The Beast's Bride

by Myles, Jill

A beast in an enchanted castle. At least Pippa wasn't going to have to marry him. She slid off the side of the horse and looked up at Belle. Her sister had gone white in the face, though she still managed to look lovely despite being bedraggled and wet.

  "I'm not sure I can do this, Pippy," she whispered. "I'm not very brave."

  "Pippa," she corrected, heading for the gate and trying to look all business. "And you don't have to be brave. I'm right here with you. I can be the brave one if you don't feel like it."

  "I don't," Belle admitted, and slid off of the horse as well, thumping to the ground next to Pippa. "Are you sure we can't go back?"

  As if he knew his part in the fairy tale, the horse neighed and reared. The two women backed away, avoiding the flailing hooves of the suddenly wild beast. A moment later, the wild-eyed horse turned and galloped into the forest, leaving them stranded at the gates. So much for returning back to town.

  If Pippa had been a betting kind of woman, she'd have guessed that Muffin would have had something to do with that. "No turning back now," she said cheerfully, and pushed at the rusty iron gate.

  It swung open with a low, gutteral creak that sounded like the moan of a dying creature. "Not helping," Pippa called out to the foggy forest. "Not helping at all."

  Belle dashed forward and grasped Pippa's arm, clinging to it. "I'm scared. Papa said it was a terrible beast."

  Pippa began to walk up the crumbling path, heading toward the castle. "Papa likes his drinky-drink a bit too much for his own good. It can't be as bad as all that. Maybe this guy's only slightly beastly." She wasn't entirely sure about this whole 'beast curse' thing. After all, beast-men didn't 1exist where she came from. Maybe it was just a dude with a scar or something. Maybe a dude with bad manners. Something logical and non-enchanted and Belle's dad was a drunk who liked to scare the shit out of his daughters.

  Belle quivered at her side and said nothing, hiding behind Pippa as she walked.

  "Look at the bright side," she felt the need to point out. "He's got real estate. That means something, right? It could just be a fixer-upper."

  "I don't know what that means," Belle told her in a hushed voice.

  Of course not. "Don't you want to be the mistress of a castle?"

  "Not this castle," Belle said stubbornly as they went up the walk. "How could Papa do this to us?"

  Pippa had to admit that 'Papa' wasn't high on the list of people she liked at the moment. "He's a douche," she agreed. "But it's starting to rain harder, so let's pick up the pace, all right?"

  She moved Belle's clinging hands from her arm to her hand, and they raced up the rest of the path. A stone gate loomed at the top of the path, with a rusty portcullis drawn up, and they passed underneath it into an overgrown, cobbled courtyard. On the far side of the courtyard sat the keep itself; a heavy, wooden double door remained shut at the top of a stairway of large, shallow steps. Pippa glanced up in the air, studying the castle through the raindrops spattering in her eyes.

  No lights were on. There were definitely turrets, though. She wondered how this place would look in the daylight. Still scary, or just interesting and overgrown?

  "Come on," she told Belle and headed up the stairs. "Let's go meet your bridegroom."

  They approached the door. As they moved forward, the rain began to pound heavily once more, herding them toward shelter. Pippa and Belle shrugged their cloaks closer, and Pippa took the lead as Belle seemed content to cower behind her. She stepped up to the door, examined it, and then rapped on the front. After all, she knew someone was home, didn't she? Thinking back to the Disney movie, she wondered if the servants in this one would be teapots and candlesticks or if they were under some other sort of enchantment.

  The door opened, and both she and Belle took a step backward, gasping.

  The man that answered the door had the face of a boar—curving tusks stuck out from his mouth, and his nose was a furry snout. Small, piggish eyes stared down at them.

  Belle clung to Pippa's arm. "He is a beast!"

  2Well, yes, that was part of the fairy tale. Except she hadn't quite thought the man would be so very…gross-looking. Even his snout seemed a little slimy. Pippa was taken aback at the sight of him. She was supposed to make Belle fall in love with this? Talk about an impossible task. "It's just bad lighting," she told Belle, though they both knew that was a lie.

  "I can't marry him," Belle said, her voice rising a hysterical note. "I can't!"

  Small, piggish eyes stared at the two women, waiting for something.

  "Um, hello," Pippa said, smiling brightly despite Belle's clutching fingers. "Are you the master of this castle?"

  The boar-headed man shook his head. He bowed and extended an arm—a very human arm,

  she noticed—indicating that they should enter.

  Whew. "He's not the one you're here to marry," she told Belle. "I think he's a servant."

  The boar nodded and waved a hand, indicating that they should enter.

  "I want to go home," Belle said, a hint of whine in her voice.

  "We can't," Pippa told her grimly. "That's not how this works. Come on. I want to get out of the rain."

  She took a step forward, even though she was rather unnerved at the sight of the boar-headed man. He was downright creepy, especially the way his small eyes watched them. He wore a long, dark tunic of some kind, too, belted at the waist. It looked like medieval clothing of some sort.

  Well, that made sense, considering they were standing at the doors of a castle and wearing cloaks. Pippa nudged Belle and repeated herself. "Come on."

  The two went inside. Pippa's steps were slow because Belle was clinging to her, terrified. She smiled at the boar-man as if this were a normal sort of thing. As they stepped inside, another woman walked past, a large set of keys jangling at a low slung belt at her waist. She had the head of a striped house cat.

  Belle gasped at the sight of her and clung even more tightly to Pippa.

  Okay. Maybe they were all enchanted to be animals? It made sense, considering the 'prince'

  was a beast in the fairy tale. She didn't remember if everyone in the castle was quite so eerie in the fairy tale, though.

  The door shut behind them, and Pippa couldn't resist a small squeak of surprise. Belle's trembling hand clutched hers and Pippa forced herself to stand straight and look the butler in the eye. "Where is the master of this place?"

  2The butler-boar gestured that they should follow him and began to walk deeper into the hall.

  Like a cathedral, the long hallway stretched out before them, full of shadows and lit by flickering torches. Pippa’s eyes were nearly as wide as Belle’s as she took in her surroundings.

  Belle’s entire cozy cottage could be tucked neatly into the corner of this great hallway. Oddly, though there were columns and a massive carved staircase at the far end of the hall, there were no decorations. No wall hangings, no sculptures, nothing. It was just endless bleak stone and shadow.

  "I would like to leave now," Belle whimpered in her ear as they moved forward down the dark hall.

  She ignored Belle's protests and simply clutched her hand tighter. This was for Belle's own good. Belle's…and her own. This had to work if she didn’t want to end up as a ghost stuck in a parking garage for all eternity. The fairy godmother had been quite firm on that.

  The butler led them down a corridor, past an empty hall, and into a dark, shadowy room where a fire blazed in a massive fireplace. The walls were bare and a massive rug covered the floor. The room was long, but there was only one piece of furniture in the entire chamber, and it was near the fire. One chair. One very large, very obviously well-used chair.

  The servant gestured at the empty chair near the fireplace and indicated that they should sit.

  "You sit down near the fire, Belle," Pippa told her sister. "Get warm." After all, she was the star of this fairy tale, wasn't she? Pippa was just the extra baggage.

  Belle shrugged off her wet cloak in a graceful motion and toss
ed it onto the floor. The wet fabric made a squishing sound as it landed on the stones, and then Belle pulled the chair closer to the roaring fire. "Thank goodness. I'm so cold."

  Pippa was cold, too, but she couldn't relax quite as easily as Belle. Belle had been terrified moments ago, Pippa thought sourly, but that hadn’t lasted very long. Instead, Belle was holding her long locks of hair closer to the fire to dry and ignoring both Pippa and the butler standing there.

  The butler watched Belle with rather avid attention in his small, piggy eyes. Pippa threw her hood down and glared at him. "We're fine now. Thank you."

  He gestured at the door, then back at the two of them, motioning that they should stay put.

  Pippa nodded, and added, "We're hungry and thirsty from travel, if you could be so kind as to get us something to eat and drink."

  2He nodded again, ever silent, and then bowed. Turning, he moved to the door and closed it behind him, leaving Pippa and Belle alone in the small, cozy firelit room.

  "Come sit near the fire and warm yourself, Pippy," Belle said cheerfully. "I feel much better now that my hair's drying out. Maybe those awful beast-things will leave us alone until morning."

  "I doubt that," Pippa said in a wry tone, but she did step closer to the fire. Her own hair was no doubt plastered to her skull in a totally unattractive mess that could most likely be called

  ‘drowned rat chic.’ Meanwhile, Belle perched on the edge of the large chair she sat upon, her golden curls slowly beginning to dry. Her pale dress clung to her like a second skin, outlining large, high breasts and jutting nipples. Belle seemed totally unaware.

  Pippa crossed her arms over her own meager chest and tried not to feel, well, inadequate. The attempt was a total failure, of course. She decided to study the room instead. Pippa examined the stark walls, carved of the same stone. Again, nothing. It was like all the decorations or signs of residency had been removed on purpose. No one liked this stark of a décor, did they?

  She eyed the rather large wooden chair that her sister was perched on. The chair itself was enormous, the arms easily as big as Pippa's own waist, and the back of it was as tall as Pippa herself, and three times as wide. Whoever owned that chair…was a rather large sort of occupant.

  And that made Pippa's throat go dry. She wondered if Belle had realized where she sat yet.

  Judging from the way her sister hummed and held her hair close to the cozy fire, not likely.

  The door opened, and Pippa turned, expecting to see the strange butler returning with their food.

  It wasn't him.

  This man—no, creature—filled the doorframe. Hulking and enormous, he stepped out of the shadows and into the flickering firelight, and Pippa froze in place at the sight of him, Belle's squeak of alarm behind her barely registered.

  This was the beast.

  This was…not good.

  The first thing Pippa noticed was his size. His shoulders were big and barreled, wider than any human man's could be. He was tall, too, straightening to his full height as he entered the room. And he wasn't human. Dark, rust-colored fur covered his long limbs and broad chest. The 2clothing he wore was tattered and strained over his body, and his thighs were thick with muscle, his feet cloven hooves.

  The most terrible thing was his face, though. Whereas the butler had been boar-like, this man was a cat. Not just any cat, but a predator. Like a lion. A fierce ruff of mane surrounded his face, and his eyes were gleaming and slitted like a cat’s. His nose was a muzzle and his mouth dripped with enormous fangs that jutted halfway down his chin. Not just any cat—a saber-tooth tiger of some kind.

  And there was not an ounce of kindness in his face. His eyes moved over Pippa, the look on his face almost triumphant. "You're the merchant's daughter?"

  "Yes," Pippa began, and when he took a step toward her, his hand reaching out for her, she lost her nerve and added, "But my sister is the one that will be your bride."

  He stared down at her with confusion, those predator eyes narrowing. Then his gaze moved to where Belle cowered near the fire. Pippa watched his gaze roam over her sister, and the fury left his face. He took a shuffling step forward, hooves clacking on the marble floors.

  Belle gave another squeak of terror and moved behind Pippa, clinging to her sister's clothing.

  The beast's eyes rested on Belle. His mouth twisted, the fangs moving in a way that almost fascinated her. Then, he spit out a gruff, "You will be my bride?"

  Pippa heard Belle's sharp intake of breath. Then, an indignant, "No!"

  The beast's eyes darkened in fury and he roared his outrage straight in Pippa's face (since she was standing between the two of them as a shield). He roared so loud that Pippa's innards seemed to shiver with the force of it.

  And that was a little scary. Okay, a lot. But Pippa was getting more pissed than afraid. He couldn't hurt her. She wasn't even really part of this fairy tale. So she just waited for him to finish having his little temper tantrum. His breath blew the bangs off of her face, and she winced, fanning a hand in front of her face. "Dude, breath mints."

  "What?" He roared in her face again.

  "Nothing. But if you're trying to convince my sister to marry you, having a temper tantrum is not the way to do it." And it was going to make her job as matchmaker a lot harder.

  "You dare to chastise me?" He roared in her face again.

  2Okay, so that quivering in her body wasn't just her internal organs. She was a little afraid of him, but just a little. Belle's clinging, terrified hands on the back of her dress were not helping either.

  "Pippy," Belle said in a low voice. "Don't."

  "No," Pippa said, trying to step forward and confront the beast, but Belle's clinging hands were making that impossible. "Here's a hint for you. You don't ask someone to marry you and then roar in their face."

  He glared at Pippa, incredulous.

  Then, he dropped his jaw and roared again, so loud that the stone walls of the room shook, and Pippa’s entire face felt blasted with the fury of his anger. Somewhere in the background, plates rattled and something fell off the wall.

  But she didn't budge. She just put her hands on her hips and glared at him, waiting.

  "You cannot leave this place—either of you—without my permission!" The beast roared, and then turned and left the room, slamming the door behind him. There was a crash and a tinkle as something else fell off the wall.

  "God's nightgown," Belle said in a tiny voice, her breath coming in sharp, anxious gasps.

  "That is the beast? I can't do this, Pippa."

  Pippa turned and grasped Belle by the shoulders. "You can do this. Everything will be fine.

  He's just being an ass. I'm sure he'll get better with time."

  Belle shook her head. "I'll never marry him. Never."

  And her jaw set in a stubborn way that made Pippa worry. She thought about what the fairy godmother had said. The Belle of this reality never changes her mind about marrying the beast.

  She thought of the beast, his inhuman face and scowl, and his terrible breath. His torn clothing.

  His fangs and his claws. Well, this wouldn't be easy. She knew it wouldn't, but she was confident she could get the two of them together, somehow.

  After all, she was the only player on the board who knew how things were supposed to work out. That gave her a distinct advantage. All she had to do was manipulate the chess pieces into place and then let the king take the queen.

  She frowned to herself, even as she enveloped the trembling Belle into a hug. Perhaps the chess analogy wasn't the best one, since in chess, the queen was a much stronger piece than the 2king. This time, the bishop (or whatever piece the ugly stepsister was relegated to) would just have to clean up the board.

  ~~***~~

  Next to Pippa in the bed, Belle snored away, blissfully content as if they weren't in an enchanted castle with a beast for an owner, sleeping in a strange bedroom.

  Pippa stared up at the ceiling, drumming her fingers on the blan
ket. She was unable to sleep, and it wasn't just because Belle sawed logs like a lumberjack.

  Things were not going as planned. After Muffin had told her the basics, Pippa'd figured that she could swing it. After all, how hard could it be to have some prince fall in love with her gorgeous sister? Gorgeous, and just a wee bit stupid sister, she amended. Muffin had warned her that Belle was stubborn, but she hadn’t counted on her being stubborn to an obnoxious degree.

  She hadn't counted on the Beast being a total dick about things. These two were more likely to end up in opposite corners of a boxing ring than in a passionate embrace.

  Pippa sighed. Failure was not really an option, though. She'd get them to hook up somehow, even if she had to pull a massive amount of strings. They were living a fairy tale, after all. Fairy tales generally had happy endings, didn't they? It was the wicked, ugly stepsister that got hosed.

  Dang, she really hated being the ugly stepsister.

  Belle rolled over in the bed, mumbling, and tossed an arm over Pippa, trying to cuddle her.

  Ugh. Belle was pretty, but apparently she was a sweaty sleeper. The hand she planted on Pippa was moist. Pippa slid out from under the covers and out of the bed. Since she was awake, she might as well find the toilet. Maybe a drink of water.

  She didn't find a dressing robe anywhere in their room—granted, she hadn’t brought one with her and there wasn’t a magic talking wardrobe like in the Disney movies to shoot out clothing for her—so she opened the door and peeked down the stone hallway. No one. The castle was full of shadows, the only light pouring in from the large stained glass window at the far end of the hallway. Pippa tiptoed down the hall, noting her surroundings in the quiet gloom. She'd been too distracted by Belle's hysterics earlier to truly get a look at their new 'home,' and what she saw wasn't all that discouraging.

  2It was a castle, of course. It was stone and had heavy wooden doors and cold floors. But there was also something serenely beautiful about the place. It seemed to whisper of history and secrets, and she was fascinated despite herself. Belle was crazy if she didn't want to live in a castle. A castle was way better than the crappy, straw-covered cottage with the dirt floor.