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Full Summary: "The claws were long and tapered to a threatening point, but the gleam in the monstrous yellow eyes was so very, seductively human." A retelling of Beauty & the Beast, where the beast is more human than he seems.

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PART ONE
CLOCKS AND CATHEDRALS

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Beautiful Monster
A Retelling of Beauty & the Beast
By Mi'Kadiru
Prologue

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Had they been younger than I, my sisters definitely would have had different reactions than mine. The news that arrived along with Father was not only shocking, but I felt disgusted that I was being played as a bargaining chip. What was I, a poker piece? Apparently so, because my father's first words as he swung down from the saddle in front of our home for the first time in months were: "Get your things ready. I lost a bet in Newerton, so you're leaving us."

Needless to say I was speechless. What was he going on about? Newerton? That was practically a thousand miles away! "I'm not going to Newerton!"

Father snorted, eyebrows rising almost above his receding hairline. He finished untying his money purse from the saddle and then forced the reins into Serene's (my second eldest sister) hands. She didn't really have any say about whether she'd take the horse to the stable or not, because the look in Father's eyes as he pointed profligately toward it would have scared the shit out of anything. She rushed off, leaving me alone with Constance, my eldest sister, who was, it seemed, in shock.

If she was in shock, then I was about to faint dead away, something I'd never had any intention of ever doing in my whole life seeing as it would kill my pride like nothing else. Even thus, I felt the world spinning around me for a moment before I gave my head a small shake to clear my vision and watched in a sort of daze as Father tucked the money purse into his belt. Then he put his hands on his hips, towering above me menacingly. "You're going, Cherish, so get over it. I lost a bet and I'm an honest man-" Yeah right – this coming from the man that had just bargained off his youngest daughter! "-and since I can't pay the money, they're getting you, my youngest, understand?"

With that he pushed right past us and stormed off into the house. Any otherwise ignorant person would think he was half-mad with the agony over losing his youngest child, but Constance and I both knew his fury probably ebbed from that because he'd lost his money he probably hadn't had a drink in at least a few days' time.

Ten seconds after, we were both left standing in the courtyard, blinking quickly as our brains tried to process the information that had just been thrust into our knowledge more carelessly than . . . well, than a lot of things. We still were pretty disoriented when Serene came running at full sprint back from the stable. Tears filled her eyes and she looked as though she was about to have (or was already having) a nervous breakdown.

"Do you think he was serious!" she demanded, grabbing onto my sleeve and staring down at me. "He couldn't have been serious! Do you think he was, though!"

When Serene gets panicky, she tends to repeat herself.

After several "do you think he's serious!"(s), I finally drew my hand back and gave her a sound slap across the face. "Pull yourself together, Rene!"

Constance nodded desperately from beside me, hands clutched thoughtlessly in front of her and looking for all the world like it was the end of the world. "We – we've just got to calm down, that's right," she agreed, eyes wide and breathing labored. I began to grow anxious when I saw that my elder sister was practically hyperventilating and held my hands out just in case she fell over unconscious . . .

. . . which, fortunately, she didn't do, because I was a lot shorter and smaller than she was and I probably would have dropped her or broken my back trying not to. "Okay, calm down guys," I announced, trying to be the source of reason among a place where I was usually the emotional one. "Let's just stop and breathe for a second, okay?"

Silence settled as we took a deep breath and then realized it in unison.

"Now," I began after a few seconds, twisting my hands in the skirts of my gown. "Rene, you were closest to him – was he drunk?"

She shook her head.

Then I turned to Constance. "Connie, you read people well. Did he look like he was sick or something?"

She shook her head as well, though slowly, as though reluctant to do so, knowing what it would force us all to admit to ourselves.

Gasps escaped from my sisters' mouths and I squeezed my eyes shut hard. There was another short silence and then they both burst into loud, bawling tears, moaning and groaning to no end. For the first time in forever, I felt like crying too. Just what was going on exactly? I had a feeling that I wasn't really going to find out for quite some time.

I let Constance and Serene cry for a little while, both holding onto me painfully until it began to grow cold and the sky faded into cobalt. "If we stay outside we'll freeze." This, surprisingly, came from Constance, who, when she pulled away, looked perfectly calm. Her eyes weren't even swollen or red. She looked like nothing bad had happened at all. Serene wasn't so lucky – her face was pink and wet and she sniffed incessantly. We both looked, as we usually did, to Constance for guidance now and I was glad that I could go back to being the younger sister with less responsibility.

"We all know that Father likes me best," she said, smoothing out her skirts and adjusting the frilly cuffs around her wrists with as much composure as possible. After she was finished, she flipped her hair back over her shoulders with both hands and the black locks hung straight down her back in a way that was extremely similar to the way Mother's hair did. Her green eyes were almond shaped like Mother's, too. It wasn't a surprise why Father liked her best. "So I'll go talk to him. Stay here or something, but don't interfere." Constance cleared her throat and turned away, heading straight into the house with a confidence one wouldn't have thought possible if they'd seen her minutes before.

Serene was still sniffing a bit, so I leaned over and gave her a quick hug, forcing one of my well known grins in an attempt to lighten the mood. "Oh, Rene, don't worry about it," I joked, crossing my arms. "You know I wouldn't let that dog drag me anywhere unless I got something out of the deal, right?"

She didn't say anything, only stared at me with a sort of disappointment in her eyes. "Cherish," she said. "It's not funny."

It wasn't.

Constance returned ten or fifteen minutes later. Serene and I had moved ourselves to the wall and were currently leaning against each other for emotional support. I glanced up eagerly as I heard her footsteps approach, hoping to be greeted with a laughing, shining face, telling me that it was just another of Father's drunken ramblings.

But . . . she wasn't smiling. Or laughing. She looked completely calm – a calm that told me countless things. When she reached us, she kneeled down and swiftly pulled me into a hug, shoulders shaking in silent sobs. That's all it took.

I broke down and cried.

"I've never seen Father so angry," Constance whispered. Dawn was breaking and the three of us were huddled together outside in the courtyard. We hadn't even moved from the wall. I felt a lot safer with the two of them surrounding me, arms clutched around my middle as I held my usually smiling face in my hands, sobbing quietly. "He was rambling on and on about losing all his money and then thinking he could . . . win the next round, but he didn't . . ."

Feeling the hysteria still lurking within me, I let out a high pitched giggle, chest painfully tight around my heart. "Well he didn't seem so angry about losing me, did he? At least he'll have the rest of his money, right?" On and on I babbled until the words broke off into choking weeping and I was overcome with fear and grief once more.

Serene's arms tightened around me as she stared silently up at the red tinted sky. "When does she have to go?"

Constance's answer came immediately. "Today."

No one said anything else for a long time.

"We won't let him take you."

Rene nodded her agreement. I nodded too, although we all knew that it was not and could not be true.

True to my father's word, he had me out of the house and into a carriage before I had the chance to give my sisters, my best friends, a true goodbye. The last I ever saw of them was Serene collapsing into Constance's arms and a look of utter sadness filling Connie's eyes before the image was blurred over by tears and I had to blink. When I opened my eyes again, we were too far away for them to be visible anyway.

Father had decided that he was just too tired after his journey back, so he would stay instead at home whilst a trustworthy neighbor drove me to Newerton. And trustworthy indeed, was this man who appeared to be maybe in his early forties. His skin was gray and he may have been younger than he appeared. Father said this man, whose name was Greshold, lived to the north and west of us, but strange that I had never met him at our yearly Christmas party that we held annually for all neighbors within five miles . . .

I begged relentlessly that he pull over and let me return home, but he refused each time. I once tried even to leap from the side and fell into a heap on the side of the road, succeeding only in twisting my ankle and confirming my worst fears through the jingling sound that echoed from Mr. Greshold's pocket when he pulled me back up into the passenger's seat. Father'd actually bribed this "trustworthy neighbor" to take me to Newerton? Just who was this man that he'd gambled me to, that he feared him as much as to actually repay whatever debt he owed him? I doubted seriously that Father had been overwhelmed with guilt at the thought of not returning his spoils, as he had plenty of times "forgotten" to pay back money lost in gambles.

The ride was long and I remember every moment of it. Ten minutes down the road from my home and my head was already aching, my back hurting from sitting up so straight against the back of the carriage, and my eyes watering to no end. Just when I thought that this torture would reach no end, we suddenly pulled to a stop and I flew forward in my seat at the abruptness of it.

"Get out," snarled the once-stoic driver, shocking me with the vulgarity of his tone. What the hell had I ever done to him, anyway? "Welcome to your new home, Mrs. Naughton." The name he was using to so obviously refer to me was not only confusing but terrifying. Had . . . who had my father lost that bet to? Where was I? But most importantly - who had I become with the moment my father lay his faulty hand down and was instantly indebted into giving away his youngest daughter?

Before I could protest, a hand pushed me forward and I found myself falling forward, out of the carriage, out the door, and onto the hard gravel ground. "Damn it, man, what -"

"Well, well, well."

These words, simple yet tainted with a sort of terrifying warning, filled my ears quickly and left me with a dread so absolute I shan't forget it any time soon, no matter how long I live. Afraid as I was, I was surprised that I found courage enough to raise my eyes slowly up from the stones and dirt beneath me to the large black boots in front of me, the legs clad in patch worked brown pants, up, up, up to the face of a man who was not old, yet not young either. I was instantly repelled, but not by his face, which was handsome, but by the look in his eye. Was that . . . lust? Oh, my God . . . save me . . . .

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From Me: This story is the first in a trilogy of fairytale remakes I'm writing.

The second, Cinders & Glass, will be posted by Thanksgiving (this Thursday.)