Cursed

27. Daurien and the Truth

"Aside from that, yes." Belle studied the rose and seemed to be in deep thought for a moment as she flipped it over in her hands a few times. She looked up at me, confused.

"You have mentioned the peculiarity in the past and at the time I refrained from supplying you with a proper answer." Her change of expression was so abrupt I barely caught it before she spoke.

"There aren't any thorns," she mused.

"Correct."

"Well..."she prodded as I momentarily regained my resolve. No Daurien, she deserves to know.

"The reason they do not have thorns is because I have thorns."

"I don't understand."

"I was horrible."

"What do you mean?" I gave a resigned sigh and resolved to explain. There was no going back now.

"Avery long time ago I had subjects. They were starving and sick and I neglected them. They were mine to rule and I treated them..." I swallowed uncomfortably, "No one deserves to be treated the way I treated my subjects." I looked down at my paws, not wanting to make eye contact. I was ashamed.

"What does that have to do with thornless roses?" she asked, and although there wasn't a hint of judgement in her voice, I could not bring myself to make eye contact.

"I used to be a rose with hidden thorns, but then I was transformed into a thistly weed, thorns displayed for all to see."

"You weren't always like this." It was more of a statement than a question but I answered nonetheless.

"No,I wasn't."

"You were a man."

"Yes."

"And because you were cruel you became like this."

"BecauseI was cruel, I was punished. I was turned into this horrible beast that I am and cursed to live this way forever." I still hadn't lifted my gaze from my paws, that is until a small hand made its presence known to mine. It really was absolutely puny, especially when placed on top of mine as it currently was. She squeezed my paw and I finally dared a glance to her chestnut eyes.

"Stop it," she commanded almost angrily. It was the least expected reaction I could have anticipated. I might have sucked in a startled breath, "I can't take your self loathing! There is nothing to loath! So you used to be this awful guy. So you hurt a lot of people. Well stop wallowing in your self pity and look at what you have become."

"I–"

"I am not finished. You aren't cruel, you even leave out food for the rats that come by the manor for crying out loud. You are you are a brilliant intellectual not to mention kind and sweet, and caring and considerate, attentive..." she had gotten quite passionate in her speech. Her cheeks were of a pinker shade and she was breathing heavily. She was also cutting off the blood circulation from my paw.

"You don't hate me?" and in response she scoffed and released my paw. She looked a little sheepish, though I could not tell if it was due to how passionate she had become or how tightly she had held my paw.

"Quite the contrary, actually," and I didn't think I would ever again hear four such relieving words. Suddenly a strange urge came upon me. She had to see everything. And everything meant everything.

"Belle,"I said hesitantly as I stood from my armchair, "I wish to show you something." I held out my paw to her and she took it without a word. I helped her to her feet and did not release her delicate hand as I began to lead her toward the west wing. My heart was pounding as loud as a war drum but I was no longer sure of the reason. Was it because I was showing her something I hadn't seen myself for hundreds of years or because I was simply holding her hand? Close proximity to Belle tended to have that effect on me. Though really, the former was a perfectly reasonable explanation as well.

We reached the west wing and I looked down at Belle to gauge her reaction. She looked up at me with plain curiosity. No hate, no fear, no disgust. I cleared my throat and reached around my neck for the key. I unlocked the door and led her through the threshold. Inside it was pitch black aside from the area surrounding the enchanted rose.

"Candle,"Belle chirped and released my hand. She was back within moments from the other side of the door with a brightly lit candle and smoothly settled her hand back into my hold. Much to my delighted surprise.

I pulled her forward still with shot nerves to my designated brooding area. There it was, the painting I despised most in all of RoseManor, strategically placed over the saggiest, least comfortable part of the tattered loveseat. My favorite spot for wallowing in self pity.

It was the only painting left of me. I hadn't so much as taken a peek at it since I had had the black cloth draped over it to keep it from view. I gestured to Belle to hand me the candle and she gave it tome willingly. I held it up to the painting and hoped she would understand. The paw holding the candle had begun to shake uncontrollably. Belle looked at the painting, then and me and then back at the painting. Her hand rose to remove the cloth.