Chapter Text
Prologue
Once upon a time, in a faraway land, a young prince of great magic and power lived in a shining castle. Although he had everything his heart could ever desire, the Prince was stubborn, selfish and uncaring. But then, one winter's night, an old beggar hobbled onto the castle steps. Offering him a single rose in return for shelter from the bitter cold.
“Fair prince, my hands are frozen stiff and my eyes can hardly see in the dark of the night. Please accept this humble rose so please let me stay just for one night.”
Repulsed by her haggard appearance, the Prince sneered at the gift and turned the vagrant away.
“A rose?” He snarled. His lips, sculpted from marble and smoother than wax, revealed piercing fangs, “Do you mock me?”
The dirt-clothed beggar did not waver. Standing firm in the face of an instilled fear.
“Do not let this rose deceive you, for its beauty is found only through a closer gaze.” Wrinkled and shivering hands held the rose up, enduring its thorns, for the Prince to only sneer at.
He concluded, “I have no need for a rose, I only need power and strength.”
The Prince turned his back, commanding his servants to lock the vagrant out in the blizzard. Yet the doors refused to close, and his bodyguards all froze as if they were trapped by the night’s spell.
“Oh spoiled Prince, your heart is uglier than this face of mine.”
The beggar’s skin started to shine, radiating and burning the eyes of all that saw, his spine unfurled like the new wings of a butterfly. He took the figure of a beautiful youth, golden hair and amethyst eyes, a face crafted by Aphrodite herself.
He was the Enchantress that the edges of the forest had whispered about, bringing beauty to the newly burnt fields and smoking groves. The remnants of a powerful mage’s wrath.
“No!” The Prince cried, preparing to set the Enchantress ablaze.
“I have seen that there is no capacity for love in you, a prince like you is no better than a beast.”
The Enchantress casted a spell onto the Prince, his body twisted, contorted, grew, shedded, writhed and gnarled. The visage he would see in the mirror would be nothing like the face he saw the day before or the one his family and servants knew.
He remained silent for any apology would be barred by gritted fangs.
As punishment, the Enchantress transformed the Prince into a hideous beast. He was shunned by both fae and humans, for he would resemble the worst of both worlds. Ashamed of his monstrous form, the Beast concealed himself inside his castle with a magic mirror as his only window to the outside world.
The rose he had offered was truly an enchanted rose, which will bloom for all of eternity. If he could learn to love another, and earn their love in return, then the spell would be broken. If not, he would be doomed to remain a beast for as long as the rose stayed in bloom.
As the years passed, he fell into despair and lost all hope, for who could ever learn to love a beast?
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A young man takes a leisurely stroll in the village today, on an errand for Granny Bucchi, and maybe himself. It’s a quiet town, a quaint little place, full of little people who have managed to make their little lives very full and very busy. Leona leisurely ducks and dodges the busy people, lazily weaving through wagons and the bustle of life, he watches the flurry of morning around him.
The baker goes around town with his tray of steaming breads, advertising his bakery by smell and it works. “Oh Leona! Would you like to try my new loaves?”
He takes a whiff of them, reminding him of basking in the sun back home. He says, “No.” before he curtly walks away.
“Hello Leona, lovely weather today.” A farmer leads his horse and wagon, Leona weaves out of their way and they soon walk besides each other but only for a couple of moments. He nods in reply then waltzes away.
There’s nothing more but mindless chatter to him, everybody eyeing and nosing at him,
“Good morning!”
“Fancy seeing you around here, something happened?”
“How’s your family doing?”
He tunes them out, with each step on the cobblestone pavement towards the book store.
Leona’s shoulders droop slightly as he hears a familiar jingle. This door opens to a store where books fill every shelf and nook and cranny, to the point that the owner has let them pile in the corners. People prefer to make money than spend it on a musty book in this village. Surprising Leona likes it that way, it means there’s less people to bother him here.
“Leona!” A wheezing voice calls from above, although not an angel but close enough, “Have you already finished that book?”
“I didn’t have much to do anyways.” He yawns as he places the volume back into place, reaching for its successor in collection.
“At this rate, I’ll have nothing left for you to read!” He jokes as he slides down the ladder, it creaks under the weight of dust.
Leona’s tail swishes, flurrying dust and dead leaves, as he decides to browse the rest of the store. The owner was unfortunately right. He scanned the shelves on his right, finished, and then his left, also finished. Even the stacks of books on the floor had already been devoured by him.
He pondered but accepted the fate imposed.
“I’ll borrow this one and see what you have next time I visit.” Leona held the book up for the owner to see, it was a thick tome, part of the non-fiction section and the linguistics shelf. He wonders how many times the young man is going to reread that particular collection, deciphering texts for no answer.
They bid each other goodbye.
Back to his errand, he saunters to the local mill, buying paper for Granny Bucchi’s grandson and himself. Unfortunately he meets the local hunter and his apprentice.
“Bonjour!” The infuriating fellow calls out to him.
“Good morning Leona!” His younger fellow calls out after.
He scoffs and brushes them off, but they follow.
The hunter decides to wax to Leona, “Oh isn’t the sky just so lovely today! I can practically feel the sun’s golden glow over us all yet the breeze is so cool and chilling, oh the joy of Autumn! Alas we will be heading into winter soon, a shame for all the wildlife will be as hidden as the people. We’ll be shut into our homes, all warm and snug and-”
“Mmhm.” Leona replies.
“And must I say, aren’t you just as radiant as the sun today? A rare thing it is to see you, walking about today. It feels like forever since I last saw your face, and what a handsome thing it is to see! Oh but that’s not all, there seems to be more fluff in your ears today and has your tail gotten plumper-”
Leona decides to walk faster, unfortunately the hunter and his apprentice only follow more fervently.
“Uh Leona, I’ve been meaning to ask…” He looks up when asking, his big baby blue eyes bat those lilac lashes at him, “Did you really fight that boar with your bare hands!?”
Of course, one should never be deceived by appearances.
“I heard everybody talk about how you defended Ms. Bucchi and Ruggie from it!” He was practically ready to pounce on Leona, waiting to squeeze out every drop of his heroic feat-
“Epel,” Leona says flatly, “I didn’t fight any boar, I’ve never had and I don’t think I will.”
The apprentice pauses mid-step, tripping over a rock and landing on his face. It was a pretty thing, doll-like and adorable much to his dismay. His mentor stayed by his side and helped him up. Leona took this as a chance to escape their presence.
The mill is a relatively new addition to the town, a fair walk away from the rest of the buildings with metal trims still clear of rust and grime.
Leona walks in on someone curling stacks of paper attached to a pole. He waits for the lad to finish, which he does once he notices him standing in the entrance.
He scuttles to behind the desk and clears his throat, “Good morning, how can I help you today.”
It’s quite easy to tell that he’s new to this place, considering that Leona doesn’t recognise his face but then again he rarely did make an effort. The fellow is fairly taller than him, with shoulders nearing as wide as the table but he looked rather youthful, especially with that glint of enthusiasm behind his eyes. Leona swears there’s basically a twinkle in them.
“I’ll take 10 madols worth of paper,” Leona orders unfazed then he eyes a couple bottles of ink on the shelves behind the young man, “and those bottles of ink too.”
“Sure, how many?”
“Three.”
He makes his way to the back and returns with his hands carrying a stack of paper. He wraps them up in parchment and takes the payment.
“Thank you for your purchase, we wish to see you-”
What a noisy brat.
Leona shuts the door and walks back to the village.
The sun is still high in the sky, a couple of children are playing in the town square. They like to poke and prod at Leona, inspecting him with their curious eyes.
“LEONA!” A shrill voice calls him, it could only be his ‘landlady’, the only person in town that can make him do an ounce of labour.
“Yeah, what do you want you old-”
She yanks his ear, a far reach considering her hunching age, and brings it to her mouth.
“DID YOU GET THE PAPER?!”
He jolts from the auditory attack, pulling away and rubbing his ear of the pain.
“Yeah yeah, I got you your things.” Leona pushes her away with her requested items, “Now buzz off.”
She grins, her teeth are few missing and crooked but Leona has been living with that grin for the past couple of years. It’s a smile he wakes up to, considering she screams into his ears on a daily basis. She’s the most reliable alarm he’s ever had, considering he’s slept through weddings to floods to assassinations-
“GRANNY!” The door slams open, “I’M HOME!”
It’s quite easy to recognise a Bucchi, for one they like to scream into a particular Leona’s ear. Peace of mind is a valuable thing in this household.
When Leona first met the two, on a snowy night that taught the young man to appreciate the warmth of his home, they were more frames than bodies. Yet that night they saw a wanderer in the cold and welcomed him with little soup and some blankets on the floor. It was the worst Leona had ever slept, the wood splintered and the walls were thin, yet they used up most of their stored firewood that night for their guest.
It surprised them to see bundles of firewood when they came home that night. Their guest had also taken the liberty to buy them new blankets and pillows, which was enough to cement his occupancy in their home.
The sun was beginning to dip and dinner would be served soon. The meal carried familiar flavours to Leona’s home, maybe Granny Bucchi knew or maybe it was simply a remnant of a home she once knew too. After he was done, he scraped his plate then washed it. Ruggie and his grandmother decided to stack all the dirty dishes for him, he would’ve thrown one at them if he was younger.
He’s taken a whole room to himself, although when the nights got chilly he’d join them around the hearth. His room hung a rug of white, black and brown, his sister-in-law gifted it to him during one of his visits back home, his bed was positioned so it could constantly bask in the sun and there was a sturdy desk.
On that desk were a few papers, inked with words recording his daily life. In the drawer under the desk were bundles of letters, some from his brother, his mother and he had recently received a few from his nephew. He didn’t write back often, yet his family never stopped reaching out to him.
Leona sat in his chair with a quill, finishing his reply. He folds the letter and stamps it with wax, leaving it on his desk, so he can return to his bed. They would receive this letter during the winter.
He falls asleep quite easily and wakes up with much difficulty, sometimes life is too easy to bury under dreams. It was always a known fact that Leona slept the days away, even if the Bucchis could wake him up that didn’t mean he’d stay awake.
He doesn’t know why he woke up, but he didn’t go back to sleep.
The moon had lulled the stars into their inky blanket. He found himself sitting under the stars, gazing up at them. Etching the shapes of old stories he was told as a child, of glorious kings and honored scholars. They are people that are remembered because they are people that are loved and cherished, they have been recognised as more than what they seemed.
“Leonaaa,” That squeaky voice could only come from Ruggie.
He stretched a bit before replying, “What do you want?”
“Are you busy right now?”
“Yes, very.” Leona states as he begins to bury himself in his blankets.
“What about my lessons!” Ruggie pulls the covers off the drowsy lion.
Ruggie didn’t look that much different from Granny Bucchi, apparently he’s taller than his own mother now or so she says. He’s not as thin as he was when Leona first met him.
When did he grow past my shoulder? Eh, whatever.
He looks at his ‘student’, who pouts quite ugly. Leona sighs and gets out of bed.
The table by the hearth is already hosting the newly bought paper and ink. Leona takes a peek into Ruggie’s room through a door left ajar, and spots the books he bought for his birthday. Their spines have been creased and well-used, it gives his heart a small swell of pride.
Leona reviews Ruggie’s work. His letters have grown cleaner and his sentences have learnt to become less rigid. There’s still a couple of spelling errors, some verbs and subjects don’t agree and he could polish up on-
“Good enough. Show me the words that you didn’t know from that new book you’re reading.”
The wind peeks through the cracks in the walls, watching the two hunched over a book, papers and near-empty wells. They go through the chapter, questioning and analysing and inferring.
It's tiring to think. Leona has gone through that lesson time and time again, yet he finds himself unable to teach it to any of his students.
Snow piles outside, hoping to reach the door and be welcomed inside.
Granny Bucchi knocks Leona awake with a pot, for her grandson a pan. She brings three bowls of stew and bread onto the table, clearing last night’s lesson away.
Ruggie has always eaten like it was his last meal, he learnt that from his grandmother. Leona still eats like how he was taught, poised and proper, some habits of his are hard to kill. Most have yet to die.
He was still at the table by the time Ruggie made it to the door.
“Oi Ruggie.”
“What do you-”
“I need to send a letter to my folks,” Leona gestures to his room. “Take that bag of Madol with you too, you can spend the rest.”
Ruggie forgets to groan or sigh, plucking the letter off Leona’s desk and rushing to the post office.