Beau and the Enchanted Rose: A Tale of True Love

In a village surrounded by meadows and whispering winds lived Beau, the youngest of the Bachelor family, whose gentle spirit and love for flowers made him an outcast among his rough, boastful brothers. His mother, who once filled their cottage with laughter and warmth, had died shortly after Beau’s birth, leaving behind a grief that turned bitter in the hearts of his elder brothers, Donald and Boris. Their father, unable to bear the loss, followed her to the grave, leaving the family’s dwindling fortune in the hands of the eldest brothers.

Instead of preserving their family’s legacy, Donald and Boris squandered the inheritance on gambling, drink, and other pleasures, until poverty hung over them like a storm cloud. Only Beau found comfort among the red roses in the garden, for each bloom reminded him of his mother’s comforting scent and soft voice.

One crisp morning, their grandmother prepared to ride her faithful white horse to the city’s bustling market.

“Is there anything you boys desire?” she asked with a smile that softened her lined face.

“Bring crates of beer!” Donald declared, stretching lazily.

“Swords! As many as you can carry!” Boris shouted.

“I would like a single red rose, Grandma,” Beau whispered.

Donald and Boris exchanged mocking laughter. “A rose? You’ll never be a real man,” Boris sneered, pushing Beau into a puddle.

Beau wiped the mud from his cheek, his resolve unshaken. “I don’t wish to fight. I wish to live in peace.”

Grandmother’s eyes sparkled with understanding. “If it’s a rose you want, my dear, then a rose you shall have.”

A week passed, and the cottage grew emptier without Grandmother’s warm presence. Beau missed her gentle scolding and soft humming as she tended the garden. But then, one evening, the white horse returned alone, reins trailing in the mud, eyes wide with worry.

Donald shouted, “Where’s my beer?”

Boris demanded, “Where are my swords?”

Beau’s breath caught. “Where is Grandma?”

Without hesitation, Beau climbed onto the horse, urging it to take him to her. They galloped through moonlit fields, the wind cold against Beau’s cheeks, until they reached an enchanted castle, ivy creeping over ancient stone, its windows glowing with eerie light.

Inside, objects moved of their own accord, whispering and creaking, as Beau’s voice echoed through the empty halls. “Grandma! Where are you?”

In the tallest tower, Beau found her, shivering beneath a thin blanket, guarded by a hag with twisted features and eyes like molten gold.

“You dare enter my castle?” the hag croaked.

“Please,” Beau said, his voice steady despite his fear, “let my grandmother go.”

“She stole a rose from my garden, and for that, she must pay.”

Beau’s heart sank, but he stepped forward. “It was my fault. I asked for the rose. Take me instead.”

The hag’s sharp eyes softened, and with a wave of her gnarled hand, she released Grandmother, who wept as Beau was led away. Instead of a prison, Beau found himself in a lavish room, filled with books, warm blankets, and a window overlooking the rose gardens.

“You are the master here now,” the hag rasped. “All that I have is yours.”

“I do not wish to rule over you,” Beau replied gently. “I only wish for kindness.”

As winter melted into spring, Beau discovered the hag’s hidden gentleness. They drank tea together in the mornings, discussing books and the songs of birds. Beau tended to the rose gardens, while the hag watched from the shadows, her eyes following him with quiet admiration.

But Beau’s heart ached for home, and when the hag offered him a magic mirror, he used it to see Grandmother coughing in her bed.

“Please,” Beau begged, “let me go to her.”

The hag’s eyes shimmered with unspoken sorrow. “Return to me,” she whispered.

Beau promised, pressing the mirror to his heart, before racing home on the white horse. But he returned only to find Grandmother’s bed empty, her spirit gone. As Beau wept, Donald and Boris seized the enchanted gifts the hag had given Beau, hoping to sell them for gold.

Yet as soon as they touched the gifts, the wine turned to sour air, the silver plates crumbled, and the enchanted goblets shattered. In their greed, the brothers were transformed into rats, scuttling across the cottage floor.

Realizing their cruelty, Donald and Boris, in their new forms, gnawed at Beau’s bindings, freeing him. Remembering the hag’s request, Beau mounted the white horse and rode back to the castle as dawn broke, fear gripping his heart.

Inside the garden, Beau found the hag collapsed among the roses, her breath ragged.

“No!” Beau cried, falling to his knees. “You cannot leave me! I love you.”

As his tears fell onto her twisted hands, light burst from her skin, and the darkness of her features melted away. Before him stood a young woman, her beauty radiant, her hair like flowing gold.

“Is it truly you?” Beau whispered.

“Yes,” she replied, taking his hand. “I was cursed by a sorcerer for my cruelty, and only true love could free me.”

As the castle came alive with light, the servants and even Beau’s rat-brothers transformed back into their true forms. The white horse neighed joyfully as Grandmother, alive and well, stepped from a carriage, her laughter like warm rain.

Beau and the princess, once the hag, were married in the rose gardens, where the scent of flowers filled the air, reminding Beau of his mother’s love. Together, they ruled with kindness, ensuring that no one in the kingdom would suffer alone, and proving that true beauty was found in the gentleness of the heart.

And so, in a world where love’s magic restored light to even the darkest places, they lived, surrounded by blooming roses, happily ever after.

🌷 Moral of the Story:

True love and kindness can break even the deepest curses, teaching us that beauty is found in compassion, not appearances.