Bitter Frost

A/N:Hello everyone. This is a take on what it might have been like for Maurice during that winter as he searched for the castle to rescue Belle. It's a journal he took with him in order to record what happened to him past and present so that if anyone would find him they might continue to search for his imprisoned daughter and hopefully try to save her from her "dark fate." Well anyways I will stop babbling and let you read it. Hopefully you will find this story at least interesting if not entertaining. At some points at least. Oh and one more thing: I'm going to record the dates in the journal, at least at first so please remember that this is a parallel universe and don't remind me that King So and So was monarch at that time because I know. Remember that Disney knew too when they set Beauty and the Beast in the time period they did. So no flames on the year dates! That is all.

Disclaimer: Beauty and the Beast is not mine. Maybe I can buy it from Disney one day and breathe some life back into it.

November 30, 1615

The Dark Forest

To Whom It May Concern:

My name is Maurice LeRoeux. I am from a small village in Midwestern France called Molyneaux. Though my origins truly lie in Paris, that is not why I write in this journal and record these events. My daughter Belle was kidnapped and taken prisoner in an old long unused castle (or so I thought) earlier this evening, by none other than the most frightening, monstrous, dangerous, and merciless Beast ever known to man.

I expect you want to know how it all started, how she became imprisoned and how I have come to make this perilous journey alone. It all started three days ago when I had finally managed to invent something that not only would be useful and benefit mankind but also something that worked upon completion. For that is my trade. I am an inventor. I used to be a merchant in Paris and sell many a variety of useful goods while only inventing in my spare time. I lived with my wife Lydia and our little girl Belle in a very well to do lifestyle where I could give them the comforts and entities they deserved. But alas, when my little Belle was only 12 years of age her dear mother and my precious wife took ill with diphtheria. We both helplessly watched as the evil virus took her life bit by bit over the course of 4 years. I will say this about that terrible situation. It never took Lydia's emotional strength or her spirit from us. No matter how weak she got from the terrible affliction, she never let our daughter see her listless from fatigue or in pain. She always kept her sweet disposition and fiery spirit. In fact Belle has inherited that same spirit and to this day is intimidated by very few people. She is also the kind and loving soul her mother was. My wife kept her mind and spirit until the sickness escaped with her life, leaving her body an empty shell of what had once been the greatest beauty and most compassionate soul. Over the course of two years my business began to fail and deteriorate until the most vicious blow broke it forever.

The news came quickly enough. Pirates had plundered and burned most of the ships, and the few that would have made it to France to keep my trade alive a little longer, met with terrible monsoons that were common that time of year. None of my ships survived. And then eventually there was no money left. My daughter and I were suddenly penniless. My lawyer left us only one option: Travel to another place, one that would be cheap and uncomplicated and rebuild a new life there. The unspoken option was clear and chilling. Live in poverty on the Parisian streets begging and groveling for money, begging the mercy of an uncaring city, subjecting ourselves to the filthy underbelly that would harden and jade my daughter into the likeness of a scarlet woman. I knew I could never let that happen. Belle's innocence and safety were more important to me that anything else I possessed and I knew that life on the streets was no place for the child that meant more to me than life. So I did the only thing that was right. I protected my daughter and moved to Molyneaux. I know she didn't like the idea of leaving home, even though she said hardly a word about it.

Oh dear! It appears I've completely gotten off subject. Well since my invention worked the way it should, I set off for The Fair on my faithful horse Philippe, with high hopes and expectations. I had no idea of the horrors that awaited me later that night. The journey started off fairly pleasantly. I rode for a few hours in the direction of the Province Fair. But soon, it started almost imperceptibly to get darker and spookier as I rode on into the forest. I started to become slightly uneasy, but kept it at bay by looking to see if I had made many wrong turns. My horse Philippe grew steadily more and more skittish and nervous. I know now he was trying to tell me that we were obviously in danger. I should have listened. However I rode us both deeper into the forest, it growing more foreboding and eerie each second. Suddenly, a rustle in some nearby bushes startled my horse. I managed to keep a small amount of control over my horse until we backed up into a tree full of sleeping bats. As we jolted into the back of the old tree, we must have woken a colony of hundreds it seemed, for they all flew down upon us, swarming and furious as an agitated swarm of bees. That's when Philippe finally had it. He was so spooked and frightened that he ran helter-skelter. Thankfully he came back to his senses a hair's width from falling from a high cliff. I managed to back him up and almost regained control of him before the howl of the wolf sounded in the night and fully frightened my horse. Completely panicking, my horse threw me and took off faster than I'd ever seen him run his life. Before I knew it, I had been left alone with silence…and ominous foreboding.

"Philippe?" I whispered softly, tentatively.

Suddenly I heard a savage growl behind me. I turned and was met from afar with another growl and three sets of terrifying yellow eyes. I knew I was doomed if I didn't make a run for it. Quickly I ran, pushing myself to my limits, terror giving me motivation and strength to my legs. I felt I would go crazy with fear it was so horrible. While spurring me on, it was choking me, filling my heart with an unwanted toxic that grew and grew. Thankfully I found shelter quickly. Looking fast for a safe haven I ran quickly to the gate, desperately pleading with it to open up and give me refuge from the wolves.

"Help! Help! Is someone there?" I kept calling.

Just as the wolves were within a 2-foot radius of me, it suddenly opened and I was thrust in and thrown to the ground by a gatekeeper I could not see. As the wolves drew rapidly closer, I managed to get the gate closed and started to crawl away. But for one brief horrifying moment a wolf had managed to grab my foot and tried to drag me back. By sheer determination I jerked free and scurried away. I was terribly shaken and very aware that I had escaped by the skin of my teeth. Then for the first time I got a good long look at my "shelter."

It was a magnificent, gigantic form of architecture that loomed over the land and swallowed up the sky. Suddenly, it began to rain. Torrents and torrents of rain gushed down from above, drenching me in seconds. I rushed to the castle and knocked for admittance. The door opened almost immediately, although once again the doorkeeper seemed invisible. That's impossible though isn't it?

Anyway I tentatively stepped inside and called out softly. I knew I had to make my presence known so that if caught, I could remain blameless of just slipping in. I explained myself as I searched for at least one living soul in the castle and found something unimaginable. It was so ridiculous and so preposterous that I believe it would have all been a dream if not for the events that followed. I looked for the voices that beckoned me and found that one of them came from the very candelabra that I held in my hand!

I dropped him in surprise. Who had invented such…a marvelous, lifelike contraption? Thinking back now I realize it probably wasn't the politest thing I'd ever done and hope I haven't offended him. The candelabra had its own personality! As did the tabletop clock that came over and reprimanded him for who knows what. Strange as they were, they took me in, clothed me, fed me, warmed me, and dried me off. I had never been in such a hospitable environment as this. Certainly never in Molyneaux, even when we first came. I was met by many other strange objects that otherwise would have been inanimate. A coat rack that wrapped a blanket around me. A footrest that acted like a rambunctious puppy. A kindly teapot that acted as a hostess offered me tea. Her little teacup son, who was as active and playful as any living, breathing child. I won't forget him anytime soon. He said the darndest things.

As I sat by the fire, comfortable and safe, I was instantly jerked out of my protective shroud the objects offered me. And I almost dropped the little boy teacup in the process. A loud bang sounded, followed by a swift rush of wind that rapidly suffocated the fire. Everything that had been light and warmth suddenly became darkness and threatening peril. I sat utterly paralyzed in the chair, save for uncontrollable trembling and whimpering, my greatest fear not knowing what next to expect. Suddenly a low, ominous growl pierced the silence, and my fear grew larger than all the seven oceans. Then the most petrifying voice stilled my heart.

"There's a stranger in here." Came the menacing bestial growl.

The suave candelabra tried to say something in my defense, but was cut off by an earsplitting roar. The clock too tried to offer an explanation but the animalistic bellow that followed was worse than the last one. I could hardly stand it any more. I slowly turned to the right-and to the left. What I saw gave me the most shocking and frightening experience of my life. What I saw will never again compare to any frightening creature man's imagination may produce. The wolves that had chased me here were now like helpless little puppies, and the fear they had evoked in me seemed so meaningless as I looked at the thing that seemed very capable of killing me brutally and savagely. It was a massive animal, with a fearsome face that defied imagination in hideousness and horror. It was as if I was meeting the spawn of Hell. In fact, as Cerberus was Hades' pet, this atrocity was most assuredly Satan's pet put on earth to consume any poor soul that was unfortunate enough to cross its path. I was struck dumb with overwhelming fear and didn't speak again until that creature, that monstrosity, that beast demanded this from me:

"Who are you? WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?"

I did my best under the circumstances to answer.

"I was lost in the woods-"

"You're not WELCOME HERE!" It snarled brutally.

"I'm sorry-" I meekly tried to apologize.

"What are you staring AT?" it menaced threateningly.

"Nothing-" I pleaded.

"So," it sneered. "You've come to STARE AT THE BEAST have you?"

"Please!" I begged. "I meant no harm. I just needed a place to stay."

"Oh, don't worry," it mocked in its demonic voice. "I'll give you a place to stay."

"No please!" I pleaded. "No, NO!"

My hands are shaking terribly. The have been for the past ten minutes. I'm so very frightened. (Another 10 minutes pass.) I'm afraid I cannot write I anymore of this horrific story. I had taken an emotional beating when I met The Beast, and now I have taken one again by reliving the experience. But for the sake of my daughter, I will write more tomorrow. 'Til then, adieu.