Even before the first light of day rose, Rohan left his wife's room to carry on with his plan. Belle had not slept a wink that night, as they had talked away through the hours. He had gone to fetch more charcoal and parchment papers to draw her and their sleeping son from different angles.
She had watched him draw and had also told him different stories, one of which had so captured his interest that he forgot about drawing and instead laid his head in her lap while she stroked his hair, massaged his scalp, and continued speaking in a soft, soothing voice.
It was a story about a cursed prince who had loved a woman who didn't belong in his time, and their tale had been filled with so many ups and downs that Rohan couldn't help but grow more invested in it. She said it was something that had happened many years ago in another land, and the stories had been carried on by people down the generations. It had been told by so many that the words had changed with each telling.
