Beauty & Cruelty Read online

  At her full power, she could break through the gates if she wished, or gather enough strength to pass through subtly with magic. As things were, though...

  She slipped away from the camping groups before they could notice her and moved away from the gates, circling around until she was behind the castle. Then, steeling herself, she rolled up her sleeves and pant legs and started to climb the stone wall.

  It was rough going, but not impossible; finally she reached the top and dropped down on the other side, landing with a decidedly un-fairy-like ungainliness, foot turning under her as she dropped and landed on her ass. She swore, managing at least to keep it quiet, and sneaked around to the well to draw a drink.

  That was worth the price of admission. The cool, refreshing water seemed to sink into her skin from the inside out, even the blood inside herself tingling as it carried the concept of rejuvenation throughout her. It only refreshed her body, not her spirit or energy, but that was enough right now. She took another gulp, then a third, and only then headed into the castle.

  The door creaked as it opened and she wasn't surprised when, a few moments later, she saw a figure glancing down from the stairwell.

  "Hello, Martin," she called. "How goes it?"

  He hesitated, brows drawn down, then stepped out to the top of the stairs. "Well, I'm not exactly complaining, especially after what I've been seeing outside, but it's not exactly great either?"

  He was quite clearly significantly better rested and better dressed than he had been when she'd seen him last. She hadn't been wrong in her guess that the Beast would dig up some old finery; Martin was wearing a pair of fitted breeches, a loose white shirt, and a pale green frock coat. He looked quite handsome in it, and she clucked her tongue. "Look at you," she said. "Don't you clean up nicely?"

  "When I'm not scratched up and bloody and drenched in my own sweat? Sure," he said, both put-upon and flattered at the same time. "What are you here for, Rue?"

  "What, can't I check on you? You know, just because I wasn't in any state to keep an eye on you doesn't mean I don't want to see how you're doing," she said, mock-hurt.

  He was quiet a moment, dark eyes searching her face from the top of the stairs, and then he sighed, keeping a hand on the rail as he came down to meet her properly. "Look, do you want a cup of tea or something?"

  "I..." She startled herself with the sudden tight sensation in her chest and throat, another emotion she didn't want to think about or name. "I would love a cup of tea."

  He led her through the halls to the Beast's kitchen; it was a bit dusty, but showed signs of recent use and cleaning. Settling right in then, she thought as she sat at the table. He filled a kettle with a pump, and set it on the stove.

  "Things are weird here," he said, after the silence lingered on for a bit. "But I guess you'd know all about that."

  "I know," she said. "Well, I lived out there a while too, you know. The human world. So I can compare."

  "Did you?"

  Something about the dubiousness of his voice made her laugh a little under her breath. "Lady Cruelty, evil fairy, flipping burgers and handing out coffees. Doesn't sound very plausible, does it?"

  "I... I wouldn't expect it, no," he said.

  "People don't," she agreed. It was a little easier saying it to him than it had been to show Talia. Talia was someone she'd always known over here; he, however, was human. He knew what the work force was like, knew about the daily grind in a way that the ones who'd never left this place never could. "This place kind of turned into a dump, so I thought I'd try my hand at the land of opportunity."

  "But you came back," he said.

  "Mm." She bit the inside of her cheek, watching him get down jars and scoop out tea that was probably excessively stale by now. She decided not to check, shifted in her chair. "I didn't come here to talk about me."

  "We can't always do what we meant to," he said, dryly. "Or, you know, my life would be pretty different right now."

  "Is it so bad?" she asked, leaning her chin on the palm of her hand.

  He sighed, poured water over the strainer, watched it steam. "It's not... bad," he said, begrudgingly. "Despite his looks, he's a pretty good guy. He's very... perceptive, I guess. When I want to be alone, he picks up on it fast and goes off to do his own thing, but when I start to feel lonely or at a loss, I guess he notices me wandering around and joins me. We play games, and talk, and... stuff like that."

  "Too bad about his looks," Cruelty said.

  He shrugged, awkwardly. "I'd rather do the ugly-outside, good-inside thing than the other way around, honestly. But I don't know if I can trust him."

  "Don't you? Has he done anything suspicious?"

  He brought over two cups of teas, sat down across from her. He too seemed to be feeling that sense of, if not kinship, familiarity. They both knew both worlds, at least a little, and she'd helped him out of his situation even if she got him into another. That was its own kind of bond, she supposed.

  "It's not that he's suspicious... well, maybe a little," he said, indecisive, and cupped his hands around the cup. She lifted her own cup. Sure enough, it smelled stale. "He's really a perfect gentleman to me, like I said. I actually do enjoy his company? I kind of feel awful about how hard it is to look at him and I'm sort of... getting used to that too. But... you know that saying, 'don't judge a guy on how he treats you, but how he treats your waiter?'"

  "Boy, do I," she said, twisting her lips and trying not to think of the burger shop. "So he treats others badly?"

  "I don't know," he said. "I do know there's a lot of space in here, and apparently there's a lot of people outside who need places to go, and he's not letting them in. And he's not letting me out. Even if he's great company, I kind of can't forget I'm his prisoner here? Thanks to you, by the way."

  She sipped her tea despite her misgivings. "Oh trust me, it's much better than being mine," she said.

  Martin made a low huffing sound. "You know, I'll believe that. You sure enjoyed trying to scare me. But the point is, I know he could extend help to those people and he doesn't. And look, I get this, I know what's going on here. It's Beauty and the Beast. I'm not all up on my fairy tales, but I didn't live under a rock. This makes me Beauty, apparently, and by the way, that's pretty weird. He's the Beast. I'm trapped in here until I either fall in love with him and break the spell or don't and... and I don't know what, I'm sent out there to join the people around the gates, I guess? The pressure here is kind of intense."

  "I don't think he expects you to fall in love with him," Cruelty said. "I don't think he expects anything at all."

  "But we're doing this thing anyway, aren't we? We're acting this out even if he feels it's hopeless, and knowing that I'm his captive and being treated nicely for a reason... yeah, I can't avoid reacting to that, but there's a term for that, isn't there? Something Syndrome?"

  "Stockholm Syndrome," she provided. For stale tea, it wasn't bad.

  "Yeah, that."

  Cruelty wrinkled her nose, thinking. "I don't think it's that," she said. "I mean, yes, the power imbalance between you two is something else. But you're self-aware and watching your own reactions. If anyone's having Stockholm Syndrome these days, it's the other Beauty."

  "Other...?" He sounded concerned, suddenly.

  "Oh, no replacement for you, don't worry," she said, and laughed. "No, I mean... never mind. She's someone I know, that's all. I've hurt her and will continue to. That's kind of our thing, but she's gotten all... strange about it. She's reaching out to me for help lately."

  "Sleeping Beauty," Martin said.

  Cruelty let out a sigh. "That's right."

  "You're Maleficent."

  "Teeech... nically," Cruelty said, making another face. "That word actually just means 'something evil', you know? Something with cruel intentions."

  "Cruelty."

  "Yes."

  Martin looked at his tea, then took a swig. It was hot, but he swallowed it down anyway. "This is so fucked up," he said.


  "Why don't you just talk to him?" Cruelty suggested. "He's in his story, and you're in it with him. All we are, really, are words, so..." She shrugged. "He's not a dishonest fellow, unlike me."

  "Don't tell me to do something and then tell me you're dishonest," he protested.

  She laughed, and they talked a little longer as she finished her tea, and then she got up to leave while Martin stayed behind, starting to make his—maybe their—dinner.

  Outside the kitchen, the Beast was lingering in shadows. She wondered if he had been listening in on them, but he was a gentleman; perhaps he just knew she was in his home and was waiting to speak to her.

  "Cruelty."

  "No business today, Beast," she said. "Just checking on the young sir."

  "Is he well?" The Beast asked, after a moment.

  "Why are you asking me?"

  The Beast hesitated. "I don't think I could ask him and guarantee an answer."

  "Ask him anyway," she said, and left.

  She grew tired on her walk back, and Talia's castle was nearby; that, she told herself, was the reason she went there. Her castle, unlike the Beast's, was packed full of travelers. The great hall was set up like an impromptu refugee camp. Other Archetypes had arrived, and were helping out—there an elegant deer directing things, a crying girl serving stew with a yellow bird circling over her head, an ugly wench wrapped in a donkey's skin listening to people's concerns and answering them in a braying voice. Of course Talia would need the others' help dealing with new arrivals. She herself couldn't leave her room and could only speak to them herself if and when they went up there.

  Cruelty passed through the group and went upstairs.

  Talia was alone in her room for now, though she'd probably have people coming and going at all hours. Her form on the bed was, as always, in repose. Cruelty came over and sat next to her, brushing her hair back.

  "Thank you." Talia's voice came from the main part of the room behind her, and Cruelty didn't turn to look.

  "I didn't do it for you."

  Talia's voice was dismissive. "Who did you do it for, then?" she asked. And then, without waiting for an answer: "Thank you, Cruelty. Rue. I heard you collapsed... you could have died, for a place you already had given up on, but... maybe we have a chance now. It's going to be hard, but you gave us a chance. Thank you."

  That honest gratitude, that sympathy, grated. Cruelty's heart was pounding hard in some kind of fight or flight reaction. She thought, don't treat me so nicely, gave Talia's hair a yank, and left the room again without answering her.

  Chapter Ten

  If she'd hoped for privacy when she got home, she'd forgotten that her home was no longer just her own. It wasn't just Sixth and the Cat there; Sixth had started to let in humans as well. Though perhaps that was just as well. It was bound to happen sooner or later, given the desperation she'd seen for shelter, and it was easier if she wasn't the one who had to deal with it, if she just had to accept what had already occurred.

  So she just nodded to people as she passed on the way up to her room, and unlocked her door the old-fashioned way—with a key.

  But before she could enter, Sixth came up behind her, the Cat tucked in his wing like a baby in a sling. "Lady Cruelty," Sixth said. "I'm sorry. I know I should have consulted with you, but of course you were out, and sending them away was also something I'd need to consult with you on—"

  "Never mind it," Cruelty said, briskly. "Let's just make sure we don't take on more than we can manage and get driven out, the way you did from your own cabin."

  "Er... yes," Sixth said. She went into her room; he followed behind, apparently unfinished. "You're not angry?"

  "I'm not even sure I have the energy to be angry," she admitted with a low laugh, ducking her head. "I'm still tired."

  Sixth winced. "So walking was a poor idea."

  "It was a fine idea. I may be better than I was before I left, even if that's not much to speak of. Regardless, it was my idea, and there was no stopping me," Cruelty said firmly. "I'm just tired regardless."

  "Myself as well," Sixth said, and sank into one of her chairs. Cruelty looked at them—the prince slung out in her chair as if he belonged there, the fat cat shifting into his lap as if it belonged there—and just kind of perched on the edge of her bed. She wasn't sure what to really do with this sight before her. He smiled at her, apparently unaware of her confusion. "Was your trip at least successful, Lady Cruelty?"

  "I suppose that depends on what you mean by success," she said, trying to dismiss her own sudden sense of displacement, of not belonging anywhere. And then, because he was there anyway: "Can I run something by you?"

  He sat up a little more in his surprise, then winced again as the Cat dug his claws in for balance. "Certainly," he said. "I mean, if I can help."

  Cruelty pursed her lips. How much she could say was by nature limited by it being her and Talia's private plan. Regardless of how it went, it certainly wasn't something that should be bandied around. If the one in charge of all of this was shown to be a manipulator—even with a good goal in mind—the already uneasy groups of humans would probably find her shelter even less appealing than they did already. Many of them were likely already suspecting that she and others like her were responsible for their arrival. Correctly, of course.

  "One of the first people to arrive here," she said instead, "ended up coming to me for help. Naturally, I didn't want to. I foisted him off on someone else. But I've checked in on him now and then, and I feel like he wants to get along with the person I foisted him off on, but... how do you overcome the burden of trust and acceptance when you have a rough start, or an imbalance of power? When one controls the other's autonomy, and is bound by our rules to keep things a certain way?"

  "Our rules..." Sixth repeated it thoughtfully, petting the Cat—Tom, she thought, though she wasn't sure. He ignored as the Cat started gnawing, with the side of his mouth, on a feather again. "I honestly don't know, Cruelty, and I wish I did. For me, even communication seems impossible."

  Cruelty sighed, crossing her legs. "With your lady swan."

  "With my Lady Odette, yes," he said. "I sympathize with Odile, and I do bear affection for her, but I cannot return her feelings because I love Odette. But I can't answer whether Odette loves me. Even if I commit to Odette, I do not know whether she wishes me to or if the devotion is unwanted. Perhaps the concept is even complicated; she may want the devotion, lonely and separated as she is, but not the love. But I could not bear to overthrow her for Odile while I love her. I could love Odile, I think, but as things are, I cannot offer my love to Odile."

  Somehow, the conversation had immediately become about their love life again. Cruelty didn't mind, at least not as much as she'd expected to. It was on his mind, and it was reasonable enough that the idea of talking about another person's complicated situation would be impossible when struggling with his own still. But he'd managed to frustrate her desire to talk about herself. She sighed.

  "That's plenty of reason to take no action at all," she said. "But if the person I'm talking about took no action at all, would anything change...?"

  "Things can change with time, can't they?" Sixth said uncertainly. "If a situation changes around you, then your own situation may change. After all, with no moon, Odette can only be a swan, and cannot communicate. If a moon returns, the situation will change again."

  Cruelty shrugged, thinking it through. "You're not wrong," she said. "And I can imagine a few ways that doing nothing could change this, but I'm not sure what kind of guarantee that is. If nothing else, there's no controlling any change that just 'happens'."

  "We're not meant to control things," he said. "But you're right that it seems like the changes that will happen through passivity alone are negative changes. Perhaps the moon wasn't a great example."

  "Perhaps not," she agreed.

  The Cat decided to join the conversation, letting out an unnecessarily noisy yawn. His whiskers flared, front legs sticking o
ut stiffly and claws spreading. "You're both being so stupid," he sighed.

  Sixth stopped petting him. "I don't see why," he said. "It's a perfectly valid situation to discuss and... well... a perfectly valid situation to be concerned about."

  "Oh yes, valid," the Cat said, and licked his shoulder for a few moments. Then: "But you're just talking yourselves in circles."

  "What would a cat do, then?" Cruelty asked.

  "Do what you want," the Cat said. "Take what you want."

  "It's not that easy," Sixth protested. "There are feelings to consider, and doing what you want with one person can harm another, or be tied up in—well, with Lady Cruelty's example, if there's a power imbalance, is the one of them with less power really safe if they choose to do what they want?"

  The Cat shrugged and sat up, tail flopping repeatedly with his agitation. "You can argue that as much as you want, but the fact is you're not doing anything," he said. "However many feelings you have on a thing means nothing if you just let it hang there. You can get bitten if you go after a mouse, but if you don't go after a mouse, no mouse will get caught."

  "I'm not sure you could catch any mice in the shape you're in," Cruelty said.

  The Cat fixed her with an unblinking, offended stare, "I can catch any mouse I choose to," he said with dignity. "Any mouse I do not catch, I've chosen not to. If I choose to let it go by, that's a choice. If I choose to catch it, that's a choice. Take a good look at your mice and decide what you want to do, but what good is it to sit around sighing, 'there's a mouse, there's a mouse, what will I do with this mouse'...? No good. Your mice will all go and hide and you'll be left hungry."

  And with that, he hopped down heavily and, tail held high, marched to Cruelty's door, shoved it open with his face, and slid fatly out.

  Sixth looked at Cruelty and shrugged helplessly. "It's easy for a cat to say, but not so valid unless all your problems are mice."

  "Oh well," Cruelty said, tone dismissive even as she turned the words over in her mind. "That's what we get for asking a cat's opinion on things."