by D.K. Archer
Based off the Fairy Tale
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Chapter 2
I watched the confrontation from my perch in the mouth of a silently screaming gargoyle, and my hopes sink. He had been doing so well! The beast, after a fine evening of being kind in regards to another human being, was ready to kill his guest now for something so simple as a rose! I had thought he was finally beginning to understand, was finally becoming more human. But now...
A rose. To him they were the incarnation of beauty itself. He had always been obsessed with what was beautiful, especially inanimate beauty that did not flee in terror from his horrible appearance. Thus he ordered me to create statues, find flowers for the garden, rebuild this wretched home into a palace of his styled choosing. He saw the taking of a single flower a crime punishable by death.
The Beast has earned his title.
There once was a time he was called Little Prince. Long past, when he was a child, and the servants that had been sent with to care for him still held enough loyalty to their king to do as they were told. Soon they found the king did not care what became of his horrible little son, and began to ignore him. They strayed from his princely studies and showed him how to hunt and kill to feed himself, how to be as self sufficient as any animal can be expected to be. In this sudden abandonment he became poorly tempered, and those forced to endure him called him a beast. With this new development the servants hardly cared weather he lived or not, and left him here, alone. He had to be starved for human comfort.
The demand he made of the merchant surprised me. It had never occurred to me that the beast would want a human girl in the house. Or was he really so cruel as to kill her on arrival? I cringed at the possibilities that flitted thru my mind. This beast was, after all, at least twenty five years old now, and had no contact with any woman since his servants left him. Did he even understand the concept of what a human female was? I must admit, I hadn't thought much on the idea. I suppose you assume a man knows these things even when he has not been taught. So what could he have in mind for her?
I never quite understood what occurred in the mind of this beast. No, not a beast. I can't think of him that way if ever this dependency is to end. He was a man, just a poor and ill raised one. And that was largely my fault. He was my responsibility. If only I had not committed such a crime! I had done harm to an unborn child, injured an innocent life to punish it's parents. The boy had done no wrong, and the circumstances of his birth were not his choosing. Yet I had cursed him! I turned him into this animal monster, and for my crime I was executed. The boy, the Little Prince, was sent away to the royal retreat with a handful of servants to raise him. They didn't want anything to do with the child; they hated this monstrosity.
To this role I suddenly awoke, jarred from my death to the body of a common bird. My punishment, I suppose. I forced myself to relearn the magic I had mastered as a human, but I could only talk to the boy now, in words that were not words, only thoughts that could be heard. My powers were at his command.
And here I am now. The old witch that cursed a prince is now his servant. Fitting, no?
I watched the merchant leave to fill his box, and I obeyed the beast's command to swiften the horse. The animal had no qualms with the arrangement, as he was a good and devoted soul, and was happy to better serve his master. The instantly lost merchant fumbled his way to the storage vaults where any bauble I found no use for was placed. He quickly filled the box with jewels and fineries, and loaded it onto the horse.
"Don't forget your rose." the beast said coldly, standing with his arms crossed. The merchant nervously picked it from the ground where he had dropped it, and slid onto his horse. I opened the exterior gate for him and he seemed to vanish. Such was the speed of the animal!
The gate echoed shut. I flew from my hiding place in the gargoyle's mouth and landed on the upper tier of the fountain, letting the water splash over my claws and thinking in an absent way of the stream that ran by my old cottage. It had been cool and clear, and perhaps it was just the rainbow haze of memory but it seemed to be so much more so when the old king reigned, before taxes and this terrible...unpleasantness.
_What will you do with the girl, when he brings her?_ I asked the beast, after much time had lapsed into silence.
"It is none of your concern." he growled. I held ground, not intimidated by this act.
_It is my concern. Everything within these walls in my concern. Every act you commit is my concern. What will you do with her?_
"She will stay. I won't harm her."
_And if he does not bring her?_
"He will die."
The hooves of the merchant's horse clattered over the worn grey stones of the cottage path. The sound reached the ears of the girl making the noon day meal in the warm kitchen. Beauty glanced out the curtainless window, and in an instant her face lit brightly as a crystal set in the stonework. She vanished from the window for but a moment and he saw her next bolting from the door, colorless skirt held up in her fists. Barely had he a foot down from his horse when she threw her arms around his neck and covered his cheeks with kisses.
"What's wrong?" she asked, when he didn't respond. The merchant pressed the red rose into his daughter's hand and sighed heavily. "Papa? Has something happened?"
The boys, from their scattered locations about the property, arrived with grins and embraces, and the two girls not long after. Concerned questions came in only moments, and they made his heart ache.
"Allright, allright." he finally conceded. "Lets go inside, I'll tell you everything."
That much he did. He told them of the cargo being taken away by taxes and the sailor's wages, of becoming lost, of the odd tunnel that led him to the gates of the beast's home. And finally, of his unforgivable crime of stealing a flower from the garden.
"But what will happen?" Annabella asked. "What will he do to you when you return?"
"I'm...I'm afraid he will kill me, my dear."
"For a rose?" she squeaked.
He nodded sadly. Alexandra began to cry, burying her face in her palms, and Annabella followed.
"This is wrong, we won't allow it!" the eldest brother said, crossing his arms angrily. "He can't kill you for a rose! You won't go back there, father!"
"He'll track me down if I don't, and then all of you are endangered."
"Then let us go kill the beast!" the youngest said. "We can rally men from the village and storm his palace! He can hardly fight all of us off, can he?"
"If it were only a beast, I could agree with you. But he possesses magic!" the merchant said sadly. "If you assaulted his home he could merely materialize boiling oils above your heads and scald you to death. I won't have any of you endangered."
Beauty sighed softly, looking at the rose still held in her hand.
"Terrible girl!" Annabella sobbed "your the cause of our father's death and you don't shed a single tear!"
"It would be quite useless to do so. For he won't die."
"Beauty, don't--"
"He will not die because I will take his place." she continued. "The beast said he would accept one of us in exchange, did he not?"
"No!" shouted the eldest son. "Please, father, let us kill the monster! The world would be better off without a creature such as that!"
"You will do nothing of the sort. I gave him my word I would return, and I will be good to my promises. I only came back to say goodbye."
"Then don't say it." Beauty replied, growing more firm in her resolve.
"Beauty--"
"No, listen to me, Papa. This beast you spoke of cannot be wholly evil. He sheltered you when you were lost, fed you, clothed you, for nothing in return. And even when you stole from him he sent you away with a trunk of jewels to keep your family after your death. He can't be half so horrible as all that."
Her father chuckled, in spite of himself. "How like you to see the good in the creature. But Beauty, he is a monster! He can't possibly have good intentions for you!"
"I have learned not to judge people by their appearance."
"My dear, he is not simply ugly, he is an animal! You cannot judge an animal by the means you judge a man."
"Could an animal talk? stand upright? value a rose for it's beauty? No. He must be a man, then, and no men are entirely evil."
"This one is. No child of mine will go to their death for a rose!"
Beauty looked down at the red bloom in her hand and stayed silent. Her fingers ran over the edges of the petals, and the only sounds were her sisters crying and a bird somewhere chirping.
The middle son, who had been silent until now, put a hand on her shoulder.
"Beauty, please." he said softly. "I know you'll find a way to go, your a stubborn kind of girl. But please reconsider. We need you, Beauty. Here. With us."
"And you don't need Papa?"
"Of course we need him. But your the one who keeps us all going, Beauty. If Father leaves, we'll need you more than ever. If you leave...there will be nothing left for us to do. Your our light, Beauty, we're nothing without you."
Annabella, having always been the least attached to her siblings, took offense to this statement. She'd never liked Beauty much, ever since they were young girls and she was passed up often for attention, instead watching her youngest sister showered in love and affection. Jealousy had always been a driving force in her life. So, although it looked as though the argument was settled there, Annabella would not let it rest. She knew that on the third day Beauty would be there in her riding cloak begging to go in his place. The trick would be getting her father to accept.
It really wasn't as difficult as she had anticipated. Over the next nights their father had been mulling over his impending fate, anxiety growing greater as the time brushed past him. Most men fear death as they love life, and this one was certainly no exception. He rotted in guilt as unwanted thoughts rose in his mind. Perhaps the beast wouldn't kill Beauty? Yes, yes, perhaps he really wasn't wholly evil, perhaps she would be safe and well at his home. So shouldn't he send her instead? Or perhaps he would kill her, devour her bleeding corpse like so much meat and leave her to rot on the garden path. He didn't know! He didn't understand the creature that had cared for him, didn't have an idea what intentions clung to his massive skull's interior. What would he do???
His daughter entered his room to find him pacing, though the night was late and his candle burned down to little more than a pool of wax around the flame.
"Annabella? What are you doing up at this hour?" he asked, startled by her appearance.
"I came to talk. About Beauty."
"I don't want to talk now." he said, waving his hand unhappily.
"I'm sorry. But this is your last night at home. Tomorrow morning you'll go back to the monster."
"You think I haven't been fretting over that all night? You need to remind me now?" the merchant shouted, bringing himself to within inches of his daughter. Her eyes flickered and he stepped back, running a hand through his slowly thinning hair. Annabella stood straighter and fingered her skirt; she would not be put off so easily.
"You know Beauty will want to go with you. She is very stubborn once she puts her mind to something, and she wouldn't think twice of offering herself to save you, or any one of us."
"She is a good girl." he said, almost mournfully.
"That she is. And you know she will be standing in the stable with her riding cloak in the morning, ready to leave. She may even take the horse without you. She won't let you die without trying at least."
The merchant collapsed into the edge of his bed, head forward in his hands.
"Stealing the horse would be useless. She doesn't know the way."
"But the horse does." the girl said, sitting next to him. "Father, she will find a way to go. Why not let her?"
"No."
"She'll be perfectly allright, father. You know Beauty. She can charm her way out of any situation. There is no one, man or beast, who could bear to harm our little Beauty. Remember when she was only five, playing out near the forest that stood behind our home? Remember the wolf that came out of the trees? Any other child would have been torn to pieces, but Beauty, no, Beauty tamed the monster. When we found her she was curled up in it's paws, stroking it's shaggy neck. The wolf tried to follow her around for days. Do you remember?"
"Yes." he said, with a slight chuckle. "She had that wolf tamer than a lap dog. It lay at her feet and begged for table scraps."
"Beauty did what no one else could have done." Annabella said, nodding. "And she was only five. Think of what she could do now. If the child can tame a wolf, why can't the woman tame a beast?"
"It is no ordinary beast..."
"And she is no ordinary girl."
He watched Annabella's face for answers, but found only sincerity there. He sighed and his shoulders fell.
"I'll think on it, Annabella. I'll think on it."
She stood to leave, and kissed his forehead sweetly.
"Goodnight, father."
"Goodnight, Annabella."
The door whispered shut behind her. With a heavy sigh the merchant's shoulders dropped. A long moment, two, he fell back onto the bed and closed his eyes, knowing he would never sleep.
The melted candle met the end of it's wick, flickered, and the pale
flame drew into itself in death.
Papa,
As I write this, the sun has climbed the horizon and bathed the
world in reddish gold. This truly is a beautiful country, and our
little home is so peaceful here. Looking out over the land I know
that this is where you deserve to be, and this is where you should live
out your days. I could not bear it to know you had died for my sake.
I've taken the horse and hope you can forgive me.
All my love, to you and my family,
Beauty
Thru the small four panel window in the merchant's bedroom, dawn's light poured thru a rich, reddish gold, a color to take comfort in, and slowly faded to a pale sun as it crept down the wall. He stared at it, but he did not see it. His mind had turned and labored and argued all night long. The words of Annabella bit at his mind from one side, the heavy protectiveness of a father from the other. Whether or not to send Beauty to the monster?
As it turned out in the end, when the patch of sun had come to rest like a fat yellow cat on his bedspread, Annabella's words were crushed rather harshly by his instinct to protect. A thin sweat stood on his forehead and he brushed it away with the sleeve of his unchanged shirt. He felt oddly calm now. He had decided to die, and yet it was almost supernatural the feeling that held to him. Was this what it meant to be a father? To be willing to die for your children? Yes, he supposed it was. It wasn't a terrible feeling by any mark, almost like he had matured somehow.
Resisting the urge to hum to himself, he burrowed thru his clothing chest and found what he would wear to his death. One should die in style if one must die at all. He adjusted his cuffs and smoothed his thinning hair over his skull. Perfect.
As he left his room, he heard sobbing coming from the kitchen. One of the girls. He sighed and walked slowly, not entirely sure how to face his children. As he entered, all of them were present. The boys were leaning against the wall looking ill with grief, and Alexandra was perched on the wooden stool crying. Annabella's face was carefully blank. The faces of the boys lifted to him, and he could see this was not over his imminent departure.
"Where's Beauty?" he said, suddenly realizing she was not present. Alexandra let out a wail and turned her face into Annabella's skirt. The eldest boy sighed in a sort of empty way and his arm extended, shaking a bit. In his trembling fingers was a thin white sheet of paper with ink writings on it. The merchant took it, and felt ill as he recognized the careful hand of Beauty.
The words went thru his mind and meant nothing. He read it again, a third time, the beginning of a fourth when his jaw dropped involuntarily, the paper flitted to the ground. His legs refused to hold him and he fell in a great silent heap on the boards of the floor, eyes unblinking, a cut marionette.
-end chapter 2-