Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

 Two months. 

 Two months has been since you been starting to work at the castle as one of the servants — You came from a poor family in the outskirts of a town nearby the castle, you remember the way your family brought in, they practically begged for anyone to take you as a servant.  

 And so, they did, you became one.   

 As a servant of the castle, you helped to clean rooms, attend to the kitchen, or help with other activities of the castle. Your job was never done. Over the months you had a good relationship with the other servants as you were always polite and kind with them, and in return, they offered you solace and even found themselves forming a deep bond with you. Sometimes you even found yourself sharing some stories from your childhood and how hard it was to grow up in terrible living conditions at the time. 
 
 Well, you got along with everyone, except him; 
 
 Forte, maestro Forte. 
 

 
 The first time you two met was when you were exploring the castle so you would get familiar with the place, you ended up reaching a chamber below where your ears caught the sound of an organ pipe.  You curiously decided to follow the sound of the music, that is when you arrived there and saw him sat on the grand chamber playing the pipe organ, he was completely focused on it. He was sat at the bench, and he had an aura of a cold gloominess that seemed to spread through all over the room, you were captivated by the haunting sounds of the pipe organ — it was a mixture of a depressive tone and a sadness that seemed so... Embracing, it sent you shivers down your spine. 
 
 While you had found yourself captivated by the music, Forte on the other hand, had barely registered your presence on his chamber. He had a small sardonic grin tugging at the corner of his lips, but his attention was only focused on his music as he played the keyboards of the pipe organ. 
 
 And with a final flourish, he ended the opus, as the last notes faded into the air. 
 
 He sat up from his bench and turned his gaze towards you, his dark eyes carried a glint of indifference and detachment as his sardonic grin turned into a smirk, while he addressed you with a condescending tone. 
 
“My, my, what do we have here... A lowly servant girl who stumbled in the middle of my practice, tell me...” He began, his lips forming a mocking smirk. “Who are you, my dear?” 
 
 His condescending tone and the mocking smirk sent you a ripple of annoyance through your body, but you forced yourself a polite smile on your face. “I am but a mere servant, I am new to the castle and I... I am sorry for having interrupted you, Monsieur...?” 
 
 He tilted his head slightly up as he approached you, he walked with a such air of confidence and arrogance that made you feel a sinking feeling of discomfort on your stomach, as if you were nothing but an insignificant insect beneath him. 
 
“Forte, my dear, maestro and head composer of the castle,” He spoke pompously, “As for intruding? I hardly think, my dear. It is not everyday someone has the chance to catch me in one of my practices.” He leaned his head ever so close as his dark eyes were scrutinizing you. “Since you heard, tell me my dear, what did you think of it?” 
 
 Blinking in surprise by his sudden approach, your polite smile faltered ever so slightly but you quickly recomposed yourself. “It was magnificent, maestro. I never heard such music before.” You spoke your earnest, despite the gloomy and depressing sound — It was magnificent. 
 
 His eyes gleamed with a hint of approval, he gave you a low chuckle as he was clearly satisfied by your response, a bit too much if you asked. 
 
“Ah, you flatter me, my dear, but then, everything I do is quite magnificent.” He spoke once again carrying the tone of superiority, and then as he gazed down at you his smirk was quickly replaced by a curl of disdain. 
 
“Now, you said you were one of the new servants of the castle, do you? Hmm, interesting, well,” He waved a dismissive hand. “Run along now, servant. I have other affairs to attend to and do not wish to be bothered — return to your duties.” 
 
 You nodded quickly as you scattered your feet towards the door chamber and before you opened it, you had glanced over your shoulder, Forte had returned to his post on the bench as he began to play once again the music. 
 

 
 Now, at this very moment, you stood again at the same door, hearing the music from behind it. Your heart was pounding on your chest, it has been a while since your first encounter with him and ever since you could not shake a nagging feeling that there was more to that man that you could ever know, you shook your head briefly as you began to walk away from the door, the music fading away by each step. 
 
 But you knew this was not the last time you were going to see him around. 

Chapter Text

 Outside, a storm was raging. The heavy downpour was splattering against the windowpane, each droplet cascading down, it was a comfortable sound to his ears. Inside, he sat there at his desk with a small candle next to him, he was engrossed in his music sheet as he held in his hand a quill pen. This was his next composition. He had been working since he ever came back to his... human form, to his disgust. 

  It has been a while, hasn't it?   

 Months ago, when they all returned to be humans again, they fought that he had died, and well, he did indeed die, but when the curse broke then, he was granted another life, much to everyone's shock, including his own. 

  Human flesh, these feelings... are repulsive. 

 Nobody wanted to take him back, for after what he tried to do; He tried to kill Adam and Belle, along with the other inhabitants of the castle. But Belle, out of her mercy, convinced Adam to let Forte stay in the castle, despite everything he had ever done, and with much persuasion, he let Forte come to the castle. But of course, the other servants did not like him or forgive him for what he tried to do, and much to Forte’s displeasure, his former apprentice, Fife, was nominated as the current maestro and court composer of the castle. Although Forte refused to let his title go, he considered himself above his pathetic excuse of an apprentice. 

 Now, most of these days, he found himself locked up in his chamber, only playing his music for himself, he did not need anyone. He did not need the master, no, let all of them fade away while he finds his only comfort in his music, a way to make him forget his emotions and thoughts.

 Knock, knock. 
  
 His eyes snapped open as he glanced over his shoulder. There, at the threshold of the door was Belle, she was stepping inside. 

“Monsieur Forte?” Belle called him as she gently approached his desk. “May I speak with you for a moment?” she asked. 

“Ah, the esteemed Mistress of the castle graces me with her presence. How utterly charming.” he murmured as his lips formed a curl of disdain, and he turned back his attention towards the music sheet as his fingers tightened slightly around the quill pen. 

 As she hovered near his desk, she took a moment to inspect the man before her, he had changed so much since the last time she saw him, it was not his physical appearance but his demeanor overall. He is spending much more time alone in his chamber, barely interacting with anyone. By pity, she convinced Adam to take him back to the castle as Forte, he was a member of it, and If the Beast changed, why couldn’t he?  

 Belle could not place her finger on what exactly was bothering her — something felt extremely off when she looked at him. And even despite everything, she felt responsible for him to some certain extent, she cared for everyone in the castle, and he was included.  

“What are you looking at, peasant girl?” he hissed at her, his dark eyes flashing with irritation in her direction, which caused Belle to be caught off guard.  

“Monsieur Forte, I would prefer if you had a little bit of more respect towards me.” she spoke firmly as her hazel gaze lingered on his annoyed face.

“Now, for the reason I am here, I merely wish to speak with you about... your behavior lately these days. You seem off, more than the normal, is something wrong?” 

 Forte tilted his head at her, he clearly had an unpleasant look as his dark gaze fell upon her, he waved his hand dismissively and sat up from his chair as he proceeded to stride towards the other side of the room, he lowered his head ever so slightly as he turned it to gaze at her.  

“You? Oh, please, my dear, do you truly think that I would talk with you? YOU, from all people?!” he spat as he shook his head. “Now, do me a favor, you wretched girl, and don't meddle in matters that do not concern you.” 
 
“But please—”  

“Leave, NOW.” he lashed out as he turned his attention fully on her, he strode and stood in front of her, his facing contorted in seething anger. 

 Belle widened her eyes as she felt a shiver run down her spine as he locked her eyes on his. They were a mixture of anger and bitterness, but she knew better than to argue with him, and as she sighed in exasperation, she made her way out of his chamber.  

  Insufferable, miserable, stupid woman…   

 He loathed her, her presence irked him to the core. But he could not pick on what he loathed more about her, if it were her such caring and hopeful demeanor that since their first encounter irked him to the core or was the fact that even now, she tried to make him feel… accepted.  

 And then there was master, ah, yes — Master, Prince Adam. He used to be such an arrogant and whiny brat, always complaining about everything. While Forte had a dislike for the young prince back then, after the castle was hit with the curse, he exclusively tried to manipulate Adam for all those years so he could pretend to be his friend. He was only using the prince for his own selfish approval and his desire for control, but internally, he was a broken man — as he perceived himself, he could not bear the thought of being discarded, and yet at the same time, he craved the twisted feeling of attention, even as much as he told himself that he did not need anyone. 

 It is pathetic, honestly.  

 On a quiet evening in the library, Belle was seated on a comfortable armchair while reading a book by the name of “ Le Lys dans la Vallée” , but she found herself unable to focus on her reading, her mind drifting off towards a nagging problem that she could not ignore.  

 With a deep heavy sigh, she closes the book and gets up from her armchair as she walks towards a nearby bookshelf and places “Le Lys dans la Vallée” back on same spot. As she turned her back, she was immediately greeted with the sight of her husband, Adam, who stood at threshold of the library door with a soft expression on his features. 
 
“Belle...” he spoke as he approached his wife with a slow stride, he stood in front of her as he pressed a gentle kiss on her forehead. His blue eyes gleamed with fondness as he gazed upon the woman that changed his life. 
 
“Adam, what are you doing here?” she gave him a gentle smile as she pressed a soft kiss on his cheek. 
 
 Adam gave her a knowing look, a wry smile forming on his lips as he gestured towards a nearby clock; it was almost midnight. 
 
“Let’s say I only wanted to check upon you since it is getting very late, and I figured you were at the library.” he explained. “But... you seem kind distant, is everything all right Belle?” Adam asked as he took a moment to gaze at her face, he could see that something was troubling her. 

“Well, not exactly… I have been worried about…” she trailed her words off for a moment, “Forte.” 

“Forte?” He furrowed his eyebrows, followed by a heavy sigh. “Belle, despite Forte living at our castle, you know you do not need to worry about him, right? He knows how to take care of himself, he always did, and we do have servants..."
 
 Belle bit her lower lip as an uncertain expression crossed her soft features, she knew Adam was trying to brush off her concerns and it made some sense, but this was not her style. 
 
“I understand but... something is wrong with him, and I can feel it, Adam.” 
 
“Look, Belle. We already had this discussion before, you know Forte is not exactly—”

“Yes, I know,” she interrupted him, causing Adam to arch an eyebrow. “But we are not fools Adam, that… melancholy demeanor, is not right.” 

 Adam sighed as he walked towards a nearby chair and let his body sink down at the softness of it, his eyes darted towards his wife as he saw her approach. Despite her conflicted expression that crossed her features, she gave him a small gentle smile. 

 He smiled back, his gaze warming at her sight. She then walked to a nearby chair located next to his, she sat there quietly as her hands found their way towards his, intertwining with such care and devotion.

 A comfortable silence passed through the couple, Adam shifted on his chair, and he tilted his head. 

“You are really worried?” 

“Yes.” 

 He sighed imperceptible, he placed his hand under his chin as he fixated his gaze over a nearby lamp, he was lost in his thoughts for a moment until he spoke again; 

“What do you suggest?”

“I am sorry Madame, but, excuse me ?” you questioned aloud, you almost dropped tray of food on the ground as you heard her words. 

 Belle chuckled at your reaction, her hazel eyes flickering with amusement and mischief. 

“You heard me, my dear. I want you to take care of Monsieur Forte from now one and I assure you, do not worry about your other tasks and schedules, I have taking care of that,” she said with a simple smile, as she called over a servant who took the tray out of your hands and quickly excused themselves. 

“Me and Mrs. Potts have re-organized your schedules as a worker of the castle,” you blinked twice in shock, but Belle continued, “I want you to exclusively attend Monsieur Forte needs, and such as keeping him company.”  

“M-Madame, why?” your voice was trembling slightly, you couldn't fathom why she would pick you for this kind of job, it was all against the regulations.

 This was not only against the regulations but you barely knew Forte, you had a few interactions with him, but wouldn’t call yourself not even his acquaintance. 

 To your surprise and exasperation, she chuckled and said; 

“You have something special, my dear, and I believe you are the right person for this. Now, excuse me.” Belle nodded and turned away from you, disappearing on the next corner of the corridor. 

“What could possibly go wrong?” you muttered to yourself, shaking your head as you made your way towards the corridors. 

Chapter Text

 The sun began to slowly rise through the sky as the rays of the sunlight filtered through the castle curtains, another day had begun, and the servants were already awake and for their duties. But on a darker corner of the castle, there in his private chamber was Forte, still sleeping on bed, until a sharp ray fell straight upon his face.

He groaned as he felt a ray of sunlight fall upon his face, he cracked one eye open, the lids were heavy, but he had to open despite the inconvenience of the sun, he squinted his eye. There was a scowl already forming on his face as he threw his head to the other side, he buried his face on the pillow and huffed. Time to wake up. With a resigned sigh he pushed himself up from the plush mattress beneath him, he swung his legs gracefully off the edge of the grand canopy bed, and with reluctant movements he made his way towards an imposing mirror on the wall.

His dark eyes lingered on his reflection; his wig was a mess at the top of his head, rebellious strands of hair were making it like a lion's mane. He rolled his eyes as he glanced over a nearby desk, he reached for a hairbrush and began to brush his lager wig slowly but precisely, it was a lot of hard work to keep his appearance as perfect as it is, but it all paid off.

Setting the hairbrush aside, his nimble fingers made their way towards the buttons of his silk nightshirt, unbuttoning with carelessly, his movements carried a sense of routine that he had grown accustomed. The silk fabric slipped through his hands, exposing his pale chest, and he let it drop on the floor. His eyes flickered at his reflection; he was not overly stout nor that lean, but even with his age he managed to keep an average body frame. Forte sighed as he shook his head, he had other things to attend to rather than take a critical look at himself. This was his morning routine, every single day.

With a final look at his reflection, he made his way towards the wardrobe on the corner of the room, he opened it and quickly slipped into his usual regal attire, and with some last touches at his cravat, he was ready for another dreadful existence.

Forte could not deny the way he felt every morning—empty inside, it was a nagging feeling that he had for some years prior, even before the day he arrived at the castle. Memories from a darker time, memories where despair and fear clung into everyone's essence, like some heavy pressure on the chest.

The war.

An involuntary memory that always made his skin crawl, back at his younger days he had seen atrocities far crueler than anyone else, friends and family, tortured and killed. His breath quivered and his entire body trembled, he took a sharp inhale and made his way towards the edge of his bed where he sat there.

His hands were shaking, he clenched into fists, a futile attempt to hold his turmoil, he grunted and shook his head. He remembers very well: before the war started, he was a very bright musician, he was a prodigy; his skill was raw since his youthful age. He was starting his career until war happened. His once lively compositions became somber and gloomy as the war went by, he saw in firsthand the conflict between humans, how life was so fragile.

He abruptly stood up and he paced around his chamber, his eyes were darting around every corner as his breath was ragged, each labored gasp made him feel like he was suffocating. He saw the bodies, countless lives taken by humans, the wretched stench of the dead filling up his senses, the faces contorted into agony and the lifeless eyes that gazed at nowhere. Panic was threatening to consume him completely as he felt something tighten inside his chest.

His breath itched and he made his way towards a chair, and she sat down, he placed his trembling hand over his chest, gasping for air as he clenched his teeth. Time seemed to pass by, and he finally managed to steady himself, albeit slightly. He was sweating and his hands were still trembling, but he felt like he was suffocating.

He gazed down at the floor, his thoughts a wrecking mess, but in the end, after the war ended, he was consumed by a deep-seated hate towards humanity, feelings and anything that was related towards happiness.

Happiness...

Such concept and emotion he longer felt and refused to do it so. In a world like this, were blood and brutality reigns, were despair gnawed at every corner of humanity—there was no room for it. He became cynical and bitter, his music was the only thing that kept him from not going over the edge, not yet at least. He tried to end it all, two times during his life. This first attempt was after the war ended, he longer felt like he was before and at night he tried to drink poison, but he was saved by a distant cousin, who claimed he was deranged after. His second attempt was when he was brought back to life, at his human form after the curse was broken, it devastated him, he hated his flesh, so he tried to end it by hanging himself, but that time he held back because of fear. At that time, he was afraid.

He had an experience, when he died; it just happened, he did not have any memories from it but every time he had tried to record—it was just like a void on his mind. A nagging sense of dread that held him back.

How much of a complex man he can be, he wants to end it all but is afraid, he despises everyone but needs, craves, attention.

He does not want to be alone.

Then, suddenly a knock on the door startled him, Forte quickly stood up from his chair and took a steady breath, adjusting his cravat. His scowl was already forming on his face as he took steps closer towards the door, his mind was wondering who could be at this hour of the day, but as he opened the door, he was slightly surprised to see who stood in front him, but still mildly annoyed.

"Monsieur Forte, good morning." You said with a quick bow as you tugged your housekeeper dress slightly up.

The servant girl. The corner of his lips twitched in a curl of disdain but before he could have said anything, you quickly addressed your motives.

"Monsieur, I am here today to inform you that from now on! I will be attending your needs; I will be your caretaker by request of Madame Belle."

Forte widened his eyes, his features contorting into an expression of outrage and offense. Did he hear this correctly, caretaker?!

"What?! Belle? Who does she think she is to just simply impose a caretaker on ME? I will not allow this, go away." Forte snapped as he pushed you aside and stormed his way through the halls.

You muttered under your breath as you ran towards him, catching up with his pace. He let out a low groan.

"Monsieur, please listen—" you began to speak, only to be interrupted by a sharp retort.

"Listen to what, exactly?" he snapped, as he marched towards a large wooden door down the hall. "About how they think I am deranged? Do not dare to give me that look," he snarled as he finally turned to your face, "I know too well what all of you think. But let me tell you this: I do not need your pity."

Your breath caught up in your throat, the way he spoke those words had a dangerous edge and could not help but to feel frustrated even due to the fact that despite you not being close to him, he had no right to assume what you thought of him.

"I may not speak for everyone, but I assure you that I do not think you are deranged, Monsieur. Madame Belle though you might need—"

"Assistance? Care? Attention?" he scoffed and pushed the wooden doors open, strolling his way towards the imposing pipe organ on the room. "This implies that I am incapable of taking care of myself, which, I am not."

Taking a deep breath, you held your head high and remained calm, "I am not here to impose upon you, nor take pity. I was merely task helping you with your daily needs, Monsieur."

Forte abruptly stopped and slowly turned his head towards you, he narrowed his eyes and let out a low chuckle.

"Let me give you a task then," he slowly approached you, his dark eyes glaring with a hint of danger. "Leave me alone."

With that, he turned his face towards the pipe organ as he took his place on the bench. His nimble fingers found their way through the keys and a haunting melody was filling the chamber. You let out a deep sigh, this is going to be difficult.

Making your way towards his side as you clasped your hands together, you cleared your throat, speaking in a calm yet firm tone. "I understand your need for solitude, Monsieur. But Madame has given me orders, and I am here to fulfill my duties."

Forte's fingers faltered on the keyboard, his lips forming a thin line as he turned his head towards you. His nostrils flared and for a moment you thought he was going to lash at you, but instead, he merely tilted his head and clenched his jaw.

"Very well."

 The afternoon arrived in a blur as you saw the dim light filtering through the heavy dark curtains of the chamber, you had been cleaning up his chamber while he played through all the morning. You glanced over a clock nearby, it was 3:00 PM.

"Monsieur," you began gentle but probing, "It is already afternoon, would like me to fetch refreshments? You have been playing for hours. You know, taking a break..."

Forte did not bother to look at you, he kept his focus solely on his music. "I do not recall asking for your opinion, and no, I do not require refreshments, servant girl." He retorted.

You bit your lower lip and shifted slightly, you held the urge to retort him back, so instead, you smiled.

"But Monsieur," you persisted, taking a step close to him, "you have been in here for hours, if you do not want refreshments at least take a stroll, maybe through the gardens or—"

"I said I am fine!" he snapped as he hit the keys harshly, causing a discordant tone. "Are you too stubborn? Do not tell me what I should do, girl."

You stepped back, casting a downward glance over the floor. Muttering an apology under your breath, you decided that for now it was better to not engage with him for the moment. Despite the harsh and rude treatment, he has been giving you and your own feelings of frustration and exhaustion, you felt a deep pang of sympathy for Forte; it was clear as the day he has problems, even if you did not know what they were, it weighted on his mind.

Deciding it was best to leave him for a moment, you quickly glanced around the chamber, searching for any spot you might have left, and, after this, you would bring him something to drink a glass of wine from Bordeaux with piece of quiche Lorraine to compliment. An afternoon snack worthy of him. But then something got your attention, on the corner of the chamber.

As the light filtered through the curtain, the ray of the sun fell square into a shelf with several small boxes, books, and certain papers, it was partially hidden behind a large old curtain. Your curiosity got the better of you, glancing quickly at the maestro who was too focused on his own music, you made your way towards the shelf and pushed the curtains to the side.

You looked up at the shelf, while you were not exactly tall nor that small, the shelf was placed too high for your taste. Standing on the tip of your toes, you tried to reach one of the books that were up there, but you still could not reach it. Frustrated, you gripped your hand on the edge, putting a slight pressure, and with the other you tried to stretch more—until a jerky movement of your hand caused a small box filled with books and papers to be knocked over the shelf. Gasping in shock you quickly stepped back as you saw the books, papers and such fall on the floor, the box hit the floor with a thud sound.

Forte, who was too focused on his music, was startled as he heard the crashing sound, he turned his head back and at once registered what had happened.

"Do you have any idea what you did? You worthless girl?!" he bellowed, abruptly standing up from the bench and stormed towards your crouching trembling position.

"I-I am sorry Monsieur! It was an accident, I did not mean to do this!" you stammered, trying to stack the papers and reorganize it.

"Accident?" he mocked, his voice tone dripping with sarcasm and contempt. "Of course it was an accident, after all, you are such a clumsy fool. But tell me," he sneered as he towered over you, glaring at your small form, "do you have any idea on how much valuable those things are? Do you have any idea, you imbecile?"

His words cut through you, but you held back the urge to cry; you were frustrated and humiliated. You shook your head and lifted it up, meeting his wrathful dark gaze.

"I am trying my best, this was an accident, I never mean for this—"

"Your best? Is this your best?" he spat, his lips forming a wry smile. "Is your best to be a nuisance to me? Bothering me during my music with your stupid suggestions? Can you not see that you are a burden—"

"ENOUGH!" you shouted as your rose from your trembling knees, tears were forming in your eyes as you held your gaze.

Forte widened his eyes, staring at you with a mixture of shock, intrigue, and anger. He narrowed his eyes as he waited for you to continue.

"Since this morning, I have been trying to understand you, give some time to you but instead, all what I received was only rudeness!" you continued, your tone rising with every word. "I know I am here because of my duties, but after seeing you, alone and just on this chamber, I actually feel bad for you."

Forte lips formed a thin line as he absorbed your words, his anger was flaring up but before he could have said anything, you continued.

"I cannot understand what goes through your head, but I am willing to. You know, you are every lucky," you choked out with emotion as tears fell from your eyes, "to be such a talented musician, have a roof under your head and still, have people that worry about you—like Madame Belle!"

You did not care if tears were falling from your eyes. You did not bother at this point. "You push everyone who tries to help you. You are too drowned in your own self-pity and arrogance that you do not see the ones who try to help you. You are an old windbag, too proud to accept help! Too bitter, to see what is in front of you!"

Forte's expression was pure anger, but you saw in his eyes a different glint—pain? Regret? It was difficult to tell.

For his part, his mind was spinning; who did she think she was? To speak with him at such manner, and worst, to assume things and acknowledging it? Forte gritted his teeth and his nostrils flared, his chest was breathing heavily; he wanted to lash out, to humiliate her, to berate her down.

"You know nothing," he spat, his tone low and dangerous. "Nothing."

A heavy silence fell upon you two, the only sound coming was Forte's heavy breathing and your soft whimpers. Forte's hand trembled but he spoke nothing after, he turned his back and made his way towards his instrument, where he began to play the pipe organ once more but this time the notes seemed more discordant than ever.

You huffed; your anger was still shimmering through. But without another word, you stormed out of the chamber and made your way through the halls of the castle, you needed to calm yourself down. Strolling your way towards the courtyard of the castle, you reached the sprawling garden, which was found right near the castle's entrance gates, there was a variety of flowers and plants, each one creating a kaleidoscope of colors and scents. Taking a deep breath, you let the aromas enter your nostrils, and then you exhaled slowly, feeling completely at peace.

Slowly and carefully, you laid low on a patch of flowers, the afternoon sky was fading away as the first stars began to twinkle above, the hue of the sky shifting towards a more dusk hue, as the evening was approaching. But your thoughts drifted back to Forte and the argument you had with him, shame and guilt spread clung to your chest; you should not have said those words to him, since well, you barely knew that man deep well or what he went through.

"I am such an idiot..." you muttered, slowly rising from the ground, and brushing off your dress.

As you brushed your dress, your eyes fell upon a patch of lavender flowers, their petals gently swaying due to the evening breeze. A small tentative smile spread across your face as an idea popped into your mind.

When nighttime arrived, Forte was leaving his chamber. The event of the day was still on his mind, his mind was exhausted, and he was still seething in anger about the words you said. He arrived at his private chamber and his gaze fell upon a bouquet of flowers on his bed—lavender flowers.

He picked up one of the flowers, his fingers grazing gently the petals, but his expression was unreadable. The servant girl. She must have brought this to him as a peace offering? An apology? He scoffed.

He grabbed the bouquet and placed it on his bedside table, while he was preparing himself to sleep. As he lay down, his eyes drifted towards the violet petals who were almost shimmering due to the candlelight.

"Wretched girl..." he murmured, closing his eyes as he took a deep breath, the scent of lavender filled his senses.

Such wonderful fragrance, he wonders, if this is from the lavender only...