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hah-studios · 7 years

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The Beauty of a Beast Part 1

In celebration of the upcoming Disney remake and for one of the most timeless love stories ever told: mixing three different adaptions and adding my own twists. A beautiful and strong-willed girl must pull a prince from a monster, a castle from its curse, she must do the impossible and find a way to love a beast.

Maurice was, according to any and all facts, a fool.

A fool that once owned a grand fleet of trading ships, a fool that once lived in a grand mansion of a polished uptown city, bathed in jewels and silks.

But one thoughtless decision to send his entire fleet through the Pacific had sent them all into a hurricane. He had lost not only his ships but his sailors, and with it means to support his family.

Punished for his idiocy he and his children were sent tumbling into poverty, forced to sell many of their riches and move to a small wooden house in a small country town. There they took up the work of farmers, growing their own food, sewing their own clothes and tending to the few farm animals they had.

That had been a year ago, today was the anniversary of when Maurice had lost it all and in a desperate attempt to give his children something to make their new life more bearable he decided to go out and trade the few finer garments and knick knacks he had been able to keep.

The desire had sent him on his chestnut mare into a dark forest that chirped and howled with moving shadows and unseen creatures. The mare’s hooves crackling as she walked over fallen leaves, the bare black branches above intertwining around each other, creating a ebony spider web against the night sky.

The mare fondly named Darling was breathing with an edge of anxiety, her black eyes roving over the intimidating forestry, her flanks shivering with each breath.

Maurice stroked her mane, “Easy girl, won’t be much longer now.” He had hoped to make it to the next town across the forest but with storm clouds hovering over his head he decided it would be better to find an inn or some such to spend the night.

But there was no sign of civilization in sight and the rumble of thunder was starting an oppressive duet with the forest’s moans and Darling was getting more and more agitated by the music’s threats.

Maurice flinched with an icy cold raindrop suddenly splattered on his nose, quickly followed by another, and as the seconds ticked by a sprinkle that would soon become a torrent drenched the man and his horse. Darling whinnied in worry and stopped, her hooves clomping uncertainly on the damp dirt that would soon be slippery mud.

“Easy, easy,” Maurice held the reins tightly in his gloved hands, the gray seams stretching against his flexed knuckles. “Steady, steady.” But it was to no avail, a flash of lightning shot down from the sky, stabbing the ground just behind them. Darling let out a scream of terror, the sound overshadowed by a vicious roar of thunder and the horse darted forward. If Maurice hadn’t already had a tight grip on the reins he would’ve fallen off the horse. Knowing there was no way he could calm her with lightning flashing above them and the thunder rumbling its menace Maurice wrapped his arms around Darling’s rain-soaked neck, praying some animal instinct would lead her to a safe location.

Despite the sting of the rain slicing at his gray eyes he watched the dark forest blur past him, muffled by the sheets of rain that turned the ground beneath his mare into mud, her hooves sinking into the brown mess. But then, quite suddenly, the ground beneath Darling gave and the horse was sliding down the embankment, sending Maurice’s stomach into his throat. But by some miracle Darling reached the bottom of the streaming hill without losing her footing, and when the ground was once again solid beneath her hooves she kept running, froth flecking her mouth and eyes still wide and almost hungry for an escape from the raging storm. Maurice kept his head down, whiskered cheek pressed against his horse’s mane as the trees around them inched closer and closer, the branches reaching down to try and claw at his whipping hair, the trunks scraping against his legs and horse’s ribs. He hissed in pain when an exceptionally sharp peace of bark sliced against his leg, ripping through cloth and grazing his skin.

And just when Maurice thought the force of the rain and his horse’s speed would knock him out of his saddle Darling broke out of the trees-and before them stood a castle.

Darling, her exhaustion overriding her fear, came to a clumsy halt at the closed gates. Maurice slid off her saddle, running his fingers over her neck, soaked with both rain and sweat, as he peered up at the sight before him, made hazy by the rain. The gate loomed over him; it would take at least ten men standing on each other’s shoulders to reach the top. It was deep ebony, the iron bars straight and reaching to the sky before they reached the top and arched and curled into intricate patterns, a thick gray wall just as tall as the gate wrapped around the castle, protecting it from intruders. The castle itself was full of spires and towers, reaching up to the storming sky, black windows suggesting that it was abandoned. There was something about it that Maurice found…gloomy, as if the castle itself was sad.

But he needed to get out of this rain; he would have to ignore the knot in his gut that warned him of danger. Instead he pushed at the gate, expecting it to resist but to his surprise it swung open with ease. Maurice slipped himself and Darling into the castle’s territory and closed the gate with a clink.

Walking across a cobblestone path Maurice saw that the lawn and plants of the castle’s courtyard were eerily well-kept. Perhaps there was someone living here. And perhaps they would be interested in one of his knick knacks.

He found an empty stable full of hay and left Darling to have a much needed rest. With the excitement of running through the storm having passed Maurice now felt a chill that reached to his bones. Fearing he could catch his death Maurice walked to the double doors that was the castle’s entrance, the wood decorated with the carvings of creatures both real and fantastical. He used the iron knocker that was ice cold from the weather and pounded on the door, the wood thrumming with the force, a moment later one of the doors swung open, no one on the other side. With a chill of suspense icing his spine Maurice finally stepped out of the rain and inside.

He was greeted by an immense hall that led into an oval-shaped first room, smooth stone stairs that led higher into the castle, and large door ways that led into other parts of the castle. The sheer size of this place almost sent Maurice to his knees. Whoever lived here…had Maurice just stepped into the home of a king?

He took in a breath, tasting a hint of dust, and walked across the marble floor that was decorated in gold, green, and red, forming swirling and star shaped patterns. His soggy boats squelching with water with every step he took.

“Hello?” he called out, his voice echoing in the seemingly empty hallways. “Is someone there?”

Unbeknownst to Maurice someone was there, or rather, two someone’s. From the dark of the second floor two pairs of eyes watched the man below with interest, one pair a dazzling emerald green, the other a glinting brown.

The brown eyes glared, “Don’t even think about it.”

The emerald eyes flashed with amusement, “Think about what?”

“Stay away from that man Renard. He’ll leave soon enough.”

Maurice was still calling out, “I don’t mean to disturb. But I became caught in the storm, and need a place to stay for the night.”

The smiling eyes were now concerned. “Come, come Plumes have a heart.”

“The Master will-” Plumes began but his voice trailed off into an indignant hiss as his companion left his side and climbed down the steps to the unwanted guest.

Maurice turned on his heel, looking back to the now closed double doors (he could not recall shutting the door behind him) and considered what to do next. But then suddenly a voice spoke up behind him: “Of course, Monsieur you are welcome!”

He whirled around, his eyes moving to the stairs where he saw…a fox. He started slightly at the creature’s sudden appearance; it sat on the third to bottom step, a well groomed tail resting over its soot black paws and intelligent green eyes watching him. Assuming the fox was domestic Maurice continued to look around for the owner of his welcome. Seeing no one else he turned back to the fox. “Who said that?”

He didn’t expect the fox to answer. “I did.”

Maurice let out a shocked cry of fright, stumbling and falling to the chilly marble floor. He stared with bulging eyes and a slack jaw at the animal that had opened its muzzle to speak clear and coherent words. Seeing the man fall the fox’s ears pulled back in worry, it stood up on its hind legs as if it was a man and reached a paw out like it wanted to help him up. “Are you alright, Monsieur?”

Before Maurice could fully wrap his head around this witchcraft the flutter of wing beats announced the arrival of a great horned owl. It landed next to the fox, its tawny feathers puffed in agitation and its wings still flapping with obvious aggravation. “Now you’ve gone and done it, Renard!”

The fox, Renard, rolled his eyes at the owl’s squawk while Maurice finally pushed himself to his feet, staring at the two animals with wonder and confusion. What kind of enchanted castle was this to have animals that acted like men? But then he sneezed loudly, a shiver coursing over his body and distracted the fox and owl from their arguing. Renard stepped forward and took Maurice’s hand between his paws, the fur warm and pads smooth. He made a noise of sympathy, “You are soaked to the bone, Monsieur. Come; let us warm you by the fire.” He led Maurice to an entertaining room where a roaring fire blazed, medium sized statues of lions decorating the furnace a large arm chair of ruby red standing guard before the flames. Maurice let out a great sigh of relief and pleasure as he sat in the chair, the warmth drying his clothes and reaching to his iced bones.

The fox sat before him, his creamy muzzle curled into a smile while the owl had stayed at the back of the room, muttering under his breath. “If the Master is displeased I will not take the blame.”

Hearing the word ‘Master’ Maurice wanted to ask to see the man but then quite suddenly a rolling cart appeared by his side, it carried a tea set and two cats. One had beautiful and long white fur with blue eyes to match, beside her sat an excited looking kitten, its fur and eyes matching its mother’s.

“Would you like a cup of tea, sir?” the feline’s voice was female and it gave away that she had more age than her appearance let on. “It will chase your chill away.”

“No tea!” The owl known as Plumes flew to perch at the top of the arm chair. “No tea!” But his words were ignored.

“Thank you very much.” Still in wonder he accepted the cup of tea the kitten held between its forepaws, its big blue eyes glittering with unbridled curiosity.

“Chaton, don’t stare,” its mother scolded softly.

The kitten lowered itself and turn its wide eyes to her, “Sorry, Momma.” Chaton had the voice of a little girl.

“Do excuse her we have not had a visitor in…” Chaton’s mother trailed off. “Well, in a long time.”

Maurice nodded in understanding, already he felt at ease around these peculiar creatures. “This castle is not easy to find, I myself only found it by accident. My horse had fallen down a rain-washed hill.”

“Is that how you hurt your leg?” The question came from Renard whose eyes had found the tear in Maurice’s trousers.

“Oh dear!” Chaton’s mother looked at the man’s leg with concern while the small kitten clumsily climbed onto Maurice’s lap to get a closer look.

“It’s just a graze,” he assured him. His leg wasn’t even bleeding and the pain had subsided, he could fix the trousers once he returned home. He smiled when the animals (with the exception of Plumes who still silently glared at him) showed their open relief.

Chaton smiled up at Maurice, still sitting on his lap, when her eyes moved to his neck. “What’s that?”

She reached a small and soft paw to the golden locket that hung from the man’s neck. Maurice smiled and undid the chain to hold the locket in his palm. “One of my most prized possessions.” He opened the golden oval to reveal a folded piece of parchment. With the animals’ wide eyes on him he undid the parchment and showed them a picture, it was a beautiful painting of Maurice’s five children: “My family.”

He pointed to his two sons, dark brown hair curled and faces handsome, “My sons, Tristan and Nicholas.” He pointed to his two eldest daughters, twins of fair hair and skin, “My daughters, Lucy and Susan.”

Chaton’s small paw patted the image of the final girl in the family portrait, “Who is that?” The girl in question was unlike the other four children; her skin was the color of fine chocolate, her hair glossy ebony and eyes shining amber. Maurice’s smile was full of the greatest love and affection. “That is my youngest, Belle. I adopted her when she was just a little girl.” It was back when his fleet was still intact and prosperous. He had just lost his wife who died to give birth to a stillborn child and decided a journey across the seas would be best for him and his children. They had been at a port in Africa when he came across a beautiful young girl who wore nothing but rags but whose eyes and smile shined with a beauty and love that could not be outmatched. Learning from the locals that her mother had passed away the orphan had left on Maurice’s ship, a new daughter who filled the hole his wife and stillborn left behind. This small portrait had been made just before the loss of his ships, his children smiling and eyes sparkling. Only Belle had kept her smile and sparkle when they had lost everything.

“They’re beautiful children,” the silky cat of snow smiled.

“Gorgeous,” Renard agreed.

Plumes let out a hoot of annoyance, his head having turned to stare at the empty doorway of the room.

Talk of his children reminded Maurice of why he was here. “You say you have a Master?” He moved to take off the satchel that held the items he intended to trade. “Could I see him? I had hoped-”

“No!” Their four voices rang out in unison, all with an edge of nervousness and even fear.

Renard cleared his throat and shook his head. “Our Master is a…introverted…person. He rather keep to himself.”

“I see,” Maurice frowned. “I had hoped to see if had anything he would like to barter for.” He quickly changed the topic when he saw the animals’ worried expressions. “But I won’t disturb him. Could I stay until morning? I will quickly be on my way then.”

“Of course,” Renard smiled but his voice was still strained. “Rest by the fire, enjoy the rest of your tea.”

Plumes spoke up, “Renard, Chat, a word.” He flew out of the room, the fox and cats following after him, with Chaton waving her pink-padded paw in farewell. Maurice could hear the owl speaking as they walked farther and farther away, and when he could no longer hear their voices he stood up. With the introduction of the talking animals his shock and wonderment had burned away any fatigue he had originally had. So, with the storm becoming a mere memory he decided he would check on Darling one last time, making sure she would be safe and comfortable for the night.

Slipping back out the front doors that once again opened and closed on their own accord Maurice walked across the damp grass of the castle’s grounds, the air now thick and fresh with the enhanced scent of the greenery.

But on his way to the stables he spotted something the rain had hidden from him when he first arrived. It appeared to be a small labyrinth of tall hedges, and terrible curiosity came over him to see what was hidden inside. Deciding he could check on his mare afterwards Maurice walked through the labyrinth of deep green hedges, coming across a clearing that formed a circle. Inside the clearing were a series of smaller bushes cut and trimmed to form the shape of fierce animals such as feral cats and bears, he even saw a griffon. They stood as if they were sentries to a large rosebush in the heart of the clearing. Maurice stepped closer, the white roses of the bush reminding him of the stars that now glowed above him. A moment later a thought whispered through his head: Belle.

His daughter had always loved roses, the only other thing she favored more was books. If he could bring her one of these flowers, as pure and white as freshly fallen snow, her smile would be worth his travel.

Maurice reached his gloved hand out to the bush and plucked one rose, bringing the white petals to his face, breathing in the fragrant scent. He smiled.

But then all of a sudden he was knocked to the moist ground, a weight pinning him down and a large clawed paw pressing his face into the grass. Maurice let out a gasp of terror, the rose falling away from his trembling fingers.

He saw a flash of razor sharp fangs and then a voice spoke, a voice that sent Maurice back into that forest where wolves stalked and darkness reigned, brought back to him the terror of receiving the news that his ships would not be returning, the terror as he watched the life fade out of his wife’s eyes. It was the worse kind of fear-the helpless kind. “So this is how you repay me for letting you have shelter from the storm? You steal from me?!”

“I-I’m sorry!” Maurice gasped out the words, feeling like his heart would break against his ribcage. Though the pressure that pinned him down did not bruise him the fear would leave marks that lasted for days. Whatever this monster was it was clearly the master of this castle. “I didn’t mean any offense!”

“Words are silent compared to actions,” the creature snarled. “Actions are so loud they could make one’s ears bleed. And I plan on screaming back.”

The monster’s words confused Maurice until he saw its paw in his vision, it was almost human like, with long fingers that ended in sharp black claws and covered in thick dark fur. He flinched when it grabbed his locket and ripped it off his neck. “No!”

“This is to pay for your shelter,” the master snarled. His voice lowered with a promised threat: “Your imprisonment will pay for the rose.”

Its claws dug into Maurice’s clothes and it started to drag the old man across the grass and toward the castle. The man screamed and cried out, frantically digging his nails into the ground to try and break free. But there was no point, there was no escape.

From one of the many windows of the castle Renard and the others watched the scene below them, their expressions showing the worst kind of fear.

Belle sat at the fountain in the heart of town, her amber eyes moving across the pages of her latest book. Behind her Lucy and Susan stood at the window of the town’s only clothing store, mooning over the newest dresses on the other side of the glass.

And, naturally, arguing over who it would look best on.

“That pink would fit my skin tone much better,” Lucy told her sister, running her fingers over her slender, long neck. “You’re too tan.”

Belle didn’t have to look behind her to see her sister’s scowl. It was clear in her voice: “I’m only tanner because I actually do work while you laze around the house!”

“I cook and clean the house!” Lucy shot back.

“How about you clean up after those filthy animals once in a while?”

Belle tuned out their argument for a few minutes before the sound of her name brought her out of her imagination. “Belle, don’t you have anything better to do than read those silly books?”

She let out a soft sigh, using a violet ribbon to mark her place in the ‘silly’ book and closed it. Fair Verona would have to wait.

She looked over her shoulder to meet her sisters’ matching green eyes, “Haven’t you anything better to do than fawn over dresses you can’t afford?”

Lucy pouted, “The difference between a dress and a book is that a dress will get a man’s attention.”

Belle stood up, placing her book in the pocket of her apron and walking over to join her sisters’ side. “Yes, but I’m not trying to get a man’s attention.”

“And that’s your problem my dearest little sister,” Lucy cooed in pity, placing a delicate hand on her cheek. “You think dusty books can satisfy you when only a man can do that.”

Belle had serious doubts over that. Besides it wasn’t like she was against men, perhaps she would be happier if she found that one special person. The only problem being that her ideal soul mate would have to at least respect her love of reading and none of the men in this town did that. On the contrary, both her personality and looks were too different in this town, and the gossip of this place was not quiet. Only one man outside her family showed her any attention and oh how she wished he would jump into a lake.

Speak of the devil a charming and arrogant voice sliced through the air, making her sisters instantly smile but sent a shiver of dread down Belle’s spine.

“Good afternoon, ladies.”

Belle turned around to face Gaston, the richest man in town and the best hunter. By looks he could be an angel from heaven, a strong jaw, raven hair pulled back by a crimson ribbon and ice blue eyes. He was beautiful to look at but he made Belle’s skin crawl, he was rude, boorish, and egocentric. He would never be the man for her.

But of course-he did not know that.

Gaston tossed his arm across her shoulders and flashed his one hundred watt smile that made Lucy and Susan melt. “Belle,” his voice was shamelessly flirty.

“Gaston,” her tone was polite but icy.

She tensed when the man took her book right out of her apron, removing his arm to leaf through the pages. “How can you read this? There aren’t any pictures.”

“It’s called imagination, Gaston,” Belle pulled her voice through tight teeth.

He gave her a look that was similar to Lucy’s pity but it was even more condescending. “Why read when you could be spending time with me?”

Why breathe when you could be dead? Belle thought viciously but her father raised her to act like a lady. “Was there something else you needed?”

“I thought I could take you-” he glanced absently at her mooning sisters-“And your lovely sisters to the tavern to see my latest kill.”

“Maybe some other time,” Belle tried and took her book back, holding it protectively to her chest. She thought of Juliet Capulet who had supposed to marry a prince and for a moment wondered how she would react to Gaston’s advances. The moment was short-lived as she remembered the rather eccentric Juliet might not be the greatest of role models when Belle planned on living a nice long life. “We have to go home and see if our father has returned.”

Belle had barely slept last night when the storm hit, worry for her father knotting her stomach and sent her pacing around her room. But the storm had not lasted long and she prayed he had found shelter during it.

Gaston frowned but Belle was already linking arms with her sisters and hurrying home, Lucy and Susan’s disappointment palpable. “What is the matter with you?” they both whispered in annoyed unison.

“I’m giving you both my blessing to marry him,” was Belle’s curt reply.

“We would if we could,” Susan moaned with what would’ve been heartbreak if she had felt more than lust.

After Belle had departed with her sisters Gaston was greeted by his lackey LeFou, the smaller, fuller man gave a twinge of sympathy. “Didn’t give you the time of day did she?”

Gaston lightly smacked his large hand over LeFou’s head, not moving his eyes from the path the three ladies had taken. “She needed to see if that sorry excuse of a father had returned. I wouldn’t deny the dear girl that.”

LeFou scrunched up his comically large nose, “I don’t know, Gaston. You could have any girl in town. Why her?” LeFou’s dislike of the girl was obvious, not fond of Belle’s disinterest in Gaston and her…differences.

Gaston let out an exasperated groan that hinted they had had this conversation before. His eyes found his loyal shadow. “LeFou what did I tell you the moment after I first met her?”

“That she’s gorgeous,” LeFou answered obediently.

Gaston nodded like a patient professor repeating a lesson. He pointed his finger at the smaller man, “And what does that make her?”

Having this conversation repeated almost weekly LeFou knew the answer: “The best.”

Gaston pointed to himself, “And what do I deserve?”

LeFou sighed; his round slouchy shoulders sinking, “The best.”

“Good LeFou,” Gaston patted his head as if he was a dog that learned to sit on command. The taller man straightened to his impressive height and sent his dazzling smile after Belle who had long since vanished. “Ever since I met her I knew I must marry her. The most beautiful girl in town with the most handsome man in town-no, the earth, we are destined to be.” He turned his smile down to his follower, “People will love it, a rich gentleman saving the poor damsel from the depths of poverty. Hunting for her, giving her only the finest dresses, who could resist? Certainly not her.”

LeFou had a rare moment of wisdom and remained silent. He instead watched Gaston’s blue eyes crinkle, thoughts making the gears in his head turn. “I just need to give her a little nudge in the right direction.” The grin that slowly spread across his lips could make the Cheshire cat jealous. “And I have the perfect little nudge.”

The girls returned to find their brothers in the room that served as both their dinning and living room.

Tristan, the eldest, resembled their father with a thin beard matching his curled brown hair. He was tending to the fading embers of the fire place while Nicholas sat at the table, making lures for fishing.

“Hi,” he greeted his sisters with his trademark sweet smile. His green eyes were bright and inviting, his brown hair curled like his brother’s and his face friendly.

Tristan turned at his brother’s voice, sending a sour glare at the three girls. “Enjoy wasting time in town?”

The five words sent Lucy and Susan into indignant spluttering. But Belle ignored Tristan, looking around the room that only her brothers occupied. Dismay weighed on her brother, making her shoulders sink.

She sat down next to Nicholas. “Papa hasn’t made it back yet?”

Nicholas’ smile was pulled down. “No, not yet… But Belle, he said it would take him a whole day to get to the next town. He probably only arrived this morning.”

Belle’s eyes fell down to her interlocked fingers, his words doing little to ease her anxiety.

Nicholas placed his hand over hers and Belle smiled at him, gratitude in her eyes. While she wouldn’t say it aloud Nicholas was her favorite sibling. He had warmed up to her instantly when Maurice adopted her and the two had always been close. And unlike the others Nicholas was at least trying to make the most of their new life.

Lucy suddenly sat across from her younger siblings and cast an acerbic look at Tristan. “So what will we be having for lunch?”

He almost bared his teeth at his younger sister, “Whatever you bother to cook.”

Lucy rudely rolled her eyes, “If I do it’ll be better than whatever grizzle you’d whip up.”

Susan, who had been making her way to the stairs that led to their rooms, came to a halt and glared at her twin. “That would require you actually dirtying your hands.”

Belle stood up before another word could be said, “Stop.” She looked beseechingly at the gray and green gazes that now watched her. “How can you argue like this when Papa hasn’t returned? Aren’t you worried for him?”

Tristan stood up and rubbed his palms across his trousers, staining them with soot. “We are worried, Belle. But what do you expect us to do? We have to watch the house and he wanted to go.”

Only to appease us, Belle thought with guilt. He blames himself for us living here. And now he could be…

Belle knew Nicholas could be right; Maurice could’ve reached his destination safely. He could be coming home with gifts a plenty. But there was an instinct inside her that wouldn’t unknot her insides, wouldn’t let her pulse slow to a normal pace.

And then there was a knock on the door.

“I’ll get it.” Susan held up her skirts and walked to the door, pressing her eye to the peep hole. A second later she whirled around, skirt flying and expression excited. “It’s Gaston!”

“Hide,” Belle replied immediately.

Nicholas stood up to stand at her side, “What does he want?”

“To see our baby sister,” Lucy was just as excited as her twin.

Belle moaned in trepidation, “But I don’t want to see him!”

“Too bad,” Tristan placed his hands on her shoulders. “He’s the richest man in town and you’re going to be nice to him.”

Belle was pushed to the door and before she could even blink her siblings ran up the stairs to hide but also eavesdrop. “Traitors,” she muttered under her breath. Steeling herself Belle finally opened the door.

And sure enough there was Gaston in all his primeval glory, leaning against the door frame and smile already in place.

“Gaston,” Belle’s smile was strained and unconvincing, “What a…pleasant…surprise.”

“Naturally,” Gaston slipped around her, inviting himself inside.

Belle stayed by the open door. “Did-did you need something?”

Gaston made himself comfortable in Maurice’s chair at the head of the table. Watching him place his mud-caked boots on the table rubbed her nerves raw. He leaned his head back to show off his impressive Adam’s apple, “I’ve come to make your dreams come true, Belle.”

Her dark brow furrowed, “To do that you have to know my dreams.”

“I do!” Gaston lifted his head. “You don’t act like it but you want what all women hope and scheme for: to be a wife.”

Belle’s heart dropped and she was surprised her expression remained placid. Oh no. No, no, no, no.

There was a sharp gasp from upstairs and muffled movement, whichever twin just gasped had quickly been muzzled by a hand.

“Gaston,” Belle’s voice choked. “I don’t think-”

But he was already up on his feet, reaching her side to wrap his arm around her waist. “Picture this”-he extended his free arm out to indicate to a future that would never happen-“Us in a rustic hunting lodge, much bigger than this sack.”

This he-man is inconceivable!

“My latest kill roasting over the fire.” His expression was nothing but smug arrogance.

Also unbelievable, Belle’s thought was as dry as a desert.

Gaston’s smile nearly blinded her as he turned his head down to look at her, “And my little wife massaging my feet while the little ones play on the floor with the dogs.” His lips pouted in thought, “I think we’d have six or seven.”

“Dogs?”

Gaston’s laugh was booming. “No, Belle!” He ran a hand over his finely groomed hair, “Six or seven Gaston Juniors.”

I am not hearing this! “Imagine that.”

Gaston pulled her closer, Belle pulling her head back to keep some distance. The last time she was this nauseous she was seven years old and sea sick.

“We’ll be a perfect pair,” he purred, actually purred. “Just like my thighs.”

Nicholas’ sudden burst of laughter from upstairs made Gaston look up, his grip on her loosening, Belle took the chance to escape his arm.

“Sorry, Gaston,” Belle flashed her own white teeth, placing her hands on his broad chest. “I just don’t deserve you.” When he opened his mouth to reply she gave a hefty push, sending him out of the door. “But thanks for asking!” She slammed the door and turned the lock with a noise of exasperation and disgust.

Not surprising, Tristan and the twins were furious with Belle for rejecting the richest man in town. Going on and on about how accepting his “proposal” would’ve brought them back to the comfy life they had once known. Belle sat silently and let them ramble on until they finished their rant by grounding her. Indulging them Belle made her way up the stairs as they proclaimed they would be going back to town to try and win Gaston’s favor. Those words made her stop halfway up the creaking steps and watched the three leave the house.

Nicholas, leaning against the table, gave her a sympathetic smile, “Don’t let them bother you. You know what they’re like.”

“But they might try to bring Gaston back,” Belle wrapped her arms around herself, feeling cold. “Nicholas they might try to force me to marry him.”

Her brother’s eyes narrowed and he moved into a protective stance, “They can’t force you to do anything.”

But they could certainly try; there was only one person who could order them to stop. “I have to bring Papa back.”

Dusk was falling over them as Belle and Nicholas made their way to the family’s barn, Tristan, Lucy, and Susan still in town.

“Why not let me go?” Nicholas asked of her, worry making his voice strained. “Or at least wait until morning.”

“No.” The fact it was already evening with no sign of their father did nothing to calm her anxiety. “They might bring him over tonight, no it’s better I go alone. I’m smaller, Philippe can move faster with just me.”

In the barn the large brown horse looked as on edge as Belle felt, which was understandable, he missed Darling. She stroked the horse’s large nose, “Hi, boy. Think you can help me find my father and your sweetheart?”

Philippe whinnied.

“Just be careful, Belle,” Nicholas begged of her as they saddled the horse. “Don’t stay out all night, if you can’t find father right away come home or find a place to sleep for the night.”

“I know.” Belle crawled onto the horse’s shadow, now towering over his brother. “Don’t worry so much, Nicholas. You and I both know I’m tougher than I look. I’ll bring father home and he can pull Tristan’s and the girls’ heads from the clouds.” And maybe even give Gaston a swift kick in his trousers.

But Nicholas still looked up at his sister with such worry that her heart melted for him. She leaned down and kissed his temple, “I promise I’ll be fine. I’ll bring father home and everything will be just fine.”

Straightening in the saddle she let Nicholas lead Philippe out of the barn, when the country side and forest stood before her Belle whipped the reins against Philippe’s broad neck and the horse immediately galloped. In only a few moments the two were swallowed by the shadows of the forest, leaving Nicholas staring after them with a horrid sense of fright crushing his throat.

“How is the Master?”

The question came from Chat, she and Plumes sitting in the room Maurice had been invited to, the fire now only a few embers.

Renard shrugged as he walked in, “I didn’t ask.”

Plumes huffed, “Of course you didn’t. Why not?”

The fox sat down and lifted his muzzle to the ceiling. “You know that locket the man brought?”

“He’s been asking for it,” Chat said sadly. She had made a point in visiting the guest turned prisoner.

“The Master has been staring at the picture inside it,” Renard went on, his voice contemplative. “I don’t think he even knew I was there.”

“Oh!” Chat started suddenly, her blue eyes having found the room’s grandfather clock. “I best find Chaton; it’s time for her bath.” She quickly padded out of the room, leaving Renard and Plumes alone.

The fox watched her go, letting out a sigh when she disappeared. “You know…if only one of the man’s daughters had come instead-”

Plumes’ angry hoot interrupted his musings. “Don’t start! That man shouldn’t have come at all! I warned you but did you listen? Of course not! You never do!”

Renard rolled his eyes as his friend continued to bluster his outrage, Renard’s mind going back to his Master in the west wing, staring with something similar to fascination at a smiling, happy family that was such a foreign concept to the castle. Renard could also recall seeing his master trace a claw over the daughter known as Belle.

Thanks to the mud that was left from the storm Belle had come across hoof tracks. She urged Philippe to pick up his pace, hoping to find where the tracks led before it got darker. But Philippe suddenly jolted, almost falling down a hidden hill, the horse took a few steps back with an uncertain neigh.

Belle narrowed her eyes; the tracks reached this hill that was covered with mounds of dried mud. But she could just see through the dark to the ground below and make out more horse tracks. Belle swallowed, sliding off Philippe’s saddle and holding his reins tight she led him down the steep hill. The process was slow, Belle barely breathing as her feet sank with each step, body braced for the hill to give. Philippe was faring no better, his body trembling as he loyally but reluctantly followed her, his ears pulled back and eyes like saucers of white.

Belle had almost reached the bottom of the hill when the mud gave; yelping Belle forced her legs to move. She clumsily ran down to the bottom of the hill, Philippe was pulled after her, nearly knocking her down when he reached the bottom.

Once again steady on their feet Belle leaned against Philippe’s shoulder, caressing his muzzle. “Let’s try to find a different route on the way back, yes?” He snorted in agreement.

Belle looked to the ground to see the tracks led into an even thicker crop of trees, instead of climbing back onto the horse’s back she led him through the makeshift path. Dark branches arched toward the two which did nothing to calm her nerves, flinching when brambles tugged at her skirts.

But it was not long before the forest broke away and she stood before a castle. Belle’s jaw dropped at such a magnificent yet ominous sight, and something inside of her screamed to go in. This was where she needed to be.

Surprised that the gates were not locked she and Philippe stepped into the grand courtyard that looked so different from the forests beyond the wall, the grass thick and trees flourishing, it was beautiful despite the looming shadow the castle cast over it.

Philippe sniffed the air and all of a sudden whinnied with excitement and ran past Belle, making her lose her grip on his reins. She quickly followed the racing horse to a large stable almost the size of their barn at home. When she stepped inside she broke into a smile, Philippe had found Darling.

The mare looked perfectly fine, Belle noticed with relief as she watched the two horses nuzzle each other with open affection.

“Papa must be inside the castle,” she breathed to herself. Leaving the horses to themselves she turned and headed to the front doors of the castle, heart thrumming in an odd mixture of excitement and anticipation.

Plumes was still trying to make Renard’s ears bleed with his insistent squawks of disapproval. The fox would’ve left long ago but knew the owl would only follow after him, so instead he prayed for a distraction great enough to render Plumes silent.

His prayer was answered with one word: “Hello?”

The one word, spoken in an undeniably feminine voice had Plumes shutting his beak and Renard’s tail bristling. They gave each other one look before scurrying to the door way of the room, peeking their heads out just in time to see a figure standing before the stairs that led up into the towers of the castle. The figure’s back was to them, wrapped in a deep gray cloak with long black hair draped over slender shoulders.

Renard breathed out a whisper of awe and nudged his companion. “It’s a girl.”

The nudge having nearly sent Plumes to the floor the owl glared at the fox, “Yes, I’m not blind I can see-”

But Renard had turned to him, grabbing the owl by his wings and shaking him as he spoke: “Don’t you see? It’s who we’ve been waiting for! The one to break the curse!”

“Hello?” the girl called out once more, making her way up the steps. “Papa?”

Renard released Plumes who had gotten dizzy from the shaking and followed after her, a smile pulling up his black lips and making his sharp teeth flash. She had reached the second floor when Renard called out, still climbing up to her: “Bonjour!”

The girl let out a soft shriek and whirled around, large amber eyes finding him and her expression one of shaken disbelief.

“Sorry to frighten you,” Renard apologized. His eyes ran over her, taking in her dark skin and shiny hair and recognized her as the girl in the photo. The one his Master had taken an interest in…

“I’m dreaming.” Her words came out as a soft breath. “I fell down that hill, hit my head, and now am dreaming about talking foxes.”

Plumes then chose to land next to Renard, giving him a sharp stab with his beak. “Ow!” Renard barked, rubbing his shoulder.

“Haven’t you caused enough problems talking to complete strangers?” Plumes demanded.

“And owls…” Belle added.

“Look at her.” Renard indicated a dark as pitch paw to the girl. “This is clearly Belle.”

She blinked, “How-how do you know my name?”

“Your father is here,” he was quick to answer.

“Papa!” Her face was one of love and relief. “Where is he?”

“Oh-well…” Renard trailed off. He had not thought that far ahead. Plumes gave him an expectant look.

Seeing his hesitation Belle stepped forward, reaching a hand out to take his paw and giving him a pleading look. “Please tell me. I need him back.”

“He’s um…” Renard braced himself. “He’s locked up in one of our towers.”

As expected Belle immediately dropped his hand and took a few steps back, her face now twisted into fear and anger. “What?”

“It’s all a misunderstanding!” Renard quickly tried to appease her.

Her next words were a firm order: “Take me to him.”

Belle still felt like she was in some mad dream as she followed the fox and owl up several flights of stairs. If she was dreaming her imagination was even more vivid than she had thought. The marble floors were bedecked with elaborate patterns that wound and winded across the smooth cold floor. The walls decorated with coats of armor, marble statues of creatures from lions to wolves to even griffons and unicorns. And hanging above her head were chandeliers of all different sizes, the glass glinting with the moon light shining from the windows.

But finally the two talking animals stopped at a foreboding wooden door, pushing it open Belle looked into a dim and dusty room that made her swallow. But then Maurice’s voice came through the darkness: “Who is there?”

“Papa!” Belle dashed in without another thought, leaving the fox and owl at the doorway. Her heart clenched when she saw her father behind a set of bars, shivering in the cold and skin pale. Belle fell to her knees before the cell and Maurice’s eyes nearly fell out of his head.

“Belle?!” He reached his shivering hands through the rusting metal bars and Belle quickly snatched them between her own, her heart breaking when she felt his flesh that was cold as ice. A protective fury tightened her grip around his fingers.

“How did you find me?” he asked but then shook his head, “Never mind, you have to go. You have to get out of here!”

“Who’s done this to you!?”

“Belle listen I made a grave mistake!” Maurice was shaking, his eyes moving past her shoulder. “You have to get out of here before it’s too late! You can’t let it find you here!”

Belle scowled, “It?”

The word had just left her lips when the room grew darker; Belle turned around, moving herself in front of her father. A large figure was blocking the light of the hallway, its figure made of shadow. The shadow spoke: “Who are you?”

Belle shuddered, the voice like icy water thrown over her skin. But she furrowed her brow and forced herself onto shaking legs. “Who are you?”

The fox and owl, standing behind the form, blinked at her their expressions startled yet impressed by her boldness. But then the shape in front of them growled and they lowered themselves closer to the floor: “I’m the Master of this castle.” He stepped forward and vanished into one of the shadowy corners of the room, but Belle saw two orbs of twilight blue fixed on her, two orbs that kept away from the square of moonlight shining from the single window of the room.

She straightened her spine and forced herself to meet the eyes face on. “I’m here for you to release my father.”

There was a flash of white that was accompanied by a snarling laugh, “Does the outside world now have no punishment for theft?”

“Theft?” Belle echoed in disbelief. She heard heavy footsteps as the creature stepped closer and Belle wrapped her fingers around the bars of the cell, keeping her from moving away.

“I forgave him for trespassing into my castle and how does he repay the shelter I gave him? He steals one of my roses.”

Belle spluttered in disbelief. “Are you insane? My father is sick! He could die in here! And you’re keeping him prisoner because he took a rose!?” The stranger rendered her silent with a vicious growl that made her flinch and press her back against the bars. What kind of man made such inhuman noises? What kind of man did her father call ‘it’?

“Sick or not he is my prisoner!” the shadows growled. “I will not let his crime go unpunished!”

Belle scowled in disgust as her father spoke up, his chilly hand falling over hers. “Just go, Belle. Please.”

“Listen to your father,” the ‘it’ advised, twilight eyes turning away from her, dismissing her. “Leave.”

“What if you take me instead?”

The question sent the entire room into stillness. Belle swallowed, the offer had fallen off her lips before she could decide if she wanted to make it or not. But now that she had she knew in her heart that it was-if not the right thing to do-the Belle thing to do.

“What?” the once snarling voice had gone soft into a disbelief that actually sounded vulnerable. “You…you want to take his place?”

“No, Belle!” Maurice’s voice cracked with desperation.

She disregarded her father’s pleas. “Would you let him go?”

“I would.” The points of twilight moved as he nodded. “But understand if you take his place you have to stay here, there is no going back. You will live here for the rest of your life.”

Belle took in a breath, for a moment wondering if this was punishment for rejecting Gaston. But in the end it didn’t matter. No matter if she was eager to return home or dreading to-she would not leave her father to die cold and alone.

“Belle, please!” her father continued to beg. “You don’t know what that thing is!”

Another spark of white, “Your father makes a good point.”

Belle’s brow furrowed. “Then what are you?”

The twilight slowly blinked and then moved forward, stepping into the patch of moonlight that shone on the floor. The first thing Belle saw were paws instead of feet, long, beast like, covered in stormy dark gray fur and ending in curled black claws. Her eyes moved up to see ripped leather trousers and white shirt, hands that were more animal-like than human and a black cape over broad shoulders. And then she reached the stranger’s face: it too was covered in thick dark fur with dots of white standing out like snow flakes. He had a long elongated snout, two sharp canines curling out of his top lip, triangular ears folded back against his skull. It was like Belle was standing before a creature that was more wolf than man.

She choked out a frightened gasp, her knees giving and making her slid to the floor. Maurice grabbed her shoulders: “Belle listen, I’ve lived my life. Go back to your brothers and sisters.”

The creature…the beast…watched her with dismissive eyes. He expected her to run…

But if she did Maurice would die. She looked over her shoulder and met her beloved father’s frightened eyes. “Goodbye, Papa.”

Belle forced herself back onto her feet, gently pulling herself away from Maurice’s grasping hands and stepped into the lunar glow. She looked up at the tall creature, “I-I will take his place. I’ll stay with you…forever… You have my word.”

If he was surprised by her agreement he did not show it, instead he growled a soft “done” and walked around her to unlock Maurice’s cell. Belle held her clenched, shaking fists to her side. She kept her eyes ahead as the beast dragged her father past her (“No, please. She’s just a girl she doesn’t know what she’s saying!”) and out of the room. Once he and her captor had vanished Belle released a broken sob and fell down to the floor, hiding her face in her hands as she tried to hold back the terror that wanted to drown her in her own tears.

Renard and Plumes watched her with sympathy for a moment before turning to follow their master, ready to tell the rest of the castle they had a new, and permanent, guest.

#batb #beauty and the beast #belle #beast #gaston #maurice #lefou #poc characters #animals #remake #fanfiction #disney

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hah-studios · 7 years

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The Beauty of a Beast Sneak Peek