Our Fault - A Oneshot of the Prologue
[Inspired by a post by @debete.]
Mrs. Potts and Chip are in the kitchen when they hear the screams. Such a sound seems so out of place in the castle that both of them stand up to see what is going on. Chip runs off towards the ballroom, disobeying her orders to stay out of sight. Mrs. Potts had brought him along this evening simply because she needed the extra hand; preparing for a ball is always stressful, especially for the head housekeeper.
She calls after him, but when he does not return, she sighs and tries to follow. It is only when they reach the ballroom that she realizes the guests are fleeing, terrified of something inside. This does not make Chip falter; he weaves through the white gowns and scared faces, not even stopping to let them pass. Mrs. Potts does not have the agility that her young son does, however, and she has to shoulder her way past the panicking young ladies, calling his name again and again until he stops near the threshold and she finally grasps his shoulders. But then she sees what has made Chip stop, and her heart skips a beat as she utters a cry of exclamation.
She notices Adam first. He's sprawled on the ground, writhing, crying out in pain, struggling to get to his feet but keeps slipping back to the ground. But the more she watches, she realizes that he's changing. His clothes are ripping, horns are sprouting from beneath his wig, claws tearing through his sleeves and brown fur covering his face. His voice deepens with every cry until it's more of a roar than a shout. It's a repulsing sight. But before Mrs. Potts can tear her eyes away from it, she hears him call out for his mother.
It hits her like a dagger to her heart. She can tell it affects the other servants present just as much; Plumette puts her hand over her heart, Cogsworth dips his head in shame, and Lumiére visibly recoils; the candelabra he's holding slips from his hand and clangs on the floor.
The sound alerts the second presence in the room, the figure standing over Adam as he wails in agony. She is tall and fair, a being of pure golden light. Her feet are not even touching the floor, and she towers over the ballroom with an air of magnificent beauty. She has a kind face, but her eyes show no mercy as she looks up at the servants, who all cower under her gaze. She raises a shining hand and points at them, and without even speaking the message is clear: You did this.
The horrible part is, she's right. Without even asking, Mrs. Potts knows immediately what this is about. It is their fault. They made Adam the monster he has become, and now he has an appearance to match.
The air grows cold. The wind starts to pick up, and Mrs. Potts tightens her grip on Chip's shoulders. Something is about to happen, but Mrs. Potts can't find it in herself to try to escape; the scene before her is so surreal and mystifying.
Suddenly, there is a small whimper from the other side of the room. Mrs. Potts turns her eyes to where the Italian maestro and his wife stand, staring in horror at what is unfolding before them.
The maestro has his arms wrapped around his wife and their dog in an attempt to shield them from what's happening, and the madame is clutching her husband's arms, her painted face horrified and afraid. The dog is the source of the noise they had all heard, and for a moment, the witch diverts her attention to them. Her cold eyes take them in, their outfits, their expressions, their clasped hands. All they receive in return is a look of indifference. Then she raises her hand, and in it she holds a pristine red rose. Mrs. Potts opens her mouth to cry out a warning to the musicians, to run, to get away, they have nothing to do with this…
But then everything erupts in gold and white around her. Chip is wrenched out of her grasp by some unseen force, and she reaches out to find him again, but she can't feel her hands. She can't hear the cries of the other servants and she calls out to Chip again and again, but he doesn't answer.
There's one last thing Mrs. Potts realizes before the world fades to black: she can't feel anything at all. Not the wind, nor the floor beneath her feet, nor the beating of her own heart. For this one moment, she is completely and utterly alone.
