Connor was up early the next morning. He bounded from his quarters and down into the kitchens, where several staff were already at work. They worked with a cheery fluidity – they were happy to have a chance to create a real meal. Connor's eating habits had been more than a little strange since his transformation and the servants no longer required their own sustenance. But there was a human in the palace that would care about seasonings and flavours and different kinds of foods and properly cooked meat! The oven, who had once been the head chef, was fired up and ready to go, while frying pans and bowls flung themselves around the room to catch the fruits and vegetables and cut meats that the knives were sending everywhere. Connor located Lena, who was in a corner of the kitchen, watching everything with a careful eye. Behind her, was Stef, who often carried other servants from place to place, as it took some of them long periods of time to move about the palace.

"What time do you think he'll be awake to eat?" Connor asked.

Lena gave him that knowing look. "Give him some time. He had a hard night."

Connor straightened up, letting out a growl. "He has until the food is cooked."

"You can't control –"

"He. Has. Until. The Food. Is Cooked."

"Acting like that won't get you anywhere," Stef said.

Connor glared at her.

"You need to be kind," Lena added. "Kindness earns more than anything else. He misses his sister and this is all new to him. A little sympathy could go a long way."

Connor clicked his claws together. "What … What do you suggest I do?"

"Being polite," Stef said. "Mind your manners."

Manners, right. He could do manners … Maybe. It had been a long time since anyone had expected Connor to act like anything in particular. Connor deflated at that thought.

"He's just going to hate me," Connor said. "What's the point?"

"The point is that you never know," Lena said.

"I'm a beast."

"Show him you're something else," Stef said. "He will only know what you allow him to."

"I am a beast."

"What do you have to lose?" Lena challenged him. "We know the rose and the timeline as well as you do."

Connor dropped down onto all fours. "NO! WE DON'T TALK ABOUT IT!"

He whirled around, and Stef picked up Lena in her arms, as if to protect her. He clenched his hands, although there was no give to the stone floor. He roared, trying to release his frustration. They didn't talk about the rose, that evil, slowly dying, rose and all of its falling petals. They didn't talk about how close his eighteenth birthday truly was, because it did not matter. Nothing was going to change, boy or no boy. They were doomed.

Lena was watching him, with her soft eyes, and Connor ran. He couldn't take her look, because he knew what he was doing to them; he knew what he had done to them. He raced off to his rooms in the west wing, throwing a table at the far wall.

Nothing mattered.

(-.-)

Jude couldn't bring himself to move. He couldn't tell if it was morning yet; the curtains around his bed were too thick. But he didn't care. He just knew that he didn't have the strength or the determination to sit up out of bed. The world was not what he had known yesterday, when he had awoken in a panic to find Phillipe alone in front of the house. And the world would never be what it was like two days ago, when he and Callie had been talking about moving to a bigger place, something more than the tiny town that had always treated them as strange, and find where they belonged in the world. Callie was gone forever. He had signed his life over to this castle and to the beast in the castle; he was a prisoner forever.

He didn't regret the decision. He still believed that it was better him than Callie, but that didn't mean that it didn't make his heart ache and his eyes fill with tears. His entire life, it seemed, it had just been him and Callie. He hoped that she was fine. He hoped that she was able to move on with her life. She was strong. She should be capable.

"Oh, Jude," Mariana trilled. "It's almost time for breakfast! What would you like to wear? I'm full of clothes I know will fit you!"

Breakfast. The Beast. The last thing that Jude wanted to do was face his captor, especially over something like breakfast.

"No," he forced out.

"No?" Mariana's voice faltered. "He's the Master. You can't say no to the Master."

"I don't want any breakfast."

Before Mariana could say a word, there was a knock on the door and a male voice said, "Sir, the Master would like you to join him for breakfast."

"No, thank you," Jude called.

"You can take your time," the voice replied. "The table will be ready soon."

"No, thank you. I wouldn't like any breakfast this morning," Jude clarified.

"N-not have breakfast?"

"No, thank you," Jude said.

"You haven't eaten," Mariana said. "Breakfast might do you good."

No. He would have to come face to face with the Beast, and Jude just didn't want to do that right now. Jude was resigned to his fate, but that didn't mean that he wanted to play house and have a nice breakfast with his captor. For whatever reason, he had been given a bedroom when Callie had been confined to a cage in a tower. He didn't know what those reasons might be, but it was unsettling to realize.

There was another knock at the door. "Sir, breakfast."

"No, thank you," Jude said firmly.

"Please, sir? It's breakfast time."

"No, thank you. I will not be going to breakfast."

There was a scraping noise from outside the door, and then he heard the sound of whoever it was leaving. He rolled over in his bed and faced the portion of wall that he could see. He wasn't used to spending the morning in bed. He sat up and opened the bed curtains.

"Are you going to breakfast?" Mariana asked hopefully.

"No, I just thought that I would get dressed."

Mariana looked disappointed, but then she closed her eyes as Jude began to take off the sleep clothes. He put back on his clothes from yesterday, though Mariana tried to offer him something from her drawers.

"Who did those belong to?" Jude asked her.

Mariana hesitated. "Once, we were different. And we had guests that weren't … you."

"I'm a prisoner," Jude reminded her with a snap.

Mariana opened her mouth again, but was interrupted by a pounding on the door. Jude took a fearful stumble backward. The room seemed to shake with the force of the knock and Jude was scared the wood would bend and shatter under the Beast's powerful paw.

"WHY WON'T YOU COME TO BREAKFAST!?"

Jude went backward again, crashing into the cold wall. The night had somehow managed to dull how terrifying the Beast actually sounded. Jude didn't know how to answer the Beast, and so he cringed against the wall, waiting for the doors to fly open. After the Beast actually charged into the room, Jude didn't know what would happen. He was sure that he wouldn't like it. He was sure that it would hurt.

He heard the low grunts of the Beast, and then, a softer knock. "Will you come to breakfast?"

Jude sucked in a breath. He didn't know if he could speak without his voice shaking. But if he was going to be a prisoner here forever, he had to grow a spine now. He imagined that he had Callie's strength and spoke, proud that his voice remained steady. "No."

Jude heard the beginnings of a growl, and he almost flinched.

"Will you come down to breakfast … please?"

"No, thank you."

The Beast growled and he knocked again. "Breakfast, please?"

"I said, no, thank you!"

"If you don't come down for breakfast," the Beast said evenly, "you don't eat."

"Fine!" Jude fired back, although his stomach gnawed at him. It had been so long since he'd had a meal.

There was a low, rumbling noise from the other side of the door, and then Jude heard the heavy footsteps of the Beast storming away. He gasped, feeling the strangest sense of relief. He'd been so sure that the Beast was about to storm in and that he was about to be hurt. Jude fell to the floor again. He didn't know what he was doing.

"Breakfast should still be on the table," Mariana said.

"I can't cater to him," Jude told her. "Not after that."

Not that he'd had any intention of catering to the Beast to begin with.

He spent his day in his room, ignoring the hunger pangs in his stomach. He'd felt worse, when he and Callie were both young and they hadn't had the ability to feed themselves consistently. He paced about, trying to distract himself. Boredom had never ran so rampant in his days. He couldn't remember the last time that he had a day in which he had nothing to do. There was always some work to be found, a chore to do, or an errand to be run. Now, the only thing he had to was hide and explore the aspects of his room. He supposed he could leave the bedroom – the Beast had said last night the palace was his home, and he had said this morning only that Jude wasn't allowed to eat – but Jude's spine wasn't strong enough to carry him out of his room.

He made up his bed and tied to curtains back, because his hands felt restless. There was a small writing desk over in the corner, and he poked around it, although there wasn't anything of note. There were plush chairs and a vanity, along with some sparse bookshelves that no longer housed anything. Aside from the actual pieces of furniture, most knick-knacks had been cleared out of the room, and Jude wondered why. He almost asked Mariana, but she had decided to nap. He watched her snore for a moment, fascinated. She was so human-like, despite her appearance. He wondered how she became like this.

There was clearly something wrong here. Wardrobes and books weren't supposed to talk and beasts weren't supposed to exist.

Jude watched the sunset from the window seat in his bedroom, and he looked down at the grounds. The shadows crept across the surrounding forest and up across the ominous palace courtyard. He looked to the horizon and wondered if Callie had made it home safely yet. He wondered if he would ever know. He rested his head down on his knees. His heart hurt.

"How are you feeling?"

Jude looked up at Mariana's voice. "Do you have a family?"

"We told you last night, Lena is my mom," Mariana said.

Oh, right.

"I have a twin brother," Mariana added. "Well, we're quite different now. He's a set of candlesticks."

Jude was momentarily distracted. "What happened here? Why is this place like this?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Mariana said nervously. "We are what we are. It is what it is."

Jude stood up from the window seat, stretching slightly. He crossed over to his door, laying his hand on the handle.

"Where are you going?" Mariana asked him.

"To get something to eat," Jude decided.

"The Master said –"

"What's the point of me starving when there's food?" Jude asked her. "And if he kills me for it, at least I'm no longer a prisoner."

"The Master wouldn't!"

"I don't know that," Jude reminded her. He glanced at the wardrobe, and she appeared concerned. "I'm not suicidal."

Mariana didn't have any reply to that, and Jude didn't know what else to say, and so he left his room. He stepped out into the hallway, looking around. He wasn't sure which way to go. He didn't know his way around at all. He listened carefully for a moment, trying to hear if the Beast was around. Surely he would hear a creature that big approach.

Jude wavered for a moment, and then he went back the way that the Beast had led him last night. He found the main staircase and descended quickly. The kitchens would have to be somewhere on the bottom level, right? He scurried around the dark hallways, quickly backing away when he found some that were mostly covered in dust. Then, he began to hear voices. He recognized one as the male voice from this morning and then a female voice that he was sure was Lena, the book from last night. But there was another male voice and another female voice that he didn't recognize.

He made his way toward them slowly, waiting for the Beast's growly tone. But he didn't hear the Beast, and he knocked hesitantly on the door. The voices inside paused, and Jude opened it. He didn't pause upon seeing a strange collection of objects gathered in the kitchen, all having a conversation with strange expressions on the faces that they shouldn't have. Jude stepped inside the warm room.

"I, um, I was wondering if I could please have something to eat."

Lena perked up, and teetered forward almost as if she were about to fall. The suit of armour behind her reached out and steadied her.

"Thank you," Lena murmured. "Sure, we can fix you up something!"

A long black stick, with a rather squished on face jumped forward a step. "The master said –"

Jude recognized his voice as the one who had tried to summon him down to breakfast.

"Brandon!" the suit of armour admonished. Her voice had a hollow quality, as it rang inside of her empty body; she was the only one of them that didn't have facial features. "It would be wrong to not feed the poor boy."

Jude didn't know how he felt about being called 'poor boy', but she sounded genuine about it, not condescending. Her head tilted toward him, and though Jude couldn't see if she had any eyes, he felt that she was looking at him.

"A little something," Brandon muttered.

"Brandon," the armour repeated. "He's our guest. Even the Master wouldn't let him starve to death."

"Thank you," Jude said. "I really don't require much."

"Nonsense, we'll feed you," Stef said.

The candlesticks on the table spun around to face him. "I'm Jesus, by the way."

"Oh! Right!" Lena exclaimed. "I'm so sorry. This is Brandon and this is Stef. Everyone, this is our guest, Jude."

"Hello," Jude said. He awkwardly pulled out one of the small chairs around the table, but Lena immediately began to fuss at him.

"We'll have dinner in the dining hall," she said.

"Oh, really, you don't have to –" Jude began, but Jesus was waving his candles in Jude's direction, and Jude didn't particularly feel like being set on fire, so he stepped away from the table.

With practiced ease, Jesus leapt down from the table onto the stone floor.

"Be a host," Stef whispered to Brandon.

He gave her an exasperated look, but Brandon followed after the candlesticks. Jesus beckoned at Jude to join the two of them.

"This way!" Jesus said.

Jude followed, walking with short steps, for as quick as the two objects moved, they couldn't move as fast as he did, even with his naturally slow pace. Jesus managed to push open the double doors that led to the grand dining room, and Jude stared around, wondering when he would get over how magnificent the palace was. Even though it was clear that much of it was falling into disrepair and had been neglected for several years, even though most of the décor was grim, it was still beautiful. Jesus waved him into a seat at the end of the table, while he and Brandon were able to leap onto the wood surface. Jude sat down.

"What do you feel like?" Brandon asked.

"Steak," Jesus answered. "Bacon. Chocolate. Everything ..."

"Not you."

"You miss it too," Jesus muttered, and then he hopped down the table toward Jude. "What would you like?"

"Oh, um, whatever you have is fine."

Jesus clapped the two candle stems that he seemed to use as arms together. The metal clanged. The doors from the kitchen burst open, and trolleys wheeled themselves in. He gasped as his food was bumped onto a plate in front of him, and he waited for his plate and his silverware to move. Jude didn't know if he could eat with it if it talked and moved like Jesus and Brandon.

"Is everything in here alive?" Jude asked Jesus.

"No," Brandon answered quickly.

Jesus opened his mouth to say more, but Brandon bumped against Jesus, and Jesus' mouth snapped shut.

Jude trusted Brandon's word, and his utensils hadn't moved, so he picked it up and began to taste the meat and vegetables on the plate in front of him. He cut pieces off and put it in his mouth; the meat nearly melted on his tongue and the vegetables were so well-seasoned and fresh that he could have died then and there. He hadn't known what to expect of a meal cooked by household objects, but clearly the chef knew what he was doing.

"Do you like it?" Jesus asked.

"It's wonderful," Jude said, speaking through an almost full mouth. He'd been so hungry. He hadn't realized how hungry until the food had touched his tongue. "Thank you!"

There was a harsh, creaking noise, and Stef made her way into the room, Lena in her arms.

"It's so wonderful," Jude said to them. At his side, another trolley appeared.

"Dessert?" Lena asked.

"You don't need to be so nice," Jude said, though he was already reaching for a pastry with a yellow cream in the middle.

"You're our guest!" Lena and Jesus said at nearly the same time.

"Nice to know you listen to me," Lena murmured to the candlestick.

"Always, Mom," he said.

Jude just stared at the interaction. They were a book and a candlestick, but there was so affection in just the words. Some part of him, the one that had been a tiny child who had known a mother's love, ached. Callie loved him, he knew that, but she was his sister, not his mother, and that had always been clear.

"We want you to be happy here," Stef said.

"You're very nice," Jude said honestly. "And you make me feel like a guest, though I know I'm a prisoner."

"We prefer the term guest," Stef said.

"Why don't Jesus and Brandon give you a tour of the castle in the morning?" Lena suggested. "It might help you feel a little more comfortable here."

"The Master did say to treat the castle as your home," Jesus reminded Jude.

"I'd like that," Jude finally said. He stifled a yawn. "Though I think I'd like to go to bed now."

"Sure, love," Stef said. "We'll see you tomorrow."

"Um," Jude said. "I don't … remember where my room is."

"Here, I'll take you," Lena offered. Stef set her down on the table and she approached Jude. "Just pick me up, Jude, it's all right."

Feeling strange, Jude picked up the book. Lena sounded like an adult woman, and Mariana had referred to her as her mother – and Jesus, the candlesticks, had to be the brother that Mariana had mentioned. The thought of carrying an adult woman around in his arms was strange. But she was a book. An enchanted book, nonetheless, because books didn't talk, but it was odd. He faced her outward as he stood up and bid the others goodnight.

"Just go left out the main doors," she directed.

Jude waited until they were ascending the stairs to say, "May I ask you a strange question?"

"Sure."

"Is there anything on the inside of your pages?" he asked.

"Human anatomy," Lena answered. "That wasn't a strange question at all."

"I thought it might be out of bounds."

"How old are you, Jude?"

"Seventeen," Jude replied.

"You seem so old for seventeen."

Jude shrugged. "Callie and I only had each other. We both had to be adults. I would have rather grown up with her than stayed a child without her."

"You love her."

"She's my sister." Jude repeated, "We only had each other."

"Stop here," Lena said. "This is your room."

"Thank you," Jude told her. He gently sat her down on the floor. "I have another question."

She smiled at him, her strange lips stretching across the book's cover. "I hope I have an answer."

"Will I be expected to have breakfast with him tomorrow?"

Her smile faded. "The Master was … upset that you decided not to join him this morning."

Jude crossed his arms low over his chest. He didn't want to care about the Beast's feelings; the Beast clearly didn't care about Jude's.

"Several of us spoke with him. He doesn't want you to be … unhappy here. The Master is tough to know and understand."

"I don't want to understand him!" Jude cried. "He's a beast!"

Lena pursed her lips. Finally, she said, "Tomorrow is a new day. Have a good night, Jude."

"Goodnight, Lena."

Jude pushed open his heavy bedroom doors and slipped inside.

(-.-)

He's a beast. He's a beast. He's a beast.

Connor raced through the palace halls, bounding up to his room in the west wing. He shouldn't have been eavesdropping, but this was his castle and that was his servant speaking to his prisoner. He had every right to know what was being said. And Jude was the first boy he'd ever seen since the spell had been cast. Jude was the last chance to do anything about the spell. And so Connor had followed him as he had left his room and walked down to the kitchen. He had hovered far enough away from the dining hall that he would never be seen, but so that his acute hearing could catch every word uttered.

He had wanted to be angry about Jude eating, even after Connor had sworn he wouldn't. But he didn't. He didn't want to be overly cruel to the boy. Stef had chewed him out over his yelling stunt this morning, and Connor was still sulking. He was the prince. He was currently the prince of nothing and he was also currently a beast, but she was still his servant and he had still been a crown prince, once. He'd never expected her to speak to him that way.

Connor had been trying to indulge his curiousity about the boy all day. He had slunk about outside of Jude's door, waiting to see if he would emerge, though he'd never did. He'd perked up, even to see Jude when he'd left his room an hour ago. But it didn't matter. Connor didn't matter; the servants didn't matter; the spell didn't matter.

It was just as Connor had always known. He was a beast. Nothing would ever alter the fact that he was a beast, and that his heart was as cold and as black as his father's had been. No one could love him like this. He wasn't worthy to be loved. He was a beast. No one would ever see him any differently. And Jude would never seem him any differently. He should give up now. What was the point of trying?

He made it to the west wing and he paced around the ruins of his bedroom. The furniture lay in smithereens and the curtains billowed in tatters. He crushed things even further with his four powerful paws as he glared about the room. His gaze kept being drawn to the rose that he protectively kept in his room. He hardly allowed his servants to look at it and, the more time that passed, the more obsessive Connor became with keeping it away from them. He didn't want them to realize how close they were to losing it all, though they knew when his birthday was and they knew the deadline.

The rose was glowing softly and it levitated within the glass dome. Connor approached the rose, looking at the petals that lay on the small brown table below the floating green stem. It was dying. Connor wanted to curse or cry; he was never sure which. He wanted to hate the Enchantress, for doing this to him instead of just killing him like she had his father. [BR1] He wanted to hate his father, for raising him this way. He even wanted to hate the mother he had never known, for dying and leaving him. In the end, he just hated himself, because he couldn't do anything but give into his beastly ways. He rose onto his hind legs and gripped the sides of the small table, staring down at the slowly wilting petals. They had less than a year and then this was all permanent. He felt splinters come off against the pads of his paws. As much as he wanted to grab the rose in his hands and shred its remaining petals, he couldn't. He didn't even know if he could. He had tried to smash the Enchantress' mirror once, but magic had protected it. He thought that the rose was probably protected in the same way.

He heard a metallic tapping sound and he waited. That was the sound of Jesus approaching. Over the years, it had become easy for him to differentiate their different ways of walking – if he could call what some of them did walking. Most of them had to hop about now.

"Master?" Jesus called, hitting the door, though not heavily. He couldn't generate enough force to knock properly.

"Enter," Connor said. He turned his back on the rose, hiding it behind his broad back.

Jesus hopped into the room just enough so that they could see one another. Even the servants were uncomfortable in the ruins of the west wing and only Lena, sometimes Stef in her company, could stand in the miserable space for longer than a casual conversation.

"Jude had dinner," Jesus confessed, and he flinched, waiting for Connor's temper.

"I know," was all Connor said, his shoulders sagging forward.

"Brandon and I are taking him on a tour of the castle tomorrow morning. It may be a good idea for you to join us," Jesus suggested. "You could get to know him. It could help with the spell."

"He doesn't want to know me," Connor snapped. "I don't want to hear any more about it!"

"Master –"

"ENOUGH!"

Jesus flinched back, the candles on his hands going out with the force of Connor's roar.

"Leave me!" Connor snapped.

Jesus didn't hesitate. He darted back out the door, which slammed shut behind him. The moment he was gone, Connor deflated again. He grabbed the magic mirror into his paws and made his way out of his room and up onto the roof. It was the space where he could be alone. He settled down and looked down at the silver hand mirror. All it reflected back was his grisly face.

"Show me the boy."

The surface seemed to wobble and stretch, and then the image cleared. Connor was shown a room in his own palace. Jude was seated on the large bed, dressed in the same clothes he'd arrived in and had been wearing all day today. He was chatting with Mariana. It took a moment, but then the mirror also gave him their words.

"You say that," Jude said, "But have you ever left this room?"

There was a sadness in Mariana's eyes. Once upon a time, Mariana had been active and fun. He had practically grown up with her, and he could remember how they had once chased each other across the palace; and how she had once tried to train he, Jesus, and Brandon to be dancers like the ones that sometimes came to his father's court. It had fallen flat; the boys had all seemed to have two left feet.

"The palace is a beautiful place," Mariana said.

Jude confessed, "I just don't want to run into the Beast. I don't want to be afraid of him. I don't like being scared. But … he does. He terrifies me. I'm not brave," Jude finished in a whisper.

Mariana began to answer, but Connor waved the mirror image away. He couldn't bring himself to listen anymore. He terrified Jude. It was something that Connor should have been used to. He was a miniature version of his tyrant father; he was an angry beast. He would never be anything else and no one would ever see him any other way. Nor should they. He crumbled one of the aging shingles in his massive paw and let the pieces roll down the roof.

His servants were foolish to hope.

He curled his worn purple cloak around him, though he no longer needed it for protection from the elements. His fur would keep him more than comfortable on a late fall evening such as this one. He stayed perched on the roof, even as the night continued on. The moon rose and fell before him, but still, Connor couldn't bring himself to move. He stared as the strange shadows of the night turn to dawn. All through the night, the curse was on his mind. By extension, Jude was on his mind. Connor knew that the time to fall in love and have someone love him back was quickly running out. Jude was his last chance. Jude was his only chance, throughout the long years. He could already feel the energy and hope that had the servants thrumming. They wanted to like Jude and be friends with Jude and make him happier here. But no matter how fantastic his servants were, they weren't Connor. Connor was the subject of this curse and his servants had simply been brought down with him.

Jude could love them all and it wouldn't matter; he'd never love Connor.

On tumblr I'm: we are all of legend now (with dashes between every word). If you want to find my replies to anon reviews, add backslash tagged backslash anon dash replies. If you want to see anything I post about Tale As Old As Time, add backslash tagged backslash tale dash as dash old dash as dash time. Note that the punctuation is spelled out due to fanfiction's restrictions. If you have any problems accessing the extra content on tumblr please send me a message and I can help you out!

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~TLL~