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Description
Somehow or other, Beau managed to get the princess onto Philippe’s back, then back to the castle, out of the cold, and into her armchair by the fire. Mrs. Potts was very helpful in procuring the necessary hot water and clean bandages. Dipping one of the rags in the water, Beau turned to discover that the beast had taken the liberty to begin licking the wounds herself.

“Ew, don’t do that!” Beau reached over with his rag, but the princess shied away with a growl. The servants edged back, but Beau was unmoved by the threat. There was a struggle; she kept dodging him as he reached for her injured arm. “Just hold still a minute.”

The rag made contact. The beast let out a roar of pain, sending her servants scuttling for cover. “That hurts!” she yelled.

Once again, Beau remained stern. “If you’d hold still, it wouldn’t hurt as much.”

“If you hadn’t run away, this would never have happened!” snapped the beast.

“Well, if you hadn’t nearly ripped my head off, I wouldn’t have run away!” retorted Beau.

“Well, you shouldn’t have been in the west wing!”

“Well, you should learn to control your temper.”

That ended the argument. The princess snorted sulkily, slouching a little. Beau readied the towel. “I’ll be as gentle as I can, but this might sting a little.”

The beast winced pointedly, but said nothing. Beau dabbed at the bite, then added, “By the way, thank you for saving my life.”

The princess glanced up, her eyes softening a little. “You’re welcome.”

Their eyes met, lingering for a moment. Mrs. Potts cleared her throat. “Well, Highness, it seems you’re all right now, so we’ll just be off.” She nudged pointedly at Lumière and Cogsworth, motioning at the door. Taking the hint, the two shuffled after her.

“Why did you do that, anyway?” Beau asked once they were alone. “I mean, you could have been killed.”

The princess snorted. “As if that mattered.”

“Of course it matters,” said Beau. “You’re a person.”

None of the bites were very deep, and only half had managed to tear the skin through the thick fur. As he wiped clumps of dried blood from the fur, Beau noticed something else; several pale scars ran along the underside of the beast’s wrist and arm, where the hair was thinner. Frowning curiously, he asked, “These aren’t from the wolves. Where’d you get those?”

The beast pulled her arm close to her, a little too quickly. “That’s—ouch—none of your business.”

Gently, Beau lifted the other arm, this time looking more closely. The same thing was to be found on that side, too. The scratches were very straight; too straight to be anything accidental. They looked as if they had happened abruptly, suddenly, and savagely; possibly from the work of a knife, or even a piece of broken glass.

Beau leaned forward, gazing intently into the beast’s face. “Hey.”

She turned away, refusing to meet his gaze. Beau gave her paw a gentle squeeze. “What’s wrong?”

The princess barked a loud, scornful laugh. “What’s wrong? Oh, nothing much; I’m just a huge, terrifying monster, that’s all. What on earth could be the matter with that!?” Her voice rose as she spoke, rumbling with the tremors of an oncoming growl. She nearly stood up in her chair, then retreated when she saw him flinch. Clenching her jaw, she purposefully willed the threatening tears not to come. “See what I mean?”

“You’re not a monster,” Beau assured, leaning closer. “You’re angry and upset; and I get that. I heard about what happened and I’m really sorry.”

He’d been half worried that she might blow up again, but she merely grunted, “It’s not you who should be sorry.”

They were silent again for a few more minutes. Presently, a new thought struck Beau’s mind. “Hey, I don’t even know your name; or do I just call you ‘your Highness’?”

The princess glanced up. “No, that’s okay. It’s Rosalynn, if you must know.”

This seemed a good start, so Beau tried another gesture of friendship. “Do you want a nickname or anything? How about Rosa, or Rose?”

“Lynn, thank you,” said the princess sharply, but repeated more gently, “Just Lynn is fine.”

Beau gave her an encouraging smile. “All right, Lynn it is.”

Lynn flexed her fingers as Beau carefully dressed her arm, wrapping the bandage securely around it. “So, what do they call you?”

“Me? I’m just Beau,” Beau replied. “No title or anything.”

“That’s okay,” said Lynn, with just a hint of a half-smile. It was the first genuine smile she’d given in a long time. “It’s probably better that way.”

Beau rose to his feet. “Right, well, just leave that on for a while. If you’re comfortable and all, I’ll say goodnight.” He turned towards the door.

“No, wait, please!” There was an edge of desperation in her voice as Lynn reached out, grabbing at his arm. Instinctively, she recoiled at the same moment, half afraid to touch him for fear of grasping too hard. Her claws had left marks before.

Beau halted. “What is it?”

“I…” Lynn hesitated, not wanting to sound pathetic. In all honest truth, she dreaded being alone with herself, yet was loath to be among others. “I don’t… don’t know, uh, your story.”

Beau sat down again. “There’s really not much to tell. I only live a few miles from here; my father’s an inventor, I was starting work at a library, and my two brothers—”

“You have brothers?” interrupted Lynn, intrigued.

So, Beau told her about his home life until recently; all about the Great Invention, the town library, and the basic living standards of Pauvreville. Lynn listened eagerly, until he mentioned the name of Georgiana.

At this, the princess stiffened. “Who’s that?”

“Just this girl I know,” answered Beau.

Half afraid to know, Lynn ventured, “Is she pretty?”

“Oh, she’s pretty, all right,” said Beau, shaking his head. “And rude and conceited and very, very clingy. She’s not for me; really not my type.”

Lynn relaxed a good deal. “Oh.”

“But enough about me,” said Beau. “What about you? What’s your story?”

Lynn shrugged, dropping her eyes. “Not much to tell, really. I was enchanted, and it’s been pretty much the same ever since.”

“I meant, what was it like before that?” he clarified. “What about your family? What happened to your parents?”

Again, she shrugged. “What do you think happened?”

Wrong subject. “I-I’m so sorry, I wasn’t thinking—”

“It’s fine,” she assured him. “I don’t even remember them; I was, like, two.”

There was a rather awkward pause. Beau bit his lip, wondering how to rectify his mistake. With slight misgivings, he pressed on. “Um, h-how did you survive?”

“Beats me,” she replied. “I have my own castle, out near the end of nowhere, so I guess I just got missed.”

Beau pondered this a minute. “So, do you think this curse, or whatever, may have actually been a good thing? I mean,” he continued hastily, “not that it was good that you got enchanted and all, but that you stayed isolated and out of the way?”

This took Lynn rather aback, but she said only, “I guess so; I never really thought of that as a good thing or a bad thing.”

“Well, I showed up, didn’t I?”

The princess started a little, slowly raising her gaze to meet his. It was sincere.

“So, for now,” he went on, “I would consider it at least sort of a good thing.”

Her eyes never left him. “Fair enough.”

Description
Somehow or other, Beau managed to get the princess onto Philippe’s back, then back to the castle, out of the cold, and into her armchair by the fire. Mrs. Potts was very helpful in procuring the necessary hot water and clean bandages. Dipping one of the rags in the water, Beau turned to discover that the beast had taken the liberty to begin licking the wounds herself.

“Ew, don’t do that!” Beau reached over with his rag, but the princess shied away with a growl. The servants edged back, but Beau was unmoved by the threat. There was a struggle; she kept dodging him as he reached for her injured arm. “Just hold still a minute.”

The rag made contact. The beast let out a roar of pain, sending her servants scuttling for cover. “That hurts!” she yelled.

Once again, Beau remained stern. “If you’d hold still, it wouldn’t hurt as much.”

“If you hadn’t run away, this would never have happened!” snapped the beast.

“Well, if you hadn’t nearly ripped my head off, I wouldn’t have run away!” retorted Beau.

“Well, you shouldn’t have been in the west wing!”

“Well, you should learn to control your temper.”

That ended the argument. The princess snorted sulkily, slouching a little. Beau readied the towel. “I’ll be as gentle as I can, but this might sting a little.”

The beast winced pointedly, but said nothing. Beau dabbed at the bite, then added, “By the way, thank you for saving my life.”

The princess glanced up, her eyes softening a little. “You’re welcome.”

Their eyes met, lingering for a moment. Mrs. Potts cleared her throat. “Well, Highness, it seems you’re all right now, so we’ll just be off.” She nudged pointedly at Lumière and Cogsworth, motioning at the door. Taking the hint, the two shuffled after her.

“Why did you do that, anyway?” Beau asked once they were alone. “I mean, you could have been killed.”

The princess snorted. “As if that mattered.”

“Of course it matters,” said Beau. “You’re a person.”

None of the bites were very deep, and only half had managed to tear the skin through the thick fur. As he wiped clumps of dried blood from the fur, Beau noticed something else; several pale scars ran along the underside of the beast’s wrist and arm, where the hair was thinner. Frowning curiously, he asked, “These aren’t from the wolves. Where’d you get those?”

The beast pulled her arm close to her, a little too quickly. “That’s—ouch—none of your business.”

Gently, Beau lifted the other arm, this time looking more closely. The same thing was to be found on that side, too. The scratches were very straight; too straight to be anything accidental. They looked as if they had happened abruptly, suddenly, and savagely; possibly from the work of a knife, or even a piece of broken glass.

Beau leaned forward, gazing intently into the beast’s face. “Hey.”

She turned away, refusing to meet his gaze. Beau gave her paw a gentle squeeze. “What’s wrong?”

The princess barked a loud, scornful laugh. “What’s wrong? Oh, nothing much; I’m just a huge, terrifying monster, that’s all. What on earth could be the matter with that!?” Her voice rose as she spoke, rumbling with the tremors of an oncoming growl. She nearly stood up in her chair, then retreated when she saw him flinch. Clenching her jaw, she purposefully willed the threatening tears not to come. “See what I mean?”

“You’re not a monster,” Beau assured, leaning closer. “You’re angry and upset; and I get that. I heard about what happened and I’m really sorry.”

He’d been half worried that she might blow up again, but she merely grunted, “It’s not you who should be sorry.”

They were silent again for a few more minutes. Presently, a new thought struck Beau’s mind. “Hey, I don’t even know your name; or do I just call you ‘your Highness’?”

The princess glanced up. “No, that’s okay. It’s Rosalynn, if you must know.”

This seemed a good start, so Beau tried another gesture of friendship. “Do you want a nickname or anything? How about Rosa, or Rose?”

“Lynn, thank you,” said the princess sharply, but repeated more gently, “Just Lynn is fine.”

Beau gave her an encouraging smile. “All right, Lynn it is.”

Lynn flexed her fingers as Beau carefully dressed her arm, wrapping the bandage securely around it. “So, what do they call you?”

“Me? I’m just Beau,” Beau replied. “No title or anything.”

“That’s okay,” said Lynn, with just a hint of a half-smile. It was the first genuine smile she’d given in a long time. “It’s probably better that way.”

Beau rose to his feet. “Right, well, just leave that on for a while. If you’re comfortable and all, I’ll say goodnight.” He turned towards the door.

“No, wait, please!” There was an edge of desperation in her voice as Lynn reached out, grabbing at his arm. Instinctively, she recoiled at the same moment, half afraid to touch him for fear of grasping too hard. Her claws had left marks before.

Beau halted. “What is it?”

“I…” Lynn hesitated, not wanting to sound pathetic. In all honest truth, she dreaded being alone with herself, yet was loath to be among others. “I don’t… don’t know, uh, your story.”

Beau sat down again. “There’s really not much to tell. I only live a few miles from here; my father’s an inventor, I was starting work at a library, and my two brothers—”

“You have brothers?” interrupted Lynn, intrigued.

So, Beau told her about his home life until recently; all about the Great Invention, the town library, and the basic living standards of Pauvreville. Lynn listened eagerly, until he mentioned the name of Georgiana.

At this, the princess stiffened. “Who’s that?”

“Just this girl I know,” answered Beau.

Half afraid to know, Lynn ventured, “Is she pretty?”

“Oh, she’s pretty, all right,” said Beau, shaking his head. “And rude and conceited and very, very clingy. She’s not for me; really not my type.”

Lynn relaxed a good deal. “Oh.”

“But enough about me,” said Beau. “What about you? What’s your story?”

Lynn shrugged, dropping her eyes. “Not much to tell, really. I was enchanted, and it’s been pretty much the same ever since.”

“I meant, what was it like before that?” he clarified. “What about your family? What happened to your parents?”

Again, she shrugged. “What do you think happened?”

Wrong subject. “I-I’m so sorry, I wasn’t thinking—”

“It’s fine,” she assured him. “I don’t even remember them; I was, like, two.”

There was a rather awkward pause. Beau bit his lip, wondering how to rectify his mistake. With slight misgivings, he pressed on. “Um, h-how did you survive?”

“Beats me,” she replied. “I have my own castle, out near the end of nowhere, so I guess I just got missed.”

Beau pondered this a minute. “So, do you think this curse, or whatever, may have actually been a good thing? I mean,” he continued hastily, “not that it was good that you got enchanted and all, but that you stayed isolated and out of the way?”

This took Lynn rather aback, but she said only, “I guess so; I never really thought of that as a good thing or a bad thing.”

“Well, I showed up, didn’t I?”

The princess started a little, slowly raising her gaze to meet his. It was sincere.

“So, for now,” he went on, “I would consider it at least sort of a good thing.”

Her eyes never left him. “Fair enough.”