This story is based off of Beauty and the Beast, if that wasn't already obvious, and it's my first attempt at putting Alec in the place of a princess. As a result, he's probably a little OCC, but I tried my best not to make him too different. Also, Jace is ridiculously OCC in every way, shape, and form (which I feel bad about) so you're warned.

I don't own TMI or Beauty and the Beast

Prince Magnus did not have much, but he had his good looks. That was really all he needed, anyway. What use were parents, when his father had been abusive and his mother had been depressed? Why should he need real friends; he had servants he spended time with that suited him just the same. Magnus was perfectly content as long as his outfit was in season and his partner was infatuated.

Maybe that was why the blonde was not leaving him alone. Magnus was just too irresistible for her to let him walk away.

"This tavern is sub-par. You would be surprised at how lavish my daddy's bar is two towns over." The whore flicked her hair and batted her thick eyelashes. Magnus did not bother hiding it when he rolled his eyes.

"That's lovely, dear. Now if you don't mind, I was trying to have a drink alone," Magnus told her, trying not to be toorude.

It wasn't like the girl was not attractive; she was. Her blonde hair glowed in the light of the dingy tavern's torches, and her face had high cheekbones and a small, sculpted nose. Her lips were plump and welcoming. Normally Magnus would have been all over her, despite not knowing if he would be charged for her services or not, but today he was not in the mood. It was the anniversary of his mother's suicide tomorrow, and he wanted to wake up utterly shit-faced and alone-they way he deserved to be.

The look in the girl's eyes made Magnus stop himself from repeating his words. Instead, he waited for her to respond.

"How rude of you. I was only making friendly conversation," she said, sounding offended. Magnus did not care in the slightest how much he had hurt her feelings. He was miserable, so the blonde slut could be too.

"I would appreciate it if you stopped. Your unwanted advances are making my beer taste sour," Magnus snapped. "Please, go try to bed someone who doesn't mind waking up with a disease."

The snobby blonde-was her name Cammi? Maybe Camilla?-sneered and grabbed onto Magnus' hand. Magnus tried to pull away, but her grip was of iron. "Have you not heard the rumors of me?" she hissed.

"Oh, the one where you only charge twenty pence for a night? I wasn't too concerned with it, but I'm sure it's true." Her sharp nails dug into Magnus' fingers.

"No, the one about me being an enchantress," she snarled.

It was loud, so no one heard her exclamation but Magnus. The tavern was a popular one in Wrangel, one small town out of many that was nearby the city of Idris. Out of the hundred people in Wrangel, it seemed half of them ended up in Blackthorn's Tavern every friday night.

"I have not heard that rumor," Magnus said levelly, "because people do not typically believe in magic." Maybe the blonde wouldn't leave him alone because she had some deep-rooted psychological issues.

The girl frowned, and though the expression came across as almost pouty, it seemed sane. She withdrew her hand and her mouth twitched even farther downward. "Why don't you believe in magic?" she asked, sounding sad.

"This world is a nasty place, so nothing as beautiful as magic can exist in it," Magnus said, his mom's suicide fresh in his mind.

Cam-something tilted her head to the side. "Oh, Prince Magnus, magic does not have to be beautiful."

Magnus did not recall telling her his name, nor that he was a prince. With one last touch to his hand, the girl was gone. Magnus shrugged, downed the rest of his beer in one gulp, and thanked the divine wonders of the world for ridding him of his problems for the night.

That night Magnus stumbled off his horse and into his palace, lurching like a man right off a ship. Ragnor greeted him at the door, and Magnus threw himself into his doorman's arms. With the slurred command to be taken to his bedroom, Magnus settled his head on Ragnor's shoulder as the servant led his intoxicated master into the west wing.

Once Magnus shut his bedroom door in Ragnor's face, he stumbled over to his bed and sat down, trying to remember where he put his nightclothes. He was distracted in his search by the glowing pink rose standing upright in a glass case atop Magnus' vanity. Magnus grinned in delight and made his way slowly over to the vanity to get close to the beautiful flower.

It was magic, Magnus knew it. And it was pretty. Probably a gift from that enchantress. Magnus reached the vanity and gazed at the flower in rapture; for once in a long time his own reflection was not the first thing he looked at. There was a small note propped up against the thin glass case, written in elegant script.

This rose is an enchanted one, which will bloom until your twenty-first year. If you can learn to love another, and earn love in return by the time the last petal falls, then the spell will be broken. If not, you will doomed to remain a beast until your last breath. I would not get your hopes up; after all, who could ever learn to love a beast?

Magnus raised his gaze to the mirror and, even through his drunken haze, he was horrified.