Inspired/requested, & encouraged by one of the many wonderful Dearies over at the Rumbelle fanforum :)

A Legitimate Summon

When she wants him near she almost always imagines his touch to be gentle. She doesn't let herself remember where his fingers bit into her skin with his tight grip when he threw her away. His voice is always soft and sometimes playful. When he laughs, her own laughter joins his. She does not hear the anger in his voice. She won't let herself see him as he wanted her to see him. Belle will never believe he is any kind of monster. There was a vast difference between him and those that she'd encountered since he'd cast her out. She knew that now more than ever as the tiny bits of gravel shifted beneath her palms.

Belle's fingers stretched and moved as they searched for anything big enough to do damage. Dirt was all she found, and she could not wield that as a weapon. At least not an effective one. The sun winked at her from between the trees as she crawled back further. Her nails scraped along the ground and she groaned when her skirts caught on a throw away branch. She wished that it was close enough to grab on to. A stick could be a weapon. Sticks could effectively splinter whole cabinet doors. Not to mention, she could easily shatter a kneecap. The sun still lit her path. She almost felt as if it was following her. Showering her in it's warmth. The feeling reminded her of him. And she wished that he was here now. She would never have needed a weapon with him.

A shadow fell over her and her body stopped moving before her mind could question it. Belle tried to concentrate on controlling her breathing. It was time to think. This was just like any other situation and she could reason her way out of it. The shadow crawled closer to her until it reached her face and when she looked up her opponent stood above her. Belle glared at him as his barbaric visage reflected a crooked smile back at her. The man was repulsive from head to foot. His hair stood stiff with what she could only assume most be dirt. His clothes were raggy. And probably hadn't been washed in far too long. It made sense because no sensible woman would have this…this, thing. Perhaps it could be soot that he seemed to be bathed in. She'd happened upon the mines not too long ago. Her hard eyes scanned his frame. She felt herself relax a bit when she didn't see an axe on him. Her nose twitched. He smelled like burnt wood that had been rained on for weeks and some sort of rot that she couldn't place. It made her stomach turn. Her eyes scanned him again. No weapons of any kind.

He stopped moving when she did, staring down at her. Belle bit at her lip. She could do this. After all, it wasn't the first time in the last few weeks that she'd found herself up against a brute. She could do this. Belle put on her best terrified face. She could look meek and innocent when she wanted to. It was a skill that had served her well. Most people didn't bother you when you appear unthreatening. She'd read that applied to wild animals somewhere. Probably from his library. She could pull off unthreatening. It was only when people deduced who she was that she had a problem. Word traveled fast in this land. Especially since her tale was intertwined with the one thing that they all feared.

He stepped up closer to her and she waited. She shrunk away a little bit more and whimpered for effect. He laughed and she fought to keep her face looking frightened. In a moment he wasn't going to know what hit him. He took another step towards her. His foot planted itself between her knees and she wrinkled her face up more and allowed her lip to quiver appropriately. He pulled at one of the gloves he was wearing, flicking off one of the snaps. She didn't let herself smile. He was so nonchalant. He thought that he'd won.

She shied away from him as he took one more step closer and waited for him to lean down. He was tall and she would have to extend her leg too far right now. It would be too easy for him to grab her foot. In these situations, she'd learned, sometimes one chance is all you have to keep things from going wrong.

He knelt down between her legs and she flinched. Belle felt one tear glide down her cheek and she was proud of the performance she was turning in. He reached a hand out towards her cheek and she finally let the mask slip. She smirked and allowed herself only a moment to enjoy his dumbstruck expression. Belle swung the weight of her body across her torso. Her leg hit his side. She bent her other leg at the knee and he was hit from both sides. What little balance he ever had was lost and he toppled over. She heard his grunt as he hit the ground. Belle wasted no time as she rolled to her stomach. When she pushed herself to her feet she had only a moment to enjoy her victory.

She had forgotten about that darn branch that had tangled in her skirts. She considered herself resourceful and at least mildly smarter than most. She was certainly smarter than the oaf that she had just kicked over. But even with all the cunning that she'd had Belle had not factored in nature being an obstacle in this. The branch was her one chance for things to go wrong in this. As she fell again, face first into the dirt road, she knew that things had indeed gone wrong. She groaned as she turned herself over, spitting gravel from her lips. Something trickled down the side of her face and she suspected that it might be blood.

The sunlight was blinding, as it once again hit her face. He moved into her view and she saw just a glimpse of his hand before he struck her. Her head slammed back into the gravel. She heard the sound of bone hitting bone within in her ears. Then a moment later she felt the pain that he'd wanted to inflict. Blood filled her mouth and she spit what she could out. He had hit her hard. Some satisfaction came with knowing that she'd kicked him over good enough to arouse such anger. The sunlight flickered again and she could barely make out the shape of what looked like a staff. Belle squinted, and she wasn't entirely sure that her eye wasn't swelling as she tried to decipher what was in front of her.

"Pretty lil prin-cess." "Tripped over a stick?" "Heard it told…were you really a princess?"

His words told her what had been blocking the view. Her hands reached out blindly, trying to grasp one of the ends. He grunted and swung one end. Answers to questions seemed to mean nothing to him. The wood hit her hard in the ribs and she grunted. She tried to glare but found that she couldn't hold her eyes steady long enough between her shudders. Belle wasn't sure, how much damage he'd done. But he might have just broken, or at least bruised one of her ribs. She coughs and there's more blood. Rough hands clumsily grasp at her wrists.

"Take your hands off me," she yells in the general area his face might be. Her voice reflects her upbringing. She spits out more blood, and hopes it reached him. Her answer to the order is another smack to her jaw.

Belle is at least grateful that it was his hand and not the stick. That would have almost surely knocked her out. She couldn't fight if she was unconscious. She wondered if perhaps he still had the stick. But no, he must have dropped it. If she could somehow get one of her hands free, maybe she could find it. But his grip on her wrists was iron strong. She could recall only one thing that she'd ever known to be more solid. It hurt her to think of it. Another tear fell from her eye. This one was not fake. It wasn't supposed to be this way.

"Stop fightin' lil beauty...we all know what ye are…"

His words angered her further and she fought against him more fervently. Her hips twisting, and her legs kicking any direction they could. Belle cried out when he pushed her wrists into the ground above her head. The rocks scraped at her skin and she knew that she'd be missing small bits of skin from those areas. He leaned over her and his legs pinned her waist to the ground. The sun was completely blocked out now by his imposing frame. Belle twisted again, trying to see around him. The effort did her no good. She craned her neck, ignoring the spike of pain that shot up her throat. She had no doubt pulled a muscle. Perhaps she had pulled more than one.

She ignored the pain that her movements caused while she took in her situation. Her eyes danced around wildly. She couldn't see much. Splotches of color and white light cluttered her view. Nothing seemed anywhere close that could help her. She felt his grubby hands pulling at her cloak and she ignored the panic she felt building. Her mind took a mental inventory of her body. She was hurt, she knew. But it wasn't so bad that she couldn't get away. She could run on the pain that the hurried movement would surely cause. She was much smaller than him, and he was bulky. If only she could get him off of her and get to her feet. His weight was overwhelming, pushing her down as he was. She just had to get to her feet.

Belle knew that she had to throw him. Something had to startle him for a moment. That's all that she needed. His smelly hands were tugging at her cloak. He was unsuccessfully trying to unclasp the link. His stupidity gave her a moment to think. The fashioned metal scraped along her chest, scratching her skin. He tugged at it and she heard a rip. Belle swallowed the lump in her throat. Her heart had started to speed up without her consent. This was getting to be bad and she knew that she was running out of time. She lit on an idea and her eyes widened.

"Ye know what's the sad thing lil beauty…no one round for miles…" "Even there was, no one would help ya." "Not you."

Belle heard giddiness in his words. Was he trying to justify what he was about to do to her? She squirmed uselessly beneath him. Her mind was still tossing her idea around in her head. It seemed to be the only option she could devise. To hear it again. She knew it would cause her pain. But she wouldn't except this. Not if there was anything she could do about it. The pain a mention would cause would not overpower the pain she was about to feel if she didn't fix her predicament. The final tare of her cloak sounded in her ears. The rip made her stomach jolt. The humid air reached her chest just as she opened her mouth. She glanced once at his grotesque version of a grin before she opened her mouth. His face made up her mind. She screamed one name loud and long. Her actions gave her the desired effect. She had definitely startled him. There was obvious fear in his eyes where before there had been maliciousness. If there was anyone they would believe could legitimately use his name as a summon, it was her.