Thanks to everyone reading! :D

Hours after she'd awakened from the best night's sleep she'd had in months, she was still smiling from the encounter. Curled up in the chair by her fireplace, her mind was thousands of miles away from the book she was reading, though she flipped through the pages every minute or so. It was instead focusing on well-used parchment and sturdy calligraphy, and on calculating just how much longer until it would be sunset.

"Belle?"

Gaston's voice was an unusual thing to hear in her room, and she jumped, slamming her book shut.

"Gaston."

He stepped through the doorway, having to hunch to fit, and shuffled from foot to foot once he was inside. He was staring at her, so she made no move to straighten out. She wouldn't pretend to be someone that she wasn't in her own personal space.

"Is there something I can do for you?" she asked when he just continued to stare.

"You look—you look very pretty today."

She stared. Had he just come to compliment her? Was it some sort of ploy to sweet talk her into doing something? He looked surprised, though—something she chose to ignore. Maybe her full night's sleep was noticeable. Or maybe she was just happy. She smiled, averting her eyes to be polite.

"Thank you, Gaston. That's very kind."

He nodded, still staring at her like he had never seen her before. She could feel a blush rising in her cheeks. The dress she was wearing was an old coral number that she wore for comfort more than style, and she'd done nothing to her hair other than braid it. She knew that she had R to thank for whatever it was that Gaston was seeing.

"Was that all?" she asked.

"Oh." He cleared his throat and straightened up. "Uh, I came to invite you to have dinner with me after the war council session."

Belle stared. Gaston hadn't specifically invited her to dine with him in months—not since the beginning of their engagement, when he was still trying to court her to make it seem less arranged. Something important must have been happening.

"Of course," she said, forcing a smile. "I'll see you after the session."

He bent his neck in a stiff nod, and left after letting his gaze linger in one last stare. Once he was gone, Belle scrambled out of her chair, looking for a new parchment and some ink. She knew it was silly of her to think that R would care so much if she was late, but he had seemed excited at the prospect of talking to her again, and she couldn't bear the thought of him thinking she'd stood him up.

Dinner with Gaston had been as awkward as she expected, and she had not managed to wheedle any information out of him, despite the fact that she had tried to capitalize on whatever had gotten into her by dressing for the occasion. This plan had backfired, since all he'd been able to do was stare, and then boast about his hunting skills in a failed attempt to impress her.

Since it was later than anticipated, she'd asked her maid to help her prepare for bed and claimed exhaustion so that she would have a night of uninterrupted conversation. She found herself primping in front of the mirror a bit, fluffing her hair and puckering her lips, though R could not see her. She knew the infatuation with a person she couldn't see should have worried her, but she brushed it off.

As she'd hoped, there was a letter waiting, scribbled underneath the one she'd sent.

Dear R,

I may be late for our rendezvous tonight by perhaps an hour or two. I'll send word when I'm back in bed.

Yours,

B

B,

I will be here.

—R

She wished that there was some way she could know how long ago he sent it, because the idea that he would wait for her was filling her cheeks with warmth. She dipped her quill in the inkpot, then paused to take a breath. Tonight, she would sound refined. She wouldn't ramble on at him like an excited school girl. She would talk like the lady she was, and say intelligent things, and not use so many exclamation marks.

Dear R,

I hope you weren't waiting terribly long. It seems that my fiancé has acquired new interest in me. Something about my appearance has pleased him today.

Yours,

B

Good. Good. That was a good letter to send, and she allowed herself to breathe once she had pressed the pillow over it. R wouldn't get tired of her, like every other person had, because she was too curious and excitable.

Dear B,

Your appearance doesn't please him every day?

—R

How was she supposed to answer that without sounding conceited or self-deprecating? Was there a way? She chewed her lip, looking to the golden dream catcher to give her ideas.

Dear R,

I think that sleeping the night through added a new glow to my cheeks. He was probably just surprised not to see circles under my eyes. My maid almost fainted when she found me in bed just as she'd left me. Usually, it's in disarray and I'm very tangled in the sheets.

Your dream catcher is the most powerful magic I've ever known. I'll never be able to thank you enough.

Yours,

B

It wasn't exactly the composed letter she'd been planning, but it wasn't too bad. At least she hadn't let slip the fact that she was prone to sleeping naked. That would have been improper.

Dear B,

Does he know of your nightmares?

—R

Dear R,

The whole kingdom knows of my nightmares, though I've told them that they're about the ogres. I should probably pretend to keep having them, so that no one asks about the dream catcher. My father would die if he knew I was writing to someone I couldn't see.

Yours,

B

Dear B,

Are they not about the ogres?

—R

Belle stared at the letter in her hands. She'd been so careful to tell everyone that, even in her sleep, she feared for her kingdom's safety. Even her father, who had been her most trusted confidante since childhood, had no idea that it wasn't true. How could she have been so careless?

Dear R,

My fiancé invited me for dinner tonight. He was less conversational than usual, but he did tell me a story about the time he hunted a bear. The head is mounted over my father's fireplace.

Yours,

B

Dear B,

How many times have you heard this story?

And don't think I'm fooled by your rapid subject change, dearie.

—R

Belle bit her lip to keep it from spreading into a smile. She knew she was being obvious about the nightmares, but she didn't think she'd been obvious about Gaston. That he knew anyway, that he understood—she felt warmth rising in her cheeks.

Dear R,

I lost count after the sixth. He hasn't told it in awhile, though. He was really trying to impress me tonight. I'm hoping that I can seduce my way back into the war room now.

Yours,

B

B,

So that you can have a better selection of new potential suitors?

—R

Dear R,

Of course not. I said I would marry my fiancé and I will. I've already told you, I want to learn about being a queen, and that means learning everything. Besides, my father's been looking so tired. He needs me.

Yours,

B

Dear B,

You're an odd girl.

—R

She stared at the letter, stung. Logically, she knew that a man she'd never met and only been writing to for two nights should not have made her feel anything other than curiosity, but her heart wasn't listening. She couldn't have been more hurt if he'd told her he hated her.

Dear R,

So I've been told.

Yours,

B

She felt her eyes welling up, and didn't take the pillow off the bed for much longer than she knew it would take R to respond. When she lifted it, she almost expected to see nothing, but there was her scroll, all rolled up.

Dear B,

It was a compliment.

—R

She read the words over and over, feeling the muscles in her chest loosen more and more each time. It was okay. R still understood her.

Dear R,

You never answered my questions from last night. How does the dream catcher work?

Yours,

B

Dear B,

The magic in the threads absorbs any dreams you may have while you sleep. The lion watches over you while you cannot defend yourself, so that you may rest easily.

—R

Dear R,

Really? Would it save the village from ogres, or is it too small? Is the thread really made of gold? And is it safe to touch? I was going to inspect it, but I didn't want to disturb the magic.

Yours,

B

Dear B,

How did you hang it if you didn't touch it?

The lion won't really protect you. But that's its legend, anyway.

—R

Dear R,

Oh, I see. Well, it's a nice thought. The lion does look very brave. Did you carve him yourself?

Yours,

B

Dear B,

Yes.

—R

Dear R,

It's beautiful. I tried to carve wood once. I think it was very successful.

Yours,

B

Dear B,

What did you make?

—R

Dear R,

A pointed stick.

Yours,

B

Dear B,

An impressive feat, to be sure.

What are your nightmares about?

—R

Dear R,

My wedding.

Yours,

B

It took a long time for his next letter to arrive, and Belle chewed her lip. For all she knew, she'd just ruined her own image with the kingdom. She could have been talking to anyone, and they could have figured out who she was by now, and be preparing to tell Gaston that the ogre dreams were a lie.

Then, the letter came, and it was wrapped around something. Careful, in case it was fragile, she unrolled the scroll. Pooled in the center was a golden chain on which pearl the size of her thumbnail, set in golden backing. Belle stopped breathing for a second, only remembering that she needed to do so when the letter caught her eye.

Dear B,

Pearls are said to wrap the wearer in calmness and beauty, as well as bring wisdom. It seems fitting for a princess of your caliber.

Now, I must retire. Sleep well, my lady. If the dream catcher fails, dust it.

—R