"The Prince and The Rose": >>Part 1<< >>Part 2<< >>Part 3<<
Part 4
In the shadows of what little remained of the upstairs parlor, the monster crouched.
Guilt averted his gaze from the gently-glowing rose under the glass jar. The wailing sobs of his unfortunate guest only made things worse.
How could he have gotten the resolution to all of his troubles so very wrong?
The fault, of course, lay with the young lady. Raul had noticed that when she first arrived: from the disdainful sneers she gave her surroundings as she picked her way through the castle, to the loud and self-important way she talked to herself incessantly.
A growl built in his beastly throat as he recalled watching her discover the room of dresses--carefully curated from all across the land, to impress any ladies who begged to visit him, back when he was still the dashing, enigmatic Prince Raul, The Eligible Bachelor. He stared down at his hairy, misshapen claws. Clearly her outburst had been correct. What civilized human would deign to interact with him now? Certainly not this girl, the first person near his own age that he had seen since his transformation.
No, she would never see him as anything but a terrible monster to scream and throw things at. No matter how many meals he prepared, fires he lit, rooms he cleared and opened in an effort to make her feel more comfortable--it was all in vain. She would always believe that she was his prisoner, that every day in this castle was her punishment, a torment for her to suffer until it ended.
Well then! Raul thought to himself as his lip curled in a snarl, if torment is all she expects, then why should I put any effort to the contrary? He had carved out for himself a solitary existence, never worrying about human comforts and small luxuries a feral beast did not deserve nor understand. He wouldn't concern himself with anything outside his own survival any longer. If that girl couldn't trust him to help her survive, then she deserved to be left wholly on her own.
As the sun set that evening, the castle stood dark and cold.
Raul crept down the hall and dropped over the railing and into the foyer. He paused at the sound of a terrified squeal and running footsteps: Mademoiselle Charmaine, forever avoiding the sight of him.
Raul crawled out to the courtyard. Not long after all the humans had run away screaming, the woodland creatures had begun to invade this space, almost as if reclaiming the territory they had lost when Raul's ancestors built this castle in the midst of a forest. That suited the beast just fine, as it provided him with a steady diet of rodents, rabbits, birds, foxes, and even the odd deer, long after the stores in the castle cellars had run out of food suitable for him.
He chomped noisily, relishing the cracking of bones and the slurp of wet flesh as he thought of the terrified damsel trapped in the castle above him.
Once he had his fill, Raul climbed the uneven rock wall to the balcony attached to his bedroom suite. He wondered, as he slipped into a fitful sleep upon a pile of distressed cushions spread on the floor, how much longer he would have to wait until the truly selfless heroine would arrive to free him from his own peculiar torment.
For three long days, the two occupants of the castle studiously avoided each other. Raul lapsed back into the habits he had formed during two years of solitude. The only difference was that every so often, he would glimpse a colorful train or a flash of jewelry, accompanied by a strangled yelp every time.
She would always be terrified of him. Raul couldn’t think of anything that would change that.
On the third day of stillness, dark, and cold, Raul heard something he had not heard yet.
Charmaine called him prince.
“Your highness?”
His heightened senses told him exactly where she was, and he made his way over to where she stood.
He saw her framed against the dying light of sunset. She crouched next to the table where stood the enchanted rose, swathed in a gilded robe. Her wide eyes darted around the deepening shadows, unable to see him but imagining that awful face at every turn.
“Oh Prince...” she whimpered, “Please—I am so cold, and hungry, and I cannot light the fire myself. Will you do it for me?”
Raul came out of the shadows. His eyes pierced the darkness and he could see her clearly. There was the scars from his claws down her arm and her face. The more he watched her, though, the more he discerned her clear eyes, her delicate chin—the way her hair caught even the merest sliver of light and gleamed.
Her body tensed and she gave a small gasp as her gaze rested squarely upon him. Immediately, she turned away, covering her face with her hand. In that movement, Raul could see the large scab tracing down her arm, and the red stripes upon her cheek. He turned away and busied himself with piling logs upon the hearth. The injuries brought back memories of her voice, screaming at him; her face red and flushed with anger and terror. She wasn't ugly, by any means--but her treatment of him belied all her good looks.
As he turned back to look at the rose upon its table, Raul reflected on the way he had relied so much on his own good looks. Was that the thing people remembered most about him... or did they, like he, retain memories of how he had treated others--the snide comments and the rude, oblique way of speaking...
Charmaine gave a small cough, bringing the Beast Prince out of his reflections. She hadn't moved an inch. Raul crept past her, out of the room, and down the hallway. This time, instead of leaping over the balustrade, he took the dusty, creaking stairs down to the ground floor, where the main hall could be found. He couldn't tell if Charmaine followed him, but as far as he knew, she preferred it if he simply ignored and avoided her.
Raul stacked the wood upon the hearth and scratched his claws along the flint stone to make a spark to light the kindling. While the fire grew, he traveled down to the kitchen, making his way to the larder to see what remained of the stores. It might not be much, and it certainly wasn't decadent by any means, but at least it would be edible for her.
When he returned to the main hall with a tray laden with a bowl of soup heated over a flame, and some long-lived biscuits that had remained palatable after two years (albeit a bit dry and crumbling), he could see the glittering lump curled in the armchair before the fire.
His foot-claws clacked and scraped on the marble floor. Charmaine's head turned to confirm who approached, and when she saw him, she turned away again.
"Just leave the tray on the floor by the chair," she murmured from the depths of the robe. "I can't eat with a ravenous beast crouching so near me--it turns my stomach." He saw her pull her lower lip between her teeth after she said this last remark. She blinked a few times before finishing, "I hope you understand."
Raul did as she requested. He understood her discomfort. She had made her distaste for him abundantly clear. He withdrew across the room--but once outside the door, he lingered in the hallway.
He could still hear Charmaine, sobbing quietly to herself as she ate the lonely meal. Then she began speaking.
"What am I even doing here? This whole mess is completely not what I bargained for--not what I ever asked for or wanted in any way!" She sniffed noisily, and from the rustling of fabric Raul guessed she might have even wiped her nose on the gilded dressing gown. "I work so hard--so hard--at being the kind of person who gets what she wants, the kind of person that everyone wants to be... And where does that get me?" She paused to whimper a little. "Alone. In a giant castle. Surrounded by dirt and stench and old things and outdated clothes. With only a stupid, lumbering, slobbering beast for company!" She huffed again. "At least he could have imported something from this last season--but no-o-o-o! He's a beast, what does he know of fashion?"
Guilt averted his gaze from the gently-glowing rose under the glass jar. The wailing sobs of his unfortunate guest only made things worse.
How could he have gotten the resolution to all of his troubles so very wrong?
The fault, of course, lay with the young lady. Raul had noticed that when she first arrived: from the disdainful sneers she gave her surroundings as she picked her way through the castle, to the loud and self-important way she talked to herself incessantly.
A growl built in his beastly throat as he recalled watching her discover the room of dresses--carefully curated from all across the land, to impress any ladies who begged to visit him, back when he was still the dashing, enigmatic Prince Raul, The Eligible Bachelor. He stared down at his hairy, misshapen claws. Clearly her outburst had been correct. What civilized human would deign to interact with him now? Certainly not this girl, the first person near his own age that he had seen since his transformation.
No, she would never see him as anything but a terrible monster to scream and throw things at. No matter how many meals he prepared, fires he lit, rooms he cleared and opened in an effort to make her feel more comfortable--it was all in vain. She would always believe that she was his prisoner, that every day in this castle was her punishment, a torment for her to suffer until it ended.
Well then! Raul thought to himself as his lip curled in a snarl, if torment is all she expects, then why should I put any effort to the contrary? He had carved out for himself a solitary existence, never worrying about human comforts and small luxuries a feral beast did not deserve nor understand. He wouldn't concern himself with anything outside his own survival any longer. If that girl couldn't trust him to help her survive, then she deserved to be left wholly on her own.
As the sun set that evening, the castle stood dark and cold.
Raul crept down the hall and dropped over the railing and into the foyer. He paused at the sound of a terrified squeal and running footsteps: Mademoiselle Charmaine, forever avoiding the sight of him.
Raul crawled out to the courtyard. Not long after all the humans had run away screaming, the woodland creatures had begun to invade this space, almost as if reclaiming the territory they had lost when Raul's ancestors built this castle in the midst of a forest. That suited the beast just fine, as it provided him with a steady diet of rodents, rabbits, birds, foxes, and even the odd deer, long after the stores in the castle cellars had run out of food suitable for him.
He chomped noisily, relishing the cracking of bones and the slurp of wet flesh as he thought of the terrified damsel trapped in the castle above him.
Once he had his fill, Raul climbed the uneven rock wall to the balcony attached to his bedroom suite. He wondered, as he slipped into a fitful sleep upon a pile of distressed cushions spread on the floor, how much longer he would have to wait until the truly selfless heroine would arrive to free him from his own peculiar torment.
For three long days, the two occupants of the castle studiously avoided each other. Raul lapsed back into the habits he had formed during two years of solitude. The only difference was that every so often, he would glimpse a colorful train or a flash of jewelry, accompanied by a strangled yelp every time.
She would always be terrified of him. Raul couldn’t think of anything that would change that.
On the third day of stillness, dark, and cold, Raul heard something he had not heard yet.
Charmaine called him prince.
“Your highness?”
His heightened senses told him exactly where she was, and he made his way over to where she stood.
He saw her framed against the dying light of sunset. She crouched next to the table where stood the enchanted rose, swathed in a gilded robe. Her wide eyes darted around the deepening shadows, unable to see him but imagining that awful face at every turn.
“Oh Prince...” she whimpered, “Please—I am so cold, and hungry, and I cannot light the fire myself. Will you do it for me?”
Raul came out of the shadows. His eyes pierced the darkness and he could see her clearly. There was the scars from his claws down her arm and her face. The more he watched her, though, the more he discerned her clear eyes, her delicate chin—the way her hair caught even the merest sliver of light and gleamed.
Her body tensed and she gave a small gasp as her gaze rested squarely upon him. Immediately, she turned away, covering her face with her hand. In that movement, Raul could see the large scab tracing down her arm, and the red stripes upon her cheek. He turned away and busied himself with piling logs upon the hearth. The injuries brought back memories of her voice, screaming at him; her face red and flushed with anger and terror. She wasn't ugly, by any means--but her treatment of him belied all her good looks.
As he turned back to look at the rose upon its table, Raul reflected on the way he had relied so much on his own good looks. Was that the thing people remembered most about him... or did they, like he, retain memories of how he had treated others--the snide comments and the rude, oblique way of speaking...
Charmaine gave a small cough, bringing the Beast Prince out of his reflections. She hadn't moved an inch. Raul crept past her, out of the room, and down the hallway. This time, instead of leaping over the balustrade, he took the dusty, creaking stairs down to the ground floor, where the main hall could be found. He couldn't tell if Charmaine followed him, but as far as he knew, she preferred it if he simply ignored and avoided her.
Raul stacked the wood upon the hearth and scratched his claws along the flint stone to make a spark to light the kindling. While the fire grew, he traveled down to the kitchen, making his way to the larder to see what remained of the stores. It might not be much, and it certainly wasn't decadent by any means, but at least it would be edible for her.
When he returned to the main hall with a tray laden with a bowl of soup heated over a flame, and some long-lived biscuits that had remained palatable after two years (albeit a bit dry and crumbling), he could see the glittering lump curled in the armchair before the fire.
His foot-claws clacked and scraped on the marble floor. Charmaine's head turned to confirm who approached, and when she saw him, she turned away again.
"Just leave the tray on the floor by the chair," she murmured from the depths of the robe. "I can't eat with a ravenous beast crouching so near me--it turns my stomach." He saw her pull her lower lip between her teeth after she said this last remark. She blinked a few times before finishing, "I hope you understand."
Raul did as she requested. He understood her discomfort. She had made her distaste for him abundantly clear. He withdrew across the room--but once outside the door, he lingered in the hallway.
He could still hear Charmaine, sobbing quietly to herself as she ate the lonely meal. Then she began speaking.
"What am I even doing here? This whole mess is completely not what I bargained for--not what I ever asked for or wanted in any way!" She sniffed noisily, and from the rustling of fabric Raul guessed she might have even wiped her nose on the gilded dressing gown. "I work so hard--so hard--at being the kind of person who gets what she wants, the kind of person that everyone wants to be... And where does that get me?" She paused to whimper a little. "Alone. In a giant castle. Surrounded by dirt and stench and old things and outdated clothes. With only a stupid, lumbering, slobbering beast for company!" She huffed again. "At least he could have imported something from this last season--but no-o-o-o! He's a beast, what does he know of fashion?"
Raul felt her words rankle him somewhere in the roots of his hackles--but he restrained himself. She needed to at least tolerate him enough to break the curse at some point. If he reacted now, it would only serve to increase her reasons for hating and avoiding him--and he'd be trapped as a beast for the foreseeable future. So he quelled his rising anger and continued to listen.
"I miss my new clothes!" Charmaine wailed. "I miss going to parties... I miss the jewels and the finery! I miss the food... the music... the dancing!" He could hear her shoes tapping lightly on the floor as she paced around. A brief glance proved that Charmaine was now waltzing by herself around the room, still spouting things she "missed" after only a few days in Prince Raul's castle.
"I miss the desserts at Lady Rosalind's soirees! Dear Madeline Larkin could always serve up the most amazing dishes! I miss the taste of roast ham, and sugared fruits... Can I even manage to remember the dance to The Merry Trace of Summer anymore?" She stopped and cast herself upon a nearby lounge, coughing at the cloud of dust sent up by the cushions. As she settled, she gave a small moan. "I miss my friends! Well," Charmaine sniffed again, and sat up a little. "Not everyone I'd socialize with--I wouldn't call them friends exactly... But Felice! Dear Felice!" A touch of real sadness crept into her voice, and Raul leaned in closer to hear her words. "I miss the twinkle of her blue eyes! I miss her delicate features! I miss her curly mahogany hair, the blue floral dresses with the lacy bodice that she would always wear... Her strong, loud voice and the way she'd wave her hands when she spoke... Out of anybody, she knew me best! What I wouldn't give to see her again, to tell her that she was right about everything! Staying here wouldn't be half so dull if she was here with me!"
"I miss my new clothes!" Charmaine wailed. "I miss going to parties... I miss the jewels and the finery! I miss the food... the music... the dancing!" He could hear her shoes tapping lightly on the floor as she paced around. A brief glance proved that Charmaine was now waltzing by herself around the room, still spouting things she "missed" after only a few days in Prince Raul's castle.
"I miss the desserts at Lady Rosalind's soirees! Dear Madeline Larkin could always serve up the most amazing dishes! I miss the taste of roast ham, and sugared fruits... Can I even manage to remember the dance to The Merry Trace of Summer anymore?" She stopped and cast herself upon a nearby lounge, coughing at the cloud of dust sent up by the cushions. As she settled, she gave a small moan. "I miss my friends! Well," Charmaine sniffed again, and sat up a little. "Not everyone I'd socialize with--I wouldn't call them friends exactly... But Felice! Dear Felice!" A touch of real sadness crept into her voice, and Raul leaned in closer to hear her words. "I miss the twinkle of her blue eyes! I miss her delicate features! I miss her curly mahogany hair, the blue floral dresses with the lacy bodice that she would always wear... Her strong, loud voice and the way she'd wave her hands when she spoke... Out of anybody, she knew me best! What I wouldn't give to see her again, to tell her that she was right about everything! Staying here wouldn't be half so dull if she was here with me!"
Raul listened with growing amusement at the free confessions of this self-absorbed girl.
The moment of hope and fondness passed, and the old bitterness returned as Charmaine continued. "If only Father wasn't so rude, and stupid, and inconsiderate--this is all his fault! Who does he think he is, trapping his own daughter in this absolute pit of a ruin, with a beast who doesn't even care about causing another person pain!" She let out a petulant sigh. "I was only looking at the rose--it wasn't as if I was going to steal it or break it or anything! He's just selfish and rude and stupid! Oh, woe is me! If anyone deserves pity, I dare say I do! I suppose," she huffed, "I know how he feels now--so alone, left behind by everyone we thought were friends, and all the money and prestige in the world couldn't save us from our cruel fate!"
She commenced crying and feeling sorry for herself all over again, and Raul moved away to his own side of the house. The evening certainly hadn't turned out anything like he expected--and the long-awaited end to his own torment seemed further away than ever before.
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