Chapter Text
A long time ago there lived a king in a shining castle. He ruled over a vast and glorious kingdom with people who both loved and feared him, for while the king kept his lands safe he was unspeakably cruel and unjust.
With this terrible unkindness came about a son, a prince who, while at first as gentle and kind as princes should be, he became wretched under the hand of his vile father.
The king tortured his boy with emotional and physical violence, casting the boy into a deep and dark era of inner conflict. However, this would soon come to an end.
In time, the king died, and the young prince came to the throne.
His people held such great hope, their wishes for their new king profound and loving. Yet the young king had never recovered from his father’s abuse, and despite his best attempts he was very much like his father, even if it was in different ways.
While the castle and kingdom flourished under the new king’s care the hearts of the people became wilted and barren of hope, causing deep dismay to all who entered the realm.
It was in this way that the enchantress came to the castle. She had heard of the wickedness of the king, and how he treated his people and servants. She had a mind, and means, to stop it.
But, she described herself in the form of a young girl, dark eyes large and bruised, hair shorn, and wrapped in filthy clothing. She went to the castle, knocking upon the door, and being led inside by a kind plump woman.
While the two went down the halls they were stopped by none other than the king. He demanded to know who this young street urchin was, and why she had been allowed inside his gilded home.
Upon the answer of the woman the king roared in anger that the girl be shunned from the castle, and that the woman be taught a lesson about letting just anyone into these halls.
This display of unnecessary cruelness was enough for the disguised enchantress.
She shed her young skin and threw aside the filthy rags to show her proper form, eyes still dark, but beautiful hair curling from her previously barren scalp, and her feet rising above the ground with her power.
She told the king who she really was as he looked on in disbelief, and she told him that his unkindness would have to be dealt with. She punished him.
First she waved a hand and all of the people, except from she and the king, vanished from the castle, their memories of the place and the king erased.
Then, she swept forward and touched a hand to the king’s forehead, sending him writhing to the ground as his limbs twisted and his hands grew into claws. He was a beastly thing now, reflecting his inner nature.
With that, she withdrew a red rose from her robes, the flower beautiful beyond belief, and looking far too delicate to endure any torture.
When the rose bleeds red, the enchantress said to the crying king, you will turn back into a human. Until then, you may think upon all that you have done, and all that you can do.
And with that, she vanished, leaving only the rose, and the degraded new beast behind.
The king was now alone in his castle, which was now a prison. His servants had disappeared, gone to live in a village where they knew nothing of kings and their troubles.
No one was any the wiser to the plight of a beast.
The day was already blooming hot as Steve stepped outside of the front door of the modest cottage that he lived in.
He took a moment to breathe in the fresh air that surrounded him before he grasped hold of the basket on his arm and started off down the worn path that led into the village.
For many years now Steve had lived here, his old life in the city forgotten with his deceased parents, his new family being the Hendersons, a kindly woman and her son, Dustin, who had taken Steve in when he had been wandering about, with no where to go.
Steve was eternally grateful to the two, and he never complained about the work they put him to on their small farm, not even when he had to wake up too early on market day. Like today.
The sun had barely risen and already the town was bustling. Merchants and craftsmen called out their wares and trades from large caravans while bakers and farmers congregated to the square to sell their products. The sweet smell of apples and sweet bread filled the air while laughing children milled about between their elders legs, accompanying dogs scurrying behind them, tripping people as they went.
Despite the early luxury in his life Steve loved the actions around him, and he found a smile settling on his face as he went about, making his rounds. Two loaves from the baker, five candles from the trader, and six apples from the farmer.
His day was going along well, and he indulged himself by stopping at the merchant’s caravan, looking with happy wonder at the wonderful books that were stacked too high, the colorful fabric and small stashed of silk, the tinkering children’s toys, and…oh, Steve had never seen something like that before. He stepped closer to get a closer look at the object that had caught his eye. It was a gorgeous red rose, made from delicately twisted metal and colored pieces of glass. Its twining stem led down to be cradled by a platform that had a small painted picture of a castle.
“Ah, something catch your eye, young man?” Steve looked up to find the merchant staring down at him from within his caravan, a twinkle in his eye.
“Oh,” Steve stammered, backing up a bit, “Well, yes. I was just admiring the rose, it’s beautiful.”
The merchant grinned, “Ah, yes. The rose. A mechanical trinket I bought from a woman I met a long time back. She said that there was a story that went along with the rose…” the man squinted his eyes, as if trying to remember the tale, “Something about a rose, and how it had cursed a king. It was all very mystical, and I didn’t pay much attention. I was much too eager to have the rose.”
Steve furrowed his brow, “Why sell it then, if you wanted it so badly?”
The man chuckled, “Oh now, I can’t be keeping my merchandise now, can I? But I’ll tell you, I’ll sell it to you, with a discount for showing such interest in the lovely thing.”
“Lovely? Hah! It is nothing compared to Steve here!” The sudden call came from behind Steve, and he whirled around, heart in his throat, to find Tommy standing there.
He had once been friends with Tommy. When Steve had first come to the village he had been desperate for friends, and he had found himself caught within the midst of the most persuasive boy in the town. He somehow had the adoration of the entire village (barring the Hendersons), and thought that he could do whatever he wanted.
After a while this attitude deterred Steve, and he stopped his friendship with the boy, for the most part. However, during their time together Tommy had developed a sort of infatuation with Steve, one that he could not shake.
Steve thought that it was mostly because he would do whatever Tommy wanted, but the other boy claimed it was because of Steve’s beauty and personality. Steve highly doubted it.
“Tommy,” he said through his teeth as he smiled falsely, “I didn’t see you there. How are you?”
The boy ignored the question, “This rose, do you desire it my dear Steve?”
Steve felt the urge to groan in irritation. “I was merely looking at it,” he said, not wanting the boy to know his urge to have it and buy it for him. As well as being beloved, Tommy was also rich. And Steve did not want to have to accept a gift from him and be in his debt. Though, accepting gifts shouldn’t have to mean that he owed the giver anything.
“If you want it, you need only tell me.” Tommy said, edging closer, a startling smile on his lips as his eyes remained dark, “I would give you anything if you were only mine, sweet Steve.”
The merchant made a gagging noise, and Steve had to agree. But, he said, “I’m fine. Thank you. But, I really have to go. Sorry.” He wasn’t sorry. At all.
He turned to the merchant, avoiding Tommy’s coveting look, “Sorry to have wasted your time,” he said with real remorse, “But thank you for the story, and for letting me look at the rose. It really is beautiful.”
The merchant grinned at him, “You’re most welcome. And thank you. The rose is very nice, but beauty is not everything. Sometimes, the true beauty lies within.”
Tommy scoffed behind him, but Steve managed a smile before he turned to walk away, trying not to notice when Tommy began to follow him through the market square.
They were beyond the crowd before Tommy made a move, grabbing hold of Steve’s arm and steering him into a thicket of trees, his face now void of any smiles.
“Why do you run away from me,” he demanded, “You know how I want to speak to you.”
Yes. Like Steve was a slave, made to do his bidding. “I’m busy,” Steve said instead, his teeth clenched as he fought to hide his glare.
Tommy’s lips quirked into a grin. A not very nice grin. “You know Steve,” he said his name with a purr, which made Steve shudder, “If you agreed to be mine you would never be busy again. I mean, not unless you were busy with me.” He leered at Steve then, and the other boy felt the urge to vomit.
“We’ve gone over this,” Steve said, yanking his hand from the steely grip, all pretenses of a friendly air gone now, “I don’t want to marry you, or whatever it is that you’re proposing. It makes me sick to even think about you in that way. I never want that. Ever!”
Tommy’s face turned cold and dark then, “You don’t want me?” He repeated, “Need I remind you, Steve, that no one else in this town will have you. You’re an outsider. One who could never be part of our world. I’m the only one that wants you. The only one that will ever want you!”
Steve nearly snarled, “Well, there is one good thing in all of this,” he said slowly and smoothly, “I, at least, have one suitor. While you have no one that will ever want you!”
With that he turned on his heel ran deeper into the trees, his breath catching in his throat as Tommy’s words sunk in deep and marked him forever.
Steve knew that he was mainly unwanted. Mrs. Henderson and Dustin only took him in because they felt sorry for him. They would never be concerned with Steve’s coming or going. It was just life.
Even after his parents had died no one had wanted Steve. His other relatives came to their big house and took away all of their possessions, but not one of them had volunteered to take Steve and lead him to safety.
So caught up in his own depressing thoughts Steve did not notice where he was running to until his foot caught on a root and he fell, his hands scraping across the ground, and his breath escaping him upon the pain.
When he managed to pull himself up he looked around, realizing that he had no idea where he was. This part of the woods was unfamiliar, and there were no paths or road markers anywhere in sight.
Biting the inside of his cheek Steve stood with wobbly legs and turned himself around, attempting to right his path. But the woods were tricky. Before long Steve had concluded that he was lost, and that there was no way to tell where he was.
He was tired and hungry, having skipped breakfast, and it was with a guilt conscience that he ate one of the apples from the market within the basket.
After that he marched on, trying not to panic as he watched the sun sink lower and lower across the sky, before, in the last vestiges of the light, Steve saw it.
In the middle of nowhere a spire rose from the trees, making Steve frown. But, it also made him curious. Determined, he followed the image of the spire until he found the enormous gate that also rose from the ground.
The gate was rusted, old meal with depictions of vines and leaves, a crest that had long since faded sealing the gates closed. Steve paid this no mind as he grasped onto the bars and squinted, looking deeper in the oncoming dark.
Beyond the gate was a castle, dilapidated stone carving its way into the forest, shouldering itself towards the sky. It was amazing, like something out of a story.
Steve licked his lips, wondering how he had found this place, and how no one else ever had before him, before he pushed gently on the gate, mystified when it opened creakily, and he slipped inside of it and onto the castle grounds.
The castle was more intimidating up close, but that did not stop Steve from going up to it, his eyes taking in every turret and gargoyle, every crumbling window and broken stone.
It would be impossible to enter such a place, he thought as he came to the huge front doors, which was beheld by two large empty braziers, and two stone dragons. Yet, as he pressed a hand to the doors to feel the weathered wood they opened, as if beckoning him inside.
Despite knowing that this was a bad idea Steve took a deep breath and went inside.