#horsenapped

MERIDA: As she trudged to Belle’s cottage, Merida had her mission in hand-- or, slipped under her shirt, hidden, the gleam of her knife for now just another one of Merida’s secrets. They were pilin’ up, weren’t they? An Order girl, an aspiring Knight, a lycanthropy curse, and now this. She felt each secret like a nail in her heel as she walked. But Merida was tougher than nails. Tougher than curses. Tougher than any man.

And so she walked on.

She had a pregnant woman to kidnap, after all. And a deadline to meet. Phoebus would not be late and so neither would she. She told herself as the cottage came into sight and her stomach dropped that it would all be worth it in the end. She blamed that stomach sick feeling on the curse, the tourmaline, though she’d not cut herself in over a week in preparation for something like this...a risk, but worth it, a risk, but one she would shoulder. This mission will prove it, once and for all, Merida thought. I’m a Knight. I belong in the Order. I’m a Knight. They’ll all see.

She wasn’t a werewolf. She wasn’t useless. She wasn’t just a girl.

I’m a Knight, I’m a Knight, I’m a Knight.

Her feet crunched snow, then scuffed against the stone path. She had texted Belle she was coming ‘course, so the door was already open for her. It creaked on its hinges, a proper ghost house. Merida refrained from reaching back for her knife. She entered and cleared her throat.

“Oi!” she called. “‘M here! Comin’ up!”

Just like normal. Just like every other time. Merida’s heart pitched into overdrive, her stomach-sick feeling returning. She pushed through it. Belle was kind, and Belle was good, and this was for Belle, and for her baby too. That’s what Merida told herself too. I’m a knight-- I save people. I’m saving Belle. Even from herself.

Carefully, Merida knocked on Belle’s door, left ajar. When she peaked in, she smiled, seeing Belle on the bed with a book.

“Heya,” she greeted and pushed the door open. “You look cozy, eh?”

BELLE: Hades was at a Board meeting and Belle was bored to tears. Honestly, she’d been crying on and off the last week just out of pure frustration. She hated it. She hated that just walking down the stairs made her dizzy. She hated that people thought they needed to bring food by to her (and how much she really did want and appreciate the food.) She hated that she needed monitoring twenty-four seven and that Hera was by at least a few times a week and the only time she got out of the house was to go to the bloody hospital.

She hated that it was making her resent her baby. It was making her question all of it—her decision to have it, how good of a mother she would be if such an inconvenience made her start to go insane. Babies weren’t convenient. They didn’t work on your time frame. Their schedules were all their own. She resented that she felt stuck, trapped, and exhausted.

Which meant she was glad that Merida had texted her. At least Merida didn’t baby her. Even if she couldn’t hide her pity as well as she thought. It was nice, because at least Belle got to fret over Merida just as much as everyone tried to fret over her. And Merida wouldn’t stop her if she tried to get out of bed.

Of all the people who came to visit her, Merida was her favourite.

When she heard Merida’s call, she looked up from her book. One thing this bedrest had taught Belle was that it was possible to get tired of reading. All she’d been doing was reading. Reading and reading and reading.

The smile that had been on her face dropped into a scowl at Merida’s comment and she rolled her eyes, even as her head fell back against her pillows, not even bothering to attempt to sit up more. She was pathetic. Merida already knew this, she’d been witnessed to it. Belle was cozy where she was, and a little feverish. Also, nauseous. At least she wasn’t anxious.

“More like absolutely, utterly, positively, oppressively, deathly stultified,” she growled. “You better have brought me something to keep me entertained.”

MERIDA: Merida had only brought one thing.

That one thing was in her pocket, staying quiet. For now.

But Merida just put on her best smile and strolled farther into the room. It was a rather depressing place, wasn’t it? It reminded her of her own dorm room, who, since the...attack...had become a kind of tomb in itself. Merida had grown to hate her room when before she had loved it, even if it was small and a bit stuffy-smellin’ considering the age of the ol’ Lyons Castle. Now, she saw none of her home there. She hated her sheets, how they stuck to her at night when her fever made her near drown in sweat. She hated the too-small shower and her too-small window. She hated being stuck in there. She hated spending all that time in bed, when even Merida could not force through the pain and the exhaustion and had to curl up, like she was a baby herself, to sleep.

Merida knew better than anyone else, then, what Belle was going through. She knew about the tourmaline fog, how it weighed heavy on the brow. She knew about how easy it was to get tired. She knew.

It made her even sorrier, if only because it’d be a hard trip, down the stairs and out into the world again.

But after it was all done… after it was all done, they’d find a way to exorcise the spirit, eh? Belle would be freed. They’d save the baby (for maybe there’d be a way, Merida wanted to reason) and then Merida would swear herself to Belle’s side. Her own Knight, who would protect her and help her when the baby came. She wouldn’t be alone. And Belle would see that Merida had been here, by her side, trying to save her all along.

“Unfortunately I only brought meself. Hope that’s enough, eh?” Merida chirped as cheerful as she could manage. Which was rather good; it helped, not cutting herself for the past week or so. She felt more like herself.

She sat with one hip on the bed. “But don’t worry, I’ve been told I’m good for a laugh or two. At the very least you got a new face to look at.” She wrinkled her nose playfully.

BELLE: Belle smiled at Merida, too tired to chuckle really. The smile was a dopey, fond kind of smile that she couldn’t really help. The tourmaline made her brain feel like a fog had settled over it. Especially after so long. Belle was a parody of herself in many ways.

She didn’t think before she spoke as much, her anxiety all but turned all the way down. The only positive side effect of the stone around her neck. She didn’t fight much, simply didn’t have the energy. She was grumpy, of course, and restless, but after a month like this, she had accepted her lot.

It filled her with resentment, but there was nothing she could do but stew. Which she did, day in and day out. The only relief coming when people came to visit. Which was not that often. After the first two weeks of bed rest, the visits had dropped off. Everyone moving on with their lives. Forgetting about poor Belle all alone. Except Hades, but he didn’t really have a choice to forget, did he?

Sometimes Belle thought he might like to.

However, just having a guest put her in a much better mood. And if anyone had een more or less consistent stopping by, it was Merida.

“I suppose that’s entertainment enough,” Belle allowed. “It’s a shame you’re not more inclined to chess.” Not that Belle was very good at it these days. Her brain was working at what felt like less than half its power.

“How are you?” she asked, squinting at Merida. She knew the full moon had passed at some point over the last month. How had Merida faired, she wondered. If she was more herself, she would be fretting much more, but she simply didn’t have the capacity. That didn’t mean she wasn’t concerned, however.

MERIDA: Chess reminded her of her Uncle Quinn. He was the one who taught Merida when she was much younger. He was a master chessman; he said it was what made him an excellent Prince. To think ahead, to read your opponents’ mind, to see patterns and memorize strategy...these were the things that chess could teach you and all Princes could learn. 

He’d told her all this, knowing her ambitions, and knowing full well that the Order would not let her be a Prince. Nor train for her chance. To Merida, those few chess games with her Uncle Quinn were its own kind of quiet endorsement then. He might not give her his sword, but he tried to sharpen her mind.

Uncle Quinn was her favourite for a reason.

That bein’ said-- Merida wasn’t the best at chess. She wasn’t half-bad, but no where the level her Uncle Quinn was, or even Belle. She’d spent time out, exploring, hiking, running, practicing her bow and her sword. She had always been too restless to sit still for long. But she appreciated the lessons anyhow-- and for a moment she smiled a little as she thought of him, and an arrow struck her own chest. It bled through her, all that homesickness. The attack had brought so much of it to her.

Merida pushed it all away though. “Well, I’ll play ye alright, but we both know you’re gonna win and where’s the fun in that?” said Merida with a big smile.

“How about a-- walk in the gardens instead, eh? You can walk ‘round a little. I won’t tell your husband if you won’t,” Merida said and she winked.

Though, course, what Merida was really planning was far from an innocent stroll through the green.

BELLE: Belle gave Merida a funny look.

Out in the garden? Belle hadn’t been outside in days. Not only because she was, really, quite weak, but because it was also rather cold outside and Belle needed to keep her body temperature properly regulated, which even without the ghosts was proving difficult. It was the stone again, which made her shiver and her teeth chatter with cold. She was too cold always, her temperature hovering just below normal. The teas Hera made cut some of the shivering down, but the only time it really subsided was if Hades sat on the bed with her and heated it, not even a hot water bottle quite helped, nor the little space heater she kept on in the room. Not even a bath helped, not that that was much of an option these days considering the amount of effort it took on both hers and Hades’ part.

A walk in the gardens was practically inviting in pneumonia. Merida knew this, Belle had complained about it more than once. Merida fret over Belle more than Belle imagined from a girl like her, though she supposed it wasn’t that much of a surprise, considering how protective Merida had been when they’d first met.

Oh.

It must be a joke. Merida had just said she was very funny.

Belle’s brain caught on too slow to this fact, so when the confusion finally melted off her face it had been several moments.

“Hilarious, Merida. It’s not nice to tempt me with something you know I can’t have.”

MERIDA: It had been worth a shot.

To be honest, she’d not been too optimistic it would work-- banking mostly on Belle’s foggy head to give Merida influence. She didn’t want to drag a pregnant lady out of bed forcibly if she absolutely had to-- even getting her down the stairs of her own free will would be best. Much could go wrong, for Belle, for her baby, if she fought her on the way down the stairs.

Her phone hadn’t buzzed quite yet, though. Which meant she had a little more time and her knife could stay hidden. As long as she had that time…

Merida wracked her brain. But as she wracked her brain, she cracked a smile. “Ah, y’know how I am,” she said and she reached forward to poke Belle right in the center of the forehead, which was somethin’ Merida had done several times before on these visits. And true, Merida’s brand of humour was rough at best. Teasing, playful insults-- that’s how the Scottish showed affection.

“Though seriously-- this room is depressin’, eh? Don’t you think? Maybe we can go downstairs. I’ll make a fire in the fireplace for ye, that’ll keep you toasty.” She scrunched her nose affectionately. “Can even take the chess board down there if you like! I’ll give it a go long as you go easy on me.”

BELLE: The room was depressing, Belle was coming to loathe it. She hadn’t left it except to shower and use the restroom for days now. All those days felt piled up on her skin, or sunk down into her. She had never quite felt depressed in her life, but she imagined this is what it might feel like. For even when she had been at her loneliest, her most useless or hopeless, she had always been able to move. She had always been able to fight whatever it was. Even if it just meant walking down to visit Philippe, or taking a walk through the woods, or even making herself a cuppa. Sometimes, just the routine of doing something like that could be so lovely. It always helped.

She had been robbed of that agency, however. She’d become a prisoner in her own body and she hated it. All she could do was drink her teas and use her rubs and wait for Opal to decide she wanted to make her appearance into the world.

It was awful, though she refused to complain--at least in any serious way. Especially not to Hades. She knew that she had done this to herself and that she had to keep her head up and act as confident in this decision as possible. So, if she had to cry tears of frustration, she did it in the shower, where the water could wash the tears quickly away--or she did it when she was alone, kicking her legs until her blankets were in a tangle at her feet, full of rage that she could not expel.

So, yes--the room was depressing. It felt like a cage and Belle was wilting.

The idea of leaving it was very tempting, even if it would cause her to near-faint. Merida would be there, she was strong. And Belle would simply not faint.

She lifted her chin a bit and began to push the blankets off her legs. “Alright.” It took a few grunts and her shaky arms to get her sitting up properly. Already, she shivered from the cold and the effort. Everything spun a bit and she felt nauseous. “You’ll have to bring me back up before Hades comes home or he will be cross,” she told Merida as she swung her legs off the side of the bed.

MERIDA: Relief swept through her, head to toe. This would make everything much easier-- though her brain already jumped ahead, landing somewhere near the bottom of the stairs where she’d need to figure out her next steps. She was not foolish enough to think that she would be able to trick Belle the entire way. At some point, she must reveal why she needed Belle to leave. Why she must leave with Phoebus.

And there was not a lie that Merida could tell to convince Belle to trust her. Always, her misguided love for her demon of a husband would get in the way and obscure her thinking. It had so far, hadn’t it? Merida had had to tread carefully every step of this friendship to ensure she did not target Hades.

But she’d figure it out. Merida must. There was no room for mistakes. This was Merida’s chance.

She sucked her teeth though and made a show of rollin’ her eyes. “Pfft, your husband doesn’t scare me. I’ll go toe to toe with ‘im if he wants to throw a fit,” she said and every word of that was true. Truer than Belle could know.

“But I will, I will. Ah-- here--”

Merida moved to support Belle. “There ye go,” she said, calmly, as Belle stood on two legs. “Ye haven’t forgotten how to walk after all, eh?”

They started down the hall then. It was slow going. And half-way down the stairs, Merida’s phone vibrated in her pocket and she knew it was Phoebus who had arrived, Phoebus who was waitin’. Merida ignored it until they were right down at the bottom of the stairs. And then, Belle’s hand on the last of the stair posts, she pulled away and went to the coat closet to fetch Belle’s coat.

“Here-- to keep ye warm,” she said. “Can’t be too careful, eh?”

She’d caught up with her brain now. Her brain was still churning. Now what? Now what?

Belle put on the coat. Merida didn’t have any more time to stall and no lie to tell.

She swallowed. “Belle.” She hesitated. Her gut felt sicker than ever (just the curse though, Merida told herself, which was why she had-- she needed-- she didn’t have another choice.)

“I’m-- I’m sorry. I need ye to come with me outside.”

BELLE: Belle knew that she shouldn’t be doing this. Hera had warned against it, not just because she could catch something, but because she was weak—her body under a great deal of stress. Too much of that stress could start Braxton Hicks, or worse: actual labor. That was why pregnant women were put on bedrest to start: to prevent pre-term labor.

But it was just a trip downstairs. She had done it once or twice with Hades too in the last month, even though she had been steadily declining in overall health. It would be fine, as long as they took their time and Belle stayed put once they were downstairs. And she wanted it so desperately. It was selfish, she knew that. Not at all the motherly thing to do. She just wanted to do something for herself. Just a trip downstairs, for a change of view, so she stopped feeling so trapped.

The stairs were humiliating, Belle shaky and out of breath by the end of it. She couldn’t catch her breath properly for a few seconds, panting and trying to draw in deeper breaths. It didn’t help that she had significantly less lung capacity these days. She stood there and tried to keep from wanting to be sick, gripping at the bannister with sweaty fingers. All she could think about was how pathetic she looked—how much she wanted to cry.

Merida shoved her overcoat at her. Why would she do that? Belle’s soft, warm golden cardigan was right there on the peg. That was what she always wore around the house when she got chilly. Her brain was too foggy to properly put this into words. She was still trying to catch her breath when Merida said her name.

“I—told you, Merida, I cannot go outside,” Belle said this rather crossly, because she was in no mood to be reminded of her invalidity. She took a little step towards the living room. “Will you grab my cardigan, please? It’s—much softer.”

MERIDA: Merida took in a breath and filled her lungs with it. When she exhaled, there was still no lie on the tip of her tongue. She knew the time for lying was done now. If anything was going to get Belle out willingly...it would be the truth. The truth and nothing less. If that did not work, then Merida would do her duty.

But before that. For the sake of their friendship--

Merida kneeled in front of Belle on one knee, as a proper knight would.

“Belle, I’m not-- my name is not Merida Cawdor and I am not just a magizoology student at Pride U. I am Merida DunBroch. I come from the Order of the Prince, and it is my sworn duty to protect the innocent against the evils of the world. I’ve been watchin’ over you all along. And I fear-- the babe inside you, and your husband-- you’ve been bewitched by a very dark and dangerous force. Outside is my comrade. We’ve come to help you. We’ll take you some place safe, where the Knights of the Order will help you through the rest of your pregnancy-- so you won’t have to wear the awful tourmaline anymore, so ye won’t feel sick, so ye won’t be-- a prisoner to this dark magic.”

She looked up from the ground, lifting her blue eyes to Belle’s own. She felt more like herself than she had in months. She felt like a woman. A warrior. A knight.

“I swear on me sword, Belle, that what I speak is all true.”

BELLE: Belle had not been looking at Merida. In fact, she had already taken another step towards the living room, though she was holding onto the banister still, just in case. Her sights were set on the couch and how nice it would be to curl up there.

She heard something clunk and turned around to find Merida on one knee, her head bowed slightly.

Now, Belle had seen a lot of strange sights in her life: demons and dragons and spells and curses and a very large portion of the Underworld. She had died and come back to life. She’d seen one of her dearest friends dragged from the depths of a black lake by the dead father of his boyfriend. She had heard ghosts. But nothing was as strange as Merida getting down on one knee and rattling off as if she was in the 1500s. Speaking of knights and some order and Belle “bewitched by a very dark and dangerous force.”

For several long seconds, after everything was said and done, Belle was silent. She was silent, because at first—she thought she was hallucinating. But, no, she blinked and Merida was still there, down on one knee—staring up at her earnestly. Then, she thought it was some sort of terrible joke. And she wanted to laugh, really, she did. Instead, however, a very, very bad feeling began to sink into her bones. The cold of that feeling colder than any ghost inside of Belle. It made her throat go a little dry and her heart start beating harder as she realized what this was—

Merida, with a comrade outside. Merida, acting very strange. Merida, trying to get her down the stairs. It was all a trick—and Belle had fallen for it.

“I’m not a prisoner,” was all she could think to say. She lifted her chin. “You need to leave.” Her fingers turned white as they gripped at the wood of the bannister.

MERIDA: The look Belle gave her made shivers go down her spine. She did not believe Merida-- she did not trust Merida. Merida saw all this in that one glance and the unease in her own stomach grew. It had been a risky shot. She’d known the odds of Belle seein’ through her fog, whether it was magical or just…a toxic harmful love, were rare. But she’d wanted to take that chance. Didn’t Belle deserve that chance? Didn’t their friendship?

Because the friendship was not a lie. Merida liked Belle more than she liked just about anyone in this whole damn town. She was a good woman. And Merida wanted to help her.

She would.

Slowly, Merida rose again, unshaken by Belle’s horrid look. In fact, her conviction was stronger, even if she must prepare herself to take Belle by force (somethin’ that really made her wanna be sick, but there was no time for that.)

“I’m sorry, I can’t do that. Not without you. Please, Belle-- I don’t want to force you,” Merida said, speaking slowly, her hand outstretched, almost like she was approaching a spooked horse. “And you don’t want to endanger your baby, do you? If you just come with me, I can help you.”  

BELLE: Merida came towards her and Belle moved back. She was afraid, yes, but fear had never frozen Belle. Fear turned her blood into fire. She could hear it now, rushing in her ears, her heart pumping it faster through her. That outstretched hand was a claw, a sword, a weapon. Her mind searched frantically for a solution--even as part of her knew she was outmatched, no matter which way the situation was sliced.

However, there was one thing she did know. That she wasn’t going without a fight.

“You’re the one endangering her by threatening me,” Belle snarled--glancing around for something, anything to grab.

MERIDA:

Right, Merida’s temper flared at that. Her calm demeanor flickered in and out of focus with a twist of her mouth. She nearly snapped but-- took a deep breath instead. Phoebus, even her mum, would’ve been proud of her.

She just reminded herself that Belle was, y’know, delusional. Under the spell of the cursed magic or that of the misguided love of her husband. Either was tricky.

“No I’m not,” she said. “I’m sayin-- I don’t want to hurt ye. But these are my orders, Belle. I’m sorry, you have to come with m--”

Belle chucked somethin’ at her head.

Merida barely ducked and dodged it. “OI!” She exclaimed. Right, patience lost again. “Belle! C’mon, you’re gonna stress yourself out! Calm down!”

BELLE: Her orders? Since when did Merida listen to orders? Since when did she think that orders to take someone from their home were something worth following? It didn’t matter if she didn’t want to hurt Belle, because she would--she already had. Talking about dark magic and Belle trapped in a spell, like she wasn’t here of her own free will--or if she was, she was insane for doing so. What happened to the girl who’d promised her she’d defend Hades? That asked after the baby at any given opportunity?

Belle saw now that it was all lies and deceit. Every moment of it.

The fury blinded her (or maybe it was tears). She had backed up far enough to reach some of the books on the shelves next to the stairs and she grabbed one and threw it as hard as she could. Merida was close enough it almsot hit her.

Belle grabbed another and threw that too--and then another.

“Get OUT!” she yelled. “I’m not going anywhere with you.” She clutched the side of the bookshelf for a moment, panting at the exertion, but she grabbed another book all the same--ready to throw that one too.

MERIDA: Belle was pelting her with books.

And Merida didn’t have time for it.

She put a hand up just in time for one of the hardcovers to smack against her palm-- but that was the only shot that Belle would get in. Merida’s eyes flashed. The book was but a paperweight; the tick of her clock runnin’ down pierced a great deal more painful. The hand of it was spun up, the seconds spilling out.

The last thing she’d need is Phoebus gettin’ out of his damn cruiser and busting up here to jeer and undermine her. It would be the last thing that Belle needed too. Trust me, she’d tell Belle. But it was clear she wouldn’t. Didn’t.

That stung but Merida didn’t have time for the guilt either.

So she launched into action. She moved forward and grabbed Belle’s wrist which held a book. She was thin as a wisp to Merida, pale as a candle waxxing down to the quick. In one fluid motion, Merida twisted Belle’s arm painfully behind herself. The book clattered to the ground and the tip of Merida’s knife kissed Belle’s throat.

“Now I’m threatening you,” she said calming into Belle’s hair. “Don’t move. One nick of this knife and you’ll feel the poison of its tourmaline for weeks.” I’d know. “I’m really sorry I have to do this, Belle. I am.”

BELLE: It was having to stop that was her downfall. Belle had chucked three, four books—but then, her strength gave out and her head spun. If she’d not been hanging onto the bookshelf, she would’ve fallen over, she was sure of it. There were tears in her eyes and her lips trembled as she gasped for breath—cursing her stupidity and the tourmaline and the weight of her midsection.

Everything happened very quickly then. Especially for Belle, who moved through a fog as if it was water. Merida grabbed her wrist, twisted it, making Belle cry out and drop the book—her only weapon. Always her only weapon.

Still, her shoulders wiggled feebly and she went to try to tug away, her foot sliding against the hardwood floor. But Merida had the knife pressed to her neck much quicker.

If Belle had thought she was afraid before, it was nothing compared to the fear that crawled through her now, snatching her breath. That fear was ice in her veins, freezing her in place. The scar on her chest burned and she remembered. She had been in this position before. A knife pressed to her neck, a command on the wielder’s lips.

Blinking rapidly to dismiss the tears from her eyes, Belle drew in a sharp breath, and then another. With every one, she felt the tip of the knife press against her skin.

“If you were sorry,” she snarled—that fear once again melting into fire, “you wouldn’t be doing it at all.” She held her chin up then, sucking in another breath and the tears with them. At least she wasn’t dead yet. Urania had wasted no time stabbing her. Which meant—wherever she was going, whatever they were planning…she had time to plan herself. Though, as soon as she thought it, the desperation came clawing back.

What was she to do? Pregnant, weak, and a Mundus besides?

MERIDA: Merida took a deep breath, to cool her inner fire. It felt hotter than normal, and somethin’ else was humming in her. She recognized it from her dreams, and it made her-- scared.

Merida shut that down. She didn’t do scared. Merida didn’t do regret either. The adrenaline was good, she told herself, it was just Merida feeling like herself. And the twist in her stomach, she knew it would fade. She wouldn’t wear it for Phoebus either way; he’d think it was weakness. (It was-- compassion. And maybe that was weakness. Right now, Merida didn’t know and decided not to think on it.)

“I told you-- I’m doin’ this for you. Walk,” she said and kicked at the back of Belle’s heel. She had to force Belle the first few steps anyway, then slid out the door.

You could see the police cruiser there, idling on the road. Merida kicked at Belle’s heels again to get her to walk onto the stone steps.

“The Order’s not like this backward town thinks, alright?” she said as they went, feeling-- desperate to have Belle understand. “I’ve a fairy godmother, y’know. We’re not anti-magic, we’re just anti-evil. And sure, it’s not--it’s not perfect, but I’m aimin’ to change the stupid shite, but I can’t do that till I prove myself and-- this is a step to that.  If you met any of my friends, my family, you’d see. We do good. We keep people safe. And if anyone needs us it’s Swynlake.”

They were off the path, Merida struggling Belle through the snow.

“And I am your friend. That’s-- when we met, it wasn’t-- planned. I didn’t know-- anythin’ about your husband then, who you were, what was goin’ to happen. I helped because that’s what I do, because I’m good. And then when we learned what yer husband was...look, I’d rather it be me, doin’ this, than ol Phoebus, wouldn’t you?”

BELLE: Merida kicked at her heel, scraping against the back of it. It stung and caused Belle to stumbled forwards slightly. She fought the whole way to the car, as much as she could. Hoping to stall. However much time she could buy, she needed to try. Hades would be home soon—within the hour. If she made it difficult, perhaps they wouldn’t get far. Though, how he was going to know where she was or where she was going, Belle wasn’t sure. She was hoping the ghosts, not that she trusted their loyalty all that much, but perhaps Arthur, the attic ghost, would take pity and at least tell him that it was a police cruiser that she was forced into.

Hades would put it together as quickly as Belle had—even with her mind in a fog.

Phoebus. Merida was working with Phoebus. The wound of betrayal slashed even deeper inside of Belle’s heart and she wished her brain was working quick enough that she could comb back through every interaction with Merida and try to determine if there had ever been a single hint.

As it were—she was using half her brain to determine whether or not screaming would be worth it. She decided, ultimately, that no—it wouldn’t. Gods, she wanted Shuck. If Shuck were here he would’ve torn Merida to pieces.

The other half of her brain was focused on what Merida was saying. Not that she believed one bit of it, no. She was trying to find some hint of where they were going or what Merida and Phoebus’ plan was. Anything that would help. Nothing she said was helpful—all she was doing was prattling on about the “Order” and attempting to, what it sounded like, assuage her guilt for kidnapping a heavily pregnant, ill woman.

Belle had many things to say: that a friend would never do this, no matter what. They would find another way. They would be absolutely sure about who they were trying to “protect” their friend from. This was Berlioz all over again. And Belle felt her world getting smaller and smaller. Shrinking down to just herself, Hades, and the baby. She could tell Merida that Hades was innocent, that he wasn’t evil. She could explain it all to her. Answer her questions.

But Merida’s words were not the words of someone willing to listen. They were the words of a mad woman. And so, Belle maintained her stony silence as Merida opened the door and shoved her inside the cruiser.

The car wasted no time being thrown into gear and crunching down the gravel.

“Took you long enough,” Phoebus said to Merida before catching Belle’s gaze in the mirror. “Don’t worry, love. You do what we need, and no harm will come to you.”

“And what do you need?” she snarled, her chin still lifted. There were no more tears in her eyes.

“All in due time,” he told her as the car turned back towards the main road.

Belle turned her own gaze towards the window and watched as all the familiar landmarks rolled by. Her vision swam before her, looking out the window making her feel even more nauseous than before. Part of her wondered why they hadn’t blindfolded her. Seemed stupid to her. Then again, maybe she was supposed to know where they were going.

Or, maybe—it didn’t matter.

MERIDA: Merida glared at Phoebus soon as the two of them plopped in the car, Belle in the back and Merida comin’ round the front. You’d think it would kill the banger to give her a decent compliment for once. Like, good job, Merida, you got a heavily pregnant, extremely ill woman down the stairs and to my car in one piece!

But she’d long given up for such a thing as a compliment from Phoebus. (She hadn’t, really. But she told herself the compliments would come when the rest of the Order finally saw her. Wouldn’t be so long now. They’d take down the Ambassador and it’d be drinks round the table and Phoebus endorsing her like he said he would-- he’d be stupid not to, look how much she’d gotten done in a year with little trainin’ compared to the boys who spent over four years before their first hunt.)

(And that’s why she was doin’ this. It felt awful, usin’ Belle, but-- she just wanted people to see her.)

She propped up a foot against the dash, ignoring the glare that Phoebus sent her way. Swallowed her smart comments too. Instead she kept her gaze forward. The clock ticked down under her skin. Wouldn’t be long now.

Wasn’t long at all. Swynlake was cozy, its winding roads short and no traffic besides. And who would stop a cruiser? They traveled in plain sight, a sleekly painted trojan horse.

They pulled up to the cathedral. Merida got out first, movin’ round to the back to grab Belle out. She got her knife out so Belle knew this wasn’t optional. Though she hated the burning look Belle gave her.

If only she’d see Merida too.

“C’mon,” she said brusquely and yanked Belle out-- harder than she’d been when they were alone in the house. Phoebus’s eyes were on them both. “Don’t think about screamin’,” she hissed in her ear, kickin’ her heel again like Belle was some sort of pony.

They stumbled their way to the cathedral. Merida kept her grip on Belle tight.