❝ 𝔅𝔩𝔬𝔬𝔡 𝔣𝔬𝔯 ℑ𝔫𝔨 ❞
"Lord, what fools these mortals be!"
—Shakespeare, Midsummer Night's Dream
⚜
A cool, early winter's wind hissed through the silent marble halls of the abandoned mountain castle. The silence was abundant, thick. As if a lack of sound could have form, substance. Several winters ago, a portion of the entrance hall caved in under the weight of a
deadly snowstorm. Life grew in the void. A graceful weeping willow grew seemingly overnight, as if nature itself was trying to bandage
the wounds time dealt to the once glorious Licorne chateau. Meadow and lemongrass grew in around the willow, filling the entry with
sweet, earthen scents. Velvet lichen kissed the broken stone walls. "There is magic in the marble." Her mother's voice, an echo
from the past reminded her. A gentle fern nudged her legs as Belle stood before the great willow. A bramble of roses had grown into
their full glory last year. The deep pink and crimson blooms protected the ruined castle from the worst of winter's wrath. Belle stood
before this wild tangle of nature's beauty with her hands folded in front of her, a melancholic expression on her fine features. She
reached out toward the largest rose bloom, caressing its silky head fondly. She let her fingers trail lower, making no sound when the
bladed thorns sliced deep into her palm flesh. The doe dutifully let the drops of blood fall unto the leaves, like a haunting rain.
"You must remember to feed the roses in winter." Her people were known for their winter roses, the seemingly delicate flower that
could live in the coldest places. It was their Licorne magic that fed the roses, and their thorns protected the palace for centuries. Belle had
read about her people's lethal roses. She knew that within the bramble, behind the marvelous blossoms, lie a nest of aggressor vines with
blade-like thorns, three inches long and absolutely lethal, ready to rise up and defend the castle walls. Once, nearly seven hundred years
ago when there was more magic in the world, and the Licorne barrier had not been created, an army invaded their lands. The Licornes wisely
retreated back into the mountain palace, and the enemy, unschooled in their delicate prey's history, tried to breach the walls of the chateau.
Winter roses crawled up the sides of the castle as the Licorne people within fed them their magic, until the entire palace was covered with
deadly ruby florets. The enemies, unwittingly tried to scale the walls. An army of a thousand men were killed in a single night. Snow fell
that night and the roses fed on the blood of their enemies. Such was the powerful magic of her people and the roses that adorned the
Licorne house sigil.
"But I do not have any magic," Belle whispered to herself, brushing a bright swath of blood
over the prettiest rose, watching the ruby liquid sink into the hungry petal. One of the rose vines,
heavily bladed with thorns moved, wrapping around the princess' wrist with cautious thirst.
"No," Belle said quietly but sternly. The vine paused, and then recoiled, folding back into the brambles obediently. She remembered
when she was younger, and the vines would ravage her wrists, sinking their thorny fangs into her and only stopping when she cried out in
pain. The first time she'd fed the winter roses, left her wrists mangled for weeks. Belle knew better now. She stroked the chastised rose like
a faithful dog and then pulled her hand back, wrapping it with bandages she'd brought for this purpose.
Born to the most magical race, the last of her people, Belle inherited none of their magical ability.
The doe sank down against the willow's base, legs weak from the blood loss. She recalled how beautiful it was to watch her mother feed
the roses with only the touch of her hand, pushing magic deep into the roots, nourishing them with her own power. How easy, you made
it all look, mother, Belle thought. She didn't mean just the roses. Without any magical ability of her own, Belle could use the only thing
she could give. Her blood. Her body. Her flesh. The Licorne race was prized for the rare magic found in their blood, their horns, their
hooves, their hair and even flesh. For the magic-less Drakes, it was only more incentive to hunt and butcher her kind. A braided lock of
Licorne hair could give one protection against evil. Powdered Licorne hoof stirred into tea was said to grant temporary invisibility, but the
horn and blood were most valuable. Belle shut her eyes against these dark thoughts, unwilling to think of what happened when her people
were killed or captured during the war. Unwilling to imagine their butchered, mangled bodies cut up for profit, for the greed and envy of the Drakes.
Slowly, she got to her feet still feeling a touch lightheaded. For not the first time, the princess wished she were not a half-breed, that she
had her mother's magic so that feeding the roses the guarded the castle were not so draining. Belle took her time climbing the tower stairs,
but it was not her room to which she was headed. The Queen's Chambers were royally appointed, from the golden chandeliers to the gilt
inlay of the massive four-poster bed. Solid gold statues rose up on either side of the bed, huge swan wings cradling the bed where the
Queen slept. Or where she should have slept. This room was for show. Her mother had never felt comfortable in grandmother's ostentatious
bedroom. Belle pressed a secret latch beneath the swan's beak. Stone ground against stone, and with a heavy sound, the door to her
mother's secret passageway opened. It had been almost a year since she'd been so lost and full of longing that she needed to visit her
mother's hidden den. The passage was pitch black, but for the small doe descending ever deeper down, down with nothing but a candle
to light her way. A murky, damp scent began to emerge as she went. A few of the stones were wet, tiny rivulets of water quietly streaming
down, dripping imperceptibly. The Licorne's Great Library was known the world over. But the true sacred books were kept in secret
sanctum, buried deep beneath the base of the mountain, just below the river that ran through their lands. This was where her mother
worked and slept and always forgot to eat. Belle's jaw clenched. The sweet memory of uncomplicated joy at being the only one who knew
where her mother went when she seemed to disappear. Of bringing her food down here, and sleeping at her feet or on her lap while her
mother poured over text after text, trying to find a way to drive the enemy out of their lands and win an unwinnable war.
Finally.
The room was large and tiered, lined from wall to wall with books, scrolls, tomes and texts of every kind. But the most compelling feature
by far was the massive dome overhead.The sanctum was beneath the lake itself. Through the water, moonlight shown down on the hidden
library. No one would think to look for a library beneath a lake, after all. The water's ripple cast beautiful patterns on the wall. Belle felt the
tightness in her throat ease just being in the room. She lit a few of the candelabra, and sat on the edge of her mother's large desk. The
princess had gone over all of her mother's notes so many times the parchment was worn. The war against the Drakes was never winnable
for them. Their peace treaties were in tatters after the monetary might of the East bought out their allies. Supply routes had been ambushed,
and resources for the army at the border had been running low. Just a little fawn at the time, Belle didn't know how many burdens her
mother carried on those slim shoulders. And yet, she never forgot to spare her small daughter a smile or to run her hand over her ears with
affection, knowing her little one was already self-conscious about her very half-breed ears, and wanting to reassure her.
Belle's purple gaze moved to the lone book lying conspicuously at the center of the mess of maps, charts, and other wartime documents.
It was a completely ordinary book with a heavy binding and blank cover. Belle knew without looking that there was nothing written inside
of the book. Most curious of all. She'd examined it a dozen times, trying to figure out why her mother was interested in the thing. But there
was nothing. No words. Nothing about the binding or cover itself to indicate where it came from or what it was doing here. An unsolved
mystery that had bothered the princess for years now.
Belle shifted to one hip and laid her palm on the cover of the book. A sudden electric jolt shot up her arm, and the doe yanked her hand
back with a gasp. The watery moonlight threw shadows over the cover of the book, which suddenly seemed alive, pulsing with an energy
she couldn't see, but rather feel. The hair on the back of her neck prickled. Every nerve in her hand tingled as she held it up to the
light. Nothing. Only the light bandage from the rose feeding. She'd lept to her hooves, standing back from the book, but now she approached
it cautiously, ears flicked back with alarm. A ghostly breeze from sent her skirt fluttering around her legs like butterfly wings. But her royal
purple eyes were fixed on the tome which radiated with energy. No, not just energy. She'd felt something like this before. Recently.
The winter roses. They'd given off the same strange feeling.
"Magic," the word kissed her lips, barely a whisper. Her fingers trailed over her chin,
then hovered in the air above the book. She was trembling with shock and something like
anticipation. Her lush tail tucked between her legs, ears lowered as she put her hand on the
book once more.
"I'm not dreaming. I'm not dreaming," she said breathlessly as the book began to...to...move under her hand.
Belle lifted her hand an inch. The book hovered off the desk, pushing its cover firmly into her palm like an insistent pet.
Trembling, she took hold of it with both hands. A surge of power thrummed up her arms like humming bees. Suddenly,
the air had a taste and the smell of rain, flowers and the perfume her mother once wore filled the air. She could taste
sweets from her childhood, and beneath it all the dark taint of blood. It was a beckoning power, luring, tempting her
with all things that were sweet and good. But still, beneath it all the haunting coppery smell of blood inlaid the barrage
to her senses.
"Wh...What are you?" she said, and somehow, she knew it could understand her. It pulsed, once in reply and she was sucked
in to a memory that was not hers. Her mother sat at her desk, long lovely hair in disarray, hunched over a pile of maps. A small
honey-furred fawn was curled up at her mother's hooves, one tiny fist curled around the hair that grew from the queen's ankles.
Hair that would never grow for the little princess who slept peacefully at her mother's feet curled on a pillow. And there, on the
desk, her mother's deep purple eyes rested on the book... "What are you?" her mother asked softly...
Belle jolted back into her body, panting. She couldn't take her hands off the book. Her fingers were locked against the binding, so hard
it began to hurt. The doe gasped with pain as the wound on her palm from the roses reopened, the gauzy bandage darkening with
soaked up blood. A voice from the ether, from nowhere, from within spoke to her...
"Open me. Say yes." She swallowed hard, wincing as her wound seeped.
She was shaking all over, but she couldn't seem to move or let go. The voice
should have been cruel or menacing, but instead it was a polished, sophisticated voice.
"She never knew how to summon me. She, of beauty and grace and eternal immortality.
She who healed so quickly. She who never sustained an injury. She, who never bore wounds like a mortal. Like...you."
"Like...me?" Belle said, eyes wide with fear, but also an insatiable curiosity, a need to know. About her mother. About this book.
The princess had so desperately wanted to be part of her mother's world, to share her burdens, to help her people but was always too small,
too helpless, too magic-less and half-breed. It was true, what the book said. Her mother, a full bred royal Licorne never aged, never would
grow old or weak, and could heal from any wound with divine grace. Belle had never had any of those abilities. It was whispered among the
aristocracy that she was mortal. It was a dirty word among the ever young and beautiful Licorne, who were not without their vanities.
It was unclear if she would stop aging and become immortal when she reached a certain age, as most Licornes did. Belle herself was unsure.
"I taste mortal blood. Open me," the thing hissed, the voice growing with power, like a hound lifting its head and smelling
blood on the air, "Open me and sign your name inside of me, and I will be yours." Did this mean she would never be immortal
like her people? Was her time on this earth limited? And would she forever spend it in this castle full of the ghosts of bygone happiness?
Would she always shy away, hide and resist the voice singing inside of her to do and be?
The Hartlicorne bit her lower lip until she tasted blood. The book purred, gentler now as if awaiting her answer. Shaking, Belle opened the book.
If she were truly mortal, she had to try. And without magic herself, she needed help. Another, softer voice within her whispered,
and you need a companion, you are so very lonely you will go mad here alone... Out of pure desperation and despair, she opened the
book to a blank ivory page. She lifted her hand, and this time the book allowed it. Belle clutched her mother's quill, and when she moved to
unstopper a bottle of ink, the book hissed angrily.
"No ink. Respect the Old Ways, little halfbreed. Make your sacrifice," its voice lashed, a slurring that reminded her of a
viper, or a lion's raspy roar, or a hound's hunting howl. She couldn't identify which. The princess opened her mouth to ask it
what it meant, but stopped and looked at her bandage. The wound was reopened, blood soaking through the thin gossamer fabric.
It wanted her to write her name in her own blood. Fear spiked the fragile doe's scent, and the predatory book growled soft
and low, half purr half mongrel snarl.
Belle laid the open book against the desk and took up her mother's quill. Slowly, she undid the bandage and stared at the bloody mess
of a wound. If she cupped her hand, it began to pool to the center. There was her ink. Quivering from horn to hoof, Belle dipped the quill
and without pausing to think better of this very bad idea, she wrote the first letter B. The tome sang with power, a purple aura
beginning to radiate from its pages. The task was painful. Several times she had to widen her wound with the metal quill tip, fighting
not to cry as she willfully tore her skin. Collecting blood for ink.
One last stroke of the quill, and her name would be written in full. The letters soaked into the page, disappearing as if it were eating
them, purring with every new drop of her blood. One more letter, and it would be done. And what then? Anything is better than this
deathless monotony. Anything at all is better than this endless beautiful, lonely nothing... A tear slipped down her cheek, and she
delivered the final stroke. She would do something, for it was better than sitting her, in her pretty cage and doing nothing at all
until death took her.
A deafening roar filled the room as her pen stroke fell fatally final. The purple mist thickened, deepened to the rich color of fruit blood
and the tome began to rise, and with it - so did the princess. The doe was locked in a deadly dance with the tome as it climbed the air,
hovering in the middle of the room. Power tore through her, filling her every pore, lighting fire to every nerve until she couldn't see or
feel anything except the incredible energy ripping through her core, wrapping around her heart like a dragon's claw. Belle screamed,
but no sound escaped her. The tome began to change. A dark, sharply angled face emerged from the dark black and blood red
binding which had grown lethal thorns on its sides. The red, red eyes of the face blinked at her and showed her wickedly long fangs.
The pages were bladed, like thin daggers, and it had taken on a monstrous visage. It opened its mouth, huge and imposing, easily
the size of the doe herself. She wanted to close her eyes, to hide, to run like the prey creature she was but she wouldn't let herself
look away. If this was her end, she wouldn't meet it eyes shut. She had lived too much of her life like that.
The book-like creature stopped, and without warning let out a long, horrifying shriek. It screamed like a wounded animal and began
to take on another shape. It grew smaller, only a little larger than a normal book. A long, tail-like bookmark plumed from its pages.
Its binding became shining gold, softer. Fleur di lis embellishments appeared in the gilded metalwork, and roses bloomed on the
binding and clasps. From devil red to royal purple and soft roseate. The face remained, but softened. Expressions formed on that
goldwork face, once of confusion and then a sort of resignation. The pain stopped. The power thrummed between them, and Belle
knew that somehow they had formed a magical bond. It was softer now, less loud and agonizing, but no less potent. She was weak,
blood flowing freely down her wrist. She would have fallen, but this tome-like creature kept her aloft, hovering midair with it.
"So, this is the form my master has given me?" it said quietly.
The voice was definitely male, definitely aristocratic, and definitely annoyed.
It - no - he studied her quietly for a long moment, with narrowed eyes.
"I have never been in such a..." he seemed to search for the correct word,
"...feminine form before. I am alarmed," he finished, but didn't sound
alarmed at all, only mildly disgusted. His eyes were rubies, red and glowing with
intelligence. They flicked to her openly bleeding hand. "Can you not heal yourself?"
Belle couldn't form words yet, and was forced to shake her head instead. He lifted a brow at this and sneered.
"Pathetic. But you are my mistress, so allow me to introduce myself, and make this healing my gift to you."
The rose-tipped bookmark tail came up and curled around her hand gently. Belle's eyes went wide as she felt her own
flesh sew itself back together, the pain dissipating as it healed her.
The demonic leonine face contorted, "I have never had the ability to heal before. It is distasteful. Yet...I am flush with power
from our Bond, and can do this small thing for you, Master." The silk bookmark unraveled around her palm, and it was healed.
Painless, she stretched her hand, examining it. Where her wound had healed, a soft, pink rose-shaped scar took its place.
"That is the mark of our Bond. Your body is marked, as is mine."
It eased the princess from midair, which was well-timed for the shock was wearing off and the doe was terrified of heights.
It placed her in a chair, and hovered before her, the bookmark swishing like a cat's tail thoughtfully examining her from horn to hoof.
"What...w-what are you?" Belle said, after regarding him, too, for several minutes quietly shaking.
Though made of gold, his eyebrow lifted imperiously at her question.
"Allow me to introduce myself, princess," he said, and flew high into the air above her head.
Belle's rose scar pulsed in her palm, and without knowing how she knew - she knew that he
was saturated with new power and she felt his unbridled joy.
"I am the Grimmoire of the Forbidden Fable, he of the Hypnotic Hexameter, the Halcyon Hymn.
Philistine and philologist in the first degree, Meister of Melancholia and Metre, Vellum Volume of Voracity,
Demon of the Doggerel Verse." His pages had grown and flared like a pair of great wings fanning
above his own binding, ruby eyes lit with fire and power, voice commanding and shot with charisma.
"But you, my little halfbreed Mistress, may call me simply - Grim."
Art by: holivi :: Writing by: Belletrist
COMMENTS HELP ENCOURAGE ME TO WRITE I READ EVERY SINGLE ONE ♡
IMITATION IS -NOT- A FORM OF FLATTERY. PLEASE DO NOT IMITATE ME.
✧ YOU MAY NOT USE BELLE OR ANY ART FOR RP. DO NOT REUPLOAD. ✧
Category All / All
Species Unspecified / Any
Gender Any
Size 768 x 1280px
Yep, this is the best piece you've ever written. It flowed beautifully. Effortlessly. It was easy to read and left me practically desperate for the next page! It's abundantly clear just how much you put into this. <3 "No ink. Respect the Old Ways, little halfbreed. Make your sacrifice" <-- The best line. Such classy sass!
Even if my english is not the best, i still had fun reading all of this. The slow introduction, then all going so smoothly (if that is the right word ^^'') in the writing, leading all to the discovery of this whole new character, which you had showed us some times ago with the reference for grim ^^
Took a while, but it is a very nice piece and very enjoyable ^^
Took a while, but it is a very nice piece and very enjoyable ^^
Damn he got more titles than Daenerys!
This is absolutely compelling, it begs so many more questions and answers a million all at the same time. You're absolutely fantastic at what you do, it's truly wonderful and heartwarming to be able to watch as Belle's fearful bud unravels into a beautiful and bold rose.
I'm dying to see more! Well done, fabulous!!
The art is so wonderfully realistic, Belle's form, fear, Grim's snarl of misty power and the beautiful environment with the lake ceiling, just...I'm in love!!
This is absolutely compelling, it begs so many more questions and answers a million all at the same time. You're absolutely fantastic at what you do, it's truly wonderful and heartwarming to be able to watch as Belle's fearful bud unravels into a beautiful and bold rose.
I'm dying to see more! Well done, fabulous!!
The art is so wonderfully realistic, Belle's form, fear, Grim's snarl of misty power and the beautiful environment with the lake ceiling, just...I'm in love!!
Holy smokes!
Such an incredible story to accompany this incredible and gorgeous piece of your beautiful character.
Such an incredible story to accompany this incredible and gorgeous piece of your beautiful character.
WOW I just so was not expecting all that this turned out to be!
I know how important it was for you to add Grim to Belle's story,
but you just evoked so much feeling and passion and heartbreak
and longing with this, not to mention the fact that I felt like I could
SEE Belle walking through the whole castle and then finding this
beautiful hidden refuge. You did an extraordinary job of writing a
scene that unfolded so smoothly it was over way too soon T_T
And I don't believe it! I don't believe that Belle is without magic! *sobs*
Also ..... I love Grim. And all of his names he has given himself XD
I cannot wait to see more of them together! Pleeeeeease more!
I know how important it was for you to add Grim to Belle's story,
but you just evoked so much feeling and passion and heartbreak
and longing with this, not to mention the fact that I felt like I could
SEE Belle walking through the whole castle and then finding this
beautiful hidden refuge. You did an extraordinary job of writing a
scene that unfolded so smoothly it was over way too soon T_T
And I don't believe it! I don't believe that Belle is without magic! *sobs*
Also ..... I love Grim. And all of his names he has given himself XD
I cannot wait to see more of them together! Pleeeeeease more!
So amazing and very imaginative story miss.
The art is also fantastic.
The art is also fantastic.
Truly magical, both visually and in word form as always. The art embodies your enchanting words and especially the emotion you evoke through your beautiful writing so well!
I was enjoying it so much I wasn't expecting it to end!
I truly adore fantasy with dark touches to it and especially the kind with demons and the physical embodiment's of them. The way you presented 'Grim' was very convincing and I really loved all of his self-proclaimed titles! I certainly look forward to seeing the relationship these two will have as I know he answers to his Master but I feel like he will have a darker influence in some events... I could be entirely wrong though haha. ^^
I was enjoying it so much I wasn't expecting it to end!
I truly adore fantasy with dark touches to it and especially the kind with demons and the physical embodiment's of them. The way you presented 'Grim' was very convincing and I really loved all of his self-proclaimed titles! I certainly look forward to seeing the relationship these two will have as I know he answers to his Master but I feel like he will have a darker influence in some events... I could be entirely wrong though haha. ^^
That's stunning! But tbh you should really put the artist's name BEFORE the long text and something clickable.
you write so beautifully,it's a pleasure to read this~
the art is great <3
the art is great <3
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