Chapter Text
Once Upon a Time, in the hidden heart of France, a handsome young prince lived in a beautiful castle.
A handsome young prince sat proudly in his vanity chair as his servant applied various cosmetics to his face. The prince watched his reflection in the mirror as she did this, engrossed in his beauty and the way it became enhanced. The rouge that made his lips pop. The sapphire dust that made his gray eyes more pronounced. He was a vision of beauty and grace; the epitome for what a royal should be.
Although he had everything his heart desired, the prince was selfish and unkind.
A beautiful young Majordomo, her skin the color of toffees and her hair the color of chocolate, nervously approached the prince, not wanting to interrupt his primping. She had been yelled at once before for that action when the prince had been in a horrible mood. Reluctantly, she cleared her throat, alerting the prince to her presence and presented him with her pocket watch.
“Master,” she said. “It’s time.”
Unlike the previous time she had reminded him, the prince simply nodded, motioning for the cosmetics to be set down onto the vanity in front of him. The Majordomo breathed a sigh of relief; it seemed the prince was in a good mood due to the ball taking place that night.
He taxed the village to fill his castle with the most beautiful objects—
A handsome bespectacled young maître d’, his eyes a shining hazel and his skin the color of cocoa beans, appeared at the Majordomo’s side. Though he was also tentative in approaching the prince, he was far less nervous than the Majordomo. The Majordomo had only been working for the prince for a couple of years, in comparison to the maître d’, who had grown up in the castle. He was too used to the prince and his antics and was the closest thing to a friend that the prince had besides his brother and cousin.
With a flick of his fingers, the prince gestured for the maître d’ to bring forward a candelabra, simultaneously raising a hand mirror to his face.
“Oui, maître,” the maître d’ spoke, a small smile on his face as he complied with the prince’s silent order.
The prince said nothing, giving no acknowledgement that he had even heard the maître d’s words. He gave no words of thanks, no sign of gratefulness. The Majordomo and maître d’ were sadly used to this treatment, and simply watched as the prince briskly stood and strode out of the room.
—and his parties with the most beautiful people.
The prince, sitting boredly on his throne in the ballroom, snapped his fingers, signaling for his pianist, a beautiful blonde, to begin playing. Beautiful music—for the prince would accept nothing less—began filling the room as the most radiant noble women in the land took to the floor to dance. Rather than the lovely music playing, it was the women who attracted the prince’s attention. Which woman would he deem lucky enough to be his bride?
Sliding his attention to his brother and cousin, who both sat on smaller thrones on either side of him, the prince frowned at their lack of interest in the party. His cousin’s attention was on her nails, seeming to pick at non-existent dirt, her posture slumped in boredom. His younger brother, on the other hand, seemed to be quite interested in the prince’s maître d’, who was currently dancing with his eight-year-old son.
The prince’s lips curled. His maître d’ might have been a beautiful man, but he was the help. Royals do not associate themselves in such a way with the help. Had their mother not taught his younger brother anything? The prince remembered many painful instances in his own childhood where he would be punished for befriending the maître d’.
Fed up with his relatives’ disinterest, the prince stood and strode to the dance floor. He joined the first gorgeous woman he saw, dancing with her before his attention was caught by an even more beautiful woman. He abandoned the first to dance with the next, and this pattern continued as the prince’s seamstress—a chocolate skinned woman with hair as dark as night—began to sing with the most bewitching operatic voice.
MADAME MEADOWES:
“Oh, how divine!
Glamour, music, and magic combine
See the maidens so anxious to shine
Look for a sign that enhances chances
She’ll be his special one.”
Watching the prince’s arrogant behavior, his brother and cousin exchanged looks of disgust. Though they were used to the prince’s superficiality, having witnessed many examples of such over the years, it still disgusted them to see this behavior from the prince. It was also quite a saddening sight for them, as they were also aware that the prince hadn’t always been this way. No, the two could remember a time when the prince was kind, selfless, and as beautiful on the inside as he was on the outside. Unfortunately, that time had long since passed, and the person the prince was today was nothing like he’d been in his youth.
MADAME MEADOWES:
“What a display
What a breathtaking, thrilling array
Every prince, every dog has his day
Let us sing with passion, gusto, fit to bust
Oh, not a care in the world!”
A loud knock pierced through the music, effectively halting the singer and the pianist. Everyone in the ballroom turned their attention to the balcony doors, watching as they blew open with a bang, the wind howling loudly as gusts flew into the ballroom. The wind extinguished the chandeliers’ flames and thunder crackled as a dark, hunched over figure hobbled into the room, supporting their weight onto a knobby-looking cane.
Then one night, an unexpected intruder arrived to the castle, seeking shelter from the bitter storm. As a gift, she offered the prince a single rose.
The prince quickly approached the stranger, a candle handed to him on his way. The stranger collapsed in front of the prince, and when the candle’s light touched the figure’s face, the prince flinched in disgust. Before him was an old, wrinkly, haggard beggar. Any beauty the stranger had once had long since left her. Hope glistened in the stranger’s blue eyes as she begged the prince for shelter, holding out a beautiful red rose in payment for her stay.
The prince’s cousin and brother appeared beside him then, curious about the party’s sudden disturbance. Unlike the prince, his cousin was a truly kind soul. Welcoming the stranger into the castle warmly, the prince’s cousin reached to accept the rose, before her hand was smacked away by the prince. The prince stole the rose from the old woman’s grip, laughing mockingly at the rose and encouraging his guests to as well. Ignoring his cousin and brother’s disapproving looks, the prince smirked insincerely at the old woman and flung the rose at her feet.
Repulsed by her haggard appearance, the prince turned the old woman away... But she warned him not to be deceived by appearances... For beauty is found within. When he dismissed her again, the old woman’s outer appearance melted away to reveal a beautiful enchantress.
Long silvery blonde shiny hair replaced greasy white strands. Smooth, clear skin replaced the wrinkles and age. The old woman grew and her posture straightened, her posture tall and proud. Her black traveler’s cloak transformed into a dress of the finest gold thread the prince had ever seen.
The prince had never seen anyone more beautiful than the woman in front of him. But as she began to rise off the floor, her hair floating around like a halo and her body glowing with pure golden magic, the prince realized he had made a terrible judge of character. For the old woman—young woman?—had magic on her side, and from the stories he’d heard, it never ended well for those who had disrespected magic users.
The prince hardly even noticed as the party guests fled at the sight of the enchantress, nothing but the enchantress in front of him registering in his mind as he sank to his knees.
The prince begged for forgiveness, but it was too late, for she had seen that there was no love in his heart.
The prince pleaded with the enchantress to spare him of any punishment, wishing to rescind his scorn from before. But the enchantress simply looked at him in disgust, serenely waving her hand and sending trails of golden magic in his direction. In her opinion, what good was beauty if the person on the inside was a monster? The world deserved to see the prince for who he really was on the inside, rather than the outside.
As punishment, the enchantress transformed him into a hideous beast and placed a powerful spell on the castle and all who lived there.
The prince, his family, and his servants all doubled over in pain as the enchantress cast her curse.
The prince grew brown fur everywhere—his face, body, arms, legs. A wild mane of brown hair grew from his head, large horns quickly following in pursuit. He grew in height as well, soon towering over the enchantress, his servants, and his family. A long tail grew as well, swishing to and fro. His once normal human hands and feet were now paws, sharp claws replacing his fingernails.
A great roar escaped him as the enchantress looked upon her creation.
Now, the prince was as monstrous on the outside as he was on the inside.
As days bled into years, the prince and his servants were forgotten by the world, for the enchantress had erased all memory of them from the minds of the people they loved.
With time, the once beautiful and shining castle that the prince had held pride for became gloomy and dark, a mere shadow of its former glory. Gargoyles loomed at every corner and dark clouds had replaced the sun, casting an eternal winter on the castle and its inhabitants below. No light ever peeked through anymore. The castle had dissolved into gloom.
But the rose she had offered was truly an enchanted rose. If he could learn to love another and earn their love in return by the time the last petal fell, the spell would be broken. If not, he would be doomed to remain a beast for all time.
The very rose that the prince had scorned now stood under a glass case in the West Wing of the castle. It served as a cruel reminder to the prince of his actions that led him to be cursed. It also served to remind him of the amount of time he had left before the curse became unbreakable.
As the prince observed the rose, another petal fell off and slowly floated to the ground.
As the years passed, he fell into despair and lost all hope, for who could ever learn to love a beast?