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The most beautiful princess in the land, they’d called her once.
And they weren’t wrong. It was not merely vanity. Only the truth.
That was a very long time ago.
Just like the truth that she must endure now is this disgraceful, unacceptable body.
Eve. Her name was as divine as her beauty. The first woman. The most important woman.
It was one of the few things her parents told her, in the midst of their busy lives with balls and politics.
She loved her name. It fit her well.
That was then; when she was beautiful and the object of envy of all.
“H-how should I call you?” The beautiful peasant asks.
It’s a bit infuriating to see so much beauty in a mere commoner. The level of beauty unseen in ballrooms seemed to live in the middle of nowhere.
Even she had needed hours to display the best hairdos and the proper countenance and makeup.
This unknown man is effortlessly beautiful and graceful in every action. Even in the dim light of the dungeon while shaking, he is still striking.
The final straw is that his name means beauty. And it fits him oh so perfectly.
Unlike her.
“Beast.” She grunts before offering him a deal.
For that is all she is.
Breaking every mirror in the palace was not nearly enough.
(Except, of course, that magical mirror which seemed to exist only to taunt her.)
It would never be enough, she knew it well by now. Even if every man-made reflecting surface was disposed of (usually by herself during bouts of rage) there was nothing that could be done against puddles, windows — her servants begged her to stop breaking them — and even the ice outside.
The slightest glance, by mistake, at the frozen lake shook her to the core still.
Every single time.
The palace mirrors were cruel and deserved being destroyed, but they were just objects. Easy to hide or cover. Even easier to break.
But how could she fight against an entire lake, which seemed to exist only to mock her? To show her the horrific animal she’d become.
She, who was once called the most beautiful princess in all the land.
The number of would-be suitors was already ridiculous by the time she was fourteen and their visits enumerable. All of them had been the same, saying the same inane, clearly copied phrases, their faces and voices merging. She never cared for any.
But she most certainly cared for their praises and, even more so, their gifts. Jewelry, dresses, and mirrors were always well received. The useless things, such as books, were given to any acquainted noble who wanted to win favors.
Why waste time with books when mirrors showed her the real world? What truly mattered.
‘Vain, spoiled, ugly thing’ is what she was called by the enchantress on that cold, unforgettable night so long ago. It felt like another life altogether.
That version of her from before would’ve laughed endlessly at her current self. Perhaps even ordered her execution, as a dangerous beast should not be anywhere near palaces and members of the court. Kindly, she would even save peasants from such an irrational animal.
And now she was this very animal.
How could she have been called disgusting and ugly when she’d been the most beautiful? That was no vanity. Princess Eve had received nobles from near and far countries. She was a frequent guest at all important parties. No woman (or man) had ever come close to her beauty.
She dared say no one could rival her beauty in any country in the world. True, she’d never traveled too far from the palace. But she’d seen enough of the world.
That damned enchantress ruined her life.
Made her this… thing!
This hairy, drooling, heavy and deformed animal that couldn’t even move decently.
No dress could cover all that fur or give her even a glimpse of a silhouette. Most of them ripped apart at the slightest attempt. The best dresses in the world fit for a princess, indeed.
What a load of bullshit. Every single one of them were liars. From the fiancée wannabes who professed their undying love for her and promptly disappeared after the curse to her own servants, who bowed to her every order and now silently judged her for the curse.
As if she was the culprit here.
She was a poor girl, victim of a horrible curse by a witch who envied her.
To think this was a lifelong penance… Eve could not stand it, most days. She would escape from the palace, run through the forests (on all fours, like an animal), sometimes even fight other beasts… anything to not think of the past.
What use was it if she got scars from fighting with wolves and bears? Who would even care if scars filled her body when fur covered it all up.
When it was a hideous body, for starters. And one she would have to live with her entire life.
For who could even consider loving a hideous thing like her?
Where a small, delicate hand once rested in the most perfected poses under a glove of the highest material, now there was only a paw.
The beautiful, perfect manicure she’d so demanded back then was only a distant memory. Any time she’d (inevitably) glance at her… hand, there was only a mess of fur, disgusting and messy, like an unkempt dog fitting for a peasant.
She couldn’t stand to look at herself.
There were no mirrors where she roamed the halls - for walking was an action for humans and she was anything but. She knew her servants still kept mirrors stored, even the broken pieces that she ordered to be discarded. They still wanted to look at themselves for some incomprehensible reason.
There was nothing to look at.
Nothing to love or appreciate.
Eve starts to wonder if there ever had been. Considering how no one from her past remained, save the cursed servants, she believed she already had her answer.
It is a bit unbelievable. Here is the most beautiful man she’s ever seen and he is, what? A commoner, of all things?
His clothes were rumpled and of the lowest quality. Clearly he did nothing to care for his skin or hair.
(So unlike her, who had a daily ritual of a rose petals bath and the very best of products.)
The first time she saw him, he was cowering in fear. Even then, he stood his ground and demanded his mother be released.
There was something in those eyes... a sort of confidence and resilience she’d never seen before. It wasn’t just beauty.
She’d had some brave enough to deny her requests (like that goddamn witch) but they always had some backing. Either political or magical. People who knew they could earn her rage and be protected somehow. Otherwise none would dare cross her. Especially her servants.
And yet, this gentleman — how she’d have called him long ago, had they met at a ball — had nothing to protect him. Even so, he stood firm.
He would do anything to protect his mother.
She wishes someone would have stood up against her like that.
(Or stood up for her as such. Her parents never cared for her except who they could’ve paired her with to earn more land).
It was unfair.
So unbelievably unfair!
This beautiful man had not only looks but strength of character as well.
Something she now realizes was missing all along inside her.
Her mother made sure her skin was always perfect and well taken care of. She could still hear all her rules.
‘Do not, under any circumstances, stay under the sun otherwise your beautiful pale skin will be ruined’.
‘Never stand close to the fire. Eve, nevermind the tea. The servants will take care of that.’
‘Do not do any inferior manual work that would ruin those beautiful hands. We have people who are more… apt for such things.’
And her answer was always the same:
‘Oui, mama’.
For she never cared much for any of that, to begin with.
She was to be poised and beautiful. The highest level of silks and dresses to match her natural beauty. And while her skin was indeed pale, it was not enough. For balls, they always made sure to make it whiter. The heavy layer of whatever it was they used always bothered her. She was always scratching her face, to her family and servants’ horror.
Then came the long gloves. A must for a noble. A way to make sure delicate, noble skin did not touch inferior beings and things.
It was a boring, empty life. The balls soon became part of the same old. The people were always the same and had nothing new to say. It was a constant battle for her attention, which she quite enjoyed.
Time was running out before she was forced to marry her parents’ choice of suitor. So she had to enjoy the little pleasures: mocking the stupid men’s flights of fancy, putting women who believed themselves prettier in their place, punishing servants for being incompetent, anything to escape boredom.
That curiosity for the woods outside or spending time in the sun was always a constant. One she had to fight constantly as it was not the place for a beautiful young lady.
Especially a princess as herself.
Her mother would've screamed and most likely fainted had she lived long enough to see the wounds on her arm now.
(Now that she thinks about it, Eve doesn’t believe neither of her parents would’ve endured the curse. Their pride never would’ve permitted living as inferior beings.)
Eve didn’t particularly care about the injury or the future scars . Fur did cover it all.
There was nothing to mourn if she was hurt. No beauty to appreciate in her anymore.
And these were battle scars. Her sign of victory over the wolves. She prevailed in battle against a whole pack in the middle of the storm, something she didn’t believe herself capable of, considering she never even learned fencing (even though she begged to learn so much when young).
Only one thing matters now.
She protected Beau.
This is probably the only good thing she’d done in her life, if she is being honest.
“Thank you.” Beau says, looking down at her bloodied arm covered in fur. He means every word.
She is surprised he hasn’t looked away in disgust yet.
Beau is no liar. She knows that by now.
His elegant hand moves gracefully and carefully as he cleans her wounds. It still burns like hell.
Hissing through the pain, she turns away. She can’t let him see her eyes watering up. It would be an even uglier sight. Plus, she hasn’t quite forgiven him yet.
“We’ve made a deal. You backed out.”
From the corner of her eye, she can see him frowning. And it is irritating how beautiful he still looks, no matter the expression.
“Well, you scared me.” His upset tone and face do not translate to his hands, which are still delicate and careful over her wounds. “And, you were very rude.”
She growls at that.
Who is he to scold her!
Eve is still the mistress of this house and a princess (though none of these titles meant anything anymore). She will do as she pleases.
No commoner should be picking a fight with a noble. Much less a prisoner with his captor. And yet, that is what Beau has done from almost the first day here.
The gall he had…
But... she must admit she is happy that he is back.
Even if temporarily.
Even if he does not want to stay here in this cursed palace a minute longer… which is quite understandable.
She would’ve run away long ago if only it was possible. Beast suspected that was the case for probably many servants.
What matters, though, is that he is here right now. At this very moment, he is choosing to stay here. Caring for her and talking to her, instead of being anywhere in this vast palace (except the forbidden wing).
“Thank you.” He repeats, more calmly this time. Still focused on the task at hand.
She was raised with manners, contrary to his and the servants’ opinion.
“You’re welcome.” She growls out a reply.
His warm smile is worth the small humiliation.
At Cogsworth, Lumière, and Mr. Potts’ insistence, she does her best to entertain Beau.
It’s a little bit of everything each day. Her most loyal servants had created a schedule of sorts. Show him the best parts of the palace — except, of course, where he shouldn’t go — and, her favorite, time outside.
Beau is surprisingly amiable the whole time. It’s like his attempt at escaping and their bitter arguments never happened. He has fun in every room, even the boring ones. Everything is new and exciting to him. Be it a stroll in the grounds, resting close to the fireplace while talking about nothing (though the curious peasant always wants to know what exactly she and the servants are) or just eating together. He is fine skipping etiquette when he clearly has it. It’s embarrassing how a peasant like him eats and moves more gracefully than she ever did (even as a human).
But Beau never humiliates her or treats her as inferior.
He also never sings her praises or tries to win her favor with endless gifts.
He just sees her as she is.
Not even as a beast.
But as a person who he considers an equal. Someone who is happy to spend time together.
Eve still can’t quite believe it. It feels like a prolonged prank or joke. But Beau would never do that. He is an honest, kind and good person.
A true gentleman, at his essence. Regardless of his birth or pedigree.
(Did that even matter anymore?)
He is the kindest person she’s met in her who isn’t either obliged to serve her or looking to get something out of her.
Oh, but she forgets.
There is a single reason why he is even here, in the first place. Why would someone like him spend an hour at her side?
His mother.
That is why.
Beast cannot forget herself.
The sweet, intelligent and valiant Beau is only here due to their deal. The second she concedes his freedom, he will go and never return.
And, just as she was back then as a human, Eve is selfish. She cannot let go of what she wants.
Why hasn’t there been any nobles like Beau, she wonders during late nights when she can’t sleep and the rose mocks her.
(The rose always mocks her, no matter the time of day.)
Maybe if there had been, she could’ve learned this sooner. Seen the world in a new light. Acted differently. Been a better person.
But Beau was Beau. She didn’t think she’d find another no matter how much she looked for.
(Lately, she starts to wonder if there had always been people as good as him and she just never noticed. After a cup of the warmest tea from the ever patient Mr. Potts, who listened to all her woes and complaints with a fatherly smile, Eve has her answer).
“Beast! You’re telling me you’ve had this incredible library your whole life and you’ve never read any books?” Beau is so flabbergasted, he hasn’t closed his mouth in minutes now.
Even when he looks like a fish out of water, he’s still so cute.
“Reading isn’t expected of a lady, Beau.” She is a bit uncomfortable at how much she sounds like her mother just then.
Beau isn’t a noble, he could never possibly know how it is in their world.
And now, he has that look she both loves and hates. The look of ‘I completely disagree and, if you insist, we will argue about this because I care deeply’.
And, of course, she insists.
“Eve! Books are wonderful! Truly, they are!” He answers as she scoffs. “Look, my father taught me how wonderful books can be.” Beau gave that sad smile he always had when he mentioned his mother. “He’d read to me every night. Sometimes he would even come up with his own stories! They were always so interesting, I couldn’t sleep at all! We would even come up with our own endings.”
Eve frowns. Maybe it was different with peasants. It is still surprising someone with no educated background as Beau could even read. Even more so that he read so well. Better than her (even compared to when she still had daily tutors she escaped from).
Maybe peasant mothers loved their children more.
“Beast, believe me. You are missing out on so many incredible stories!” Beau is adamant in convincing her to read. He looks so serious, one might think he would be ready to pick her up (if he were able) and just sit her down to read something.
She has no reply to that. How can she deny or agree when books have always been the bane of her existence? They were the most boring gifts, which her parents assured her to be useless for her future education as queen. She never cared for learning and neither did anyone insist on it.
This is an argument she can’t win. So she changes topics slightly.
“Well, a lady is not expected to read. She is expected to be beautiful and marry well.” And that sounded even more like her mother and past tutors.
Beast huffs and goes to look at the window. She needed to step away from Beau and all his… smart ways. He didn’t understand.
Visiting this room full of books and dust just brought bad memories. But she knew Beau would love it so she did it anyway. But it was uncomfortable, in more ways than one, to be here.
There is so much dust in the air that she would rather not stay a minute longer. She was a second away from sneezing nonstop (a habit she had from before) and with this… muzzle, it was always a disgusting sight. Seeing an animal covered in snot. Beau doesn’t deserve to see that ugly of a sight (considering he already saw enough hideousness daily).
She wonders whether Beau is just used to the smell of dust. Perhaps his house smelled like this. Although it didn’t seem likely. He never smelled anything but wonderf-
“Do you truly believe that?” He asks too close to her, just behind her.
She jumps a bit and can just feel her furs bristling, betraying her surprise. Beast quickly leans against the wall facing the window, pretending nothing happened. It seems her effort is of no use, considering Beau’s smirk.
Is the genius now a mind reader as well? Could he tell she sometimes breathed in a little too much when near him? She always made sure to smell him quietly, so he wouldn’t notice-
“What?! Believe what?”
Play it cool, Eve.
“That ladies should not read? Just stand and look pretty for others?” Beau had that (too common) look of disappointment on his face now.
She really hated that particular expression most of all. His irritated face or that know-it-all glance were indeed annoying but also… fun, in a way. But this expression she couldn’t stand. The ‘I’m very disappointed with you’ look.
She never cared when she received that look before. They had all been below her anyhow (that damned witch included).
Who were they to judge her?
And who was this pretty (oh so pretty) extremely smart (damnably so) gentleman to judge her?
Perhaps the most important question of all: why did she feel so small when he (and only he) looked at her like that?
“That’s how I was raised.” She doesn’t continue with the ever ready ‘I didn't know another way’. She isn’t going to admit she didn’t know something, not even to him.
Belatedly, she noticed she showed her fangs when glaring at him. Oh, how she hates whenever that happens. At first, it was very much intentional. Beau and everyone should fear her, always.
Now, she felt ashamed as it was another reminder that only beasts had fangs. More than ever, every single time she was reminded of how ugly she looked. Especially when someone divinely beautiful like Beau stood next to her.
For some reason, that look disappeared from Beau’s face. He gave the most beautiful smile she’d seen so far.
Had she said the right thing, for once?
Her treacherous heart is already beating too loud and too fast at even that thought.
But could it be blamed, when Beau is smiling so beatifically. Even more beautiful than the big and wide smile Beau had when he’d seen the library in all its (dusty and old) glory.
He looks so… kind now. Well, kinder than usual. Ah, and there it is. That beautiful warm glow like the most delicious chocolates from foreign lands. And he, giving her that smile? How unfair.
She inhales too sharply. Big mistake this time (as it was always a success when she could smell him). Now all that dust is making her sneeze pitifully.
Oh god, here is the snot! She is just making a fool of herself nonstop. Daily, even.
This was bad enough! If she couldn’t forbid him from hearing her sneezing, she could at least save him that ugly sight. turned around to the window facing away from him. But she can still hear Beau’s warm laughter from behind her.
She wants to punish him for that, but how can she, in her current predicament.
Her eyes are now all watery and dust filled her nose-
No, not nose. That is for humans. Beasts and animals did not have noses.
She can’t stand being here any longer, humiliated like this. The books and their hidden knowledge (considering she could not even read them now) mock her, as does the dust in the room. The forest outside with cool crisp air seems much more inviting.
It is decided, she is leaping out of here. Once she turns the door and Beau can no longer see her, she’s running on all four, discretion be damned.
A weight on her shoulder made her turn sharply, glaring at him for interrupting her plans.
This is the one time in her life she is glad for the fur. So he can’t tell how much she is blushing over such a simple touch. Just by a hand on her shoulder, which is a bit ridiculous. Especially considering the highest praises or kisses on (gloved) hands had never stirred her heart before.
“It is rather dusty here.” He confirms, kindly, as he didn’t sneeze once nor seem bothered by any of it. “Shall we come back after cleaning up?”
Ignoring the fact that the ‘cleaning up’ would not be done by them — that’s what servants were for, after all — Beast focused on the most important word said.
“We?” She searches for confirmation, a bit unsure she heard correctly. Even though her hearing has never been better (one of the few things this form won against humans).
“Of course!” He smiles delighted, as if it was so obvious a notion it had to be the two of them. “How else can I prove to you how wonderful books are?”
Ah, so that’s what it was. He just had to prove he was right. And smarter than her.
Beast glares and intentionally shows her fangs now.
“You mean, prove how boring and useless studying is?”
His smile is more strained now and it’s obvious she hit a nerve. Good.
“How would you know? You’ve never tried.” He says a bit hauntingly as if he were a noble himself. Well, he did have the looks and the brains for that, enough to account for thousands of nobles easily. “Unless... you’re afraid of being proved wrong.”
Now that was a clear challenge.
Beast or human, she never backed down from a challenge.
“Don’t complain when I start sleeping.” She barks and goes back to her original plan, almost running out of the room, absolutely not waiting for him.
This dust was killing her. And a certain pretty boy too.
“You won’t! I’ll pick a great book, promise!” He says so confidently that it almost convinces her.
She doesn’t need to turn to know he’s showing that beautiful smile reserved only for books.
She shuts down the impossible, frankly disgusting wish that pops into her mind. It is so ridiculous that even her kind servants would laugh at her. Imagine, wishing that maybe that smile could someday be reserved for her.
Kind, smart and beautiful men like Beau do not have time for ugly, cursed beasts like her.
Their first book was handpicked by Beau. An exciting, magical adventure but on the shorter side, easier to follow. It looked like a verifiable bible to her. He assured her she would love it.
While she didn’t care much for the idea of reading, spending time with him was always an immediate and clear yes from Beast.
It was a story of dazzling sword fights, a prince who wasn’t quite a prince, a genie and a lot of spells and magic.
Beau couldn’t have known about the curse. And yet, he chose something so close to the situation at hand that it was a bit scary. He was a lover of fantasy and magic, he’d said so himself.
She wondered if he would find the same joy should he ever find out about the curse.
No. That is not a thing to even contemplate. He will never find out.
It is enough that Beast keeps him as a prisoner here, making him waste his youth and beauty in this cursed palace against his will.
She could never ask more than that.
The book had been surprisingly interesting, to Beau’s credit.
And, in the end, shocking to her.
“So Aladdin just... released him? What about his last wish??” She was aghast and propped against him, demanding answers.
“Well, he made a promise. In the end, he was truthful.” Beau explained kindly.
Maybe stories like these were what inspired Beau to be so honest and truthful?
Would she have been different had she grown up hearing such stories?
“But, but!” She jumps a bit and rests her head on his knee as she glances at the closed book. “What if the sultan hadn’t changed the law? Then he would never have married Jasmine as a prince!”
Beau laughs delightedly, clearly pleased that she not only paid attention but enjoyed the story. “Indeed. He couldn’t have known what would happen. But he was honest with himself. He knew who he was.”
He knew who he was…
“Even if he was just a street rat?”
“Oh, but Beast, that’s not all he was!” Beau ruffles her ears just as she likes it. He often did this during their reading sessions. “He was a good soul. A diamond in the rough!”
A good soul.
Even if he was born as a nobody.
“Beast? What’s wrong?”
They both realize her ears were droopy since this conversation started. She hates how even in this hideous appearance she was still so easy to read. She couldn’t even hide when she was sad since her ears said it all. Or her fur would lay it all out when she was scared or angry.
“What if... it was the opposite?”
Beau blinks. He waits for her to explain.
Resisting the urge to scratch at her fur, she knows she needs to say it now, or Beau will not let it go.
“As in... born rich but with a... bad soul?” It hurt to even say the words, though it was the truth, for once. “What about someone like that?”
The silence was deafening. It seemed like time had frozen still.
Beast briefly wonders if this was another curse.
But Beau is looking at her and breathing normally. Just very quiet, pondering.
She wonders if she’d said too much. If this was too obvious and the final clue Beau needed. She knows he’s been trying to understand what is going on in this castle and its inhabitants. It wouldn’t surprise her if he did figure it out. He is smart and incredible like that.
Suddenly, his hand is back at ruffling her ears, first the left and then the right. He has that kind smile again, just like back in the storm, all those months ago.
“I believe everyone gets a chance to be better.” Beau says as if this is the truth of this world. Maybe it is. “If they want to, that is.” And at that, he frowns and looks to the side.
At first, she freezes and wonders if he meant her. But she realizes he is somewhere else entirely, thinking of others. Maybe people back from his village.
There is no jealousy to be felt here. Even with her limited social knowledge, Beast can tell he doesn’t think too fondly of whoever it is.
Only later, when it is all said and done, does she learn about the best huntress in his village. The very same one that came for her mounted beastly head.
Her hearing is usually one of the few acceptable things in this body. It is much better than a human’s hearing capabilities, after all.
One would think it a blessing. It is, however, a curse more often than not. A secondary curse, thanks to the so-called fairy (that could only be a witch).
For Beast heard it all. Her servants’ cries of despair when they thought she was far away; how most gave up hope completely of breaking the curse. How they missed their human bodies. The things they wish they could still do. The places they could never visit again and the endless questions of how their loved ones from distant villages were faring.
Little Chip’s questions to her father hurt the most of all. For the little broken teacup barely recalled being a human and so, anything human-related was a mystery to her.
It hurt too much to listen. Beast would always run to the woods then. What could she even say after all, when it was all her fault.
There was nothing good brought by hearing or seeing too much.
Until the day Beast heard Beau talking with Mr. Potts and Monsieur de la Grande Bouche. This was a habit she was trying to stop to at least give Beau some semblance of privacy.
Her paws struck to the ground when she heard the question.
“Sooo, what do you think of our mistress?” Monsieur is quick to the question as he seems to be showing clothes to Beau, by the sound of it.
She shouldn’t be here. Not listening to this.
“Monsieur!” Mr. Potts berates the wardrobe as Beast breathes a sign of relief from the corridor, far enough for them to hear. “But darling Beau, what do you think of her? How about another cup?”
Ugh. Even Mr. Potts, of all people! Ehm, objects.
Beast must leave. Now. She cannot listen to this.
Her heart won’t be able to take this.
As kind as Beau is, even he can’t pretend to be fine. This would be the way to find the truth but- but she shouldn’t.
Not like this.
She moves silently away from the door, tears in her eyes already.
Her ears (and heart) still plays tricks on her, making her think Beau uttered the word ‘adorable’. Impossible.
It was probably ‘horrible’. Or ‘hideous’.
Her servants cannot convince her otherwise, even if they insist.
“Mistress, the petals…” Lumière asks, half in fear and half anxious. He and the other servants don’t act as fearful of her anymore.
Probably because she is no longer destroying half the palace in one of her fits of rage.
Now there isn’t much room for rage or violence in her heart.
She finds it filled with something new altogether.
Sadness.
For the day Beau will leave her will come soon enough.
And the rose keeps mocking her, as the remaining petals fall off mercilessly.
“What is our next book, Beau?” She demands more than ask, in her usual haughty tone.
Beau smiles surprised at that. “We just finished this book! Are you sure you want to start a new one?” He, obviously, is more than ready to start.
She hates it when someone looks down on her. And reading books was her new favorite pastime, to everyone’s surprise. Of course, it helped having such a beautiful voice as Beau’s lovingly reading every sentence and acting out all dialogue. It was even more wonderful when he’d scratch her ears or pat her head during reading. Even though it was a mindless act while he was focused on reading, it still made her heart skip (many) beats.
“If I said I want to read another book, then that’s what I want.” She bares her fangs, just a bit, and grunts. Still sitting in the same position, close to him enough that she can read the pages (as he now is making her read some sections out loud) and with her head in prime position for patting.
Beau chuckles happily.
“Well, then! I have just the right book.” He moves to the shelf closest to them and gets a book that was next in line.
She always avoided seeing the titles since she enjoyed the surprise (and not like she would know the stories by the titles anyhow).
Beau sits down and moves their chairs closer together. He opens the book in the center of them and motions for her to read.
She stalls a bit. She never started a book before. He’d always given her the easiest narration paragraphs and dialogues.
But if he believed she was ready to read, then she absolutely was. She would not disappoint him. Besides, there didn’t seem to be a lot of long sentences anyhow. It looked like some sort of play.
Beast cleaned her throat and changed her posture, trying to emulate her old princess poise. It doesn’t quite work for long since she needs to lean down to look at the words closer. She always had to be close to the book to tell the letters apart.
“Th…”
“Two”, Beau supplied.
“I knew that.” She has to fight for a bit of pride here.
“Two households, both alike in dignity, In fair Verona…” She eventually completes the first sentence, though it takes time.
Beast still does her best, reading every word as she learns, with the utmost care. Beau’s encouraging smile at her side is all the motivation she needs.
“Cogsworth, be honest.” She orders in that tone that always works with him.
As much as she loves the other two, Eve knows that the old bumbling but lovable clock is the most honest of them. Or, at least, the most prone to blabbing out the truth. And right now, she needs honesty.
“Do I look… passable?” The hesitation and fear in her voice is so unlike her, be it as a beast or a human.
This is a question she had never asked before, when she was a human. She knew then that she looked the most beautiful, at every ball. Had she met Beau before, that certainty would’ve been dashed much sooner.
But now, as this beastly thing, it was a sore sight even after hours and hours of her servants’ best efforts.
Her fur had been well cleaned and brushed — a very painful process, let it be known — but it was still fur. There was (hopefully) none of the smell from when she refused to bathe or spent her time skulking indoors or running through the forest.
A very painfully yellow ribbon holds a tuft of fur up in what can only be described as ugly trying too hard to be cute.
None of her dresses fit her. They are all ripped at the seams, some ruined beyond repair after her claws tore through them during her first year as a beast.
Her servants are nothing if not loyal and determined, however. They manage to salvage one of the yellow gown ball dresses. It still doesn’t fit her well enough so a navy marine coat was sewn together to adjust.
It had been her father’s coat. And the dress was chosen by her mother (or one of her servants, she never could quite tell). An outfit filled with memories of the past.
Beast could not pretend her reflection was beautiful.
It wasn’t.
Much less passable. Nevermind the ‘adorable’ traitorous word that never left her mind, especially as it was most likely ‘horrible’.
The opinions of others never mattered to her before, no matter if they hated or loved her (though she wondered how many truly did love her).
Beau’s opinions mattered.
She wanted him to respect her. Not fear her (never again). Just like her.
He would never love her and the curse would never be broken. Beast had long accepted that. But she would never be able to stand him hating her.
It didn’t matter that she loved him most of all, not to curse.
Tonight, she would show him the mirror. And the rose.
She would explain everything and let him leave, finally, to be with his mother.
To earn his happy ending.
Eve had taken enough of his time and endless patience.
And if tonight was their last time together, she wanted to make it a memorable one. A night that she would remember fondly for the rest of her life as a beast.
She had shown him all her bad sides, her beastly ones (ironically, the ones from when she was a human). Tonight, she wanted to show him the best she could be — as awkward and bumbling as she was.
How she wishes she could be the only one to live with this curse, alone in this palace. At least then it would have some sense of justice, even if a twisted one. The rest of the old humans didn’t deserve such a fate.
She wishes she could also set them free, late as it might be.
The ballroom is beautifully set. Everyone really did their very best. It’s so similar to the old days, how it used to be filled with laughter, music and dance. But it always felt empty and a chore, at least to her.
Tonight, it felt like an entirely different place, even though she spent her whole life here. There was no orchestra but music filled her years as soon as she saw Beau.
Truly, the most beautiful of them all. And, most importantly, he had beauty within.
Something she never did.
Dancing was never something she excelled at, though as a human she did well enough being led across the ballroom. She never quite shone but then again, it was a lady’s duty to not outshine her gentleman. It had always been a transaction, a theater of sorts. Where she was always watched.
Beau, as always, changes everything completely to its very core. It shouldn’t still surprise her, but somehow it does, every time.
The best she can do is describe it as if walking on clouds. Perhaps even lighter and freer than that.
She wishes time could stop now.
Then, it would all be forgotten: the curse, all her sins and past mistakes, the guilt for making everyone in the castle suffer her fate, keeping someone as wonderful as Beau as a prisoner, her own hideous self… if only time would stop in this moment. The happiest one in her life.
With Beau looking at her with those kind eyes of his and dancing with her as if she was the only one in the world.
This is the most beautiful she’s ever felt.