Once upon a time…
Belle was almost certainly the bravest warrior alive, if any fearsome beast or unscrupulous villain needed dispatching then you would naturally call upon Belle.
Most recently she had received a note from a terrified peasant from a nearby city-state, a land of oppression and misery. It was ruled over by a cruel and brutal dictator, who governed by fear. His rage, brutality and sadistic nature was known across the land and had corrupted the monarch so much that his physical appearance had altered as a result. He had once had short, windswept hair, the colour of a healthy oak tree and eyes that glimmered like sapphires. However, as his arrogance and cruelty intensified his good looks had radically and rapidly decayed, meaning he was now more animal than man. He had grown in stature and was severely muscle-bound, long brown fur covered his entire body, his hands and feet had broadened and elongated into enormous paws tipped with black, curved nails. His face was no longer ravishingly handsome; it was now a perverse combination of a lion and a feral wolf. His mastery of the human language had diminished somewhat, so now he spoke in an odd half language. It was an intensely eerie mixture of words and snarls that sent waves of fear coursing through the veins of anyone who heard it.
Belle had heard rumours of the horrors that the tyrant had visited upon his subjects, razing their houses to the ground and butchering anyone who spoke out against him. However, Belle had decided not to liberate the oppressed masses, because of one vitally important factor: no one was paying her. She wasn’t averse to doing pro-bono work, but Belle much preferred being paid in coin rather than appreciation. That factor had recently changed. Her pockets had been lined with silver and in exchange Belle had vowed to kill the tyrannical monarch… or die in the attempt. Armed with two hatchets and a katana, Belle was ready to administer a lethal dose of rough justice and liberate the city-state.
She had successfully managed to circumvent the imposing walls, evading capture by the border guards with legendary ease. The King’s castle loomed above all the other buildings, perfectly representing his un-quavering dominance over all. Belle spotted that one of the highest windows was open, light cascading forth. She removed the crossbow grapple that had been strapped to the back of her armour, she aimed it with incredible precision at the window ledge and fired. An arrow surged forward with the speed and ferocity of a cheetah with intense bloodlust and embedded itself in the stonework. A line of rope was connected to the end of the arrow and trailed back to the crossbow. Belle repeatedly turned a handle attached to the side of the crossbow (a modification of her design) and winched herself stealthily up the side of the building. She climbed over the window ledge and detached the arrow.
A quick glance around the room told her that this was The Tyrant’s bedchamber. It was filled with candles, all of them burning steadily, flickering slightly as a result of the draught caused by the open window. The room, luckily for Belle, was completely deserted, no sign of The Tyrant. The distant sound of loud operatic music drifted into the room, it was beautiful and powerful, two traits that Belle possessed in equally high measures. The source of the music was coming from far below her. She crept silently to the top of the staircase and moved wraithlike down three flights before reaching a vast and empty entrance hall. She slunk across and pressed her against a large pair of double doors, which had an intricate pattern carved into it. The operatic music was so clear now, it was coming from beyond these doors, calling to her like a Siren, enticing her towards a swift demise.
Belle took a few large steps back and then ran full pelt at the doors, at the last moment she leapt, soaring through the air like the most majestic of birds. Her feet connected with the doors and they burst open with a crash, interrupting the scene within. The Tyrant looked up at her, his yellow bloodshot eyes wide and surprise etched onto his hideously disfigured face. In his arms was a clockwork automaton, dressed in the most exquisite ball gown, it was yellow with white frills and pink bows. It was the pinnacle of fashion for members of the elite nobility and Belle found herself mesmerised by it for a few seconds before she remembered what she had come to the castle to do. Belle noticed that The Beast before her was dressed in the uniform that would be worn by the most prestigious war veteran at a formal occasion, like a wedding or some other important function. The uniform did not fit The Beast at all, several small rips and gaping tears adorned the once majestic garment. The front gaped open, parted like the Red Sea, allowing the furry muscle-bound chest of The Beast to protrude forth.
When The Beast had gotten over the shock of Belle’s sudden and somewhat overblown entrance, he flew into a spectacular rage. He threw the automaton aside, sending it crashing to the ground, cogs flying in every direction. The Beast marched over to the large fireplace at the back of the room and Belle saw that mounted above the hearth were two large crossed swords with inconceivably sharp serrated edges. With a roar he tore both of these blades from the wall, dislodging chunks of stone, and he turned slowly to face his prey. There was a great hunger in his eyes as The Beast stalked towards Belle, twirling the swords in elegant arcs, his mastery of swordplay was as excellent as ever despite his oversized paws that had once been his nimble hands. Belle was taken aback by his superior dexterity and her mind raced furiously to think of an appropriate ‘take down’ strategy. She whipped out her crossbow and fired a bolt aimed directly between The Beast’s glinting yellow eyes. It found its mark, burying itself deep causing The Beast to bellow with unrestrained anger and pain, a roar so loud the chandelier above shook wildly. He was not yet dead, just incredibly enraged and even more intent on spilling Belle’s blood in the most violent and sadistic way imaginable. Belle was aware that the arrow itself would not be enough to end the vile creature’s life, she had planned for this and as soon as The Beast had dropped his swords she lunged into action. She surged across the room with speed usually bestowed on a wild animal rather than a human and scooped up the swords and securing them in a vice like grasp. She swung the swords around in wide arcs and as they slice through the air, she heard the swords sing, a barely audible melancholic tune heralding The Beast’s imminent demise. The swords sliced through his thick flesh causing blood to cascade from his wounds, torrents of life fleeing from their prison. The red trickled down his body like a waterfall and The Beast fell and lay on his back, unable to move, his eyes gazing up at the ceiling. A shadow fell across his face as Belle stepped into his line of sight. She looked at him for a few moments, an innocent curiosity in her eyes as if she were interested in the process of death. She gently placed her foot on the protruding arrow tail and applied a small amount of pressure, which had the desired effect. The arrow was driven deeper and deeper into the corrupted brain of The Beast and the light in his eyes flickered for a few seconds before finally being snuffed out.
Belle reached into her pocket and withdrew a single white rose and she delicately planted a kiss upon its petals before laying it on The Beast’s chest.
“In the end, Beauty always kills The Beast.” She whispered, before turning on her heels and leaving.
Her work here was done.
