Welcome to Belle - Thug Life where Belle is a master of the sword and making her own adventures!
DISCALIMER: I do not own the rights to Beauty and the Beast or any of the characters from the original or updated versions.
Please enjoy this parody! It's not meant to be a serious piece, just something to make you laugh.
Belle had been reading books her entire life. And, boy, you could learn some things between those covers. Her particular favourite had been entitled 'Mastery of the Sword', which most people in Rouge Mount had assumed was a work of fiction, it did have a gleaming knight in armour on the front. But when she had a spare minute, Belle had practiced her swings and lunges, before moving on to much bloodier, violent titles (and moves). In fact, she'd had to start ordering those books in secret as the people in the nearby town had started whispering about her obsession with learning how to defend herself. But when she turned sixteen, her beloved father (who encouraged Belle to learn how to fight) decided that they needed to move away from their home town in order to make sure that Belle could find a husband, without neighbours sticking their noses in where they weren't required. Not that Belle had any desire to find a husband.
Belcastel Village offered such a hideout.
But to settle her fathers mind, she changed her style and picked books that really were novels for once (she found that she actually quite enjoyed them) but she made sure that her weekly subscription to Crowning Tips (it had an entire section on decorating your sword pommel) made its way to their new home. She'd only been there for a few mere hours before Gaston discovered her. Unfortunately for Gaston, Belle needed more of a real man, not some poncey, prancey twat whose only achievement in life had been to graduate to eating five dozen eggs each morning instead of four.
It was one of those mornings, where the bookstore still didn't have any new titles, where the villagers still kept their distance and when her father's (Maurice) inventions still belched smoke, that Belle awoke with a feeling that today was going to be the start of a new life for them. Although she wasn't too sure what had changed, as nothing had yet.
She dressed as the sun rose into the sky and snuck out of the village into the countryside where she could run free, dreaming of battles and sweat-drenched men who put their lives on the line without thinking about it.
Back at home she stretched and practiced her archery as well as sword-fighting – she'd only ever fought with her father for real, but she wanted to be ready when the time came, as she was sure it would eventually. As Belle washed and got ready for the new day, she looked into the far distance, to the castle that stood there with the Prince ensconced inside. The towns and villages that surrounded the castle were all under fealty to the Prince, but it was rumoured that he was a man of few words and a ferocious temper. Belle couldn't care for Gaston and his prissy ways, but neither could she summon anything but distaste for a man who growled and demanded at every turn.
Winding her way down the path into town with her basket swinging from her arm, Belle knew she looked the picture of elegance. Maurice had been clear that she needed to present a good front if she were eager for a future that held stability and in truth, it wasn't that she didn't want a family. At some point. In the far distant future. She was only eighteen for god's sake.
Walking through the marketplace was always Belle's least favourite part of the day. She greeted each person that spoke to her; Jennifer at the Bakers, George with the Fruit and Veg . . . But everyone watched her like a hawk (it had been the same way since she and her father had moved there) and then discussed her behind her back. She wasn't just a pretty face, she was a hell of a lot more and by the time she was done, Belle would prove it to them. Perhaps it was time to pull a 'Mulan' and run away to the army disguised as a boy. But that would mean leaving her father behind, and it tugged at her heart to think of him all alone. How he had managed when she had been just a girl, she didn't know and probably never would.
Her last stop was at the bookstore with Monsieur Jackaby, who always kept the newest adventure books just for her. He was the only person in the town, apart from her father, who didn't judge her for wanting more than convention and society allowed. But she was disappointed, nothing new had come in and nothing new was expected for a least a week, more than likely there wouldn't be anything in for a month. Picking up one of her favourites, Belle went to chat with Jackaby who promptly informed her that she had previously borrowed that same book five times in the last month.
'It's one of my favourites! The adventure and the romance, what more could a girl ask for!' She exclaimed.
'Then, my dear, it is all yours.' Monsieur Jackaby told her. 'The princess in the book actually reminds me of you, so it is a pleasure to give it to you.'
Belle smiled at him, amused. She identified with the prince far more than the princess, but she didn't tell Jackaby that. 'Why, thank you! I shall be certain to treasure it!'
She didn't allow the village people to get on her nerves again as she wandered back through the marketplace and stuck her nose straight into her new book. She was so engrossed that she didn't notice that Gaston was following her back to the house she shared with her father. Had she realised, things may have turned out quite differently.
She was just getting to the part where the Prince chopped off the head of a criminal that a knock at the door sounded. Belle looked up, annoyed, that part was the best bit and she hated to have started it and then be stopped. Scowling at the door she hoped whoever it was would go away.
'Oh, Belle! I know you're in there!'
Gaston. She should have known. That was the second time this week alone. How she wished she could chop his head off. Why couldn't he go and find some girl in the town who simpered over him? Couldn't he understand that no, meant no? That she wasn't interested, even in the smallest amount.
Her hand twitched towards one of the various knives she kept on her person, before she stomped over to the door.
'Hello, Gaston. What are you doing here.' She didn't phrase it as a question, she didn't want him coming in. He pushed past her anyway. Belle had a momentary daydream where she sliced him up with her knives and then pushed it aside, appearances were everything. She didn't bother to shut the door as she wanted Gaston gone as soon as possible.
'You and I,' he started as he glanced back at her, unperturbed by her scowl. 'Would be a match made in heaven. You have the beauty, I have the strength and intelligence.'
I could whip your arse blindfolded, Belle thought.
'You could give me fine young strapping boys, massage my feet, cook my dinner and I would give you a home to clean.'
Belle drew in a breath angrily. She would not stand being talked to in that way. She wasn't a piece of meat at the market, she was a living, breathing woman with dreams of her own.
Gaston went on without noticing her sharp intake of breath. 'Yes, we will be very well suited and you would be the luckiest woman in all of France with me as your husband. Let's see, perhaps we could be married as soon as August? That's a little over a month away, just time for the . . .'
Belle cut him off, anger flushing her cheeks. 'You come in here and tell me that I would be happy living as your plaything? How dare you insult me in such a fashion! Let me tell you now, Gaston, so that you are aware, I could never be satisfied as your wife, you cannot give me what I want and you will never be able to provide it. Leave this house.'
To her mounting frustration, Gaston laughed. 'Ah, Belle, you are so funny. You will do quite nicely as my wife.'
'You, Gaston, are not man enough for me and never will be.' And with that Belle strode to the door and opened it wider. 'Leave.' She ordered, anger sharpening her tone.
Gaston's smile slid off his face and he stalked past her. 'You mark my words,' he started as she started to shut the door. 'There will be consequences for your actions.' Belle shut the door in his face, undisturbed by his threat and strode out the back of the house where she began to chop at the fire wood, destroying one of her best dresses in the process. It was therapeutic, she reasoned.
During the rest of the morning and well into the afternoon her mood continued to darken and with the noises coming from her father's inventing shed, she guessed things weren't going well down there either. Changing into a pair of trews that she had made for herself and discarding the dress she had ruined, she began preparing an evening meal for herself and her father. If she didn't make sure he ate, he often forgot entirely, in fact she was sure he hadn't yet eaten today.
But he surprised her by coming up to the house without her having to fetch him, a smile stretched over his face and hugged her even though he was covered in oil.
'She's working!' He cried. 'My machine, she's ready!' Maurice danced her around the kitchen until she started laughing and her foul mood began to fade. 'There's a fair tomorrow, not far from here. If we load her up tonight, I could take her in the morning and by the evening, we'll have a contract and money up to our ears!'
'Oh, papa! You must go! You must, you must!' Maurice twirled her around the kitchen once again. 'To think, you could be a famous inventor in a few short hours.' Together they laughed until she remembered the meat that was currently burning over the fire. They chatted excitedly for the rest of the evening and Belle forgot all about Gaston's proposal as they loaded up Maurice's invention into the buggy cart.
The following morning, Belle watched as her father hitched Philippe the horse to the buggy cart and begin the long journey to the fair in one of the towns on the other side of the castle. He would make it there by early afternoon – if he didn't get lost in the forest surrounding the castle – and be on his way home the following evening. Belle wasn't worried about being left home alone, she had lots of new moves to practice and, while Maurice had banned her from practicing too close to the house, she was planning on heading over the hill and through the woods that bordered the south of the village.