Work Text:
At eleven years old, the prince is not much to behold. He is scrawny and pale and orphaned, but he is also callous and bold and argumentative.
At eleven years old, his portrait looks unbelievably grown-up, and he feels like he’ll never learn the list of royal titles Cogsworth gives him, or grow into his crown.
At eleven years old, the nights are cold and he is prone to lashing out, to watching lavish banquets go cold while he turns his spoon around in his soup. He is a boy, scared of storms and loud noises, and he likes strangers least of all.
Then, he is not a boy.
He cuts his lips on his teeth when he closes his mouth. He sheds, everywhere, and when he wakes up crying the room shakes. If he stands straight, his spine makes him growl in pain. His claws mean he rips pages out of books and leaves marks on hardwood floors, tainting everything he touches.
He breaks the strings on his violin, he falls over dancing, he locks himself in his room pulling at the fur on his face. He has too many teeth so he slurs his words, and then his voice drops and yelling makes Mrs. Potts run away.
He is destructive, so to cope he destroys.
Everyone stays because of an obligation. If they could be anywhere else, they would. He has pity, he has fleeting love, but he does not know loyalty. His companions are old, and they all lose sight of the nature of humanity, until even Cogsworth gives up on training him to be a gentleman.
What good is German to a monster who will rot away in his castle?
All his feelings are amplified by his loneliness, by being able to smell the kitchens from the ramparts, and by being able to hear Mrs. Potts warn Chip about his temper from his room. He does not tell any of them, but he hears their mutterings, their concerns, and he feels he can never deserve them. He is wrong about them, about their love: it is unconditional, but he is scared he will taint them so he pushes them away, until one day he doesn’t have to bother.
He tries to remember other humans. A girl he once danced with, a boy he played with in the gardens.
As the images fade, the petals begin to drop.