The Beast smiled at her, and laid down in the bed next to her. His weight made the mattress sink a bit, and she rolled next to his body, cuddling up to him.
“I never doubted you were a virgin, Belle,” he said, “but that doesn’t matter to me. I care about who you are now, not what you might have done in the past.”
“I care about who you are, too,” she whispered. “And not about what you might have done in the past.”
Images of him coming back to the castle late at night, fresh from a kill, haunted her, but she pushed them back. He was changed.
“Beauty, I never thought I’d be lucky enough to find you. But I’m a monster for how I’ve kept you against your will. I know you miss your father, and that you want to see him.”
Belle froze, uncertain what to say, or what to do. Of course she wanted to see her father, but she also didn’t want to leave the Beast (or Frederick).
The two wants conflicted horribly.
“I have a way for you to see your Papa, Belle,” the Beast said softly. “Would you like that?”
Belle hesitated. Was this a trick? But no, her Beast had never tricked her, never lied to her. So she nodded.
“I need the looking glass,” Beast said, to the fairies, she presumed.
In his hand appeared an ornate, hand-held looking glass. It was beautiful. Belle smiled wistfully. Yes, she knew she looked a bit like her Papa, but viewing her reflection in a mirror was not quite the same as seeing her father. Still, the Beast was attempting to show her kindness, so she was willing to cooperate, if only to please him.
“Here, Beauty,” he said, lying next to her, cuddled on the bed. He handed her the mirror (which was surprisingly heavy) and she held it up, gazing into it. “Tell the looking glass what you want to see, and it will show you.”
“I want… I want to see my Papa,” she whispered.
The looking glass hazed over, as if she’d breathed on it while outside on a winter day, and then as if the summer sun hit the glass, it cleared, and she saw… her Papa!
“Oh Lord in Heaven,” she gasped. “Papa, Papa can you hear me?”
“He can’t hear you, nor see you,” the Beast said. “It is just a way for you to view him. If you listen carefully, you might be able to hear him if he speaks, as well.”
“He looks terrible,” she said sadly.
Her Papa was lying in an unfamiliar bed, staring at the ceiling with wide, vacant eyes. One of his wrists, she saw now, was chained to the bedrail at his side.
“Oh, Papa, what have they done to you?” she wailed. “He must have gone insane with worry for me.”
Then one of Constable’s men walked into the room her Papa was being kept in, and unlocked the chain. Her Papa stood, unsteady on his feet, and bowed his head.
“I didn’t kill my daughter,” he said to the floor. The officer took no notice.
“The people will decide your fate, Mr. Castelle,” the man said. “You don’t need to try and convince me. Belle is missing, and feared dead. Who else but you, with your crazy stories of a Beast, would have committed such a terrible, unnatural crime?”
Belle touched the glass, wishing she could transcend through it and into the room with them, to show them that she was here, she was alive!
“Beast,” she said turning to him, frantic. “I need to get my Papa out of there! If the Constable can just see that I am well, not murdered, then he will have no choice but to free my father.”
The Beast took the mirror from her hands and set it down, his anguished expression nearly matching her own.
“I don’t know what to say, Belle. I thought seeing your Papa would bring you joy… I didn’t mean for this to happen.”
“But it did,” she whispered. “It happened.”
“I didn’t realize that they would charge him with crimes he didn’t commit.” He paused, for a long moment, as if turning the options over in his head.
“If you let me go make this right, I will return within a week, I swear on my life.”
The Beast winced as if he’d been slapped. “No, Belle. No. You mustn’t say that.”
“But I do swear, Beast, I do!”
When something like that is spoken inside an enchanted castle, the castle listens. The castle would make it happen.
“No!” he roared, for Belle did not realize the power of her promise. “Swear on my life, Beauty. Swear on my life instead.” The Beast’s words were seeped in desperation.
“Please, Beast, Sir, please,” she begged. “Let me go to him. Give me your blessing.”
But the Beast grabbed hold of her hand, as if to keep her there forever.