Disclaimer: Any recognizable characters/themes most likely belong to either JK Rowling or Angela Carter.
Summary: Completely AU! A story inspired by (but only slightly similar to) Angela Carter's short story 'The Tiger's Bride'.
Part 1- He Lost to a Beast
Everyone knew the Master of the castle possessed more riches than any one being could ever hope to use.
It was for this fact alone that the two figures now stood outside the dark, ominous castle— in the middle of winter—with nothing more than a pack of cards and a rucksack filled with a small fortune.
The figure closest to the door, a large, portly man with rosy cheeks and an eager smile on his round face, raised his large fist to the door and banged hard twice.
When no movement was heard, the man turned to look at his companion.
The young man was a significantly smaller being than himself; he was, without a doubt, the larger man's opposite in every way imaginable. That thought did not seem to upset the man. After smiling encouragingly at his companion, he turned back to knock once more.
As he raised his grubby fist, ready to pound considerably harder this time (for he was intent on getting inside) the door swung open silently and revealed the elegant, impressive entrance hall of the castle.
Licking his lips, the man stepped inside quickly, not looking back to see the uncertain expression on the young man's face.
The large man gazed around the room, his eyes excitedly taking in all the expensive possessions—crystal chandeliers, flawless paintings, golden candelabra—and further inside, at the foot of a large, marble staircase—a giant sculpture of a strong, handsome young man—his chin held high in a proud and haughty manner, his long hair tied back: the image of a gentleman.
The man was in quite a mind to load his rucksack with as many small, golden knick knacks he could fit in there when the sound of someone clearing his throat turned his attention to a doorway at his left.
"Can I help you?"
The voice came from a tall, thin man who, although he spoke clearly with what sounded like an English accent, appeared to be foreign.
"Forgive me—us—" the large man glanced back toward the main doorway where the younger man still stood. "For intruding. We have been staying in the village for awhile now. We have…heard things."
The man paused, a sudden bout of nervousness overcoming him; until the glimmer of a golden candelabrum caught his eye.
"I have a proposition for the Master of the house," he said confidently.
The foreign man, undoubtedly a servant, surveyed him with a look of distrust on his pale face.
"The Master does not like visitors."
The large man laughed; a wheezy chuckle that echoed in the large room.
"So I've heard. Apparently he is not one to turn down a challenge though," the man raised an eyebrow in question as he held up a deck of cards.
The servant hesitated for a moment, clearly unsure what his master would disapprove of more—disturbing his privacy by welcoming in the large man or turning away a chance at a challenging round of cards. His eyes flickered towards the figure waiting outside and he seemed to make up his mind in an instant.
"Follow me."
The portly man smiled his crooked, eager smile in delight and reached back to pull the young man inside.
They followed the servant up the grand staircase and through several corridors—all lavishly decorated. The castle was silent but for the sounds of their heavy, snow-covered boots hitting the marbled floor.
When they finally reached the tall double doors at the end of one of the many corridors, the servant turned to regard them once more.
"Wait here."
The servant entered the room and the door clicked shut softly behind him.
The older man turned to whisper to his companion.
"This is it, son. We're going to be rich again. I can feel it in my bones."
The young man said nothing but as soon as the doors swung open in invitation, he offered the man a small, worried smile in response.
The Master's study was larger than any one room they had ever seen.
It was a dark room—filled with luxurious black furniture made of leather and cherry wood. At the far end of the room there was a roaring fire from which came the only light in the study. Next to the fire was a leather chair in which sat a large, ominous figure whose face was completely concealed by the darkness.
Standing next to the chair was the tall, thin servant.
"Come closer," he instructed. "The Master wishes to see you."
The older man, spurred on by how he imagined the night would end, rushed forward to introduce himself.
"And who is the young man behind you?" the servant asked.
"Remus," he answered quickly. "My son. He will not disturb us while we play, I assure you."
A soft, growling sound came from the seated figure and the servant nodded almost imperceptibly in response.
"Very well. If you'll take a seat, Mr. Lupin," he indicated a large chair across from the other table. "It is time to begin."
The young man sat on the dark sofa, a sickening feeling in the pit of his stomach.
His father had not won more than two hands the entire evening and still he continued to play. The small fortune he and his father possessed was dwindling away and he felt helpless to stop it.
The two of them had travelled far to gamble their money away.
Some whispers coming from a dark alleyway had spoken of a Beast. A rich Beast. One who was neither liked nor disliked, not loved nor hunted—a Beast that merely existed.
The Beast would not show his face, or his hands, or any other bit of himself that suggested at his nature. He was a beast who loved his solitude and would only break it for the occasional challenge that a game of cards could provide.
His father had not needed to hear any more. John Lupin was exceptional at cards and convinced himself that this was an opportunity they could not miss out on.
They had trekked through the harsh winds and freezing snow; making their way to the beast's castle to rebuild their fortune.
His father, for all his flaws, loved him—that much he knew. So when he looked up at the sound of desperation tainting the older man's voice as he pleaded with the Beast and his servant for one more chance, one more hand, he could not explain why he suddenly felt worried.
The Beast sat up straighter in his chair. His entire body, including his hands, were covered by his long, black robe. The hood had been pulled up to conceal his face but the change in position, the slight straightening of his back, had allowed the light from the fire to hit his eyes.
The young man stifled a gasp. It was not so much that the sight scared him but he had not expected to see any part of the Beast and the fact that he had, gave him a small thrill.
The Beast's eyes were the most unusual shade of gray as they studied his father, contemplating whether or not to grant him his one request.
The gray eyes flicked towards him suddenly, lingered, then turned back to the older man.
He growled softly to his servant.
"The Master will allow you one more chance," the servant whispered. "If you win, he will double your fortune."
The older man smiled in delight.
"If you lose," he continued. "You must leave the castle immediately and never return."
The man's smile faltered only slightly.
"But," the servant continued. "your son must stay."
The man looked startled.
"You want Remus to stay here? But why?"
"Do you agree, Mr. Lupin?"
The man took a deep breath but did not look once towards his wide-eyed son.
"Yes, yes, I agree."
Remus did not know that his heart could beat so hard.
The fact that John Lupin lost to the Beast was only surprising to the man himself.
He looked imploringly at his son for forgiveness.
"Please," he begged the Beast. "One more chance."
The Beast growled softly but it was once again the servant who replied.
"You agreed, Mr. Lupin. It is time for you to go. I will arrange for a carriage to take you both back to the village where your son will collect his belongings and return to the castle immediately."
"Please," the man begged again. "My wife is dead. My fortune is gone. Remus is all I have left."
The Beast's growl was louder this time and in a flash he had stood—imposing and furious—and banged his covered paw hard on the table.
The drinks they had toppled over in his fury.
"You should not gamble with things you are not prepared to lose."
The Beast's voice was harsh and threatening—he had all but growled the words—and it left the old man in no doubt of the Beast's vicious nature.
The servant stepped forward again.
"It is time to go, Mr. Lupin," he insisted.
The man turned his small, beady eyes to his son. "Forgive me, Remus."
The fire lit up the boy's golden eyes and illuminated the betrayal he felt. The boy returned his father's gaze but merely shook his head as he turned to follow the servant out of the room.
His father had gambled him away like he was nothing more than a gold coin.
His father had lost him to a beast.
The goodbye was swift and almost non-existent.
His father had offered to hold the coach driver off so Remus could collect his belongings and run.
Remus merely shook his head once more.
One of them had to take responsibility for his father's actions and, as he helped lift his trunk onto the back of the carriage, he felt a twinge of pride that it would be him.
He had to be brave.
The ride back to the castle was almost unbearable though. He thanked his pride for keeping him still in his seat but he could not help imagining all of the horrible things that would happen to him once he returned to the castle.
He belonged to the Beast.
Would it want to hurt him? To hunt him? Would he be a servant? A companion? He knew the Beast loved his solitude so why did he allow—order—Remus to return?
He was startled out of his musings by the gruff voice of the driver.
"Alright back there?"
"Yes, thank you," he replied.
"You know you're the first person the Master has taken an interest in in a long time. You must be something special."
The young man swallowed hard but was unsure how to respond to that and remained quiet.
The driver did not appear to be offended as he looked back and studied him for a quick moment.
"You can't be more than twenty," he mumbled.
"Eighteen," he answered softly.
"Still," the driver said after he clicked his tongue. "Not far off the Master's age."
"What?" he asked before he could stop himself. "The way the villagers talked about him, I thought he couldn't be far off fifty."
"Oh no," the driver laughed. "I've known the Master since he was just a little one. No, no…it wasn't all that long ago that he was running around the castle terrorizing the poor maids."
Remus turned to stare out at the darkened woods as they edged closer to the looming castle.
"Here we are, sir," the driver stepped out onto the white, powdery snow and offered a hand to the young man. "If you'll just wait in the entrance hall, Lumiere will show you back to the study. I'll be sure your trunk makes it safely to your room."
The walk to the Beast's study was long and terrifying. It was well past midnight and the young man could not think of one reason why the Beast would need to see him so urgently.
Stepping into the dark room once more, he wondered if the Beast had even left his chair that evening.
The gray eyes were once again concealed by the hood of the robe and Remus felt an unexpected pang of disappointment.
The servant walked around the boy and crossed the room to take his place by his Master's side.
Remus remained close to the door, hesitant to step any further into the darkness without knowing the Beast's intentions.
"Come in closer, Remus," the servant's tone was gentler than when he had addressed the man's father. "The Master wishes to see you in the light."
He stepped forward slowly, the trepidation he felt at the situation showing through in his downcast eyes and shaking hands. He stopped a few feet from the Beast's chair.
This close he could see the gray, glittering eyes reflecting the firelight once more.
His heart sped up.
The servant nodded in approval and bent down so the Beast could whisper the next instructions in his ear.
Remus could not be sure if it was the fire casting shadows on the thin man's face or perhaps the heat of the room but he thought he could see a faint blush tinge the servant's cheeks as he straightened up.
"The Master w—," he paused to clear his throat and started again. "The Master does not wish to keep you here against your will. He has one demand."
The man's stomach tightened.
"If fulfilled," the servant continued. "You may return home to your father."
Remus struggled to maintain his slow, steady intake of breath. He could not bring himself to look into the gray eyes.
"The Master wishes you to remove your clothing."
Remus felt his hands resume their trembling against his will.
"You will stand before him, uncovered, until he bids you goodnight."
Remus hoped he could continue to keep his breathing under control.
"You will do this every night for one week—at the end of which, you will be free to go."
He bit his lip and mustered all of the courage he had to look into the Beast's haunting eyes.
He had expected bitterness…fury…triumph. But there was none. The gray eyes looked at him with a penetrating stare.
The Beast looked ashamed.
Remus felt anger well up inside of him—his fear momentarily forgotten.
"No," he whispered harshly.
The servant had the decency to look taken aback.
"No I will not bare myself to a Beast."
The Beast turned away from the golden eyes, his own gray orbs shutting tightly in shame.
"I cannot stop you from whatever it is you wish to do to me," he whispered angrily. "But I will not willingly humiliate myself in front of you."
The Beast stood up, towering over the boy, and for a moment Remus thought he might attack him, kill him, for not obeying. But the Beast merely stormed from the room, the tall oak doors slamming on their hinges as he violently exited the study.
Remus turned to find the servant studying him with narrowed eyes before grabbing his arm and leading him out of the room.
Remus was too dazed to argue.
The room he was led to was as luxurious and well-decorated as the rest of the castle.
The servant nodded at the young man's trunk—indicating that this was to be his room—and turned to go. With his back to Remus, he hesitated for a moment in the doorway.
"The Master did not wish to humiliate you," he said softly.
The servant was gone before Remus could respond.
The following day, Remus woke to the sun shining through his tall windows; its light reflecting on the white covers of his large bed.
He rubbed his eyes, the events of the previous evening leaving an unsettled, sickening feeling in the pit of his stomach. A flash of light to his left caused him to turn to the bedside table.
There was a small box wrapped in shiny, silver paper sitting atop the expensive wood; a folded piece of paper with the boy's name on it lying underneath.
He reached for it.
A gift from the Master.
He frowned at the note and carefully tore the paper from the box.
On silky, red fabric lay a silver clasp—the outline of a rose engrained into it.
The boy's frown deepened. He returned the small treasure to the box quickly and left it on the table as he crossed the room to the windows.
It was a lovely day. There was a new layer of snow covering the ground and Remus noticed the castle garden for the first time. The winter sunshine and the soft snow made it appear much less threatening than it had the night before. He wondered if the Beast ever roamed the grounds—or was walking perhaps too human an action? He looked past the garden and saw the sinister woods lurking at the edge of the perfectly trimmed hedge. Could that be where the Beast roamed?
A sharp knock pulled him from his thoughts.
The plump, round face of an older lady appeared behind the door and she smiled kindly at him.
"Good morning, dear," she greeted. "Did you sleep well?"
He could not bring himself to do more than shrug in response. He had slept well but something inside of him did not want anyone to know this small, irrelevant fact.
"How about a spot of breakfast and then a nice ride around the grounds on one of the Master's horses?" she offered.
He was in half a mind to refuse but his growling stomach betrayed him almost instantly at the mention of food.
"May I ride alone?" he asked softy, praying she did not catch the hopefulness in his voice.
She smiled again.
"Of course, dear. The Master will not wish to see you until the evening."
The boy's stomach twisted at the thought of seeing the Beast again but he obediently followed the elderly woman down the hall to the main entrance.
As they passed the sculpture of the handsome gentleman at the foot of the staircase, the boy felt a chill run down his back.
The rush of pleasure he felt was gone before he had time to analyze it.
The castle grounds were vast and beautiful.
The boy could not believe that one being could have so much land all to himself.
He guided the mare around the grounds once more before reluctantly turning back to the stables.
It was nearing dusk—the cold winter having stolen away many of his precious hours of daylight—and he knew it was time to return to the castle.
As the mare trekked across the snow covered path from which they'd come, it tossed its head merrily—no doubt pleased to be out on the grounds.
The change in its mood was so sudden that Remus had no time to think of what might have caused it.
The mare was spooked by something.
It had jumped back, rearing up on its hind legs, and was off in the opposite direction before Remus could even attempt to calm it.
He held on tightly as it sped across the grounds and headed straight into the darkening forest; helpless to slow it down.
The mare galloped and galloped until Remus felt his grip slipping and his backside quickly sliding off the saddle.
He fell to the ground harshly with a loud "oomph" and watched the mare gallop deeper into the forest until he could neither hear nor see her loud hooves.
He stood up warily and looked around the area to see if he could glimpse anything familiar that might lead him back to the castle.
He was surrounded by hundreds of snow covered pines—all held up by strong, thick trunks. He looked to the ground and saw the mare's hoof prints in the snow—pointing him in one direction. With a glance upwards at the quickly disappearing sunshine, he began his trek back towards the castle at a brisk pace.
He did not make it twenty steps before he heard the low, threatening growls on either side of him.
Wolves.
He turned to look at the one to his left, his breath quickening. The yellow eyes stared at him hungrily and the wolf licked its lips in anticipation of its evening meal.
It leapt forward suddenly, jaw open, and Remus had to duck to avoid the attack. He took off at a run—continuing in the same direction he had been going moments before.
The wolves were quick; spurred on by the hunger caused by cold, still winters.
It was only moments before he was surrounded by five large, growling animals again.
Remus looked around, desperately trying to find a way out.
As the largest wolf of the pack lunged at him once more he was sure the sharp teeth would pierce his skin in an instant and he braced himself for the pain.
Yet the teeth never came.
The wolf had been thrown roughly into one of the many trees around them. Remus turned to find a cloaked figure jumping down from a large, black horse and one by one throwing the angry wolves away from him.
The Beast must have thought he had tried to escape and come for him.
The wolves leapt at the figure and bit into his arms and legs with fury but the Beast was stronger and managed to continue throwing them off. It was not long until the pack retreated into the forest; their howls of anger echoing in the distance.
The Beast turned to face Remus and the boy watched in awe as he lifted the sleeve of his cloak to remove his gloves.
The tall figure reached out a roughened hand—a hand?—to touch Remus' cheek.
Where was the Beast?
The man's face was covered—all but his eyes—and Remus couldn't help but gasp when he saw the familiar gray orbs studying him hungrily.
The man took a deep, shuddering breath before stepping back and looking up at the sky.
A few more minutes and it would be dark.
He appeared to be debating something but, following a quick moment of hesitation, he stepped forward and grasped the boy—tossing him over his broad shoulder and mounting the stallion in one fluid motion.
Remus closed his eyes as they raced through the forest and back towards the castle, only vaguely aware of the blood that soaked his fingers as he grasped tightly onto his rescuer's arms.