Note: French/italicized word definitions at the bottom.
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It was a cold winter's night. There was a dreadful blizzard storming outside. The prince, Prince Tiger, was inside of his castle with his friends and family, as well as the labor force, while everyone but him danced and celebrated, but never for an exact reason. The thick walls of the castle concealed them completely. It seemed as if there wasn't a blizzard that was no doubt dangerous storming outside.
"These pesky free-loaders, only here for my fame and my riches. Taking advantage of moi," I said in my smooth french accent, "perhaps I'm not be as prudent as I should be." I sighed. I got up to go to my room in the west wing. On my way, I pass the front doors and I heard a very faint and croaky meow.
Rolling my eyes, surprised that anyone would still be alive even if they only stepped inches into the blizzard, I pounce over to the door and opened it. Behind it lie an old and ugly she-cat with dull yellow-brown eyes, torn up brown and white dirty fur, and a damaged tail. She must've also been out in the snow for quite a bit, the frost on her whiskers and muzzle clearly visible.
I didn't want to be rude, but I didn't want to waste my time on such a hideous creature.
"What is it that you, vieille, want from me?" I asked impatiently.
"Prince Tiger, please take me in. The tempete is getting much much worse. I am getting very weak. I will do any duty you assign me. I mendier." The old, ugly, she-cat said, fear and desperation obvious in both her voice and in her eyes.
I took a second to think about it. It was getting much worse outside. This vieux she-cat wouldn't make it 3 steps out there. She would surely die. But how could one such as moi let something such as ce fardeau into my castle? I cannot.
"I'm very sorry, madame," no, I actually wasn't. Ridding this cat of it's life might do her a favour, "but I must not let such an laid cat such as you into my beau castle. Seek refuge elsewhere."
As soon as my mouth closed shut, I saw fury fill up her gaze. "Is my appearance what causes you to deny shelter for me?" Her voice no longer sounded old and brittle, but powerful and feminine as would a beautiful young female. She continued, "do you have no pity for the poor, the weak, or the ugly?" She was starting to walk forward, and I began to back up.
"You are selfish. You are no more than a tiger, a selfish kin of us cats. Full of ambition and sanguinaire thoughts. They may be considered princes and kings to the animal kingdom, but they are still feared and hated. Seen as a beast." As soon as she finished her last sentence, she flicked her tail and in a heartbeat, every hair on her pelt turned a jet black and was perfectly groomed. I looked straight into her, now purple, eyes. She was gorgeous now. But she was still a witch cat, which his father had always warned him about.
"I curse you, Prince Tiger, to become what you are inside, hence..." Before she finished her sentence, she turned around and a burst of wind blew against her pelt and her figure dissolved into a black dust. That wasn't the only thing that was on the front steps now. Lying in front of him was a rose. Exactly half was tiger stripes and the other half was purely black. Next to it was a little note.
Prince Tiger,
Keep this rose closer than anything other than love. You have until every petal of this rose falls to fall in love and be loved in return and both of you must confess it to each other. If you do not succeed, you will stay a tiger, feared forever.
Good luck,
Esme the Witch Cat
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French/italicized word definitions:
Moi - Me
Prudent - Careful
Vieille - Old Woman
Tempete - Storm
Mendier - Beg
Vieux - Old
Ce Fardeau - This Burden
Laid - Ugly
Beau - Beautiful
Sanguinaire - Bloody/Bloodthirsty
