Ripped paintings of a once beautiful yet unrecognizable young man littered the walls of the West Wing you were absolutely not permitted to be in, but curiosity got the best of you, and there wasn't much else to do in this castle. Saving your father was the most heroic thing you'd ever done, and perhaps the most stupid.

Living in this castle—which was surely haunted—had been the most eventful few days of your life in the little village you'd lived in since you were a baby. You had yet to explore the library, if you were still alive after this little adventure, that is.

As you tread through the long hallways, more paintings, all torn to shreds, fill your vision. They were the beast's, you realized, the one who had gotten you into this mess. There was a name on the bottom of one, not yet destroyed.

'Remus Lupin'.

Once a perfect prince, now a monster to most. Fangs, claws, brutish strength, the lot. But if you looked at him, really looked at him, he was more man than beast.

Well groomed, nice clothes, shoes, all of the things he didn't require living alone, save for the household appliances that were once people.

The twisting hallways finally ended, and a mirror on the table, next to a rose covered in a diamond glass case were all that met you. No riches, no people, no surprises. Just a rose and a mirror.

You stepped closer to observe the rose, which emitted a pinkish light, the petals covered in a glowy dust. A hand reaches out to touch the glass when you're pulled back by strong, scarred hands.

"What the hell do you think you're doing? Do you have any idea what you could've done? Get out! I forbade you from coming to the West Wing!" The beast shouted, canines bared at you. He was big.

Bigger than you, but not monstrous. He had seemed so much scarier in the darkness.

"I said get out!" He continues, checking the rose, stroking glass for a moment, his breath coming out in unsteady puffs.