Hi. It's us again. And by us, this means it's another collab fic based on Beauty and the Beast. And yeah, its been done before, but too bad. It's going to be g!p in future chapters.
On a stormy night years ago with thunderous clouds and the smell of rain thick in the air, a lady wrapped in torn rags went up the marble steps of a castle in search for shelter. She gripped the brass knockers smelted into the shape of a lion and slammed it three times with as much strength as her frail and trembling body would allow. Footsteps approached the door from within for a coal-haired woman to answer the door.
"Yes?" She demanded, her brow raised and her crisp coattails fluttering with the arctic wind.
"I—there is a storm and…"
"Santana, what is it?" The silken lilt of the princess' voice carried her with as much poise as she walked. Quinn Fabray with her pale cheeks and proudly-tilted chin approached the doorway. "Who are you?" Santana stepped to the side and dipped her head to allow Quinn stare at the beggar that was dripping with rain water, streams of water streaming down, soaking the floors of her foyer.
"May I stay here for the night?" The woman asked weakly. The chill of the evening was starting to get through to her rags that her voice trembled. "It's really cold and—" The beggar dipped into the pocket of her tattered robes and procured a white gardenia, the petals pure and innocent that it momentarily caught Quinn's attention. "Have this in exchange for shelter."
"No. Get out. My castle is not for people like you—vagrants caked with scum and dirt… You're not welcome here." Quinn sneered and reached out to slam the door shut. The wind howled and the hooded figure of the beggar straightened.
"You shouldn't judge based in looks alone. Beauty exists everywhere and your refusal to see it—"
"I don't care." Quinn snapped and moved to shut the door but the frail old lady transformed into an enchantress of exquisite beauty. Her velvet dress flowed down the length of her body, her golden eyes boring deep into Quinn's hazel ones. With her eyes wide, Quinn collapsed to the ground on her knees with a gasp as she begged for forgiveness.
"Your heart is lined with bitter cruelty." The sorceress observed with a sad smile on her lips. "Hearts are for loving but yours… Yours is dark and made out of pure ice. What happened to love, Quinn Fabray? Where did your love go?"
Quinn was speechless because even she had no idea where her human capacity to love went that for a second, she believed that she did not have it in the first place. The enchantress noticed her inability to speak and she chuckled. It wasn't mocking, but it wasn't gentle either. "Don't you feel less than human now, Fabray? You may have all these riches but you don't have love. You don't have a heart."
With spite so clear in the enchantress' voice, she waved her hand over Quinn. "You are nothing but a beast, Quinn Fabray." She snarled. Quinn gasped and felt fire surging through her body as her pores burst through with fur as golden as her hair. Her perfectly-manicured nails grew long and sharp, a dull throbbing shot through her temples, and two horns curled behind her pointed ears. The base of her spine burst with a tail, golden and furry much like the rest of her body.
A spell overran the castle and Santana along with the rest of the servants that were housed in the castle turned into household items. Quinn, in her beast form, gasped at the sight of Santana transformed into a small grandfather clock.
"Until you know of real love, felt with your callous heart, you will remain in this form." The enchantress approached Quinn and brushed a lock of fur away from her face. Taking the white gardenia from a moment ago, she gave it to Quinn who gripped it with her claws. "As time passes, each petal of that gardenia will fall. If you don't feel love in its finest form before the last petal falls, you will remain a Beast for the rest of your life."
Quinn watched the enchantress fade away, leaving trails of magic beyond her wake. She stared at the gardenia until fury filled her to the brim. She lashed out and tore everything in sight, her claws digging into paintings and tapestries that she no longer cared for until she was exhausted. Quinn collapsed in the middle of the main hall, the pale white gardenia pressed against her rapidly-beating heart.
For a moment she thought it was what love felt like: pumping hearts and weary bones. But it can't be, thought Quinn, for she was tired and unhappy.
Who would love her now?
~two years later~
As she walked towards the town square while humming a soft tune, Rachel narrowly avoided Finn who was hanging out by the fountain whistling at every girl who walked past. The girls giggled and blushed at the attention, but it only served to annoy Rachel as she huffed and entered the book shop. The tiny bell resounded and the owner of the book shop, William, rushed out to greet her. "So? How did you like it?" He asked in pure excitement.
"It was fantastic!" Rachel beamed as she strode to the counter, picking up the book that was tucked in her basket. "The villain was a bit farfetched for me, so nothing will ever beat this one." Rachel picked up the tattered book on top of one of the shelves with a dreamy sigh. "Far-off places, daring sword fights, magic spells, a prince in disguise!"
"I'm glad you loved it." William smiled at the young girl. "How about you keep it? No one else really reads in this town—" In her excitement, Rachel shrieked and hugged him from above the counter. With a rushed out 'thank you', Rachel darted out of the shop with the biggest smile on her face.
As she made her rounds for food that her father would bring with him for his trip, Rachel barely paid attention to her surroundings. Finn swaggered over to her as she was looking at the rows of bread that was displayed in front of the bakery. "Rachel."
Upon hearing his voice, Rachel spun around with a roll of her eyes and a groan. "Finn."
"There's no need for you to be so… mean." Finn said, flinching, but he recovered quickly with a dopey smirk on his features.
"Well then, pardon me." Rachel sidestepped the lumbering boy and walked faster towards the direction of her home, in the outskirts of the town. It was one of the downfalls of moving in this small village. The men, or boys, she should say, were lacking in class and mannerisms. Behind her, Finn checked his reflection in the mirror, sucking his teeth to make sure they were clean.
"Are you sure you don't want to marry me?" Finn jogged up beside her with a half-smile on his face. If he wasn't such a fool, Rachel would've found the action endearing, but being Finn, she merely rolled her eyes. "All the other girls want me as a husband, why not you?"
"I'm sorry, Finn. But I don't believe I'm the type of girl you want to marry." Rachel avoided him, keeping the basket of books close to her. She managed to run away from Finn, and she sprinted into her house, locking the door and pulling down the blinds to prevent the boy from looking inside her home. She prepared a quick dinner for her and Hiram which they ate in haste so that Rachel could help her father pack up the rest of his things for the fair the next day.
"Do you want anything back for the trip?" Hiram asked Rachel before they went to sleep for the night.
"Nothing, really. But…" Rachel leafed through the book that was on top of her lap with a discreet smile on her lips. "A white gardenia would be lovely."
Rachel was still asleep when Hiram woke up Philippe, who started with a shrill whine. Hiram winced and silenced the horse with a carrot. He didn't want to wake up his daughter. He always loved how peaceful she looked when she slept. Ever since LeRoy died, Rachel took it upon herself to take care of him and the house and the remnants of innocence as she dozed off was the only thing that Hiram could offer to her.
Riding through a snowy trail hidden by a grove of trees, Hiram dug his heels into the horse's ribs and looked around. "Hmm… We passed that tree a long time ago…" He checked the map and finally saw a post that had planks nailed on them. The etched words were erased or faded, but it was evident which path was least taken. "Ah, we'll go this way." Hiram told Philippe as he adjusted the reins to direct the horse towards the dense, foggy forest. "We'll be there in no time, Philippe. Don't worry."
Hiram and Philippe trudged forth, cutting through the fog for hours upon hours until Philippe stopped. The chill got worse, that Hiram felt the tips of her moustache freeze with the dew and the water from the mist. He looked around until he heard a series of low growls so feral that his blood curdled inside his veins. Turning around slowly, Hiram was faced with a pack of wolves with yellow eyes and snarls that showed off their dark gums.
With a cry, Philippe reared back and dropped Hiram as he sprinted off towards the opposite direction of the woods. Hiram grunted and rose; he could hear the snarling wolves' right behind him, so close that he could feel their teeth sinking into his flesh and tearing him apart until he saw a light. It was a castle with dark statues, sharp and ominous. He ran towards it, panting, relieved to find the main gate to be unlocked. Hiram darted behind the other side of the gate and immediately bolted it, panting as the wolves jumped and growled at him.
Still trying to regain his even breathing, Hiram approached the massive oak front door of the castle, only to find it ajar as well. "Hello?" He called out, confused at the stellar condition of the furniture and the walls, yet no one seemed to be around to take care of things. There was no speck of dust on anything that it was almost unnatural.
A loud crash resounded from the eastern wing, and Hiram's gaze shot towards the sound. Summoning what remained of his courage, he walked towards the light. Unbeknownst to him, a candelabra and a miniature grandfather clock were watching his every move. Hiram, too afraid to go forth, returned to the foyer. "Hello?" He called out, only to be answered by his own calls, bouncing off the walls of the empty castle.
"Over here!"
Hiram snapped and turned towards the direction of the voice. "Who's there?" He cried out again, his cape pulled tight over his body. "I'm just l-looking for a place to stay!"
"We know." The disembodied voice called out again. Hiram swore that he could almost hear the accompanying eye-roll.
"Who said that?!"
"Here!" said the candelabra, jumping towards him.
Hiram yelped and froze at the golden candelabra dancing before him. "What... How is this possible?" He whispered to himself. He picked it up and saw a pair of blue eyes staring back at him. "This is... quite impossible." Hiram murmured.
The grandfather clock waddled up to his foot. "Put her down. At once!"
Shocked that a grandfather clock shouted at him, Hiram immediately set the candelabra back down on its stoop. "I beg your pardon!"
The small grandfather clock waddled over and made sure the candelabra was safe and sound.
"You look chilled to the bone!" the candelabra said in a slight state of shock. "Let's warm you by the fire."
Hiram eyed the grandfather clock, worried that it would yell at him again, before smiling at the candelabra. "That would be grand, thank you. But I have to know..." He peered down at the golden candlestick holder. "How are you speaking? Or moving at all?"
The candelabra beamed up at him. "I'm not supposed to tell. But I'm Brittany and this is Santana." she said, motioning to the small grandfather clock beside her.
Bowing his head slightly, Hiram removed his soaked hat. "How do you do?" Just then, a loud rumbling came from his stomach. He groaned and smiled sheepishly. "I'm a bit famished." He admitted.
Brittany led him into the main sitting area just to the left. "We should warm you up first."
Santana waddled in just after Brittany, looking behind her. "I don't think this is a good idea, Brittany." she said cautiously.
Brittany tossed a blanket around his shoulders and looked over the back of the chair. "I think it'll be okay."
Hiram watched the two talking objects speak in hushed tones as he allowed the warmth from the fire melt the frozen tips of his fingers. "Is something the matter?" He asked.
Santana waddled over to the side of the chair and looked up at the man. "That's not any of your concern."
Just then, the double doors on the opposite side of the room slammed open. A tall, looming figure standing in the doorway. "There's a stranger here.." she said, walking on all fours.
She stalked around the room, the hairs on her neck and back standing straight. Once she reached the side of her chair, she noticed a man. "Who are you? What are you doing here?"
Hiram gasped and froze at the angry growls that came from the beastly figure in front of him. "I.. That is... I got lost, and I stumbled upon your castle..." He stammered hopelessly. "I was hoping to stay, at least for the night. Until the rain lets up."
Quinn growled low in her chest. "You're not welcome here." she looked down at him before raising herself up to her full height. "What are you staring at?"
"Nothing!" Hiram wailed, shielding himself from the beast's angry glare. "Please, I'm sorry! I just need a place to stay!"
Quinn gripped the front of the man's clothes and lifted him off of the ground. "I'll give you a place to stay."
A day has passed since Rachel's father left for the fair, and Rachel found herself a little bit lonely. While yes, she had the companionship of her books, it was not the same as speaking to her father. And not to mention Finn was insistent in wanting to marry her. What about what she wanted? Hell would have to freeze over before she would decide to marry someone so boorish and disgusting like Finn.
With a huff, Rachel locked the door, knowing that Finn was out there, waiting for her. She was relieved for the safety precautions her father equipped all over the house. It made avoiding Finn so much easier.
Rachel slipped to the back door to feed the chickens, smoothing out their feathers with a smile. The sun was about to set, and the field beyond their house was her peaceful place. Tucking a book underneath her arm, she walked along the field of tall grass, dandelion tufts billowing and floating in the air around her. She fell on the soft ground and was about to open her book when she heard the familiar neighing of Philippe, her father's horse.
True enough, Rachel saw the chestnut brown coat of Philippe as he lumbered up to her. "Philippe, what is it? Where's father?" She gasped, Philippe neighing and tugging at her dress with his teeth. "Is he safe? What happened?" Rachel demanded, as if the horse could offer answers. But she knew better. Cupping the horse's jaw, she scratched underneath his chin to calm him down. "Take me to him, please."