shannys_corner | beauty of the beast ~ prologue

It’s an hour past midnight when the witch hunters come. Mal wakes first: one hand reaches for her husband, the other for her daughter.

“Dom,” she shakes him awake, his senses less sharp than hers without the magic flowing through his veins, “Dom. We have to go.”

Ariadne is already awake, sitting up in her bed, eyes wide and terrified. Dom gets to his feet immediately and Mal waves a hand around the room, gathering their belongings in the blink of an eye.

“Where are we going?” Mal asks, throwing her coat on, helping Ariadne into hers.

“Arthur’s,” Dom says, sounding confident although Mal shakes her head.

“No. Not Arthur.”

“He’ll help us, Mal, he’s my friend.” They don’t have time for arguments; they don’t have time to do anything but run. Dom saddles up their horses, helping his wife and daughter up onto one and climbing onto the other.

“He hates magicals, Dom!” Mal says, loud enough that her voice carries over the howling wind, “He’s a hunter, how can you trust him?”

“I have to. We have to.”

Arthur Wolff has been a friend of Dom’s for years. He lives in the ancient castle of his ancestors, separated from the village by a large forest. The path is winding and it is very easy to get lost, but Dom knows the way. He leads his family through the old trees with their gnarled trunks, knowing how to avoid the wolf dens as they reach the castle.

Arthur has always kept late hours, preferring to hunt once the sun is down. He notices their approach, greeting them at the iron gates as they dismount from their horses.

“Arthur, the witch hunters are behind us. They’re after Mal and Ariadne. We need a place to lie low for a while.”

“I see.” Arthur doesn’t look at Dom once, his dark gaze fixed on Mal, who stares at him in turn. “The forest would have thrown the hunters off. Dom, if you want, you can stay here.”

“But not us,” Mal finishes. She doesn’t look surprised, but her grip on Ariadne’s shoulders tightens. “You won’t protect your so-called best friend’s family.”

Arthur sighs, as if this pains him. He finally looks at Dom. “I warned you the hunters wouldn’t leave you alone. I told you it was a bad idea to marry a witch.”

He says the word with so much venom that Dom flinches. Dom doesn’t look at Arthur when he says, “I love her.”

“Love,” Arthur repeats, with a bark of laughter.

“Arthur, please.” This time it’s Ariadne. There is a ten year age gap between them but they’d been close, until her magical blood had begun to show.

“No.” Arthur is resolute. “I won’t allow witches into my home.”

“Arthur,” Dom says in dismay. “I promise Mal and Ariadne won’t do anything. We’re running out of time—”

“Ariadne is young. She won’t have any control over her magic.” Arthur’s tone is bitter. “My answer is no, Dom. If you loved your family, you’d stop wasting your time and leave before the hunters catch up to you.”

Dom shuts his eyes with a pained expression, not wanting to believe what he is hearing.

“You are a wicked man,” Mal spits, her eyes bright with anger. Dom only realises what’s happening when it’s too late. She points at Arthur and there is an ethereal echo to her words when she speaks; “I curse you, Arthur Wolff. I curse you once, to become the same as the beasts you hunt with so much hate. I curse you twice, to be condemned for eternity in this form if you ever take the life of another magical being. I curse you thrice, to open your stone heart to love, or allow your obstinacy to be the death of you.”

“Mal—” There is nothing Dom can do now, watching the transformation already taking place. Arthur’s eyes are wide in fear and pain as he feels his body changing form.

“No,” he moans, gripping the bars of the gate, staring at his clawed hands in horror. “No!”

There is a rose in Mal’s fingers, thorny and unnaturally bright and glowing. She drops it at Arthur’s feet. “For every cycle of the moon, your rose will lose one petal. The only way you can break this curse is to understand what it is to be a lover. To know what it’s like to be half of a whole. If you don’t, you will die with the very last petal.”

“Change me back!” Arthur demands, throwing himself against the gate. The entire thing rattles and he growls—cutting himself off when he realises that he sounds just like the monsters that he’s devoted his entire life to killing. Something inside him breaks and Dom can see it in his expression.

“Come on,” Mal says, and Dom turns away, reaching for his horse with a shaking hand. Mal touches his shoulder and he nods silently, guiding his horse into the forest again and away from the village, away from the Wolff castle.

The witch hunters never catch up to them, but as they reach the outskirts of the forest, Dom thinks that he can hear the baleful roars of what was once his closest friend.