The Beast Within
Title: The Beast Within
Author: gehayi
Recipient: idiotalchemist
Fandoms: Feminist Fairy Tales - Barbara G. Walker, La Belle et La Bête| Beauty and the Beast, Fairy Tales and Related Fandoms
Characters: Beast, Ugly, Original Female Character
Pairings: Beast/Ugly
Word Count: 1,500
Rating: PG
Inspiration: The story springboards off of the last line of Walker's "Ugly and the Beast" in Feminist Fairy Tales.
Summary: A relationship based on looks, good or no, is a relationship that will not last long. The same goes for one that isn't based on love and respect.
Ugly and the Beast became known far and wide as a warm and beneficent couple. They loved each other truly, because they were free of the narcissism that often mars the relationships of beautiful people; and so they lived happily ever after.
At least, that was the lie that the Beast paid his servants to spread abroad, for, having been rejected by a beautiful woman, he needed people to believe that he had done much better for himself this time. Consequently, he was willing to distribute a great deal of gold, silver and jewels to any and all who would speak loudly of the warmth and generosity of himself and Ugly. When his steward and housekeeper told him that he was doing nothing but bribing flatterers, he ignored them and paid more people than ever, determined that all should praise his choice of bride.
However, it did not take long for the Beast to learn that Ugly was not a person of much substance. She seemed to think of nothing but their mutual ugliness and the monetary worth of all goods and actions. She never wondered at the magical marvels he conjured daily; she cared nothing for poetry, as it was impractical; and art was not something to be enjoyed, but an investment. When he asked her one day why she had come to dwell with him, he was shocked when she said that she had volunteered because doing so might increase her family's wealth, something she could not do through marriage--and after all, she had been little more than a maid-of-all-work in her father's house.
"You did not come for love of your father?"
"Beast," Ugly said, patting his hairy face, "why would I do that? He was in no danger, nor were my brothers; you said you wanted a female companion. And my sisters are all lovely and accomplished women who would grace the home of any merchant-prince. I was the spare, so I came. And it worked out, did it not?"
"In other words," replied the Beast slowly, his heart sinking, "your family gave me not the best it had but its leftovers. Because the leftovers could turn a profit."
Ugly nodded cheerfully. "I did not expect it to work out quite so well! Isn't it marvelous that we are so much alike?"
"Alike! How are we alike, save in ugliness?"
Ugly blinked at him, her small piggy eyes dull and uncomprehending. "What else is there?"
***
After that, the Beast began to spend less and less time with Ugly. He had wanted someone of lightning-swift curiosity and rare beauty of character--a woman who would see him not as an animal but as a human in the wrong sort of body. He had convinced himself that Ugly was that sort of person. Now he was beginning to see that she had wed him solely because he was rich and even uglier than herself.
As he realized this, he grew angrier and angrier, lying, deceiving her, and blaming many other people for his unfortunate marriage, until finally he could bear Ugly's presence no longer. He began hexing her, trying to cause a fatal accident. She could not kill herself without calling the legend he had bought and paid for into question, and his mansion was known to be well-guarded magically against burglars and assassins. So an accident it had to be.
Yet months passed, and no harm came to Ugly. In fact, after every accident, she discovered something valuable: a gold guilder, a watered sapphire, or a flower that was so rare and radiant that it was itself almost a form of currency. This seemed to please her immensely--but the Beast could not help but notice that she also seemed more reluctant to spend time with him these days as well. The Beast saw this and fumed. How dare she shrink from him!
Each day became more of a burden, for the Beast increasingly saw Ugly as the dull characterless lump that she was, and every day he saw more and more bewilderment, horror and revulsion in her eyes. At last it occurred to him that he and Ugly might well have been cursed at their very public wedding. And so he cast an enchantment that would reveal any magic surrounding him or Ugly that was not cast by himself.
Almost at once he saw that gleaming, glinting threads of silver--like moonlight and starlight mingled--were coiled about the chests and hands of both of them. Moreover, he could not discover the nature of the enchantment, and even the strongest spells he knew would not unbind the threads.
However, the Beast was an accomplished sorcerer, and while tracing a spell back to its caster could be difficult, it was far from impossible. It took him months rather than days, but at last he learned the name of the one who had cast that mysterious spell: Isabeau, the beauty who had abandoned him and who begun learning some measure of sorcery while still in this house.
The Beast could not learn where Isabeau now lived--only that it was much, much too far for him to travel. His illusions would not last the whole journey. So instead he painted a detailed image of Isabeau as she had been when last he saw her, mixing the paint with enchanted herbs and then infusing the herbal paint with his own breath so that the painting would be able to move and think and speak as if it were Isabeau herself.
The paint on the portrait was scarcely dry when the Beast demanded to know what manner of curse Isabeau had cast on him.
"I cast no curse," replied the painting--speaking, as was usual for such creations, as if she was the person painted. "And I have never wished you ill, even when you tricked me into lying with you." At this, the painted Isabeau blushed.
"I tell you, something is sorely wrong! I loved my wife once, and she me. Now we can scarcely bear to be together." And he told her every last detail of how they had once seen each other and how they detested each other now. He even admitted his attempts at…eliminating…Ugly; what difference did it make? Isabeau was only a painting, after all.
By the time he was done, the portrait of Isabeau looked nothing short of horrified. "But that was not what was supposed to happen!"
"What wasn't supposed to happen?"
Isabeau's image paced back and forth in her portrait. "Do you recall the day that I left? You said that if I had been able to see your heart, I would have loved you truly. I did not want to force anyone to love or be loved, but a spell that would let you and any other woman see each other's hearts...I wanted you both to be happy in whatever life you chose."
The Beast stared at the painting, realizing what Ugly had been seeing in him for so long. His contempt at her dullness. His rage that he had been saddled with the least valuable sister. Even--he winced at this--his attempted murders. Ugly knew his heart for certain.
We will have to part, he thought--and then realized what doing so would mean. He would have to admit publicly that he had lied, and that he loathed his wife as much as he had once claimed to love her. He would have to admit his extravagance and his lies, as well as the fact that he'd been a fool.
He could do this. He could confess that he'd been as proud and vain as any pretty-face princeling. But everyone would then know that he was no better than they. Worse, in the eyes of some--an animal pretending to be an enchanted man. A secret that Ugly could tell the entire world if they parted.
Or they could remain together, a couple believed to be blissfully happy while both of them knew it was a gigantic lie. A lie that he had bought and paid for.
Part and be shamed forever, losing all status in the eyes of humans...or lie and remain forever fettered to a woman whom he had only just begun to hate. Isabeau could not have cursed him better had she tried.
He did not even notice the still figure standing in the doorway of his magic workroom as she listened to his confession and to Isabeau's admission that she had cast a most ill-omened blessing.
He did not see Ugly slip away at last to her own chambers to weep and to decide what needed to happen now.
And he was still brooding in his workroom, glaring at the living portrait of a woman long since gone, when, her bags having been packed by quick, efficient servants and his carriage and coachman waiting to take Ugly wherever she wished to go, Ugly walked out of the manor's door for the last time.
Author: gehayi
Recipient: idiotalchemist
Fandoms: Feminist Fairy Tales - Barbara G. Walker, La Belle et La Bête| Beauty and the Beast, Fairy Tales and Related Fandoms
Characters: Beast, Ugly, Original Female Character
Pairings: Beast/Ugly
Word Count: 1,500
Rating: PG
Inspiration: The story springboards off of the last line of Walker's "Ugly and the Beast" in Feminist Fairy Tales.
Summary: A relationship based on looks, good or no, is a relationship that will not last long. The same goes for one that isn't based on love and respect.
Ugly and the Beast became known far and wide as a warm and beneficent couple. They loved each other truly, because they were free of the narcissism that often mars the relationships of beautiful people; and so they lived happily ever after.
At least, that was the lie that the Beast paid his servants to spread abroad, for, having been rejected by a beautiful woman, he needed people to believe that he had done much better for himself this time. Consequently, he was willing to distribute a great deal of gold, silver and jewels to any and all who would speak loudly of the warmth and generosity of himself and Ugly. When his steward and housekeeper told him that he was doing nothing but bribing flatterers, he ignored them and paid more people than ever, determined that all should praise his choice of bride.
However, it did not take long for the Beast to learn that Ugly was not a person of much substance. She seemed to think of nothing but their mutual ugliness and the monetary worth of all goods and actions. She never wondered at the magical marvels he conjured daily; she cared nothing for poetry, as it was impractical; and art was not something to be enjoyed, but an investment. When he asked her one day why she had come to dwell with him, he was shocked when she said that she had volunteered because doing so might increase her family's wealth, something she could not do through marriage--and after all, she had been little more than a maid-of-all-work in her father's house.
"You did not come for love of your father?"
"Beast," Ugly said, patting his hairy face, "why would I do that? He was in no danger, nor were my brothers; you said you wanted a female companion. And my sisters are all lovely and accomplished women who would grace the home of any merchant-prince. I was the spare, so I came. And it worked out, did it not?"
"In other words," replied the Beast slowly, his heart sinking, "your family gave me not the best it had but its leftovers. Because the leftovers could turn a profit."
Ugly nodded cheerfully. "I did not expect it to work out quite so well! Isn't it marvelous that we are so much alike?"
"Alike! How are we alike, save in ugliness?"
Ugly blinked at him, her small piggy eyes dull and uncomprehending. "What else is there?"
***
After that, the Beast began to spend less and less time with Ugly. He had wanted someone of lightning-swift curiosity and rare beauty of character--a woman who would see him not as an animal but as a human in the wrong sort of body. He had convinced himself that Ugly was that sort of person. Now he was beginning to see that she had wed him solely because he was rich and even uglier than herself.
As he realized this, he grew angrier and angrier, lying, deceiving her, and blaming many other people for his unfortunate marriage, until finally he could bear Ugly's presence no longer. He began hexing her, trying to cause a fatal accident. She could not kill herself without calling the legend he had bought and paid for into question, and his mansion was known to be well-guarded magically against burglars and assassins. So an accident it had to be.
Yet months passed, and no harm came to Ugly. In fact, after every accident, she discovered something valuable: a gold guilder, a watered sapphire, or a flower that was so rare and radiant that it was itself almost a form of currency. This seemed to please her immensely--but the Beast could not help but notice that she also seemed more reluctant to spend time with him these days as well. The Beast saw this and fumed. How dare she shrink from him!
Each day became more of a burden, for the Beast increasingly saw Ugly as the dull characterless lump that she was, and every day he saw more and more bewilderment, horror and revulsion in her eyes. At last it occurred to him that he and Ugly might well have been cursed at their very public wedding. And so he cast an enchantment that would reveal any magic surrounding him or Ugly that was not cast by himself.
Almost at once he saw that gleaming, glinting threads of silver--like moonlight and starlight mingled--were coiled about the chests and hands of both of them. Moreover, he could not discover the nature of the enchantment, and even the strongest spells he knew would not unbind the threads.
However, the Beast was an accomplished sorcerer, and while tracing a spell back to its caster could be difficult, it was far from impossible. It took him months rather than days, but at last he learned the name of the one who had cast that mysterious spell: Isabeau, the beauty who had abandoned him and who begun learning some measure of sorcery while still in this house.
The Beast could not learn where Isabeau now lived--only that it was much, much too far for him to travel. His illusions would not last the whole journey. So instead he painted a detailed image of Isabeau as she had been when last he saw her, mixing the paint with enchanted herbs and then infusing the herbal paint with his own breath so that the painting would be able to move and think and speak as if it were Isabeau herself.
The paint on the portrait was scarcely dry when the Beast demanded to know what manner of curse Isabeau had cast on him.
"I cast no curse," replied the painting--speaking, as was usual for such creations, as if she was the person painted. "And I have never wished you ill, even when you tricked me into lying with you." At this, the painted Isabeau blushed.
"I tell you, something is sorely wrong! I loved my wife once, and she me. Now we can scarcely bear to be together." And he told her every last detail of how they had once seen each other and how they detested each other now. He even admitted his attempts at…eliminating…Ugly; what difference did it make? Isabeau was only a painting, after all.
By the time he was done, the portrait of Isabeau looked nothing short of horrified. "But that was not what was supposed to happen!"
"What wasn't supposed to happen?"
Isabeau's image paced back and forth in her portrait. "Do you recall the day that I left? You said that if I had been able to see your heart, I would have loved you truly. I did not want to force anyone to love or be loved, but a spell that would let you and any other woman see each other's hearts...I wanted you both to be happy in whatever life you chose."
The Beast stared at the painting, realizing what Ugly had been seeing in him for so long. His contempt at her dullness. His rage that he had been saddled with the least valuable sister. Even--he winced at this--his attempted murders. Ugly knew his heart for certain.
We will have to part, he thought--and then realized what doing so would mean. He would have to admit publicly that he had lied, and that he loathed his wife as much as he had once claimed to love her. He would have to admit his extravagance and his lies, as well as the fact that he'd been a fool.
He could do this. He could confess that he'd been as proud and vain as any pretty-face princeling. But everyone would then know that he was no better than they. Worse, in the eyes of some--an animal pretending to be an enchanted man. A secret that Ugly could tell the entire world if they parted.
Or they could remain together, a couple believed to be blissfully happy while both of them knew it was a gigantic lie. A lie that he had bought and paid for.
Part and be shamed forever, losing all status in the eyes of humans...or lie and remain forever fettered to a woman whom he had only just begun to hate. Isabeau could not have cursed him better had she tried.
He did not even notice the still figure standing in the doorway of his magic workroom as she listened to his confession and to Isabeau's admission that she had cast a most ill-omened blessing.
He did not see Ugly slip away at last to her own chambers to weep and to decide what needed to happen now.
And he was still brooding in his workroom, glaring at the living portrait of a woman long since gone, when, her bags having been packed by quick, efficient servants and his carriage and coachman waiting to take Ugly wherever she wished to go, Ugly walked out of the manor's door for the last time.