𝐂𝐔𝐑𝐒𝐄𝐃 | 𝐭𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐬

𝐕𝐈. 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐀𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐬𝐭

"𝐎𝐇, 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐀 𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐊𝐄," Celine muttered under her breath as she paced by the front door.

"You're starting to burn a hole in the floor, Celine," her mother chastised, hardly looking up from her cutting board in the kitchen.

"I don't think I can do this."

"You're the one that agreed to an evening out on the town," her mother reminded her.

"It was your idea," Celine countered.

Her mother nodded her head in agreement. "I still think it's a good idea for you to go out and meet other people your age. It's not good for you to be alone."

Celine huffed. "Maman, I'm not alone. I have you, my paints, and—"

"And Belle," her mother interrupted, "yes, I know."

"You don't mindlessly mingle with the townsfolk and you're fine," Celine insisted, "I don't see why I'm any different."

"I'm known as the Villenueve Witch," her mother reminded her, "most are frightened by a delusion they've formed in their minds and associated with our family name. I don't want that for you, mon ange."

Celine crossed her arms, hugging them around herself as she remembered the events of the day. Her mother looked up from chopping vegetables and immediately noticed the crestfallen expression on her daughter's face. She set down her knife and moved to Celine's side, gently pulling her into an embrace.

"They have trouble embracing anything different," her mother explained, "I don't want you to be anyone other than yourself, but I also don't want you to isolate yourself. You need someone that will accept you as you are."

Celine sighed. "I'm not going to find that person here in the village, Maman."

Her mother was silent for a moment. "Then maybe it's time you explore life outside the village?"

Celine looked up from the ground in shock as she processed her mother's suggestion. "What about you?"

"I'll be alright on my own." She tenderly brushed a stray hair behind Celine's ear. "Just promise me that you'll give tonight a chance before you make your final decision?"

Celine slowly nodded her head, but was interrupted by a quick rapping on the door. She bit her lip and glanced over her shoulder. "That must be him."

Althea nodded her head and took a step back as Celine opened the door. Instead of Gaston, Belle stood on her doorstep, frantic and out of breath.

"Belle?" Celine's eyes widened.

"Papa's gone!"

"What do you mean?" Celine questioned, looking beyond her friend to see a horse just as skittish as the bookworm. "I thought he left for the fair last night?"

"He did," Belle agreed, "but Phillipe returned this evening without him. I fear something awful has happened."

Celine looked back to her mother before facing Belle, expressing her concern. "How can we help?"

"I'm going after him," Belle explained. "Could you watch to see if he returns home while I'm out?"

"Of course, dear," Althea surprisingly agreed. "Be safe."

Celine looked between her mother and Belle while an incredulous look flashed across her face. "You can't seriously agree that she should go out on her own."

"We can go into the village and arrange a search party," Althea clarified her intentions.

"I can't wait." Belle shook her head. "I just thought I should let you know that I could be gone awhile."

"It's getting late and the woods only grow more dangerous in the night," Celine pleaded, "wait until the morning, s'il vous plaît."

Belle shook her head. "My father needs me."

"Then I'm coming—"

Celine was interrupted as her mother cleared her throat and motioned toward the open door and the approaching hunter. Celine winced and sighed with the reminder of her prearranged plans. She turned toward Belle.

"Be safe."

Belle nodded her head and turned to mount her horse. "I will."

She rode off just as Gaston arrived on their doorstep. He glanced over his shoulder and watched as Belle rode toward the woods. "Am I interrupting something?"

"Oui," she thought. However, she held her tongue and shook her head. "Let's just get this over with."

"Celine," her mother hissed, reminding her to mind her manners.

"It's quite alright, Althea," Gaston pardoned the action, "Celine has every right to doubt my intentions 'til I prove myself."

Celine skeptically raised an eyebrow. Hesitantly, she accepted Gaston's offered arm as he led her away from the cottage into the village. The silent walk greatly contrasted the raucous noise from inside the tavern.

She failed to conceal that her nose wrinkled the second the doors were open and the overwhelming smell of ale flooded her nostrils.

"I can't believe people spend so much time here," she muttered under her breath.

"It is amazing, isn't it?" Gaston asked rhetorically, having entirely misheard what she'd said.

"Gaston!" LeFou cheered from a nearby table. The others around him lifted their pints in a salute to the hunter.

She rolled her eyes. Gaston returned the salute then led Celine to the back of the tavern to a wall covered in antlers.

She paled at the thought of how each "trophy" made its way onto the wall. "Is there anything left in the forest at this point?"

Gaston laughed. "Not when I'm through with it."

However, he realized his mistake as he noticed her unimpressed expression only grew. He released an uncomfortable, sheepish laugh before offering an alternative suggestion. "Why don't you have the tavern keeper open a tab?"

Celine, almost too eager to leave, nodded her head and swiftly approached the bar. However, it wasn't quick enough to avoid the Bimbettes.

"You have to tell us how you did it," Paulette pleaded.

"Did what?" Celine asked in confusion, facing the triplets after speaking with the tavern keeper.

"What did you say to him?" Claudette asked without answering the question.

Laurette crossed her arms. "It has to be a spell. Her mother's a witch, it would only make sense that she would be one too."

"My mother isn't a witch," Celine insisted, crossing her arms.

"That's something a witch would say," Claudette whispered to her sisters.

Celine pinched the bridge of her nose. "This was a mistake... Maybe it's not too late to sneak out of here—"

Her hopes were dashed by the sound of a violin. She turned her head in confusion but immediately frowned as LeFou raised his pint in the air. The musicians in the corner increased the tempo of their song and LeFou began to sing.