The bustle of the city faded in Eliott's ears as he walked. Didn't even bother to take a horse from the stables. Just walked. And walked. The desire to get lost into the winding alleys and dangerous lanes in the town had never been this strong in his gut. He wanted to punch something or scream until his lungs exploded, but he couldn't do either one because he had a reputation to protect. A family to uphold. An office to establish.

The same things that couldn't even get him what we wanted. Or needed.

Since that day when he saw the enslaved fae in exchange for humans' entertainment, Eliott had looked into the issue and discovered there's a whole industry behind them. These people would hunt fae, mostly those around the age of a child, stuff them in cages, and parade them around the kingdom in exchange for a few measly coppers. Then, once the fae were old enough to get rid of the hunters with their magic, they were sold to mines or to random houses as a keeper.

Sometimes, when the fae wasn't subservient enough or had made a mistake inside the house, the owners or their bosses could have them be tortured and killed. Eliott had read so many case files reported by the Palendral about domestic and corporate abuse. Most of the victims were fae.

It sickened him, poked shame into his gut, and told him enough. Something had to change with how much this empire let its citizens get away with. If they're going to be worth anything else in the lifetimes to come, this wouldn't be what they want to be remembered as.

Eliott refused to live not doing anything just because some buttheads in fancy robes told him he couldn't.

A shadow fell over him and he craned his neck up to gaze at a frame of a belltower looming above him. It easily dwarfed the shops and houses at its feet. He shielded his eyes with his hand, driving most of the sunlight's glare from his vision. From his place on the ground, he spied a golden bell the size of a cow hanging by the tower's ceiling.

In all honesty, he had never known what this belltower was called, but seeing as how it was positioned in the town center, where everyone was sure to see it and hear its tolls, it must have been important.

So, he did the most sensible thing ever known to mankind. He climbed it.

Not the vigilante type he once read in children's tales. He found a door at the side of the prism-like body, opened it with a creak, and tackled the steps he saw leading towards the bell.

And by the gods, he had climbed for what felt like hours. By the time he reached the only landing in the tower, his knees felt like jelly and his stomach grumbled. Sweat poured in buckets against his back, drenching his shirt and vest. It's a good thing he hasn't even bothered wearing a coat or something.

Still, it was worth it.

What's left of his breath was knocked out of his lungs at the sight beyond the room's arched windows. Through the four of them, Eliott saw the rest of the town and more spread into an expanse of colors and shapes. Rosewall's edge could be seen from the north, the characteristic fortress of Balronet visible through a fine veil of low-lying clouds and dots of green. Silhouettes of curving mountains sloped up and down the farther horizon. From Eliott's vantage point, they looked like big hats more than actual mountains.

"Grand, aren't they?" a voice speared through his ears.

He flinched and an uncharacteristic gasp flew out of his mouth. The bell made a distinct twang when his back slammed against its side in his haste to jump away from the windows. He looked here and there, heart pounding against his chest. He shouldn't have come here. It's too early to die by being thrown out of the window.

"I meant no harm," the voice chuckled. Before Eliott could make sense of it, something thundered from the tower's roofs, the steps echoing in the room's hollow ceiling. Then, fabric rustled and something whipped and flapped. In a whish of feathers, a girl clambered from the window and dropped to the wooden floorboards.

"Hi," she said, raising her hand similar to how humans do it. "Nice to see someone else here."

Eliott blinked. And blinked again. For the past few years, he had tried fighting for the rights of the fae but having one standing a few feet from him seemed like a far-off circumstance. Now, not only was he standing in front of one, she was talking to him too. Like he wasn't a human and she wasn't fae.

Like they were equals.

Then, what she said registered to Eliott. He shook his head. "I'm sorry," he scratched the side of his face and made way to the door. "If this is your spot, I meant to harm or disrespect. I could go. If you want to."

The girl laughed—a sound so melodious it tickled something inside Eliott. "No, silly. It's fine," she said. It took him a few moments to realize her hair was the reddest shade he had ever seen. That and the horns curving from her hairline to the sides of her head was one of the most elegant ones he had ever seen. Did he mention her wings looked immaculate too?

"It's not every day someone else finds me," the girl tilted her head to one side. An amused smile painted her features, wide enough to make the corners of her eyes crinkle. "Who are you?"

His breath hitched, his eyes flying to the wide expanse of the sky beyond the tower. "E-Eliott," he blurted with an uncharacteristic stutter. Why was he even nervous? It's not like this fae was going to actually throw him out the window because of trespassing. "Please don't throw me off the window."

A beat passed by between them. Two.

Then, the girl threw her head back and laughed. Just...laughed. Eliott blinked. When the girl calmed down, she wiped the back of her hand against her eyes. Just like how a human would often end up in tears after laughing too hard. "I've never had a good one like that," she said, hints of amusement still lingering in her tone. "Thanks for that."

Eliott opened his mouth to reply but the girl beat him to it. "And no. I'm not going to throw you off," she turned to the window and walked towards it. She crossed her arms and leaned them against the sill. "Having company is nice. I'm never going to turn that away, you know?"

He stuck his bottom lip out and decided it was safe to let his shoulders relax and his limbs to relieve the tension in them. He joined the girl by the window, this time, leaning his back on the wall it was attached to. Now, one of them was looking outside and the other on the inside.

"What's your name?" he said before his confidence could waver. He was never good at talking to girls, much less fae ones. That's why he was dreading the initiation period where he was supposed to look for a bride and introduce her to the royal court. Why he was out here doing something out of his league was beyond him.

Fear flickered in the girl's eyes at his question. She masked it well by averting her eyes and blowing a heavy breath. Her hands unconsciously ran down her arms like she was growing cold. "Fae don't reveal their names to anyone," she said. "It gives whoever hears it power over us. I'm sorry."

Eliott could admit it was a bummer but it wasn't a setback. "Well, what do you want me to call you?" he asked. "Because I couldn't keep calling you 'the girl' in my head."

She snorted at that before jerking her chin at him. "What would you rather call me?"

"Sorry?" Eliott was glad he was leaning against a wall or else he would've fallen down.

The girl's lips curled into a mischievous smile. " 'Sorry' isn't a very good name and it sounds like what you'd name a bird. Or a dog," she said.

Heat rushed to Eliott's face. Damn, this was embarrassing. "Um—"

"I'm kidding," the girl waved her head in front of her face. "So, what do you think is the most suitable name for me?"

Eliott let his eyes wander, taking in the expanse of random objects and words flitting in his head. He blurted out the first one he could think of. "Belle," he said.

The girl raised an eyebrow, looking behind her then back at him to confirm she hadn't misheard it. "Bell?"

"No, belle. With an e," Eliott clarified. His brain was now backtracking at this apparently idiotic choice. He blew it, didn't he? "I mean, I could still think of another—"

"It's perfect," the girl, Belle, said. "What makes you think of that, I wonder?"

This time, Eliott had gotten used to her quirky humor, so he just chuckled instead of floundering around like a pufferfish. "It takes a genius to know a genius."

From the corner of his eyes, he saw Belle pick at the hem of her sleeves. Instead of driving his attention away from whatever she was trying to hide, that's all he noticed. The sleeves were thick enough to hide her arms from the shoulder to somewhere in the elbows, but they stopped there. She wore a simple, corseted dress, after all. Was she employed as a keeper or something?

Still, peeking from the edges of her sleeves were faint criss-crossing scars.

"Don't ask," Belle's face was pulled into a grimace when she said it. "I don't want to talk about it."

Ever so quietly, Eliott said, "I didn't," he said. "Where are you staying these days?"

Belle gripped her arm, her nails making creases against her sleeves. "These scars..." she muttered more to herself rather than to Eliott. "They're hideous."

Okay, she totally ignored his other question. As much as she didn't want to talk about it, it's all she could think of right now. A perfect case of saying what they didn't mean and doing what they meant. Classic human trait. He should meet her where she's at.

"Scars tell you of what you survived and what you went through," Eliott said. "I don't know your story but all that matters is that you're here. You survived. Against all odds."

He felt like a hypocrite this time around. Here he was, trying to justify all the wrongs his people had probably caused Belle by appealing to her emotions and pride. He expected her to fly into a rage and throw him out of the window for real, but instead, she smiled. "It's not your fault," she said. "So stop looking at me like it is."

It kind of was? No matter what she said, it would always be his fault. He had chosen to stand by and let it happen. To more and more people as time went by, it seemed.

"The sins of another is not the sin of a collective," Belle continued. A calm look smoothed her features. "I don't blame all humans for causing harm to the fae. There are still some good ones out there."

How Eliott wished humans held the same attitude when it came to dealing with fae. But, like a cruel twist of fate, they went the other way around.

"Still, you don't need to be embarrassed by them," Eliott swiveled back to the original topic before things got too personal and philosophical. "You're stunning even with the scars. Or—let me rephrase that—they make you look more stunning."

Belle blinked. Then, she smirked. "Why? Are you expecting me to melt into a puddle of feathers?" she snorted at her own joke. "Picked up girls with that?"

Eliott inclined his head to one side. "Not actually. No," he smiled despite him admitting his failures as a person.

"Do you often visit this place?" he peeled off the wall to join her by the sill. He didn't lean against it even though Belle had scooted over to give him space.

Belle rolled her shoulders. Her wings perked behind her with the motion. "Not as much as i'd like to," she said. "I come here to clear my head and appreciate the vastness of life whenever I feel too much of it. It reminds me I'm just an insignificant speck in its eyes, after all."

Eliott pushed his hair off his face. "Can I do that as well?" he said.

She straightened to lock eyes with him. He circled his finger in the air to signify the room and the belltower as vaguely as he could. "Can I come here when life gets too much for me, as well?"

Belle grinned. As expected, there were no fangs growing out from her gums. Without all the extra appendages and the interesting brand of humor, she would be just like any other human he met in the streets or interacted with in the palace.

"Sure," she said. A single lock of hair fell from her strict low-bun, framing her round face. She reached up and tucked it behind one pointed ear. When she looked at him, he swore his heart skipped a beat for reasons unknown. "I'll look forward to that."

Then, with an elegant swish, Belle jumped to the sill and spread her wings. She launched herself into the open air. Within seconds, the sounds of her wings flapping faded in the quiet skies as her figure got smaller and smaller until it was no more than a dot.

Somehow, being left alone standing in a dark space after having a dreamy conversation with a stranger was not a feeling Eliott was unfamiliar with. Mostly because he had been in this place before.

A long, long time ago.