Beauty and The Beasley

Chapter 38

It was something of a dream when Frances walked into the castle a second time. So many things were happening all at once that it was difficult to look everywhere and see everyone. On his far left, a bunch of guards had shackled Anita and Joseph next to each other with strong metal chains while the pair dozed off. Behind them, a flood of men in green armor stood in the longest straight line with their heads low whilst King Adam addressed them. Frances smiled as the King gestured calmly while he spoke. If there was one thing Adam was good at, it was making people feel the pressure and consequences of their actions but like, in a good way. He could bet those men felt like crying but held together.

In another part of the large throne room, François held on to Antoinette who was now standing up straight by some miracle. She no longer gazed on the floor. Her teary eyes were focused on three people in front of her - Belle, Bree and Melinda. The trio looked rather displaced with Bree and Belle covered in dust and Melinda's jacket missing a sleeve. All in all, the group looked sad and regretful.

Everywhere else across the room, Frances spotted old familiar faces that had been the new faces that joined the battle; Cogsworth, Lumiere and Chateau, to name a few. The king's friends had rallied to support him even if it meant trashing half the castle and doing it in their most unimpressive outfits.

As he walked further into the room, a strange silence fell and all eyes turned on him. Again, Frances froze. He hated being in the spotlight. It made him giddy and uncomfortable. After all those years, he thought he'd be able to handle it being a grown up and all but he still felt like melting into his shoes.

His gaze locked with Bree's first, she smiled at him and gestured for him to come over. He suddenly became conscious of how different he looked from his townsfolk. The day he'd left or was forced to leave rather, he'd worn a dress shirt, brown trousers and his hunting boot and gear. Now, he was back in a black shirt, black jacket, jeans and a pair of Reeboks. Yup, he definitely did stand out in a crowd.

He took slow calculated steps toward his family that King Adam had now joined. The green armor wearing guards were being led away to give some privacy to the royal family.

After a few more awkward steps, he finally stood in front of them. A thousand pairs of different color eyes staring at him with different emotions. He wanted to scream and run. A part of him knew his family was still mad at him but he hoped they would give in to the part that missed him.

Almost on cue, his mother walked forward. Her big brown eyes were doe-like up close making Frances think he was staring directly at a pool of chocolate. Her eyebrows contorted, her face muscles tightened and relaxed on repeat as if her entire system was confused on what to feel at the moment. Frances became alarmed at how much he paid attention to the details in her face. It was like he was waiting for a feature to give away the fact that she was really mad at him.

She placed both hands on his cheek and a distant memory came flooding back.

He was five, playing fetch with Sultan in the grounds. His mother sat by the fountain, a book upturned on her lap as she watched him keenly. At such a young age, Frances was alarmingly indisposed to injuries. He threw a blue ball to the other end of the grounds and Sultan went after it. Frances made to follow then suddenly tripped and fell forward. Antoinette stood up and darted toward him as he spat leaves from his mouth. She cleaned him up, gently pleading with him to not run around so much and then went on to describe him as her whole world.

"I bet i could fit my whole world in my hands." She said cupping both her hands.

"Mama, that's not possible!" Frances argued.

She placed both hands on his cheek. "But i just did it!"

They both giggled as he tried to wiggle himself out of her hands.