Chapter 2 - Waking Up

At the age of five, the young Prince was light on his feet and well on his way to becoming an excellent dancer. He was very smart for his age, and learning fast. His mother was immensely proud and was convinced that as he grew and learnt more, he would accomplish great things. For his birthday, which had been in the ballroom, he had been given a story book, filled with colourful illustrations and countless fairy tales.

He asked his mother if she would read it to him in bed the night he got it, and she was happy to oblige. And she continued to read that same book of fairy tales to him every night.

One night, at the dinner table, just before his bath and bed time, his mother asked "Would you like me to read something different to you tonight?"

The young Prince didn't even take a second to think before answering "No thank you, mother. I love listening to you read the fairy tales." He replied sweetly.

His father, who was sitting at the far opposite end of the table, and a rather large distance from the two of them, scoffed audibly.

His mother frowned at his father, but he took no notice as he continued eating. The young Prince didn't seem to notice either, his naive child mind had assumed that his father was having trouble swallowing his food.

"Perhaps when you're a little older you can try reading that book to me." She suggested, shifting her attention off her husband and back onto her son.

"I'd like that." He agreed "It's my favourite book."

"Really? I didn't realise!" his mother joked.

He giggled "What's your favourite book, mother?"

"My favourite book? Hmm... Well, it would definitely have to be Guinevere and Lancelot." She replied.

"King Arthur and the Round Table." His father corrected her from across the table.

"Well, yes, but the romance between Guinevere and Lancelot makes up most of it." She responded to him.

"I don't like that book all that much."

"Of course you wouldn't." She replied, somewhat harshly.

"It's a love story?" The young Prince chimed in.

"It certainly is." She told him. "I think you would like it very much."

"If you like it then I think I'll like it too!" He exclaimed. It was true, he liked most things that his mother liked, as he was so close to her. "Will you read it to me?"

"I'd love to. In fact, I'll teach you how to read it and then we can take turns reading a few chapters to each other."

"You'll ruin that boy." His father commented. "You should be reading educational books to him, not fairy tales and nonsense."

"'That boy'? Have a bit more respect for your son." She retorted. "And besides, he's only five. He can start reading educational books when he's older."

"He should start young. That's how I did it."

"Well he's not you, is he?"

"Please don't fight." The young Prince butted in once again.

"Oh we're not honey. Your father and I just can't agree on how we should be teaching you. But don't you worry about it, we'll figure it all out. We have plenty of time, as you're still growing!"

"He'll stop growing if he doesn't eat his vegetables." His father commented rather dryly.

"He's right. Go on, eat up." She coaxed him in to carrying on with his dinner.

The young Prince sighed. He hated the vegetables. He'd try sneaking some to Wilfred if his mother wasn't watching him. He picked up his fork and began prodding them. After a few minutes of silence while he poked his vegetables, and his parents continued eating, the young Prince spoke up once more, after his mind had been allowed wander and think about his fairy tale filled book.

"Mother..." He began, catching her attention.

"Yes dear?"

"Are the stories from my book real?" He asked.

"Don't be ridiculous." His father interrupted.

His mother scowled at him, scalding her husband with a glare "Ignore your father. There is some truth behind some stories, so if you think those stories are real, then you might just be right."

"So magic could be real? And wizards and witches and fairies?"

"Don't forget woodland pixies!"

"You're filling his head with nonsense." His father stated gruffly.

She ignored him and stroked her son's blonde hair "Pay no attention to him, Adam. Your father's just grumpy after a long day of royal duties." She told him, turning to look at her husband.

His father did not respond, instead, he placed down his cutlery, wiped his mouth with a napkin and proceeded to withdraw from the dining room "Enjoy your bed time story, Adam" he said as he exited.

Magic was one of the first things his father made him stop believing in. There were many other things that he had once loved that he now deemed as childish and silly, after his father twisted his view of the world.

But perhaps, after coming face to face with the Enchantress, he would start believing in the existence of magic once more.

Darkness. A never ending void of black, created by his tightly closed eyelids.

He felt numb. He could barely feel anything, not his body, not the space around. Nothing.

Where was he? He remembered dancing with the young maidens and then... And then something happened. Why couldn't he remember?

His head hurt. At least he was starting to regain some feeling, slowly but surely. It wasn't a welcoming feeling, but he'd take it nonetheless. He opened his eyes, fluttering his eyelids briefly. His vision was blurred, the only thing he could see was a sort of... Greyness. He then came to realise that he was lying down, his face pressed against the cold, marble floor.

He must have collapsed. But why?

He pushed himself off the ground so that he was kneeling. Dazed and confused, he glanced around, noticing that he was still in the ballroom. The only difference was that it was absent of people, and the candles on the chandeliers had been snuffed out. His only source of light was the pale, silver moon that he could see through the windows.

A chill ran down his spine. The double doors behind his throne were wide open, allowing rain to pour in, and gusts of wind to blow in brown, autumn leaves.

Aside from the raging storm outside, the room was deathly silent.

The pain was what hit him first. The numbness faded, and he suddenly found himself in excruciating agony, and keeled over. His head throbbed, and his body felt like it was being struck by thousands of arrows that would pierce his flesh. It all started to come flooding back to him, the old woman, the rose, the beautiful enchantress and then...

There was something she had said to him, but at the time he hadn't been able to take it all in. Her angelic voice and words seemed to echo in his mind, but he couldn't make out what the words meant. They just sounded like a quiet, lingering whisper, which he couldn't focus on due to all of the pain he was experiencing.

He remembered experiencing the same amount of pain that same night, before he had passed out. But what he had gone through was much worse than what he was going through now. It had been agonising. In that moment, he had wished death upon himself, hoping that it would allow him to escape that hellish nightmare that had unfortunately been his reality.

The pain was starting to subside now. It had come in a short burst, and left as quick as it arrived. Perhaps it had just been an after effect of whatever the enchantress had done to him.

He felt off. Something was definitely wrong with him, but he couldn't figure out what, as he was still coming to his senses.

His head felt heavy, like there was an added weight that was keeping him from lifting it easily. He knew it couldn't be his powdered wig, so what was it?

He lifted his hand to touch the top of his head, but stopped himself halfway way when he caught sight of what should have been his hand. His blood ran cold. What he was looking at was a large paw, covered with thick, brown fur, and had long, sharp claws. He glanced at his other hand, or rather, other paw, only to see that it looked the same.

This wasn't real. It couldn't be.

The thick, brown fur that covered his paw ran up his arm. Worst of all, it didn't stop there, as once he looked down at himself, his fears were realised, as his entire body was covered in the same fur. He was starting to breath heavily now, taking quick, sharp intakes. He had become panic stricken.

Shreds of his clothing hung from his body, while other ripped pieces lay scattered around him. He quickly reached up, trying to avoid looking at his hand - he refused to call it a paw, he wouldn't allow himself to - this time round, and touched his wig, which was sitting skew-whiff on top of his head and threatening to fall off at any given time. That didn't make sense, that wig had been specially made for him and was designed to fit his head and his head alone.

He pulled it off and stared at it for a moment. Why did his head still feel so heavy?! What was going on?!

He dropped the wig and reached up again, his fingers coming into contact something that he could only assume was more fur, which seemed much longer, and ran down to the back of his neck. He then came into contact was something hard.

His eyes widened in shock as he allowed his fingers to trace the foreign object sticking out of his head. He reached up with his other hand and found another just like. Once he had figured out there shape, he soon knew what they were, but he didn't want to believe it.

He wrapped his hands around them both and yanked at them with all his might. It hurt him. He had hoped that by some miracle that they'd come off if he tugged hard enough, but no matter how much he pulled, they simply would not budge.

They were horns. He had horns, two massive horns... Growing out of his head.

This had to be a dream. Any second now, he'd wake up, and it will have all been a figment of his imagination. He refused to believe that any of it was real.

He slowly lowered his hands, trembling with fright as he stared at them. They were... They were paws. He couldn't deny that.

There was something else, something other than the horns that were bugging him. He felt like there was something trailing behind him, but he didn't dare look. He didn't want to explore his body anymore, he just wanted to close his eyes and will this nightmare to be over.

But he had to know. He had to see it, he had to know that what he was assuming was correct. He turned his head slightly and let out a horrified gasp when he caught sight of his new appendage. He had been expecting it, but nothing could have prepared him for that.

He had a tail.

He grabbed hold of it and pulled it closer so that he could examine it briefly. It was definitely a tail, there was no doubt about that. A lion's tail to be precise.

He didn't care what kind of tail it was. He let go of it and turned away. He couldn't bear to look at it anymore.

This... This was insane.

Everything about his body felt so real. Maybe... Maybe it wasn't a dream.

He thought about his face. What had happened to his face? How could he want to and not want to know simultaneously? He felt so conflicted. He was scared. He feared the worst.

"Master?" The familiar voice of Lumiere spoke out "Master, are you alright?" He asked, his voice thick with concern.

He looked up, where he assumed Lumiere would be as he was still knelt on the floor, but he wasn't. "Down here, Master." He beckoned him.

He glanced down, and almost jumped back in shock when he saw a small, somewhat human-looking candlestick staring up at him.

Had he gone mad?

"Master, can you hear me at all?" The candlestick asked. It was definitely Lumiere, he'd know that voice anywhere.

"Lumiere? What happened to you?" He asked. His own voice startled him. It was deeper, gruffer, and there seemed to a growl emitting from his throat. He barely recognised it.

"It was the enchantress, she turned all of the servants into objects, and turned you into-" he stopped himself, refusing to go any further.

He looked around, noticing a clock, feather duster, teapot, teacup, piano, and wardrobe gathered in the far corner of the room. If they were indeed the servants, then why were they still over there? Why was Lumiere the only one who had dared to venture over?

...Were they afraid of him?

That's when he remembered everything that had happened, it hit him like a ton of bricks. The enchantress' voice, whispering in the back of his mind, the words became clear to him. He was taken back to the moment when the transformation was over, when he had collapsed, barely able to remain conscious.

Pain rushed through him as he lifted his head to meet eyes with the enchantress. She dropped the rose in front of him, similar to the way he had thrown it back at her when she had the appearance of an old hag.

"You have been transformed into a beast." She told him. "The rose I offered you is enchanted. Eventually, it will start to wilt, and the petals will fall. If you can learn to love another and earn their love in return before the last petal falls, the spell will be broken. But if not, then you will be doomed to live as a beast forever."

She paused for a moment, the golden light around her starting to fade "I hope for your sake as well as you servants that you will be able to do so." There was a hint of remorse in her voice.

"I've cast a spell on your mirror, it will allow you to see everything your heart desires. It will serve as your window to the outside world. I also bestow upon you this enchanted book. It will allow you to go anywhere in the world and truly allow you to escape."

He opened his mouth, but no words came out.

"Don't try to speak. You'll only make things worse." She told him. "I must leave you now. Good luck, young Prince. May we meet again... Someday."

"Master, is there anything I can do for you?" Lumiere asked, snapping him out of his trance.

He lowered his head and clenched his fist. "Bring me a mirror." He replied, in a low, rumbling growl.

"I don't think that's wise, I think you need to take a minute to think and get your head straight." Lumiere responded, his voice trembling a little.

"I told you to bring me a mirror!" He shouted, scaring the candlestick. "Don't make me ask again." He said, in a quieter tone.

Lumiere hesitated for a moment before walking away. He returned not long after, dragging the Prince's mirror using his wrists, as his hands had been replaced by candles. He put it down in front of him and backed away, giving him some space.

He reached out and grabbed the handle of the mirror, his large paw covering the entire surface. His arm trembled as he held it up, unsure if he should go through with it. He stared at the back of the mirror, unsure if he wanted to turn it around and see his reflection.

He closed his eyes and exhaled deeply, calming himself and steadying his arm. In one swift motion, he opened his eyes and flipped the mirror round. What he saw was far worse than he could ever have imagined.

Before the dance, when he had looked in the mirror, the face that he had seen was a young, handsome prince, done up in the finest make up and powdered wig. But the reflection that stared back at him now was that of a monster. A Beast. Brown fur sprouted from every pore on its face. Sharp, hideous fangs stuck out from its closed lips. Its nose was flat, with large pink nostrils, similar to that of a buffalo. The only thing he recognised was its bright blue eyes, that made him fully realise that the monstrous face in the mirror... Was his own.

Beast reached up to touch his face but stopped himself.

Staring at his reflection, he could feel his anger starting to boil over. The monster locked away inside of him rattled in its cage. He snarled, and the image in the mirror took on the form of a crazed animal, his lips curled back to reveal two rows of hideous teeth.

Unleashing his fury, he slammed the mirror against the floor, but surprisingly enough it did not shatter.

Beast attempted to rise, but his feet, or rather paws, slipped on the marble floor. It took a great amount of effort, but eventually, he managed to stand up. He swayed for a moment, as his balance was completely off. His legs threatened to buckle underneath him and his bulky physique. He didn't realise how tall he was now until he stood at his full height.

He glanced down at himself, noticing the shreds of his ballroom attire still clinging to his body. He then looked at Lumiere, who was staring up at him with an expression of pure horror. His oldest friend... Was afraid of him.

Beast turned and ran out of the room. He bounded upstairs, falling onto his front paws on the way up. Instead of correcting himself, he continued to scramble upwards on all fours, towards the west wing, to his room. He had to get away. He couldn't let his servants see him like this. He couldn't bear it.

He burst through the door to his room, put himself in an upright position and slammed the door behind him. Breathing heavily, he turned, only to be greeted by his monstrous face, which he could see in the mirror hanging across the room.

He slowly approached the mirror, that gave him a clear view of his head and upper body. The horns that he had traced with his fingers earlier resembled that of a goat, or perhaps an antelope.

He stared at his face once more. There was a look of sorrow in those human eyes. Those same eyes stung, and he quickly blinked back the tears. He turned away from the mirror, only to be greeted by his old face. There was a portrait of him on the wall. The artist had captured his likeness so perfectly.

He stared at his portrait and then back at the mirror. He then looked at the portrait again, at his too-human looking face. Those bright blue eyes stared down at him, mocking him.

He let out an angered cry, that sounded more like a roar as it escaped his lips. He raised his paw and raked his claws across the portrait, tearing through the canvas.

He glanced back at the mirror once more, reaching up and taking hold of the remaining pieces of his ballroom attire and ripping it off of his body and throwing it to the ground. Enraged by his appearance, he charged at the mirror, punching it, cracking the surface. Using his claws, he pulled the shards from the frame, piece by piece, until he could no longer see his reflection.

Still seething with rage and looking for something else to take his anger out on, his eyes scanned the room, noticing that there were more portraits hanging from the walls. Why were there so many?! Did he really love himself that much?

He stomped towards a family portrait, and stared at the picture of himself. The young, innocent boy posing alongside his parents had been a ghost to his former self, and more so now. It had been a long time since that face had stared back at him in the mirror. It seemed like another life, a completely different person. He wondered what his younger self would think if he saw how he turned out. He would be horrified.

His claws glided through the canvas far too easily.

The former Prince looked up at the image of his father, the King, captured in a moment where he wasn't angry or utterly disappointed. He looked down at himself once more, at the thick fur that now covered his body and the massive claws on the end of his fingers. Is this what his father wanted?

No. Not by a mile.

He didn't want to be reminded of how much of a failure he was.

He clawed his father's face out of the picture, so that he'd no longer have to look at his judgemental eyes. He then lifted his paw once again but stopped himself when he saw his mother's face, her bright blue eyes that matched his. No, not her, she had done nothing wrong. She didn't deserve to be defaced. She had delayed the inevitable, kept him pure, given him a happy childhood for as long as possible. He thanked her for that.

Beast staggered backwards, his anger beginning to subside. Seeing his mother's face had calmed him. He looked over to the balcony, and saw the rose the enchantress had left him, on a pedestal, surrounded by a glass case. She must have put it there, for safe keeping perhaps. Or maybe just to torment him more, as he'd be able to see it from his bed, so he would wake up to that sight every morning. A constant reminder of the curse besides his own body.

He walked up to it and placed his paw on top of the case. He stared at the rose, its red petals in full bloom. He could already picture them falling off, one by one.

He touched his face, running his fingers down it. He already missed it, his old appearance. He wanted it back more than anything. How would he ever be able to return to his human form? Who could ever love him like this?

Would he ever be human again? Or was he truly doomed to live as a beast... Forever?

He looked around the room at the broken mirror and ripped portraits. What had he done? What was he turning into? He sank to his knees and cradled his head in his paws, ashamed of his appearance. Ashamed of the Beast that he had already become.

A/N - If you've read those two shorts I wrote a few weeks ago that I titled 'Beast Shorts' (creative name, I know) then you've probably noticed that this chapter is one of those shorts, reworked to fit into this story, with several additions. Not much needed tweaking as I thought it seemed rather fitting on its own, and I had this type of story in mind for it when I was writing that short. The only differences are the flashback at the beginning (the fairy tale book is going to be important later, or at least be apart of the plot), the ripping of the family portrait, and less exposition in the tiny flashback to the Enchantress.

So I've been looking at my story plan and there's going to be around 10 to 15 chapters before Belle arrives at the castle. I won't be including boring bits like 'what Beast had for breakfast one morning' or 'how Beast goes about brushing his teeth' (though I don't think he ever did brush them). My number one rule for myself is that something meaningful needs to happen for a chapter to even be made. Oh and once we reach the plot of the movie, it won't be the exact same thing, word for word. That would be predictable. And you could just go watch the movie instead of just reading it in story form. I want to develop some ideas and scenes presented in the film, change dialogue, make an even bigger connection between Beast and Belle. I look forward to showing it to you.

But until then we have 10 to 15 chapters of character development! I don't intend to drag it on for too long so it will probably be closer to 10 chapters. Probably an uneven number like 11.

Let me know what you think of this chapter and I shall see you next week!