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Long ago, in a much forgotten part of the world, there was a castle. It was tall and marbled, the finest craftsmen had built it, a testament to their talent. Cherubs and dragons molding into the peaks, statues and guardsmen on the walls. A gate surrounded the entire place, and inside there was much life. Once it had been bright and sunny, with light touching every place. Now, the cherubs were devils, the dragons menacing, and the place twisted with a dark and maleficent energy. A figure stood in a window, of the highest tower. It was large, larger than man. Something had woken within the depths of the castle, ignored and neglected for too long. There is someone in my castle.

"Hello? Is someone there?" A voice called out, echoing in the darkness. "I have lost my way."

Come to stare at the beast, have you?

"Anybody?" The voice echoed once more, and a darkness flashed within the twisted face. He snarled turning, walking past a broken mirror. A flash of a reflection, a dark twisted figure.

A beast is not just an animal; it can be all manner of things. His sunken eyes were dark and hollow, surrounded by a twisted face, deformed and almost skeletal, skin and muscle clinging to the shell. Sunken nose and earless, this creature walked on long legs, straight and strong but none the less misshapen – like a tree trunk the muscles were woven together in a variety of waves, his arms similar. His cloak flowed around him, his teeth making a snarl out of tissue that could barely be called lips. His image ate at him, the notion that he was such a monster, detested and tortured like a creation of romantic fiction. He growled, flying down the stairs, his feet thudding like thunder as he kicked open the door.

/

The day was sunny and bright, and she stepped out with her basket. She walked dreamily down the lane towards the village, it was early and she enjoyed the quiet. Her rich dark hair matched her eyes, her simple dress did nothing for or against her. She had pale skin, littered with freckles, which made her eyes glow against the pale backdrop. Her cloak brushed against her heels, the hood bounced on her shoulders, her hair done half up, half down.

A book lay in her basket, along with flowers she picked along the way. She had read it almost overnight, since her father was on his trip – she could stay up all night if she wished to. The village was quiet, as it often was at that time, and she made her way to the book shop.

"Good morning Belle." The Baker cried, opening his door as steam rose out. She greeted him in kind, heads starting to pop out at every moment with such a greeting. Belle did not mind the usual morning banter, it was harmless enough. She knew the rumors that surrounded her, they thought she had a few screws loose, marbles for brains – and the less they knew the better. Belle really only cared about avoiding one person – the most odious man in the whole village – Gaston. A great tall fellow, whose pride and skill made him the ideal for all the young women in the village. She hated him, as much as she allowed herself to hate anyone. He had his way with all the village girls, even the young ladies, and she thought it disgusting.

Gaston was tall, with raven hair, a white smile and tanned skin from hunting. The only high point to the man was his muscles, and he had passed attractive to overbearingly strong very early in life – a point which made him unattractive to Belle, if his odious breath and temper had done so first. Walking to the end of the village, she smiled as the book keeper waved to her, opening the door.

"Finished already?" He spoke happily, not needing the obvious answer.

"I loved it! I couldn't bear to put it down."

"Well, I don't have any new books in, my dear. You have cleaned me out once again." The old man said, taking the book from her with a smile.

"Well, I shall have to read – " She looked at the shelves, looking for a title that she did not see.

"This what you are looking for?" The man asked, and she turned – smiling broadly at the book.

"Yes! How did you know?"

"I was going to give it to you for your birthday, but now is as good a time. Take it, Belle. It's yours."

"Oh, I don't know what to say!" She breathed, touching the book like she had never seen it before. "This is too much really."

"Humor an old man, why do you love it so much?"

"It is a tale of redemption and romance, but out of the common way. He is a Prince, but he hides it because he falls in love. He loses her and he becomes twisted and obsessed with revenge, only to discover she is alive, but she no longer recognizes him – she is blind. And they come to love one another once more, all in all, breaking the curse held over one another through love and endurance." She sighed, clutching the book to her chest, "I am saying it rather badly, but it is a rather marvelous story."

"Ah to be young, and in love." The man said, nodding in remembrance. "There is an old saying, true love can conquer all evil."

The girl smiled, thanking the man as she left the shop, the bell dinging as she left. The street was busy now, people were out and about; buying eggs, buying bread and exchanging in gossip. She raised her hood slightly, just enough to cast a shadow on her face. She grasped the basket, placing the book inside as she walked towards the path home. No more greetings of the morning, rather stares for the insane. She walked briskly, making it to the fountain – so close to the safe road home- when she heard his voice.

"Belle!" The voice boomed, and she smelt the mix of sweat and ale on him as he approached. She turned, bowing her head slightly.

"Good morning."

"Not as lovely as you." The great ogre replied, looming over her. He was a good 6'6 of muscle and little brain. She grimaced, but managed a smile, thanking him before excusing herself. "You shouldn't be wandering around on your own, not with your father gone away. It is dangerous."

"It is not a long distance, and it is perfectly safe. I travel it everyday, with or without Papa." She replied, moving in her intended direction. His arm stopped her, and she winced as his breath lingered while he spoke.

"It is not right for a woman to be out alone – oh?" He took the book from the basket, flipping through it as he made a face. "-It is also not right for a woman to read, it would be a shame if you got – ideas."

"May I have my book please?" She asked, extending her hand out.

"Yes,-" He drawled, leaning in as he held the book away. "But-"

"Please Gaston, may I have my book?"

"-you have do something for me." He grinned as she frowned, lowering her hand and watching him.

"What would you have me do?" She asked, careful of his intent.

"Oh anything really. A kiss from the fair maiden." He grinned as watched her face; she was a stubborn creature – attached to her vanity and maidenhood. "Perhaps, your hand in marriage?"

"Either or, the price seems too steep. I bid you good day." She replied, turning around and moving past him. She felt a heaviness on her shoulders as one of his hands grasped her, the other replacing the book in her basket.

"What of a dance, at the next ball?" He questioned, and she turned her head slightly, enough so that she saw him out of her peripheral.

"A warped exchange, but I accept." She replied, moving her shoulder to release his grasp. The man smiled, a chuckle leaking through him as she moved away, walking quickly down the road to her home. The short man came up beside him, watching the girl go. "Mark my words, I shall have her for my wife."

"You could have anyone from the village, but you had to go picking the crazy man's daughter." The man replied to his friend, passing him a musket.

"She is what I seek, she is mine." Gaston replied, narrowing his eyes at the retreating figure. He heard laughter, a woman's laughter, near him and he turned his head. A lovely young blond woman stood by the fountain, her dress leaving nothing wanting. He smiled at her, and she raised an eye brow before sauntering away - with him following.

Belle turned around once more, the oaf was now following someone away, and she was glad of it. The nerve of him, to touch a lady in public. He really was a foul creature, his smell lingered on her cloak and Belle groaned at the thought of washing it. Walking quickly back to her home, she shook her head. "Stupid fool, to promise him a dance. I now have to touch his hands, and I do not want to imagine what he has touched. I doubt he has ever washed them, or heard of soap." She muttered quietly, coming upon her house.

She smiled at the sight, a welcome reprieve from the noise of the village. A sound startled her, and she pushed back the hood of her cloak to see a great Clydesdale lumbering toward her. She held out a hand, offering a soft word of comfort as the horse reared, stomping and prancing in a panicked state. His body glistened with sweat, she knew not how many days the horse had galloped. Papa had been gone for at least a week, the thought of something causing this must panic in their trusted steed made her worried. "Felipe?" She asked the horse when she calmed him down, taking his reigns as the horse breathed, nostrils flared and eyes wide. No amount of her voice or touch stilled him, he pawed at the ground, snorting. "Where is Papa?" She asked him, and he met her eye with fright.

She tried walking him to the stables, but he resisted, pulling in the direction he had come from. She knew not what he had to tell her, but she would not risk ignoring the sign. Pulling herself into the saddle, the horse turned before she was fully seated, bolting for the forest. She gasped and held on to his mane, since she would have slid off if she had not.

Belle's eyes tried to adjust to the forest, but Felipe ran so quickly she hardly had time to understand the changes in the forest. There had been light within the trees once, not now. Hours turned to days and she lay on the horse's back as he walked through the forest now, sometimes he grazed or drank from a small stream while his passenger tried to keep her eyes open. "Where are you taking me Felipe?"

The horse snorted, walking forward through the darkness. The forest was dense now, so much dead growth it clung to them, wrapping its grasp around them, threatening to drag them into death's snare. Belle kept low, looking about as they walked along. She did not know day from night, the hours passed with haste and dreadful silence. This forest made no noise, sometime she thought a lonely owl called, sending chills down her spine. Red eyes watched her from the dark, and she swallowed in her weakened state, disorientated and thirsty. A wolf howled, and it was the first sound in days to reach her ears, and she gasped, clutching Felipe's mane as she did so, the horse trotting ahead.

They had stopped now, and Belle struggled to look up as her eyes saw nothing but shade of grey and black. She narrowed her eyes as she looked up, a large gate loomed but beyond; something far worse stood. A castle, dark against a sky that now cracked and shattered around them as lightening lit up the sky, hurting her eyes and revealing the fortress. She whimpered as the gate swung open, rain no pouring down. She knew not how long she had been outside, nor how long the rain had landed on her skin – but the horse walked forward, snorting with uneasiness. The place creaked and moaned, like it had not been disturbed in some time.

Belle sat up, raining pattering on her eyes as she thought she saw a figure in a window, but is was gone in a blink. She shook her head, grasping Felipe's mane as she swung herself down, wobbling on her feet. She was dizzy and hungry, but she was closer to finding her father, something inside her spoke. She walked closer to the door, a great iron thing from an ancient age. She did not remember a castle even being in this area. A gust of wind seemed to surge out of now where, and she felt the hood of her cloak blow as she reached for the door. It opened, a loud creaking noise accompanying the movement. Belle shuddered as she looked as the darkness within, not a light seemed to exist within, and she summoned her courage as she stepped inside.