Beauty and the Beast - a Sims Retelling

[RainBeau]

I think I see where this is going now.

[Figwit]

Thank you for your comments.  Ombradellarosa, I hope I can surprise you a little. 

'Fool?' I echoed.



He smiled at me then, bitterly. 'Men can be fools. Women too, it is said. But he was the biggest fool of all.'



He growled deep in his chest and the glass he held shattered into pieces. The wine, like a red stain ran down his sleeve and dripped to the floor. He seemed not to notice. Immediately an invisible lackey collected the fragments of glass and mopped at his clothes while another produced a new glass of wine.



'She died.' He went on after a while. 'But not without cursing him and all that served him.'



He sighed deeply, anger giving way to sorrow.

'It wasn't their fault, the servants. They did only as he bid.'



'The curse reverberated through the castle that night.'



'He heard it and knew his doom just as he knew when she spent her last breath in hatred.'






'I don't understand.'  I hadn't wanted to interrupt but the words came out before I could stop them.

'She cursed him? Was she a witch?'



He was lost in contemplation. He stared into his wine glass as if seeking the answer there.


'I do not know.' He sighed at last.

'Perhaps her bitterness drove her into the arms of darkness. 

It was a time of great uncertainty and madness.'

'The plague had caused much terror and distress. People could only watch, helpless and defeated, as their loved ones sickened and perished. No-one knew why some were spared and others taken, but all greeted each day as if it was their last - as it very well could be.'



'There were many,' he continued, 'Who turned to the black arts for protection and solace. She would not have sought far to find a teacher.'



'Perhaps also,' He mused, 'Her fury at the lordling's callousness gave her the strength to invoke powers that are better left lie.'



'No human, witch or no, can utter such potent words of spite without also condemning their own immortal soul for eternity.'




'And for that I grieve.'

[Swirl-Girl]

There's no way to type the noise I just uttered. Kind of a mix between an awed ooh, and a sad aww.

[Figwit]

Thank you.  I am thrilled to get such a reaction from my words. 

'I miss my family.' 

Days had gone by and he had said no more of Rose.  My promptings to continue had met with moody silence or detours onto lighter subjects.   There was a tension, a waiting and everywhere the sickly sweet perfume of roses.  I could no longer escape into the castle to be rid of it.  It wafted through the thick oak door of my bedroom, surprised me as I rounded a dark corridor, pervaded the pages of the books I read. 

I was restless, uneasy.  I longed for the mundane pleasures I once enjoyed at home.

I stood now at the window staring out into the darkness.  Rain pattered gently on the glass. Behind me, the fire crackled in the hearth.


On a night such as this, my family would be gathered in the kitchen, huddling around the stove for warmth. Brigitte would be stoking the fire and fretting because the wood was damp and there was more smoke than flame. I would offer to run out to the woodpile to see if I could find some drier logs but that would not make her happy either.

‘And then you will get wet and chilled.’  She would snap, ‘And I will have to take care of you if you fall ill. We do not have the money for potions either so pray, do not cause me more vexation than is necessary.’

Blanche would be concentrating on the sewing in her hands, perhaps squinting at the tiny stitches in the dim light.  Her thoughts would be far away and her lips curved into a small, secret smile as she dreamt of marriage and escape to a better life.   Had she yet convinced the vintner’s son to make her his bride? 

Ah my sisters,  do you think of me at all?  Have you yet forgiven me for the burden of beauty that I never wanted or valued? 

And my father.  He would be planning his next trip to market.  Perhaps he had a map spread in front of him on the heavy table and was tracing the route he would take, gently smoothing the creases from the paper.  His brow would knit as he worried over which goods to take to make enough money to feed and clothe his small family and still have enough to spare to surprise his daughters with small gifts on his return.  He loved to make them smile.  Always the shiniest, the most unusual, the one that overshadowed the other gifts, he would reserve to delight me, his Belle. 


 
Oh papa. No pearls or gold or precious jewels could ever compare to those simple trinkets chosen with your love.  Did did you not see, however, that such favour made my sisters frown?


My breath had fogged the glass but my view was already blurred as tears filled my eyes.

The Beast did not look up from his book.

'I would have let him go, you know, if he had returned instead of you.'



'My father could not know that.'



'He could not know that I would not kill you and eat you,' He grinned and the light caught an incisor and for a moment he looked like the beast he was. 'Or worse.'



I felt the blood rush to my face.

‘It was my choice to take his place.  I could be spared.  He could not.’

‘I am sure he argued strenuously for days to change your mind.’

‘He did.‘ I protested defensively. ‘He begged me to reconsider.’

‘And yet, here you are.' He closed his book with a snap.

‘If you were mine, I would never surrender you.' 

His words were light but the intensity in his eyes made me uncomfortable.



'Why me?' I spoke quickly to hide my embarrassment. 'You did not know me.'



'The rose chose you.'

[Louise56]

I feel so sorry for her, being so homesick. The last sentence is just WOW. Amazing writing!

[Swirl-Girl]

I'm breathless. I don't care about the original tale, just WOW!

[Figwit]

Thank you both.  I am thrilled that you like it. 

'I spoke of a child.  Rose’s daughter.' He said.

It was morning and the rain had eased.  The garden would be too damp for comfort so we were confined to the inside of the castle.

‘Ah yes. The child she claimed was the young lord’s - your’s.  But it seems, it was not.’ 

My expression must have given away my disbelief because he shrugged and explained.



'A child born outside marriage was an acceptable hazard in the lives of the nobility.  One could provide as much or as little as one chose and no one would question.'   

'I would have been happy to acknowledge this child for she was a pretty thing,' He turned to me but his eyes were unfocussed.

‘One look at this child and it was obvious she was no blood of mine.  My family breed only dark hair. This one had tresses as gold as the sun.'




As if on cue, a beam of sunlight snuck from behind the clouds and turned a patch of flooring to bright, golden light. He and I both stared at it for a moment.

‘Rose thought to deceive me,’ He snarled, ‘And so exposed herself as the woman she truly was.  He - I - knew then that she had another lover, perhaps many.  I turned my back on her then in disgust and did not see her again until she came to my castle in desperate need.’ 



'After the transformation,' He went on slowly. 'I locked myself away in this castle.  I hid from the world. My mother was the only one daring enough to visit me. She it was who procured the spider.'



'She arranged care for the child. She kept it from my father. He would have put it to death.'



'But' I interrupted 'Weren't you bitter? Rose had done this - ' I indicated his face as delicately as I could 'terrible thing to you.'



He growled deep in his chest. 'I hated her with every fibre of my being.'

His face was dark and he spat the words with venom.



'But the child was blameless.'

[RainBeau]

I admire a 'villain' who has a concept of mercy and the innocence of children.

[Figwit]

Yes, me too.

'There is much power here at the castle.'

The day was warm and dry and we walked slowly on the paths meandering through the garden.  Our destination was the small grove in the centre where grew the rose bush. 


'When I was young, I gave it no mind.'



'I had no patience for cobwebbed witcheries or musty tomes sprinkled with the spidery scratchings of some long dead sorcerer.  There were games and horses, love and good wine for the taking.’  A rueful smile played on his lips as his mind travelled backwards to happier times.



'The magic thrums through this place. I feel it in the walls, the floor, the very air we breathe.'



Unconsciously, I held my breath. 'I feel nothing.' I shrugged feeling small and silly.



'Ignoring the power of this place, I believe, was my undoing.'



'How else,' He went on 'Could a spell cast by a deranged peasant girl have such a profound effect?'

The question was rhetorical. I could have no answer and none was expected.



'Like calls to like,' He explained. 'I, the fool, had paid no heed to the protective wards and defences. The spell found here a ripe feasting ground and, bloated and strong, it consumed all.'

We had reached the centre of the garden and relaxed on the garden chairs.  A small breeze played with the dust and created tiny swirling eddies of fine dirt and small dry leaves. Colourful butterflies flitted from blossom to blossom.



'My family,' He continued, 'Were not kind.  Not as you would measure kindness my Beauty.  I come from a line of arrogant and proud despots who each had more than pinch of cruelty.'



'Is it not to be wondered that one or more of my long dead ancestors would also dabble in the dark arts.'


He paused for a while before reaching into a pocket and withdrawing a small object which he handed to me.  It resembled a framed portrait, the like of which the wealthier people displayed on their mantlepieces or hung on chains about their necks. 
The frame was delicately carved with strange symbols and it was warm to the touch.  Inside the frame, where the portrait should reside, was empty whiteness.


'Look into it.’ He urged. ‘What do you see?'



Trembling but curious I took it from his hands.  'Nothing.  I see nothing...'

I was about to hand it back, laughing uneasily at his jest, when the empty surface changed.  Clouds of mist swirled, slowly at first but then faster and with a purpose as the likeness of a face started to take form; faint at first but slowly resolving into detail before my eyes. 

[RainBeau]

Gasp! Is it the girl? So much suspense!

[Figwit]

'Blanche?' I felt tears spring into my eyes, I missed her so. Even as the words were out of my mouth I knew it wasn't her.

Alike, but different as well. The nose was the same and the hair, but the face before me had an expression of wisdom and maturity. Feverishly I thumbed through memories.  So many faces.  People I had known. And I knew this face.



He said nothing, just regarded me softly, patiently.



'My mother.' I said at last a catch in my throat. 'But how, why?'



I looked at him accusingly the tears clouding my vision. He played some mean games at times but this was cruel beyond measure. My mother was dead.



'Rose's descendent.' He answered. 'As are you.'



'You see,' He regarded me intently. 'I don't know how or why but I believe you are destined to be here. I have waited these long years while all who I knew died and turned to dust.'

'You, my Beauty, could very well be the salvation of the unhappy servants and their unhappy master and,' He turned to the rose bush. 'Her'.



The blood drained from my face and a deathly cold brought goose bumps to my arms.   Here at last was the answer I had craved, yet dreaded, ever since I first stepped foot across his threshold.  All these long months of playing the pampered fool and now, soft and mellow and fallen into complacency, I am to be the sacrifice to end his curse.

I gathered together the shreds of my courage and lifted my head high.  If my throat was to be cut then he would have a clear target. 

‘And how does a simple country girl like me destroy such a foul curse, my lord?’ 

‘Marry me, Belle.’  His words were so soft I barely heard.

'Marry you?’  My head reeled and I clutched at the back of the garden chair for support.  I had thought to die.  The proposal to marry was too crazy; too unexpected.  I could not process the thought.  The laughter which burst from my lips was harsh and bordered on the hysterical.  I was dimly aware of the pain in his eyes but I had no capacity to deal with that now.

‘No!’

[Swirl-Girl]

Oh no! Poor Beast, he'll be devastated.

[Figwit]

Yes, poor guy 

'I think you need to go home.'



'More games, my lord?' I arched a brow at him. I was in no mood for teasing.



He closed his book and placed it on the shelf.

'There will be, of course, conditions.'



'Of course.' I replied coldly, 'Why would I suppose otherwise.'



I had avoided him for days but I had finally emerged from my self-imposed imprisonment.


My room had been my sanctuary. I had no key but the mirrors would keep him out. I purposely angled them so that they faced the doorway.



I refused to come out for meals so he had them delivered on trays. I read my way through several books but I could tell little about them later. 



Every day he would knock softly and beg me to come out but I would ignore him. 



‘I wish to be no one’s salvation.  You must find another fool.’  I had spat.  ‘Free me.  You have kept me with you, a prisoner, against my wishes for long enough.'



'I have treated you well,' His voice was mild.

'I did not want this, these.' I threw the pearls to the floor and hot tears sprang to my eyes.  ‘You frightened me.’

‘You frightened yourself, Belle.  I would never hurt you.’  His voice was soft, gentle.

For one normally so hot-tempered he was dealing with my outrage with endless patience and just a touch of humour.


That, of course, infuriated me more.


'I care nothing' I yelled, 'For your curse or your stories.   Whatever Rose did, it has nothing to do with me.  May you and your stupid rose bush rot and decay.'



He sighed softly and his eyes were sad.

‘You are free for seven days, Belle. But then you must return.' 



Seven days was not much time.


'It is likely more than I can bear,' He said quietly.

[RainBeau]

This adds such richness and depth to the classic story! I am on the edge of my seat, which is fascinating since I know the story well.

[Figwit]

Aw thank you.  Such kind words.

I was home. How good smelt the air. A different combination of perfumes from the Beast's garden, I supposed, and no roses.



I paused outside the humble cottage, savouring the moment and committing it to memory. I sniffed back tears. They were tears of joy but I worried that my family might think me sad.



My sisters, perhaps hearing the carriage, ran out to meet me. So much joy. The tears I tried to hold at bay could be stayed no longer but we were all crying by then.



'We feared we would not see you again.' My father's eyes reflected his joy mingled with sorrow.



We stood silent, appraising each other for a long time.  

How good he looked - a little older perhaps, a little greyer and more lines around his eyes, but his face so loved, so precious to me. My heart felt as though it might break. I must drink in this moment, milk from it as much from it as I could take, because it would be so fleeting.