Winter's Rose ~A Beauty and the Beast Retelling~

The Curse

Rosalind froze with back facing the voice. It had been so long since she had heard that sound--that voice. The warm tone that used to radiate warmth through her body. How was it possible? It had been so long, so long since she had been near him; heard his voice. She was going crazy; he was dead. He had died in her arms. This had to be a cruel trick. Rainy squirmed in her mother's arms; this place wasn't safe for her daughter, Rosalind had to get her out of here. If there was still a curse here--she had to get Rainy away from here. She began her descent down the hill. The grass and brush scratching against her skirt. It was the strangest thing, Rainy had ceased her cries and was fixated on something behind Rosalind's shoulder.

"Rosalind!" The voice called again, the first time she had heard it she was sure that she had imagined it. Rosalind's heart pounded in her chest--this was insane. She had to be losing her mind. She just kept repeating in her mind that he was dead, and that she had felt him die. Rainy's small hand rested over her mother's heart. Rosalind could hear the footsteps catching up to her. A hand touched her shoulder and she cried out. Not out of pain or surprise, but the feeling of his touch had felt as though it had opened a Pandora's box of emotions that she had struggled to keep shut. Rosalind released Rainy from her arms and ushered her to run back to the trail. The hand spun her around and held onto her shoulders. She could feel his eyes on her. She had begun crying. He was here how was that possible?

"Rose," The voice said again, softer this time. Sobs racked her body. She put her hand to his chest trying to push away from him.

"You're dead! You're supposed to be dead!" She cried, pounding her fists against his chest. "You're a trick! You have to be a trick!"

He held her close to his chest. She rested her head on his chest. Warm, alive, how could this be? She felt his hands on her back. She could hear his heart beating steadily under her ear. Rainy hadn't left, she now clung to Rosalind's skirts. Rosalind pulled herself away from the familiar scent of pine and linen.

"You died in my arms-- I felt the life drain from you. How? How is this possible?" She stuttered. She reached and held Rainy's hand tightly. Her daughter remained quiet. He stayed silent. "Say something! I mourned you!"

"I know," He said softly.

"William," The name fell from her lips. "How--"

It was like that last night when she had burst into her old room. He had touched her face, felt her to make sure that she was there. He hadn't believed that she was real. For the first time in a long time she had to know he was real. She had to touch him, had to feel his skin against her fingertips.

She moved to touch him, because she couldn't believe that he was here. Her fingertips touched his chest lightly, and traced up as they had the first night on the balcony. His jaw was now covered in a beard-- making his face feel foreign. She touched his temple and let her hand slip down his face. He was real; he was here. She felt William gently rest his hands on her hips. His skin was unmarred by scars-- how was it possible?

"You don't look like you," She whispered.

"You saw me differently." He told her simply.

Rosalind grew frustrated with her sight. If only she could just see; she would know whether this man was indeed William or some kind of mirage that her mind was deceiving her with.

"How?" She wondered aloud.

"I wish I could tell you," He said softly, he stared at her mesmerized.

He grasped her hand in his--it felt familiar, warm and calloused yet soft. This had to be Will, how could it not be? Rainy had begun to tug at her mother's skirts. That seemed to be the first time Will had noticed her.