A Life No One Could Touch

Once Upon A Time, in a faraway land, a young princess lived in a shining castle. Although she had everything her heart desired, she was unspoiled, selfless, and kind. She had a gentle, loving soul, and was well beloved by her people.

Her father was the King, and her mother a scholar. They raised her with wit and intelligence, exposing her to the best of native and foreign literature, music, and history. The King ruled with a fair hand, and the Queen with a gentle heart, and although they would have their arguments, they remained patient, firm, and loving, as any family should be.

But it did not last.

When the princess was on the cusp of womanhood, her mother fell gravely ill. The doctors from every direction did not know what was wrong, as none of the diagnoses or cures were accurate. She started to fade, like a flower drained of its color by the sun. The King spent all of his time in the royal chambers, and never left his wife's side. But the princess was kept away, for fear that her mother's malady would be contagious. She would cry for her, as the nursemaids and tutors tried in vain to keep her focused on her lessons.

The mysterious illness was solved when the physicians realized the Queen was with child. The life within her had ended, and the toll was taking hers as well. There was nothing the doctors could do – the Queen would die if the child remained inside for any longer, and yet to induce labor would kill her also. The King was at a loss. No one knew what to do, until fate stepped in and made the choice. The Queen suddenly went into childbirth, and by evening she had delivered a barely formed baby boy.

Exhausted, the Queen's life was slipping away fast with fever and hallucinations. In a moment of lucidity, she called for her daughter to be brought to her side. The order was obeyed without question, and the tearful princess came and took her mother's hand. The frail Queen spoke to her for the last time; in a raspy voice, she told her to be good, obey her father, and to never let anything prevent her to love. Then the Queen slipped away, her fingers still entwined in her daughter's.

The King and the princess mourned her for several years. The sun had lost its shine, the flowers their smell, and the birds their song. Many would have expected the princess to grow cold and bitter, but she retained the love and kindness her mother instilled in her. The King tried to do the same, to be there for himself and his daughter, but slowly, he began to spend more and more time alone in his quarters. Some whispered that he was slowly going mad with grief.

Without his stability and input, the court had begun to believe him incapable of ruling, and began to look to the princess for guidance. In the distraction of the Queen's death and the King's failing sanity, the kingdom had failed to notice that the princess had grown up into a young woman of great beauty. Her rearing had more than prepared her to accept the challenge of ruling, and as loathe as she was to admit, there was no way she could bring her father out of his madness. So with little choice and much fear, she took the role of ruler into her own hands. She was declared regent, and the kingdom awoke, as if from a deep sleep. The mourning cloths were taken down, the mirrors were uncovered, and everyone started to readjust to their lives. The princess' vast knowledge and firm hand stirred new life back into the kingdom, particularly its army, fields, and banks. The people knew that they could come to the regent with their problems and expect her to find fair answers. If the princess had shown any fear or doubt, she made it known only to her advisors. The neighboring countries sat up and took notice.

As did their princes.

They saw how she handled her role of authority. They saw how the land had begun to prosper. And they saw how the people loved her. But the thing they noticed most was her great beauty. Eyes like pale blue pearls. Lips red as the poppies. Skin like porcelain. And hair as fiery as the summer sunset. The princes, be they the firstborn sons and heirs of their own land, or the younger sons with little to no money to their name, wanted her. All vied for and sought her hand, arriving at the castle in droves and offering all of their charms, manners, and wiles to win her. As for the princess, she was delighted and disconcerted by the sudden attention. Her father's absence had left her lonely, and she was eager for company and friendship. Against her advisors' warnings, she wore her heart on her sleeve, and began to let herself be charmed and wooed, if only for the simple purpose of wanting to be wanted.

Of the princes, there was one particular young man. He was young and arrogant, and skilled in magic. Once he had seen the princess's portrait, there was nothing and no one that could dissuade him from seeking her hand. And when he first arrived at the castle, he filled the princess's days with laughter and wit, entertaining her with little feats of enchantment and philosophical discussions that went long into the night. For the first time in what seemed months, years even, the princess thought she could smile and laugh freely again, like she did when her mother was still alive, and her father still recognized her face.

But it did not last.

It wasn't long before the prince's cold heart began to reveal itself. He was cruel to the footmen, emptying his drink over their heads. He rode horses savagely, until their necks foamed. He began to order commands that weren't his to give. And he mocked the old king and his grief. The princess, far from stupid, recognized his actions early on, yet refused to come to terms with it. But he continued in his boorish ways, and persisted every day with proposals of marriage, until she grew to hate the very sight of him.

The last straw came on her birthday, when the festivities were interrupted once more by the prince's rude appearance, and yet another proposal, this time more persistent than ever. The princess refused once again, in front of the entire court, humiliating the prince. And in a moment of pure lust, desperation, and arrogance, the prince grabbed her by the waist, and forced a kiss from her. In front of everyone, she slapped him hard in the face, enough to send him sprawling to the floor.

Rage consumed him. He shouted that if he couldn't touch her, then no man ever would. So he cursed her to become a being of fire, to burn anyone who touched or came near her, and to remain so for the rest of her life. At once, the princess lit up and burst into flame, torching her beautiful gown and the gilded ballroom. People began to scream, and trampled each other in the effort to escape. As the desperate princess tried to follow, she ended up burning down a fair portion of the castle. She tried to stop the flames, but had no control over it, and was separated from everyone else by a wall of fire. Nobody could go rescue her, and could only watch in silent horror, as the castle collapsed in on itself.

It was believed that the princess had burned to death, along with her father and several servants. The news spread that the monarchs were no more, and chaos erupted. A new ruler took the throne. The kingdom mourned, and all were forbidden to mention the princess's name, as well as what took place at the fateful ball. Under the new ruler's hand, the country crumbled again, and all seemed lost. Those who had known the princess could only wonder if her heart had been too big and trusting.

And among the peasants, there arose legends. Legends of a monster made of fire, who guarded the castle ruins. That it prevented anyone from crossing into the forest, and was cursed to guard the princess's remains, until the princess should come back to life, or something quenched its' thirst.

Hey! Soooo...this is kind of a genderswap of BatB. The whole idea came to me when I saw a painting of a girl made of fire. The title was, "A Life No One Could Touch," and it's by Britt315 on deviantart. When I saw it, the image came to me of a girl who had been abused or mistreated by a man, and developed fire powers to protect herself from ever being hurt again. Then I wondered what would happen if said girl was actually cursed by said violent man, to never know the love she wanted ever again. So, this is a loose adaptation of Beauty and the Beast, and I hope to do it justice.

Please don't hesitate to comment or ask questions. This is a work in progress, and while I can't promise orderly, perfectly written work, I can promise you magic and enchantment of some degree. :D