I do not own American Horror Story: Freak Show.

But I couldn't not write after seeing that picture.

Beauty and the Beast: A Freak Show Fairytale

Run-In With the Queen

"So, Angel, gonna follow in your mother's footsteps and open a Mystic Miss tent?"

Angelica absently brushed her silky tresses out of her face and rolled her eyes at Elsa Mars and her heaving bosom.

"Ugh, no. Pretending to read the future when all you have to do is look on their faces and read everything they want to hear. It's stupid."

Elsa shrugged.

"Easy money, though. Rubes will believe anything a fortuneteller sees in the crystal ball and smoke."

Angel shook her head.

"No."

Elsa set down her broom and folded her arms.

"Well then, my dear, what are you going to do? You can't expect us to support you forever while you run around with your puppy dog sniffing your ass all day."

Angel glared at her, instantly furious.

"He does NOT do that!"

Elsa's emergent smile was slow and cruel.

"Oh please, my dear, it's nothing to be ashamed of. You should be quite proud," Elsa continued loftily. "It is every woman's dream to have a pet she can train on command."

Angelica's face was hot as her fury burned.

"Maybe you do but I don't! And he is not my pet! He's my friend! And he's got his own brain to think with!"

She was so sick and tired of that kind of thinking about Michael. Even after six months with Ethel Darling's Carnival of Wonders, a few of the more snide of their troupe still jabbed at them with their words.

Their words and their eyes.

Sly, sneaky, sulky eyes.

Like Elsa's.

As sly as her snakes'.

"Sure, sure. He can say or do whatever he wants so long as he checks with his . . ."

Here Elsa used a derogatory word common amongst carnies and other people of free speech to describe specific female anatomy. Still, it was so offensive to Angelica that it made her want to vomit.

". . . first."

Then gasped as Angelica Mayweather stepped forward. Hauled off.

And slapped the hateful smile right off the woman's leering face.

And Elsa's own anger exploded.

"How dare you raise a hand to me, you little bitch! I am your superior! I was astounding crowds since before you were a stain on your father's underwear!"

And snatching up her abandoned broom, she proceeded to beat the girl with it with a vengeance.

"You little brat! You are only mad because I speak the truth and everyone who can see you knows it!"

The rough bristles scratched at her face, tangled in her hair, yanking her head painfully.

"I will beat you from this carnival and you and your filthy dog can live in the woods and you can bear his four-legged, shaggy whelps!"

Angelica cried out, trying to stumble away.

Only managing to fall over chairs set up for the evening's big top performance.

Which served to flare Elsa's already out of control rage.

"Get off those! I'll have to pick them back up again! I just finished cleaning this tent!"

And then the broom stopped its barrage and Angelica heard a female scream that was not her own.

"Ahhh! Give that back, you mutt!"

She looked up through the tangled curtain of her hair.

And saw him.

Michael.

Holding up the broom in one hand.

Menacingly toward the cowering figure of Elsa Mars.

Lips pulled back in a silent growl, teeth bared, eyes murderous.

Barely more than a boy. But ready to take on anybody and anything.

For her.

Angelica's trembling hand reached out for him then wretched back as Ethel Darling stormed into the tent.

"What the hell's going on here?!" she demanded. "All this shouting and screaming!"

Then she laid eyes on the broomwielder himself.

"Michael! Put that down!"

His nostrils flared in response to her voice and his fingers tightened further around the broom handle until his knuckles stood out white.

"I said now, son."

The three of them at a standoff, Angelica recuperating behind her protector.

She finally laid a hand on his back.

The muscles there were taut, ready to lunge.

But at her touch, he turned.

"It's okay," she whispered. "Put it down, it's okay."

He released the broom and it thwacked to the big top floor as he reached out.

And wrapped his arms protectively around her.

Hands in her hair, breathing still harsh and rough with anger.

She felt herself calming in his embrace.

"Now somebody tell me what's going on," Ethel commanded.

Elsa folded her arms across her bosom.

"They attacked me. That bitch and her muttdog," she spat, German accent thick with disdain.

Angelica felt Michael tense again but she clutched him tighter so he could not pull away.

They never made any sort of trouble for anyone in the camp.

Aside from their absolute and complete refusal to be separated.

Ethel was understandably suspicious.

"They attacked you. For no good reason," she summarized drily. "The girl and the boy."

Elsa nodded curtly, now committed to her poor fabrication.

"And you did nothing to them first."

Another curt nod of affirmation.

Ethel turned to the pair.

Michael, smoothing Angelica's hair with his rough hands.

Angelica glaring at the sneaky snake charmer.

"Angelica?"

Angelica redirected her attention to Ethel while Michael's worried expression zeroed in on her scratched face.

"She called Michael a 'dog'," she said simply, trying to control her emotions. "And said other bad things. I slapped her."

Ethel raised her eyebrows calmly and looked back to Elsa for remonstration.

The red splay-handed mark on Elsa's face confirmed the strike but not the reason.

"Well?"

Ethel Darling waited. Elsa Mars clenched her jaw and jutted out her chin defiantly.

"I may have said something along that vein," she relented casually, now directing her attention to the blood red fingernails of one raised hand.

Ethel took a long, slow, deep breath.

And let it out just as slow.

"You two leave," she directed to Angelica and Michael.

Her voice brooked no argument.

They went, fingers intertwined as was their norm.

Ethel watched them go, her face blank, broad marble.

When they were alone, she looked back at Elsa.

Who commenced to attempt to stare her down.

"Well, what are you going to do about them?" Elsa demanded.

Ethel folded her arms across her chest, outwardly calm and collected.

"Nothing."

Elsa's face was a picture of outrage.

She opened her mouth to speak but Ethel cut her off.

"And neither are you. Just leave them alone, Elsa. Or I'll see to it myself that you get your walking papers."

And then Ethel Darling left the big top, leaving Elsa Mars alone with her rage and no one to throw it at.

Except the filtering sun beams. And dust motes.

And they didn't really seem to care at all.

The nerve.

So maybe Elsa's still Elsa, even here, huh? As if she could be anyone else.

Anyway, thanks to midnightrebellion86 and anonymouscsifan for continuing those encouraging reviews. :)