who was beginning to look truly concerned.
"Beau, you're starting to scare me. Father told you I met Morgan while you were gone, you came to visit us in the city and meet him yourself. Now we're going home to see papa and ask for his blessing to get married."
But her brother was no longer listening, having turned to dart back the way they'd just come. His heart raced in fear and realization - and confusion. Why was he the only one to remember? After several minutes he was forced to slow and catch his breath, but he kept up a steady, rapid walk as he made his way back to the palace.
At last he reached it, once again moving at a run as he passed by the mass of rosemary and into the palace - not bothering to stop and knock. He paused briefly in the entrance hall, uncertain. After a moment of thought he raced up the massive winding staircase, turning left at the top level and heading directly for what he knew to be Connell's chambers.
Throwing open the doors and nearly exploding into the room, Beau almost smiled at the look of complete shock on the man's face. Connell was stretched out a massive bed, propped up against a pile of pillows as he read a book - he had not even bothered to remove his boots. His mouth gaped, face paling slightly as he stared at Beau. "What-What are you doing here?"
"They've forgotten. That's the curse, isn't it? Everyone forgets once they leave, don't they? But how do they get here to begin with?" Beau stopped at the foot of the bed, watching the other man as he slid off the bed and came to stand with Beau.
"Every now and then someone will find the castle by chance, and if they touch the rosemary they will remember it for a time. Anyone that touches the rosemary can find his way to the castle - for a time. The magic fades from the flowers after a few days however."
Beau spoke slowly, as if he were talking more to himself than to Connell. "That's why my father never came after us. Like them he just…remembered something else."
Connell nodded slowly, "Yes…"
"So the curse is one of forgetting? Why couldn't you just tell us that?" He tilted his head back to stare questioningly at Connell's solemn, handsome face.
"Because it wouldn't have changed anything, and the stipulations of the curse dictate that I could not say anything until the conditions were met."
"What were the conditions?"
Connell hesitated a moment, then he moved away to wander restlessly around his room. "You saw the image of the woman I was supposed to have married…a few months before we were to officially declared our betrothal we got into a fight." He grimaced at the memory, "It was childish and stupid, and basically came down to my not wanting to get married. But we were both in a snit and when she asked why I told her it was because she was not beautiful enough for me. When she demanded to know who was then, I said no one."
"She didn't like that overmuch. In fact she was quite livid - I told you she had your temper. Except she seldom had such honest intentions behind it. She was always mad or vindictive about something. Anyway - she was also a sorceress. And vindictive sorceresses like to curse people. So she cursed me - to live outside of time, forgotten a little bit more each day, first by family and friends, acquainteces, and so forth. Until at last the only ones to remember me were those who remained in the castle. The fields of rosemary are born from the lost memories, and so whoever touches them will remember me for a time - but all memories fade with age and so it's impermanent."
As he came near the end of his explanation, Connell ventured back to stand before Beau, who remained silent. The nobleman smiled, as though he couldn't help but be at least partly amused by his own story. "I was selfish and childish back then, and far too picky. I rejected her and everyone else, ignored them like they didn't exist. So that's what she stuck me with; to be forgotten by all and sundry until one came along who would see and remember me - and whom I would see in return."
"I'm not sure I understand…I mean I remember you, so does that mean I've broken the curse."
Connell smiled, "Yes, I think you have nearly broken it. I didn't think you would…didn't think you could until too late, and by then I'd driven you away. When you left this morning I thought you were gone forever." He lifted a hand to touch Beau's face, but dropped it when the man pulled away. "Why did you come back, Beau?"
The shorter man didn't reply immediately, and spoke slowly when he finally did, as if still trying to puzzle out his own reasons. "Because they both forgot you, they acted like they had never heard of you - I couldn't stand it. You treated my sister like a princess and lost a good man in the process. Not to mention the way you put up with me…and they acted as if you had never existed. Then it clicked into place that maybe that was part of the curse, and I had to come back to make sure you were still here, and that I hadn't been the one to imagine things."
"I would have thought you'd be glad to be rid of me."
Beau flushed guiltily, "Ah…I don't like nobles as a rule. They've never been anything but a pain to me. They're more than happy to use and even happier to discard when they're done. I mean you only brought my sister here to help with the curse…but you were honest about it, and treated her - us - well for it. And when it didn't work out, you didn't punish us or get upset. You just let us go." He shrugged, fidgeting uncomfortably. "Including Morgan. I mean the whole time I was here I couldn't honestly find anything wrong, that's what made me so angry. I kept trying to find some reason to hate you and I couldn't. Y-you're just like what a noble should be. Able, considerate…and beautiful."
It was Connell's turn to be disconcerted, "Beau…"
But the shorter man shook his head, glancing up for a moment before flushing an even deeper shade of red and quickly looked away again. "That's why I came back - I couldn't bear to think you'd only been a figment of my imagination. I know what it's like to be invisible, ignored. I-I didn't want you to feel like that. You don't deserve it."
"Beau…" the shorter man resisted an urge to jump as he felt a hand at the nape of his neck, gently urging him to look up. Painfully he did so, eyes wide with uncertainty as Connell smiled gently at him. "You do realize I'm not letting you leave this time, don't you? You've broken the curse, which means you're mine now."
"But…but that's ridiculous. If I've broken the curse that means everyone else will come back. And you can't possibly want a Beast hang--" His protests were interrupted by Connell's mouth as it covered his own, and Beau's eyes went wide as he realized the nobleman was kissing him. He lifted his arms to Connell's shoulders to push the man away, but his arms seemed to disagree with his mind and instead wrapped around the other man. His eyes drifted shut as he tried to mimic Connell's movements, feeling infinitely better than he had since first arriving at the strange, secluded castle.
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Date: 2004-04-07 01:22 pm (UTC)*huggles Beau and takes him home with me* ^__^
You rock the universe.
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Date: 2004-04-07 06:04 pm (UTC)*comes back* have chocolate
cookiesbishounen. *runs away again*no subject
Date: 2004-04-07 08:41 pm (UTC)Damn, high praise indeed. I'm uber thrilled you liked it that much. I was rather partial to this one, so I'm glad it actually seems to have turned out well.
mmmm, chocolate bishounen.
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Date: 2004-04-07 08:46 pm (UTC)Hee - I was hoping you'd like it.
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Date: 2004-04-08 10:03 pm (UTC)Have to say I like this one much more than the Disney version - strangley seems more realistic.
Very, very wonderful
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Date: 2004-04-08 11:01 pm (UTC)Thank you muchly. This is my fav so far, so I'm happy to hear it's making such a good impression.
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Date: 2004-04-11 08:23 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-04-11 08:28 pm (UTC)Awsqueee? Heh, that's a new one. I like it! Thankee muchly.
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Date: 2004-04-21 06:24 am (UTC)