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The Gentleman and The Beast

Written for @lonelyeyesweek

Day 3 - Fairytale

There is a castle with a rose garden the Beast has grown to despise. There is also the Gentleman who is not a Lady nor a Witch and he happens to stumble upon the place. Which is impossible, no one should be able to find it. Yet there he is, to the Beast's great displeasure. And he is offering to help

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...

The story starts innocently, as many stories for children start – there is enchanted castle and cursed garden and a terrifying creature living there. However, this is not your usual bedtime story for little kids. It can hardly be even called a fairytale. Let's not get ahead of ourselves though...

As has been said, the story starts with a castle in the woods. One could be tempted to call it a ruin as the building has seen better days, nature slowly claiming what once was hers. Weeds sprouting from the floors, bushes spreading all around, blocking doors, while wild ivy has taken upon itself to block the windows. Parts of the wall seem to be crumbling down altogether. But the Beast still thinks about the building as about the castle. Because they know it used to be one. Even though their memories of the better days of the building are fading as quickly as the plaster on those walls that are still standing, rotting away in their mind as surely as the wooden parquets are rotting under their feet.

You see, as it often is in fairytales, the Beast has not always been the Beast. The Beast does not clearly remember what or who they used to be. They do not remember how they turned to be the Beast, what exactly has happened - to them, to other possible residents of the place, to their memories, to the castle.

And frankly, they also do no care.

Here comes one of the few differences from the way fairytales usually go. The Beast does not suffer by solitude, nor are they bothered by their look nor their current existence in general. Their own past does not matter to the Beast. On the contrary, they are quite content. One might even say, they prefer their life like this! Afterall, they are left alone. Finally, no one annoys them. There is much less pressure on one when they look like a horrible monster from scary stories told to children to prevent them from wandering off too far in the woods.

The Beast is not sure how exactly they look – there is no mirror big enough to capture their entire frame. And even those few smaller ones in rusting frames are nto very helpful as they all seem to be broken. A brief glimpse of a jaw full of sharp teeth and pieces black fur here and grey scales there, that is all they can get from reflection in broken galls or still water. They do not mind though as they could not care less what they look like right now. Only thing they are interested in even less, is how they used to look when they were still human. If they ever really were human at all. As has been said, their memory, which probably was not the greatest to begin with, is starting to fail them a bit.

And so given all this informations, you might ask what this story is even supposed to be about? The Beast is perfectly happy as they are, are they not? There seems to be no issue that needs a resolution since the Beast is fine, happy even with their curse. (If they even really are cursed.)

And, well, that indeed would be the case.

If only it was not for the roses.

Those damned roses.

Yes, the Beast is not certain how exactly they have become the Beast. If one still assumes there used to be times, they were not the Beast… But no, there must have been some before because they remember the gardens. They used to be beautiful. Acres upon acres of beautiful flowery surrounding the castle. They were gorgeous and colourful and diverse. That is the only glimpse of the past they can remember clearly. (They assume it is because it is the only glimpse of the past they wanted to preserve.) But now? Now everything is consumed by roses. No one can tell there used to be any other flowers than in the past.

But they are just weak and fragile flowers, are they not? Yes, they have thorns but at the end of the day what are some colourful petals on a feeble stem against a powerful monster with sharp claws and teeth and thick fur and scales? The Beast is asking themselves every day the exact same question before they start to fight them. They should know better by now. It ends up every time exactly the same way. The roses are there taunting them by their full blossom and how hard it really can be to rip away at least one of them?

And so the Beast tries to tear them out and rip them apart and their efforts are in vain, as for every drop of their blood spilled, there seems to be a new one. Laughing at them with its existence. The Beast knows it is pointless battle and they keep failing again and again, and the fight has been lost countless times already but… but what if today is the day? What if…? They try again and again. The teeth sinking into the greenery, the claws attacking the ground trying to rip the plans out with its roots. And sometimes for a few seconds it almost seems like they can do it, that the stems of the flowers are about to break, that their roots cannot be that deep… And the Beast puts in more and more strength and nothing is still happening. And… are there more of them again? Have they always been so tall and their thorns so sharp?

Anyhow. As it surprises probably no one but the Beast – today is not that day. It is just another day they in defeat end up licking their wounds back at the ruins of the castle, bleeding from cuts from those damn roses. The gardens they remember have no roses in them. Why are the flowers there? What has happened to all the other flowers?

“Were you trying to rip out the roses again?”

Ah, do you still remember those statements about how the Beast is being left alone, in happy solitude, with no one annoying them? Well, that one might be not entirely true as well.

The Gentleman enters the room. His hair has the colour of forest in the autumn, his eyes are cold like cloudy sky and his skin is decorated with freckles as stars decorate the night horizon. The fact that he must be a proper Gentleman, can be easily deduced from the fancy and sumptuous clothing (from the little the Beast knows about clothing). Another secret that one could figure by the clothes is that the Gentleman must have been living there for a while. His green coat is a bit tattered, waistcoat and shirt wrinkled, the pants and boots are dirty and stocking has tears in them (not that the Beast has to be guessing this – they are painfully aware of the Gentleman’s presence.)

The Gentleman does not seem to fit in this story at all. Maybe only as a victim the Beast might have abducted. This assumption would be, of course, wrong. As it has already been said, the Beast very much enjoys their peaceful loneliness. They would wish for nothing more than to get the Gentleman as far from their castle as possible.

“Let me look at it.”

The Beast says nothing. They know how to speak. The man knows they know how to speak as well. They still prefer being silent most of the time. It is not as if their unwelcomed guest has actually needed an answer. He always acts as he pleases, disregarding wishes of the Beast. Wishes such as for him to leave, to leave their castle, to leave the Beast. Leave them alone in their happy solitude and never-ending fights with greenery.

The Gentleman steps closer to the Beast, to the new wounds in their skin form their pointless battle. Closer to their sharp claws and pointy teeth and rough fur and spiky scales. And why is he not afraid? It would be so easy for the Beast to crush the man. Tear him to pieces. He is not out of unbeatable flora like those rose bushes are, he is made out of soft flesh. They should do it just for his cocky confidence, daring to approach them like this!

“You should know it is futile by now, Peter. There is something wrong with them. They are cursed. You cannot just rip them out. How dense are you? Why are you still trying?”

He keeps calling them Peter. He claims it might be their name. He was giving them a lengthy explanation how he came to that conclusion involving some portraits and chronicles he found and destroyed rooms he examined. They could not care less. They have no need for a company nor a name.

“Wait here. I will get some water and bandages. I am really starting to run out of spare sheets, you know?”

No one asked him to tend to their wounds. Not now, not ever. The Beast is tempted to remind him that but then they would need to break their stubborn silence.

“I know you hate roses. Not that you have ever bothered to elaborate on why exactly… What crime have those flowers committed? Because I find it hard to believe, it is worth your reckless attempts to fight them. Especially since they seem to flourish more every day whereas you are the one left with bleeding wounds.”

The Beast knows this. They know that those roses grow more with every drop of their blood falling upon them. And they are not sure they mean it just figuratively. Bloodthirsty flowers driving them mad.

“Well? Nothing to say in your defence?”

The Beast knows how much the man hates the silence. How desperate he is to talk with them, to fill the silence with the sound of his own voice. They do not want to give him the desired conversation but the man seems to be way too happy to just argue with them on any given occasion anyways. They should stand their ground and not give him the satisfaction of response. However even more than the noise he makes, the Beast hates to be scolded and talked down to. The Gentleman needs to be reminded of his place. (It is all partly his fault anyway!)

“You promised you'd get rid of them. They are still there!“ they growl. And the Gentleman rolls his eyes and the Beast gets angry that they bothered to say anything. They always promise themselves not to speak another syllable to him unless they are planning for their words to be the last thing the Gentleman ever hears. They can never manage to keep the promise, annoying persistence of the Gentleman somehow always breaks them.

It would probably be appropriate to give you an explanation on how exactly the strange Gentleman came into the picture. However, as it was stated before, the Beast does not care about the Gentleman nor about his story. They do not really care how it happened that he has decided to disrupt his solitude and invite himself to his residence. They only care how to make him leave. Because they do not believe he can keep his promise to get rid of the roses anyway.

“I’ve already told you I could possibly destroy them in a few days if you allow me to use fire,” the Gentleman scoffs, approaching them with water and sheets.

“No fire!” The Beast howls mildly ashamed that they let a sign of fear creep in their voice.

“Then be patient.”

The Gentleman kneels next to him with a bucket of water and his improvised bandages made out of old bed sheets. He starts carefully washing the wound with a spare piece of cloth. His hands are soft. Fingers long, thin and moving skilfully. How small and fragile he looks next to them and yet he has no decency to be afraid. On the contrary when he raises his head and their eyes accidentally meet he gives them a scolding look. That is too much.

“You don’t need to do this. I was fine before,” they pull away, bumping into the bucket. A bit of water spills.

“I call it a small miracle to be honest,” the Gentleman seems unimpressed. He lets the wet cloth fall on the ground and picks up the sheets. “Let me just help you.”

“I don’t want you to!” The Beast snarls showing their teeth. They enjoy the sparkle of panic that appears on the Gentleman’s face. Instincts winning over his rational mind for a second. He gains his composure back quickly. Quicker than the Best would like.

“You don’t want me to? You don’t want me to what?” he steps closer, curling one hand on his chest. Bucket also gets into his way, but again somehow it gains stability, “To be here? To talk to you? To acknowledge you? To help you with those damned roses?”

“I could deal with them alone. Eventually. It is better than have you here disturbing my peace and-”

“Yes, yes, you don’t like me and you want to be left alone in your home. You’ve told me that plenty of times. And trust me, I would love to grant you your wish. I don’t like this ruin; I want to return back to society and to my friends. Neither of us is happy in this situation,” the Gentleman pauses when he realises how aggravated he has gotten. He takes a deep breath and there is a sparkle of something (excitement? ambition?) in his eyes, “ But! And here comes the important part – but we can both benefit from it in the long run. I need a place to stay for a bit and I need your books. And you need someone who will be more effective in disposing of the roses.”

The Gentleman looks at them in expectation. And the Beast knows and hates that he is right. They do hate those roses enough that they would be willing to let someone remain and stay here. But! But why does it take him so long? They are starting to doubt, despite his bold words and promises, that he will be able to do it. They turn away and growl. He looks annoyed, good. Mumbling something, he drops the sheets and turns around. Finally leaving them alone. Their eyes slide towards the bandages. Maybe they should let him wrap them around their wounds first…

No! No, enough with this nonsense. They are fine, they have always been fine! They angrily crush the bucket with one of their claws. The water spills on the decaying parquet floor. The weeds finding its way through them appreciate the sudden watering.

They might kill him. They have not made up their mind yet. Of course, they will do so only after he will get them rid of the roses. If he is even able to, of course… Yes, they might decide to kill him sooner if he keeps annoying them like this. It would be satisfying to finally successfully crush something and spilling other blood then their own. They find comfort in the thoughts of the Gentleman's demise as they lick their untended wounds.

…

Let's leave the Beast to be the Beast and look closer at the Gentleman. One might assume this story will seem more like a fairytale if it was told from his point of view. One would be wrong. Because his story is even less of a fairytale than the Beast’s one.

There is a castle in the woods. Well, not a castle exactly, it is a mansion at best. And it has fallen to ruins. However, the building itself nor the state of it were exactly the Gentleman’s greatest concerns at the moment he found it. At that point he was simply grateful for a shelter. (The complaints about it came later).

The Gentleman who is neither a Lady nor a Witch has happened to stumble upon it by accident when he was being chased away by a crowd of people who have not shared many of his worldview’s ideas or general opinion regarding lots of aspects of his life.

Ah, well, what can one expect from silly simple villagers whose minds and opinions are ruled by myths and stories instead of science and reason. Though as much as the Gentleman wishes to dismiss every witless thing they have ever said and believed, they might have been right about few of them after all. Not about him, what and who he should be, of course! But the story told to children about a mindless monstrous beast seeking people to feed on living deep inside the forest seems to be somewhat based on truth.

As it always is, they have gotten quite a few things wrong. First of all, even though the Gentleman would probably not consider the Beast to be his intellectual equal, he was still able to have much more pleasant conversation with him than with the majority of the people from his hometown. Which is really saying something of the character of the people from the place he has come from, considering the fact that the Beast is perpetually annoyed and unwilling conversational partner with a very limited amount of topics he is willing to converse with him about.

Second of all, the Beast is not really hunting down any people. On the contrary, he does his best to avoid any human interaction at all. Or, well, that is what the Gentleman choses to believe over the option that the Beast is choosing to avoid only him specifically.

And third of all, yes, the Beast could be quite terrifying in his rageful attacks. However so far he has witnessed them to be aimed only against rose bushes surrounding the mansion.

Overall, the reality of fairytales about the evil Beast in the dark forest are quite disappointing in regards of his danger and ruthlessness.

Nevertheless, a much more interesting fairytale – often told with the first one – is about dark magic. Oh yes, as Gentleman has learnt upon examining every room in these ruins, magic indeed is real. And can be leant. The library is full of dark complicated books telling him so at least. As a man of academia, naturally, his first action upon learning so, is to break every seal to get to all the dark secrets the old dusty pages are hiding. He has not entirely gotten a grasp on how magic can exist and be possible. However, he is starting to get a grasp on how to perform it.

As the Gentleman made quite clear he certainly is not a Lady. And he will never be one. Neither is he a Witch. Not yet . But that might change really soon. He is working on it.

He will make them all regret. The people scroning at him and judging him and pitying him. And those who have never met him but would do so given the chance as well. He will make all of the world respect him and fear him. They were all so insistent that he is a witch? He will become one then. And show them that their action has consequences. (And really who could possibly be as stupid as to try to run off a witch with torches and pitchforks as any of those things could really stop a powerful being controlling magic.)

He will show them all!

But not to get ahead of himself. First, he has to properly learn magic. And after that, well… he supposes that after that he should get rid of those damn roses as he might have ambitiously promised and as his impatient host keeps demanding. It will be a good training of his newly gained skills. As soon as he gains those said skills of course. Who would have guessed one cannot master magic overnight?

Unlike the Beast he has a name. Or to be more exact, he used to have one. But he did not really like it. It did not really suit him as many things did not in the life he used to have, life he lived before he came to this place. And so it is not really important to state said name as it is not relevant anymore. He will figure out a new one. Better one, more fitting for him. It is not his priority right now as there is no one who would call him by said name anyway.

And talking about names, the Gentleman is certain the Beast used to have a name too. He might have even been a human in the past. An inhabitant of this house probably, as Beast keeps from time to time talking about a past where there were no roses, just beautiful gardens full of blooming flowers. The Gentleman could not care less about the flowers. The Beast on the other hand naturally piqued his interest. He must be old. No, not old. Stuck in time. He does not seem to be bothered by it. By either his current form, nor his inability to perform certain things due to it, nor by his seclusion here. The only thing bothering him are those roses and, well, since recently, the Gentleman’s presence as well. There must be some very interesting story behind his unwilling host and his appearance and the magic books lying in the library. He hopes he will learn it one day. Though it is quite unlikely that it will be any time soon.

The Gentleman is interrupted from his musing over books and his studies by sudden sound of gentle yet heavy steps on decrepit carpet. He turns around to see a tall shadow looming from behind bookshelves near the door. The Gentleman is sitting in a chair in a corner of the library, his favourite place here. The books and notes scattered everywhere around him, thoughts a bit unfocused and in a similar state of disarray, as he might have forgotten yet again he needs to sleep from time to time.

“You are surprisingly stealthy for a three metres tall monster, unfortunately you still are a three-metre-tall monster so I have noticed your presence.”

The Beast lets own quiet growl. He stares at him with his dark eye of a predator who shows no sign that an intelligent mind might be hiding behind them. It still unsettles the Gentleman but over the months staying here, he has gotten used to his strange behaviour and this is far from the most alarming of his habits. He suspects that he does it on purpose. He wants him to be unsettled which is the reason why he cannot give him such satisfaction.

At the end of the day many threats are spoken from the Beast's mouth regularly but none of them is ever acted upon.

“Is there something bothering you or have you just missed my company that much, Peter?” The Beast keeps measuring him silently. Honestly, he does not really know if that is really the name of the person that has become the Beast. But it always bothers him when he calls him that and so he keeps doing so. Maybe it is a bit unwise to tease a powerful scary creature when he is still so powerless and weak but what other joys has his life to offer right now?

His theory regarding the past identity of the Beast is based on the silliest things. Some rich family used to live here – even though the mansion is partly in ruin one might not be afraid to call it a castle. The rooms and remains of furniture and clothes says so much. There are even portraits and names underneath them as well as on entrance to certain rooms. The one which used to belong to someone named Peter seems to be especially in a state of destruction, not by time but by deliberate effort of someone or something. Same can be said about portraits barring said name…

Though it is perfectly possible that this was never the home of the Beast when they still used to be human. It is possible that the Beast never was a human. Whoever used to live here possessed magic. It might all be a spell gone wrong, it might have been a deliberate curse, it might have been summoning. But it is simply easier to hope and to pretend that the being whose home he decided to invade is somewhat humanlike inside and therefore giving it…? …them? …him? a name is a good start in enforcing the idea.

“I see, just unnerving staring it is today. It is hard to work under your gaze, you know?”

The Beast still does not speak and it is no surprise, he likes to do that - giving him silent treatment. As if he hoped that the silence would draw him away. That if he will ignore him long enough, the Gentleman will leave him alone. It is just the Beast’s wishful thinking. The Gentleman has no place to go. If he had any other options he would not be here, he would not willingly choose the Beast as his cohabitant. It will take much more than a few threats and uncomfortable looks to get him to leave.

“Shall I read you something?”

What tragic life. Being surrounded by so many powerful books yet unable to read any. Peter does not seem to be bothered by it nor really interested in reading in general. Or so the Gentleman thought at first. And of course the Beast never really asked him to read him anything. But after one argument regarding the Beast’s origin and how curses and magic works in a desperate attempt to make a point and make him listen, the Gentleman brought him a book with a silly fairytale and read it to him. They did not really end up agreeing but at the moment he read to him aloud Peter got strangely peaceful, strangely captivated by what was just a silly children’s fairytale. (Of course, when Gentleman pointed that out he denied it and left.)

“I don't care. I do not need a reason to wander through my own home,” the Beast says with a surprisingly soft and quiet voice. He always speaks like that as if he is scared from hearing himself speak.

“As you wish then. Hope you will not mind too much if I happen to read some story out loud then.” The Gentleman reaches for the worn-out book of fairy tales he keeps close in case the Beast decides to interrupt his studies.

“I told you I don’t want that!” Peter growls. It is a scary sound coming right from his throat. It used to terrify him but he slowly grew accustomed to it as all Peter does is giving him empty threats.

“Do as you wish. I am intending to do so whether you will stay or not. No one is forcing you to listen to it.” Gentleman suppresses a smile and opens the book on the page he read last time before Beast fell asleep listening to him. And the Beast reluctantly stays and listens. He tries to pretend not to care but he soon forgets himself, clearly hanging on every word coming from the Gentleman’s mouth, curiosity filling his big dark monstrous eyes in such a human-like… child-like expression.

And yes, the Gentleman finds the Beast fascinating and of course he tries to stay on civil terms with him... However, it is important to note that Gentleman has no concrete fondness for his host. He might kill him. He has not made up his mind yet. Right now, he is useful.

One might have a dilemma over the fact that if the Beast used to be a person, killing him might equal to taking a human life. The Gentleman naturally does not have the dilemma as he is already planning to kill a lot of people once he masters the magic. Or maybe do something even worse. Completely excusable though, at least in his eyes. He refused to perform the part of a Lady they gave him but a Witch, that he can do. He will see. The point is that from all the humans he has met the Beast has been the one that treated him the most decently. And he is truly a miserable host.

So really he will have to give it some more consideration. If he will kill the Beast or not…

It should be said that this is not the beginning of the story of the Beast and the Gentleman. The story began a long time ago when the Beast might have been a human and when the Gentleman might have still been trying to play an unfitting role given to him by society.

It should be said that this uncanny fairytale is nowhere near to its end. No, their story is far from over. It has just begun getting to the good part. There is a lot to happen before you might try to draw some conclusions, before you will be able to decide what kind of story it even is.

Romance?

Certainly not.

Horror?

Possibly.

Tragedy?

That might be it… How could it not, when they both are full of pride with only their own interest in their heart? It is unlikely they could ever become friends. Such things could only happen in fairytales. They could find their happy ending only in fairytale. And if it is not clear enough yet – this is not a fairytale..

#day 3 #fanfic #lonelyeyesweek2024

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