The Beauty in the Beast
Chapter 1
Robin stood outside of his favorite bookstore, nervously fingering the wallet in his pocket. He knew he shouldn't be going into the book shop; he'd already bought three new books this week that he just had to read but had yet to pick up. But the books called to him, onyx ink and cream-colored pages speaking of worlds unknown to him that he just had to explore for himself- and take his son Roland along for the adventure, if the book was age-appropriate for a four-year-old.
The two often went into Sherwood Forest to read, blanket, snacks, and drinks in tow, but Robin never ventured very far into the forest with his son, due to the bears and other predators that lurked in the forest's depths. He often wondered what other secrets the woods were hiding, all the while doubting he would ever find out. He often dreamed of adventure, but the only adventure in Nottingham rested in the pages of his precious books.
Shaking himself out of his reverie- an occurrence that happened far more frequently than he'd care to admit- and breathing deeply, he started to walk away, then turned back and wrenched the door open, the bell over the doorframe letting the owner know that a new customer- or rather, a very familiar one, as Robin frequented this bookshop on an almost daily basis- had entered.
Inside, the store was quiet, a reader's only distraction from the books that filled every shelf the soft music that was being played by a pianist in the far corner of the shop. Robin began browsing the shelves, reading the back cover and inside flap of this book and that, before he spotted the proprietor, a petite woman in her thirties named Belle French who had an Australian accent, long, curly brown hair, and blue eyes, sitting on one of the shop's many comfortable pieces of furniture reading.
He smiled to himself. Like him, Belle was a self-professed bookaholic who could never put down a good book, whether it was a psychological thriller or children's book meant for someone a quarter of her age. This meant that no matter what book she was reading, she was always oblivious to everything around her. She likely hadn't heard Robin enter her shop, and he decided to take advantage of that and have a little fun.
He approached her from behind, taking advantage of her stupor to sneak up behind her. When he had gotten close enough, he put his hands on both of her shoulders, leaned in, close to her ear, and said, "Boo."
"Robin!" Belle yelled, turning around so fast that Robin didn't have time to back away, so the tips of her hair brushed Robin's nostrils. "Why would you do something like that?! You of all people know what it's like to get lost in a good book, and this one's really good, I haven't been able to put it down since I started reading it after I opened the shop this morning."
"You know I know what that's like, which is why I'm here," Robin reminded her. "I want a new book. Do you have any recommendations for me?"
"You were just here yesterday when my new shipment came in, so I haven't gotten anything new since then, and I only just finished putting those books on the shelves late last night," Belle reminded him with a laugh. The fingers of one hand cupped her chin as she pondered. "Wait, I do have something that was at the bottom of a box in that last order I think might spark your interest… Follow me."
She stood, walking to the back of the store as Robin followed. They ended up in the section Belle reserved for myths and legends, a part of the store that Robin sometimes visited, but not frequently enough for him to think that Belle would lead him here when he asked for a new book. "What did you get that I would like that can be found here?" he asked her.
She scanned the shelves, then finally found the book she wanted, handing it over for him to inspect.
His eyes were immediately captivated by the picture of the woman on the front cover. She had long ebony hair that was swept up into an elaborate updo. Her dress was a vibrant sapphire, in a style that drew his attention to her slender waist and full, exquisite red lips. The title read The Beast in the Beauty, and he saw that the slim book was written by Isaac Heller.
"What is this?" he breathed, intrigued. He opened the front cover and read the description on the left-hand side:
Legend has it that the towering trees of Sherwood Forest conceal a dark secret. For deep in the forest, it is said that a hidden castle stands, keeping its dark secrets hidden from the world.
A monster is said to live in the castle, feasting on the hearts of all who dare to enter its walls. The monster prowls about the forest at night, visiting towns to rip out villagers' hearts, devouring them until there is nothing left.
But can this beautiful woman really be a monster? What is her true story? Read the pages of this book to judge for yourself if this is the tale of a beauty or a beast.
"Interesting…" Robin said, closing the book, but not relinquishing it back to Belle.
Belle nodded in agreement. "It's a local legend, you haven't heard of it?"
"Some bits and pieces of the tale, yes," Robin admitted. 'But you know the people of this town, and you know me. They gossip about anything and everything, while I like to keep to myself and not judge a book by its cover, literally or otherwise. Give me a day with Roland or-" he got choked up for a second as he remembered the love of his life, "even better, a chance to see my Marian again, over time listening to those gossipmongers spin tall tales any day. So every time I've started to hear the story, I've tuned it out."
"And you've only been living here since a year before Roland was born, so you weren't here when these events supposedly happened a decade ago," Belle pointed out. "Neither was I, I came here just after they occurred. But maybe the pages of this book contain more truth than those rumors."
"Perhaps," Robin mused, looking again at the beautiful woman on the cover. She seemed so sad to Robin, like something had happened to turn her into the "beast" that Heller described. Whatever it took, he was going to uncover the truth.
He glanced at the darkening sky through the window. "Oh, look what time it is, I've got to run. How much do I owe you?"
Belle peered up at him, cocking her head to the side. "You know what, this one's on me," she said. "You're really into this, aren't you?"
"I am," Robin confirmed, his eyes transfixed once more on the stunningly beautiful face of the woman on the cover of the book. "I want to know the truth of her story, to know who this woman really is. Because somehow, I suspect that there's so much more to her than meets the eye, or even than the legend suggests."
"Then take it," Belle told him gently, placing her hand on top of the fingers that were still clutching the book like a lifeline. "And find out the truth, so we can put an end to those scoundrels' lies."
Robin thanked her, then walked out of the shop, his eyes never leaving the image of the woman on the cover of the book Belle had just given him. He glanced back just long enough to see Belle watching him, an enigmatic smile on her lips.
He was so consumed by his own thoughts that he ran into someone walking on the street. The book that had monopolized his attention ever since he had caught sight of the cover fell into the puddle at his feet, splattering mud on his jacket and the emerald skirt of the woman he had collided with.
Robin groaned inwardly. He was sure he knew who that skirt belonged to.
Sure enough, he looked up to see bright red curls and met the icy blue eyes, so much colder than Belle's, of Zelena Greene. They had been in the same year in the village school, and when Robin had moved away, then returned to the village to start a family, Zelena had set her sights on him, attentions that Robin had never asked for. Zelena had always been conceited, vain to the point of embarrassment, and he had never wanted anything to do with her, as children or adults.
"Robbie!" she said excitedly. "Fancy seeing you here!"
He groaned, not bothering to hide his annoyance. "Zelena, how many times do I have to tell you that I hate, and I truly do mean hate, being called 'Robbie'?"
"Oh, I think a few more should do the trick," Zelena purred as she attempted to loop her arm through his.
"Zelena, what will it take for you to leave me alone?" an exasperated Robin asked desperately, backing away from her.
"Oh, nothing too complicated, just have dinner with me," Zelena told him dismissively. "Just don't bring any of those ridiculous books you're always reading- your attention should be focused on me, and only me. And then that dinner will turn into two, three, then we'll get engaged and married, have beautiful daughters who look just like me…"
"Zelena, I'm going to stop you right there," Robin interrupted her. "How many times do I have to tell you that I don't want to have dinner with you, let alone marry you?"
"But Robbie, any man would love to be in your shoes," Zelena protested. "Picture it: you and me cuddled up by a fire, you giving me a pedicure after you've served me dinner, me lounging after a hard day of being- well, the gorgeous creature standing here before you-"
"ENOUGH!" Robin shouted, finally unable to stand being in Zelena's presence any longer. "None of those things will ever happen. You might find those things someday," he glanced down at the woman on the cover of The Beast in the Beauty. "But I can promise you that it will never, I repeat: never, happen with me!"
He sidestepped her, picked up The Beast in the Beauty and continued to walk home.
"You really should go see Doctor Hopper!" Zelena shouted after him, running to try to catch up to his long strides. "It's unhealthy, the number of books you read and the amount of time you spend reading them. You need a healthy dose of reality, and reality starts with a life with me!"
Robin groaned, quickening his pace until her voice faded into the distance. As he walked, he looked down at the book's cover, the picture of the woman now blurred by mud from when he had run into Zelena. He couldn't stand to see mud smearing that beautiful dress, clouding those piercing brown eyes that held so much mystery and sadness that he wanted to soothe.
When he arrived at his family's cottage, his four-year-old son Roland ran out to meet him. "Papa, Papa, come see what I made today!" He grabbed Robin's hand, dragging him to their backyard, which led right into the beginnings of Sherwood Forest.
Near the forest's edge- too close for Robin's comfort, considering this meant that his young son had been this close to the forest on his own- lay a little house. Sticks, twigs and leaves had been constructed to form a little hut no bigger than a caterpillar. Roland proudly showed his father the windows and doors he had inserted so that whatever creature lived in the house had a place to live that he declared was "just as good as our house, Papa!"
"Indeed, it is," Robin praised the child, kneeling to take in the details of the hut more carefully. It never ceased to amaze him how much creativity and imagination his son had, or how kindhearted he was. While only one of those things could be somewhat attributed to him, he had inherited both creativity and kindness from his mother, who had had both in spades. She had been the one to decorate their little cottage, using what resources they had to place a blanket here, a painting there, to turn their house into a home. By the time she was done, it felt more like a home than Robin had thought would be possible after only a day's work.
His heart ached. Now what had been a fun moment shared with his son was soured, darkened by memories of his late wife. Roland shared her dark hair, eyes, and complexion, and had only his dimples as physical proof that he was his father's son.
"Papa, I'm hungry," Roland complained, tugging on his father's sleeve.
"All right, let's go get the hungry builder something to eat!" Robin replied, picking his son up and setting him on his shoulders before walking back inside. "I bet Mummum has cooked something delicious for us for dinner."
His mother, Ryleigh Locksley, met them at the entrance to their cottage. While she shared Robin's blue eyes, she had auburn hair that was finally interwoven with strands of grey, her age something that wasn't easily noticeable via a cursory glance.
"I see the busy beaver has found his father," she said with a fond smile.
"Indeed," Robin answered. "What delectable dish have you prepared for us this evening?"
"Why don't you come in and find out?" she replied. Roland and Robin followed her inside the cottage.
After a dinner of soup and helping his son bathe, Roland asked for Robin to tell him a bedtime story. He pointed to The Beast in the Beauty. "Papa, read that one to me! Please? She's pretty!"
Robin chuckled. Apparently his son had the same taste in women as he did, even at four years old. "I don't know, Roland, that might be a story for when you're older," Robin told his son hesitantly. "How about you let me read it first, then if I think it's not too scary, we can read it together?"
"Yes, Papa," Roland readily agreed.
Once his son was tucked in, Robin sat by the fire and stared for a moment at the cover of the book Belle had given him earlier that day. He was eager to learn this mysterious woman's story, to decide for himself whether those mesmerizing features belonged to the beast everyone thought she was, or if she was more beautiful inside and out than any of the villagers of Nottingham ever gave her credit for.
With those thoughts, he opened the book and began to read.
Not many miles away in the depths of Sherwood Forest, Regina paced the halls of her castle, the wind howling and blowing around her through the gaping holes in the ceiling. The burns she had acquired a decade previously still haunted her, by their presence if no longer by the physical pain. They were a constant reminder of her grief and the events that had led her to roaming the halls of a dilapidated castle, as was the portrait that hung in front of her.
She reached out, her claws scraping the portrait, but leaving its focus intact. As much as she despised this reminder of her pain, she couldn't bear to bring any harm to two of the five people it portrayed, even if it was only their images and she had brought so much grief to others' lives, including the remaining three people in the painting.
Roaring with a mixture of frustration, grief, and anger, she turned and walked briskly away, leaving the portrait that was a constant reminder of what had been and what might have been behind her where it belonged.
prompt 40: Confessions of a Shopaholic AU: but Regina/or Robin is a hoarder of books instead of clothes, & prompt 146: Regina's past haunts her