The Beast's Captive (Wicked Fairy Tales)

Breakfast

A scream filled Arabelle’s ears. She tossed her head from side to side, trying to pinpoint where it was coming from. 

“Belle!” The high pitched voice shrieked. “Belle, help me! Come quick! Belle please! Anyone please!”

Arabelle ran down the stairs, holding her dress up so she wouldn't trip. “Belle!” The voice cried again, half sobbing. She could hear a struggle ahead. 

“I’m coming Cassie, where are you?” Arabelle cried out. She was coming towards the front of the house now, the foyer in front of the great doors. There she was, spread across the rug, held down by the chair and wardrobe that had attacked Arabelle, but also by a table and an ottoman. 

Cassie’s dress was ripped and she struggled as she was splayed, spread eagle by the furniture. She whimpered and struggled, A shadow moving towards her. The beast, even bigger than he seemed in Arabelle's room earlier, stood over her. He grinned sinisterly. 

“No!” Arabelle reached out, but the cabinet behind her came to life and restrained her. “No- no-! We agreed! Take me instead!”

The beast laughed, a low and heartless chuckle. It made his chest heave and the room shake. “You’ve been soiled. I don't want you any longer. The deal is off. I’ve had your father for dinner and now I’m having your sister for dessert!”

He wrapped his clawed hands around her hips and pulled her naked, exposed crotch to his, and an ever growing bulge beginning to appear.  

Arabelle screamed as his hand moved to free himself from his pants, struggling to get free from the cabinet that held her. 

Everything went dark.

“Are you okay miss?” said a voice. It was feminine and kind and caring. Arabelle sat up, her dress falling down one shoulder. It took her a moment to shake off the dream and gain her bearings.

“Yes yes-” she rubbed her eyes, seeing a stout dresser sitting in front of her. The wooden thing smiled from her mouth, made of the middle drawer. 

“It's time for breakfast my dear.” She said. “Clean yourself up, the bathroom is that door there-” she gestured to a door at the other end of the room that Arabella had previously thought was a closet. “Here’s something to wear.”

The dresser opened up a drawer and showed a pile of clothes folded for Ara. She took the clothes and slid off the bed.

The floor was cold against her bare feet as she made her way to the bathroom. She creeped wordlessly past the living furniture that brought her clothes, still wary of the unnatural beings. The dresser gave her a hurt look.

She slipped into the spacious bathroom. It was well lit through a stain glass window, and she saw the clawfoot tub. It was already filled with warm water and blue petals. Next to the tub was a bowl of pink salts. She squinted at the tub, poked it a few times.

She dropped her dress, but before she got in she reeled forward and have the tub a hard kick. “Ow! Damn!” She gasped, hoping on one foot while she held the other.

“Are you okay miss?” The dresser asked, from the door.

“Quite alright.” Arabelle groaned. The tub was definitely just a tub.

She slowly melted into the water, and it felt great against her sore muscles. She felt the heat sinking all the way into her. She ladled in some of the oiled salt, feeling it absorb into her pale skin. She ran her fingers down her body, slick from the soapy water. 

She had just lathered up her hair when she felt her stomach growl. She hadn't eaten anything the previous night and she was overwhelmingly hungry. 

She hurried through rinsing her hair and brushed it through with her fingers as she dried off. She looked at the clothes laid out for her. The dress was soft white cotton. She slid it on, fingering the white lace trim. Along with it was a folded blue wool cardigan. She slid that on too. There was also a ribbon for her hair, but it was thick enough to tie around her waist as a belt. 

She slowly opened the door.

The dresser lady gasped. “Oh my! Oh how lovely! Oh!” She gushed. “How lovely.” 

Arabelle smiled shyly, but faltered. She had to remind herself that she was a prisoner in this house, not a guest. The dresser, Lothima as she introduced herself, escorted Ara downstairs. She could see various ‘servants’ whirling around like a tornado as they prepared breakfast. There was a stout wood stove, a small silver table, various hat racks and candlesticks, all adding plates to the table.

Then they all froze as she made her way down the stairs. They were staring, some in adoration, some with hopeful expressions, and some with lustful gaze.

At the head of the table was the beast. Ara swallowed hard when she saw him, the strength fading from her legs. She felt wobbly, but she couldn't let him see that. She straightened her back and found a seat at the table with grace.

The beast seemed to avoid meeting her eyes, but Arabelle noticed him stealing glances when she wasn't looking. Food was brought to her, a heaping plate of cured meat and jellied toast, but the knot in her stomach made her hesitate. Was it poisoned? No, he wanted her alive. That was for sure. Like a pet- or-

Or a wife, she thought grimly.

She tensed. She had had enough of guessing, of waiting in fear for what was about to happen to her. She clenched her fists and looked up at him, slapping the food away. It crashed loudly to the floor, and the appliances that were attending to the meal gasped.

"What do you want from me?" She demanded, trying not to let her voice shake.

Emotions passed over his face. Curiosity, confusion, annoyance, and then anger.

"Is it not enough that I gave you a beautiful room? Not enough that I've fed you? Kept you safe?" He slammed his fists on the table. "I cannot expect you to understand my reasons, but you made a deal. You signed your life to me, and you will not make demands!"

"I'm not a dog, to be won over by food and attention!" Her chair made an unpleasant noise as she stood up, scraping across the floor. The beast winced. Then, slowly, he stood up as well, growling slightly.

"Master-" a side table nervously interjected. "Master we need her, please."

He marched over to her, slowly and purposefully. His expression was tight, like he was trying to remain patient.

"Finish your meal. Not for my sake, but for yours. Then, join me in the library and I will answer all your questions. Understood?" He said, evenly. 

Ara nodded. The harshness was out of his voice, the gruff frustration he had spoken with before had faded. He left without another word, and Lothima joined her at the table. 

"The master really is nothing to be afraid of, dear heart. No harm will befall you. Just be patient with him." The stout dresser said.

More food was brought to Ara, and her face flushed with guilt at how childish she had acted. The cutlery was cleaning her mess, a sentient broom helping sweep up. "I'm sorry." She told them. "I shouldn't have lost my temper."

They all smiled up at her before scurrying away.

Ara ate her toast first, and it was delicious. She moaned as she took another bite. "Lothima, these preserves are so good!"

The portly maid laughed, and it was a comforting, motherly sound. "We harvested those blackberries ourselves, miss."

She finished her meal and excused herself, finding her way to the library. It was a wonderful room, two stories, with a fireplace and lounges. It smelled lovely from the aged parchment. Arabelle had always loved books. She loved to read, to learn, but her father always insisted it was a waste of time. He groomed her to be a perfect wife, the apple of his eye who would one day fetch a hearty dowry. Ara snuck whatever books she could into her room, to read at night after her father had gone to bed. 

But now she was surrounded by tomes upon tomes of every genre of literature, and her eyes twinkled as she took in the library in awe.

In the back was an open door, and light spilled from it. The beasts study.

"Come in." He called out to her, and she obliged.

He sat behind a great oak desk, staring at her from over metal rimmed glasses. She stared back, the silence stretching between them like a stagnant ocean. After a minute, he cleared his throat. "Your questions?"

"Oh!" Ara startled slightly, having forgotten in his overbearing presence why she had come to talk to him. "I wish to know what you want from me."

He huffed. "Help." He barked, exasperated. "The servants are diligent in their work, but they need guidance. Someone to oversee them. I tire of spending my days watching over them. There are things I must do."

She considered this for a moment. "You could easily have hired someone for this."

"I did." He answered, shortly. "Your father had a massive gambling debt. He saw my posting in town looking for help, and he sold me his daughter."

The shock hit Ara like a slap to the face. "No, you stole Cassie. You kidnapped her! My father would never!"

The beast gave her a pointed look, but he remained composed. "Who told you that? If I came to town, wouldn't anyone other than your father have seen me? Your sister, she went missing in broad daylight, but no one saw me take her. That is of course because your father brought her here to me."

Arabelle didn't want to believe what she was hearing, but it made sense. Everyone found it odd that her father claimed the beast took Cassie, yet no one saw the beast himself. Furthermore, when Ara made the plan to come to the beast's castle to save her sister, her father had begged- no, forbidden her to go.

Her hands fiddled with the hem of her dress. "You paid my father for Cassie?"

He nodded. "Handsomely. For a year of service. After that, your sister would be freed."

Silence fell on the room again. Many moment's passed as Arabelle digested this information. "Then a deal is a deal. I took my sister's place, so I will work for you for a year." Ara answered, confidently.

The beast looked surprised. "You… you will?" His eyes met hers for the first time. They were a deep golden brown, but there was something more behind them. Something human, and intelligent and kind.

Ara nodded. The anger she felt was no longer directed at the beast, but at her father. He had always favored Ara over Cassie. "Yes, of course master. You spared my sister. So for the next year, I will serve you."

The beast took a sudden breath in, like he had placed his hand on a hot stove. His eyes changed, the golden kindness gone. His pupils were wide, almost all black and completely animalistic. Suddenly, Ara was very afraid. What had she done wrong? Had she misspoke?

He leapt from his chair, and Ara started to move backwards, away from him. Before long, he was inches away from her, and she was pressed, back up against the wall. He looked down at her, hunched so his face was closer to hers. “Say it again.” his voice was husky and low, assertive, but not angered or aggressive.

“For- for the next year, I will serve you.” Ara whispered.

“I will serve you what?” he asked, and it took a moment for Ara to realize what he wanted to hear.

Her voice was low as she answered, breathy. “I will serve you, master.” 

He breathed in sharply again. His furry hand rose to her face, and stroked up her cheek, so she was looking at him. His other arm was pressed against the wall over her head. He was a cage around her, and she was utterly trapped. He leaned close, his lips close to her ear. She could feel his breath, smell his scent. It was intoxicatingly pleasant, like fresh hay in a stable, or grass after the rain.

“Are you afraid of me?” he asked, his own voice breathy and unsure.

She took a breath and answered honestly. “Yes.”

~~~