A/N: All right, in honor of my favorite fairy tale, I've decided to write my own version of Beauty and the Beast. I don't think I've ever read the actual original version of the story (ironic since it's my favorite), but I've read/seen a lot of versions, so my story may reflect aspects of all of them, along with my own ideas. Ok, enjoy. And please review!

Chapter 1:

The day was warm, as days often were that time of year, that time just before the leaves began to change. The sun hung off the dark petals of the roses, dripping its golden-red light. At first there had only been four of them, those four precious roses. But now the flowers covered the castle almost entirely, their bloodstained thorns climbing even up the walls of the castle. Hundreds of roses there were, thousands, a mark of the centuries he had been there.

And now a new one was added to their numbers, her dark red face turned to him mournfully. Soon, she would be lost amongst the others, one beautiful rose among many. He would forget, like he always had, and begin again. He turned away from her. Though a slow ache throbbed in his heart, it would soon fade, and he would return again to his garden, until the next found her way into the corners of his heart. How much longer?

He must leave today, before the day wore on too far. Sometimes he wondered why he even still bothered, and yet, as long as hope remained for those four beloved roses, he would continue. There was no other choice. He must leave today.

---

If her sisters, Elaine and Rosalinde were two beautiful flowers, Clari reminded her father of a rosebud—not yet fully blossomed, but still beautiful and fragile. Her simple innocence made him smile, and he often thought she would always stay that way, his sweet, innocent rosebud. And yet, here she was, already sixteen and preparing to attend her first ball with her sisters, her sort of coming out ceremony, and she would become a part of society, a young woman eligible to be married. And with coming of age came new knowledge of the world, and he wondered how long he could shield her innocence. The thought made him frown.

While Elaine and Rosalinde twirled and pampered themselves in front of the mirror, lavishing themselves with perfume and making dainty adjustments to their gowns, Clari sat quietly in a chair beside them, content with the simple sky blue dress she had made herself. The dress did not have as many as many bows and ruffles as her sisters', but it suited her, bringing out the blue of her eyes and the faint pink of her cheeks. Her simple decision was sensible, for gaud did not do well on her, but only made her look small and silly, like a child playing dress up.

Clari began to sing softly, a tune which her mother had sang to the girls when they were children. Clari loved to sing, though her voice was not as pretty as her mother's had been.

"Oh, Clari, don't start that awful racket, please," Elaine groaned, turning in the midst of brushing her dark auburn curls to glare at her younger sister.

Clari stopped singing immediately, and stared shamefully at her hands clasped in her lap. "I'm sorry, Elaine," she said softly.

"Elaine, don't speak such nonsense," their father scolded. "Clari has a lovely voice, and I enjoy hearing her sing."

Elaine rolled her eyes up exasperatedly. "Please, father! You only say that because it reminds you of mother," she said, waving her hand dramatically.

"It's all right," Clari's timid voice said. "I won't sing when Elaine is around, if she doesn't like it."

"Oh, Clari, you're always so submissive," Rosalinde said, looking towards her sister. "You should stand up for yourself."

"Yes," Clari said. "I'm sorry."

"Oh, never mind," Rosalinde sighed. She turned to Elaine, placing her hands on her hips. "Elaine, you have been primping your hair for over an hour! Are you quite finished with that hairbrush?"

"Rosalinde," Elaine said, glancing at the blond beside her and continuing to brush her own hair. "I must look my best for tonight's ball."

"Honestly," Rosalinde cried, grabbing the brush from her sister's hand.

"Hey!" Elaine grabbed the brush again and attempted to pull it from Rosalinde's hands. "I'm not finished."

Rosalinde tightened her grip on the hairbrush's handle. "You're already engaged, Elaine," she said. "There's no need to flaunt your beauty anymore, let someone else have a chance."

Elaine glared at her sister and tugged harder. "I still need to look beautiful for my dear Henry," she said. "Besides, it's not like brushing is going to do anything for your bush head, Rosie."

Rosalinde's eyes narrowed angrily. "I told you not to call me that," she growled through clenched teeth. "I'm not a little girl anymore."

Elaine smirked, and leaned forward tauntingly. "Age is not all that makes a woman, Rosie."

"That does it!" Rosalinde shouted, throwing down the brush and grabbing a handful of her sister's tresses. "Take it back!"

"Girls!" their father cried, rising from his chair. "Both of you please act like grown women!"

"But father," Elaine said, turning to face him. "She won't let me finish fixing my hair."

"Father, she's been fixing her hair all morning. And did you hear what she called me?" Rosalinde cut in.

Clari rose silently from her chair. "I'm going outside," she said quietly.

No one paid her notice as she left the room, and slipped out the door to the garden. Peonies covered the ground, their faces upturned to the sun shining in the sky. Clari smiled and bent down, gently fingering the petals of the one at her feet. From here she could just barely hear the arguing of her elder sisters, and her father's attempts to calm them down.

She rose to her feet, and turned her own face to the sky, squinting at the brightness of the sun. The leaves of an elm tree just barely touched the roof at the corner of the house. Shades of red and orange were just beginning to streak the greenness of the leaves, and indication that fall was soon to come, and the days would become cooler.

Inside, her sisters were still arguing. She hated when they did, acting so childishly and only causing more grief for their father. Hadn't he dealt with enough the past several months? Was it not bad enough that not only should he lose his home and his wealth to the greedy men he had once called friends, but his two eldest daughters must fight like children? Rosalinde was right. Clari should not always be so submissive. Perhaps then she could stand up to her sisters, and speak her mind to them.

"Or perhaps I would only give my father more grief," she said to herself.

Clari heard the door slam behind her, and her father stood by her side, sighing and shaking his head mournfully. "I do not know what to do with them," he said.

Clari smiled at him. She always felt more at ease around her father than anyone else. "Don't worry," she said. "Soon Elaine will be married to Henry, and Rosalinde will no longer have anyone to fight with."

"Yes," her father agreed. He joined her in gazing at the sky. "I am blessed to have at least one quiet daughter," he said after a moment. "I do not know what I would do if you were as rambunctious as your sisters."

Clari giggled softly. "Perhaps you would go mad and pull out your own hair, and they would stick you in the asylum, and then where would we be?"

Her father chuckled as well, and patted her hair. "At this rate, that may happen anyway, or at the very least, we will lose what little money we have left and starve on the streets," he said.

Clari frowned. "Father, don't say such things," she said.

Her father sighed. "I'm sorry, Clari. You are right," he agreed. "We must think positively."

"When are you leaving?" Clari asked, turning to look at his worn face.

"Within the next half hour," he replied.

"Have you told Elaine and Rosalinde yet?"

"Not yet," he said. "I know what they will say, but I have no choice. At least you can understand."

Clari nodded. "I don't want you to go either," she said after a moment.

Her father turned to her, and smiled gently. "Don't worry. I will return before the eve is out, and come join you at your grand ball."

"It is not my ball, father," Clari said, turning away from him. Her eyes fell upon the woods just beyond their small cottage. They looked cheerful enough, yet what horrors lay within those woods? They all knew the stories, had heard them since birth.

"Let us go inside now," her father said. "I will need your strength to get through this conversation."

Clari nodded, and followed her father back into the cottage. Her sisters were no longer arguing, and now sat in opposite corners of the room, their backs turned to one another and fuming with anger.

"Girls," their father said, breaking the tense silence. "There is something we must talk about."

"If that girl is going to be in here, you may speak without me," Elaine said, casting a scornful glare at Rosalinde, who only stuck her tongue out.

"Girls, please. This is serious."

Elaine tossed her head and turned to him resentfully. "Fine," she said. "What it is it?"

"I must travel to Lowencast today, to sell the rest of our paintings and sculptures," he told them.

"Will you not attend the ball then?" Elaine asked, her eyes widening.

"Be quiet, Elaine," Rosalinde said. "Not everything is about silly balls you know."

"I only asked a question," Elaine snapped.

"Girls, please," their father said again, and the two girls turned obediently back to him. "I will be traveling through the forest, since that is the fastest way to the city."

Now it was Rosalinde's turn to be surprised. "The forest?" she cried. "But father! That is where—"

"That is where the Beast lives!" Elaine finished for her.

The man nodded gravely. "I know this, but I have no choice," he said. "I received a letter today, saying that I must repay the rest of my debt before the day's end, or they will take everything away from us. The forest is the quickest and only way I can travel there and still return in time."

"Surely there is some other way, father," Elaine said. "We don't have to go to the ball. We can sell our gowns and our jewelry. Won't that pay off the debt?"

Their father shook his head. "It will not be enough," he said. "This is something I must do, or we will all die of starvation."

"It isn't right, father," Rosalinde said. "Those dirty men cheated you. Why should you have to pay them?"

"I know it isn't right, but that's the way it is," their father said.

Elaine opened her mouth to protest, but Rosalinde spoke before she could. "Enough, Elaine," she said. "You heard what he says. He has no choice."

Elaine closed her mouth, and stood silently staring at the father.

Clari placed a hand on her father's shoulder. He turned his face to her, and she smiled encouragingly up at him. He patted her hand, then left the room, going into his bedroom. The three sisters stood in awkward silence, staring at the walls or the floor. Rosalinde was the first to break the silence.

"Well," she said, clapping her hands together and moving back to the mirror, "let's finish getting ready, shall we?"

Elaine silently took her seat in front of the mirror, but this time she did not touch the brush, but only stared at the cheap jewelry scattered across the small table.

After about ten minutes, their father returned, dressed in his traveling clothes and holding a sack carrying all the goods they had left. "Well, then. I must be on my way now," he said.

The girls followed him quietly out the door, their eyes downcast.

Their father turned to them, and smiled. "Now, now. Don't look so glum," he said. "I shall return this evening, and I'll even spare some money to bring you each a gift. Are there any requests?"

Elaine and Rosalinde shook their heads, but Clari thought about it for a moment, knowing her father wanted them to ask for something, that it would make him feel more like he really would return that night.

"A rose," she said at last.

Her father smiled. "I should have known you would ask for that," he said, and she smiled briefly in return. "Goodbye, then," he said.

"Goodbye, father," the girls murmured in reply.

Their father waved, then turned and walked into the woods.

A grim silence filled the cottage for the rest of the morning, for all three girls knew deep inside their father stood little chance of returning. They had all heard the stories of the cruel Beast, how he stole young women and kept them locked away in his castle, never to be seen again, and how he would capture anyone who came to near his castle, rip their limbs off and eat them raw. The town elders said he craved human flesh more than anything, and warned all to stay inside their houses after dark, lest the Beast's hunger get the better of him and he come looking for his prey.

Twenty minutes before the noon bell rang, the three girls left their cottage and walked to the grand house of Lady Marigold, the old heiress who lived in the center of town and hosted most of the village's balls and parties.

As they neared the mansion, Rosalinde tried once again to lighten the mood, attempting to appeal to Elaine's love for dancing and the fact that she would see Henry. Eventually, Elaine's mouth began to loosen, and she and Rosalinde were soon babbling on about the town's handsomest young men, and how Rosalinde hoped she would get to dance with James, Lady Marigold's nephew and the sole heir to her estate. All of the single young women were always surrounding him, making it difficult for anyone to get close, but Rosalinde was certain she could catch his attention.

Clari soon found herself walking ahead of her two sisters, for their talking slowed them down. Perhaps her sisters could forget that they might never see their father again, but she found it less easy. Her mother had died when she was not even four summers old. Ever since then, she had been close to her father, much closer than the other two. Her heart ached at the thought of losing him, and she wondered if she would possibly be able to enjoy the ball today. It would start at noon, and last well past midnight. She did not think she could bear it.

---

The once wealthy merchant trudged along the forest path. Sunlight streamed down brightly through the trees, and birds chirped amongst the branches. His step lightened as he walked on and his tension eased. This forest seemed not so bad. Perhaps the old wives' tales about the Beast and the forest being cursed were simply that, old wives' tales. After all, there had been no signs that the Beast really existed. Every now and again a young woman would disappear, but who was to say they weren't just silly girls running off to elope with some far off lover, knowing the stories of the forest would keep anyone from searching?

He soon found himself whistling cheerfully, and he felt certain that he would make it to Lowencast, sell his goods, and return with plenty of time and money to spare. After all, why else would the day be so beautiful if it was not a good omen?

As the woods thickened though, and the close grown branches of the trees cast eerie shadows on the ground, his doubts began to return. His whistling ceased, and he found himself growing anxious again, jumping at every sound or movement. By the time he realized the sounds of the birds chirping had ceased and the path he followed had faded into the dark woods, it was too late.

He turned around once, his eyes scanning the forest floor for the path, but it was nowhere to be found, and afterwards he could not even remember what direction he had been traveling in. The trees grew so thick and close now that he could barely see patches of the blue sky above, and he had no way of telling what direction he faced.

At last, since he could see no other alternative, he chose a direction and began walking. Briars slapped at his face and caught at his clothing, but he pushed onward, thinking only that the forest must end eventually, and trying not to remember the tales he had regarded as foolishness only moments ago.

He was just beginning to lose hope, when all of a sudden he stumbled once again upon the path, and the trees thinned somewhat, letting sunlight in once again. He breathed a sigh of relief, and began following the path. Before long, he caught sight of something which made his heart stop with fear.

A great castle loomed into the sky before him, surrounded by tall stone walls. He stood for a moment, paralyzed with fear, and stared at it, unsure of what to do. That was when he saw them. Roses. The most beautiful roses he had ever laid eyes upon. He would not have seen them at all, except that one was trailing the post of the gate he had not noticed before, its tendrils grasping the metal and its head just barely peeking over the top of the gate, as though it longed to escape but could not quite make it.

He walked up to the gate and paused before it, listening and looking for any signs of movement. He heard and saw nothing, and at last deemed it was safe. Knowing the foolishness of what he was about to do, he placed a hand cautiously upon the gate and pushed. To his surprise, it swung open willingly, revealing hundreds of the beautiful roses spreading across the castle grounds.

He stepped through the gate hesitantly, and paused, waiting for something to happen. Nothing did. He looked around once more before bending down and pulling his knife out of his boot. He would take one, only one. Surely it would not be missed among all of them. He doubted the owner would ever know it was gone. Opening the knife, he sliced through stem of one of the roses, and held it in his fingers, smiling. How Clari would love this.

"What are you doing?" a voice said behind him, startling him.

Frightfully, the merchant rose to his feet, and ever so slowly turned around. He expected to see a monster of some sorts, but instead only a young man stood behind him, nobly dressed, sleek blond hair hanging loose around his shoulders. He could not have been more than in his mid-twenties, and his face was clean and handsome.

"Sir, are you the lord of this castle?" the merchant asked.

"I am," the young man said. "What business have you—" The lord stopped, for at the moment his eyes fell upon the rose in the older man's hands.

When he looked back upon the merchant, his face was wrought with fury. "What have you done?" he cried. He grabbed the older man's throat, throwing him on the ground with surprising strength and pinning him there.

The rose fell from the merchant's hand, and he grasped at the young man's hand, trying desperately to relieve his choking grip. "Please," he gasped, "it was only for my daughter."

The young man seemed not to hear his words, and only clenched his hand tighter, completely cutting off the merchant's airway. "Do you think you can simply barge in here and take something that does not belong to you?" he yelled.

Angrily he released the older man, pushing him back several inches and wrenching the knife the merchant had dropped off the ground. His shoulders heaving, he pressed the blade against the man's throat. "I will kill you for what you have done," he growled.

The merchant latched onto the lord's arm, trying to pull away the knife. "Please," he gasped again. "If I do not return home tonight, my daughter's will perish. Please find some mercy in your heart, if not for me, then for them."

Some part of the fury in the lord's eyes died down, and he drew back the blade, allowing the man to sit up. Scrambling to his knees, the merchant threw his face on the ground. "Please," he begged, "allow me to go on my way and return to my daughters tonight, and I swear I will come back here tomorrow, and then you may do with me as you please."

The lord rose to his feet. For a moment, he watched the wind sway the roses in silence, then he turned back to the merchant. "You said the rose was for your daughter?" he asked.

The merchant sat up. "For my youngest," he said.

The lord stood silently for another moment. "You said your daughters would perish if you do not return," he said at last. "Why is that?"

Cautiously, the older man rose to his feet. The lord made no movement to oppose him. "I have gone into debt, everything I own cheated from me by men I once called friends. If I do not pay off the rest of my debt tonight, they will take away what little my family has left, and put us on the streets with no food or money," he said.

Again the lord said nothing, and then he bent down and carefully picked up the rose the merchant had dropped. He held it in his fingers a moment, gazing at it lovingly, and then held it out to the merchant. "Take this," he said. "Give it to your daughter. I will give you the money you need to pay off your debt, and enough to provide for your family the rest of their lives."

The merchant stared in disbelief at the lord. "Is this truth?"

"It is," the lord said. He turned to the older man. "I ask only one thing in return."

"Of course," the merchant said, forgetting for a moment everything but the thought of having money once again. "I will give you anything you want."

"Do you swear that on your life?" the lord asked quietly.

"Yes," the merchant replied eagerly.

"Tomorrow bring your youngest daughter here, and leave her with me," the lord said.

The merchant stepped back, his face a picture of shock. "M-my daughter?" he repeated.

"Yes. I ask only this in return for all I provide for you," the lord said.

"I cannot," the merchant replied. "I cannot give you my daughter."

"Then I can do nothing for you," the lord replied. He pointed to the gate. "Follow the path east. It will take you to the main road. These forests are enchanted, ever changing, there is no guarantee you will not lose your way and perish. There is little chance you will return safely."

The lord turned, and began to walk back toward his castle, but the merchant cried out after him. "Wait!" he said. The lord paused, but did not turn around. "I will bring you my daughter, but you must swear not to hurt her."

The lord turned around, looking upon the merchant with the eyes of sorrow. "I would never seek any harm upon your daughter. I swear to you on my very soul," he said.

The older man nodded, and the lord turned back to the castle. "Wait here," he told the merchant. "I will bring you what I promised."