divinetree | "Crazy" Beauty and the "Hunter" Beast

"Crazy" Beauty and the "Hunter" Beast

Once upon a time, in a faraway land, a cruel Prince lived in a shining castle surrounded by rich hunting lands.
Although he had everything his heart desired, the Prince was paranoid, selfish, and cruel.

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.

None know for sure what happened that night. Some say the Prince turned her away for her appearance, and others claim he attempted to harm her... the beggar-woman melted away her disguise to reveal a beautiful Enchantress.

As punishment for his loveless heart and vicious cruelty, the Enchantress transformed him into a hideous Beast, and placed a powerful spell on the castle, and all who lived there.

Ashamed of his monstrous form, the Beast 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 30th 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 beast for all time.

As the years passed, he fell into despair, and lost all hope. For who could ever learn to love a Beast?

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Alastor's lip curled, and there was a slight hiss of an intake of breath - but he held back any further sounds of discomfort in favor of sneering at the man currently carefully blotting mud out of his bite wounds.

"You don't even realize the damage you could have done. Be grateful I am so magnanimous to have only roared at you. I could have easily broken you even more easily than I had the dresser I'd thrown instead."

Whoogh... wolf claws and mouths were pretty dirty, no doubt. He would continue to dip the rag into the basin, wring it out and press on.

But he frowned thoughtfully. "Well, I'd be- I'd be pretty dead if you didn't show up, and I'm grateful. Thank you. But, why did you save me?"

"Why else? You're mine," Alastor answered flatly.

His gaze scattered. Despite everything that had been happening, his stupid body betrayed him by warming the color in his face.

"Whuh-why'd- sheesh, don't say stuff like that..."

Oh, that's an interesting reaction. He'd expected anger, frustration, 'you don't own me!', something like that.

But flustered, embarrassed? Did this little man agree?

What a strange little creature. Alastor just chuckled - the wounds were egregious, but worth it in the end. It would've been a shame to lose such a baffling little man.

He's so WEIRD, why is he weird!? Like it wasn't even the 'cursed monster' thing... really, he was pretty used to the cursed monster thing.

But he didn't need to be so angry. Yeah, he went where he wasn't supposed to, but what did he mean by 'damage caused'? Everything in that room was busted to hell and back.

...

But what was that flower...?

He tightened his jaw and snorted. No, he wasn't in the mood for another 'roaring'. He focused on cleaning up, but kept his memory of that strange rose in the back of his mind.

Alastor stayed still and quiet as Lucifer tended to him. Those mechanist hands were gentle... well, this man was a father. He'd have to have learned to be gentle if he ever bothered with his child... which he had, from the sounds of it.

As Lucifer kept soaking, wiping and touching him up, the prince's mind wandered and idly he plucked at the blond hair, flicking aside the dead leaves that'd gotten tangled up from him getting dragged to the ground.

He had grown deeply focused on his task, and was reminded of the times he'd bandaged a badly skinned knee or the one time the neighbors' rooster had given Charlie the roughest time. Lucifer had never felt such a bone-deep anger toward a barn animal, but roosters had those awful talons, and those terrible spurs...

He blinked, but lifted his eyes when he felt something touch his hair. Something came out, and he realized he hadn't really checked himself in all of the hustle of getting the prince back to the castle.

Shamefully, he was reminded of a time he'd tested something to help with wood-cutting, and round up with countless pine needles in his hair, his pockets... and how Lilith would stop him and make sure every last one was cleared. Other nights, he would simply be curled up against her, and she would be stroking his head as he fell asleep- as he always did- each and every time.

"...You shouldn't sleep in a room that looks like that."

Alastor kept plucking at the messy hair, smiling in amusement, even huffing a wry laugh at that comment. "That's not your room and therefore not your concern."

"But you're a prince. ...At the very least, a room you sleep in should be a place of comfort and look the part."

He'd taken that fragile trust and sullied it. Maybe this was the least he could do.

"...Let me fix what's broken. The table I saw, a new dresser. Some chairs in there looked okay, but need a sanding and a polish."

"Fixing furniture that I've broken? Or are you looking for an excuse to be nosy about my quarters?"

Alastor scoffed, leaning back to look at this strange little inventor. Why did he want to supplicate so much? So so strange and funny.

"Regardless, it isn't a discussion until this heals," Alastor tapped at Lucifer's wounded arm with a claw. "There's no humor in you limping and wincing through menial tasks."

That smarted a bit and he flinched. It had been enough that his fingers felt a bit numb from the pain shooting up.

Fair enough. Fair enough.

"It's not- it's not nosiness...! I just need things to do. I'm busted up, so it's not like I can fly, and... that's why you're paying me in the first place."

"I'm paying you because you're amusing."

He took a finger and used it to sloooowly ease his hand away from his head.

"Be that as it may... after all of that, we should be taking it easy, yes, but I don't like having idle hands."

Not doing something means he'll get lost in his head and this was the last place he wanted to be for that.

"There is a whole library you can peruse instead. A book or two won't be heavy enough to throw out your shoulder," Alastor rolled his eyes, settling back in his chair a bit.

"..Wait. Seriously?" He blinked up at him.

"Like an actual library? Not a collection of really old books that'll just fall apart if I touch them?"

"I take good care of my library, thank you. My mother adored her collection."

He stared, then he shook his head to clear it.

"I... always read about wall-to-wall libraries with too many books to read, so they just sit and go forgotten and rot away. Tragic, really. But if you have a ton of readable books, I... might... have just filled my next week or so of time entirely."

"Don't get blood on it, you'll undo the charms keeping them intact," Alastor warned, nodding approvingly at Niffty, who'd arrived with a needle and thread. "Husker, bring out the hard liquor," the prince ordered as he tried very carefully to thread the small needle.

"Whadda you mean-" He blinked with a tickle, turned, and noticed his arm's scuffs and punctures had caught on to the warm environment. The blood had begun to run in earnest.

"Gah-! Okay, okay..." The prince's arm was in better shape anyway. He took a moment to fix up his own and get that wrapped up before he somehow gets blood on a rug that was likely worth ten times that of his cottage at home.

"...What's the story behind the art piece you had, anyway?" It was out before he could stop it. Because his mouth liked to run when he was distracted, or nervous. Or on days that end with 'y'.

"My mother had many portraits of herself and I," Alastor answered without missing a beat - even if he clearly knew that Lucifer was referring to the rose. Leaning back and tipping an entire bottle of what smelled almost like paint thinner down his gullet, Alastor exhaled and gave Niffty the go-ahead to start stitching up.

"...Right..." You clawed those up, though. You stinker.

To make up for it, he would soak a new rag and wring it out. Because he's a stinker, the inventor climbed the chair a bit to wipe off the prince's scuffed, muddy face.

Excuse??? Alastor froze, still as a deer - he couldn't move with Niffty jabbing a needle in him lest he tear something, and no one dared get that close to his face willingly. The Beast just stared at this strange little man, ears pinned back but otherwise too utterly stunned to even sneer or growl.

"Sheesh, you keep a whole castle and enough money to last yourself several lifetimes, but you decide to sass when you're a mud pie-"

Yet he only applied enough pressure to get off what was needed. It'd just itch later otherwise, and one had to check and see if any of the wolves managed to catch him in the face.

There was a bit of a gash on his jaw where a wolf caught him, though it wasn't terribly deep compared to the other deep bites. Alastor hushed up, bewildered with how... voluntarily close... and not helped by Niffty humming a little tune as she happily stitched up a gash on his side that he had to be completely still for.

This... little... fragile, petite blond weirdo........!!

"Crazy" Beauty and the "Hunter" Beast

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