The Spoilt Beauty And Her Beasts

SETTING: Valen's ROOM

Ophelia sat hunched in the corner of Valen's room, hugging her knees so tightly to her chest it looked like she was trying to disappear inside herself. Her pale, delicate fingers trembled around her skirts, knuckles white. Her eyes were swollen and red, lashes clumped together from dried tears. She hadn't even touched the little bowl of berries Valen had left for her earlier.

Valen entered quietly, pushing the hide curtain aside with his left hand as he balanced a steaming bowl of soup in his right hand. He saw her on the floor and hesitated for just a second.

Then he let out a soft breath and walked over.

"You're not going to see Isabella?" he asked gently, crouching beside her instead of sitting right away. "I heard the village women gathering. I think she's showing them something again. Like the magical thing she called… soap."

His tone was light—carefully so. As if too much force or emotion would break her even further.

But Ophelia didn't respond. Her eyes just stared at the floor like it held all her shame.

"She hates me now," she finally whispered. Her voice was brittle. Cracking. "Because I can't stop being weak."

Valen's face tightened.

He slowly placed the bowl of soup to the side and sat down beside her, not saying anything right away. Instead, he shifted just close enough for her to feel his warmth without crowding her, then gently reached out to wrap an arm around her trembling shoulders.

"Don't say that," he said softly, voice low and steady. "Isabella doesn't hate you. And you are not weak."

Ophelia let out a bitter little laugh, but it got caught in her throat. Her eyes watered again.

"She looked at me like I was a disappointment…" she murmured. "Like I was something broken she didn't have time to fix."

Valen shook his head, fingers tightening ever so slightly where they rested on her shoulder.

"No," he said. "That's not what I saw."

Ophelia finally glanced at him, her lip trembling.

"She was angry," he admitted. "Yes. She was disappointed. But not in you. In what you let happen. In who you defended."

"But I was just trying to be reasonable," Ophelia said, her voice rising with desperation. "She always tells me to be civilized, to be the bigger person, to use words instead of fists. I thought that's what I was doing…"

Valen looked at her carefully, his jaw tense, the light in his eyes unreadable for a moment. Then he said, quiet and honest, "I don't know what all those words mean."

Ophelia glanced up at him, confused.

"But I know this—" he paused, breath steady, eyes on the far wall like he was drawing the memory from somewhere buried, "—when I was little, there was this girl in the village. She had a dog. Small thing. Friendly. Always wagging its tail, licking everyone's hand. Would follow anyone who fed it."

Ophelia blinked, unsure where he was going.

"One day, a boy came along. He kicked the dog. Hard. Just for fun. And when the girl screamed, he laughed and told her it was just a joke. Said it wouldn't hurt the dog. The girl… she forgave him. Said maybe the dog had gotten in his way. Maybe he didn't mean it."

Valen's voice grew quieter.

"But the next time, he kicked harder. Then he told others they could do the same. 'It's just a dog,' he'd say. 'She won't stop you.' And no one did. Not the girl. Not the people who saw. Not even me."

Ophelia's hands tightened in her lap, the air shifting between them.

"Eventually," he said, voice almost a whisper now, "the dog stopped wagging its tail. It stopped coming to people. It stopped trusting. It stopped… everything."

His lips pressed into a hard line. Then he turned to her again, gently but firmly.

"You think you're being kind. That forgiving someone who does wrong makes you strong. But if your kindness tells monsters they're allowed to stay monsters… then you're not protecting anyone. You're just letting them destroy the next dog."

Ophelia stared at him, stunned, something cracking deep in her chest.

"You didn't just protect the man who hit you," Valen added, tone low but weighted like a stone. "You told him it was okay. You told the others watching that it's okay. And you told the next girl he hits… that no one will stop him."

Ophelia's breath caught.

Valen's eyes softened, but his jaw stayed firm.

"You think Isabella was mad because you were too kind," he said gently. "But that's not why."

His voice dropped, not sharp—but heavy. Careful. Like he was setting down something fragile.

"She was mad… because your kindness could get someone else hurt too. Maybe not today. Maybe not you. But someone."

Ophelia's lips parted slightly. Her lashes were damp. Her gaze flickered.

Valen turned slightly to face her more fully, knees brushing hers.

"She wasn't asking you to be cruel, Opehlia," he said quietly. "She just wanted you to stop feeding a wolf because it looked hungry."

That line made her flinch. Her eyes dropped again.

The silence lingered for a beat, until she whispered, "Do you… really think he would've done it again?"

Valen didn't answer immediately. His fingers curled slightly against his leg. And then, after a long breath:

"Do you want to be the reason he might?"

It landed.

Like a stone tossed into a still pond, the words rippled through her.

Her shoulders twitched. Her fingers dug into the fabric of her dress. Her throat tightened, and he saw the way she swallowed—hard. Like her body had to force itself to accept the truth her heart didn't want to hear.

"I just…" she whispered, her voice cracking, "I didn't want to be the kind of person who makes things worse."

Valen's expression gentled. He reached out, brushing a tear from her cheek with the back of his knuckles. It was a soft touch—brief, but grounding.

"You're not," he said. "But sometimes… doing nothing is worse."

His words didn't rise. They didn't scold. They just were. Real. Honest. Irrefutable.

Ophelia looked at him.

Looked through him.

And slowly… slowly, the haze began to clear. The shame and fear didn't disappear—but something clearer took their place.

A quiet understanding.

A small, tired, but real piece of strength.

After a long pause… she nodded.

"I understand now."