(no subject)
Jan. 19th, 2011 11:19 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
readingredheadI was realizing I very rarely share my original fiction with people via this journal anymore, but I really like this particular little story and feel like it's self-contained and not horrendously written...and also it wouldn't fit in a comment, so I had to link to it from somewhere. :)
Title: Untitled at the moment, because I can't come up with anything that isn't HORRENDOUS.
Rating: G
Summary: Beauty hasn't been entirely open about her life before she came to live in the castle. Post-Beauty and the Beast (sort of the traditional version, closer to Robin McKinley's Beauty than the Disney movie)
Notes: Written for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
daria234 over at ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
comment_fic for the prompt, "before she became a fairy tale princess, she was a legendary warrior (that part got written out)"
After the transformation, but before the wedding, they talk.
They're sitting together, side by side, on a sofa that's little more than an overgrown armchair. She's about half on his lap, with her head leaning against one shoulder -- firmly muscled, but not as large as she'd expected. Considering what she had known him as before, she thought perhaps he'd keep some of the bulk of the beast after the transformation, but he's slimmed a bit. She likes that. She was never afraid of him, before, but this way he's more manageable.
He holds her left hand in his right, his thumb stroking the back of her hand absently, because he can now without worrying that a claw will draw blood. Someday, maybe, his awe for her will grow old, and she'll regret being his savior. But now, she thinks, it's a pretty good deal for the both of them -- and she knows, too, that he's more a savior to her than she's ever let him know.
"I suppose," he says, "there will have to be a wedding."
She smiles at the peevishness in his voice. She understands, though. After living all this time alone, with none but ghostly servants to do his bidding, he must be horrified at the notion of a large and formal gathering. She isn't exactly thrilled by the prospect, and says, "It doesn't have to be a big one."
She isn't even looking at him but she swears she can feel him smile, and wonders if this is the price she will pay for living with a beast for a time, and only now loving the man: some of the animal instinct has worn off, allowing her to sense things, like mood and tone, without the need for overt visual cues. "I...do not feel prepared for a large event," he says. "There is still so much to get used to."
She nods against him, not feeling the need -- yet -- to say more. In time, she expects, they will develop their plans for reintegrating this isolated castle back into the society from which his curse forced it to secede -- they will cut more reliable paths through the forest, resume friendly relations with the people of the neighboring towns, and become a part of something again -- but she knows, now, that many things with him will take time, and she doesn't expect anything to happen all at once, as long as it gets started. Marriage is certainly a start.
"Like I said. Small is fine."
"At any rate, I don't see how it could be otherwise," he says. "My family are gone. You have been so long away from yours. I suppose you might have friends, from the village, who would wish to attend?"
"Only if I promised them that the guest list would include a sufficient number of eligible young men."
"Well," he laughs, and it still sounds, to her ears, a little like a bark. Every day she discovers new things about the man he is, but she also learns to read in this familiar stranger the traces of the beast he was. The transformation is not total: in this, she takes comfort. "I suppose that leaves us with a very short guest list, then -- just your father."
Saints preserve her. She'd hoped he wouldn't mention that. But now he has, she can't bring herself to lie any longer, so she says simply, "He's not."
She feels his shoulders tense, feels something of the beast in him still. "What?"
She draws back, slightly, so she can look at his face -- his very new face that she's still getting used to, just like the rest of him that's not quite what she expected -- and says, "He's not my father."
Those amber eyes, though -- those haven't changed. "Explain." He may be human, but he hasn't forgotten how to growl.
Beauty steels herself, and begins to tell the story she wasn't certain she would ever have to tell, the one she still marvels at when she rehearses it to herself. "Once upon a time," she begins, "there was a fierce warrior. She had no family, no home, nothing to call her own, and it made her strong, because she had nothing to lose, but it made her hard, too." She cannot look him in the eye. Instead, she stares at the grate, and imagines she can see the shapes of her lost childhood flicker past in the fire and shadows. "She knew a lot about how to kill, and not very much at all about how to love. She wasn't quite a mercenary. The closest would be knight errant, though she expected recompense for services rendered, usually just a few meals and a roof over her head."
"When was this?"
She shrugged. "Once upon a time," she says, "is meant to cover all manner of sins and omissions."
He growls again, lower this time, and she's afraid. Not that he'll assault her -- that, she could defend against -- but that he'll become angry, and leave before she finishes the story.
"One evening," she says, "this woman -- this warrior -- arrived in a village. The first door she knocked on belonged to a man in extreme disarray. He had encountered a beast in a castle, you see, and had only been allowed free on the condition that his youngest daughter return in his place." She takes a deep breath, then says, "But you see, his youngest daughter was pregnant. He couldn't let her go. So the warrior, who'd dealt with her fair share of beasts, and couldn't see how this one would be any different, offered to go instead."
Silence. Logs shift in the grate, and a few sparks fly out toward the stiff figures on the armchair, burning out before they make it past the hearth.
"Did she?"
Outside, the wind picks up, shifting softly through the leaves.
"She did. But it was different." She risks a glance back at his face, and it hurts, but she has to try to hold his gaze. "They told me you were a beast, and at first, I thought they were right -- but they weren't," she says, shaking her head. "Or if you were, then so was I. And I didn't want to have to tell you, because I didn't know how you'd react, but whatever you say, I can't help but think -- we've both been saved."
He still holds her hand. Slowly, without breaking her gaze, he lifts it to his lips, and whispers against her knuckles, "I suppose that beasts and warriors alike deserve their happy endings."
Title: Untitled at the moment, because I can't come up with anything that isn't HORRENDOUS.
Rating: G
Summary: Beauty hasn't been entirely open about her life before she came to live in the castle. Post-Beauty and the Beast (sort of the traditional version, closer to Robin McKinley's Beauty than the Disney movie)
Notes: Written for
daria234 over at comment_fic for the prompt, "before she became a fairy tale princess, she was a legendary warrior (that part got written out)"After the transformation, but before the wedding, they talk.
They're sitting together, side by side, on a sofa that's little more than an overgrown armchair. She's about half on his lap, with her head leaning against one shoulder -- firmly muscled, but not as large as she'd expected. Considering what she had known him as before, she thought perhaps he'd keep some of the bulk of the beast after the transformation, but he's slimmed a bit. She likes that. She was never afraid of him, before, but this way he's more manageable.
He holds her left hand in his right, his thumb stroking the back of her hand absently, because he can now without worrying that a claw will draw blood. Someday, maybe, his awe for her will grow old, and she'll regret being his savior. But now, she thinks, it's a pretty good deal for the both of them -- and she knows, too, that he's more a savior to her than she's ever let him know.
"I suppose," he says, "there will have to be a wedding."
She smiles at the peevishness in his voice. She understands, though. After living all this time alone, with none but ghostly servants to do his bidding, he must be horrified at the notion of a large and formal gathering. She isn't exactly thrilled by the prospect, and says, "It doesn't have to be a big one."
She isn't even looking at him but she swears she can feel him smile, and wonders if this is the price she will pay for living with a beast for a time, and only now loving the man: some of the animal instinct has worn off, allowing her to sense things, like mood and tone, without the need for overt visual cues. "I...do not feel prepared for a large event," he says. "There is still so much to get used to."
She nods against him, not feeling the need -- yet -- to say more. In time, she expects, they will develop their plans for reintegrating this isolated castle back into the society from which his curse forced it to secede -- they will cut more reliable paths through the forest, resume friendly relations with the people of the neighboring towns, and become a part of something again -- but she knows, now, that many things with him will take time, and she doesn't expect anything to happen all at once, as long as it gets started. Marriage is certainly a start.
"Like I said. Small is fine."
"At any rate, I don't see how it could be otherwise," he says. "My family are gone. You have been so long away from yours. I suppose you might have friends, from the village, who would wish to attend?"
"Only if I promised them that the guest list would include a sufficient number of eligible young men."
"Well," he laughs, and it still sounds, to her ears, a little like a bark. Every day she discovers new things about the man he is, but she also learns to read in this familiar stranger the traces of the beast he was. The transformation is not total: in this, she takes comfort. "I suppose that leaves us with a very short guest list, then -- just your father."
Saints preserve her. She'd hoped he wouldn't mention that. But now he has, she can't bring herself to lie any longer, so she says simply, "He's not."
She feels his shoulders tense, feels something of the beast in him still. "What?"
She draws back, slightly, so she can look at his face -- his very new face that she's still getting used to, just like the rest of him that's not quite what she expected -- and says, "He's not my father."
Those amber eyes, though -- those haven't changed. "Explain." He may be human, but he hasn't forgotten how to growl.
Beauty steels herself, and begins to tell the story she wasn't certain she would ever have to tell, the one she still marvels at when she rehearses it to herself. "Once upon a time," she begins, "there was a fierce warrior. She had no family, no home, nothing to call her own, and it made her strong, because she had nothing to lose, but it made her hard, too." She cannot look him in the eye. Instead, she stares at the grate, and imagines she can see the shapes of her lost childhood flicker past in the fire and shadows. "She knew a lot about how to kill, and not very much at all about how to love. She wasn't quite a mercenary. The closest would be knight errant, though she expected recompense for services rendered, usually just a few meals and a roof over her head."
"When was this?"
She shrugged. "Once upon a time," she says, "is meant to cover all manner of sins and omissions."
He growls again, lower this time, and she's afraid. Not that he'll assault her -- that, she could defend against -- but that he'll become angry, and leave before she finishes the story.
"One evening," she says, "this woman -- this warrior -- arrived in a village. The first door she knocked on belonged to a man in extreme disarray. He had encountered a beast in a castle, you see, and had only been allowed free on the condition that his youngest daughter return in his place." She takes a deep breath, then says, "But you see, his youngest daughter was pregnant. He couldn't let her go. So the warrior, who'd dealt with her fair share of beasts, and couldn't see how this one would be any different, offered to go instead."
Silence. Logs shift in the grate, and a few sparks fly out toward the stiff figures on the armchair, burning out before they make it past the hearth.
"Did she?"
Outside, the wind picks up, shifting softly through the leaves.
"She did. But it was different." She risks a glance back at his face, and it hurts, but she has to try to hold his gaze. "They told me you were a beast, and at first, I thought they were right -- but they weren't," she says, shaking her head. "Or if you were, then so was I. And I didn't want to have to tell you, because I didn't know how you'd react, but whatever you say, I can't help but think -- we've both been saved."
He still holds her hand. Slowly, without breaking her gaze, he lifts it to his lips, and whispers against her knuckles, "I suppose that beasts and warriors alike deserve their happy endings."
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(no subject)
Date: 2011-01-20 07:51 am (UTC)I love the way you set the mood, where they have an intimacy but also that sense of anticipation, where they are in love but still cautious about it. I LOVE that she is a mercenary type who pretends to be a naive girl and that now they BOTH have to transform into something else and learn to do it together. LOVE it!!!
(no subject)
Date: 2011-01-20 06:58 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2011-01-20 11:03 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2011-01-20 11:24 pm (UTC)Also, random question: are you on Archive of Our Own? Because I did cross-post this story there (http://archiveofourown.org/works/153870) and if you have an account I'd love to list you officially as a "recipient" :)
(no subject)
Date: 2011-01-20 11:37 pm (UTC)Totally get it about the time. Thanks again for such a cool and wonderful and well-written fill!!
(no subject)
Date: 2011-01-20 08:19 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2011-01-20 11:37 pm (UTC)(Also, I have been loving that icon of yours since the first time I saw you use it, and should inform you that it's awesome.)
(no subject)
Date: 2011-01-21 08:05 am (UTC)(Isn't it great? I spent an entire afternoon searching for a new default icon that felt likeme.)
(no subject)
Date: 2011-01-20 06:34 pm (UTC)I really like the writing style. I really like the writing style.
But...I can't get over it not being the twist I wanted. It kind of came out of nowhere, and doesn't fit into the way she's portrayed in the original (though I haven't read the McKinley interpretation). I dunno.
And it's BELLE, not Beauty!
(no subject)
Date: 2011-01-20 11:36 pm (UTC)In the McKinley version, her name is anglicized to Beauty (which is also the title of the book), and I was thinking in those terms when I wrote this. But McKinley is actually rather brilliant, and her novel begins:
"I was the youngest of three daughters. Our literal-minded mother named us Grace, Hope, and Honour, but few people except perhaps the minister who had baptized all three of us remembered my given name. My father still likes to tell the story of how I acquired my odd nickname: I had come to him for further information when I first discovered that our names meant something besides you-come-here. He succeeded in explaining grace and hope, but he had some difficulty trying to make the concept of honour understandable to a five-year-old. I heard him out, but with an expression of deepening disgust; and when he was finished I said: 'Huh! I'd rather be Beauty.'"
(As the fact that I have quoted this might tell you, I have the book with me at the moment and you're free to borrow if you're interested. Apparently it's the unacknowledged source of some of the imagery that Disney added to their version -- including the library! Although it's cooler in McKinley's.)
(no subject)
Date: 2011-01-21 06:32 pm (UTC)I would love to read it, but probably shouldn't, even this early in the semester. Hm...
(no subject)
Date: 2011-01-21 07:16 pm (UTC)*Technically Beaumont's telling is not the original, it's an abridgment/retelling of an earlier story by Villaneuve...but having read them both, I can safely recommend Beaumont's. It's a better read.
(no subject)
Date: 2011-01-23 09:56 am (UTC)Old fairy tales always seem to have characters they just forget about -- in this case the brothers. They show up, what, twice?
I may get to these some time in the future. (I just remember that when Rebecca was reading "Heart's Blood" I repeatedly complained about stealing Jane Yolen's title for a completely different book.)
Great story
Date: 2011-01-31 02:40 pm (UTC)Small critique: we don't know they're in the den/living room with its fireplace until the grate is mentioned, so they're sitting on a couch in an empty room.
-Teng
(no subject)
Date: 2011-03-10 06:33 am (UTC)