Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/82605.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence, Major_Character_Death, Underage
  Category:
      F/F, F/M
  Fandom:
      Snow_White_and_the_Seven_Dwarfs_(1937), Sleeping_Beauty_(1959),
      Cinderella_(1950), Mulan_(1998), Beauty_and_the_Beast_(Disney)_(1991),
      Little_Mermaid_(1989), Pocahontas_(1995), Aladdin_(1992)
  Relationship:
      Beast/Belle, Belle/Ariel, Aurora/Cinderella, Jasmine/Mulan, Belle/
      Jasmine/Mulan/Cinderella
  Character:
      Belle, Ariel_(Little_Mermaid), Aurora, Cinderella, Pocahontas, Fa_Mulan,
      Jasmine, Snow_White
  Additional Tags:
      Orgy, Smut, Crossover, Wordcount:_1.000-5.000, Fairy_Tales, Past_Tense,
      POV_Third_Person, POV_Female_Character, Female_Protagonist, Female
      Characters
  Stats:
      Published: 2009-07-18 Words: 3600
****** Dreams of the Garden ******
by orphan_account
Summary
     Belle has begun to dream about a garden.
Notes
     Yeah, look. I don't even know. Don't ask.
     It's some kind of commentary on the "Disney Princess" line anyway.
     With girlpiles. It may ruin your childhood.
Some years after her marriage Belle began to have a recurring dream of a sunny
garden, of fresh green rolling hills under a cloudless sky. There never seemed
to be nighttime in the garden, nor any end to the meandering pathways and
bridges going over streams and ponds and around arrangements of magnificent
flowerbeds. The only buildings were gazebos littered around the grounds, though
on occasion the suggestion of an outline of a castle could be seen in the
distance.
There was an aura of peace in the garden. Other women wandered through it too,
dressed, as she was, in their finest ballgowns glittering with jewels and
golden silk. It was as if she had walked into a storybook setting, but couldn't
make out the plot.
She told Adam about it on occasion, but as the dream was always the same, his
attention soon began to wander to bacon and buttered bread and from there on to
his latest project of charity or diplomacy. She loved him for his good works,
of course, though it left her to spend most of her days alone, walking through
the hallways of the castle or immersing herself in books in the great library,
missing the heat and size of his body next to her.
One evening she fell asleep on the animal skin rug before the bed, it's rough
fur and the heat of the fire reminding her of the old days, and slowly became
aware of the garden around her. The fur had become grass, the golden light of
the fire the bright white of sunlight. She rose. 
One of the other women was looking at her, the one with olive skin and masses
of silky hair that slithered down her silk-wrapped body. This was the one Belle
named Scheherazade. The woman smiled. She was dazzlingly beautiful.
'You've been skulking around on your own long enough,' she said in perfect
French – or was it? It seemed to be no specific language at all, but Belle
understood every word. 'Come – meet the others!'
Confused but excited, Belle took her hand and let herself be helped up. She
dusted grass and leaves from her dress and hurried after the other young woman,
who was laughing as she ran with ease across the grass in her flimsy trousers.
How lovely she was, and how free! Belle gathered her skirts and tried to keep
up, wanting nothing so much as to drop it and run naked through the garden. Who
was here to see it, anyway, but the women?
They arrived at the top of a knoll, the air filled by a flurry of dandelion
seeds blowing in the wind. As it passed she could see the others gathered at
the foot of the hill, sitting around in a gazebo and on a park bench by a
little lake. She thought she saw a large glittering fish flash in the lake and
dive in. The Arabian led her down and the women all rose, one by one. Some were
little more than girls, but they all hugged her one by one, their smiles sweet
and welcoming. Aurora, Snow, Mulan, Cindy – every name more strange and exotic
than the other. The woman who'd found her introduced herself as Jasmine. 
It was only when they began to talk of their families that Belle realized who
they were. 'I've read about you!' she exclaimed. 'All of you! I know your
stories!'
They all fell quiet then, and the mermaid surfaced, too, her red hair plastered
over her face, dripping on the ornamental rocks set around the lake, her blue
eyes troubled.
'No,' said the girl called Snow. She was little more than a child. 'You don't
know our stories – not the way we lived them.'
So they began to tell them. Aurora described the helpless need she'd felt flash
through the castle when the dragon fell, the death throes that invaded her
still sleep and made her tremble on her bed, long before the prince found her
and claimed her still mouth. Ariel spoke of the phantom pain of split legs and
shards of glass in the feet she never had when she dreamed. Jasmine spoke of
her own beast, her pet tiger, and of copulating with her gutter prince
thousands of feet in the air, the wind whipping at their hair. Finally,
haltingly, Belle told them about the Beast, and how she missed the large rising
and swelling of his chest, the roughness of his fur against her face; how
disappointed she was when her hand searched for him and found only Adam's bare
chest.
They all gathered around Belle to smile and pet her comfortingly. It was then
that Mrs Potts found her lying on the rug and soon fussed her up and awake and
into her own bed.
'I dreamed of the garden again,' said Belle to Adam when he came in shortly
after. She had not been able to go back to sleep. 
'Did you?' he said and kissed her forehead as he began to undress. 
'I spoke to the women this time.' 
'And what did they say?' He sat on the bed to undo his boot laces.
'They told me stories,' was all she could bring herself to say.
With his low rumble of his snore next to her, she captured sleep again.
Belle stood before the lake and, longing for its cool waters, began to undress
herself. There was no sign of the others. 
She undid her bodice and let it fall on the hoops of her dress, then undid
three more layers of laces to lift off the whole of her dress and petticoats.
Then off came the hoops, the corset – and there she had to struggle, usually
having Adam or a servant's help to do it – and finally the bloomers. She stood
naked in the warm summer breeze and sunk a toe into the cool, shady waters,
then splashed into the water. She dived once to wet her hair and swam around
the lake, avoiding the lilies, diving again to chase silvery-backed fish that
darted away fast as thought. 
As she surfaced she looked around. There was still no sign of the other women.
'Jasmine!' she called out. No-one came. She ducked beneath again, holding her
breath, admiring the yellow-green-blue shifting light underwater.
There was a bubbling that was almost like a giggle underwater, and a flashing
of a larger tail. Belle surfaced again for air, and then dived to chase the
mermaid, going deeper in towards the middle of the lake. There was no sign. She
was just about to go up for air when a flash swam bubbling all around her,
strong and fast, green and glinting, red and bright. She laughed herself, got a
mouthful of water and struggled up, coughing and spurting. Ariel surfaced next
to her, exclaiming, 'Are you all right? I'm so sorry!' 
'No, it's all right,' Belle gasped. 
'Are you sure? It's just, you see, I sometimes forget...'
'It wasn't your fault!' Belle laughed.
'I shouldn't play with humans,' said Ariel, hanging her head, and dipping below
to swim circles around Belle in an agitated manner. 
Belle dived just to stop her and bring her back to surface. The girl's arms
were so thin, her skin so elastic and cold. 'I want you to play with me!' she
said firmly.
Ariel smiled, then, bit her lower lip, and darted a look around the empty
garden. Then she wrapped her arms around Belle and kissed her, small tongue
slipping in between her lips.
In the morning Belle said nothing about her dream, though it stayed with her,
vivid as the day. She wandered through her own garden that day, her eyes seeing
different trees, different clouds, ones that hung sparse above a world where
nothing ever changed.
She spent much of the day reading in the great library, in pools of light
shafting through the high windows, sitting on the floor in the upper levels
with a book open on her lap – Austen or Trollope or Marlowe. In the afternoon
she helped her father in his studio, building a kitchen that would cook its own
meals, while some of the kitchen staff hovered anxiously around, Mrs Potts
livid for this invasion into her sphere by cogs and wheels. No explanation of
reduction of working hours would move her. She only calmed down after dinner
and came upstairs to help Belle unlace, as Adam was working late again and the
princess wanted an early night. She sunk into the bedclothes, hungry for the
summer air of the garden. 
A blink, and she was there. She turned around and saw she was standing at the
foot of the gazebo. There was no-one else in sight, but the decorative stones
showed fresh wet splashes that indicated the little mermaid had been around
recently. She looked around, listened to the sound of birdsong and rustling
leaves. There was a sharp intake of breath and a bump. 
Belle twirled around. The sound had come from the gazebo, which had high enough
half-walls around it that she could not see its floor. Carefully she rounded it
to the short flight stairs and saw Mulan's whiplike form undulate, naked, in
the arms of Jasmine, whose fingers stabbed up repeatedly between Mulan's legs.
Mulan's mouth was open and gasping, her hands lost in the free-flowing mass of
Jasmine's hair.
Belle woke with a start, the room black and empty before her. Her skin was
tingling, and she closed her eyes again, grasping for the dream, letting it
pull had back in. 
Aurora was pinned against the side of the gazebo, her bodice pulled down, round
pink breasts emerging from the blue, her dress hitched up. Cindy on her knees
in front of her, her arms full of Aurora's dress, her head buried between
Aurora's thighs. Belle watched them, unashamed, not even startled, as it is
only possible to be in dreams. Aurora moved so deliciously against the white-
painted wood, her always flawless locks tangling, her eyes closed, her face
flushed, a sweet smile on her lips. How beautiful she was! Cindy's arms
encircled her, held her still, her head moving slightly. Belle wanted to know
what she was doing; wanted to do it herself. Her hands went to her bodice
laces. She knew she wouldn't be denied – not here. This was the perfect place –
a true dream world. 
'Let me help,' came a voice from the lake. Ariel was sitting by the lake,
smiling bright as the sun, her tail splashing in the water. Belle sat down next
to her and let her help her out of her pinching clothes. The silk and satin
brushed the lake water and their colours ran, but Belle couldn't care less. As
the corset released her, Ariel's fingers played over her skin, her brown raised
nipples. Belle shivered. Ariel grinned and lay her hand palm open on Belle's
breast. Belle bit her lower lip when Ariel flicked a thumb over her nipple, and
gasped when she rolled it. 
Ariel's mouth soft and sweet like a day in the sun. She gently pushed apart
Belle's legs. 
Her touch was light, her fingers nimble, and Belle choked back a plea for more.
More there was; much more. Ariel's lips brushed her neck, her chin, closed
around her nipple with a flick of tongue and a nip of teeth and then there was
a thumb on Belle's pearl, a pair of lakewater-slick fingers pressed tight
against the top of her passage and she fell back, her hair mixing with grass,
an acorn under her shoulders, her back arching, Ariel's kisses hot on her
belly.
'My sweet,' she breathed, but Ariel's mouth was fastened on her pearl now, and
she knew what Cindy had been doing. It was just as she had read, and she buried
her fingers into Ariel's mass of red hair to pull her face closer, to urge her
to continue. So soft this touch was and so lovely beyond compare; it was not
long before she came, with a whimper and a buck of her hips that lifted them
clean off the ground and held them there, suspended between air and Ariel, and
it was just like a wave crashing into the beach.
Just like she had read.
She lay in the grass panting, naked, her feet in the cool water, her face hot
under the sun, while Ariel continued to kiss her legs. 'Come,' said the
mermaid, and Belle let herself be pulled into the water. They splashed and
laughed until Belle began to wash. She submerged herself and, emerging, shot a
guilty glance towards where Aurora and Cindy had been, but they were gone,
having left only their gowns on the ground. She could see the entangled shapes
of Mulan and Jasmine still lying in the gazebo, a brown slim hand petting silky
black hair.
'So, is this the sort of thing you do all the time here, then?' she asked
Ariel.
'Actually, this is the first time,' said Ariel, swimming lazily but happily
around her. 'You see, none of the others brought sex, not even me.'
'What do you mean?'
'In the garden there is only ever what the dreamers bring into it. I brought
the lakes. Aurora brought the castle. Snow brought the birds, and Cindy, I
think, brought loneliness. Jasmine brought courage, and Pocahontas brought the
wind. You brought sex.'
'But why?' 
'Don't ask me, sweetheart,' said Ariel, stretching deliciously, water falling
in rivulets down her small breasts. 'It's something you love and know, or maybe
miss, or you would not have brought it.'
Belle laughed. 'Then who brought the corsets? I can tell you they are not a
thing I love!'
Ariel ducked below, swam around for a moment, and resurfaced with a troubled
expression. 'I shouldn't tell you,' she said, 'but you should be warned.'
'What? What about?'
'It was them,' said Ariel, swimming closer, and grasping Belle's arms. There
was fear in her eyes. 'They're the ones who said we must wear corsets. They're
the ones who take Mulan and Pocahontas away sometimes, for the wind songs and
the war they brought. They're the ones who took away Kida. We've never seen her
again, or Elena. Please – don't do anything to anger them.'
'But who are they?' cried Belle.
'They live in the castle,' replied Ariel and dived.
The ground rumbled, the waters rose in a sudden swell of wave and clouds sped
across the sky. A scream stuck in Belle's throat as the world went black.
-
'Are you quite well, my love?' asked Adam with concern over the breakfast.
There was no paperwork this morning, just the two of them and the meal that was
set between them. Sunlight filtered through the tall French windows into the
parlor. 
Belle's hand shook as she lifted the delicate porcelain cup of coffee. 'I did
not sleep well, I think,' she replied.
'I hope you don't feel like you must wake early just because I do,' he said,
laying his large hand over her little one. She smiled at him, looked into the
gentle eyes she'd fallen in love with, touched his cheek, and denied
everything.
After breakfast she excused herself with a headache and went back to bed. It
was nearing midsummer and the day was hot and sweaty. She tossed and turned on
the bed, wrapping herself into moist bedsheets. She got back up to lock the
door and strip off her nightgown to sprawl naked on the silky mess she'd made.
She blinked and the sun was hot on her face, a trickle of sweat on her brow.
Another blink and there was a cool wind under a brilliant blue sky, grass
tickling her back, and a dark shape between her and the sun.
'Ariel?' she asked, but as the shadow shifted she saw it was Jasmine, her soft
eyes fevered, her lips parted. Belle had barely time to react before Jasmine
kissed her, her limbs entangling with hers. Belle wore no clothes this time,
nor did Jasmine. Jasmine's nipples were dark and large. Sweat trickled down her
side and made her lean form gleam.
Jasmine's fingers were warm as they sneaked downwards across Belle's sides.
They made her shiver. 'Yes,' said Belle, 'yes, more, please, now.' 
She felt other hands on her neck, then, gathering her hair and pushing it
aside, and saw blonde hair falling across her shoulder, tickling her. Cindy had
undone her bun. Her lips were light and cool on Belle's neck. She bent back
towards her, shivering with the combined light touches of warm and cold. 'Oh
please, more,' she gasped. 
Mulan's small hand snaked in between her and Jasmine just as Jasmine's tongue
began to swirl around Belle's nipple. Belle saw Mulan smile impishly before she
kissed Belle, her tongue softly probing, her fingers finding Belle's other
nipple and twisting it, teasing it. 'Oh, more!' Belle gasped against Mulan's
sweet little mouth.
Cindy lay Belle down on her back in the grass as Jasmine slid down her body,
searching out secrets. Mulan straddled her, and Belle pulled her up, up and up
until she had access to shove her tongue in between Mulan's folds. They were
soft and pungent and salty. The sun shone a blinding white behind her, turning
her undulating body into shadow, silhouetting her open mouth, until the shadow
of Cindy moved to merge with it.
There was a new mouth on her nipple – and another on the other – Pocahontas?
Aurora? Ariel? Belle could not know. The air moaned and steamed and twisted
around her in flesh and pleasure. Sparks appeared at the edges of her vision.
Belle was lost to the taste of salt and come, tickling hair on her skin, wet
hair plastered against sweaty skin, a clever tongue plucking at her pearl,
clever fingers in her hidden places, and the sun beating down on them all. 
There was a cry of pain. Belle's eyes opened wide. The sun was swallowed black
rolling clouds and thunder cracked through the electrified air. She could feel
the first raindrops begin to fall on her face, a chill wind blowing. The women
separated, looked up, bewildered and frightened.
'It's them!' cried Snow White, who stood full-dressed on the steps of the
gazebo, her face streaked with tears. 'Oh, I knew you shouldn't have! They'll
take us all away now!' She sat down, breathing laboriously. In the sudden gloom
her skin was white as death.
'No,' said Jasmine, her eyes widening. 'Oh no, what have we done?'
'What's happening?' asked Belle. 
Aurora lifted her right hand. A red drop of blood was blooming on her finger.
'Please! Oh no, please, no!' With a keening cry she collapsed on the ground,
still as death, a greenish tinge blooming at the corners of her mouth.
'What are they doing?' asked Belle, suddenly feeling naked and cold, holding
her arms crossed over herself, suddenly feeling as naked as she was. The rain
was coming down harder now and there was the dark shape of the castle looming
behind its curtain.
'It's our stories,' said Jasmine, stunned. 'They're not just taking us away.'
'What is going on?' cried Belle. 
'They're casting us back into our first stories.' Even as Belle watched,
Jasmine's horrified eyes grew glassy. A red line appeared on her neck, expanded
and stretched until the gash fell open and her head toppled off her body. Black
hair coiled on the grass, and her body slumped after it.
Belle screamed. 
Snow White was coughing, gurgling, choking. Cinderella's eyes were wide,
staring. 'Their feet. Oh my sisters. Their eyes,' she was saying over and
over. 
There was a splash and a wordless gurgle. Ariel had climbed out of the lake.
She had legs, but her feet were bloody, and she looked up at Belle with terror
on her face, opening and closing her mouth as in speech, but no sound came out.
Belle looked at her own hands and saw the imprints of shackles on her wrists.
The princess woke up gasping and shivering. A cool wind was blowing from the
open windows, sending the curtains billowing. Outside, as in the garden,
thunder rolled.
She got up and wrapped a heavy robe around her. Not caring, now, for modesty,
she made her way to the great library. Her husband found her hours later by the
fireplace, stacks of books around her. 
'My poor friends,' she muttered as she lay down the book she'd been studying to
give him a forced smile, her face closed. She would not say any more of it.
She never dreamed of the garden again. Life went on much as it had. She read,
ate with the prince, went to and organized the few rare balls, helped her
father, squeezed into and struggled out of corsets day after day. Except...
The servants became fewer. Those who remained didn't seem to remember ever
having been cutlery or pottery. There were no more songs. Her father left his
studio untended, instead riding out to the city often, on business, he said.
There were lucrative markets to be explored.
One night when the prince roared and threw the pitcher at the wall she could no
longer escape the truth. She knew what it was that had happened. She knew
somewhere there was a book in which she was a character; a book in which her
father was a merchant and the Beast had no name, nor any love to tame. 
Somewhere, Snow White was smiling while her mother danced in red-hot iron
shoes.
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