Disclaimer: I am flattered that anyone might think I ever could think up any of the amazingness of is Beauty and the Beast. However, I am not "as old as time" andI am merely borrowing the story for a moment.(A note for those of you lucky enough never to have read Aristotle's Nicomachean Ethics, the title of this fic is based off of one of his favorite terms. Kudos to anyone who gets where I am going with it.)

Saluete. Bonjour. Hello.

I greet you, you who have chosen this tale.

Before I start my story, I must cation those who choose to lightly read my story. I am not going to tell a fairytale, or some Disney rubish stolen from a myth. I will tell it exactly as it is, as I remember. Take it or leave it, I am not bothered.

To those who stay, I will set the stage, because I must leave behind the world of enchantresses to the much more gruesome reality. The terror of the Gods. My story is not a gentle one, free from corruption, intrigue, or human error: I was a sacrifice to Love. And not the noble kind.

The poets will write about the a love to span centuries, the bards with sing of a mighty spell broken by a kiss, and historians...well, history will forever be defined in the subjunctive. The psycho-analysists will tell me I suffered from "stockholme syndrome". I guess they would be right but the heart has no reason and Eros was always the most fickle.

What do I care. I will continue to be rewritten, resung, and repainted. For now, all I care is that you at least learn my name. I have been known as Belle, Beauty, Anima...but the name closest to my heart, the tale least told, is about a girl called Psyche.

For you though, my dear readers, I will tell you of my years spent in arete.

A/N Please Review and tell me how you like it plus any questions or comments.

Arete~ 1) moral virtue or happiness derrived of inner beauty.

2) the narrow ridge of rock between two valleys.