Author's note: *sigh*
Disclaimer/claimer: I don't own fairy tales, I just write about them. Faery tales and faeries, however, I do own.
Many thousand lights shone upon her, and she was so beautiful that everyone there was amazed…
Suddenly then, almost before I had realized it, evening had come and it was time for me to go meet Beauty at her room and escort her to the ballroom where, as planned by the scheming minds of Griffith and the Sprytes, we would have our first ever dance together.
Needless to say, I was very nervous – uneasy and self-conscious as any boy who had never been with a young woman before in such a setting, although I had been to many more balls and other formal functions than I cared to count, previous to the curse. The thought of spending such an intimate and dare I say borderline romantic time with such a lovely creature whose outer value was only overshadowed by her inner goodness of spirit cowed me in the greatest of ways.
But there was more to it than just that.
For one night, I wanted to show her what I could be: not simply what I was, but something else entirely. Changing would take quite a bit of my powers and involve very much of my entire magic-wielding abilities, and the transformation back to my beastly self would be excruciatingly painful…but I was willing to do it.
For her.
It would be my disguise. After all, it was a masque ball, and we were both skilled in the art of magic and enchantment. I simply found myself hoping that she wouldn't despise me as the Beast when she had seen me as who I had been.
Of course, none of that could really change how I acted towards her, and what I would do that evening. I would be the Beast under disguise, wearing a mask – an illusion of a different face and form – until midnight, when all of the clocks around the castle struck twelve times. Then I would be myself again, and nothing more. Nothing would change because of this. Nothing at all.
Or so I thought.
I didn't dare allow myself to look at my face in the mirror once I had made the change back to my former self. If I saw the person that a reflection would show me, looking at myself as the Beast again would be much worse. So I dressed for the evening, finding myself startled by the agility and gentleness of normal hands and the ability to see colours again. In three hundred years, I had missed out on all of this. And, I swore to myself, solemnly, I would enjoy what time I had to experience being myself again and not consider anything else. Tonight, I was Orlando, enchanter and prince from the White Realm, and I was to be with Beauty, and everything would be perfect.
In this frame of mind, I made my way to her rooms and lightly tapped on the door there. A moment later, I heard footsteps nearing and then the door swung open slightly, showing me that her special Spryte – whom I had specifically chosen to be her personal servant, above all the others – had come to answer it for her mistress. She started a bit, little flecks of light flying off of her into the air, and I barely suppressed an amused smile. What would Beauty's reaction be when she saw me like this: more faery than anything, even if most of my face was covered by a black harlequin mask?
"Good evening – don't worry, Elenette, it's me."
The Spryte whizzed forward and circled me, seeming as if she was trying to decide whether she was seeing a ghost or not, and I shifted my weight a bit. I really wanted to see Beauty!
"Sir?"
I flashed her a rakish grin.
"Not quite what you were expecting, eh? But you called for a masque ball, and so I have come, complete with my costume."
Here I gestured, with a grand flourish, to my attire: a royal blue velvet tunic and breeches with a white shirt, accented by bold black, white, and gold patterns and trim flung – symmetrically – all about it, a pair of black boots, a cavalier's sword, and a ridiculously romantic, large hat with a plumed black feather pinned onto it. I planned to remove that part of my costume and wear it as little as possible that evening, but it had been Griffith's suggestion, as had been the harlequin theme.
"Is the Lady Beauty ready?" I then inquired. "I await upon her will."
"She's almost ready, but this preposterous tulle mire is hardly keeping her wits from flying off like a flock of wild blackbirds!" came a only somewhat amused and mostly aggravated young girl's voice from inside of the room. I heard quite a bit of rustling and then a thud, and Elenette's glow intensified.
"Milady!"
"Elenette – oh, ow, help me!"
Then I heard her break into peals of laughter. I raised a gloved hand to my mouth, trying to hide the twitching of its corners and muffle my own chuckles, and a few moments later, Elenette reappeared at the door, a frazzled air about her. I stood at attention, putting on my best, or at least so I hoped, poker face.
"Mistress Arielle will be with you shortly, milord," she informed me. And then as she turned away to attend to the lady herself, she added, confidentially, "Best to prepare yourself, Master. The sight of her'll knock you off of your feet."
"Will I be blinded?" I asked, murmuring lightly.
Since it was apparent that I would be waiting for a minute or two, I went down to the end of the corridor, which wasn't terribly far from Beauty's rooms, and tried to occupy myself with looking out the window that was there, at the stars that shone brightly and optimistically in the black night sky and the gardens that shimmered beneath them, instead of thinking about Beauty.
It would only drive me mad.
Behind me then, I heard a door click softly shut on its hinges, and there was a distant, whispering rustle of many stiff tulle petticoats and thick satin. I slowly turned from the window, inhaling gradually, preparing myself. This was it.
"Good evening, milord."
I turned around the rest of the way, and we saw each other.
There couldn't have been a more perfect arrangement – I was shocked into immobility upon seeing her, and she looked as if…well, as if she had never seen me before. As she hadn't. I took a hesitant, small step towards her, trying not to frighten her, almost as I had that first night when we had met, and reached out a hand.
"Beauty…" I said, gently. "It's me."
She stared at me, seeming to recognize my voice but unsure of whether it was truly me or not. "Beast…" she said. "How did you…"
"It's magic." I told her. I stepped the rest of the way across the distance between us, until we were almost touching, and held out my hand to her, palm up: a gesture of peace, and of trust, if she would accept it. "It's a masque ball, Beauty…I wanted to…" Well, could I tell her what I had wanted? Why I had done this? "It'll go away at midnight." Please, at least consent to believe that!
She nodded then, slowly, and I felt immensely relieved.
"It's still you."
She stepped forward, looking up into my eyes, as her own brilliant, azure blue – heavenly blue! – eyes gazed upon my face, upon me, searchingly. Could she still see me, in this new form? It made me wonder…
What would she think if I ever became myself again?
Then she smiled, and my heart fluttered like the wings of a captive bird against its cage, pounding in a plea to be released.
"I am eager to attend this mask ball, milord," she told me. "It is a great honour to be part of such a privilege."
A privilege!
"Then shall we go down now?"
I turned halfway and offered my arm to her, flashing another brilliant grin at her. Oh, it was so different to smile with real lips and teeth, instead of fangs and the broad maw of a dragon! I would never again complain about the forming of the human – or faery – body again, if I ever broke the spell that held me!
Arielle smiled as well, and I was stunned by the gorgeous, dazzling beauty of her face as it lit with the expression.
"We shall," she said, and so we did.
The ballroom looked spectacular, in spite of all of the trouble that I had gone through in order to have it prepared exactly to my orders. Everywhere, swaths of gleaming white fabric and velvety, nearly black red roses hung; the air was scented by the perfume of the thousands of flowers, glowing with the light of countless white candles.
I couldn't have imagined it as being any more flawless.
We descended the grand staircase that fronted the ballroom together and made our way out onto the center of the glossy marble floor, and I never took my eyes off of her. She looked like a queen in her fantastic ball gown, which was of an all-white material that seemed to shift in colour, sparkling like a diamond, whenever she moved: studded with gems and ribbons and roses and lace and embroidery. The lace that framed her shoulders and the bodice of her gown made her look like a graceful swan, pure white and graceful, more lovely than words can tell. On her head, a delicate filigree crown of gold, pearls, and diamonds gleamed and sparkled amidst the mounds of her pale hair.
She was a sublime, untouchable queen: an ice princess, a doll made of a glass so delicate that it would easily break with the slightest carelessness of touch, swathed in lace and tulle, white as snow and pure as daylight atop an undiscovered mountain.
I bowed, moving slightly away from her so that only our hands now touched, and said, "Milady, would you give me the honour…"
She blushed a heavenly shade of rose and replied, speaking softly, "I have never danced before, milord. When I was younger, my father used to take out a music box of mine and let it play its song, and then he would have me stand on the tips of his boots and he would waltz with me, but I have never danced with anyone else…"
Anyone else such as a young man? A cavalier? A lord? Or a beast?
I cleared that thought off, smiling at her, and replied, "And I have not danced in almost over three hundred years, dear lady. It is not in the knowledge of how to dance that one does so…it is something that comes through the mere passion of it all."
Beckoning for her to come closer to me, I then said, "Come now. It is only just us, only we two – you, and me. There is nothing to fear."
Nothing to fear but my own heart.
Gently, carefully, I gathered her into my arms, as if she was a timid, fragile butterfly. I took her hand and placed it on my right shoulder, demonstrating the waltz pose, and then I hesitantly slid the arm of that shoulder around her waist. It was so tiny – she was so tiny! Banishing my amazement, I then took her other hand in mine, raising it so that our arms were on level with one another, stretched out to the side, and she gathered her voluminous skirts into that hand, keeping them carefully out of the way of her feet. I smiled into her eyes, and she mirrored the expression.
The music began, tentatively and elusively, fleeting and elegant as the first pattering of raindrops on a glass windowpane. The Sprytes were surpassingly talented at this. Then a waltz rhythm ebbed into being, and I started to move to it. Beauty seemed uncertain and almost afraid, unsure of what to do, and I told her, soothingly and softly, "It's all right. Just follow me – let me lead. It's all right…"
And we were off, dancing slowly and cautiously at first, and then as the music went on, she seemed to grow in confidence, and soon we were whirling about in breathless, swooping circles and turns, twirling and being led by the music.
One two three, one two three, one two three…
Nine, ten, eleven, twelve.
How many hours until my time was up? An eternity.
* * *
I could have gone on dancing with her forever, but soon – seemingly seconds after we had first begun – Elenette and my own personal servant Spryte, Raethyr, had appeared to announce that dinner was served. Laughing and out of breath, I escorted her into the dining room and seated her in the tall, throne-like chair that stood at the head of the table. Then, I looked to the side of that chair, and to my surprise, I found another place laid out, only a scant few feet away. I had been expecting to have my seat far down the table, at its end, but this was a welcome change.
Beauty marveled at the food that was before us, and I myself was impressed by the regalia that the Sprytes had managed to come up with.
Gold, silver, ivory, and china was scattered all about the silken and brocade tablecloth, with crystal goblets and plate chargers of jade and ruby. I counted at least four different kinds of forks…
And oh fates, I hope that I can recall which one is for what course!
I seated myself, flinging my disregarded hat across the top of my chair, but I did not remove my mask. I prayed that she would understand…or simply ignore it. She had also worn a small, graceful mask: white, studded with gems and a-flutter with satin ribbons and plumed feathers, but it had a rod with which to hold it, whereas my mask had nothing but ties to secure it around my head. I gazed at her as the Sprytes brought out our dinner, unable to look away.
Finally, I said, "Your first ball…could you have imagined it as being like this – in a castle with talking flecks of light for servants and a beast with the powers of an enchanter as your companion and master in your learning of the faery skills? I find it odd myself."
"Odd? Hardly!" she replied, watching a Spryte pour her first glass of wine for her. "No…I like it."
"I am flattered." I said, almost dryly.
Over dinner, we turned to other subjects, ranging from literature and world travel, to politics and moral issues, to music and science and different types of flowers, to the silliness of some fashions – past and present – and a host of other things. Our conversation was so easy, so warm and interesting, that I wondered how horrible her stepmother and stepsister had been to have not realized just what an incredible, beautiful spirit that she truly had! Here was an intelligent, independent, freethinking young woman who knew how to comport herself properly and yet refused to be treated as mere chattel. She completely awed me. I found myself thinking that she might make a very worthwhile counselor for my mother's brother-at-law, Orandor: ruler of all the faeries. I wished that I could have told her that…but such a thing was impossible.
Finally, when we had finished, we left the dining room and sallied forth on a stroll through the palace. There was one particular segment of it that I wished for her to see on this night, lit by the full moon and her children, the stars.
We came out onto the terrace that overlooked much of the castle's lands and most of the castle itself, and soon our conversation died away into blissful nothingness as we surveyed the fantastic view.
At length, she stirred and made a sudden comment, thoughtfully.
"Stars. Papa always told me that something my mother had said to him very many times, when she was alive…was that stars weren't really just stars at all – lights in the sky to guide weary travelers and sea-faring voyagers, and their captains and sailors… They're dreams…dreams come true…and I remember that, when I was little, I always wanted for my dreams to be up there, in the sky, someday."
"What do you dream about, Beauty?" I asked her, staring quite unabashedly at her lovely, gentle profile. The corners of her mouth turned up a bit in the soft semblance of a little, almost wistful smile, and she murmured her reply.
"Lots of things. I'd like to see the world again…and to learn more about magic and enchantment…but most of all…most of all…"
She trailed off and I moved closer to her, desirous to hear what she dreamed most passionately about and also somehow drawn to her side.
"I dream most of all about finding my husband – my prince…" Here her smile turned a bit rueful, as if she knew that she would never find an actual prince and become his wife. Oh Beauty, you don't know… "And then raise five absolutely beautiful children with him and live…happily ever after."
I wanted that too. Oh how I wanted it.
She turned to me, and I discovered that we were standing so close to one another that her hair, stirred by the gentle night breeze, drifted against my face. Her eyes, darkened by the reflection of the sky and all of its shadows, had stars in them: bright, sparkling, incredibly beautiful stars.
"Arielle…" Her real name seemed foreign to my tongue: I was so used to calling her Beauty. I looked down, averting my eyes from hers, and shook my head, smiling ruefully. "You're so beautiful. I wish that I could be beautiful too…for you."
"But you are – you are, and you always have been!" she told me. My heart sent a rush of warm, overwhelming emotion through my entire being, and I felt as if every part of me was crying out to be loved, to know affection, and to be devoted to her, and to her alone. I lowered my head towards her, lips trembling and eyes blurred by tears, yet again, and whispered her name.
"Arielle…"
"Oh my Beast…" she whispered back, and then my arms went around her waist, bringing her up and closer to me, and I was holding on to her, desperately, passionately, as if I was drowning and she was the only thing that could save me. Her arms were around my neck, crushing me to her with her sweet, unhesitating strength.
"Beauty…" I murmured, hoarsely, overcome by emotion. "May I…" I trailed off, trying to find my breath, my conscious side, amidst the pounding of my heart. Somewhere, off in the distance, a garden clock began to chime.
One, two, three, four…
"Would you give me permission…to kiss you?"
She breathed in.
Five, six…
"Beast."
Seven, eight, nine—
Oh, I don't care, blast it all! I'm kissing her! What is there in the world for me to care about anymore, at this moment? I am kissing her!
Finally, I broke the kiss, but still held her, resting my forehead against hers. Cold chills of anticipation at the agonizing transformation back to being the Beast again ran through me, met by the flushed warmth of her silky skin.
"Beauty…" I whispered. "Thank you so much, but I…"
"I know," she answered. Her eyes were closed. "But this was…"
"The night of all nights." I finished for her. "I know."
And neither of us will ever forget it.
I stepped away, but I couldn't bring myself to releasing her hand. She still held on to me. We could not be parted from one another, not even by this.
Ten, eleven.
Twelve.
Forgetting was never an option.
And that night, I realized the truth that I had long withheld from myself—
I was in love with her.
* * * * * *
…the clock struck twelve.