Jean being the last human he will see in his eternal misery. He endures the strained visits for the sole purpose of learning about the world. Where his servants can go to Fauve for short hours, no one has yet managed to step one foot beyond its borders and if they linger past sunset, the curse inexplicably forces them to return. Jean, on the other hand, can go where he pleases. He spends much of his time at court and can tell the Beast more about the changing times than anyone else.
Of course, such answers always have to be pulled from him and it seems he takes great delight in making the Beast wait for them. He enjoys pulling the monster’s tail, knowing he will never feel its bite.
The Beast begins to treasure his solitude.
And then, on a sunny summer day, Jean comes in with his young wife on his arm.
“My Lord Beast, may I present Madame Angelique Lafarge.”
The Beast bows as properly as he is able while casting a hard glare at Jean. Bastien is stirring inside him, taking an unsettling interest in what is happening.
Angelique curtsies. “My Lord,” she says and deep inside the Beast’s psyche, Bastien preens.
“The Beast is cursed, Angelique,” Jean says in a tone that makes the Beast bristle. “He is a man trapped in the body of a monster. Only under the light of the full moon can he be himself again.”
The Beast growls a warning.
Jean turns Angelique to him and says as he would to a child, “You must never come here alone, my dear. And never when the moon is full.” He may as well have dangled a sweet before her and told her not to reach for it.
Angelique’s eyes grow wide with fascination and she is staring at the Beast when she nods.
“Yes, husband.”
Jean pats her on the head. “There’s my good girl,” he says and the Beast wonders whether she is simple in some way, or whether he is simply being cruel. He doesn’t object when Jean takes her for a stroll in the rose garden.
“Peculiar one, isn’t he?” Jacques says when they are out of earshot.
“Something’s not right,” the Beast replies. “Keep an eye on them. Make sure they don’t stray where they’re not supposed to.”
“Yes, Master,” Jacques says.
But they don’t stray. Jean takes Angelique around the garden, brings blooms to her face so she can smell them. He does not cut any, he knows better than to dare. He points out the towers, the architectural details of the castle, the pristinely manicured lawns and many other things which his young wife has no interest in, if the way her gaze keeps straying to the library window and the Beast standing behind it is anything to go by.
The charade is done with soon enough. They come back inside, and Jean lets Angelique get in the carriage first while he collects his hat.
“Why did you bring her,” The Beast asks.
Jean smiles, that same skewed smirk. “I thought you’d be happy. My father and grandfather told me so much about you I feel as though we’re family. But they never brought their wives or daughters here, did they? I should think it would ease your solitude to have a female visit from time to time. I wonder why they would deny you.”
Yes, he is very much like Bastien, seizing on any opportunity to show off what he has to all who don’t. He brought Angelique here to show the Beast what he will never have, and for no other reason. His eyes are like mirrors and in them the Beast sees himself, a desolate monster caged in his own castle, with enough coin to buy anything he wants, except the one thing he’ll never find. Love.
“Be careful, Jean,” the Beast tells him. “Be very careful what you lord over me. You might come to regret it.” It’s the Beast’s voice, but Bastien’s words. Taken aback by what he said as much as the look of thinly veiled triumph in Jean’s eyes, the Beast shakes himself and retreats to his chambers.
Troubled thoughts send him into troubled dreams that night. He sees memories of visions from centuries ago, things he
Of course, such answers always have to be pulled from him and it seems he takes great delight in making the Beast wait for them. He enjoys pulling the monster’s tail, knowing he will never feel its bite.
The Beast begins to treasure his solitude.
And then, on a sunny summer day, Jean comes in with his young wife on his arm.
“My Lord Beast, may I present Madame Angelique Lafarge.”
The Beast bows as properly as he is able while casting a hard glare at Jean. Bastien is stirring inside him, taking an unsettling interest in what is happening.
Angelique curtsies. “My Lord,” she says and deep inside the Beast’s psyche, Bastien preens.
“The Beast is cursed, Angelique,” Jean says in a tone that makes the Beast bristle. “He is a man trapped in the body of a monster. Only under the light of the full moon can he be himself again.”
The Beast growls a warning.
Jean turns Angelique to him and says as he would to a child, “You must never come here alone, my dear. And never when the moon is full.” He may as well have dangled a sweet before her and told her not to reach for it.
Angelique’s eyes grow wide with fascination and she is staring at the Beast when she nods.
“Yes, husband.”
Jean pats her on the head. “There’s my good girl,” he says and the Beast wonders whether she is simple in some way, or whether he is simply being cruel. He doesn’t object when Jean takes her for a stroll in the rose garden.
“Peculiar one, isn’t he?” Jacques says when they are out of earshot.
“Something’s not right,” the Beast replies. “Keep an eye on them. Make sure they don’t stray where they’re not supposed to.”
“Yes, Master,” Jacques says.
But they don’t stray. Jean takes Angelique around the garden, brings blooms to her face so she can smell them. He does not cut any, he knows better than to dare. He points out the towers, the architectural details of the castle, the pristinely manicured lawns and many other things which his young wife has no interest in, if the way her gaze keeps straying to the library window and the Beast standing behind it is anything to go by.
The charade is done with soon enough. They come back inside, and Jean lets Angelique get in the carriage first while he collects his hat.
“Why did you bring her,” The Beast asks.
Jean smiles, that same skewed smirk. “I thought you’d be happy. My father and grandfather told me so much about you I feel as though we’re family. But they never brought their wives or daughters here, did they? I should think it would ease your solitude to have a female visit from time to time. I wonder why they would deny you.”
Yes, he is very much like Bastien, seizing on any opportunity to show off what he has to all who don’t. He brought Angelique here to show the Beast what he will never have, and for no other reason. His eyes are like mirrors and in them the Beast sees himself, a desolate monster caged in his own castle, with enough coin to buy anything he wants, except the one thing he’ll never find. Love.
“Be careful, Jean,” the Beast tells him. “Be very careful what you lord over me. You might come to regret it.” It’s the Beast’s voice, but Bastien’s words. Taken aback by what he said as much as the look of thinly veiled triumph in Jean’s eyes, the Beast shakes himself and retreats to his chambers.
Troubled thoughts send him into troubled dreams that night. He sees memories of visions from centuries ago, things he
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