Twilight/Vampire Diaries/Beauty and the Beast

Bella/Klaus | Belle/Beast

Rating: T

Summary: Klaus doesn’t believe that Bella loves him due to the fact that he is a monster and a beast. So Bella decides to tell him a story. A story passed down through her father’s bloodline for hundreds of years; the family legend.

A/N: ‘La Légende de la Famille’ is French for ‘The Family Legend’. ‘Mœr Fróðleikr’ is Old Norse for ‘Maiden Magic’ (Or ‘Magic Maiden’).

Bella sighed, her hand rubbing the back of her neck in a stressed gesture as she reclined on her front across the king-sized bed, her beloved wolf pacing angrily back and forth in front of her.

She didn’t know just what to do, which was a first as ever since she had met the lonely hybrid four years ago, she had always known just what to say or do, always known who she needed to be for him, just as he always knew who he needed to be for her.

But right now… she was utterly lost.

You see, to her she was just a broken nineteen-year-old who was futilely trying to fight off her ex-boyfriend’s sugary sweet, drug-like influence when they had first met.

She had been aimlessly walking the almost deserted yet dangerous back alleyways of Port Angeles, trying to find… something, anything. And something she found, or rather, someone found her.

Now, Klaus had also been stalking the city streets, out hunting for some tasty morsels he could viciously lose his anger into, when he had heard the skirmish and, being the curious wolf that he was; he went to see what was going on.

He had saved Bella that night, though she knew that was not his first intent. She had whimpered and cowered, unable to move, to run, to talk or scream, or do pretty much anything but fold into herself as the numbness and blood fell over her.

She could vaguely remember hearing screaming and snarls, taunts and cries and the feeling of something dripping down her coat and sinking into her skin but, she only truly started to notice things when she was harshly pulled up, her back somehow now hitting a brick wall as tight, claw-like hand gripped her coat fiercely and a fearsome growl was echoed through her ears.

She had looked up, startled, and into golden eyes.

Now, she was familiar with the color gold in irises but this. This was more. It was like… molten lava and liquid gold all thrown into a hurricane, impossibly swirling and raging like an erupting volcano.

It was beautiful.

He, he would tell her later, was also admiring her by for another reason for, you see, he is a hybrid.

No, not a hybrid, thee hybrid and, as he was off two extremely violent and blood-lusting creatures, Hecate (though he prefers to call her Mœr Fróðleikr) decided that, though he is a necessary evil in this world, it was not fair nor right to let him live his immortal life alone.

And so, she begged her fellow goddess, Freyja to create the perfect being who would match him in all ways and would stay by his side as he would her. One who would understand his hardships as she would get her own, one who would find him when they needed each other most.

This is how Isabella Marie Swan came to be. While they could not truly control anything on Earth, they could gift the child who would best understand and heal the famed and feared beast most with great abilities that would help her navigate the cruel, and rather dramatic, world that is the hybrid’s life.

She is his mate and the only one that could truly match and compliment him in everything, soul mates of the most sought-after kind.

He recognized who she was to him through her mouthwatering scent and quickly stole her from her home, not letting her leave his side since, not that she ever would.

Ever since then she had started to understand things she had easily dismissed and not believed before. She may have believed in the supernatural, but never that she was supernatural, despite all of the… odd things that has happened to her growing up.

She had started to grow and, well, not change but come more into herself once she was away from those whom believed they knew who she was and how she should act and, as she knew it was easier and did not wish to cause upset to those who had given her so much, she has become who they saw.

But away and with the feared hybrid, the beast she had come to love and care for she had flourished and bloomed and was forever grateful to her love.

And she supposed that was the problem; most when they heard of and saw her love to the nightmare of monsters thought that it was just Stockholm Syndrome and, over time, it seems that her hybrid had come to believe this too.

He was still ranting and raving about how she was obviously not in love with him, just grateful and how no one could possibly love him even if he did them, I mean- just look at his family! He had to box them up just so they would stay!

Honestly, Bella thought, after four years you would think that he wouldn’t doubt himself so but, despite what he wanted the world to believe, he did have a heart. One that had been dented and twisted and broken so many times that he did not believe he was worth it anymore.

She knew she could relate to that, if only slightly.

But right now she was getting fed up so, with a huff, she got up and calmly walked over to him, standing within his path, forcing him to stop as she held his hands within her own.

“Darling, you’re wearing a hole into the carpet.” She told him with a slight warning tone to her strong voice, she did so hate it when he would destroy their home’s, however small the damage was.

“Excuse me, love.” He replied. He would never say sorry, not even to her, but this was as good as.

She nodded and gently led him to the end of the bed, delicately sitting down and gesturing with her headfirst him to do the same even as she kept his hands securely in hers.

“Now, why are you questioning my love for you. You know that I love you more than anything else and that my love for you only grows with every passing day, so why would you question no matter what others say.”

Even as she was talking she could see him shaking his head, so childlike, in denial.

“No, no it’s just Stockho-”

”Stop.” She interrupted, placing her hand over his mouth in an effort to shush him, “You know I do not believe in things such as Stockholm Syndrome. I believe that human minds try to rationalize what they do not understand, and falling in love with your their is something ‘no one could possibly do’.” Her voice showed just how ridiculous she thought that was. “‘Stockholm Syndrome’ is just words that humans use for people who fall for their capture because they do not get it. Now, i’m not saying some of those people were not manipulated into feeling what they do or did, but it is still love, still feelings.”

“So you’re saying that I manipulated your feelings out of you?!”

“What, no! Of course not, I, erh.” Her hands left his as they rubbed her face in a stressed gesture, coming to a stop in front of her mouth, palms together as though in prayer.

And then it came to her, the old story that was passed down from parent to child for generations, a tale she had heard often enough growing up that she could recite it from memory even though it had been over a decade since she had last heard the words.

Klaus, having seen the change in her body language, looked at her curiously as she slowly put her hands down into her lap and looked at him with such determination that he as slightly scared for a moment.

What she said, however, did surprise him, “I’m gonna tell you a story, and you’re gonna listen, ok.”

He only minutely nodded as she began,

“Once upon a time” Klaus smirked and gave a gruff laugh at that… till she glared at him, that is. At which point he fell silent, “in a kingdom that is now a part of France, there was a poor farmer whom’s wife was a beautiful sorceress. Together they birthed three beautiful daughters, the Sorceress dying giving birth to their youngest, Rozabelle.

“These daughters were said to be the prettiest in all of France. And so, as they truly were all so beautiful, they all married into nobility. One married a Duke, the other a Lord and the third, Rozabelle, married a Count.

“However, while the first two daughters were happy and content in their marriages, Rozabelle was not. Her husband was a cruel and wicked man who sought for dominance over all and was not happy with his station in life. And though to everyone else, he was the perfect picture of nobility and love, he was truly a cold hearted bastard who seemed to get a kick out of hurting his wife and servants.

“May a year passed and Rozabelle’s heart hardened and turned cold as to protect itself from her lonely existence. Then, one day, a group of traveling gypsies passed through the town close to her manor and while we do not truly know what happened with, and too, them, we do know that they taught Rozabelle how to harness the true raw magic within her.

“One night, when the Count came for his wife’s company and Rozabelle used her magic to curse him with an illness that would eventually kill him.

“A new Count, the last’s younger brother, came to take over the manor and, while kinder than his elder, he and the manor were a reminder of all that had happened and Rozabelle knew that people suspected her hand in her husband’s demise, judging from the way some looked at her, anyways.

“So she soon left, traveling back to live with her old and lonely father who, while thrilled to have her home, saw the change and darkness in his child and wished to cure her sadness.

“So, while on his way back from selling some of his harvest in the next town over, he went inside of the garden of the old castle, the one who’s ruins he passed by often but never ventured in for fear of the beast rumoured to live within, and he picked a beautiful red rose from the thorny bush, hoping to gift it to his daughter to bring a smile to her sad face.

“But then, just as he was about to leave, he was stopped by a monstrous raw that was heard for miles around and the young farmer turned around to see a beast.

“The beast looked human enough in his height and size, but he was covered in golden brown fur and his eyes were a startling yellow, his teeth long and pointed and sharp. The farmer was scared frozen as the beast came over to him, smelling him. He was quite shocked and worried when the beast let him leave with his life, so long as he sent the witch that lived with him to the beast’s castle, he would live.

“You see, the beast had smelt magic on the old man and, while he knew it was not from the man, he knew that it was from someone close to him, someone he lived with.

“So the old man grabbed his cart and fled, not noticing the thorny rose still clutched tightly in his hand as he ran as fast as his legs would carry him. When he got him, Rozabelle immediately noticed her father’s worry and shame and the bleeding, bloodied hand that clutched the broken rose.

“She begged her father to tell her what happened and when he did she did not know what to think, of course she would go, but she would be careful. No man would rule her again.

“When she arrived, the beast greeted her like a gentleman would and, though she was startled by his appearance, she knew what to expect and said nothing of it.

“He told her that he required her skills, that he was a werewolf and another witch had cursed him to live in a half state, stuck between his human and wolf forms, only having freedom from it on a full moon night, when he would change into a full wolf. If she stayed and freed him, he would reward her and her father greatly.

“She felt no pity for the beast, nor did she want his money. But she could see he had a good, kind heart and knew what it was like to be alone and trapped and wished it on no one and so, she helped him.

“It took a long while, months really, for Rozabelle to find the witch who had cursed him’s grimoire and even longer to create the antidote, and while she stayed at the castle, Rozabelle and the beast, who she now knew was named Aldair, talked about many things.

“Rozabelle could feel her heart start to soften and thaw and he became the one being she knew she could trust and care for and, in return, Aldair found someone who saw past his beastish looks and saw him for the kind soul he was.

“But their fairytale would soon come to a close as, just a week before the potion that would give Aldair his looks back, the one that uses extremely rare herbs, was ready; disaster struck.

“You see, Rozabelle had an enchanted looking glass, a mirror, given to her by her old gypsy friends and, so long as she had a piece of the person you wished to see, if you dropped that piece onto the glass- you could see them. Rozabelle used this to keep an eye on her father but this one day, when she checked; she saw her father being taken into a dungeon on suspicion of harboring magical items.

“Rozabelle knew she could not leave her father behind, though she knew she could not leave the potion. Aldair heard her cries and, once he found out the matter, he did something that would change everything.

“He went into the room where the potion was brewing and, with no thought nor hesitation, tipped it, spilling the magical cure all over the floor. Rozabelle was shocked and angry but he bid her go, save her father as there was no reason to stay.

“Knowing it was the logical thing to do, Rozabelle quickly left, promising to return and make a new way to return him to a full-human form.

“But it was not to be for, by the time Rozabelle got to the town where her father was imprisoned, he had already been sentenced to the flames and died as such. Rozabelle cried, her magic swirling around her in anger, destroying everything, and everyone, in it’s path as she grieved, feeling guilty and knowing that her father’s blood, or ashes, were on her hands.

“In her anger and grief, however, Rozabelle was easily struck down and sentenced to the very flames her father had just perished in, the town fools believing that by killing her they would stop her ‘evil spell’.

“She was tied and bound and pushed, guards swords piercing her back, making blood pour down but she felt non as the numbness set in.

“Later, Aldair would tell her how he worried as soon as she left, following her through the mirror she left behind, saving her just before she hit the flames. He would tell her how the townsfolk ran screaming as they caught sight of the terrible ‘beast’ and how he carried her frozen body down and away from the town.

“They would leave their kingdom, searching for years before crossing the sea the New World and set up home in a cottage deep in the woods just north of a beautiful riverbank. Aldair never got his cure, but neither ever minded, in a matter of fact, Rozabelle loved his beastly exterior as he loved her once-hardened heart. And they would have four beautiful children, and Rozabelle would tell them their parents story, and her children would tell their children, and their children would tell their children and, while the true story was lost and manipulated, like a game of Chinese Whispers, to time; their would be one bloodline, the bloodline of Rozabelle and Aldair’s eldest, that would never. Ever. Forget.

“The end.”

There was silence for a few minutes as Klaus tried to digest the ‘bedtime fairy tale’ his love had just told him, while Bella quietly watched him, hoping he would get the message she was trying to convey.

“So… are you telling me, that you are descended from Beauty and the Beast?” Klaus asked in disbelief.

“Well, when you put it like that, it does should rather fanciful, but, why do you think I am Isabella? My father always loved this tale, and so did I growing up. It’s why I prefer Bella to Isabella, it makes me feel closer to my ancestors.”

“How do you know that the story you have heard is not, as you say, Chinese Whispers?” Klaus asked, curious, and Bella sighed, leaning back against the headboard (They had moved to the top of the bed while Bella was telling her family legend).

“Because I believe in it, Nik, I believe.”

“But wha-”

Bella put her hand over his mouth, glaring at the blonde, “Just shut up! Uh! Look, the point I was trying to make was that Rozabella and Aldair were total opposites. Neither felt they deserved love and both were beasts, though in different ways. And just as they were both beasts, they were both beauties.”

“Still don’t get your point.” Klaus said, bluntly.

“UH!” Bella groaned, chucking a pillow at him which he cheekily ducked, “The point that I was trying to make you horse’s ass” “HEY!” Bella smiled, slightly, “is that I love you for you. You may see yourself as a monster, as a beast and others may see you as that too.” She cupped his face, her smile widening as she took his face in her hands, “But I see who you really are and, while I will admit that you are a beast.” At this, Klaus started to look away, feeling rejected. “You are MY beast Nik, and I love you more than anyone or anything else. You bring out the best in me and taught me that I am worth it. You taught me to be strong, and made me into the confident, and sexy, woman I am today, not the broken and trodden-on, doormatted girl you first met. My heart, body and soul belong to you, as I know yours does me in return. YOU are the one I will choose, always, damn what others say!”

At the end of her rant, Bella was breathing heavily and her cheeks were slightly flushed and Klaus couldn’t help but marvel and wonder at how he gained such a beautiful love.

As he leaned over and kissed her passionately, he knew he would still always have doubts about her love for him, he knew that as long as she was there, he could keep them down at the bottom of his mind, kept away under lock and key.

And as they lost themselves in the passion of their love, they did not see the man and the woman standing off to the corner. They were old, in their late 70’s/early 80’s, the woman’s hair gray and wispy, her face old and wrinkled and her soft brown eyes looking at the couple in a why that would remind one of a grandmother, smiling at her grandchildren’s love. And the man had graying hair all around his face and body, more so than would be considered normal, his teeth were sharp and slightly pointed, his ears tipped but what stood out most was his bright golden-yellow eyes. Their dress was of peasants from hundreds of years before the present day, and the faint white tinge to their colorings made them look quite out of place in the modern manor.

Rozabelle and Aldair may have been monsters and beasts to the world, but to their family… they were legends.