He was a beast to be sure, but he'd been a man once. Long enough ago that he didn't quite remember. Tall, dark, ferocious. Hirsute, yes, but still mostly a man. Longer claws than you'd think, more primal too. He'd been bound here almost three hundred years for a wrongdoing he did remember vividly. He'd taken his time telling her. Anyone would have. She was frightened enough as it was. She took her time coming to terms with what he'd done and how she felt about him. She'd decided to not judge him based on his worst day. She'd done this with a free and open heart. Her circumstances had no more to do with it than they needed to, which is to say very little. He'd grown kind out of his numbness. Quite fortunate for him.
She'd been on holiday after finding out her fiancé had been cheating on her. She'd been saving herself for some foolish reason or other and his excuse for the other woman had been that he couldn't wait. That he'd stop as soon as they'd marry. She'd left for a far away country not even a week later. Somewhere she could be alone and read poetry aloud to no one in particular but the breeze accompanying her on her strolls.
It had been on one of these strolls that she'd found the entombing walls of vines and roses and thorns. Walking around it in awe, she could make out a gate and tried to crawl through. Adventurous wasn't something one would have called her before. Now adventure was all that was left for her. She couldn't go back to anything else. There wasn't anything else for her.
A single thorn had scratched her cheek, just below her left eye. She felt a drop of blood running down her face. She brought her hand up to it as the world promptly pulled itself away from her. The shadows of the manor brought her inside. She would have died otherwise. Not that they thought of this. They'd long since faded into nothing but their purposes. Apparitions of black smoke that tended to the needs of the Beast and this curse. Now they served her as well.
When she'd come to, she tried desperately to leave. But she was careful to avoid the thorns after losing consciousness a time or two. Eventually she'd found the Beast. He hadn't been hiding, but it was a large manor, and he knew she would want nothing to do with him. She'd been frightened of course. But that quickly faded when she realized he meant her no harm. She didn't want to believe his story, but she had no other.
They began to grow close, together. They shared their heartbreaks. She told him of her pain. He explained his years spent full of remorse for something he could never make right. He'd tried to kill himself more times than he cared to remember, more times than he'd tell her about. Every time he'd awake, surrounded by the shadows. Alone.
He accompanied her on one of her evening strolls around the manor. The gardens were vast and she never tired of them. Especially at sunset. They'd been walking in silence for a few moments. Doing nothing more than enjoying being near one another. She took his hand. Still a man's hand, but she was conscious of the claws he now had too. He paused for just a moment as his heart raced. Gently grasping hers in return they continued their walk in silence. Together.
At night, after the shadows had served dinner, the two retired to the library. Both of them reading alone. Together. There was an oversized fireplace with gargoyle-like figurines made out of black marble on either side. A sofa faced it with two overly plush chairs flanking it. They each usually took one of the overly plush chairs. This evening the Beast sat on the sofa. She joined beside him. Eventually finding herself in his lap, her head resting on his chest. Still with book in hand. Neither in any position to read. Soon enough the books had fallen where they may.
