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“We’ve looked after him all his life.”
“But he’s cursed you somehow, you did nothing,” Belle said. Those words dragged a sharp blade across my skin, and if I didn’t believe I deserved every bit of the pain, I would’ve stopped her from talking. Mrs. Potts’ voice pulled me out of my darkening thoughts: “You see, dear, when the Master lost his mother, and his father took that sweet, innocent lad and twisted him up to be just like him… we did nothing.”
A short pause followed but the voices of my past were getting louder with each tick of Cogsworth’s mechanical body.
The small gathering at my bed, made of familiar voices that once belonged to different faces and the girl that treated my wounds, discussed plenty of matters about life in this castle before everything went cold. I’m slowly forgetting how they used to look. Assuming I was asleep, they mentioned my… the man who called himself my father. They expressed great desires to be free once again. With Belle here, I know they were getting more hopeful than ever before. They also spoke of that forsaken flower, quietly wilting and counting our days. “The curse can indeed be broken, yes!” Cogsworth remarked, but was quickly hushed by the others.
I can’t deny that Belle has been kinder to me than I deserve. If not for my hideousness, now certainly for how I lashed out on her, and let her run off right into the depth of the forest. They’re very committed to this. Do they really expect her to break this spell? Have they completely forgotten what has become of me, or do they think of her blind? Afterall, she's right. I cursed us all. I could not listen to them any longer... It's hopeless.
With eyes firmly shut and a desperate wish for silence, I tried my best to fall asleep.
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But he's cursed you somehow, you did nothing.
When Adam slowly descended into slumber, images of his past filled his tired, unconscious mind. Bad dreams haunted him often, even long before his fateful transformation. Some of them took him to his childhood, outside of the castle, and reminded him of how much he enjoyed horseback riding lessons. That is until somebody deemed them unnecessary, and he was prohibited from attending them entirely. Some were filled with scenes from his glamourous parties, although - within these dreams - they never had that pleasant outcome the real ones usually did. (Or atleast painted a convincing illusion of it.)
Many of his dreams took place in the grand bedroom he slept in as a boy, and in which he rests now after being injured.
When he was little, his mother gave him a small wooden horse. She had it carved for him as a gift, and painted it herself: with blue and white ornaments. Adam loved that carving very much. Despite having many toys to choose from, this horse meant a lot to him. He played with it often, yet was very careful never to damage it.
After his mother fell ill, and young Adam was left devastated by her passing, he kept this horse ever closer - being one of the very few things that remained after her and that was only his. It was hard for him to comprehend that there was only this small carving to remind him of her irreplaceable presence.
Sometimes he talked to it, just like he’d talk to her back when she was around.
As Adam grew older, his cruel father became more and more repulsive of him keeping it, and even sometimes sleeping next to it. Many times he pointed it out to him that he should get rid of that piece of wood, and that he was too old to play with toys. Adam did not understand, he felt as if his mother left a piece of herself in it. This ‘toy’ meant everything to him. Why would he want to take it away? Didn’t he love her too?
After months of going back and forth, being harassed and belittled for keeping the horse, Adam decided to lie to him about complying, and indeed throwing it away for good. It was safer this way. His father seemed to hate everything that reminded him of his wife… sometimes even Adam himself, he thought - for he was, perhaps, the biggest reminder around. He hid his wooden horse underneath the bed and asked the ever so kind Mrs. Potts not to tell anyone. She understood. In fact, many members of the staff saw how his father treated him, yet were too powerless to do anything against it. The king seemed satisfied that Adam finally listened to him, saying how becoming too soft and caring isn’t fit for powerful men.
One winter evening, when dinner was over and the castle was getting ready to sleep, Adam stayed up just a bit longer to fully look at his precious carving. He sat on the bed and reminisced of the past he’d so greatly missed.
Three pronounced knocks interrupted his sorrow-filled memories, and after the handle clicked, his father entered the bedroom.
He had some important things to say, of course. Adam expected no less than more lessons and a judgemental summary of his study performance. He was used to this and was ready to listen to whatever would be said. Unfortunately, he wasn’t ready to hide the horse carving. Clumsily, Adam threw a pillow over it, but to his misfortune, not quickly enough. The king frowned upon sighting this, and in that moment, the spacious room felt like it was caving in on him.
The child became desperate and incredibly fearful of what was to come next. Taking the little horse in his palm, he begged: “Father, please - I promise I’ll throw it away in the morning-” But no words were returned. Walking next to the bed, the father snatched the carving from his hand and gazed at it with disgust, throwing it into the fireplace without a second thought. Upon impact, the layers of flammable paint and lacquer caught fire in a blink of an eye, engulfing it completely.
“No!” Adam ran towards the enraged flames. “How could you…” he shouted, tears painting streaks on his youthful cheeks. Standing there next to his son - almost moved by his pained sobs, the king collected himself with haste. He wouldn’t let this attitude slide, nor did he stand for his own son lying to him. He had to learn this lesson. ‘One day, he’ll understand.’
He’s to become monarch, a true ruler. He could not allow him to be weak and let his emotions stir him. His son crossed the line, and for that, there could be no mercy, no unnecessary compassion.
‘One day he’d understand,’ the father repeated to himself again.
Yet Adam never understood. This evening only became one of many bricks the Young Prince built his tall walls with. 'A man of noble blood, a future king, must not be weak.' Losing this beloved keepsake almost felt like losing his mother all over again. No studies were judged that night. The only thing that followed were the father’s cold final words: “A man must not reminisce pointlessly because, Adam, let me tell you this. There is only that which lies ahead!”
A loud, echoing slam of the door woke me up abruptly, and I quickly shot my sight towards it. Realizing it came from the dream that periodically visits to torture me, I exhaled with a shudder. Even today, I still feel the heatspike on my face from when the carving burned. Everybody who stood here moments ago had already left, and I noticed the sun had set beneath the horizon entirely.
I miss her… I really do.
She always filled this place with so much joy and delight. My mother made it feel like home, and now she’s a ghost that remains within these prison-like walls that once protected me. If she was here, things would be different. If she was there that night, I wouldn’t have damned us all to a frightening end… I felt tears gathering at the edges of my eyes.
“How did I deserve losing you? You promised you’d never leave…”
An anguished whisper filled the air of the Beast’s bedroom, hoping to be heard by nobody downstairs but begging for an answer to be whispered back.