#schneewittchxn

[Original]

There was something about castles that he found strange. They weren’t natural formations of stone, but rather a forced reshaping of the natural. Pieces of the Earth exhumed for a new purpose. He still didn’t know how he felt about them, in all honesty.

“They are unwelcome places. Open wounds of stone, soaked to the heartstone in blood.“

Placing a hand on the stone wall as well, he dimly recalled a time when he could commune with the Earth and it’s stone. Had he met these stones before? Did the building blocks of the castle, in their way, know him? He would never know.

The Beast’s footsteps echoed as he walked on the marble floors of the chateau. The portraits of his ancestors stared down at him. They accused, judged, and mocked him from their golden frames. The Most Christian Kings of France probably would have laughed at the thought that one of their descendants would end up looking like the lynx whose fur was so prized. With his pointy ears and clawed hands and feet, The Beast was a mockery of everything a prince should be. Even though he knew Du Bellay by and had the collected essays of Montaigne sitting in his library, none of that meant anything anymore. He was just an animal now.

As he walked, he watched as the monkeys scurried around him in different directions. One was bringing out the tea services, while another was carrying something to the dining room. Delicious no doubt, but he wouldn’t be able to touch it. He had to hunt for his food instead. Mice, rats, deer, and wolves made up his diet now. When he stared at his bloodied claws, he wept with shame at what he had become.

He regretted not letting that woman in when she begged him to. Even now, he could see her toothless smile and her hideous stringy hair that hung around her bald scalp. Thunder and lightning had echoed from the skies as she stood at his gate. She had begged him to let her inside and yet he had refused. “Be cursed then,” the crone had said as she turned into a fairy. “Until someone loves for who you are and not what you are, you will assume the form of a beast.”

And so he had. The weeks and months and years had passed monotonously since then. The servants had been turned into monkeys, the horses were all eaten now, and the hounds had run away. At the court of Louis Bien Amie, they probably whispered about Prince de Conti and speculated about whether he was dead. The Most Christian King certainly didn’t care and neither did Versailles. The Beast was as good as dead.

X

         she didn’t often interact with mortals. at least, not when they were still alive. she had plenty of interaction with them once they’d crossed into the underworld. but she was in the land of the living now, and happy to be there. though she did love being home, the underworld didn’t have quite as many flowers. and she did always find herself drawn to gardens, adding to them occasionally. this time, she coaxed a bundle of purple-tipped white dahlia’s from the earth. 

           ‘ i’m sorry, this spot just seemed to be missing something. ‘

           ‘ when you said you were going to hire me for transportation, this wasn’t what i had in mind. ‘ instead of an actual package, he was just looking at a girl. a girl who looked like she was on the run, and that was something he knew a little about. ‘ where are you tryin to go? ‘ 

       Fae had rather odd relations with human royalty. Some of them intermingled with kings and queens, shocking the silly little humans of the court with their glorious beauty and intense magic. Some of them were considered nothing more than tricksters, only worth caring about when one was trying to get the better of them or be rid of the sneaky fair folk. They were called hobgoblins, leprechauns, sprites, pixies, usually red-haired and green-eyed with upturned noses-- in Ninny’s case, a lutine. For better or for worse, her firey locks and emerald pupils were invisible, rendering her rather useless. 

      And so Ninny really didn’t know how to greet any passing loyalty. Whoever this was (for she had to be royalty, with that expensive dress!) she might be horrified at Ninny’s lack of a face and picture her an evil witch. Although she’d been taught by her aunt, a sophisticated dame blanche fairy with dance-based magic, to always curtsy should fair folk or human royalty pass her by, Ninny’s trembling knees couldn’t bring herself to do it.