A/N: Thirteen story ideas in three weeks…and counting… *groans* Yeah, I am definitely obsessed. This story is basically me doing a retelling of Beauty and the Beast with Princess Tutu characters. Why? Several reasons. First: this is my favorite Disney movie ever and I have loved it since I saw it in theaters back in 1991 when it first came out. Best. Protagonist. Death scene. Ever. At least in a Disney movie. Tangled rates a close second. Lion King ranks third (mostly because we see Mufasa fall, and we see him after he's dead…but we don't actually see him die. That drops its rating.) And yes I do actually rate the quality of death scenes in the Disney movies I watch. The more tragic and dramatic the death…the higher I rate it. I have problems. Second: I also enjoy the original story the movie was based on. I was born in the mid-1980s, so I had the opportunity to watch a wonderful show on PBS called 'Long Ago and Far Away' which presented myths, folk, and fairy tales from around the world. The introductions of the early episodes were done by James Earl Jones (who has an amazing voice). The original Beauty and the Beast was not the focus of one of the episodes, but it was on the show. I watched it. I loved it. I still love it. I miss that show… Third: I KEEP SEEING FANART AND ONESHOTS FOR THIS BUT NO ACTUAL FULL LENGTH FICS…this must be corrected. Fourth: Fakir fits the role of the Beast so well I honestly cannot resist the temptation…also gives me the chance to make Ahiru Belle…and DEATH SCENE! EEEEE! I have it all planned out and it gives me such a warm tingly feeling… EEEEE! *blinks innocently* What? He gets better. That's canon for both versions of the story. I have that part planned out too… It also makes me all warm and tingly…I just like death scenes more. So yeah, this is happening. It won't match the movie perfectly because I am tying in some things from the original version. Also, who knows what the characters will end up doing in their roles? I sure don't. It's more fun for me to let my characters direct the story. There's an underlying plot that provides the base framework…but their choices and actions are seldom planned by me in any real detail. Events are planned. How the characters react to them are not. I am often surprised by the shape my stories take. It's more fun that way. Wow…this author's note got long. I'll cut it off here and begin my prologue. Must…listen…to…film…soundtrack…as…I…write! LEITMOTIF! Sorry. Let us begin. Present Day edit: Just so you know, I started writing this the same week I started writing The Knight's Tale. So all of the stuff in my author's notes dates back to last September/October. My current Princess Tutu fic idea backlog is now closer to 46 concepts; 31 of which have rough plot outlines sketched out. That isn't counting all of the ideas that never even made it to concept stage…those number somewhere in the hundreds… This is why I call the paralysis caused by having TOO MANY ideas Writer's Flood. Welcome to my life…

Disclaimer: I own neither Princess Tutu nor Beauty and the Beast (either version). I exist on the fringes of the poverty line due to my absolute refusal to spend money if I can avoid it (if I didn't I'd be permanently broke…instead I'm only sometimes broke). There is no point in suing me because it will cost you way more than you will get out of me. That would be stupid. Don't be stupid.

Prologue: A Curse is Laid

Once upon a time, there was a beautiful queen and noble king who ruled their land from a beautiful castle high in the mountains. The king and queen were well beloved by their subjects, but were themselves discontent for they did not yet have an heir to the throne. They prayed time and again for their marriage to be blessed with children, but for years these prayers went unanswered. Then, finally, when they were about to give up hope, the queen got pregnant. Soon a child was born: a son. The young prince was doted upon heavily by his parents and he was just as deeply attached to them. Yet tragedy struck when he was still quite young.

His parents were killed in a carriage crash on their way back from a diplomatic meeting; they had been traveling faster than was really safe for that time of year because it was almost his birthday and they wanted to celebrate it with him. He didn't get the news until moments before the party was due to start and it utterly shattered him. His servants did their best to help him recover from the loss yet he never fully got over their deaths. The prince loved his parents dearly and losing them so young…he grew to fear love itself for – as his young mind concluded – it would only ever bring him pain and anguish. Ultimately, it drove him to forsake the feeling entirely; never again would he suffer the pain of loss for never again would he allow himself to love. His servants tried to bring him out of his shell, but to no avail.

Years passed and the prince grew up under his servants care. They never indulged him as much as his parents had, so he managed to avoid becoming spoiled. Yet he was prideful. He did not handle perceived insults very well and it could drive him to act rashly. Furthermore, he was cold and short tempered…and yet – in spite of his best efforts – he failed at abandoning all love entirely. He cared about his servants for they were the closest thing he had to a family, and he cared about the safety and well-being of his subjects…most of the time. His temper could blind him and drive him to cruel extremes. However, his servants always did their best to soothe any injured feelings their prince's abrasive personality might have caused. They knew he regretted those outbursts and that the only reason he never apologized himself was because he was too proud to do so.

Yet his behavior would soon cost him dearly. Word had spread of the young prince's callous and remote nature until finally it reached the ears of a wandering enchantress. Troubled by what she heard, she set out to seek out the truth behind these rumors for herself. She decided the best way to do this would be to test him and so she wove an illusion about her form before enchanting a rose from her favorite rose bush with a powerful spell. If the prince showed that he could be kind, then the rose would bring him happiness and good fortune. Yet if he proved the rumors to be true…a curse would befall him and his entire household. Enchanted rose in hand, she set out for the prince's castle.

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Bored green eyes drifted over the party his servants had thrown in honor of his birthday. The prince appreciated the thought, but he didn't particularly enjoy parties all that much. One of the guests would always end up trying to butter him up with flattery at some point, or try to set him up with one of their daughters, or some other thing that was guaranteed to tick him off. Then he'd lose his temper, say something they'd take badly, and either Raetsel, Autor, or Mytho would chase them down and attempt to soothe their hurt feelings while he stalked off to cool down. Worse, Raetsel and Mytho would track him down later and berate him for losing his temper. It wasn't his fault all the nobles of his kingdom were self-serving idiots. Plus it just felt wrong to celebrate on the anniversary of the day he received news of his parents' deaths.

The prince wondered how much of a lecture he'd get if he slipped away and holed up in his ballet studio until the party was over. He was already depressed, and the air of celebration was not helping at all. If anything, it was making his mood even worse. Practicing ballet, on the other hand, always cheered him up when he was in a bad mood. "I'm going to be lectured either way," he muttered with a faint sigh, "So I may as well leave. At least then I'll be in a better state of mind when the inevitable lecturing begins." Slowly, he started edging his way along the walls of the ballroom towards the door. Unfortunately, he didn't quite make it before one of his servants spotted him.

The dark-haired prince cursed as his chamberlain intercepted him with a disapproving look on his face. "Don't start," the prince grumbled before the young man could open his mouth, "Just let me pass." "Tired of the festivities already," his young chamberlain pushed his glasses up his nose with a smirk. "You know full well I hate parties and why," the prince glowered, "I don't know why you all insist on throwing one every year." "I can't speak for everyone else," the chamberlain frowned, "But I do it because my father made me promise to do so when I took over his position. It was his only condition and I couldn't exactly refuse seeing as he was on his death-bed." The prince groaned and covered his face with his hand, "Meaning I'm going to have to put up with this for the rest of my life… Wonderful." "Afraid so," and the smirk was back, "Now why don't you go mingle with your guests for a bit."

"Autor," the taller young man muttered, "With the mood I'm in I'd only end up snapping at somebody before the end of the night. We both know it's inevitable if I stay. I really don't want to listen to yet another lecture about controlling my temper, so I am leaving before someone does something stupid to set me off." Autor shook his head, "That would be rude to your guests." "They already think I'm a poor excuse for a prince," the prince stated dryly, "They won't be surprised." "Still," Autor tried to continue, but was interrupted when the other young man lunged forward and grabbed ahold of his cravat. The young chamberlain swallowed hard in the face of the vicious glare on his prince's face as he hissed, "Enough. I am ordering you to let me pass. Do not try to stop me…or I will make your life a living hell." Autor nodded shakily and stepped to the side as the prince released him.

The young chamberlain pressed his hand to his chest to calm his racing heart as he watched the prince make a bee-line for the ballroom doors. "That attitude of his is going to get him in trouble one day," an amused female voice stated. The young man blushed and turned slowly, "Miss Rue. Yes, I quite agree. Did you…er…need something?" "Just was wondering if you'd seen Mytho lately," Rue replied, "He promised to dance with me tonight, but I can't seem to find him." Autor slumped slightly, "Oh…of course. I think he was over by the refreshment table last I saw." "Right. Thank you," the dark haired head maid nodded and headed off to seek out her target.

The young chamberlain sighed with longing as he watched her walk away before he felt someone pat him on the head. "You really should let go of that crush, Autor," a soft female voice advised, "You know she only has eyes for Mytho." "I know, Raetsel," Autor huffed, "But she's just so lovely…" "And taken," the head of kitchen staff stated firmly, "It's not healthy for you to pine over her, and it's only causing tension between you and Mytho. I'd rather not see you boys come to blows." Autor sighed and nodded, "I'll try." He then straightened his cravat and headed into the thick of the party. He had work to do; after all, as head of the household, he was responsible for ensuring that the party continued to run smoothly.

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The prince sighed in relief as he reached the ballet studio in the castle's north wing. Here he could finally relax without having to worry about his temper getting away from him. He knew full well it was a problem, but honestly had no idea on how to fix it. Best to just avoid the situations that set if off, he figured. The prince removed his gloves, jacket, and boots and walked over to the barre. He may as well get some practice in while he waited. Normally, he would have taken the time to get changed into his practice clothes, but he didn't feel like heading all the way up to his room, getting changed, and making his way all the way back down to the practice room. He'd rather spend the time squeezing in as much dancing as he could.

These days the prince felt as though he had far fewer opportunities than he would like to practice ballet. It felt as though the older he got the less freedom he had as more and more of his time was tied up with official matters. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly before he started his warm up routine. He ran through the basics before moving on to more complex forms. Once he felt fully warmed up he moved into the center of the room and began one of his standard practice routines. He truly loved ballet more than anything. It was one of the few things that could still make him smile. Part of him earnestly wished that he wasn't a prince so he could study ballet full time. Maybe even become a professional dancer someday.

However, that was not an option for a person of his station. It might be an acceptable hobby, but he was not free to make a living at it. He found similar frustrations in his pursuit of becoming a writer. Again, writing stories and poems was an acceptable hobby for royalty, but he was not allowed to pursue it full time. His duties as a prince kept getting in the way. He'd mostly gotten the resentment out of his system, but he still wished that he had a bit more freedom with how he lived his life. 'Sometimes,' the prince admitted to himself as he danced, 'It feels like I'm trapped in a gilded cage. Mother… Father… Did either of you ever feel trapped like this when you were younger? I wish you could tell me… I miss you both so much…' He poured his frustration and grief into his dancing and by the time he finished his routine he felt much calmer.

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By the time the prince returned to the ballroom the guests had left and his servants were cleaning up. As he expected, he got disapproving looks from both Mytho and Raetsel, but they didn't approach him. Though Mytho's acceptance was probably related to the dark-haired maid hovering by his shoulder and occasionally brushing her hand across the back of his neck as she directed the other maids about their tasks; his eyes glazed over every time she did that. 'Thank you, Rue, for being such an effective distraction,' the prince smirked. His amusement at the maitre'd's infatuation was interrupted by a resounding knock at the castle door. His servants hesitated and looked towards the door in surprise. The party had already ended and it was quite late; plus it had been stormy on and off all week and the clouds had looked threatening all day. It was just on the threshold between spring and winter, so it could portend either a blizzard or an early thunderstorm. Neither was really pleasant to be caught in. That was why the guests had left; they wanted to avoid getting caught in the capricious mountain weather.

The prince frowned as he glanced down the main hall towards the castle doors, "I thought everyone had gone." "They did," Mytho replied as he walked over to stand by his prince, "The storm outside finally started to show signs that it was ready to stop posturing and actually deliver. Even if someone had forgotten something they wouldn't have returned. They'd risk getting caught outside when the weather turned foul again." The knock came again and somehow managed to sound even more insistent the second time. The prince glanced wryly at his maitre'd, "Then apparently someone lacks basic self-preservation instincts."

"Shall I answer the door, then," the other young man asked. The prince shook his head, "No. I'll take care of it. You all focus on cleaning things up." Mytho nodded and walked back over to assist Raetsel as the prince made his way over to the doors. Technically, it was the young maitre'd's job to answer the castle doors and greet guests, but he was used to his master insisting on doing such things himself. The young man was far more independent than was considered proper for a prince as he made a habit of doing things that were technically beneath his station; not that he cared.

The prince huffed in annoyance as the knock came a third time. "All right. All right. Be patient," he muttered as he grasped the door handle and pulled it open. He raised an eyebrow as he beheld the homely form of an old beggar woman hunched over on the front steps. "What do you want, old crone," he asked disinterestedly. "Please, my lord, I seek shelter for the night," the old woman quavered. "This is a castle," the prince stated flatly, "Not an inn or farmhouse. I'm not exactly in the habit of accepting surprise guests." Mostly because his servants needed advance notice to clear out all the dust since the spare rooms typically remained shut and locked when they weren't needed.

The only other alternative was the stables and he wasn't comfortable sending even a peasant to stay there if he could avoid it…even if they were warm and dry. Still, it was probably preferable to dying in a mountain storm and he was leaning towards telling her she could stay when she spoke up again, "I can pay." The old woman raised her head as she spoke to reveal a horrendous visage yet the prince didn't even flinch at her appearance as he replied, "Is that so?" He was mildly insulted that she thought he would require payment to persuade him. He wasn't that cold-hearted regardless of what the rumors claimed.

The old woman reached into her cloak to pull out a single red rose, "Yes. With this." The prince's temper pulsed warningly as he scoffed, "A rose? You must be joking. Why would I want something useless like that?" This crone was just compounding the insults. First she assumes she needs to bribe him and then she tries to offer something worthless as a bribe. It was making him angry. "This is no ordinary rose," the old woman cautioned, "It has far more value than you might think." The prince scowled as his temper started to seize control, "Are you trying to insult me? What value could a dying flower possibly have? Get out of here before I lose my patience."

"But there's no way I'll make it to shelter before the storm breaks," the old woman pleaded, "And these mountain storms are far too severe for my old body to handle. Please let me stay in your castle. I'll surely die otherwise!" "Then you shouldn't have come out this way in the first place," the prince replied coldly, "Leave. Now." His anger had fully blinded him by that point, and it was all he could do to keep himself from striking her. She needed to leave before he lost all control. "But," the old woman quavered. "I said no," the prince snarled viciously as he slammed the door shut in her face. He turned to stalk away when the doors suddenly flew open behind him.

As he turned in shock the old woman's form melted away to reveal a pale woman with green hair styled in an exotic fashion. The woman was as fair as the crone had been ugly and the prince realized she had been no mere beggar after all…she was an enchantress. He swallowed hard and took a step back warily, "Who are you?" "My name is Edel," the enchantress said in an airy tone. "What…," the prince started to ask uneasily. "I had heard the prince of this castle was a cold and callous youth," Edel cut him off in the same even tone, "And I wished to find out the truth for myself. I intended to test you…and you have failed my test." The prince took another step back, "I… I know I'm not very good at living up to the ideal of what a prince should be…but…surely you can excuse that… It's not as though I'm a tyrant or anything… I just…"

"Enough," the enchantress' voice dropped from its airy tone to become hard. The prince froze as she continued to speak, "You were willing to condemn an old woman to death because she insulted your pride. Your heart is as cold as ice, oh prince. You may not be a tyrant, but such cruelty may not go unpunished." The prince started to shake as he realized just how much trouble he was in, "I'm sorry! I know my temper is a problem! I've tried to control it, but… I'm not perfect! Please just have mercy!" "I cannot," Edel replied and the prince fell to his knees in dismay. He knew he was doomed, but he feared for the others of his household. Surely she would show them mercy if he took responsibility for his actions. He clung to that hope as he bowed his head. "Then please…leave my servants out of this," he pleaded desperately, "I am the one at fault not them. Spare them and do what you wish with me." "I cannot," Edel repeated as she raised the rose in her hand high over her head.

A great wind sprung up around the enchantress and forced the prince to cover his eyes to shield them from debris from his position on the floor. Edel's voice echoed in his ears as she pronounced her curse, "Oh prince, your pride is truly monstrous, and so I place a curse upon your household. All who dwell in this place shall take on a new form that reflects their station in life while its power holds. As for you, oh prince, you shall be transformed into a shape more befitting your terrible pride. You shall become a monster for as long as my curse's power holds." The prince cried out in pain as the curse took hold and warped his flesh and bone.

His body became covered in smooth scales the same dark green shade as his hair, his hands and feet sprouted gleaming black talons as sharp as knives, his bones grew and rearranged themselves to support a quadrupedal posture if need be, a long reptilian tail burst from the end of his spine, his hair thickened and lengthened to become a flowing mane, luxuriant feathered wings burst from his shoulder blades, two black horns burst out just above his temples, his ears grew long and pointed with a frilled edge, his eyes gained reptilian slit pupils, and his mouth was filled with dagger sharp teeth with two long canine fangs on his upper jaw peeking out over his bottom lip. His clothes were torn into shreds as his frame grew to match the changes taking place and barely covered his trembling form as he collapsed in a heap from the agony of the transformation.

The prince lay crumpled on the floor of his castle as the transformation completed itself and gasped weakly for breath as the pain slowly faded. Dimly he registered that the enchantress was still speaking, "I am not entirely without mercy, however, for there is a way in which this curse may be broken. Pride, after all, is nothing more than excessive love of one's self. If you can learn to forsake this selfish love, and instead give your love to another while earning their love in return, then the curse will release you. However, if you cannot do so before the last petal on this enchanted rose falls, then you will die and your servants will remain in their transformed states…forever." Edel slowly walked forward and knelt next to the transformed prince where she gently set the rose on the ground next to him.

As he watched the enchantress stand and walk away the prince heard the frightened cries of his servants ring out as they discovered their own transformations. Yet he could do nothing more than lie on the floor as his feelings of guilt grew. 'This…is my fault,' he realized as bitter tears welled up in his eyes, 'Because I failed to control this damned temper of mine…we've been brought to this… I'm so sorry, everyone… Forgive me…' The transformed prince shuddered, curled into a ball, and cried for the first time in years as regret for his actions consumed him. He was still weeping quietly when his servants finally found him and learned exactly what fate had befallen them all.

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Years passed and the transformed prince realized there was little hope of his curse being broken. No one had come by the castle since the curse took hold and most went out of their way to avoid it. The prince was forgotten by his subjects as they went about their lives unaware of his fate. His pride had not lasted long at all before it was consumed by shame and remorse. Soon after his pride failed, the prince-turned-beast gave into his self-loathing and despair. No one would ever love him. How could they? He had closed himself off from that feeling years ago and barely remembered how it even felt.

Worse, his appearance practically screamed apex predator. His looks would scare off anyone before they could even attempt to get to know him. He was going to die alone…and a large part of him felt he deserved this fate. He didn't deserve to be loved…not after everything his foolish pride had brought upon the only people to truly care for him. He truly was a monster… Yet his servants did not deserve to suffer for eternity as the common household implements they had been changed into. Within the walls of his castle, he prayed desperately for someone, anyone, to give him a chance. Not for his sake…but for theirs…

A/N: And that's the prologue. That was fun to write. Was it also fun to read? I hope so. I love writing. I really do. I sometimes think I might even be addicted to it. It sure would explain why I tend to forget to bathe…and eat…and sometimes drink when I write. The world effectively ceases to exist and all there is is me, my laptop, and the story taking form under my fingers. Geez…no wonder I like Princess Tutu. Stories are kind of my life. Reading them, writing them, building the worlds they take place in. The power of stories is a major theme of the anime…and I get that. Also I just love classical music, so the soundtrack makes me squeal with glee. Also has interesting characters…except for Mytho for a majority of the series. Once he stops being a male damsel in distress I kind of like him, in fact. Otherwise he bores me…also he's too pretty. All the other main characters are wonderful though. Particularly Rue and Fakir…CHARACTER GROWTH! EEEEEEEE! What? I like their character arcs a lot. Fakir is still my favorite though. Poor guy… Regarding his transformation…I decided I wanted his beast form to look dragon-ish. I like dragons a lot. Plus when I first saw Fakir I kind of thought he'd make a good dragon. This opinion only strengthened as the series progressed. His appearance is reminiscent of the Ancient Dragons from Slayers TRY. Don't know what they look like? Easiest way to find out would be to type in an image search for 'Val-gaav'. At one point in the series he partially transforms into his dragon state (feathered wings and his arms are covered in scales and end in talons). Cover the entire body in those scales, add dragon-like legs and a tail, and you've basically got an idea of what Fakir's beast form looks like. Or you could just watch the anime. TRY was an interesting season… One of my favorites really. Because DRAGONS! Also Xellos came back. I enjoy Xellos. And I'm rambling. DAMMIT! BACK TO STORY RELEVANT THINGS! Some of you might be…less than thrilled by the fact that the curse will kill him if he fails to break it instead of going with the Disney version's 'remain a beast forever' consequence. Thing is…the fatal bit is slightly more true to the original fairy-tale. If you read it, or look up the segment that aired in Long Ago & Far Away to watch it, the Beast is lying lifelessly in his garden when Belle returns after leaving to see her father. I don't think it is ever clarified why, but the implication is that the curse he is under will kill him if he is separated from her for more than a week after she comes to live with him. I've found versions that state that the Beast is only near death at this point and not fully dead, and others that say he's actually dead…at least until Belle breaks the curse. No idea which is more accurate because I don't know French, so it's not like I can read the original. So fair warning: close to the climax…there will be sad feels. Because dying is not fun.