In stories of old, the Beast was a spoiled prince. He was not born that way, but perhaps what if he had? What if he had never known the vanity that cursed him so? What if the Rose was not a flower, but a child whom saved the life of the Beast, as well as his Beauty's, and brought them many wonders? What if, what if? There are many tales that involve such people, and things. Each time has its Beast, its Beauty, and its Rose.
At least thats the way I know it to be.
Tales as old as ti...
"Daaaaaadddddy!" a voice called, startling Dais from his work. Setting down the pen, he looked out the window of his study to the yard. Just before the garden full of beautiful roses, stood the most beautiful one of all. Her white hair pulled in pigtails, white face smeared with dirt, Rose held something up for him to see.
"What is it darling?" he asked, squinting through the glasses that set on his face. One eye was gone, covered in a permanent eye patch, while the other had grown more handsome. The dark circles that lay under his face had gotten lighter, and a full diet had filled out the rest of his handsome face.
"Come seeeeee!" she yelled, smiling. Her little body jumped up and down, full of excitement as any other three year old would be. Smiling to himself, he got up from his chair, reaching for the cane that set beside him. Walking with a slight limp, he moved through the small cabin he had been living in for years. Passing from his study into the kitchen, he stood in the doorway of the deck.
Sitting in the wooden swing on the large and spacious back porch, Briar was watching their daughter as she read. One of Dais's novels sat on her lap, resting on the bulge of new life she had just started showing. Her blond hair, no longer cut into the wild style she had worn years ago, but still short and spiky was shading her face. On one hand rested a wedding ring, a perfect match to the one set about his own large black claw. Hearing the click on his feet on the wood, she looked up, smiling at her husband.
"Baby! Come here and sit with me." she patted the wood of the bench. He obeyed, limping across the porch to sit at her side. Briar stared at her husband for a moment, noting that his leg was acting up once more. Since his near death the day Rose was born, Dais had had to use the cane to move about. Adam's attacks had severely damaged the unique muscles in his legs, but Dais did not complain. Instead he seemed to be better once it happened. Smiles came easier, and he now joked more and more.
His injuries did not effect his life that much though. Dais had proven himself to be one hell of a good father, and his skill as a lover had not dropped on bit. Smiling, she rested on hand on his thigh. One of his hands came and rested on her stomach, patting the swell of it.
"This one will be a boy." Briar smiled at him, winking.
Dais swallowed slightly. "How do you know that?"
"I know because I know." she repeated the exact thing he had said to her. When he gave her an odd look, she waved at him passively. "Now is not the time to be doubting me Dais."
He nodded, looking at Rose. She was running about the large yard, being watched carefully by her adopted Grandmother, Bluue. The older woman sat on a bench further out in the yard, a green sundress wrapped about her. She was laughing, almost seeming years younger that she was. Rushing to them, Rose held up one grimy hand, all smiles. Her red eyes glowed with happiness as she showed her parents the frog that rested in her hands.
"Looookit! Lookit! I gots a fwog, and its jumpin eveywhere!" she giggled as it jumped from her hand once more. Using reflexes she inherited from her father, she snatched it from the air.
"Thats amazing baby." Briar cooed, patting her daughter on the head. Dais nodded, looking at his child with a large smile.
"Now, let it go little flower." he used the nickname he had been calling her since her birth. "It has a family to go home to."
Rose nodded, running off once more into the yard. Briar snuggled closer to her husband, one hand playing with the knot of dreadlocks at the back of his head. Of all the things he had changed over the years, from his clothes to his style, he refused to get rid of those dreads. Not that Briar was complaining. No matter what changes he went through, she would see him as the bare chested young man in the tattered cloak and torn pants.
"Have you ever seen anything more beautiful?" she asked, looking at the sky above their little home. Bluue had offered them a home in the cabin she bought, and they had taken on the offer. Briar had become a librarian in the small town below them. She wrote many things, trying to get back into her old habits. Just the month before she had published her first book.
Dais had become quiet successful in the world he once thought himself no part of. Now his novels sold in many stores, his name known by millions. Needless to say, they had both earned their keep. After retiring, Bluue had started selling some of Dais's potions and poultices to herbal companies. They sold out fast, everyone noting the power and skill that had gone into these things. Bluue took only some of the money, giving the rest to her family. Together they lived comfortably, and were set for the future.
"I have seen one thing more beautiful." he looked at Briar through his glasses.
She smacked him playfully. "What a load of cheese!" she laughed. "You are so corny love!"
He chuckled lightly. " Yet you love me still. Corniness can be forgiven, correct?"
She nodded. "I love you." she murmured to him, as she did every time she could. He responded, brushing a stray hair over her ear.
"I love you too darling." He bent down to her, and was about to kiss her, when Rose's voice pulled them apart once more.
"I gots anuuder one!" she yelled, calling them over. Sitting up, Briar stood slowly. Stretching her back, she put out a hand to her lover.
"Tale as old as time, correct?" she rolled her eyes, used to their daughter interrupting them at anytime.
He nodded, grabbing her hand. Tightly he held onto it, not willing to let go for anything. "Song as old as rhyme." With her leading him out into the yard, Dais smiled to himself.
Tale as old as time, song as old as rhyme. The story changes each time it is told, yet one thing remains the same. A beauty falls for a Beast, and a Rose is received.
At least, thats the way it should be.
~Dais De Beaumont.