Erik was hers, there was nothing left to fear.
He’d gambled everything, lost it, and now all that remained was them. “I didn’t even imagine-” but he stopped, and Isabelle shook her head refusing to let his walls come back up.
“What?”
“I didn’t expect to fall in love with you. I thought you’d be like the rest of them. Frightened, compliant, boring. But you’re not, Isabelle, you’re the most wilfully stubborn, obstinate person I’ve ever met. You made me burn with something I’d never known existed. Hatred. Anger. Love. How could I lose that? A real-life, knowing that I’d killed you to get it. Spending every day remembering you? I couldn’t do it. Just like my parents should have let my sister die but couldn’t. I’ve spent years hating them, blaming them for this. And I go and do the same thing. But for you? To keep you? Remaining a beast seems a ridiculously small price to pay.”
“And your people?” Isabelle whispered, “they’ll all know. It’s all my fault. They’ll know that you and I-” a crimson blush spread over her cheeks as the sudden realisation enveloped her. Every single person out there would know why she could no longer break the curse, “I can’t go out there.”
“You can. And you will. Now get dressed.” The last bit was an order, delivered with a sternness that made desire pulse through her.
“Are you staying?” She questioned, watching his reflection in the mirror.
“You’re shy? Now?” His eyes met hers in the mirror and she held them for a moment. Then wetting her lips with her tongue she climbed from the bed and began pulling on the dress. She would be lying to herself if she pretended that going out into the castle wasn’t a terrifying prospect. So she focused on the dress, and not the fact that she felt like she was being marched out to the gallows.
It was white. A beautiful, crisp white with barely visible golden leaves shimmering all over it. The corset was silken, the skirts swept around her as if they were weightless.
The gown symbolised purity.
“This is what I would have worn to die?” She realised aloud, he shrugged it off, “it seems somewhat wrong now, to wear white when everybody out there knows that I shouldn’t be.”
“A dress is a dress.” He said simply, though his eyes didn’t leave her as she pulled it on. He scrutinised her carefully and Isabelle struggled to keep her breathing even, so he didn’t realise just how much an effect his insistent gaze left on her.
“So, will winter return now?”
“No. Time moved, whilst you were here. A glimpse to the world, at life and promise. It’s stopped now, I can feel it.”
“So, we’ll be poised forever on the cusp of spring?” It seemed terribly cruel, blossoms which would never bloom, nights which would never lighten, warmth which would never come. “It really is a horrible curse.” With a final pull at her corset, Isabelle moved towards the long mirror by the window and took in her appearance. She felt different, completely, but she looked normal.
How could she be so changed, and yet still see the same person reflected back at her?
“Are you ready?”
“No. But we best get this over with.” Isabelle sighed as she walked towards him.
Erik stretched onto his back feet, and Isabelle watched as his full height was once again revealed. She felt dwarfed next to him and she was almost comforted when he dropped back to four feet to escort her to the door, “go on.” He indicated to the doors and she understood finally where they were. They were in the master suite on the top floor, she remembered inspecting the gilding from the other side when this door was locked.
Erik wanted her to go out first? To face the wrath of Charlotte and Joseph Hands, of Maggie and Natalie and the women who hated her. Would Thomas have returned? Peter? Isabelle desperately wanted the floor to swallow her. She had ruined everything, all their hope at normal lives. Realistically she couldn’t hide in here, especially under Erik’s insistent gaze. So, Isabelle took a deep breath, opened the door and stepped outside.
The sunlight flooded in through the domed glass roof, it made everything shine, everywhere had been polished and cleaned. The maids had been allowed upstairs. Everything was different now.
Isabelle walked towards the balustrade and let her fingers touch the shimmering carvings. She had expected a walk of shame through the castle, forced to apologise to people individually. What she hadn’t expected was that everybody would be in the hall staring up at her. Isabelle drank in the scene.
One by one, the servants dropped to their knees.
“What-?” She stared down at the staff in astonishment.
“You’re not one of them now Isabelle, you’re above them. You’ll rule with me.” He stated, standing beside her.
“Rule?” She repeated in disbelief, tilting her head a little to hear him better, but still not taking her eyes off the servants. She looked at the downcast faces of the people who had imprisoned her, belittled her, scolded her, prepared to murder her.
“You’re my queen now.” Erik’s voice was deep, and she felt his huge paw snake around her throat and pull her back against the heat and firmness of his body. “This is what you wanted Isabelle. Now you get to spend eternity here, with me.”
“Eternity?” She whispered.
“Immortality Isabelle, you are a part of the curse now, you’ll be alive forever. Ageless and beautiful. Happy Birthday.”
“And you’ll be a beast. Forever?”
“Yes.” There was a dangerous lilt to his tone, “but I can live with that. Can you?”
“As long as you don’t lock me in the dungeons again.” Isabelle joked, his grip tightened, and she felt his long, hot tongue drag up the side of her neck lasciviously.
“A year at my beck and call Isabelle, and you might be begging for the solitude.”
“I could say the same to you.” She challenged a smirk on her red lips.
“You’re incorrigible.”
“And you’re stuck with me” she smiled brightly, “forever.”
∞ ∞ ∞
Epilogue
Isabelle pulled away from the swirling figures on the dancefloor, the music and chatter filled the enormous space of the ballroom. This was when she was happiest, gazing out over His Kingdom. Their Kingdom. Her Kingdom. A hand on her swollen stomach for support, she moved effortlessly through the dancers, all of whom stepped aside effortlessly for their Queen, before falling back into step as if she had never left. This monthly dress up had been her creation, her tireless effort to apologise for stealing their freedom. All the same faces, farmers, servants, all granted reprieve of their duty to play dress up, dancing around like aristocrats whilst the servants littered the edges, waiting upon their usual equals with bended knee.
The Beast sat on his throne, one enormous leg loped over the side, fearsome head resting against the intricately carved wood. Claws nestled within the divots caused during the many, many nights of this. Sometimes he would dance, but mostly he sat there and watched Isabelle dance and swirl. All players in their perverse show of courtly perfection.
Not tonight though.
Tonight, something was different.
In her years here, she forgot how many had passed now, she had learnt every face. Every gait. That happened when you were trapped out of time, existing endlessly with a finite amount of people. What she had seen that had drawn her from her matching smaller throne, crafted perfectly for them as a wedding gift, was a new face. A dark figure, hood drawn over their head. She’d felt the eyes on her from her seat, but the figure vanished into the crowd.
Isabelle reached the edge of the ballroom, the doors were open, the cool air from the rest of the castle wafting in to mitigate the stifling heat of a room filled with candles and bodies. She stepped into the corridor and the chill bit at her arms, she rubbed them gingerly, wishing she’d brought her fur shawl.
“Hello?” She called. The dark corridors held no fear or mystery for her anymore, she could hardly remember a time when they did. Silence echoed back, s
omebody had definitely come this way. Isabelle knew it. She could feel it, and though she couldn’t explain why, it was undeniable, something was new. She took a few more steps, the baby inside her stomach kicked and shifted its protest to her moving, eliciting a tender smile from her lips.
Had they left?
Isabelle made her way to the great doors, pulling one open she stared out into the bleak, swirling whiteness.
Nobody.
“You’ll catch your death standing there.”
Isabelle spun to face the new voice, in time to watch the woman pull the dark hood down, revealing vibrant red curls and a beautiful porcelain face.
“Who are you?”
“Who you are is more important.” The woman’s voice was as smooth as honey, Isabelle scowled.
“I know who I am. I order you to tell me your name.”
“My name is Freya, but that won’t help you. We don’t have enough time.” She breathed; Isabelle scoffed.
“We have all the time in the world, that’s one thing this castle is never short of.”
“But it’s wrong.” Freya hissed, “don’t you see? Don’t you feel it?”
“What do you mean?” Isabelle placed a hand on her belly, standing was making her back ache.
“How long have you been pregnant?”
“I...” Isabelle faltered. There had been a time they had anticipated the baby’s arrival month after month, preparing the nursery, keeping her rested and confined, prepared for an imminent labour. Month after month the baby failed to come, and though it still kicked away happily inside her, healthy and strong, she’d forgotten how long exactly.
“This isn’t your happily ever after Isabelle. This isn’t right, none of this,” Freya gestured wildly to the castle, “none of this should be happening.”
“Erik chose this…”
“It was never his choice. You shouldn’t still be trapped, this isn’t what I made you for.”
“You’re saying that I should be dead.” Isabelle bristled, “I don’t know how you got here, but I’d like you to leave.” She made to walk past Freya, but the other woman grabbed her arm. A pain ripped through her stomach and Isabelle doubled over.
“If you want your baby to survive, if you want any of this to survive, you have to come with me.”
“Come with you where?” Isabelle replied sharply, catching her breath after the pain, “there is nowhere to go. Just here. Just now.” Her sentence was lost to another pain.
“You can feel it can’t you.”
“Is my baby dying?” Isabelle asked, unsure why she was asking a stranger, but terror was overtaking her senses.
“The world is dying Isabelle, and I need you to help me save it.”
“What?”
“Something is coming, something evil, it’s stealing the happiness, tainting everything, it’s already stolen your happily ever after, you need to help save every happy ending before they’re all gone.”
“Who are you?”
“I’ll explain everything, but right now, you need to come with me. The magic that’s holding this place together is collapsing. Can’t you feel it?”
“Please stop this.”
“I’m going to, but I need your help. If you want to save Erik, your people, your baby, you need to come with me.”
Freya outstretched a hand, it was so pale and slender, it looked like it was made of china.
“I need Erik.”
“There’s no time Isabelle, I’m sorry. You need to come. The world is falling apart. Listen.”
There was silence. No music. No people. The world swam in and out of focus. “Take my hand.”
“I can’t.”
“You can. You must. You were made for this Isabelle, I made you for this.”
“You keep saying that. Who are you?” Isabelle faltered. Red hair. Witches. “You’re the witch? You cursed Erik.”
“I did more than that Isabelle, I gave you life, I gave you to your parents, and now it’s time for you to come back to me.” Isabelle should have doubted it, she should have questioned it. How could it be possible that this woman was her own age and yet claimed to be there before her birth, to have been here in this exact castle, centuries ago?
But she couldn’t. Her mind swam in two places, one was the dark cold castle she was standing in, the other was filled with light, golden-haired children running through the palace and such familiar eyes smiling at her. Erik’s eyes. Erik’s human eyes. “Realities are colliding, crashing together and falling to the depths of darkness.” Isabelle whimpered through another pain.
“My head.” Isabelle tried to shake the miasma away, to think.
“I can’t be here much longer; it’s pulling your reality apart. I have to go.”
“You’re doing this?”
“I wouldn’t be here if I had any choice. Time is slipping, slowly, but slipping. That’s why your baby has grown, magic is fading. Your baby is coming, if it’s born here, he will die. You will all die.”
“He’s a boy?” Isabelle placed a hand on her stomach.
“Isabelle.” The honied voice had changed now, it was sharp, commanding. Isabelle looked into steadfast, violet eyes. “Come.”
“Will you bring me back?”
“Yes.”
Isabelle looked at the proffered hand, looked back to Freya, closed her eyes and took it.
Nothing happened, but the pain stopped, and her mind became clearer.
When she dared open her eyes, she was standing in the ruins of a castle. The sun was shining overhead, half a door hung open behind her. Her eyes widened.
“This is my castle.”
“It was, once.”
Remembering the pain, her attention fell to her stomach. She poked a bit, and the baby inside responded with a kick. Relief flooded her. The baby was okay.
“What now?”
“Now,” Freya pulled her hood up, “now we find the others.”
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Finally, thank you so much for reading The Beast Queen. It means so much to me that you spent your time reading something I wrote – without you these would just be pointless words on a page, with you it became a story. I am honoured. If you could take another few minutes and leave a review it would mean the world to me, it doesn’t have to be much, even a few words would warm my heart. Thank you again. – Flick ♥
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[FH1]Added some incesty undertones.
[FH2]Need something that’s not fuck.
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