Beldon lay there for a long moment, his legs still in the library, his torso inside the wall.
He blinked and slowly turned himself over, wincing, rubbing the back of his head. He'd landed on thick uneven stone that hadn't seen light or contact in a long time if the amount of dust that settled on him was anything to go by.
Grimacing, he looked up to see where he had fallen and his hand dropped, his eyes widening.
From the light of the library, he could just make out the last few steps of a stone staircase that spiralled up out of sight.
Slowly getting to his feet, dropping the book back into the library, he stepped forwards, taking the first few steps up the stairway and looking up around the corner. Torches on the walls flared to life, illuminating the way for him, making him jump.
He stared for a moment, then looked back towards the doorway. It didn't look like it would close. Looking up again, he hesitated for just a moment, before sweeping up the stairs, looping upwards, hallways branching off the stairway each time he reached a new floor.
He stepped into one of the hallways on the forth floor and walked along it, the firelight very dim here but enough for him see by.
Though not enough for him to see the huge spider web he walked straight into – spider attached – making him jolt in disgust, spinning around, pulling it off him and backing straight into a wall.
There was a clank by his right ear and he looked around, confused. His eyebrows rose and he spun around to the wall.
A slot in the wall had opened a crack.
Sliding his finger into the gap, he slid it aside and looked through the tiny space. His eyes widened. He was looking into one of his music rooms on the forth floor. He didn't use it but it was the one he had found all the violins in – which he had moved down to the second floor music room.
He pulled back and looked down the hall. Closing the slot, he moved down the corridor, feeling for the next slot, pulling it open when he found it. As he thought, he was looking into one of the lounge rooms. So these corridors probably ran all the way through the castle.
He peered through the slot, finding the clock on the mantelpiece. He still had a little time. He closed the slot and kept going, coming across more stairs, going up and down through the rooms and floors. Some rooms he looked in through the walls, some from the floors – seeing the rooms by cleverly placed mirrors he had never noticed before – and some he looked down on from their ceilings.
He made his way through the corridors, looking into rooms every now and then to figure out where he was – the corridors didn't quite line up with the rooms after all depending on how he looked into them – until he opened a slot and looked through and he didn't recognise the room before him.
Lit by moonlight, he could make out a broken piano and tore drapes.
He stared for a moment, then pulled back, eyes wide. He could see into the locked rooms of the West Wing with these tunnels, whoever had locked the doors hadn't covered the slots. Then again, he probably wasn't supposed to be here to find the slots.
He was just about to continue, when he heard a clock strike nearby. He spun around, it was a quarter to seven and he still needed to get back. He wouldn't have time to get ready at this rate.
Racing away back through the halls, he peered through the slot of the first room in his wing and stopped, thinking for a moment, then he ran and took the first right he could find, going down another flight and turning left then right again.
He came to a dead end and almost ran into the wall, his hands flying across the stone, until his fingertips struck a bit of rock that didn't feel right. He pressed it and the wall slid away.
He fell through the opening, rolling up into a crouch and looked behind him as the wall slid closed again, silent as anything – he would have to check to see if the library door had slid closed after him as well.
He looked around. He had fallen into one of the small indoor gardens in his rooms.
He let out a breath and straightened up, brushing roughly at his clothes and hair as he walked into the main room.
Vanessa, who had been folding a shirt nearby, jumped at the sight of him, dropping the clothes.
"Bel! I didn't hear you come in," she said, quickly picking up the shirt again.
"I just got back," he started but was cut off when Vanessa saw the state of him.
"Heavens! What have you been doing?!" she cried, dropping the shirt a second time. "You're filthy! Oh you don't have time to bathe; you have to change, quickly, quickly."
She shooed him into the dressing room and he quickly changed out of his clothes, grabbing fresh attire and was grabbing a dark red coat when Iago knocked on the door.
He knew Iago raised an eyebrow at him even without being able to see his face.
"You look somewhat..."
"Messy?" Beldon supplied for him.
"Rushed, is the word I was going to use, Sir," Iago said as they made their way down the halls.
"That I would be," Beldon said, untying his hair and running his fingers through it before tying it back at the base of his neck, it was the best he could do. It wasn't as if The Beast ever looked at him anyway.
Walking into the dining hall he set his coat on the back of his chair – he found he grew too hot with the coat on all dinner, – took his seat and picked up his glass, not realising how thirsty he had been.
The Beast was already at his seat but Beldon had heard the clock chime when he had sat down so he knew he was on time.
Silence fell as Beldon ate, his mind running through the hidden corridors, trying to remember the different twists and turns and see how they all fit into the layout of the castle.
"You're quiet."
Beldon jumped, looking up. "Excuse me?"
"You haven't said anything since you entered, this is a first," The Beast commented.
"Oh," Beldon said, shaking his head, focusing on where he was. "Well, you always say you like silence."
The Beast went quiet.
Beldon turned back to his food and proceeded to ask the same usual four questions and was given the same four questions.
"Do you actually care?" he asked, instead of describing his day.
"Excuse me?"
"Do you actually care about what I do with my day? You say no when I ask if you would like to know and then listen without complaint and you even asked me a question about it yesterday. So do you or do you not care?"
The Beast was quiet for a moment and Beldon contemplated throwing a bread roll at him just to see if he'd do something.
"How are you fencing sessions going?" The Beast asked.
Beldon stared at him. He had asked his own question with no lead in from Beldon. He smiled slightly.
"They're alright, Julius is struggling to keep up however."
This clearly caught The Beast by surprise. "Julius? But he is one of the best swordsmen here."
"I did say that I'm rather good at it," Beldon said absently, resting his cheek on his knuckles as he poured a glass of water.
"Iago will find you another partner."
"I don't mind Julius," Beldon said, "He's good company. A friend it seems."
"A friend? A servant?"
Beldon closed his eyes. "One cannot be that picky in confinement," he said simply, then opened his eyes a little, watching The Beast through his lashes. "Besides, I have no idea whether my family has returned to their original position yet, for all I know, I might be no higher class then your servants, just a poor young man from the countryside."
The Beast shifted in his seat and Beldon closed his eyes again.
"Julius tells me you're a good swordsman though," he said, "wouldn't you care to be my partner? It will give you something to do with your days. They can't be that interesting, I never see you around after all."
The sound of The Beast standing up so fast that his chair crashed to the floor had Beldon jolting in fright, vaulting out of his chair, eyes snapping up, looking around wildly, finding The Beast turned on him, cat-eyes reflecting cruelly in the firelight.
"What?" Beldon said, taking a step backwards.
"Julius has no right to tell you anything about me," The Beast snarled, stalking forwards, making Beldon back up all the way until he collided with a wall. "And you have no right to comment on how I spent my days!" The Beast shouted, slamming his hands against the walls on either side of Beldon's head, towering over him.
Beldon pressed himself back against the wall, his eyes wide in horror as he stared up into the shadowed face, seeing nothing by glowing eyes.
His mouth worked soundlessly for a moment as his body shook, then, barely above a whisper, he managed to say, "I know nothing, because you do not tell me anything."
The Beast let out a low growl, leaning down, making Beldon turn his face away, closing his eyes, his shoulders curling in.
"I spend my days seeking Beauty, the one who can break this curse. I have no time to spend it with you and your games. You're better placed with the servants."
Beldon shivered when he felt The Beast's warm breath against his neck, cringing away.
"Humph," The Beast muttered, "Finding relationships with servants though born with noble blood. It must run in the family to find where you belong in those below you... How pathetic."
Beldon's eyes snapped open at that and he whirled around, slamming his hands into The Beast's chest and shoving him back with all his strength, sending him metres back, fast enough to almost make him lose his footing, clearly surprising The Beast but Beldon didn't care as he pushed away from the wall, his hands in fists.
They stood there in silence for a long, long time, watching each other, both with muscles coiled tightly. Beldon wasn't stupid though; he wasn't going to fight with a monster so much taller and broader then him.
Instead, his eyes narrowed and he straightened.
"I see why you do not have friends," he said slowly, ice lacing into his tone. The Beast straightened and Beldon walked back to his seat, snatching up his coat and walking to the doors, wrenching one open and looking back. "Whatever your curse, Beast, you probably deserve it," he said darkly and slammed the door closed behind him.