This is the result of listening to my Beauty and the Beast soundtrack too much. And I realize
Anita, and perhaps even Jean-Claude, will be out of character at times, ie most of the time, so
don’t bitch about too terribly much. And yeah, I realize Richard would make the better beast
than Jean-Claude, but there aint no way in hell Richard is going to get Anita in the end in one of
MY stories. Lol. So…if you aren’t very familiar with Disney’s beauty and the beast, this might
not make a whole lot of sense, in the beginning. But it becomes more original in the end.

Beauty and the Vampire

Chapter 1

  Once upon a time, in a far away land, a young prince lived in a shining castle. Although he had
  everything his heart desired, the prince was spoiled, selfish, and unkind. But then, one winter’s
 night, an old beggar woman came to the castle and offered him a single rose in return for shelter
  from the bitter cold. Repulsed by her haggard appearance, the prince sneered at the gift, and
 turned the old woman away. But she warned him not to be deceived by appearances, for beauty
  is found within. And when he dismissed her again, the old woman’s ugliness melted away, to
 reveal a beautiful enchantress. The prince tried to apologize, but it was too late, for she had seen
 that there was no love in his heart. And as punishment, she transformed him into a vampire, and
  placed a powerful spell on the castle, and all who lived there. Ashamed of his monstrous form,
   the prince concealed himself inside his castle, with a magic mirror as his only window to the
  outside world. The rose she had offered was truly an enchanted rose, which would bloom until
  his 21st year. If he could learn to love another, and earn their love in return by the time the last
 petal fell, then the spell would be broken. If not, he would be doomed to remain a monster for all
 time. As the years past, he fell into despair, and lost all hope, for who could ever learn to love a
                                 monster?

                         ~//~

“Anita, I’m off to the fair!” Maurice Blake called.

Anita peeked her head out of the door of the small cottage. She walked outside, it was
early afternoon. “Good luck at the fair, papa.” She kissed her father on each cheek, and he was
off to the inventor’s fair. He had invented that crazy steam powered wood chopping machine. It
was certainly ingenuitive, she hoped he won something. Anita went back inside. She was home
alone now, she only lived with her father. Her mother had died when she was small, in a carriage
accident. Her father was all she had left now, and she would do anything for him. A knocking on
the door distracter Anita from her thoughts. She peeked through the viewer at the door, and
grimaced. It was Richard, the village idiot. Everyone else thought he was the cat’s meow, but she
really had no interest in him. The problem was, he didn’t return the feeling of disinterest.

Anita was contemplating not to open the door, and pretend no one was home, when that
insistent knocking sounded again. With a growl Anita opened the door. “Richard, what a
pleasant surprise,” she said with mock enthusiasm.

“Isn’t it though?” He smiled, but it was more of a baring of teeth than anything. Richard
pushed inside, sitting in her father’s chair. “You know, Anita, I’ve been thinking.”

“Sounds difficult,” Anita quipped.

“Yes, but I can see the future ahead. A roaring fire in the fireplace, my latest kill roasting
over the fire, the little ones playing with the dog. We’ll have six or seven.”

“Dogs?”

Richard laughed, an annoying masculine bray. He stood, backing Anita towards the door.
“No, Anita, strapping boys, like me. And guess who the wife in the picture is, Anita.” Anita
pretended to think, as if she didn’t know. “You. You’re beautiful, and so am I. We were
obviously made for each other.”

Anita raised an eyebrow. “Richard, I’m…speechless.” With disgust, she thought.

“Then just say you’ll marry me.”

Just as Richard leaned in to kiss her, Anita opened the door, spilling him out of the house
and into a mud puddle. She noticed Richard had a wedding ceremony set up outside. How
presumptuous.

                         ~//~

Maurice rode on the trail with Philippe the horse, toting his invention behind him on a cart.
The forest had grown very dark and foreboding, the trees loomed above them, looking quite
sinister. He was beginning to think he took a wrong turn. A wolf howled in the distance, making
Philippe uneasy. The howls grew closer, until the pack of wolves surrounded the cart, nipping at
Philippe’s heels. The horse darted, and Maurice held on for dear life. He was thrown from the
cart, and Philippe raced on without him. The howls were getting closer once again. Maurice
noticed a black wrought iron fence. He hurriedly ran inside the gate, shutting it behind him just in
time, before the wolves could grab their quarry.

The old man hurried on his way towards the castle inside the fence. It was huge, dark, and
sinister in appearance. But at the moment, he didn’t care how uninviting it looked, he wanted to
get away from the cold, and the wolves. He entered the castle, shutting the door behind him.
“Hello, is anyone there?” he called. The only answer he received was his own echo. He
wandered on. “Hello?” he called again. Maurice found a candlestick aflame, he picked it up. “I
lost my horse, and I need a place to stay for the night.”

     Maurice thought he heard voices, but he couldn’t place where. “Of course, monsieur, you
     are welcome here.” The cold

wet man looked around, trying to locate the voice. “Over here.” Maurice still did not realize
where the voice was coming from. The candle stick tapped him on the shoulder. “Hello.”

Maurice dropped the candlestick, startled. Just at that moment a clock wandered down the
steps. “Now you’ve done it, Lumiere. If the master finds out—”

“Oh, hush, Cogsworth, we have a guest.”

Maurice was astounded. How could a candlestick and a clock be talking, and moving?
Never the less, he accepted it quickly, and followed Lumiere into a large living room. The
candlestick directed him to sit in a large comfortable chair, before a warm fire. A barking
footstool bounded over, propping Maurice’s feet up. Cogsworth complained, “Oh, no, not the
Master’s chair, not the Master’s chair…”

“Hush, Cogsworth,” was Lumiere’s swift reply.

A cart rolled up with a talking teapot, and cup. As Maurice took a sip of tea the cup
commented that his mustache tickled, startling Maurice a great deal. The clock was still fretting,
but everyone ignored him.

Suddenly the roaring fire staunched itself, all the talking objects ran for cover. Maurice felt
a presence behind him. “It is funny monsieur, I cannot enter your house without an invitation, but
you can enter mine,” said a voice. It had texture to it, cutting like daggers.

The next thing Maurice knew, he was picked up effortlessly by the scruff of his collar, and
thrown into a cold dank cell. He never saw the angry host full on, only a glimpse of black hair,
and a flash of midnight blue eyes.

                         ~//~

Anita peeked her head out the door, checking to make sure that arrogant Richard was
gone. He was. She went out side to feed her chickens, cringing with the thought of that arrogant
bastard. He didn’t love her, he just wanted to sleep with her. He wanted the title of owning the
prettiest girl in the village. She sure as hell wasn’t punching out his kids. Seven? No way in hell!

Suddenly Philippe the horse galloped up. It still had the cart in tow, but no papa. Anita was
worried, and she could see the scared look in Philippe’s eyes. Unhitching the cart, and mounting
the horse, Anita instructed, “Take me to Papa, Philippe.”

                         ~//~

Philippe led Anita to the outside gate of the massive castle. Anita tied Philippe to the inside
of the gate so he would be safe from the wolves she had heard howling in the distance. Anita
entered the castle. She wandered around the castle. “Hello, is anyone there?” she called,
receiving her answer. High in the tower, she found her papa, in a cold dank cell. She knelt, taking
his hand through the bars. “Oh, Papa, who did this to you?”

Something suddenly staunched the torch that had provided light in the cold tower. “I did,”
replied a voice. Maurice coughed.

Anita glanced up, but couldn’t see anyone clearly. With nerves of steel, she demanded,
“Why? He is sick, he needs a doctor. Please, let him out.”

“He can never leave, he is my prisoner. He should not have trespassed here.”

“But sir—”

“He cannot leave!”

Anita gulped, swallowing her fear. “Take me instead.

The dark figure paused, seeming surprised. “You would take his place?”

“Yes, now let him go.”

“NO ANITA!” her father protested.

“Then you must stay here with me, and never leave the castle.”

Anita sighed. “So be it.” She peered into the darkness, still unable to make out her captor’s
features. “Step into the light.”

The man complied, and Anita gasped. Not out of fright, but because he was beautiful. Soft
ebony curls fell below his shoulders, framing a perfect face, and amazing midnight blue eyes. He
was tall, much taller than her, but not quite six feet. He wore a loose white shirt, with full sleeves
and lace at the cuffs. Black boots traveled up his long legs to the knee, over tight black pants. He
didn’t look monstrous, but appearances are not always what they seem.

~//~

Anita watched her still protesting father be tossed into a carriage, and carried away. She
widened her eyes. Did she just see that carriage get up and walk off by itself?

She heard a loud AHEM behind her. She turned to face her captor with a frown. “Follow
me to your room,” he said. It sounded too much like an order for her tastes, but she followed the
man anyway, surprised she didn’t have to stay in the tower. She watched the man walk ahead of
her. He had a very nice rear end. Very nice indeed. “The castle is your home now,” he said.
“You may go anywhere, except for the west wing.”

“What’s in the west wi—”

“It is forbidden,” the man simply instructed. Anita nodded, walking in stride with the man.
She wanted him to know she wasn’t a follower.

“What should I call you? Jailer doesn’t quite seem appropriate.”

The man raised an eyebrow. “You may call me Jean-Claude.” Anita nodded.

Jean-Claude’s eyes slid to the side, to look at his prisoner, guest. No, she was a prisoner.
She was lovely, with hair as dark as his own, her eyes were so dark brown they were almost
black. Her skin was pale, and she was quite petite, only coming up to a little above his shoulder.
The simple burgundy dress she wore was flattering to her figure. Jean-Claude saw his chance in
this woman’s stay. The rose would wilt soon, and he would be stuck a vampire forever, if some
action was not taken soon. But how could she ever love him?

They reached Anita’s new room. Anita opened the door, going inside. “Dinner will be
prepared soon, you will join me in an hour,” said Jean-Claude.

Anita leaned against the door jam. “Sorry, I don’t take orders that well.”

Jean-Claude frowned. “If I were you, I would learn soon.”

“Yeah, well you’re not me,” replied Anita curtly, slamming the door in his face.
Jean-Claude stiffened with anger, his shoulders tense. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to break into
the room and drag her to dinner, or break into the room and kiss her.

He stalked to the dining room. He sat in his chair at the head of the table. Lumiere and
Cogsworth jumped up on the table to speak to him. Not too long ago Jean-Claude would have
thought it ridiculous to speak to objects, but all that had changed the night the spell had been set.
Lumiere glanced down. “Jean-Claude, you do realize the possibilities this girl presents up with?”

Jean-Claude frowned at his candlestick. He had once been his footman, Asher, but now
that he had been changed into a golden candlestick Jean-Claude had taken to calling him
Lumiere. “Of course I realize, Lumiere. I am not a fool. But we only have a few more days until
my 21st year, my friend. How could I possibly win her over in a few days? I am a monster.”

“Only in your fangs, Master,” said Cogsworth. “But does she know about them? I think
not.”

“Only in my fangs?” Jean-Claude demanded, his short temper exploding. “Not only in my
fangs, but I cannot go out in the daylight. I cannot eat solid food. I have to be extremely careful
of my eyes, or else I may bespell her. I could pick up this table with one arm! What else could
designate me as the monster I am?!” Jean-Claude glanced at the time on Cogsworth’s face. An
hour had passed, and Anita was still not down from her room. “Where is she?” he demanded.

“I will fetch her,” Cogsworth quickly volunteered, not wanting to risk another explosion.

Jean-Claude waited impatiently, drumming his fingers on the table. “Jean-Claude?”
Lumiere asked.

“What?!”

“Be the suave gentleman I know you can be, and you shall win her over. No one could
resist you, if it weren’t for your temper.”

Jean-Claude bared his fangs at Lumiere, sweeping off of the table with a wave of his hand.
The candlestick clattered to the floor. Cogsworth wandered into the room. “Uh…Master, she is
not coming down.”

“What?”

Cogsworth stayed silent, knowing Jean-Claude had heard him perfectly well. Jean-Claude
stalked out of the room, retiring to his coffin. She would have noticed he didn’t eat anything,
anyway.

Chapter 2

Oui, je sais, I know this is incredibly close to disney’s version. Know what? Its supposed to be!
Muhawhawhaw! Maybe I should have named this the story where the author goes crazy in la la
land! Ahem. However, I will be adding some original parts. Its not all talking clocks and
candlesticks. There will be some parts that Disney wouldn’t dare put in an animated feature film.
Although it might be amusing……

The strange carriage dropped Maurice off at his village, then returned to the castle in the
mountains. Maurice immediately set out for help, going to Richard’s hunting lodge. He entered, a
cold draft from the outside blowing through. “Help! Please, I need your help! He’s got her
locked in the dungeon!”

“Who?” a face from the crowd asked.

“Belle! He has her prisoner, in his tower!”

Richard raised an eyebrow. “Slow down there, Maurice. Who’s got belle?”

“A monster! A horrible monster in the castle! Will you help me?”

The whole room erupted in laughter. “We’ll help you OUT,” two men said, escorting
Maurice out of the door, pitching him into a snow drift.

~//~

Anita explored the castle, Lumiere and Cogsworth gave her the grand tour. They had been
very kind to her. Cogsworth was at little fussy, but besides that. She had had a fantastic dinner
without her jailer last night. All of the animated objects around the house were so excited to have
a guest. Cogsworth and Lumiere walked ahead of her. She looked out the windows. Dusk was
at hand, it would be dark soon. She hadn’t seen Jean-Claude anywhere all day.

She glanced up at the West Wing. Why was it so forbidden? She would find out, she
thought, deviating from the tour group to go up the stairs.

As she walked through the West halls, she noticed that they were so much darker,
gloomier than the rest of the castle, if it was possible. She came to a large uninviting door. She
entered to find a room in tatters. Dust covered everything, furniture was overturned. It looked as
if no one had tended to the room in years. But one thing did catch her attention. There was a
small table off next to the window, with a rose under glass, and a mirror on it. She glanced out
the window. Darkness had fallen completely. She walked to the table, admiring the rose. She
reached out to lift up the glass cover, when a pale hand grasped her wrist. She hadn’t seen
Jean-Claude show up from anywhere, hadn’t heard a thing, but there he was. “What do you
think you are doing?” he demanded.

“I was just exploring. I—”

“I told you the west wing was forbidden.” There was a silent menace to Jean-Claude’s
voice that suddenly made her afraid.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean any harm—”

Jean-Claude lost his temper. “Get out!” he shouted, releasing her wrist.

I’ll get out, Anita thought. She rushed out of the room, scared of Jean-Claude’s sudden
outburst of temper.

Jean-Claude sighed. What if she had found my coffin, he thought. Then I would truly have
ruined all chances. But watching her flee the room made him think he already had.

~//~

Anita rushed for the door. “Where are you going?” called Lumiere.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t stay a moment longer.” Anita ran out into the courtyard, hopped on
Philippe, and rushed out of the courtyard. Not far along the path did she start to hear the eerie
howling of the ravenous wolves that seemed to surround the castle. The howling was growing
closer. Suddenly, one jumped out in front of them, making Philippe rear up on his hind legs with a
distressed whinny. Anita was thrown from her faithful steed. She quickly grabbed a branch,
landing a solid blow on one of the wolf’s head. With a yelp he fell to the ground. A wolf darted
for Philippe’s heel, the large horse kicked it away. Another wolf pounced on Anita, she barely
managed to hold it’s toothy maw above her face.

In a flash, the wolf was torn from her. It was Jean-Claude. He held the large wolf by the
scruff of its neck, as if it weighed nothing, and tossed it into a nearby tree. Jean-Claude glared at
the rest of the wolves, holding them a bay. They were his creature to call, to control, and they
would obey him. He turned to Anita. “Would you like to return to the castle, or take your
chances with the wolves? As soon I leave they would love to eat you, and your horse.”

Anita glared at Jean-Claude, but nodded that she would return to the castle with him. She
mounted Philippe, and much to her surprise, Jean-Claude mounted behind her, taking control of
the reins. He pointed to the woods, and the wolves ran away, disappearing into the forest.

“How did you do that, with the wolves?” Anita asked as they rode back to the castle.

“I control everything on my lands, Anita. Even the animals.”

Anita raised an eyebrow. “And I suppose you will seek to control me next?”

Jean-Claude sighed. “No, Anita. I do not seek to control you. And even if I wanted to, I
doubt I could.”

“Good,” Anita answered curtly. Jean-Claude chuckled, sending a rolling wave of
gooseflesh over Anita’s skin. She didn’t know how he did it, but suddenly she was very aware of
the line of his body in the saddle behind her. But what was even more disconcerting to her, was
that she felt safe. Anita allowed herself to lean back against his chest. Jean-Claude smiled slightly,
holding her tighter with the arm he had around her waist. His nostrils flared. He could smell
blood, she had a deep scratch on her arm. That would need to be tended to.

~//~

“OUCH! That hurt!” yelled Anita.

Anita sat in Jean-Claude’s large chair, before the fireplace. He knelt in front of her,
attempting to clean the wound on her arm.

“This would never have happened, if you hadn’t run away,” retaliated Jean-Claude.

“I wouldn’t have run away, if you hadn’t scared me!”

“You shouldn’t have been in the west wing!”

“Yeah, well you should learn to control your temper!”

Jean-Claude snorted, grabbing Anita’s arm. “I am not the only one with a short temper,”
he said quietly. “Now hold still, this IS going to sting. Just get over it.” He dabbed the scratch on
her arm with a cloth.

Anita ground her teeth. “Your bedside manner could use some work.”

“I apologize, ma petite, but it has been months since I have bandaged an impatient young
woman’s arm, I’m out of practice,” Jean-Claude said sarcastically.

Anita rolled her eyes as Jean-Claude tied the cloth around her arm. “Your arm will heal in a
week or so, if you do not aggravate it anymore.”

Anita nodded. “I’ll leave off running away for another week or so.”

Jean-Claude chuckled. “If you insist.” He stood, a closed mouth smile curling on his lips.
Anita noticed he never showed his teeth when he smiled. Why was that, she wondered. Surely he
didn’t have bad teeth, the rest of him was so gorgeous.

Jean-Claude’s eyes swept over the petite woman sitting before him. She was delicate, like
a china doll, but strong at the same time. Her long black hair waved around her as she stood up
abruptly. She crossed her arms, resisting the temptation to reach out and touch the pale strip of
chest that peeked out from Jean-Claude’s shirt. “I’m a bit tired, I’m going to take a nap.” She
spun on her heel and fled the room. Jean-Claude closed his eyes, savoring the scent she left
behind.

He went to his room in the west wing. Leaning on the table by the window, he looked at
the rose behind glass. It had begun to wilt. He didn’t have much time now, but how could he get
Anita to love him in such a short span of time? Simply seducing her might not mean she truly
loved him.

And as much as he disliked being a monster, it wasn’t terrible. At least he still had his
human form. But it was all the others who were stuck in the form of objects that he had to break
the spell for. It was not fair to them, and the thought had only occurred to him recently. Perhaps
he wasn’t so selfish after all.

Jean-Claude picked up the magic mirror. “Show me Anita,” he demanded. She was in the
bathroom, undressing. He glanced away, not wanting to be rude, but his eyes were drawn back
to the mirror. He caught a line of pale flesh as Anita slid into the water of her bubble bath.
Sighing, Jean-Claude set down the mirror. He only had a few days, and he couldn’t just let her
dawdle in her room, could he?

~//~

Jean-Claude entered the large bathroom in a lordly manner, waving the chamber ladies, or
rather objects, away. They were surprised to see the Master barge in on their guest in such
away, but did not argue, leaving, closing the door behind them. Anita was surprised to see
Jean-Claude in the bathroom with her. She watched him walk towards her, not exactly sure why
he was there.

Jean-Claude sat down on the edge of the tub, pushing up his sleeves. “Will you be joining
me for dinner tonight, ma petite?”

Anita shrugged. “I suppose.”

“Then you will need to wash your hair, non?” Jean-Claude picked up a silver bowl, filling it
with water.

“What are you doing?” Jean-Claude put a finger under her chin, tilting her head back, and
wet her hair.

“I am washing your hair.” He poured a dollop of shampoo into his hand, and began to
knead it into her tresses. Anita was about to protest, but it felt very good. She leaned back,
letting Jean-Claude do his work. He rinsed out her hair, then began to massage her shoulders. As
his deft fingers kneaded into her muscles, she leaned back against the side of the tub, closing her
eyes. She sighed, and opened her eyes.

“And what prompted this?” she asked.

Jean-Claude shrugged. “Nothing in particular.”

“You know this behavior could be considered very improper.”

“Perhaps. But are you not enjoying it?” He brushed his fingertips along her collarbone,
enjoying the feel of her soft skin. His ministrations tore a gasp from her throat. She was enjoying
herself very much, perhaps too much. She hoped she wasn’t developing Stockholm Syndrome.

“If you want me to dress for dinner, you have to leave,” said Anita, breathy.

Jean-Claude smiled devilishly. “I will only leave on one condition.”

Anita leaned her head back to look up at Jean-Claude. “And what is that?”

He leaned down, so their faces were very close. “A kiss,” he whispered.

Anita pecked him on the cheek. “There, now go.”

Jean-Claude raised an eyebrow. “That was not a kiss.” Anita turned around in the water to
face him.

“Of course it was.”

With a chuckle, Jean-Claude leaned in to Anita again. “I think you need a lesson in the art,”
he said, pressing his lips to hers gently. He slid his tongue between her lips, slowly. He could hear
her heart speeding up. She moaned in his mouth, pressing her lips harder against him. He drew
back quickly, not wanting her to feel his fangs. Kissing her on the forehead, he left the room.

Anita sat back in the bath, slightly jarred. It seemed she could still feel his lips on hers. A
slight shudder ran through her body. She had never felt anything like it, an intense desire to touch
Jean-Claude, to be with him. She shook it off, getting out of the bathtub.

~//~

Jean-Claude sat at his seat at the table. He decided he would pretend to eat the food
served to him, he doubted Anita would notice the fact that he failed to consume anything.
Lumiere jumped up onto the table. “How goes things with Mademoiselle Anita, Jean-Claude?”

Jean-Claude smiled. “Very well, Lumiere.”

“Oh?” The candlestick waved one of his arms. “Why? Do tell, mon ami, I must know!”

Just then Cogsworth jumped up on the table. “Through a completely ungentlemanly and
improper rendezvous!”

Jean-Claude raised his eyebrow with a smile that was wide enough to flash the tips of his
fangs. Cogsworth had always been eccentric, with a strong sense of what was proper.
“Cogsworth, do you want to be turned back human or not?”

“Of course, but—”

“Then follow my lead, my geared up friend.”

“Follow your lead?” Cogsworth started hopping up and down on the table. “Your
unkindness is what got us here in the first place! You will need our help to woo this woman,
Master.”

Jean-Claude was genuinely amused, and both the clock and the candle were surprised his
temper did not explode. “Then what is your first suggestion?” asked Jean-Claude.

Lumiere cut in. What does a clock know about love anyway? “Jean-Claude, you must
make her feel like a queen, like she is the most wonderful creature on earth. Do little things for
her, that will make her happy.”

“Like washing her hair?” Jean-Claude asked, a mischievous glint in his eye.

“Oui, like washing her hair,” Lumiere agreed, then looked puzzled.

Cogsworth was nearly jumping up and down on the table. “Washing her hair indeed! If you
merely seduce her it may not break the spell!”

Jean-Claude laughed, genuinely laughed, shocking his servants’ ears. None of them could
recall hearing him truly laugh, out of happiness. “Calm yourself, Cogsworth, I do not merely wish
to seduce her.” Licking his lips, he continued, “Although admittedly, it would be a plus. But I
think I am falling in love with her.”

“Bon!” exclaimed Lumiere. He hit Cogsworth on the head for straying from the topic.
“Give her something she would like, Jean-Claude. Something that would delight her to the core.”

“Like what? What does she like?”

Lumiere fell into deep thought. “I noticed her admiring the swords in the hall. Perhaps she
likes things of an armory genre. Looking at her personality, it would not surprise me at all.”

Jean-Claude nodded. “Then I have something magnificent in mind.” He sighed, looking at
Cogsworth’s face for the time. She should be ready by now. “Go fetch her, Cogsworth, before
dinner grows cold.”

“Perhaps you should meet her at her door, Jean-Claude. It would be a romantic gesture,”
said Cogsworth, the classic romantic.

“Non,” said Lumiere. “Wait for her at the bottom of the stairs. Let her see you admiring
her. Give her a chance to admire you. And you must lean on the railing, like this.” Lumiere leaned
on Cogsworth in a nonchalant fashion, making the clock push Lumiere away. Jean-Claude
laughed.

“If you insist, mes amis.”

     ~//~

Jean-Claude waited at the foot of the great staircase, leaning nonchalantly on the railing.
Lumiere didn’t need to tell him what pose to strike, but advice is always helpful. He checked his
clothes, straightening the black lace spilling out of his jacket sleeve. He wore a shirt identical to
the white ones he usual went about in, only this one was black, and silk. Boots encased his long
legs to the knee, his tight black pants tucking in to them. He wore a dark blue dinner jacket over
the ensemble. It hit him at mid-hip. The edges were trimmed with heavy silver embroidering. The
cuffs were wide, folding back, also embroidered with silver thread.

Hearing a door open, Jean-Claude looked to the top of the staircase. Anita soon came into
view, standing at the head of the stairs. Smiling, he admired her beauty. She had chosen to wear
a deep red dinner gown. Anita’s tiny waist pinched in, and she held up a volumous skirt with one
hand as she walked down the stairs. Her long black hair cascaded around her. The almost
burgundy red suited her pale skin and black hair wonderfully. Anita fought not to let her jaw
drop, Jean-Claude’s eyes seemed even bluer with the jacket. He was lovely.

Anita reached the bottom stair, and Jean-Claude bowed to her, taking her hand, and
pressed his lips to her knuckles. “You are the embodiment of beauty itself, ma petite.”

She bobbed her head in acknowledgement. “Thank you, Jean-Claude. You look
wonderful tonight as well.”

He smiled, offering her his arm. Anita hooked her arm in Jean-Claude’s, and he escorted
her to the dining hall.

~//~

Dinner passed wonderfully. Anita and Jean-Claude both found they liked each other, very
much. Very much indeed. But Anita noticed Jean-Claude seemed to not hardly eat anything, the
platters the servants took away were nearly full. Did he not feel well this evening, she wondered.
The dessert course was finished. In the corset, Anita had only been able to eat sparingly of each
course, but it was all delicious.

“So I hear you like weapons,” Jean-Claude said with a smile.

Anita raised an eyebrow in confusion, but answered, “Yes. A little. Why?”

“I have a gift for you.”

Chapter 3

Jean-Claude led Anita by the hand, down the hallway. “Where are we going?” she asked,
smiling.

“You’ll see,” he said. They reached a tall, sturdy door. “Now close your eyes,”
Jean-Claude instructed.

“No way!” Anita protested, laughing.

“You do not trust me?” Anita closed her eyes, still laughing silently. Jean-Claude opened
the door, and led Anita into the large room. With a wave of his arm, the chandelier above them
lit, the candlelight dancing on the many assorted blades of the armory.

“Can I open my eyes?”

“Oui.” Anita did, and her jaw dropped with surprise. The walls were covered with blades,
everything from swords to knives to battleaxes. Some were plain, and others glittered with
encrusted jewels. “It is all yours, ma petite.”

Anita spun around slowly, taking it all in. “All of it?”

“Yes, all of it.”

Anita turned to face Jean-Claude. “Why are you giving this to me? You barely know me.”

Jean-Claude shrugged, gracefully. “Because I want to make you happy.”

Anita kissed him on the cheek. “Thank you. The gift is wonderful.” Jean-Claude smiled
happily.

                         ~//~

The next night, Jean-Claude and Anita laid out before the roaring fire, enjoying its warmth.
Anita read to Jean-Claude, some tale of some prince charming. Jean-Claude wasn’t truly
listening to the story, just to the dulcet tones of Anita’s voice. He reflected back on the previous
evening. After he made the armory a gift to her, they had gone to the ballroom. They had danced,
most of the night. He had swung her petite form around the floor in circles, lifting her off the floor.
She had laughed, even giggled, a wonderful sound to his ears. She was so beautiful. After that
they had gone out to the balcony, where they sat gazing up at the stars. He remembered how soft
her hand was, when she put it in his. Her hair smelled so sweet, flung over his shoulder when she
rested her head on his shoulder. The sound of the book closing brought Jean-Claude back to
reality. “The end,” said Anita.

She rolled over the rug to Jean-Claude, resting her head on his shoulder. He smiled,
drawing her closer with an arm around her waist. He planted a soft kiss on the top of her head.
“Are you happy here, Anita?”

Anita took his hand, lacing their fingers together. “I’m very happy, Jean-Claude. But I miss
papa.”

Jean-Claude sighed. Of course she would miss her father, how could he have torn them
apart like that? “I have a way you could see your father.”

~//~

In Jean-Claude’s lair, in the west wing, Jean-Claude handed Anita the magic mirror. “Ask
it to show you your father.”

Anita raised an eyebrow, but demanded of the mirror, “Show me my father.”

Her reflection in the mirror faded to show her father, sitting in his chair before the fire,
coughing, with a blanket around him. Her eyes widened with alarm. Just the simple cold could kill
him, in a winter like this. “He’s sick, he could die,” Anita said worriedly.

Jean-Claude could not stand to see the distress in her eyes. “Then you must go to him,” he
said, quietly.

“You would let me go?” Anita asked, surprised.

“For your father, yes. It was selfish of me to keep you here, away from him.” Jean-Claude
glanced down at the floor, then back up to Anita.

Sighing, on a sudden compulsion, Anita hugged Jean-Claude, wrapping her arms around
his torso. He was surprised at the sudden display of affection, but quickly got over it, wrapping
his arms around Anita. He felt the sadness growing inside of him, once she was gone, would she
ever return to a monster? Anita turned her face up to look at him.

“Why do I only see you at night, Jean-Claude?” she asked.

Jean-Claude’s eyes widened with surprise, once again. Should he tell her about his
vampirism? About his curse? He had to, they had come so far, he couldn’t lie about things now.
He sighed. “Ma petite, many years ago, an old beggar woman came to the castle. She asked for
shelter, in exchange for a rose. I,” Jean-Claude shook his head, “I turned her away. It turned out
she was an enchantress in disguise. She placed a curse on me, and my household. All of the
talking moving objects were once people, ma petite.”

“And what does this have to do with me only seeing you after dark?”

Jean-Claude looked Anita in the eyes. Something made her resistant to their pull. “I am a
vampire, Anita. That was my part of the curse.” Jean-Claude didn’t tell Anita about the relieving
factor of the curse, the rose, and that she could free him. If she truly loved him, he wanted her to
profess it on her own, and not out of pity for him.

Anita’s next action surprised him even more than the hug. She kissed him deeply, running
her fingers through his hair. With an inarticulate groan, Jean-Claude pulled her closer to him with
hands on her tiny waist. He kissed her cheek, working his way down her neck. He could almost
taste the blood of her pulse, but he moved on, running his lips over Anita’s bare shoulder. Anita
kissed his temple, his cheek, then his lips. “Make love to me, Jean-Claude. I can go to my father
in the morning. Let’s retire to my room.”

Jean-Claude swept Anita up into his arms, making a giggle escape her lips. He carried her
effortlessly to her room, shouldering the door open, and kicking it closed behind him. Lumiere,
Cogsworth, and the other object inhabitants of the castle watched them go, and prayed tonight
would be the night they would be freed.

~//~

Jean-Claude carried Anita over to the bed, setting her down gently on the mattress. He
kissed her, a long lingering kiss. Anita’s deft fingers began to unbutton his white shirt. Standing,
Anita pulled his shirt from his pants, letting it fall to the floor. She traced her fingers over the lines
of his chest slowly, enjoying the softness of his skin. Jean-Claude kissed her deeply, reaching
around behind her, unlacing the back of her gown. He drew back to push the gown from her
shoulders, and down her body, leaving her in her corset and petticoats. She turned around, letting
Jean-Claude unlace her corsets. With that article of clothing gone, Anita turned around to face
the vampire. “You are beautiful, ma petite,” he said pressing his lips to Anita’s. During the deep
kiss Jean-Claude’s hands ran down the length of Anita’s body, pushing the petticoats to the
floor, leaving her nude before him. His hands moved back up her body, kneading into her
ribcage, then caressed her breasts. She leaned into him, rubbing her bare breasts against his
chest. She trailed her hands down his ribcage, tracing the inside of his pants with her fingers. He
walked back towards the bed, their lips still locked in their kiss, ushering her backwards. When
the backs of her knees hit the bed she was forced to sit down. Jean-Claude sat down on the
bed, removing his boots, then his pants. Anita watched, fascinated by every movement.

Jean-Claude picked her up by the backs of her thighs effortlessly, setting her gently in the
center of the bed. He leaned over her, claiming her lips in another lingering kiss. He slid his knee
between her legs, making room. Anita moaned softly. “Be gentle,” she whispered.

“With you, Anita, I would know no other way,” Jean-Claude answered, planting a soft kiss
on her shoulder.

~//~

Lumiere passed Anita’s door making his rounds, to hear very loud moans emitting from
within. Ah, l’amour. It sounded as if they were greatly enjoying themselves, he thought, continuing
on his way with a grin. And he hoped that as they made love, it was truly love.

~//~

Anita and Jean-Claude held each other close, listening to the heartbeat of the other. A fine
trembling ran through both of their bodies. Anita ran her hand through Jean-Claude’s baby fine
hair, damp with sweat, as was hers. She kissed him gently on the lips, settling in to rest her head
on his chest. He fell into slumber first, and she sat up on her elbows to look down at his sleeping
finger. He was so beautiful, so wonderful, and their embrace had been amazing. She brushed a
soft curl from his face, whispering, “I love you, Jean-Claude.”

~//~

Warm, inviting, like the warmth of the sun. Jean-Claude awoke with a start. He bolted up
in bed, a small shout emitting from his lips. He was directly in a sunbeam! And he did not burst
into flames! He stared down at Anita, still sleeping. Had she broken the spell? he asked himself
delightedly. He licked his upper row of teeth, to find normal, human eyeteeth, no fangs. Glancing
down at his arms, he observed his skin had more of a fleshy tinge to it. He had always been pale,
but not deathly so. He got out of bed, careful not to awake Anita, and pulled on a heavy ankle
length robe. He exited the room, going downstairs to check on the rest of his household.

He grinned excitedly as he entered the living room. The curtains had been opened, letting in
the bright morning sunbeams. The sun had never shined so brightly on his castle, in the past few
years of the curse. And there, in the middle of the room, stood his household in human form!

There stood Asher, once his candlestick Lumiere, Mrs. Lillian Potts, Chip, Cogsworth,
Jason, who had been turned into the doglike footstool, the footmen, the chamber maids, Julianna,
who had been turned into a feather duster. It had been very hard for Asher, to have Julianna as a
feather duster, he almost set her on fire with his candles more than once. Asher turned to
Jean-Claude. “Master! We are human, all of us once again! Anita broke the spell!”

“I what?” Anita entered the room in a dressing gown, woken by all the commotion.

Jean-Claude grinned, an honest to god toothy grin, and picked Anita up by her tiny waist,
spinning her around in a circle. He brought her to him in an embrace, speaking into her hair.
“What I did not tell you, ma petite, is that the only way the spell could be broken, would be if I
learned to love a woman, and she loved me in return, by the time the rose wilted.”

“Its last petal fell, just as we all turned into humans, I watched it!” piped in Chip.

“Then we must count our lucky blessings that Anita came to us,” said Mrs. Potts.

Jean-Claude and Anita broke away to stand next to each other. Chip hugged Anita around
her waist tightly. “I thought I heard you scream last night. I’m glad you’re alright. Thank you for
freeing us.”

Everyone chuckled at this remark. Chip turned around. “What?”

“Nothing, dear,” said Mrs. Potts quickly. Anita and Jean-Claude exchanged a heated gaze.

“I still need to go to my father, Jean-Claude.”

“Of course, ma petite. If you do not mind, I would love to go with you.” He wet his lips,
something Anita had noticed he only did when he was nervous. “I fear I have some apologizing to
do. We shall bring him back here. He will want for nothing.”

Anita nodded. “I think he would like that.”

----------

Anita and Jean-Claude exited the castle, arm in arm, walking to the stables. The snow had
melted, the leaves on the trees grew out. No forlorn howls echoed from the forest, which now
looked lush and inviting.

Anita saddled Philippe, her faithful steed, and mounted the large horse. Jean-Claude drew
his favorite horse out of its stall, a lean black gelding. He mounted his horse, and they trotted off,
waving to the household squeezed in the door to wave goodbye.

Flowers bloomed in a thick carpet on the forest floor. Jean-Claude leaned down in the
saddle, plucking one and handing it to Anita. She smiled, tucking it behind her ear. The small
flower was a dark purple, matching her dress. Jean-Claude was glad the wolves had quitted this
area of the forest, he doubted he had much control of them anymore. Although he had retained
some of his strength, he could feel it in his muscles.

The couple stopped to rest, sitting on the railing of a small stone bridge, a blue stream
running under them. Jean-Claude pulled Anita closer than she already was with an arm around
her waist. He took her hand, and kissed her temple. He spoke into her hair, “I love you, so
much, Anita. I never want to leave your side.”

Leaning her head on Jean-Claude’s shoulder, she said, “Then we’re on the same page.”

Jean-Claude chuckled, leaning his head on Anita’s. “Well then, if I’m not mistaken, the
next page of the storybook is that you become my queen. Then there’s a happily ever after
somewhere in there.”

“Your queen? I thought you were ONLY a prince,” Anita jived.

“Indeed. But my father can’t live forever, now can he? Well, unless he became a vampire
too, but its highly unlikely.”

“Hark! Trespassers, leave!” said a finicky voice behind the couple. Jean-Claude turned to
face the little man, an amused smile graced his lips. He stood from his seat, to face the shepard.

“Would you deny your prince a rest on a long journey?” he asked.

The man peered closer, then a pure statement of fear overtook his features. He dropped to
his knees, bowing his head. “Your eminence, it has been so long since anyone has seen you, I did
not recognize you. But for my folly I know I must die.”

Jean-Claude raised an eyebrow. Had he really been so cruel in past years? “Rise, mon bon
homme, please, it is nothing. I forgive you.”

The little man stood, a surprised statement on his face. “Thank you, your majesty.” He
bowed deeply, and wandered away.

“Wow,” was all Anita said before mounting her horse.

~//~

The couple rode into the town. The villagers were happy to see Anita, the odd one, back in
town. “Bonjour,” they called out to her. The villagers stared in awe at the beautiful stranger with
her. Richard noticed his quarry was back, and felt a pang of jealousy for the man riding beside
her. This newcomer was even as beautiful as…dare he say it…himself?

“Who is that man beside her?” he asked his tiny sidekick Micah, le fou (the fool).

Micah shrugged. “I don’t know, but he’s as pretty as she is. Maybe you’ll have better
chances with him.” Micah chuckled at his joke, and Richard promptly bashed him on the head.
Micah, quickly recovered, used to being slapped around by Richard.

Richard strode out of the shop in his arrogant manner, catching Anita’s bridle. “Hello,
Anita. Glad to have you back. Your father came into the tavern not too long ago wailing about
some monster who was keeping you prisoner. Crazy old man.”

Anita frowned. “I know what you say about my father behind his back, Richard, but do
you have to say it to my face?”

Richard shrugged, an arrogant baring of teeth on his lips. Jean-Claude’s horse pawed the
earth impatiently. Jean-Claude agreed with the animal, he did not care for this arrogant man
either. “So, who’s your friend?” Richard nodded his head in Jean-Claude’s direction.

Anita was about to answer, when Jean-Claude cut in. “I can see my reputation does not
precede me.” Richard looked confused. Too many big words in one sentence. “It is probably for
the better, I would not want to frighten you,” Jean-Claude said, his old arrogance coming back in
a moment of annoyance.

“Excuse me, Richard, I really must get to my father,” Anita said, and urged her horse on.
Philippe was a large enough mount that either Richard would let go of the bridle, or Philippe
would walk over him. Richard chose to let go, and watched the two ride past. Neither had
answered the question of who the man with Anita was.

Micah noticed Richard’s angry glare. “Don’t worry Richard, he’s just a little guy. You can
show him who’s boss sometime soon.”

Richard nodded, but wasn’t sure if it was such a good idea. The man had a regal,
dangerous air to him, like a noble, or even a prince. Was he the prince who had secluded himself
in the castle, way up in the mountains? And had only come out, for HIS Anita? Richard growled.
He would show the pompous ass who was boss indeed.

~//~

Jean-Claude and Anita reached the small cottage. It looked the same as Anita had left it.
They stabled their horses, and went inside the house to find Maurice sleeping. “If you would go
get some firewood, Jean-Claude, I’ll build up a fire and make father some soup.”

Jean-Claude nodded, going outside. He went around to the back of the cottage, where he
assumed the firewood pile would be. He found the firewood, but also that arrogant man who had
been ogling Anita. “May I ask what you are doing here?” Jean-Claude asked.

“I could ask the same question.”

Jean-Claude crossed his arms. “I was invited. Were you?”

Richard avoided the question. “Who are you?”

“My name is Jean-Claude.”

“Richard.” Richard held out a hand to shake, trying to win Jean-Claude over. Jean-Claude
stared at the hand, making no move to take it. Richard quickly moved it back to his side, and
leaned on the firewood pile. “Anita is beautiful, isn’t she?”

Raising his eyebrow, Jean-Claude answered, “Oui, but you must scratch below the surface
to truly appreciate her.”

“Oh, I’ve gotten below the surface, many times,” Richard lied, not fooling Jean-Claude.
“And she’s mine, make no mistake of it.”

“As I am sure it is not the first time for you, Richard, you are sorely mistaken.”

Richard bared his teeth, Jean-Claude wasn’t sure if it was a smile or a snarl. “Do you
honestly think she could love a pompous ass like you, when she could have me?”

Jean-Claude laughed, truly amused. He was no longer a vampire, the laugh no longer had
texture to it, but it was a delicious sound all the same. “Ah, but this pompous ass has a castle.”

“I have a hunting lodge.”

“I have a forest.”

“I have a pond.”

“I have a crown.” Richard paused on that one. He had nothing of the equivalent.
Jean-Claude moved towards the firewood pile. “If you would excuse me, monsieur…”
Jean-Claude dismissed Richard, making him angrier.

“Isn’t is below the prince’s station to be carrying firewood?”

Jean-Claude smiled to himself, shaking his head. “I would scrub floors on my hands and
knees for Anita.”

“I like Anita better when SHE’S on her hands and knees,” Richard remarked.

“Intelligence, eludes you, doesn’t it, *mon bon homme? You have insulted moi, le
*Dauphin, and Anita, the woman I love, more than once in less than 5 minutes.”

Richard glared at Jean-Claude. Stalking away, he threw over his shoulder, “This isn’t
finished, your majesty.” The words your majesty was dripping with sarcasm.

Jean-Claude frowned at the retreating man, he was going to be trouble, he could tell.

*mon bon homme- my good man, a menial dismissing term for someone of lower station.

*Dauphin-literally, dolphin, it’s the French term for the heir to the throne.

Chapter 5

Jean-Claude sat on the old wagon, looking up at the stars. After only being human for a
few days, he still felt more comfortable in the darkness of the night.

“In exchange for shelter, I shall give you a rose,” cackled a voice.

Jean-Claude turned to see the old hag that had cursed him, years ago.

“Can I help you?” he asked, being hospitable. But despite of it, a thin thread of anger cut
through his voice.

“Now now, don’t be angry.” The enchantress in disguise sat down next to Jean-Claude on
the back of the cart. “It all turned out in the end, didn’t it? I knew it would.”

“You knew? Then why bother cursing me, and my household?”

“My young prince, you had to pay penitence for your surly behavior. Besides, I know
many things, Jean-Claude.”

Jean-Claude raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“Such as, I know you miss being a vampire.”

Jean-Claude sighed. “Only the advantages. But I would not give the sun up for the world.”

“Reasonable. After all, you already have a country at your fingertips.”

“Only when my father passes.”

“He will, very soon. He is very sick, Jean-Claude. It will only be a year or so
more.” Jean-Claude widened his eyes. He hadn’t spoken to his father in years. “You have turned
into a good soul, Jean-Claude, so I have a gift for you.”

“Oh? And what would that be? Forgive me for being wary of your gifts.”

“Not fair, Jean-Claude. Without me Anita would have never come your way. Jean-Claude,
I offer you the advantages of vampirism, without the drawbacks.”

“Why? Why would you do that for me?”

“Much awaits you on the road ahead, my prince. You will have more to protect than just a
country from the forces of evil.”

“Anita.”

“Yes, but more like the gift she carries inside her.”

Jean-Claude raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

“I mean your unborn son, Jean-Claude.”

“My unborn son?”

“Yes, Anita is with child as we speak.”

Jean-Claude smiled widely. He and Anita were having a son! A prince! And he knew
before Anita did! Should he keep it a secret, he thought. Probably, she would find out soon
enough on her own. Then they could pretend to be surprised together. Jean-Claude chuckled at
the thought. The enchantress interrupted his thoughts, “But there are those who will not take the
news too kindly, that arrogant Richard, for example.”

“Yes, I suppose that would infuriate that man.”

“So do you want the gift, or not, my prince? I will day, your petite dauphin will be very
important to the future of Francois. War is coming, many years from now. We will lead our
country to victory and glory.”

Jean-Claude chuckled. “Against the British or the Spanish?”

“Both, actually. Well, Jean-Claude, what do you say?”

“To protect my son, I would have to say yes.”

“Then give me your hand.”

Jean-Claude did, cautiously, still wary of the cunning enchantress. She took her hand away,
leaving an apple in his hand, conjured of thin air. “Eat this before sunrise, and the deed will be
done.”

Jean-Claude looked at the enchantress sincerely. “You swear to me I will be able to go out
in the day, and NOT have to drink blood?”

“I swear it. Go ahead, Jean-Claude, eat it now.”

Jean-Claude took a bite of the red apple, and the enchantress disappeared. Eating the
apple down to the core, he even ate that, just to be sure of the enchantress’s instructions. He felt
a tingling rush through his bones, an energy that most humans cannot feel. They all have it,
vampires just have the essence to an amplified extent.

He had learned a great deal this night. Anita would bear him a son. France would go to
war in probably the next 50 years, with both Spain, and England. That would certainly be a
strain. When he became king, he would begin fortifying the borders slowly, so as not to alarm
either the Brits, or the Spicks.

Jean-Claude went back into the cottage. Both Anita and her father were asleep. He was
grateful Maurice had forgiven him for his cruelty, he had suspicions Anita had explained the spell
to the old man. Tomorrow they would leave for his castle. Neither Maurice, nor Anita would
have to deal with the judgmental eyes of the villagers again. And in Anita’s case, the oogling eyes
of that Richard character.

What had the enchantress meant about that fellow? Surely, even he would not harm a child.
But jealousy is a dangerous animal, it will drive rational people to irrational acts. But, if it were as
it seemed, and Richard was already in the clouds, then Jean-Claude would keep a watchful eye
out.

Walking into Anita’s bedroom, Jean-Claude shut the door quietly behind him. He crawled
into bed with Anita, wrapping a protecting arm around her waist. She snuggled into him in her
sleep, making Jean-Claude’s lips curve into a smile. Perhaps he should have thanked the
enchantress for the gift of Anita. Ah well, too late now. Jean-Claude lightly touched Anita’s lower
stomach, where he knew another little life was growing, that they had created. Would he be
Jean-Claude Jr.? Non, that had been done too many times before.