Claimer/Question: Looking back over my ideas for this story, I see that the ever despised/spoofed/attempted-to-be-made-in-some-way-original disclaimer is actually unnecessary. All the characters are mine, and the fairy tale belongs to no one, so there's really no one to relinquish ownership to. Thus, I claim, rather than disclaim. Now, in that same vain of thought, I've had a suggestion that the story would fit better in the "fairy tale" section, which makes very good sense to me. After all, it's not a direct fic of the Disney film, or the book Beauty, since Robin Mckinely put herself on the "I don't want fans to appreciate me through prose of their own" list. I didn't even know there was a fairy tale section, but it seems like a better categorical fit. However, I suspect that those who care the most about the story of Beauty and the Beast will be here rather than there. And honestly I really like the people here. I think they're cool. So I was wondering if I could get some other readers' opinions on this. To move, or not to move? Thanks for reading, now, I continue on!

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Chapter 2: Charles Gosier's Prologue

"I love no one, Galia, least of all you."

Blackness surrounded a pair of bright green eyes. Their owner sat shrouded in the dark, the haughty young face obscured by deep shadows.

"Neither I, nor any of the Maga demand your affection, your love, or your good opinion." Galia replied. "The only love that is requested of you is love for the everlasting Mother. We want you to return to us, Milord, and to Her, for your own good."

Charles Gosier laughed – the sarcastic, malicious laugh of the powerful and malcontent.

"My own good! My dear lady, you know not of what you speak. My life revolves around my good; my every action is based on it. I know what is in my interest, Maga, and this is not it."

"No, you would not think so. And of course you are the repository of all knowledge, at the ripe old age of sixteen years."

"Just as you were, at the age of seventeen. What was it, the youngest Magamistress in history? Or only the last century? But you needn't fret; I'm only your better by a year."

"I pity you, Charles. Your vision," she sighed, " is so clouded with pride."

"Charles? My lady, you must use titles when addressing your superiors. Now, what were you saying about pride?"

"Ah yes, you are mature."

Gosier leaned forward, letting the window's light bathe his face in red illumination, and flashed a white-toothed smile at the increasingly annoyed Mistress of Magic.

It was a very handsome face, full of manly strength despite his lacking years. His sharp, firm features seemed made for scornful laughter; a wry mouth, and eyes that gleamed with dark humor beneath angled brows. The long hair that framed his face might have lent an feminine air to someone else, but there was no trace of a dandy in him. He was hard and cruel.

"I fancy I am. I control this province with more skill than the Maga Council runs the country, and I believe that were our positions reversed and I presided over all the lands, my rule would be far superior to theirs. Is this not an accomplishment, for one so young?"

"Your opinions of your own skills hardly constitute accomplishments, and what's more they verge on treason. Were I you, I would hold my tongue."

"Ah. What I pity, then, that you are not."

Galia uttered the softest of groans. "Be serious, Gosier, for a moment at least, while your soul is in discussion."

"My soul!" he scoffed, as if the Maga had just invented the term. "Was that what you were on about? You see my impression was that a pompous twit was whining to me about the ruin of her ever-so-perfect plans."

"The Council's plans," she corrected.

"No," Charles assured her, "they were yours. I could tell because they were so damned stupid. How you got the Council to stamp their good name on them is beyond me."

"Charles," she said sweetly, "We aren't discussing plans, or the Council, we're discussing you. Do you have no interest in morality, spirit, salvation?"

"Not particularly."

"Vulgar. Absolutely barbaric…"

"I think I've had enough of this nonsense for the moment, Galia. You've been entertaining, but you're going to leave now."

Galia stared him in the eyes. "Do you think you can evict me?"

"I do." He replied without a second's hesitation. "I am the Prince here Galia, and while you may have the spiritual authority to spout sugar coated morality sermons at whoever you choose, only I control what goes on in these lands. That includes the war, the Maga, and you."

A silence hovered momentarily in the darkness, and then it was Galia's turn to laugh. She threw back her head and dissolved into a tinkling chorus of mirth, like the music of chiming bells. Gosier looked at her as though she were mad.

"You…you think you can control me? A spoiled, adolescent monarch with as much knowledge of Magic as a woodland creature – and, I need hardly add, manners to match –and he will order a Magamistress here and there? Oh, I anticipated the selfishness, the crazed materialism, even the belligerence! But this arrogance, pretentiousness! It's the most incredible thing I've ever witnessed! You truly believe it too, don't you? You probably think you can stop time, or hold a beam of light in your hand!" She clutched her side and trembled with hysterics.

Gosier eyed her warily, put off by the strange outburst. "No, my lady," he replied, "but I can hold you."

The laughter ceased.

"And how," said Galia coldly, "do you propose to do that?"

"With a few hundred soldiers, each pointing a finely crafted firearm at that glowing head of yours."

A grin spread slowly across Galia's face.

"Call for your army Charles," she dared him. He glared in silence. "Call for your hundred soldiers, call for a thousand! Ten-thousand! Call for your palace guards, Charles. And when that fails, call your servants! Do you know what you'll see? Nothing! And the most you will hear…is a slight rustling against the confinement of metal bars."

True anger and the slightest hint of fear made their way into Gosier's eyes.

"What have you done?"

"What was necessary."

"What.Have.You. Done?"

"Sit down Charles. Your men are safe." Galia stood and placed her marble-white hand upon Gosier's forehead, pushing him down into his chair. "But you aren't much without them, are you?"

"Don't touch me…Maga witch…" came the struggling words from Gosier's mouth, but he found he could not raise his hand to her. In response, Galia, lightly stroked his cheek.

"My poor Prince," she mused. "I did give him every chance I could, didn't I? And now he must be punished…"

Panic surged within the Prince's immobilized form. Galia was pensive.

"What to do, what to do? How ever will you learn, my dear? How can your demon pride be defeated? Perhaps, if you could see yourself the way others do…the way you truly are. Crude, violent…beastly…"

"Transformations are illegal…" it took all of Gosier's strength to mutter.

"Not if you change the laws."

Silence.

"Yes….yes…that will do very well indeed…"

The Maga removed a small bottle from beneath the layers of her bright white cloak, as the motionless Prince struggled hopelessly to break away.

"You should learn from this, Charles." She said, as she held the little glass bottle up to the light."Learn to be holy, learn to love, and learn that neither you, nor any other vulgar human can ever challenge the Gods."

Galia emptied the bottle's contents into her mouth. She then knelt down, and engulfed Charles Gosier's lips with her own.

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And thus ends the strange chapters. The next will indeed be coherent and less creepifying than this one might have been. (Vivian's going to be like "0.o" to me. Rebecca too, actually...). And now I get to have fun answering reviews:

BelleEve: Firstly, I'm glad you've been updating so much lately! I really enjoy reading your stories. As for the dreaded exposition, I will be providing more background in the next chapter, hopefully in a manner that isn't too conspicuous.

River chan 42: Ah, my dear sister. I can always count on her to criticize me online, when if she wanted to she could tell me to my face, being in the same house and all. But alas, the joke is now on her, for she has misspelled spelling (there's only one "i') in her criticism of mine. Seriously though, please tell me if I have odd little mistakes, because I can't stand them.

Rozalia, Trudirose, Lotte Rose 37, Rozalia, and epalladino: Thanks to all you guys for reading, and for positive comments, which are actually my favorite kind. Anyone who reads any of my works is automatically amazing in my eyes. I haven't tried creative writing for years, and I appreciate all the support.