Y/N unlocked her cottage's front door. She sighed, taking in the picture-perfect pastoral scene before her. The morning started the same way every day in the small village of Villeneuve. At least it had been there for as long as Y/N had existed.
Depending on the season, the sun would slowly rise over the horizon, its rays turning the fields that surrounded the village greener or gold or white. Then, when they touched the whitewashed sides or Y/N's cottage, which stood right on the outskirts of the village, the rays would pass along before eventually illuminating the thatched roofs of the homes and stores that made up the village itself. The villagers themselves will be stirring by the time that happened, preparing for the day. Men would sit down inside their homes for their morning meals while the women prepared the kids or finished stirring the porridge. It would hush the village, as though they were still shaking off sleep.
The church's clock will strike eight times. And the village will come alive just like that. Hundreds of times, Y/N had seen it happen. Yet she was always amazed this morning, like every morning, as she stared down at the little town, full of the same people who went about their daily routines. She focused her warm eyes on them, sighing at the worldliness of it all. She also wondered what it was like to wake up the other way around. Y/N's head shook. This was life as she had known it, the life she had shared with her dad when they had moved to Paris several years ago. It did her no good to wonder or wish. It was a time to reflect on the past or what-ifs. She had things to do, errands to run, and a new adventure to explore - she looked down at the book clutched in her lap. Straightening her shoulders, Y/N pulled the door closed behind her and set off for the area.
Within minutes, Y/N was making her way down the cobblestone main street. She nodded distantly as she walked by other villagers. Though she had lived most of her life in the village, she always felt like an outsider there. It was remote and insular, like so many in the French countryside. There were born more of the citizens Y/N passes on her way and most will spend the rest of their lives there. The village, to them, was the universe. And outsiders have been looked at with caution.
Y/N wasn't completely sure that she wouldn't be regarded as an outsider even though she had been born in the village. She didn't even have anything in common with most people. And if she was honest, she seemed to love reading more than idle little chat - traveling to distant lands with wonderful adventures, even if only on the pages of her favorite books.
She listened, winding her way through the street while the rest of the villagers welcomed each other. She felt a pang of isolation watching each other meet one another. With the monotony of their morning routines, they all seemed perfectly happy. There seemed to be no one who shared her passion for something new and exciting, for something more. With the delicious scent of freshly baked bread wafting through the air, Y/N entered the baker's stand. The harried baker kept a tray of freshly baked baguettes, as always, and muttered to himself. "Bonjour," said Y/N. The guy absently nodded.
"One baguette..." Y/N looked at the row of jars filled with rich red jelly. She said, "And this, too S'il Vous plait," picking one up and slipping it into her apron pocket. She went on to finish her next errand.
When she stopped, she was just about to turn a corner. Next to her mule, Ymir, the female potter, stood looking lost. The cart attached to the mule was freshly filled with pottery. Ymir saw Y/N watching her and smirked, looking up.
"Morning Y/N," she said with a boyish, smooth voice. She was peering into his cart, a look of perplexity on her face. Y/N said in return, "Good morning, Ymir"
"Have you lost something?"
"What? No, I just feel like I've forgotten something," she said sadly, the girl looking at Y/N. She shrugged then. "Well, I'll remember later." The mule had none of this. He was trying to stick his nose in Y/N's pocket, searching for the apple she had hidden in the pocket, just in case she had run into Ymir. Giving a hard yank to the creature, Ymir managed to draw the mule's attention away from Y/N. But she did succeed in knocking the cart off balance as well.
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♥︎ 𝑩𝒆𝒏𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒉 𝒂 𝒃𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒕 𝒊𝒔 𝒂𝒍𝒘𝒂𝒚𝒔 𝒂 𝒃𝒆𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒚 ♥︎
FanfictionY/N dreams of adventures like the ones she reads about in her books-until she becomes the prisoner of a fearsome Beast in a mysterious, enchanted castle. But life in the castle isn't as terrible as Y/N imagines, and she soon realizes there is more t...