The Prince dreaded the idea of anyone seeing him as he was. After the ruin of Tulip’s family, his malformation progressed beyond his wildest fears.
He looked like a monster.
Like a beast.
Clearly there was nothing he could do to break the curse; the sisters had lied. They had never intended for him to be able to break the curse; all his efforts with Tulip were in vain.
Lumiere was still standing there, waiting for his answer. The Prince was only reminded of that when he heard the man clear his throat.
“Yes, man, I heard you! I will go outside but not until nightfall! And I don’t want anyone lurking in the halls to catch sight of me, do you understand? I don’t want to see a single soul! If someone is afoot, they are to avert their gaze from me!”
Lumiere nodded in understanding.
“Shall I arrange dinner in the main dining hall, sir? It’s been some time since we’ve had the opportunity to serve you at tableside.”
The Prince felt sickened at the thought.
“We shall see! Now go! I want to be alone.”
Lumiere left the room, stopping in the hall to speak to someone. The Prince got himself out of bed for the first time in weeks. His body ached and was stiff—so stiff he found it surprisingly hard to make his way to the door. But the voice sounded like Cogsworth’s, and he desperately wanted to see him. When he opened the door, he expected to find the two men talking, but only found Lumiere.
“What is going on? I heard you speaking to someone!”
Lumiere turned around in fright.
“Only to myself, while I was winding this clock, sir. I’m sorry to disturb you!”
The Prince was losing his temper again, spiraling into a dangerous rage.
“Balderdash! I heard Cogsworth’s voice!”
Lumiere looked sad at the mention of his name, but the Prince persisted. “You mean to tell me you weren’t speaking to him? You haven’t seen him at all?”
Lumiere, still holding his brass candlestick, calmly replied, “I can say with all honesty, sir, it has been some time since I’ve seen dear Cogsworth in the flesh.”
Twilight was his favorite time, the in between time when everything looked perfect and anything was possible, especially in spring. The darkening sky was lilac, making the moon all the more striking.
The Prince did feel better being outdoors, and Lumiere had made good on his promise. The Prince hadn’t seen a single person while making his way out of the castle. Though he couldn’t help feeling fearful someone could come upon him at any time. He decided a walk in the woods would be best. Once there, he felt more at ease. It was darker now, and the canopy of trees overhead obscured the light almost entirely except for little patches revealing a star filled blanket of night. He had always seen well in the dark, but since he’d been in seclusion for so long, his eyes were even keener in darkness than before. He did feel quite beastly, actually, like a creature prowling in the forest.
Prowling.
Yes, that was exactly what he was doing, and he liked it. He almost felt more at home here than he did in his chamber. At times he felt like he couldn’t breathe in his room, just sitting there, waiting for those sisters to swoop upon him like a pack of Gorgons. However, in the forest, everything felt right, somehow perfect, like home. Though he wasn’t sure if that, too, was the lure of the witches. If they had somehow enchanted the forest to draw him in, make him feel more natural there, trap him in surroundings that would increase his beastliness. He suddenly wanted to flee home, to shut himself away, but something caught his ear.
He quickly hid behind a very large moss covered tree stump to see what was coming. It was Gaston with his hunting rifle, but before the Prince could react, shots rained upon him, penetrating the tree trunk, splintering the wood and sending his heart into a manic rhythm he thought would kill him.
Something other than fear was growing inside him, something terrible and dark that obscured his fondness for, and even made him forget, his friend. Indeed, for a moment, this beast couldn’t recall Gaston. There was some recollection, but nothing he could put his finger on. Then he remembered.
He felt different, like he was slipping into a deep, dark ocean; he felt himself drowning in it, losing himself completely while something else took over, something that felt alien yet familiar and comfortable at the same time.
Everything in his periphery narrowed, and the only thing he could focus on was Gaston. Nothing else existed; nothing else mattered but the sound of blood rushing to Gaston’s beating heart. The sound enveloped him, matching his own heartbeat. He wanted Gaston’s blood. He wasn’t even aware that he rushed forward, knocking Gaston over and pinning him to the ground.
His own power frightened him; it was so easy to take a man down, to hold him there, rendering him defenseless. He wanted nothing more than to taste his warm salty blood. But then he looked into Gaston’s eyes and saw fear. And he again recognized his friend.
Gaston was frightened. The Prince had not seen him look fearful since they were young boys.
He had been about to take the life of his best friend. A man who had saved his own when they were boys. He snatched Gaston’s gun from his shaking hands and flung it far into the woods. He ran as fast as he could, leaving Gaston confused and alone and wondering what sort of foul beast had attacked him. He could only hope Gaston didn’t know it was his old friend the Prince.
The Prince didn’t leave his rooms after that night in the woods. He heard the commotion downstairs when Gaston burst into the castle, seeking help with his wounds. The Prince wanted to help his friend but knew Lumiere had it well in hand. The doctor was called, Gaston’s wounds were attended to, and excuses were made for the Prince’s absence.
“How did you explain the state of the castle?” the Prince asked Lumiere later, wondering how things must have looked to Gaston.
But it might not have mattered to Gaston—who, like the Prince, appeared to be losing recollection of the Prince’s former life. In fact, even the court was losing any awareness of Gaston, the Prince, and, in some cases, their own lives before the cursed transformation.
“A man came to the castle. A stranger, but so familiar,” Lumiere had said, referring to Gaston. “He had been attacked in the forest nearby while hunting. And he apologized for intruding on a royal court, but needed help. He was mortally wounded.”
“This man,” the Prince said, “had he any idea what attacked him in the forest?”
“A beast, sir, that is what he said, some sort of animal. But like none he’d ever seen before.”
Animal.
Beast.
Weren’t those the words the witches used? The exact words? Those women were probably dancing with joy, chanting, and clicking the awful heels of their stupid little boots.
“Sir,” Lumiere croaked, “might I suggest saying you prefer the castle to be left unoccupied and kept for you by the groundskeeper?”
“Have we a groundskeeper?” asked the Prince, once again struggling for recollection.
“Yes, sir. Not in the traditional sense, but yes. We have everything. Everyone is here, sir, you just don’t see them. Your every wish will still be attended to.”
He looked lost in thought and confusion for a moment while the Prince waited for him to continue.
“And I don’t know, sir, how long you will have me as companion. I don’t know what will become of me when the curse takes its effects. But I will still be here like the rest, I’m sure of that. We will all do our best to make ourselves known to you when we can. To let you know you’re not alone.”
The Prince didn’t know what to say.
“We just hope you’re able to break the curse.”
Something snapped in his mind; his eyes were wild and he verged on the edge of frenzy. Break the curse! He hopes I’m able to break the curse!
“
As if there was a moment that went by that I thought of anything else but breaking this accursed spell! Get out of here before I strike you!”
Lumiere backed away with every spiteful word.
“I’m sorry, sir! I didn’t…”
“Get out now!” And that was the last the Prince, now the Beast, saw of Lumiere.
At the top of a grassy hill was a dark green gingerbread style mansion trimmed with gold and with black shutters. Its roof stretched skyward, its shape resembling a tall witch’s cap. Nestled within the house were the odd sisters, having their morning tea. Martha was bringing in a tray of hot blueberry scones when she heard Lucinda squeal with delight.
“She’s here! She’s here!”
All the sisters ran to the window, tripping over themselves to see who was there. She walked up the dirt path. Her beautiful golden eyes, lined in black, shined with little specks of green in the morning light as she made her way to the front door. Martha was there to greet her.
“Pflanze, hello! Ruby, quick, get her a saucer of milk!”
Pflanze walked in calmly among the frenzied squeals of excitement that surrounded her. She took her customary seat at the kitchen table, where her saucer of milk was already waiting for her.
Lucinda spoke first. “We’ve seen everything, Pflanze.” She was shaking with delight, she was so excited!
“Yes, everything! We’ve seen it all!” said Ruby. “You’ve done well, our beloved!” They surrounded her, chattering away like little birds while she drank her milk. The heels of their boots where making a clicking sound on the wood floor as they sang Pflanze’s praises.
Circe came into the room bleary eyed to see why her sisters were in such a blissful tizzy at that early hour.
“Ah, I see, Pflanze has finally come home!” She stroked Pflanze on the head as she finished up her milk.
“And where did you get off to, pretty girl?”
Circe’s older sisters looked at each other fearfully, which only succeeded in making them look guilty. It was rare Circe let them get away with their small deceptions. They found it very hard to keep secrets from their little sister. They were often up to some sort of skullduggery, anyway, so it wasn’t a stretch when she’d ask what they’d been doing. It was almost as if they liked being caught by her.
“Or perhaps I should be asking you ladies what you’ve been doing?”
Lucinda put on the most innocent face she could conjure, but it didn’t fool Circe. “Oh, don’t try pulling that with me, Lucinda! I know when you’ve been up to your trickery. Now out with it!”
Pflanze looked up at the witches, all four of them, blinked slowly in thanks for the milk, adjusted her paws, and jumped down from the table. She was above such conversations. She curled up in front of the fireplace while the sisters had it out.
“So?” Circe had her hand on her hip, waiting for her older sisters to answer.
“Pflanze has been with the Prince, keeping an eye on him for us, that’s all.”
Circe rolled her eyes.
“I told you not to meddle with him. I told you to leave him alone!”
Martha almost knocked over the teapot in protest. “We haven’t meddled, I promise! We’ve just been looking in on him.”
Circe couldn’t help asking, “And what did you see?” but she knew the moment she asked it was a mistake. The words rained down on her like a storm; she got caught in the flurry of their fragmented stories that they were all too pleased to share.
“Oh, we’ve seen everything!” “Nasty, terrible things!” “Worse than we imagined!” “Murder!” “Lies!” “He drove a girl to suicide!” “She jumped off the cliffs!” “Ugly, nasty, horrible beast!” “Broken hearts, romancing tarts!” “Ah, are we rhyming now? Lovely!”
Circe put an end to it before the rhyming continued. “No, no you’re not! No rhyming!”
Much like everyone else, Circe found it hard to follow her sisters when they got excited. You’d think after almost twenty years of living with them it would get easier, but as the years passed, their mania just made Circe’s head spin more.
“Sisters, please, just one of you speak, and please tell it slowly and in a straight line.”
The three witches were stone silent.
“I know you are capable of speaking normally, I’ve heard you do it! Please.”
Ruby spoke. “He’s turned into the Beast, as we thought he would. He almost killed Gaston while stalking in the forest.”
Circe looked disappointed. “But he didn’t kill him, so there’s still hope?”
Lucinda’s already pinched lips puckered even smaller. You could always tell how angry she was by how small her lips became.
“You still love him, don’t you?”
Circe walked away from her sisters and sat on the chair next to the fireplace to be near Pflanze.
“I wish you could talk, dear Pflanze. I wish you could tell me what happened so I wouldn’t have to suffer these lunatic sisters of mine!”
Martha chucked her teacup at the wall in frustration.
“How dare you?”
Ruby had tears flowing from her eyes. “I never thought to hear such words from you, little sister, not after everything we’ve done for you!”
Circe put an end to the theatrics at once. “Just stop! All of you! Stop! I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it, it’s just sometimes you do drive me to distraction! Of course I’m not in love with him, I had just hoped he would have learned his lesson. Changed his ways and made a better life for himself!”
Lucinda smiled at her little sister. “Of course, dear, you always cared about people, we know. Sometimes we forget that we are not alike. We care only for you. We love you for your compassion, we just do not share it.”
Circe didn’t understand her sisters. They lived in a world logical only to them, with their own twisted moral code. Often what they said made sense to her intellectually; other times their words simply confused her. This made her thankful for her capacity for compassion. Without it, she felt, she would be just like her older sisters.
“It’s hard to feel sorry for those willing to fling themselves into disaster. They are their own undoing, my dear. They bring it upon themselves. They don’t merit your pity.”
Circe sighed, because she knew there was logic in her sister’s argument; there was just no heart. They sat to tea, chatting about everything the Prince had done since she had last seen him, this time more calmly.
“He thought he could break the curse with poor Tulip, and she really did love him, adored him! But he blamed her when their kiss did not break the curse! Of course he didn’t love her. Not really. Not true love. She loved him, true! But the curse dictates both given and received! He thought his selfish version of love would fool us, and he broke her heart in the process!”
Circe felt horrible for what had happened to Princess Tulip, and resigned herself to making things right for her and her family. Lucinda saw in Circe’s face that she felt guilty.
“The Prince did that to her, Circe, not you!”
Circe sighed and said, “I know, but he destroyed her and her family trying to break the curse! My curse!”
Martha smiled at her little sister. “The old queen blighted the land and left a trail of disaster and death in her wake. Should we blame ourselves?”
Ruby laughed. “Oh, how she would have hated to be called the old queen! But that is what she has become so many years after her death: she’s become the old queen of legend and myth! But we know the truth! We know she was real! The queen who ruined herself over grief and vanity.”
Lucinda joined in the laughter. “Oh, she would have hated that name indeed! She would fling curses, and threaten to kill anyone who referred to her as such! But she’s dead now! Dead, dead, dead! Fallen off the rocky cliffs!”
Circe remembered Tulip.
“So, it was s
he—Tulip—who was driven to suicide? Who threw herself off the cliffs?” Circe asked.
“Oh, I think she did for the loss of her daughter and of herself. She drowned in her own misery and regret in the end. I almost felt sorry for her.”
Circe wondered how many stories like this she hadn’t heard from her sisters. It was clear they were not speaking of Tulip, but some queen who had thrown herself from a cliff.
“No, I meant Tulip. Your words led me to believe she’d thrown herself off the cliffs of her father’s shores.”
Lucinda answered, “She did, my dear, but was saved by our friend Ursula.”
Circe glared at her sisters. “And what did the sea witch demand in return?”
Ruby looked hurt. “You think so little of the company we keep?”
Lucinda added, “And how would we know what Ursula took from her? We are not privy to the goings-on in every kingdom!”
Circe gave her sister a look as if she knew very well that was a lie, and her sister relented, as they often did with their Circe. She was their one weakness. “She took nothing from her she actually needed.”
Circe didn’t look convinced. “I want you to make it right with Ursula! You give her something in exchange for whatever she took from Tulip! And I am going to sort out the kingdom’s affairs!”
Lucinda looked deeply unhappy. “If you insist.”
Circe narrowed her eyes. “I do! And, Sisters, we’re to see that Tulip’s beauty is returned to her without delay!”
Ruby was surprised their little sister had guessed what the sea witch had swapped for Tulip’s life.
Circe smiled smugly. “Don’t look so surprised! Ursula’s beauty was ripped from her years ago, so it would stand to reason she would try to regain it by devious means! I think it’s terrible what happened to her, but it doesn’t excuse her actions!”
Lucinda spoke. “Doesn’t it? Someone has stolen her beauty and absconded with her true voice. Her losses are too many to count. So much was taken from her and then scattered across the vast ocean so she may never find it again—and for what? A trifle!”
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