Once upon a time, in a faraway land, a young musician lived in an elegant home. Although he could want for nothing, the young man was arrogant, selfish and unkind, thinking of nothing but himself.

One winter's night, as he was focusing on yet another composition, there was a knock at the door.

Opening it up, the musician was stunned to see an elderly woman on the other side. Tearfully, she begged for shelter, from the cold winter nights, offering him a single rose as payment for his presumed kindness.

The musician sneered at the gift and turned the old woman away.

But she warned him, not to be deceived about appearances… because beauty is found within.

When the man dismissed her again, the old woman's ugliness melted away, to reveal a beautiful enchantress. The musician tried to beg for forgiveness, but it was too late… for she had seen that whilst he could compost songs revolving around love and kindness, he had none within.

As punishment, she transformed him a hideous creature, one that forced him to hide away from the outside world. Ashamed of his new urges and his monstrous form, the man concealed himself within his mansion, with a magic mirror as his only window to the outside world.

The rose she had offered, truly was a magical rose, one that had been enchanted to remain in bloom for ten years. Then the petals would start to fall. Once the last petal fell, the curse would be permanent, however, if he could learn to love another and earn their love in return before then, then the spell would be broken.

As the years passed, the man fell into despair and lost all hope.

And then she arrived.

It was in the tenth year of his forced imprisonment when the door to his home cautiously opened, a young female voice cautiously speaking up.

"Hello?" She called out, "I'm sorry to intrude, but I think I'm a little lost."

He watched from the shadows as the young woman removed her cloak and hung it up on the coat rack (he couldn't resist shaking it out… old habits and all that).

"Is anyone home? Is anyone awake?"

Believing that she would give up after a few moments of fruitless searching, he slunk back to his music room, hands hovering above the organ keys as he waited for the front door to open and shut once again.

He cursed when his fingers automatically drifted down, pressing the E key, the sound echoing throughout the room… and probably the entire house.

"Hello?"

Quickly, he darted back into the shadows just as the girl walked cautiously into the room, making her way over to the organ.

"Wow…" she whispered, lightly tracing her fingers across the keys, "… beautiful."

It was clear that she had noticed the lack of dust on the organ, as she glanced around and started to head back into the entrance hall. "Wherever you are… I'm just going to warm myself by the fire, okay?"

Whilst he didn't have food for her (his appetites had drifted to… other things), he did have some wine. When her back was turned, he quickly found a glass and poured her some of the rich white liquid, placing it on the table and blending back into the shadows again.

When the woman turned back around, she frowned at the sight of the chalice, one hand reaching out to grab it… only to pull it back.

"You should take a sip." He whispered, only just being heard, "It's good. I promise."

The woman nodded, taking a seat and sipping at the wine. "Thank you…" she raised her voice slightly, clearly not sure where he was, "I am sorry about this intrusion, but I was trying to find some peace from the village and I got lost and- "

"- the storm got worse." He whispered, "It's not likely to pass for quite a few hours yet. I will show you to your room."

"My room? Really I couldn't- "

"- it is late. You can't go back alone." Pulling his cloak over his head, he stepped slightly into the light, "You may anywhere except for the west wing."

"The West Wing?"

"It is forbidden!"

The woman seemed stunned by the sudden show of anger but got to her feet anyway and headed over. They walked for a few moments, up a flight of stairs and down a corridor, until they reached a large door.

"It's modest." The man muttered, "But it is comfortable."

"It's lovely, thank you." She then turned to him and held out a long, slender hand, "Belle."

There was a brief moment of hesitation, before he gently took the hand and shook it, "Forte." He whispered, before quickly backing away, "I will leave you to get settled."

….

Forte paced his small kitchen, pushing down the urge to maim… hurt… kill.

"I shouldn't make her dinner…" he muttered to himself, "… she won't be here long. There should be no attachment." And then gentleman instincts that he thought he'd long forgotten came back to the surface, "No… dinner it is."

Slowly, he made his way back to his guests' room, hood still shielding his face as he knocked on the door, clearing his throat in the process. "I was hoping that I could invite you to dinner."

The door opened, and Belle smiled softly at him, "Dinner would be… lovely. Thank you."

"Good… I will call you when it's ready."

….

Belle sighed happily as she nodded her thanks to Forte, watching as he slunk back to the shadows. He hadn't eaten a thing, but almost seemed to be looking longingly at the food.

Finishing off her warm meal, she pushed herself away from the table and started to head back to her room… only for her natural curiosity to take a hold of her, leading towards the stars that led to the West wing.

Eventually, she found herself in a largish room, clutter scattered all around it. Papers with music scribbled all over them lined the floor, a piccolo sat on the desk, and there was a picture on the wall. It had been slashed, almost by claws, ripping straight through the face of a familiar young man.

It was Forte, definitely…. But lighter.

And then there was the rose. It rested in a glass dome, situated in the centre of a table in the only tidy area of the room.

Belle frowned, slowly making her way over there, lifting the glass dome up and placing it next to her. She examined the rose for a few moments, before reaching out to touch it. However, before he fingers could make contact with the soft, red petals, someone grabbed her shoulder and threw her to the ground.

"What are you doing here?!" Forte yelled, glancing between the rose and Belle, "What did you do to it?!"

"N-Nothing!" Bella stammered, not willing to admit that she was scared.

"Don't you realise what you could have done?! GET OUT OF HERE! GO!"

Belle didn't hesitate, pushing herself to her feet and racing out of the door. She didn't care if the storm made it dangerous, she had to get out of there. She mounted her horse, raced through the garden and out the large iron gates, into the woods.

She didn't see the wolves until it was almost too late.

The howls sent chills up and down her spine as she kept pushing her horse to go faster, desperately trying not to look back. When she found herself cornered, Belle grabbed the biggest stick that she could find in an attempt to beat them away.

And the bat-like creature dropped down and ripped the head off of one of them, before spinning around and slicing at another one.

Belle could only sit there in stunned astonishment.

The creature was bitten and scratched several times, bleeding copiously from the wounds, but this didn't seem to slow him down. As the Alpha wolf leapt up and bit it in the shoulder, sending the creature to its' knees, Belle re-grabbed her stick and hit the Alpha as hard as she could.

Taking advantage of the distraction, the creature pulled the Alpha off of it's back and snapping it's neck. For a minute, it looked like it was going to fly off… until it shrunk in size, wings folding in until they became a familiar black coat, wrapped around a familiar figure.

Forte stared at her for a few seconds, before collapsing to the ground in a heap.

For a brief second, Belle considered leaving him there… he was the creature of nightmares after all. She moved to leave, and then doubled back. "You have to help me…" she whispered, "… you have to stand."

Forte weakly glanced up at her, only managing to push himself to his knees before shaking his head, knowing that he could go no further.

It took some time, but eventually she managed to get him onto the back of her horse, and they made their way back to the castle.

…..

"AAAAHHHHH!" Forte glared at Belle, "That hurts!"

"Well if you just held still, it wouldn't hurt as much!"

"If you hadn't run away, this would never have happened!"

Belle rolled her eyes in frustration, "If you hadn't scared me like that, that I wouldn't have ran away!"

"You shouldn't have been in the West Wing!"

"You should learn to control your temper!"

Forte huffed and rolled over, his back facing Belle, who simply rolled her eyes.

"Get some rest…" she whispered placing the wet cloth to one side and heading out the room, her mind racing to make sense of it all.

…

Forte grunted as he heard soft music coming from the side of his bed, prompting him to roll over and see what was going on.

"Where did you even find that?"

Belle paused, moving the violin away from under her chin and resting it on her leg, "It was shoved into a cupboard…. Left to rot. Shame… It's a gorgeous instrument."

"One of a kind." Forte pushed himself into a seated position, "I didn't know you could play. Most peasant women- "He cut himself off, wincing at the look on Belle's face, "- my apologies, but music is not commonly taught. I was wondering where you learnt to play like that?"

"Books and music were the only things that kept me sane in the village." Belle sighed, "My Father insisted on teaching me."

"… Do you play anything else?"

"A few things… why?"

Slowly, Forte pushed himself to his feet, grabbing an ornate cane from the wall and walking out of the door, gesturing for Belle to follow him. He led her into a largish room, that was lined with books on one side, and musical instruments on the other side, taking care not to step into the rays of sunshine that shone through the windows.

"Maybe you can continue your education in here." When he glanced back over at Belle, he frowned at the look on her face, "Are you alright?"

Belle spun around several times, trying to take everything in, "This is… amazing!" she whispered.

"…. Yes, I suppose it is." A rare smile flashed across Forte's face, "If you like it so much, then consider it yours."

As he moved to leave, Belle's voice piped up again. "Can you really play all of these instruments?"

Forte glanced back at the wall, eyes scanning over them before he shrugged, "Not all of them. There are some Greek ones in that corner."

At the light giggling that erupted from Belle's mouth, Forte felt like he could write an entire symphony, based purely on that sound. Mumbling his apologies, he left the room, only to hear a delighted laugh not long afterwards.

Two symphonies then.

…

Over the next few days, Belle found herself paying more attention to Forte, trying to place where she'd heard the name before.

She ate dinner with him, trying not to think too much about the red liquid that he consumed.

She would read poetry to him, watching as those long fingers seemed to tap out an unseen tune that followed the rhythm of the rhyme.

"What kind of composition would you write to this one?" she finally asked one day, smiling as Forte paused in surprise.

"Something… melancholy. In the minor key. Or maybe something slightly more upbeat… like someone skating across the ice."

As the days passed by, Belle started to build up a picture of the reserved man. There was something sweet, almost kind about the other man. Yes, he had his moments of arrogance, but it was clear that he was working on that.

There was something there, that Belle hadn't seen before.

….

Little did Belle know, Forte was having his own thoughts about the woman in his home.

Belle was… nothing like he'd ever experienced before.

Forte tried to act natural, tried to ignore it… But it was nice to see Belle smiling at him.

….

This was new… new and bit alarming.

Walking through the gardens, she heard a gentle humming, leading her to Forte, who was seating underneath a stone arch, tapping something against his leg.

"That sounds… romantic." She couldn't help but tease, giggling as Forte tensed and instantly stopped humming, readjusting his hood to shield him from the winter sun's beams.

"It was just… a little something I was working on." He muttered, before nervously clearing his throat, "I never thanked you for saving my life, I just realised."

There was a brief moment of silence, before Belle sighed, "Look…. I never thanked you. For saving my life."

"It was nothing… really." She took a seat next to him, placing a hand on his knee, knowing that he probably didn't do this sort of thing often, "Is there a part in that composition for a violinist?"

"…. Always."

…..

Over the next few days, the storm having passed several days before, the pair got closer and closer.

Forte had finished the duet and insisted that he hear both sides of it. Dressed in a well-tailored, blue suit, he took his seat at the organ, turning towards the door as Belle entered.

If his heart was still beating, it would have stopped at that moment.

Dressed in a gorgeous satin yellow dress, a darker shade of yellow used to highlight a pattern of branches and flowers along the skirt, Belle looked stunning.

"Sorry." She apologised, twirling slightly, "It was in my room, and I think it fits the role of a violinist better than my old clothes ever could."

"Yes… they do." Forte shook his head and cleared his throat. "Right. Shall we begin?"

When she nodded getting into position, the duet started…. And the room seemed to light up. It was like a dance of music. If they'd been dancing around the small room, entwined in each other's arms, it wouldn't have been as romantic as this.

'Shit' Forte thought to himself, watching as Belle's fingers moved hypnotically on the strings, 'It's love.'