I need to address something. I don't know if anyone who follows this, read my first version of the story when it was still up. The story at that point was a love triangle between Florence, Forte and an OC. And when I started this remake, it still was intended to include said triangle. Things have changed, though, and now Forte will no longer be included as a love interest. Instead, there'll be another new character to fill his place. Forte will still have a bigger part in this plot, but the interaction between him and Florence will be entirely platonic.

Just wanted to let people know, just in case someone has read the old version, so they won't get confused later on.


The Vision

Florence sat down at the table, the Beast hadn't arrived yet. Florence wondered how her mysterious host could be late to the dinner he himself had invited her to. She looked over the amount of food that had been placed on the table and felt her mouth water. Roasted chicken, sweet potatoes, carrots, potatoes, tomatoes soup and Crème brûlée for dessert. Florence had rarely eaten such delicious food. Her mother had barely earned enough to afford a bit of meat every Sunday. Most of the other days they ate bread and cheese.

Something else that caught Florences attention was the red liquid that filled her rounded glass. She had never tried red wine, or any other kind of wine for that matter. Again, her mother was responsible for that. She remembered her words well: Alcoholic beverages will only cause trouble!

She kind of understood her mother's point, but then again, one glass wouldn't turn her into a drunk, would it? She took the glass into her hand and took a small sip. It didn't taste too least, not as bad as the beer Aunt Annabelle had once let her try.

She put the glass back on the table and looked around. "Where is he now?" she wondered and stood up.

"Where are you going?" Mrs Potts asked.

"I'll be looking for the Beast!" Florence sat and left the dining room. Just when she had exited the room she heard music from above. A somber, gloomy melody, a symphony of dread and despair. No doubt, someone was playing an organ up there. "Could it be...the Master?"

She slowly walked up, heading for the west wing. Once she had arrived in front of a tall door, there was no doubt. That was where the music came from. She gently pushed the door open to peek inside. "Excuse me?" she asked. The music stopped and she looked up. What she saw then almost led her to scream. In front of her was a huge pipe organ. A creepy, mask like face stared down at her. "Who are you?"

"I...um...I..." she stuttered, but the intimidating sight of that instrument made her speechless.

"Florence!"

She turned to the side and spotted the Beast. He angrily glared at her. "Florence, what are you doing here,in the west wing? Didn't I tell you it's forbidden?"

"I..." she gulped, confused about his anger. "I don't think you did, to be honest. Besides, what are you hiding here that-"

"I didn't?! Well, " he stood up and pushed her out. "Now you know. So, why are you here anyway?"

"I was waiting for you. Dinner is getting cold!"

"Din-" the Beast mumbled. "Oh, I almost forgot! Forte!" He turned to the organ. "I won't need you tonight."

"You WHAT?"

"Is there a problem?" the Beast asked.

The organ, Forte, cleared his throat. "No, Master. Of course not."

"Very well." The Beast looked at Florence. She once again stared at the pipe organ. "Shall we, then?" the Beast growled.

"Huh? Oh, of course!"

Both of them walked back down to the dinen room. Forte scowled.

"He won't need me? I knew this day would come. Some...some...girl comes along and Forete is no longer important."

"B-but Maestro, it's just tonight."

"Oh, now it's just tonight, but just wait a few weeks and that hussy will have him wrapped around her skinny fingers, Fife."

"You really think she'd do that?" Fife asked, looking up to his Maestro.

"I know! They are all the same! We need to think! Think of a plan to rid ourselves of that brat!"


Florence had eaten more than ever before. Now she felt perfectly stuffed. "It was delicious. I can't wait for tomorrow night."

"I...I hope being near me didn't disgust you too much. You said my appearance doesn't bother you, but I know you just said it to spare my feelings. You don't need to. I don't deserve it. I know, what I am. A hideous, monstrous Beast, not worth being loved or even being pitied. I deserve every second of my suffering!"

Florence looked at him, confusion in her sapphire eyes. "Don't be silly. I said it, 'cause I meant it!" She gently put a hand on his arm. "In my old village there was a man. He was a true monster. Everyone adores him for his good looks, strength, his bravery and hunting skills, however he truly is not worth the love and praise. I saw him beat up a man for a little bit of money. And then he still had the nerve to ask for my hand in marriage. No! Not ask, demand!"

"He sounds...horrible..."

"He was...I hope one day he will get what he deserves."

"Me too!" the Beast said darkly. "Oh, how I wish I could be the one to deliver it to him!"

For a moment Florence thought she recognized something in his eyes: A memory.

Maybe the Beast had known someone like Gaston...someone who never got what he deserved. Suddenly she saw the dining room disappear and turn into a different room. A throne room, where a handsome young man sat on his thrones, a frown on his haughty face. He looked down at another young man who was held down by two strong guards. The prisoner himself didn't seem to old, but Florence could not see his face properly. He had dark brown curls that his his face, which faced the ground.

"You disgust me!" the Prince said. "A criminal, part of my court? No way!" he sneered. "Guards, take that scum to the tower and let him rot! It's Christmas eve and I have no time to be bothered with some execution. We will arrange that after the holidays are over!"

Before Florence could react, the world blurred once again and she found herself back in the dining room, the Beast looking at her in confusion.

"Wh...what just happened?" Florence muttered.

"What do you mean? You just sat there...staring at nothing. I asked if something was wrong, but you didn't respond."

"I...I was in a throne room. There was a prince...he sentenced some man to death...on Christmas eve..."

Suddenly the Beast stood up, an anxious expression on his face. "What?"

"Maybe it's because of those..." she looked at her hands. "Those magical abilities I now posses. Do...do you know what that vision could mean?"

"No!" the Beast shouted, making Florence flinch in response. The Beast looked at her, upset. "I...I need to go back to my room! And...and you should go back to yours!" Immediately, he rushed off, out of the room.

"Oh my," Mrs Potts said. "I hoped this evening would end on a more positive note!"

"I...why is he so upset? He does know what happened, doesn't he?" Florence asked, grimly looking at the chair the Beast had sat on.

"My dear, this is something you should ask him." Mrs Potts said, her eyes gleaming with concern.

"But you heard him!"

"When he's ready! Anyway, it's getting rather late, child. Maybe you should go to bed now."

Florence sighed, but then she relented, stood up and walked out of the door, up to her room.

On her way she met Lumiere, Cogsworth and Babette, who all asked her about the dinner. Florence told them all that happened, including the strange vision. Immidiately, all of them turned pale.

"Oh...no..." Babette whispered.

"It was the day...the day we were cursed!"

"Lumiere!" Cogsworth scolded his friend. "Be quiet! We shouldn't talk about it. Neither the curse, nor that...man..."

Florence really longed to know who that man could have been, but she realized that she wouldn't recieve an answer tonight, so she turned her attention to a more pleasant topic. "Talking about Christmas eve...it's merely a week from now. Og, I've always wanted to know how Christmas in a castle is like."

The three servants gasped. "Florence...our Master hates Christmas! It was the day..."

"...you were cursed, I know. But it's not the holidays fault, is it? The Beast should direct his anger at the responsible person, the Enchantress." Florence said, shaking her head. "He shouldn't ruin the joy for everybody else. Christmas is, after all, a time of hope."

"Maybe it is to you." Cogsworth muttered. "To us it is a time of sorrow and memories of better days long gone.

"I don't know, Cogsworth. A little celebration to lighten our darkness seems like an opportunity.," Lumiere said with a melancholy smile.

"Oh, yes," Babette giggled. "Don't you remember, Lumiere? Our first kiss was underneath a mistletoe." She put her head on his shoulder and gave her a gentle look.

Cogsworth however merely shook his head. "I'm sorry, Florence. The Master wouldn't want that."

"Since when do you speak for him?"

"I know him. Much longer than you do. He. Hates. Christmas!"

"Then I. Will. Help. Him. Love. It. Again!" Florence answered, her hands on her hips."

"I can assure you, my dear. You nor any other girl on this world, no matter how kind, smart or beautiful she might be, will ever convince him to give Christmas a chance!" Cogsworth huffed, turned around and walked off.

"Well, what about a secret Christmas party, just for the servants." Lumiere suggested. "We don't have to tell Cogsworth either, he can be such a tattle tale."

"Or Nicole!" Florence said. "She seems insufferable, from what I can tell. "

"She is!" Babette said. "No one really likes her, so I sometimes spend time with her, I kinda feel sorry for her. She is just so immature and vain. Always talks about how beautiful she used to be."

"True. Anyway, if we do this, then we need to prepare all we need. We've just got a week."

"Ohoho, don't worry, mon ami! We will take care of everything. I can't wait. We haven't celebrated in years!" Lumiere cheered, as the three of them walked off, to Florences room.

Unknown to them, a slender feather duster stood in the shadows, behind the corner, teeth clenched and tears in her eyes.

"How dare these peasants talk behind my back like this. That two faced Babette and her annoying lover. And that disgusting, useless, worthless, pathetic, ugly Florence!" she shrieked to herself. "Why can't she just leave..." Nicole sighed, her lips turned into a pout. Suddenly, she got struck by an idea. "Very well, it is merely a week until Christmas," she said with a cruel smirk, "and I think I just thought of the perfect gift."