As the summary says, this is an AU Percabeth story that takes the plot of the Beauty and the Beast.
Disclaimer: PJO belongs to Rick Riordan
Prologue- circa 1800 A.D.
The fair kingdom of Montauk had been long ruled by the benevolent King Poseidon and his lady, the giving Queen Amphitrite. The two had ruled the land for decades in peace, never seeming to age. They were loved by those whom they ruled, readily accepting to listen to their subjects with an open mind.
The couple had had a son, Prince Triton, years previously only to meet his unfortunate demise to the bubonic plague that had taken control of the region half a century before. The loss of the heir to the throne had put the entire kingdom in despair, struggling to comprehend what it would mean if they shalt lose their generous king. The king and queen had spent years trying to conceive a child but to no avail. The castle itself was in a state of gloom without the presence of a child.
One fine day, an old beggar woman cloaked in dirty rags approached their highnesses. Her ragged breath and stench gave her an aura of a vagabond. The rats' nest of a hair was covered by the hood which she had pulled over her head. Warts and moles covered her gaunt face. She opened her mouth to smile, revealing two lone teeth standing, "Your Majesties, if I may…"
She paused at this point, digging deep into her long, mouse-bitten cloak, pulling out an object. The queen glanced at the beggar lady in front of her with some curiosity. She had seen many destitute subjects before, but this woman was far beyond the realm of even being labeled poor.
The old woman proffered the object to the queen's hand before falling back down to a floor, her hunch prominent, "Milady, please accept this as a gift of your humble subject, June."
Queen Amphitrite held up the bright red pomegranate in her hand as though to examine it. She had never seen the likes of the fruit before, not quite sure whether to trust the old woman or not. Not knowing what to reply, she set it aside, bowing her head once at the witch-like lady, "Thank you."
The old lady cackled with glee and amusement, "My queen, do not take this gift lightly. The pomegranate is the symbol of fertility and marriage, my dear. And if I do recall, this gift is to help you. But do remember, as with all gifts, this too comes with deep sorrow."
With that one simple word, a bright flashed, revealing a tall, young beautiful woman in front of the couple. She stood boldly and confidently, a diadem atop her head. By her side, her hand stood stroking a peculiar bird, with its own unique crown like head and multicolored feathered tail. Within an instant, she had disappeared, leaving behind a single feather which appeared to have an eye like image at the top.
The king blinked in surprise, wondering if he had in fact imagined the whole scene, yet, there was proof right in the hands of his queen. To be honest, King Poseidon was frightened by the look on his wife's face.
She had once again picked up the fruit, holding it close to her mouth, pressing her lips against it. She stood in amazement, her face one of pure desire and greed as she opened her mouth to bite into it. He watched in astonishment as she deliberately took a bite, her lips and teeth immediately staining with a reddish hue.
The queen's hand paused momentarily. King Poseidon looked on at the scene in slow motion as the fruit fell gracefully from her hands rolling steadily down the throne stairs till it reached the bottom with a soft thud.
Little red jewels adorned the stairs from where the fruit had rolled. Upon closer examination, the seeds of the fruit resembled little beads of blood dotting the surface of the throne room. The king felt the air chill around him momentarily before he heard the sound or piercing shriek.
He turned back with fear in his eyes to find his queen slouched on her throne, her face a mask contorted in pain.
9 months later
"The queen has given birth," a joyous voice tempted across the streets of Montauk. The day had been declared a national holiday upon the announcement of the merry news. Peasants and nobles alike celebrated the day by drinking and eating sweetmeats prepared, courtesy of the castle.
The castle employees knew no bounds as they swept it top to bottom, making sure ever nick and corner had been dusted once over. Ms. Jackson, head of the kitchen, beamed with joy as she watched the spectacle. She was in charge of the feast to be prepared in honor of the child's birth. It was under her command that carts of drinks and meats had been taken to the common people.
The jubilant news had brought merriment to the castle, and it was seen throughout. The dark mood had been uplifted to reveal light. It was as though a cloak had been pulled off the household. Ms. Jackson held another special position; she was to be the child's wet nurse once the midwife had finished with the baby's delivery.
She remained in the center of the hall watching her close friend, Chiron, directing the servants in the meanwhile as she stood waiting to be called. Chiron was the 'maître de chateau', master of the castle. He was in charge of the servants along with Mr. Dionysus, the 'majordome', also another name for someone who oversaw the castle's daily affairs.
Sally Jackson noticed amidst the festivities a spectacle which would change her life. The pale face of the king as he rushed passed the hall in heavy stride. He beckoned to her with a long finger, ordering her to follow suit. She complied with her king's wishes as they ascended the flight of stairs leading to the queen's chamber.
"Your highness," she began with a questioning look. She had noted the droplets of sweat against her monarch's face, dulling his visage. He simply said nothing, giving her a sorrowful look as he knocked once on the wooden door at the top of the tower.
The door swung open to reveal a dimly lit room. A person stood standing in front of the red curtained windows, the light illuminating his outline.
"Your sire," he began, only to be cut off by a shrill voice coming from near the bed.
"She's dead! Your highness!" a young lady's voice shrieked with a blood-curling sound. "The child. The boy! He's a monster— a monster who has killed his mother." The midwife slumped to the ground in defeat as though it taken all her energy to speak.
The king was quick with his words as he directed his inquiries to the physician, "Is it true? Is my wife dead?!"
Dr. Apollo replied solemnly, not bothering to address the question, "I see dark days ahead." The king stared steadily out the curtained window, noting its bloodstained red color, the sounds of the weeping midwife remained in the background. "Perseus," he whispered.
16 years later
The king followed suit a year after the demise of his wife. Unable to tolerate the unbearable grief of her death, it had overcome him till he too was a mere shell. He had not been able to face his son, a mere baby, who had murdered his mother in birth. The king had shut himself off from the world, refusing to let any come near. In this sorrow he waded in, he died sleeping one night, vanishing from the world just like his wife.
The young prince did not feel the absence of his parents. His wet nurse, Sally Jackson, doted on him like he was her own child. Though the child was aloof, he always had a special soft corner for the woman who was like his mother. He would never openly admit to her that he felt comfort in her presence.
Without the company of other children his age, the child would spend time exploring the castle. Many of the servants had left after the king's death, but others remained under the supervision of Mr. Dionysus and Chiron. In fact, the entire kingdom ran under the two. Although not as prosperous as it once was, the daily lives of the people went on.
As he spent most of his time with adults, the child had given up on the idea of sharing and hospitality. To him, the world was at his feet, waiting to serve him. It wasn't that he was delusional, but to him, that's how life was.
The castle and its servants went out of its way to serve the next in heir to the throne. The older he got, the more arrogant he became, taking his hostile nature to new levels as he fired poor servants and peasants under his dominion without cause. He had become selfish and unkind from the spoiled nature he had been treated with. Ms. Jackson did her best to stop him, only to be shunned by him too.
Now, sixteen years later, the lad had blossomed into a handsome gentleman. He was the talk of the kingdom with his ebony locks and sea green eyes. He was said to have resembled his father, the late gentleman king. There was one sole exception. He had the disposition of a narcissist. He would be often times found locked in his tower staring at his portrait on the wall. The painting was adorned by a golden frame. The prince would spend several hours in front of his image, deeply immersed by it.
One stormy night, as the prince, yet again, stood in front of his picture, the bell rung, signaling the arrival of a visitor. The prince was not accustomed to people visiting his castle as many ties had been cut off from the remaining kingdoms.
He approached to open the door, only to be immediately blasted by the cold wind and rain hailing from outside. At the doorstep to the castle stood an old woman shivering in the rain. She had a sense of beauty for her age but the prince dismissed her with a sneer at the sight of an old, aging woman in front of him.
"Get out," he commanded.
The lady dug within her robes to pull out an olive branch, "My dear boy. I have nowhere else to go. Please offer me some shelter. Take this as a token of my gratitude."
"I do not need some old woman's gratitude. I have no connections with such people. Now, if you will do as I have ordered, do leave."
"My dear son, do not be deceived by appearances," she warned lightly. In response, Prince Perseus shut the large wooden door on her with a loud bang, leaving the old woman out in the freezing sleet.
As he turned to return, he found himself facing a stunning young woman. Her gorgeous face was hidden partially by the robes she was wearing. It was the same robe donned by the old lady he had just turned away.
A stray golden curl escaped from the hood of the cloak. As he looked up to face her, the eyes of the woman changed drastically, going through every which color of the rainbow. A scowl dominated the woman's otherwise soft features, scaring the prince with her threatening glower.
Prince Perseus immediately kneeled at the feet of the lady, begging for her forgiveness at having treated her so harshly.
"Prince Perseus of Montauk, I, Lady Aphrodite, shall not take this offence lightly. It is not only me to which you show no kindness, but to those who have nourished and cherished you. You have no love in your heart. I shall once more offer you this olive branch which shall blossom under your care. And for when you truly begin to love someone, the branch will slowly wilt each passing day. If you are unable to make the girl love you in return before the plant dies, you too will remain in this beast like form as will your servants."
With that statement, the woman's figure appeared to become larger with each passing moment, a bright light blinding the prince's sight momentarily. He shielded his eyes as the light dimmed, unable to comprehend the lady's words.
Two things remained behind: an olive branch and a shield of armor. The images in the back depicted a man with a sword in his hand. Not a man to be exact, but a half man and half bull.
Prince Perseus turned the shield over to find its shimmering silvery surface constantly seeming to move under the light. Slowly, the image began to focus with every passing second. An image that the prince could never forget as the armor reflected back his own visage.
He had become the monster on the front of his shield, the Minotaur. He had become…A beast.
Just an idea that sprung to my head. Like with all my stories, I will update when I have the chance/inspiration. Sometimes, my inspiration takes a vacation leaving me. I'll do my best to update if there is interest in the story.
The prologue is from the 19th century while the remainder of the story takes place in the 21st century.
So, read, fave, follow, and give some constructive criticism by reviewing down below.
Kudos to those who could guess who the first old lady was.
~Voldy