Note from the author:
Hello!
I was inspired by the revamped Disney villain, Maleficent. I thought of how another villain would have a redeeming story that made readers feel for them and also wanted to keep the story canon to the movie because Dr. Facilier is a great villain. Therefore, my story takes place before Disney's The Princess and The Frog, before Tiana's story unfolds.
Charlotte La Bouff is my favorite character of the movie and her pairing with Dr. Facilier came from a dream in which I dreamt of a great betrayal falling upon her. From then, the gears started turning in my head, and I thought it would be interesting to write about these two personalities coming together.
It's been forever since my last fic. 2005? I've only written one long fic and never had the heart to finish it. I have a newfound desire to finish this one and have written most of the story out already.
I hope you'll enjoy it and look forward to the ending!
In the bustling city of New Orleans lies a story told over and over again of a prince who turns into a frog and of a princess who kisses him to break the spell. Then they live happily ever after! This famous tale has been passed on for many generations, but let's take it back, back before this tale unfolds. Back to a time where princes are rare and exist in the far off lands of England.
This particular tale centers on the man who cursed the prince. The Shadow Man. This is the very same Shadow Man, driven by his greed, who used everything in his power to obtain his goal no matter what.
Well, once upon a time, this Shadow Man had it all, money, power, and even...love.
It is a cool February day nearing the end of winter in the deep south. Folks of the city don their long coats for a few more months, ready for the warmer weather to signify the end of the chilly season. In The French Quarter, people walk along the cobblestone streets as beautiful French inspired storefronts tower over them. Some of the elaborately styled buildings have balconies on the second, third, and some fourth floors. They stand next to one another with narrow gaps in between, calling out to the curious, or the familiar, as they are guided through the back streets leading them into the underbelly of the city.
The sounds of the road hum off in the distance as voices of passing strangers and footsteps echo down one distinct alleyway ending at a small stone court. A dying tree slumps in the center within the surrounding buildings.
In the dark corner, stands a purple door with strange markings along the walls. All the more strange, a chilling figure punctured with nails occupies the space beside the door. Hanging above the doorway, three skulls perch in front of a sign in the shape of a top hat which reads,
"Dr. Facilier's Voodoo Emporium."
Inside, he sits alone in the shadows of his den, feet propped up on a mahogany desk and back against the old wooden chair probably picked off the street some eons ago. The chair squeaks every time he rocks backward on its two hind legs. His cane, a simple black staff topped with a purple orb, lies across the desk next to his feet.
Curtains hang from the ceiling creating an intimate atmosphere. They meet the bare wooden floors, leading down a middle path to a small stage on which a small round table with three non-matching chairs are placed. Shelves explode with books and voodoo regalia; skulls, drums, small bones, bottles and flasks create cabinets of curiosities.
High above suspended along the curtains are his most prized possessions: his voodoo masks. Each mask is unique in their own way from their different sizes to the different painted patterns. They glower over the stage watching over any soul who dares to enter.
He wears a dark maroon tailcoat with matching slacks and black shoes covered with white spats. Two pieces of sharp teeth hang from his necklace touching the purple waistcoat covering his bare chest. With the warm, humid weather just around the corner in New Orleans, he does not bother with layering a shirt under his vest and exposes his midriff. He dons a red cummerbund to add a bit of sophistication to his look despite his uncovered waist. A skull and crossbones design is tailored onto his matching top hat, and the single feather fastened to it sways back and forth with each rock. The brim covers his eyes.
Dr. Facilier lets out a sigh.
Always plotting his next scheme, he broods over the course of his latest work. The first, striking a deal with a tourist by convincing the innocent fool to trade his pocket watch for a relic that would bring him great luck. Dr. Facilier dangles the newly acquired timepiece in his hand. The relic is actually very unlucky.
The second, tricking a woman into becoming so beautiful that everyone will notice her by making her grow flowers from her head. At least everyone will notice and who doesn't think flowers are beautiful?
Finally, the third and his favorite, giving a singer of the opera the voice of an angel. She so desperately wants the role of prima donna.
"In a way, birds have wings like angels," Facilier chuckles to himself.
He would have enjoyed seeing the performance himself but can only imagine the crowd's horror when she opened her mouth and cawed like a crow.
Turning his attention to the watch that he is now swaying to and fro, he says softly, "Everyone is so vain."
Suddenly, the front door bursts open and standing in the doorframe is the last person he expects to see, Charlotte La Bouff.
The sunlight streams in from the doorway unveiling swirls of dust throughout the parlor. As Facilier's eyes adjust, he sees her standing there in a pink button up blouse traced with frills and a matching knee length skirt. To top it off, a hat adorns her head in the same appalling color.
Her bright blue eyes twinkle, and her yellow hair from under her hat blends in with the rays of the sunlight. She glows like the sun itself. He sees a small blush against her fair skin acquired from her trek down the corridor.
His lips curl into a sneer as he eyes his next prey.
"Hello! Is the Shadow Man here?" Charlotte belts loudly eyes beaming at all the relics. "I reckon I'm in the right place!"
Her southern accent rings throughout the dwelling. Just as his nickname suggests, Facilier glides over to Charlotte, silent as a shadow.
"Enchanté! If it isn't Miss Charlotte La Bouff," he says, taking off his hat revealing his tall mass of black wavy curls.
He bows and says, "I would have never expected to see you here."
When he returns his hat to his head, Facilier circles around her like a shark then kicks the front door closed.
"You see, I have a request! A wish! That is what you do right? Grant wishes? I heard from rumors that you do! Oh! Please tell me you do!" Charlotte sputters excitedly, her eyes sparkling.
With the door closed and the sun no longer present, she continues to shine even in this darkness.
"Rumor also says that you should stay away from the Shadow Man," Facilier says firmly, turning from her, he walks toward a hanging rope and tugs at it.
Above the small stage, drapes pull away from the ceiling revealing the glass skylight overhead. The sunlight pours in reflecting the deep red and purple hues from the different cuts of cloth onto the walls.
Although he prefers to perform his craft with the curtains closed, hiding his secrets, he wants Charlotte to feel at ease, to trust him more. He anticipates her presence may also draw in more customers if people see and hear that the Charlotte La Bouff walked into his voodoo emporium of her own accord. Business is business.
With a snap of a finger, a chair slides under Charlotte who lets out a small yelp and finds herself sitting at the round table across from Dr. Facilier.
"Well..." Charlotte starts hesitantly as she spots a carved mask of a creature with horns above Facilier's head. "You're the only one who can fulfill my wish."
She brings her eyes back to him. Having never actually seen the Shadow Man, Charlotte notices his thin black mustache, long chin, and deep set eyes. His eyes are a vivid shade of purple against his chestnut brown skin. She sees something else, the gap in between his top teeth from his devilish smile.
However, the way he eyes her like she's his next meal makes her shudder.
Shaking her head, Charlotte says, "Look, I know I'm a sight for sore eyes, but are you goin' to help me out or what?"
Blinking, Facilier lets out a low chuckle. He thinks about the past and how Charlotte is just like the handful of noble ladies who sought his help; self-centered and naive.
After looking her up and down, he says, "Let me guess, you wish to be a princess."
The loudest most obnoxious squeal comes out of Charlotte's throat.
"How did you know?" she exclaims her bright blue eyes nearly bulging out of her head.
With a finger in his ear, Facilier replies, "That's a trade secret."
Obviously, it is not. Everyone who knows Charlotte La Bouff in New Orleans, which is just about everyone, knows her most outlandish desire. He does not need to consult his voodoo magic to figure that one out.
Bouncing up and down in her chair, Charlotte asks excitedly, "How do you propose on makin' me a princess?"
The grin comes back onto Facilier's face. He places his hand on his chin pretending to think deeply for his answer.
"How do I propose, you say? Let's see...propose, propose...well, that's it!"
Charlotte stares with wide eyes waiting in anticipation.
He looks her dead in the eyes and says, "Marry me."
The silence is deafening. The two sit staring at one another, one confident and conniving, the other completely stunned.
Charlotte's laugh pierces the tension in the air as she hovers her hand over her mouth.
"What-what in the bees knees are you goin' on about?" she asks in between breaths.
Facilier slams his hand on the table which immediately stops Charlotte's laughter. Realizing his aggression, he eases his hand off the table and holds it out to Charlotte.
"I'm a royal on my mother's side," he explains.
"That doesn't make you a full prince! It doesn't count!" Charlotte rebukes recovered from his sudden reaction.
"Doesn't matter, I'm still royalty," Facilier says, placing his arms behind his head. "Miss Charlotte, princes nowadays are scarce, hard to come by. Do you think one can just appear out of mid-air from some unknown country and whisk you away? I'm the closest one you've got!"
Frowning, Charlotte crosses her arms and says, "Prove it, Shadow Man! I can't just believe your words! In that case, I might as well go an' marry me some stranger off the street!"
But isn't this just the case? Facilier reflects to himself.
"Oh, I can prove it, would you like to speak with my mother?" he asks coolly.
"Oh my gosh! I get to meet her?" Charlotte exclaims, "Wait, how does my hair look?"
Before she has a chance to pat the blonde curls from under her hat, Facilier thrusts a shrunken head onto the table.
Charlotte jolts up, lets out a shriek, and stumbles into the chair behind her. The deep laughter brings her attention to Dr. Facilier who has somehow managed to catch Charlotte, his right hand holding her shoulder and his left against the small of her back. He is much taller than she remembers as she cranes her neck up at him. He looks down and for just a moment, one tiny moment, his purple eyes make her feel exposed.
How rude and childish! She thinks angrily.
Pushing him away, Charlotte shouts, "You're a liar! Why would you do that? Is that how you treat a bride?"
Raising an eyebrow, Facilier repeats, "Bride? So it's a deal then."
He straightens the lapels of his jacket.
"Now hold your horses! I didn't agree to anythin' just yet! You've got one too many screws loose in that head of yours!" She stammers, "You're-you're unbelievable!"
Her face red, Charlotte makes her way toward the door. As she grabs the doorknob, Facilier stops her with his hand over hers. The sudden softness of his touch stops Charlotte who looks up at Facilier.
Smiling and still a little giddy from his abhorrent act, Facilier says, "Miss Charlotte, couldn't you take a little joke?"
"This isn't a joke to me! And how could you say somethin' about your mother like that? You're so...insensitive!" Charlotte barks.
"Well, joke aside, that is my mother."
A gleam catches Charlotte's eye, and she looks back at the table. She spots a small gold crown encircling the shrunken head and for a brief second, she thinks that the head winked at her.
"Oh! Oh my!" Charlotte takes Facilier's hand off of hers and opens the door. "If you'll excuse me! I'm leavin'!"
"Miss Charlotte, about our deal," Facilier's voice trails after her, "I'm askin' you to consider it."
"Don't go holdin' your breath for an answer!" she shouts.
With that, the sway of her skirt disappears around the corner. Facilier can hear the car waiting for her as she slams the door shut, then the engine sputters away.
Smirking and staring off into the corridor, Facilier wonders if his actions were too bold. Shaking his head, he turns around and makes his way back into his den.
"She'll be back," he says laughing quietly to himself.
The door to his parlor slowly closes.
A shadow lingers in the alleyway. The figure takes note of Charlotte La Bouff and slithers its way toward the voodoo emporium.