𝐌𝐑𝐒. 𝐏𝐎𝐓𝐓𝐒 𝐏𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐄𝐃 some hot water into a bowl. Celine moved the bowl closer then dipped the rag in her hand into the water. Once soaked, she wrung it out then turned to the beast who had started to lick the wound on his arm.

"Oh, don't do that." She tried to pull his arm away, but he growled and fought against her as she tried to clean the wound. "Hold... still."

She managed to dab the rag against his wound and he immediately roared in pain, pulling his arm away. He growled and snapped in her face, "That hurts!"

Celine crossed her arms. "If you'd hold still, it wouldn't hurt as much."

"Well if you hadn't run away, this wouldn't have happened!" The beast spoke between gritted teeth as he referred to his arm. "It was foolish to run out into that storm."

"If you hadn't frightened me, I wouldn't have run away!" Celine retorted.

The beast opened his mouth to continue the argument, but needed a second to think. "Well you shouldn't have been in the West Wing!"

"If you didn't have such a bad temper, I wouldn't be here in the first place!" Celine snapped.

Realizing he didn't have anything to counter her rebuke, the beast sulked, turning his head away from her. Cautiously, she brought the rag back up to his arm.

"Now, hold still. This might sting a little." She gently dabbed the rag against his arm again. The beast winced and grunted in pain, but didn't lash out like the last time. Celine gently broke the following silence, "By the way, thank you... for saving my life."

The beast looked over at her surprised. He replied with the same soft tone, "You're welcome."

Once satisfied that the wound was clean, Celine applied a salve that she made from supplies found in the kitchen then wrapped it to prevent an infection from growing.

The beast held his arm close before inspecting her patch-up job. "Where'd you learn to do this?"

"The wrap or the salve?" she asked, but answered before he could clarify, "My mother taught me. She's a real miracle worker when it comes to medicines and herbal remedies... I was a clumsy kid, so she taught me to take care of myself early on in case she wasn't around in the moment."

"And now I'm urging you to take care of yourself, dear," Mrs. Potts gently interrupted. "It's been a long day and you're soaked to the bone. If you don't change you'll have a frightful cold by the morning. Come now, off to bed."

"But I still need—"

"We can take care of it," Mrs. Potts insisted, "Off to bed, dear."

Celine sighed and begrudgingly stood. She followed Mrs. Potts to the staircase, but cast one last look over her shoulder at the beast sitting in his chair. A fond smile crossed Mrs. Potts' face as she noticed the concerned look on the girl's face; however, Celine failed to notice the smile as she walked up the stairs to her arranged room.

———— 𖥸 ————

𝐒𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐀𝐃 𝐀𝐒𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐄𝐃 that the nightmares would return since she had actually lived them earlier that evening... and they did.

She was running from the wolves once more. It was like she was reliving the moment as she focused on details she'd never experienced in her dream previously: the weight of her breath, the cold in her toes, and the fear gripping her heart that had increased exponentially.

The wolves started to gain on her and she continued to lose more and more ground with each passing second. When in reach, the wolves pounced. She fell back and rolled down the hillside out onto the frozen lake. Unlike before, she couldn't bring herself to move.

She heard the crackling sound and could feel the ice give way beneath her. She fell into the water and closed her eyes, wanting nothing more for the dream to end. But she didn't wake up.

A hand grabbed her arm and dragged her back to the surface. However, she refused to open her eyes. She refused to be tormented by those sapphire eyes any longer, whether a prince or a beast, she didn't care.

Whoever dragged her from the waters began to fervently shake her. She forced her eyes to remain shut, squeezing them tight.

"Come on, mon petit ange... you're going to be alright."

Her eyes flashed open to meet the face of her mother. Relief flooded her eyes and she quickly embraced her mother. Althea ran her fingers through her daughter's wet hair.

"Shhh, everything is alright now, mon petit ange." Her mother consoled her as if she was nothing more than a frightened child. "Those beasts can't harm you anymore..."

"I can't escape them," Celine whispered, burying her face in her mother's skirt. "They follow me everywhere."

"We'll just have to find someplace they are not," her mother suggested. Althea lifted her head and scanned her surroundings. The golden gate in front of her was a warm sight for sore eyes. "This way, mon petit ange. Let's see if we can find shelter for the night out of this bitter storm."

The girl didn't argue, she knew better. A small puddle had formed around her feet from the droplets of water dripping from the hem of her dress. Enough of a surface formed to reflect the child looking down at her shoes. Celine reached a hand to her face and the child copied.

Very interesting... the dream had taken a different turn altogether. Although aware of her dream state, she had no control over the direction of the dream. So, she was forced to endure whatever was in store next in the form of her ten-year-old self.

Her mother took her hand and gently tugged her along. The golden gates closed behind them. It was only once they reached the palace steps that her mother created space between them.

As her mother pulled her cloak tighter around herself, Celine raised an eyebrow in confusion. The feeling only grew as her mother bent over and picked a small delicate rose from the ground.

Althea forced her daughter to hide in the bushes before pulling her cloak tighter around herself. Her daughter was unable to see her face as she approached the front doors and knocked.

Sitting in the snow was miserable. The thorns in the bushes scratched Celine's sides and stabbed her face forcing her to retreat further and further back for some sort of comfort.

She tripped on the edge of her cloak as she inched backward and fell. However, when she lifted her head from the ground, she was no longer trapped in the bushes. Several other details had changed as well.

Her tattered rags had been replaced with a flowing white gown. A feathered mask covered her face and her shoes actually fit. She slowly stood and dusted herself off before looking around the room.

A breathtaking chandelier hung from the ceiling and the crystals embedded along each branch glittered in the light. An ornate gold trim lined all of the walls, complementing the marble columns that acted as supports for the ballroom.

A series of elongated windows lined the far wall where a pair of thrones had been positioned just a few feet ahead. Although the throne on the right remained vacant, a snivelly man perched on the left throne.

He was dressed for the part and certainly had the attitude to play the royal, but Celine easily saw through the facade. That man was no more than a mere puppet, an acting king until the actual one returned or came of age.

She considered approaching the throne, curious whether or not it's what she was meant to do, but her question was answered with a simple tap on the shoulder. She turned her head, but clutched her heart in fright at the lion face she was met with.

The lion giggled before lifting the mask to reveal a boy... a boy with sapphire eyes. He bowed and extended his hand as if offering to dance with her. Hesitantly, she accepted his hand.

He brought her closer then led her out onto the dance floor where they joined the ongoing waltz. The boy couldn't have been much older than her ten-year-old self, but he moved with the poise and grace of someone far more experienced.

"Are your parents a pair of the visiting dignitaries?" The boy broke the silence between them with his question. "My uncle doesn't often invite children my age."

"I'm visiting," Celine answered vaguely so as not to seem out of place. "Is that your uncle sitting on that fancy chair over there?"

"Throne," the boy corrected.

"Is there a difference?"

The boy opened his mouth to reply, but closed it soon thereafter. Celine giggled at how easily she had stumped him.

"So that must make you the prince then?" Celine asked.

The boy eagerly nodded his head as if waiting for her to grow impressed. "Yep! Someday this will all be mine."

She wrinkled her nose at his tone of arrogance. "And then what shall you do?"

"What do you mean?" The boy's brow wrinkled in confusion. However, it was a bit difficult to see the motion as he'd kept the lion mask on his head and it had started to slip back down onto his face.

"Well... you'll have all that power." Celine shrugged. He quickly twirled her and she briefly lost her balance. The room still felt as if it were spinning when they resumed the usual dance steps. She tried to clear her head. "There'll be a lot of people counting on you."

The prince looked at her in thought before ultimately shrugging. "Why should I care about the problems of peasants?"

Celine stopped moving. She gave him a dumbfounded look before shaking her head. She pushed herself away from him then walked back into the opulent crowd of attendees. She was starting to think the dreamworld enjoyed irritating her: from predators to snobby princes, she couldn't catch a break. It was bad enough she had to deal with these sorts of things in the real world, now she was forced to face them in her fantasy one too.

The doors to the throne room slammed open and forced all heads to turn. A haggard old woman slowly limped into the room. She was escorted by a pair of guards who almost looked like they feared her.

The faux king stood from his throne and slowly approached the woman. "What is this disruption?"

"She—she insisted upon seeing his highness," one of the guards stuttered. The elderly woman nodded her head once, keeping her hood pulled down over her eyes.

"Well spit it out, woman!" the faux king snapped.

"Not you," the woman's voice rasped. She lifted a single, gnarled finger and pointed to the prince. "I come for the boy."

"Me?" The small prince looked repulsed by the hag, but also intrigued.

The woman nodded her head. The prince snobbishly scoffed but approached the old woman all the same. She tried to take his hand in hers, but he recoiled.

"I heard word of the disastrous events of the late king and queen," the old woman said. The prince's face fell at the reminder of his parents' recent death. "How tragic... but befitting of such monsters..."

"Who are you to speak of my parents like this?" The boy snapped, insulted.

"There was a time when magic flourished in this fair country," the hag ignored the boy's remark. "The late king and queen extinguished just about every last spark. Now, I've come to see what the little prince plans... and offer him a blessing."

She slowly pulled a rose from her robe and extended it out to the prince. The boy scoffed. "You call this a blessing? I have a dozen more just like it in the gardens."

"There is more to this rose than meets the eye," the old woman warned. "It serves as a symbol: the start of fixing the wrongs of the previous generation. There's still some magic left in this world, but it's dying—"

"I don't care," the prince interrupted. "You've rudely interrupted this evening and have disrupted my guests long enough. Be gone, hag."

The old woman's face fell. The disappointment was visible followed by a look of remorse. She extended the rose once more and fell to her knees as if preparing to beg. "Allow me to stay one night, sire. I ask you not to send me back out into that bitter storm."

Celine watched as the prince glanced back toward his uncle, looking for some form of approval. The faux king simply upturned his nose. The prince mimicked his action as he sneered at the old woman.

"You shall receive no sympathy from here."

"I ask you just once more," the woman slowly rose to her feet and offered him the flower just one more time, "Do not be deceived by appearances, for beauty is found within..."

There was an eerie and foreboding tone to her voice as if his next decision would condemn him for all eternity. The faux king scoffed and turned to walk back to the throne, now uninterested in the matter, leaving the final decision up to his nephew as if it were a test all along.

The boy's eyes hardened and he extended his hand. He turned his face away and motioned for the guards to haul the old woman away. The guards moved to obey the prince's command, but were never given the chance.

They were easily knocked aside as the hag's deformed appearance melted away and was replaced by a brilliant light. The entire room averted their eyes for fear of going blind.

The faux king screamed and the prince's eyes widened in horror. The enchantress's back was turned so that Celine was unable to see her face. The castle guests screamed and tried to escape the room, but Celine remained firm in her spot.

The faux king ordered the surrounding guards to subdue the enchantress, but she had no issues dealing with them. Their armor clattered to the ground, no longer occupied. She then turned her attention toward the faux king.

"You're no better than those before you." Her voice echoed around the room. "You persecuted those that were different in hopes of boosting your own greatness... Oh, how far you fell."

The faux king turned coward frantically looked around the room for an escape from the enchantress's wrath. However, there was none. She lifted her hands and chanted a few words in an ancient tongue that evaporated the man on the spot. The crown too large for his head clattered against the polished floor.

The prince's eyes widened and he immediately realized his mistake as he collapsed to his knees. His hands clasped together as he looked up at the enchantress, pleading for his life.

Celine tried to take a step forward, but it was like her feet were glued to the ground. All she could do was stand there and spectate.

The enchantress shook her head, implying that it was too late. She lifted her hands, but stopped and turned to look at the vacant space to her right. There was no one beside her but she acted as if there was. The enchantress sighed and looked at the boy, almost as if pitying him.

"Raoul reminds me of a time where I was generous enough to provide second chances," the enchantress sounded reminiscent. She slowly shook her head. "The little prince is as beastly as his parents... but there is still time to change. So, I offer you a second chance, little prince."

The boy looked up at the enchantress, but it was impossible to tell if he was actually listening. He only seemed to concentrate on himself and his fear.

"There is no love in his heart." The enchantress clicked her tongue in disapproval. Slowly, she nodded her head as if having a conversation with another being. "Should he learn to love another, and that love be returned prior to the last petal of this rose falling from its stalk on his twenty-first birthday then this spell shall be broken."

The boy's mask fell down over his face as gold sparks flickered from the enchantress's hands. He made an attempt to pry it off, but it was no use. The sparks of magic were drawn to him and he cowered the second they touched him. A low growl echoed around the room while the enchantress focused on completing her spell.

She closed her fists as if drawing her energy inward before it surged outward, touching anything and everyone that remained on the palace grounds. There was a blinding flash of white light that was enough to startle her awake.

Celine shot straight up in her bed, gasping for breath. Her eyes were wide as she brushed her hair back out of her face. So much information had flashed before her eyes, but only now was she beginning to realize that not everything she saw was from her own mind.

She focused on her breathing to calm herself. She closed her eyes and counted backwards from ten until she reached one. She slowly opened her eyes, silently praying that she'd wake up in her own bed back at the cottage, but those hopes were crushed by a silk pillowcase and satin sheets. The luxury of the castle was suffocating.

It was then that she noticed the small green sparks of light that floated in the air over her head. There were also a few gold sparks, but the second the green ones touched them, they changed color.

There was a knock on the door. Panicked, she waved her hand through the air and brushed away the sparks until they completely disappeared. The knock on her door repeated itself.

She cleared her throat to clear her mind then called out, "Come in."

The door opened and Mrs. Potts rolled in on her cart just like she'd done earlier.

"Mrs. Potts?" Celine was genuinely surprised.

"A few of us heard a noise from down the hall dear," Mrs. Potts explained, "I thought I might check up on you... care for a cup of tea."

Celine nodded her head, comforted at the thought. The teapot poured her a cup and sent the teacup over. The teacup offered her a friendly smile, but she was quick to realize that it wasn't the one Mrs. Potts called "Chip". Although still uncomfortable by the idea of using a living thing as an inanimate object, Celine drank the offered tea.

"You've been through a lot, dear," Mrs. Potts tried to console her, "Try to get some rest..."

"Thank you," Celine quietly expressed her appreciation, "For being so kind... there's a lot that I don't understand though."

"You just might with time, dear," Mrs. Potts gently replied. "Perhaps there's a reason you stumbled upon the castle, hmm?"

"Perhaps..." Celine agreed, looking down at the tea in her hands. Growing uncomfortable with the silence, Celine feigned a yawn and stretched. "The tea was delightful. Just what I needed to unwind. Thank you again."

"My pleasure, dear," Mrs. Potts understood her implication. Once the teacup returned to her side, she rolled out of the room, leaving Celine alone with her thoughts.

Miraculously, the wardrobe hadn't woken up or she'd be forced to deal with that problem immediately. She rubbed her eyes and blew out the candle that had been lit as the teapot originally entered the room. Her eyes fluttered in the darkness.

She was terrified of the dreams that awaited her once she fell asleep, but she was too tired and emotionally drained from the events of the day to actually do anything about it. Slowly, she drifted off into a dreamless sleep, one that she would be grateful for in the morning.