A/N: This is a spin-off/companion piece to 'Once Upon A Gilmore', though you don't have to read that for this to make sense. Maybe saying this makes sense at all is pushing it since it is a fairytale version of Gilmore Girls events, but anywho, I'm sure somebody will read it and think it's cool. I certainly enjoyed writing about Paris for a change :)
Disclaimer: All recognisable Gilmore Girls characters belong to Amy Sherman-Palladino and other folks who aren't me.
The Beauty of the Beast
Once upon a time, long ago, there was a lady of the court and her name was Paris. She had been raised in luxury, in privilege and wonder, and yet she was unhappy. Lord and Lady Geller had a loveless marriage, and their daughter felt the lack of affection more than anyone. She did all she could to be noticed by her parents, to be revered and adored. Any lesson she could learn was studied to the point of perfection. By the age of sixteen she could dance like a professional, sing like a bird, speak seven languages, and defend herself with a fencing blade. She read every book in the library, studied harder than most young men she knew, and assisted in all charitable efforts. Model daughter, model human being in so many ways, Paris found herself growing frustrated and more hungry for attention than was healthy. When still her mother and father seemed to pay no mind to her efforts, she turned to others for support.
Young ladies of her age and class were to marry well, but the one area of life in which the Lady Paris did not do well was with men. A sparring match was easily won, be it verbal or by the sword, but no man who caught the harsh side of Paris' tongue or her blade desired to marry her. As time moved on, Paris found she similarly did not wish to marry any man she met either. She waited for one who was worthy and when finally a prince came forward to offer his hand, she felt willing and able to accept.
Prince James was Paris' equal in intelligence and looks, and actually her better in social status and rank. It would be quite the match, and yet the wedding day would never come. Though the lady thought much of the man, her heart was not in their relationship. Truly, she held another in higher esteem, a lord of the court who wrote books of great majesty and lectured to anyone who would listen with such wisdom as Lady Paris could not resist.
Though still tied to her engagement and planning to go through with the wedding for the sake of family, tradition, security, and perhaps finally her parents affection, the Lady Paris pursued the learned man called Fleming. It was in disgrace that she was discovered, her secret revealed in the cruellest of manners. Caught inflagrante by a maid of the house, the girl would not, could not keep the secret she uncovered. Within the hour, Lady Paris' conduct was known and she was shunned, set to be punished in all possible ways.
The Gellars disowned their tragic daughter, an act considered unfair even by those who similarly shunned Paris, for all knew that she had only ever sought love and affection from any source that would provide it. Her parents neglect had driven her to her so-called crimes, and yet no-one spoke of it, none stood up for the fallen woman.
Though Paris would say she was condemned only for falling in love, she knew very well the wrong she had done. To give her hand to one man and yet desire another and act on those impulses was her greatest crime. Fleming disappeared from her life, fleeing from disgrace to another land where he might be reinvented and once again revered. Lady Paris was left to face the wrath of many.
Prince James took all with grace and diplomacy, though his heart was thoroughly broken. It was his family that would see the lady who wounded him punished beyond measure, and so they summoned a witch to cast a curse.
Walking in the forest alone with her thoughts, the Lady Paris was struck by a blinding light and a pain that contorted her body in every way. She felt herself transport, carried away from the safety of a world she knew to a dark place. Her eyes saw nothing, her body knew only tortuous agonies, but in her mind a voice echoed, the voice of the witch.
'She who has caused such pain and heartbreak, she who cares not for her crimes. She must now live with the pain of her choices, doomed to the dark for all time.'
The mantra was repeated so many times and so cruelly, Paris quite lost count and all sense of the words. She awoke on the cold stone floor or a dark room she had never seen before, the door seemingly bolted and not a window to shed the least light into the place.
Though the pain was gone from her body, the dull ache of what went before remained still. With determination not to be overcome, the lady dragged herself to unsteady feet and fell upon the door, wrenching at it with all her might. It was not locked and gave way all too easily, but the moment the slightest glimpse of sunlight became visible, Paris was forced to shy away.
Her skin burned and bubbled at the merest warmth of the sun. The evil words she had heard echoing in her mind came back to Lady Paris and she knew instinctively what had occurred. Forever she was cursed to live here alone in the dark, with no hope of escape or any kind of happily ever after. She was doomed.
In the years that followed, rumour spread. The disappearance of Lady Paris was rarely blamed on a witch's curse, for no-one but Prince James' parents, the king and queen, knew of it. Some said she had followed Fleming to wherever he had gone. Others surmised she had ended her own life in the darkness of her own shame. The story that prevailed in the end was somewhat different.
In the wake of her loss, some said it was Lord and Lady Gellar that perpetuated the rumour their daughter had been taken, either captured or killed by a dreaded Beast that called the Dark Castle home. No-one knew the only resident of that terrible place was the lady herself. She was the only beast to call the Dark Castle home.
Year upon year passed, and no-one dared enter the Dark Castle. In this time, Paris had learnt much. She could leave the room to which she had once been confined but only at night when there was no chance of the sun rays finding her. Even then she must move carefully for even the light of the moon could and would harm her. She filled her time with study, as she had for so long before, extending her mind not only in literature, but in magicks. Should she ever receive visitors, she would be armed enough. At first, she had hoped perhaps one day to stumble upon a cure for her dreaded curse. Though it came to pass that Lady Paris did find a text that gave the answer, she held no hope of ever receiving it. True Love's Kiss was nothing that would ever be given to a woman known to all as Beast.
At length, a man came to the Dark Castle. Though he was full of True Love and devoted to his cause, he did not seek Paris to aid her, but for her to be of assistance to him. Rumour had spread that the Beast knew the ways of magicks and might help a would-be hero in his quest to save his love, a Princess from the kingdom of Hartford.
Lady Paris revealed herself to Jess only when he had proven worthy, and she gave him the answer that he was looking for. He was thankful, but they both knew from the very beginning that he would not save her. Though he had True Love in his heart, that heart belonged to another, and Paris had no wish to change such a thing. The two had discovered in each other a friend to be cherished in memories alone, and that was all.
Though the truth of the Beast's identity was not widely known still, since Jess revealed her secret to few and all kept it hidden, rumour did spread that the creature belonging to the Dark Castle could not be all bad. Certainly it was clear that said Beast had granted a favour to Jess, allowing him the answer he needed to free his love of her curse.
It was curiousity that brought the next visitor to Paris' darkened door. Though he had never been considered brave nor worthy of any woman he had previously desired, Doyle was a good man, with a good , true heart. He came to discover the truth of the Dark Castle and its Beast, to record the tale of this place and perhaps even make his fortune in the publishing of such a story.
The Beast threw every trick, every illusion into the poor man's path. She tested his wit and knowledge more than his physical strength, and his resilience of character most of all. In his final trial, she dared him to run through the flames if he truly wanted to know her identity. It was a test that Jess had passed for the sake of true love. Paris suspected curiosity was not a strong enough emotion to incite the same kind of daring, and Doyle proved her right.
In strangled tones he declared her insane and as much a Beast as any man had ever known. Paris laughed, the painful sound echoing throughout the house, and then just as easily she cried. In that moment of pure grief, she threw upon Doyle all the magic she possessed, urging him out of her home that was in fact her prison, and yet he refused to leave.
It was hours before the onslaught was over, the vicious storms and rains of arrows and fire that took their toll on the building as well as the one man who would dare to stand his ground. He knew some truth of the Beast now, that no matter what, she had feelings, emotions. It was enough to make him care, to not run away.
She called him a fool, the enigma of a man with more stupidity in his self than should ever fit in such a small stature. Her words wounded him no more than her other attempts to do him harm, for he had suffered worse at the hands of others. Doyle knew pain and suffering, and such he told Paris through stone walls and bolted doors. Never once in the week that followed did he see her face or know her form, but in talking, fighting, and talking again, he felt he knew her, felt she knew him too. Before long she was defeated by his persistence, his refusal to leave even when she threatened to end his days, for she knew ways enough to do so.
"And yet I'm still here, still standing," he challenged her. "You are all-powerful and yet you let me live. I know why - you love me."
Her laughter echoed in the rafters as it had so many times before.
"Beasts do not love," she told him harshly - Doyle did not flinch.
"You are no Beast," he dared to tell her. "You have suffered much, it has made you bitter, but you are human enough in your soul, even though you may not look as you once did or feel as you once could. You love me, I am certain of that, or I would not still be alive, and though I know not how it happened, I love you in return."
There was silence. Lady Paris had never heard such a declaration as this, and though her mind knew he could not mean such things, her heart wished to believe. There was only one way to be sure of Doyle's feelings or of her own of which she was now so very uncertain.
"The challenge stands as it ever did before," she told him, striking up the fireplace with flames aplenty. "If you seek to know me, to love me as you claim, you know what you must do. Else turn and leave forever, little man, but be warned. The light of the fire is not the same as the light of the sun. One leads to freedom, the other to eternal darkness... with me."
Lady Paris had barely reached the end of her warning before she realised the choice had been made, the deed done. Doyle came through the fire, arms shielding his face from the flames, and clothes blackened by ashes. He stood before her then, dropped his arms to his sides, took in the sight of her, and then he smiled.
"A lifetime with you could never be in darkness," he told her with a smile so bright it was positively blinding to a woman who had seen no sun for too many years. "You shall be all the light I ever need."
In a moment he was upon her, arms around her body, dipping her low so he might lay his lips upon hers. The rush of power that came over the two in such a moment could not be only the passion which seemed to envelop them. Paris knew that magic was at work here, that this was indeed the True Love's Kiss she had waited for all her life, even before she had been cursed.
"Paris?" said Doyle when they finally parted, her eyes blinking madly in the candlelight.
"You saved me," she declared. "I... I never thought anyone would want to, or that there would ever be a man that I could want to save me."
In the moments that followed it was she that kissed him, her prince and hero, though Doyle was of no rank and fortune. Paris did not care, for she had long since resigned her right to be called a lady. Somehow, in spite of all the truths she had imparted, all the awful magicks she had brought down upon him, Doyle had managed to find beauty in a beast, helping Paris to find the goodness within herself.
The Dark Castle remained in name but an incredible light was to be found within from that day forth. Paris and Doyle lived under the glow of the sun, the silver of the moon, and in the warmth and glory of each other's love. In short, they lived happily ever after. Well, did you really expect anything else?
The End