Beauty and the Beast (Hariana)

Chapter 2

Louis loved attention. He lived for it, in fact. Ever since he had been a small boy, he had sought out ways to make himself the center of attention. He walked before anyone else his age. He talked first, and as he got older, he grew taller and more handsome than anyone else. With his dark hair, piercing eyes, and broad shoulders, he was indeed good-looking. The girls loved him; the boys worshiped him. And Louis? He soaked up the attention and reveled in it.

But there was a limit to just how much attention Louis could get growing up in a small village. And it had irked him. Then, to his great delight, France had gotten involved in the war. Louis has seen the war not as an opportunity to defend his country but as a chance to wear a dashing uniform and woo the ladies, which he had done, with gusto, when he became a certified war hero—twelve years ago.

Louis still wore his uniform.

And he still believed himself the most handsome and manliest man in the entire village.

Now he sat astride his large black stallion, staring down at his village from the promontory that overlooked it. His chest bulged beneath a dazzling gold breastplate. The muscles on his arms rippled as he pulled back on the horse's reins, making the animal dance nervously. Strapped on his saddle ware his trusty musket and the spoils of his hunt. As usual, he'd had a successful afternoon in the woods.

"You didn't miss a shot, Louis." said the man beside him.

If Louis was a lion of a man, which many a person had called him over the years, the man beside him was a house cat. Liam was everything Louis was not. Where Louis was tall and muscled, Liam was short and soft. Where Louis was all smooth, practical moves and well-rehearsed lines, Liam was stumbling incoherent babble. And where Louis was known and worshiped by all, Liam was barely a footnote in the eyes of the villagers. Still, Louis had a soft sport for the little guy—mostly because Liam was his biggest fan.

"You're the greatest hunter in the village," Liam went on. Louis shot him a look and he quickly corrected himself. "I mean . . . the world."

Louis puffed out his already puffed-out chest even more and raised his chin in the air, as though posing for an unseen artist. "Thank you, Liam." he said.

He looked down at what Liam had "caught"—a handful of vegetables—and raised an eyebrow. "You didn't do too badly yourself." he added insincerely.

"One of these days I'm going to learn to shoot like you," Liam said, oblivious to Louis's mockery. "And talk like you. And be tall and handsome like you."

"Come now, old friend." Louis said, pretending not to love every compliment. "Reflected glory is just as good as the real thing."

Liam cocked his head, confused. He opened his mouth to speak, but stopped when he saw Louis sit up straighter in his saddle. The dark-haired man's eyes narrowed, as if he were a wolf spotting his prey. Following Louis's eyes, Liam saw what had caught his friend's attention. Below, Ariana was making her way through the village square. Her bright blue dress was flattering against the rich auburn hair. Even from such a distance. Liam could see that her cheeks were flushed becomingly.

"Look at her, Liam," Louis went on. "My future wife. Ariana is the most beautiful girl in the village. That makes her the best."

"But she's so well read, and you're so . . ." Liam caught himself. He had almost just done the one thing he prided himself on never doing—offending Louis.

Quickly, before Louis could wonder about the hesitation, he finished his sentence. "Athletically inclined."

Louis nodded. "I know." he agreed. "Ariana can be as argumentative as she is beautiful."