Daniel was a wreck. Ted had been called away to Paris on personal business and no one else in the castle had spoken a single word to him for the last long, agonizing week. Everything he did, thought, or was assumed to think placed him as if he was a thin straw on the edge of a very sharp, double edged knife. It felt like it was just waiting to slice him in two as if he was an unfortunate rabbit hanging in between a huge, blue-eyed bear and a ravenous pack of castle cleaning wolves.
Meals were also silent and often spent alone; every morning he would wake up and find that his breakfast tray had been perfectly placed outside his room with the exact same menu on a large, worn metal tray: warm oatmeal placed in a small bowl at the center, grapes on the left, and a small biscuit with a small cup of tea on the side. The only way the bowl fit in the center was because it was the scope of a large blue teacup.
Lunch and dinner were also eaten in silence. It was made all the worse that Rose was in such a close proximity to him yet, with her father presiding over the table, he didn't dare try to even catch her eye. He would spend the whole meal stealing glances of her melancholy face peripherally.
Daniel found himself skulking in the back corridors, forgotten corners, and even the spare empty rooms of the castle; a lot of the time the castle's bothersome servants including the overgrown, fat clock and the waxy-eared, bean pole would find him exploring down in the dungeon, up in the towers, in the far empty corners of the ballroom, or even in the spare broom cupboards placed all over the castle floors just to escape the oppressive silence.
Every day, Daniel's mind slowly oozed out of reason just like melting marshmallows over a fire of boredom. He had never wanted freedom more in his convoluted, upside down life; and yet Daniel had never felt more inclined to stay in any place for so long. Many times, he would find himself stuck in his huge, featuring mansion his mother would consistently try to trap him inside like a juvenile street punk inside the world's most expensive prison; he would find any methods to escape, just so he could prove to his parents he was never going to be his top-shot, sodding brother.
Daniel snipingly stabbed his fork down onto an unfortunate piece of lettuce, his mind returning to the dark chestnut long table. His silver plate was aligned with salad flushed with cut grapes, while the center held a hearty sized steak. Still slowly poking and playing with his food, Daniel's thoughts kept hopping, swooping, and prodding all over his already sore mind which continued to rage war with his pounding heart. He never had had any true friends or any form of loyalty in his life, and yet here in the middle of a damp, dingy castle located in the most nonstandard setting and place he had found Rose. He felt impulsive around her; his breathe would become shallow, unsteady; he would feel his chest fill up with a force to do good, to protect, to spend more and more time with her, and he never wanted this new feeling to end.
But deep inside, there was still a sore, throbbing thorn he had felt for years. He tried to bury the agitating barb as he slyly glanced towards Rose; his heart felt like it was being pulled between selfish desires to displease his parents and wanting to care and feel the pains and joys of another person.
Daniel's chest still swirled with thundering emotions as he broodingly left the dining room long after his food had chilled and everyone else had left. His feet, having a mind of their own, just wandered down the corridors. His footsteps echoed unaccompanied against the walls, paintings, vases, tables, and all the rest of the medieval relics aligning the walls.
Daniel soon found himself at one of the little alcoves behind one of the many tapestries hanging in the hallway near the kitchens. He had started to hide there to eavesdrop on the servants during their annoying gossiping sessions which usually ended, began, or essentially was all about him and his ill behavior. Daniel knew this was the only place where he could hear human voices besides his own voice arguing inside his head. The servants would ramble and natter about many different things besides Daniel. By listening to their ramblings, he had found out more about each of the servant's lives than he ever wanted or needed to know, but at least it wasn't continual silence ringing in his ears.
Daniel once again heard all the familiar voices coming from the lit kitchen behind the brown, red trimmed doors; Lumier's voice rang loud and clear along with the always bickering Cogsworth sounding like a primped up yet breaking down clock. And of course, Chip's young, but positively more mature sounding voice like growing wind breezing through the pines. Then he could hear the loud gasping jabber of the fat dresser known as Gisabelle with the squeaky 20's woman's voice of the maid Madeline.
Yes, Daniel would simply lie down on the hard floor, feeling the stone's cold touch against his hot back, trying to calm his already raking nerves alone in the dark. His tired mind would only catch one or two words here and there amongst all the prattling voices. He slightly moved onto his side, trying to soften the rough floor. As he laid his head against his arm, his eyes quickly blinked as he heard Rose's name mentioned. He sat up straighter and leaned closer to the fabric to hear what they were saying more clearly. He quickly slowed his breathe so the tapestry wouldn't move and carefully pressed his ears against the fabric hoping no one would notice his shallow, quiet breathing.
"Well obviously she's crushed," Madeline was saying, "She had become very close to the boy."
"Too close!" Chip demanded, "Too maudit close!"
"It's true then?" Gisabelle leaned forward intently, "she was actually in the culprit's room?"
"Now let's not jump to any premature conclusion," Mrs. Potts tried to calm everyone down while putting the warm teapot back onto the stove to reheat; her motherly eyes scanned around everyone trying to find anyway to soften the brewing conversation. But soon her eyes went back to the shining silver teapot speedily coming to a steaming squeal before her son expounded his own thoughts, making the conversation boil along with the steaming tea.
"Mère," Chip interjected, "there is nothing premature about this!"
"I do believe the boy has a point," Cogsworth said, "I overheard the master informing Belle about the situation, and I must say that it is distressing." Cogsworth took a sip of his tea and looked around to a group's set of expectant faces, clearly showing none of them had also heard the master's news; all of the servants were too busy urging for Cogsworth to continue what he heard to notice the firelight flicking in Daniel's eyes as he dared peek out a bit farther, so he could hear better.
"Well?" Chip persisted.
"'Well?'" Cogsworth questioned.
Chip's hand slightly raised as if threatening to smack Cogsworth's teacup straight up into his perfect curled mustache before tediously rolling his eyes as Cogsworth annoyingly took another quick slurping sip, "Well what did he say, you great, dusty ticker!" Lumier sprang out unable to contain himself any longer.
"I do not believe I should divulge the secret conversations between the master and his wife." Cogsworth sniffed.
Chip burst out, "Oh it's too late for that! Now tell us!"
"Oh very well," Cogsworth sighed though it was obvious he was simply waiting for the push to divulge his juicy gossip, "I was cleaning a most troublesome plain of dust on top of the twelve century black top table in the upper West Wing, when I heard the master speak that accursed boy's name. Since his voice was slightly heated, I couldn't help overhearing-"
"Connerie," Lumier input causing Cogsworth to send him an extremely undignified look.
"Anyways," He continued, "As I was saying before being so rudely interrupted."
"Get on with it!" Gisabelle said.
"Very well, the master started by informing Belle of how he found Rose's gold hair clip on Daniel's bedside table. He said that the room was a mess. Apparently, Daniel's breakfast tray was spilt on the ground and worse yet," he paused, "the bed was… shall we say…. Undone."
"You don't think she possibly would have…" Madeline let her statement hang in the thickening air.
"No, absolutely not!" Chip stood up his face slightly growing red, Mrs. Potts blinked as her son began to pace the floor. "More likely he tried to-to- well you know, and she rejected him."
Gisabelle took the moment to interject, "than why would she still be with the coquina?"
All of them paused as a faint moan pricked their ears; Daniel whooshed back into the alcove praying no one had seen him. For what seemed like minutes there was silence, Daniel's hand started to pulse from being crushed against the wall and his back; then as the voices slowly spoke again he bit down on his tongue swallowing down the pain, he resumed his ear against the rugged tapestry to hear Chip's shouting voice.
"Oh let's be serious," Chip started ranting, "Rose isn't exactly the least naive person we know, and that scum is definitely persuasive enough to convince her he was being far more innocent than his demented little brain could muster. She would naturally have just taken him for his word. I'd be willing to bet he's just biding his time to try again!"
There was a very pregnant pause after Chip finished his loud speech; Daniel delicately pulled back the very edge of the tapestry to see if something bad had taken place, his heart was starting to brim with guilt for his friendship with Rose. He hadn't meant for any of this to happen, for Rose to end up entirely alone in this place mocked and untrusted by her other friends here. He started to move away but instantly froze as Madeline spoke up, "Surely Rose wouldn't be so sot as to believe anything he would say?"
Lumier took this moment to speak, "I am afraid to say that Chip is right in his assessment of our young mistress. She is unprepared for the ways of the world."
Mrs. Potts couldn't stand it any longer, "Rose is not so foolish as to believe any of his trickery."
"Mamam," Chip interjected, "Rose has already been drawn into his web! She has completely lost all rationality towards that bâtard! Just look at how close he got to completely destroying her!"
"Once again, the boy has a point," Gisabelle spoke up, "I myself have had a small amount of dealings with such cads, and I must say Rose has foolishly allowed herself to be deceived by his trickery."
Everyone looked at Gisabelle and silently nodded. More would have been said but right at the moment the grandfather clock in the corner let out three chimes.
"I do believe we have allowed ourselves to speak for too long," Cogsworth sniffed, "It is time for the master's tea."
"Of course," Mrs. Potts said immediately busied herself with the preparations.
"We all should be getting about our business," Lumier said and they all slowly stood to leave. Daniel sat in silence as he heard each of them exit the kitchen. He peaked out around the edge of the tapestry to make sure the coast was clear. His chest only froze as the tapestry across from him started to move.
He watched silently as a thin figure slipped effortlessly from a high-placed niche. he heard quiet sobs as the figure's padded feet touched the glossed floor. He felt his heart tear like slightly shredded paper as Rose's face turned into the shedding light of the setting sun. Her face was lit like a shimmering angel as the last stretches of golden rays gently touched her cream face turning her burnt amber eyes to a brilliant dark gold.
Daniel's heart started to flutter through thin air, but the exuberant feeling crashed into countless splinters as he stared at her tear-stained face created by all the soundless tears she had made from behind the other tapestry. Daniel's eyes grew wide. His throat tightened at the realization that he hadn't been the only one listening in on the servants.
Daniel felt his heart run like a thundering waterfall; his legs began to subconsciously pull out from the shadows in order to comfort Rose. He wanted more than anything to wipe away her tears and soften the pain from the harsh words spoken in the other room.
His muscles strained to take the first giant step. His heart hammered as he stepped closer with his hands shaking at his sides. But before he could even attempt to stop himself, Rose let a short sob escape her cherry colored lips, before running down the darkening antechamber tears still streaming down her creamy flushed cheeks.
Daniel ran out from behind the tapestry and watched her run off down the corridor, an overwhelming need to erase her pain burning through his veins. He barely managed to restrain himself as he remembered the way Aaron had choked him; he could see the man's eyes burning with rage like icy, deadly spheres. He quietly rubbed his neck, still feeling the slight bruising sting at his simplest touch.
What could he do? He wanted to help Rose, help her understand that she wasn't the only one completely alone in this god-forbidden prison. He hadn't meant for anything to turn around and bite him in the ass, but, as always, his plans and wants continued to be like a stalking wolf wounding its prey before closing in on the final lunge. His mind made the most silent snapping noise, he couldn't, no… he wouldn't believe that after these long, painful sodding months of doing nothing besides gaining a painful education of how much his parents wanted to finally be rid of him by placing him in the middle of a stony nut house. Then actually finding a friend in his banishment of solitude and abandonment, to only have her yanked away from him from all sides which, once again left him completely stranded and alone like a disease ridden isle.
He turned in frustration and punched the wooden door. His knuckles made slight cracking noises as they slammed into the fragile wood. It was a good thing no one else was close enough to hear him scream and say a few censored words before pulling back his wringing hand.
"Damnit!" He exclaimed loudly and waved his hand around in the air. Blood drops made silent splashes onto the sleek floor. Daniel cursed again; reaching for the damp cloth that Mrs. Potts had used to lift up the steaming teapots on the crumb topped counter. He turned towards the window to see the two faintest lights creeping along the darkening road. The lights seemed to inch their way towards the castle as if trying to escape the swallowing grasp of the woods behind them. Daniel threw the rag into the dirty basket by the stove and wrapped his aching hand in his shirt; slowly following the melancholy silence that marked the path Rose had taken down the dark corridor.
He walked sulkily down the hallways, walking like he was back inside the deep, dark echoing arched caves across the vomit colored hills and mountains of Ireland with his snobbish school group from the boy's academy of perfectly-trained, moronic, robot idiots. He didn't even care to hear the echoing creak of the castle's main door open three floors beneath him; he could only sigh at the thought of Ted's expressionless eyes behind his round silver spectacles just staring into nothing but blank abyss.
In a few minutes, Daniel found himself back at his bedroom; he entered through his large doors, mumbling about how big a scolding he would receive from his mute, bug eyed nanny for his bleeding knuckles. Sulkingly, he made his way to the opposite side of his perfectly trimmed, folded bed. He chuckled to himself when he saw the white porcelain bowl, full of clear water the maid's still brought in everyday even though his side-table was overcrowded with all his so-called friend's letters that where now soggy, paper boats; he continued to smile knowing full well that the bowl had been indeed refilled with clear cool water where he was supposed to wash his face and hands but as usual he would maintain his assiduous impulse to constantly ignore the general rules and possibly make even more soggy, paper messes.
Daniel breathed in the dank air for a moment before his smile disappeared as his temper started brewing again. The maids had once again blatantly ignored his wishes for open windows. In fact, they would close them every time he left them open. Tenderly cradling his hand before placing it against his abdomen, he reached his free hand to the high placed two nut silver locks which were placed along the edged, grain seal of the windows like to bobbed pins on thick fabric. His forefinger delicately grabbed the top of the small, sliding lever; but Daniel's mind wandered to other thoughts as his thumb squeezed up the bottom of the second lever.

"What am I going to do? I am so bloody sick and tired of everyone ruining my life!" The small lever clicked, sending the bar sliding down the golden tube, "Every sodding person my whole bloody life has expected me to do things their way. My parent's, my supposed friends, hell, even my brother wouldn't leave me alone! Now mister 'I'm an over-protective, sodding psychopath' is going to rip me apart if I go anywhere near…"
The wooden panels along the crevassed edge rubbed against the glass, Daniel's thoughts only flamed higher; his fingers touched the sun-warmed glass, the slightest pressure began to travel from his hand making the window faintly creak, "what do I do? How did this all happen?"
Cool air softly blew onto his face and cheeks as he pushed the window out into the warm air, tiny hands seemed to grasp the hanging deep blue curtains. The hands stretched and flowed pouring light, golden ink onto every surface of the room. Daniel turned to see a recently placed vase of white roses on the far right desk which rested along the south wall. The light seemed to cause the petals to catch fire turning them from snowy white to a glimmering yellow, and he couldn't miss the irony or dodge the sharp, throbbing pain he felt in his heart at the sight.
Daniel couldn't stand it; he had never felt so frustrated in his whole life. He could only feel the rage burning in his hand as he walked, grabbed, and threw the vase across his room and into the bathroom where it crashed onto the floor white polished floor; broken glass, water, and crumpled flowers flew everywhere.
He sat on his bed a minute and looked out at the blue sky, his ears pricked as a small bird landed on his balcony; a beautiful song thrush. It sat for a moment, preening its feathers before flying off towards deep grey mountains to the north.
A slight knock came from the door, Daniel turned to see his spectacle-eyed nurse carrying a small towel and some bandage wrapping. He scoffed as Ted quietly shut the door behind him, snidely sniffing before kneeling in front of pounding knuckle and set in right to work.
"So…." Daniel coughed through his teeth, "did the warden send u? Or the prison guards?"
"sir, I walked by just a moment ago and saw your injury; I simply went away to get your bandage needs along with the magazines you requested, nothing more."
"Oh right, the magazines. Anything about me in there?"

"Of course, Sir. Isn't there always?" Ted said without blinking as he wiped the warm rag across Daniel's knuckles.
"Ow! Bloody Hell!" Daniel exclaimed and tore his hand from Ted's grip.
"My apologies, Sir," Ted said and took back the protesting appendage.
Daniel rolled his eyes and stared out his window, when a thought struck him. "What day is it?" he asked Ted.
"Today is the twenty-third of September, Sir. May I inquire as to why you wish to know?"
Daniel looked at Ted, "The twenty-third of September? That means I've been here over six bloody months!"
"Yes, Sir, that is accurate." Ted said.
"You'd think my no-good parents would have brushed everything under the rug by now."
"I do believe the (cough) investigation has been affectively canceled."
"Then why am I still in this shithole?" Daniel exclaimed loud enough to scare the bird off his balcony.
"I did inquire on your behalf to your brother while I was in Paris, and he said your parents believe you have yet to learn your lesson, Sir."
"Well they should just-" Daniel cut himself off, "Wait, what is Eric doing in Paris? Shouldn't he be running something in London for my father?"
"He is here on business, Sir. Fashion week begins in two days, and your family has influence over a number of the designers, lest you forget." Ted said as he finished wiping up the last bit of blood off Daniel's hand and stood to leave.
Daniel flopped back onto the bed, "oh perfect! Eric gets to go and party with a bunch of slutty models, and I'm stuck here in Hell! I bet Paris is crawling with hot-stripper babes!"
"I'm sure you're right, sir, I apologize that you are unable to enjoy it." Ted finished and walked out of the room, quietly closing the door behind him.
"Yea, no joke." Daniel whined.
Daniel stretched his pulsing fingers. He cursed softly under his breath as he grabbed the closest magazine sitting near the rim of his bed. Quickly smiling at the red strapped, bikini bathing super models on the front of the month's issue of BAZAAR, before tossing it behind him to switch to the black, upcoming fashion week magazine. He sighed looking through the reds, greys, whites, and other interesting styles, including a woman that was dressed like a female Neo except with the worst, widest, sun-specs he had ever seen, and her hair shot straight up like a premature rock star pretending to be a vampire. Her pale yellow hair drooping like the quills on a petrified porcupine.
He continued to turn the pages crossing what looked like a Japanese emo-chick that had a terrible, swollen, puffed up, full-headed Mohawk. She was followed by a model with a striped, blue and white lined, top jacket for some kind of oriental charter school uniform with a black lined knee skirt; inexcusably ending with little high heeled ebony leathered shoes with a fuzzy zebra striped tops.
Daniel felt a short shiver run up his neck when he looked down to see the model's small white printed name before quickly rubbing his temples as he turned the page trying to get the male model's name out of his mind. He mindlessly flipped through the rest of the pages before uninterestingly sighing as his head fell onto yet another magazine showing bold yellow letters sponsoring the next art tour at the Musée Rodin.
Daniel's mind felt duller then Joe's tasteless sex jokes during a fully hammered evening at the Chinawhite, followed along with the worst accompanied high-pitched blondie from a 1940's horror show. He stared at the white, stitched vines trying to collect any form of concentration; his fingers drummed along the bedside rhythmically matching one of Rose's hummed songs echoing through his cranium. His thoughts painted and brushed Rose's smile, her excitement from his stories of the outside world. Her face would light up and stars would dance in her eyes giving the perfect reflection of all her dreams and wants of going to see a world beyond this cold prison, to go see the people and the art and…

Suddenly, he sat up straight, an idea forming in his mind. His eyes widened as he glanced out the window, the deep purple mountains swelling with yellow, fiery light from the setting sun. He smiled as the small, brown spotted song thrush finally returned to its favorite perch next to a white, swooning angel hanging near the drying lianas climbing up towards the second high tower. He quickly ran over to his desk and grabbed a piece of paper from the untouched stationary Ted had so carefully arranged for him and started to write in his most legible handwriting:

'Hey Rose,

First off, I have to say I'm sorry for getting you in trouble, and for everything else, too. I didn't mean for any of it to happen. I know your friends don't like me and, yes, I know I'm the arse who made it that way. I never wanted you to have any criticism from anyone, which is also my fault, so sorry about that, too.

Anyways, I really have wanted to talk to you in person, without your dad killing me, hopefully. If you want to come, I'll be waiting in the Northeast Tower Cell at midnight. I think it will be the least detectable time and place. I'll be waiting there every night this week.

Secretly hoping,

Daniel

P.S. You should probably stick pillows under your blankets to make it seem like you're still asleep. (Sadly I do have experience in sneaking about where I shouldn't)

P.P.S. Don't you even bother pretending to be surprised.'