Beauty and Her Beast

Placing the lavender bouquet gingerly on the coverlet, Christian retreated several steps away fearful that his presence would scare her.

For the last three days Agnes and Melissa had kept him away from Anna, in that time he’d come to terms with the fact that she would never love him.

To her, he would always be a beast, but perhaps she could learn to trust him enough to let him be near her again.

“I picked these for you this morning,” he said, looking mournfully at Anna. “I thought they might cheer you up a little.”

Still staring out the window, Anna lifted her hand, and swept the flowers onto the floor.

“Please take them away,” she said almost to herself. “The smell of them makes me ill.”

Not knowing what else to do, Christian crouched down and began retrieving the fallen stems.

“Is there something else you would like me to bring you instead? Maybe a book?” he asked hopefully. “I could bring you Thurlow or Shakespeare, or perhaps Bryon.”

“My freedom,” she replied, not turning to look at him, her voice barely above a whisper.

“What?” he asked, not sure he’d heard her correctly, she’d spoken so softly.

“I want to leave, Lord Beauchamp,” she repeated, using his full title. “I want my freedom.”

Christian fell to his knees at her side, cradling his face in his hands. He so much wanted to reach up and touch her, to reassure her that he had never meant to hurt her and that it would never happen again. But he feared alarming her.

“Please don’t ask me to do that,” he begged. “I would die without you here.”

“I will die if I stay,” she replied with a small tremor in her voice. “Please,” she sobbed, “please let me go.”

Christian rose from his knees and flung his arms around her waist, pulling her into his embrace, only to be stopped by her cry of pain.

“I’m sorry Anna,” Christian said, relaxing his grip on her. “I am so sorry. I’ve waited so long for someone like you, someone I could love and who could love me too. And you do, you know you love me…”

He paused when Anna stiffened.

“Please say it,” he begged. “Say it and everything will be better. Everything will change.”

With unexpected viciousness, Anna turned to face him, rage burning in her eyes.

“I will never, never tell you that!!! Never!!!” she screamed, struggling so violently that Christian immediately released her and quickly backed away.

“Anna, please….” he begged.

“Get out!!!” she yelled with one last burst of rage before throwing herself on her pillow and sobbing violently.

~~~~~~

Agnes sat with Anna, trying to get her to eat the milk soaked bread she had brought her.

“You need to eat something Anna,” she said, holding the spoon towards her.

Anna turned her head away not wanting anyone to see her face.

“No thank you,” she said in a wake voice. “I’m not hungry.”

“Anna,” Agnes said more firmly. “You are going to eat this or I will have to call Melissa in to hold you down while I force it down your throat.”

Anna turned a tear streaked face to her. It was all Agnes could do to not gasp aloud at what confronted her. Anna’s lips were a web of scratches and scabs, one line of injury overlaying another. Her eyes were rimmed with dark circles from sorrow and lack of peaceful sleep.

“I’m not hungry,” Anna replied weakly before turning her back to the older woman.

Unable to coax Anna to eat even a single bite, Agnes gave up and left the girl to sleep. Clambering over piles of debris, Agnes made her way into what was left of Christian’s chambers. She’d avoided visiting him since his attack on Anna out of anger and disappointment, now she needed to see him.

Anna was getting worse, giving up on life, and without more help than she herself could provide, it wouldn’t be long before the young girl died.

“Christian,” Agnes grunted, having to use the weight of her whole body to push the door to his room open. “I need to talk to you.”

Feeling the door stick firm, she squeezed through the small gap she’d been able to make. The room she stepped into was dark and cold, the fireplace black and empty.

“Christian?” she called again, unease strangling her voice as she edged her way into the room. In the dimness, Agnes stumbled on a bundle of clothes, wrapped around an immovable object. Slowly reaching down, she felt her hands running through coarse wet fur and over broken horns.

“Christian!” she screamed. “Oh, Christian, what have you done?”

“Let me be,” Christian’s voice growled weakly.

“You bloody fool,” Agnes chastised as she knelt down, gently cradling Christian’s head into her lap. “You know you cannot die. The curse won’t let you.”

“I want to die,” he replied sadly turning his wrecked face into Agnes’ embrace. “I deserve to die for what I’ve done.”

“Oh, Christian,” Agnes soothed, trying to see how badly he’d injured himself in the darkened room. It looked as if he’d forcefully broken his horns off at the base, but she could see, even in this light, the sparks of magic beginning to regrow them.

His face was marred by scratches, large pieces of flesh missing, but these too were glowing with healing magic.

She sat there, holding her lord and master until he’d cried himself out. Though she was still angry with him for his abuse of Anna, she was still the boy she’d watched grow and loved.

When his sobs had settled down, Agnes left him and, using the shattered bits of furniture, started a fire in the hearth. As the flames grew, she heard Christian stirring and turned to see him struggling into a sitting position.

“I wish the magic of the curse worked for Anna the way it works for you,” Agnes said softly.

“What did you say?” Christian asked, turning to look at her.

“I said, ‘I wish the magic of the curse worked for Anna the way it works for you’,” Agnes repeated. “I’m not sure there is anything else I can do for her. Some of the cuts look to be infected.”

“Even with everything you and Melissa have done for her?” he asked, concern adding animation to his face.

Agnes shook her head sadly.

“The damage you inflicted was extensive,” she replied. “If we can’t fight the corruption, I fear she will die.”

Jumping to his feet, Christian paced the room, throwing pieces of rubble out of his way, barely missing Agnes with several large chunks of wood and ceramic.

“She can’t die, Agnes,” he panted, rubbing his paws across his face. “Not because of me.”

“I don’t know what else we can do,” she said to his back.

“You can’t,” Christian said, an idea coming to him. “But I think I can.”

Before she could ask what he was talking about, he was gone, running out of the room.

Confused, she stood and began to follow. Moments later she heard screams echoing through the halls once more.

“Dear God,” she breathed as she lifted her skirts and began running towards the sound.