Ogres were not men. They pillaged and plundered and took whatever they wanted. Several kingdom's worth of armies could not stop them. Neither could Avon's walls.

The attack had been unexpected. Surprising, given the ogres' size and lack of stealth. As it was, Belle found herself running down a hall in a horribly inappropriate ball gown as the castle shook.

Gaston, sword in hand, strode around the corner in front of her. "Belle." His features darkened as she skidded to a stop in front of him. "Why are you still here?"

Panting, Belle waved a shaking hand at the hall behind her. "I couldn't find my father, and then the back gate was blocked, and-"

Gaston cut her off as he grabbed a hold of her arm and began to march her back the way she had come. "I have to hide you somewhere until I can defeat this menace. You are not to move until I return for you." He came to a storage closet at the end of the hall and pushed her inside of it.

"But what about my father?" The door shut in her face, and she heard the click of the lock. "You can't just leave me here!" She pounded on the door with a fist before subsiding as she heard his booted feet running away.

While hailed as the bravest knight of the surrounding kingdoms, Gaston was not known for his brains. If the shaking of walls were anything to judge by, the ogres were plowing their way right through the castle. Belle cast a glance up at the ceiling. She could be crushed by falling stone should the castle begin to collapse.

Wheeling around, she began to dig through a trunk in hope of finding some way of getting the door open. At the very least, she could find a more secure place to take cover in case the ceiling fell. Of her father and friends, she did not allow herself to think. She could panic about them once the battle was over, and she had managed to survive.

She was in a small room that they used to store items for religious ceremonies. She might have used the ornate candle sticks to pry the door open, but most metals had been sold or melted down for armor.

She was halfway climbing into the empty trunk and preparing to shut the lid for some manner of protection, when the door to the room flew open with a bang, half of it disintegrating on impact. Belle fell over onto her side as green fog poured over the floor.

At the source of the fog stood a figure. He was taller than even Gaston, his stature given its towering appearance by the long black cloak that he wore. He had an almost skeletal face with a thin mustache over his nearly nonexistent mouth.

He raised his hands outward so that the long sleeves of his robe trailed downward and intoned, "I am the all powerful sorcerer, Jafar. Where is King Maurice?"

Belle, realizing that that her legs were hanging outside the trunk, managed to cease her gaping and scrambled to her feet. "We called for you weeks ago! Why didn't you come sooner?"

"Who are you that you dare to question me?" His voice had an oily quality. She knew of no other way to describe it. His accent, too, was unfamiliar.

Belle managed to draw herself up under his unblinking gaze. "I am a member of the royal family, and I need you to help us."

He merely scoffed. "You are clearly an idiot if you have not fled with the remainder of the royal family." He nodded at her ball gown. "If you thought to use your position as princess and the remainder of your dwindling wealth to make a bargain, you will be disappointed. That will not work with ogres; they have no reason."

Belle opened her mouth to defend her pride but then shut it again. Time to call upon the endless hours of protocol lessons. "Will it work with you, sir?"

"If you are willing to make a deal, I can save your little village."

"What do you want?"

"Fortunately for you, I am in need of a cleaning girl for my palace. If you indenture yourself to me, I will stop the ogres."

Belle stared at the floor for a moment. Every instinct she had warned her away from the sorcerer. She had no guarantees that her duties would be more than cleaning. However, her home was already crumbling, and she had to save what remained of her people. Do the brave thing, and bravery will follow.

"I will go with you," She agreed, still not daring to approach him. When he began to grab her by the arm, she pulled back. "Wait, can I make sure my family is still alive first?"

"More than likely they are already dead." And with that, he jerked her forward into a cloud of green fog.

-X-

As soon as her feet hit solid ground, Belle doubled over, coughing violently to get the foul smoke out her lungs. It was several moments before she began to take in her surroundings. At first, she did not even know that she was in a castle. The flagstones usually held the chill in the air no matter the season. Yet despite the stone walls and floor, it was very warm, and it felt slightly difficult to draw each breath.

Jafar had moved to stand across the hallway where he could better scowl down at her. "If you are finished gasping, I have to show you your duties." He started down the hall without a glance to see if she was following.

Stumbling over the hem of her gown, Belle started after him. The hallway was much narrower than even the servants' quarters at her home, and she had to turn sideways to avoid catching her dress on the walls. Oddly enough, there were no windows that she could see. Their path was lit by candles in sconces.

After a series of twists and turns that had her thoroughly lost, they arrived at a pair of doors many hands higher than the both of them. Jafar pulled the left door open and swept through so that Belle had to shove it open hurriedly before it caught her gown.

"My workroom . . . and yours now," Jafar intoned, moving to stand beside a table.

Belle followed him, staring about the large room with wonder. It was hexagonal in shape with large bookcases against three of the walls. A table larger than the one in the banquet hall stood in the center of the room. It was littered with dusty books, bottles, and candles in various states of melting.

Belle's eyes perused the bookshelves eagerly for several minutes before Jafar noticed her staring. "There are three things in this room that you are forbidden to touch. Do not touch the books, but you will dust the shelves. Do not touch my work table. And the cage."

Belle looked over to her new master to see him gesturing to the side of the room that she had not yet examined. There sat a large, rusting cage. Pressed up against the bars, features twisted into a rictus grimace was a creature, the likes of which she had never seen before.

Belle immediately dropped her eyes to the floor as his tattered tunic revealed far more of the male figure than she was used to seeing. In a moment, she managed to find her voice. "Wh-what's wrong with him?"

Jafar frowned down at her. "It is not a him; it is a demon. The Dark One. And I would advise you not to go anywhere near his cage. Do you want to know what he was doing when I caught him?"

Despite herself, Belle nodded. Curiosity had always been her weakness.

"He was skinning children."

Belle felt her throat constrict at the mental image he conjured. "What if he gets out?" she murmured, still staring at the floor.

"No need to worry about that. I control every move he makes. He cannot even take a breath without my permission."

More questions came to mind, the first and foremost being just how said control was exerted. She had read a few stories about demons, and she could not see any sign of a magical circle or blood sigils anywhere. At any rate, she vowed to herself that she would stay far away from the cage.