𝐂𝐔𝐑𝐒𝐄𝐃 | 𝐭𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐬

𝐈𝐕. 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐃𝐞 𝐅𝐚𝐲𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞

"𝐘𝐎𝐔'𝐑𝐄 𝐂𝐄𝐑𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐍 you don't need any help?" Celine appeared unconvinced as Belle walked past the front steps of the farmhouse, straight toward the cellar.

"I appreciate the offer, but Papa and I can handle ourselves," Belle reassured her. Her comment was contradicted by the profuse amount of smoke released as she opened the cellar doors.

"If you say so..."

"Besides," Belle added while waving away the smoke, "I wouldn't want to keep you from your mother too long."

Celine released a gentle sigh at the idea of returning to the village market, but nodded her head in agreement. "Au revoir, Belle."

"Au revoir."

Belle disappeared into the smoke, but Celine lingered behind just a moment longer to ensure that nothing else would explode. Once satisfied with the peace that followed, Celine walked along the path away from the farmhouse back toward the village.

It didn't take long to find her mother's deep blue cloak that stood out from the pale hues of the crowded marketplace.

As Celine approached, Althea swiftly hid her basket behind her back. Celine curiously raised an eyebrow and tried to catch a glimpse at what her mother was hiding.

"Ah, ah," her mother scolded, "you'll ruin the surprise."

"What surprise?" Celine asked with a sly smile.

"If I told you, then it wouldn't be much of a surprise." Her mother winked and concealed the basket under her cloak as she walked alongside her daughter.

"Did you have any trouble while I was gone?" Celine hesitantly asked.

Her mother rolled her eyes. "I'm quite capable of handling myself, Celine."

"I know, I know," Celine replied, "but I also know of the talk that surrounds your name—"

"The Villenueve Witch?" her mother interrupted with a smirk. "I thought you were too old to believe in fairytales."

"It's just what they've been calling you behind your back," Celine muttered under her breath.

"That's all it is, mon ange, a name," her mother gently reminded her, "it can't hurt me anymore than the knights and dragons of your friend's stories... if you ask me, you've been spending too much time by her side lately."

"Maman," Celine protested, "Belle is not a bad influence if that's what you're implying. In fact, she's just about the opposite. She's the only other person in this village that can hold a stimulating conversation."

Althea remained unconvinced. "That doesn't mean you can just go traipsing through the village carelessly. You said it yourself, the townsfolk have their eyes on us."

"You just said I shouldn't pay attention to what they're saying," Celine said pointedly.

Althea clicked her tongue and shook her head. "No, I said I didn't care. If you're ever going to find a suitor—"

"Aie, Maman!" Celine rolled her eyes and threw her hands up in the air. "I have no interest in courting and suitors, and you said you weren't going to force me to make any decisions yet."

Her mother grew quiet. "I just don't want you to be lonely."

"I'm not lonely, Maman," Celine insisted, allowing a gentle smile to return, "I have you and my paints. What else could I need?"

"I won't always be around, mon ange." Althea gently placed her hands on her daughter's shoulders, forcing her daughter to look her in the eyes. "And you can't stay inside your head all day. You have to rejoin the real world at some point."

Celine looked down toward the ground and was silent. She pursed her lips in thought before redirecting the topic of conversation with questions she had never voiced aloud.

"What was papa like?"

Her mother froze, entirely caught off-guard by the sudden question. "Where is this coming from?"

Celine didn't answer the question. "Do you miss him?"

Althea sighed. "Some days, worse than others... your father was a callous man when we first met, but he taught me that people are capable of change if given a second chance."

"You were able to change him?"

Althea slowly shook her head. "It was more that I showed him a different side of himself that he had buried. He had been hardened from endless wars and devastating plagues. It was enough to make any lesser man insane, everything he experienced..."

Celine continued to listen intently.

"We met in the forest... he was rugged and I—I had practically been raised by Mother Nature." A fond expression crossed her mother's face as the story was told. "We disagreed on many things, too many things for either of us to even look at the other with respect. But a single night trapped together in a cave after a fierce storm was enough to overcome those differences..."

Her mother hesitated and Celine swore that a look of pain flashed in her eyes. Her mother was hiding something, but continued with the story before any more questions could be asked.

"That night ultimately led me to my most precious treasure." The pain faded and a fond smile replaced it as Althea looked at her daughter. "Mon petit ange."

Celine's smile grew brighter and she momentarily forgot about the details of the story that her mother excluded.

It was only once they reached the front doorstep of their small cottage at the edge of the forest that she realized they had left the village behind. She breathed in the fresh air that wasn't tainted by the smokestacks of the houses continuously burning logs and gases within their homes.

However, their more natural means of living certainly explained why the village misidentified them as witches most of the time. Sure, some of the villagers saw past the rumors, like the baker for instance; however, it was primarily out of business reasons more than anything else.

"Now... I know you were forced to change your plans earlier," Althea set her basket on the table, "but I do appreciate your help, even if you did run off halfway through the day."

Celine offered a sheepish shrug with a forced chuckle. "Je suis désolé, Maman."

"I don't mind," her mother interrupted and pulled back the handkerchief covering the contents of the basket. A few small glass jars of fresh paint were revealed. "I thought I might thank you all the same."

Celine gasped with delight at the vibrant colors, carefully picking each up as if they would shatter in her hands. "Where did you get these?"

"There was a traveling wagon in town," her mother explained, "you missed it while you were gallivanting off who knows where."

"Merci," Celine genuinely thanked her mother with a tight hug. "Merci, merci!"

"Alright, that's quite enough," her mother laughed, "I expect to see the results of your painting once you finish one."

"Of course," Celine laughed giddily, clutching each glass jar close to her chest.

"And I want a signed copy for when Celine de Fayette becomes the world's most renowned artiste," her mother quickly added.

"I wouldn't have it any other way," Celine agreed.

Celine gathered the rest of her belongings and entered her makeshift studio at the back of the house. Carefully, she reorganized her space to accommodate for the new additions.

Since her mother had bought her new supplies, she could save another month's earnings that would have originally been specifically set aside for replacing her stock. The coins jingled as they bounced against the others in the jar as Celine added them to her savings.

It wouldn't be long now. Belle would have her adventure of traveling to far off places while she was thrilled to paint something other than the small provincial life of Villenueve.